Genna Lannister - Tumblr Posts

　　 　　 We Are The Lannisters.

　　 Selfish and arrogant, proud and greedy, haughty and cruel to their enemies.

　　 　　 We Are The Lannisters.

　　 Wise and charming, noble and majestic, great, generous friends and allies.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

Prologue:

Tywin Lannister hated his dwarf son. Despised him. Every time his calculating green eyes landed on his twisted half-man son, it reminded him of what he lost. His precious wife, gone, to give life to the creature before him. He took her life, and here he is, breathing, instead of cold and lifeless. The gods had cursed him from the moment Joanna found out she was with child again. The moment seed had given her a child. After the birth of the twins, Master Creylen advised Tywin and Joanna not to have another child. Which was fine, because he got what he wanted. An heir, and a daughter to marry off to Aerys’s son, Rheagar. A Lannister, his daughter, would sit on the throne as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He had everything he wanted, his perfect children, his loving wife, his long-time friend, and King, and the Relm was prospering. Until it wasn’t.

He lost everything in a day and was left with a creature he wasn’t sure that came from his loins. A hideous son, whom no one wanted to marry, who was Lord Tywin’s bane. His second son, Tyrion Lannister.

The old lion narrowed his gaze at his son, who was speaking in hushed tones with his younger brother, Gerion Lannister, ignoring his sister’s continuous babble. Tywin watched as Tyrion laughed and made jests with Gerion, smiling as if he’d done nothing wrong. His half-man son waddled along, enjoying his time with his uncle as they walked through Joanna’s garden. Tywin’s fists clenched together, his forehead crinkled as his brows furrowed together as he watched with displeasure. Sixteen years it’s been. Sixteen years since Tywin Lannister ever cracked a smile.

“Tywin? Brother?” A hand rested on his leather-clad shoulder, drawing his attention away from his son and brother. Genna stood next to him, her golden hair piled in an intricate design with pearls dangling in locks. Her face was all made up with various powders and a lip stain. Her dress was Lannister red, and around her neck sat a golden lion head nestled between her breasts. Genna reminded Tywin of their mother, Jeyne. She shared their mother’s shade of green eyes and mother’s shapely figure. She was beautiful and cunning. She was a Lannister. Yet she was married to a pathetic Frey.

“Tywin, did you hear me?” she asked, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. Tywin simply stared at her, wondering what he’d missed. “Of course you didn’t,” she chuckled before sighing. “I said, dear brother, I think we should hold a ball.” A smile spread across her face. While the Old Lion simply raised a brow at her statement. “A ball,” he repeated. Genna nodded her head. “Why would we need to throw a ball?” His voice rumbled in his chest, and if Genna wasn’t his sister, he would’ve growled.

“For Tyrion, of course. He’s sixteen. It’s time to find him a suitable wife and future Lady of Casterly Rock.” Tywin narrowed his eyes, irritatedly. “Do you not think I’ve tried to find him a wife? Lord Tully denied my proposal, as did Lord Royce and Lord Hightower, and I just received Ser Colin Florent’s raven.” Tywin picked up the letter lying on his desk. “‘I regret to inform you my Lord Lannister, my daughter Delena has been promised to marry Ser Hosman Norcross,’ Even the oaf Florent won’t marry his whore of a daughter to Tyrion.” He threw the letter onto the desk and sat down, leaning forward and lacing his hands together as he raises a brow at Genna. “So, you still believe someone will marry him?” Genna sighed and shook her head at her older brother. “Tyrion is capable of finding a wife. We simply need to introduce him to eligible ladies.”

“So we’ll prance him around as if he was my daughter? Shall I have a tailor make him a gown as well?” Sarcasm dripped in his voice, and Genna glared at her brother. “Tyrion is your son —”

“No, he is not!!” Tywin slammed his fist down against the desk. He glared at Genna, fury swimming in his green eyes, his lip curling in a snarl. Genna glared back at him, challenging his stare. This was the same argument they’ve had over the last thirteen years, and every time Tywin’s fury matched a starving lion. His fangs were out, snarling, and his claws were ready to tear through her body. The first time they argued about Tyrion, Tywin stopped talking to Genna for an entire year. It was a miserable year for Genna. Losing her brother temporary was the worst feeling in the world.

“Tywin.” she reached her hand over the desk to place it on his fist, but he jerked away. “Don’t you wish to make an alliance to benefit House Lannister?” He stood up and stomped off to Joanna’s portrait. He stood in front of the painted version of his wife, staring at her beautiful green eyes and rich golden hair that shone in the sun. “Jamie is sworn to the damned Kingsguard. Cersei is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Who else can make a proper marriage alliance for House Lannister?” Tywin shook his head and clenched his fists at his side. “Tyrion is the only answer. He is the only one who can help our House.”

Genna’s voice became soft somewhere in the middle of her persuasion, and she knew she had her big brothers when Tywin let out a sound of frustration before turning and running a hand down his face.

“So be it.” The smile that left Genna could only resemble a lioness who was ready to kill her next meal.

Lannisters, Sex, and Power

“Everything is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.” ~ Oscar Wilde

Perhaps I’ve shown my hand a little too soon — perhaps I should have left you hanging. But sex is a key means by which Lannisters in A Song of Ice and Fire (ASOIAF) cement and legitimise power.

Keep reading

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

Chapter Three:

The time for (Y/n) to leave Highgarden and travel to Casterly Rock had arrived. She was all packed and ready to leave her homeland and family, wearing a smile full of sorrow. Though she didn’t want to leave, she wanted to stay at her home with her family. All she wanted was to stay and sit with her grandmother and drink tea and gossip. She wanted to stay and sew with her cousins and little sister. She wanted to stay and help the children of the many orphanages she and her family were involved in. She didn’t want to leave the summery breezes and sun in the Reach and trade it for the dry heat of the Westerlands.

“Oh, my little rose,” The Queen of Thorn’s placed her hand on her granddaughter’s cheeks, rubbing the smooth skin with her thumb. “I wish you well,” a sad smile found its way across her cheeks. “Take care of Margie, Grandmother.” (Y/n) shed a few tears and Olenna nodded. “I will. I promise, my love.” She pulled away from her grandmother and turned to look at her mother and father.

Mace and Alerie gave their daughter a willful smile. “Good luck, daughter,” said Mace, his voice gruff with emotion and strength. “Be safe and watchful, my dear,” Alerie kissed her daughter’s forehead. (Y/n) nodded her head. “I will mother, father, I promise.” She moved onto her siblings. Little Margaery stood in her pretty green gown holding Garlan’s hand as her bottom lip quivered.

“Oh, Margie,” (Y/n) hugged her sister tightly, as Margaery sniffled and cried into her shoulder. “I do not want you to go!!” she sobbed. (Y/n) pressed her lips together in a thin line and held her. “I know, dearest, I know. I too wish I did not have to leave, but I must.” She pulled back and gave her a small smile, wiping the six-year-old’s tears. “I promise to be back as soon as I can. We’ll have a garden party for my return and you and I can wear the matching dresses Beth made for us,”

“You promise?” Margaery sniffled and looked at her older sister with her doe eyes. “I promise, dearest,” (Y/n) brought her lips to her forehead and kissed her gently. Next to Margaery, Loras approached her, wearing his silks and his hair in golden curls.

“Oh Loras, my brave knight,” (Y/n) smiled at her little brother and brought him into her arms. Though Loras was not openly crying like his little sister, (Y/n) could see his bottom lip quiver and tremble as he was fighting the tears. Loras’s little arms wrapped around her neck and he buried his face in her shoulder. Loras was very fond of his older sister and loved her very much. She’d never been away from him so long before, and he did not wish to part with her. He wanted to hold her close and stay there until the end of his days. But alas, (Y/n) pulled away from their hug and she gave him her most charming smile.

“Chin up, little knight.” She placed her index finger under his chin and lifted it.

Next was Garlan — who stood tall, and put on his “manly” face, and gave (Y/n) a smile. “Farewell, sister! I wish you safe travels.” His older sister gave him a smile and brought him into her arms. Hugging his chubby body to hers as she said her goodbyes.

When she got to Willas, she was having a hard time keeping the tears from slipping from her eyes. Willas was her twin. He was always by her side. He knew her like the back of his hand. He was her best friend. And she was leaving him. Trading him for dry heat and a ball.

“Oh Willas,” Tears flowed freely as she ignored his outstretched hand and pulled him in for a hug, making him stumbled a bit before he regained his footing and hugged his twin closely. She buried her face in his velvet-clad shoulder, breathing in his scent, as tears dripped into the velvet.

“Farewell, sister,” he whispered into her ear. She pulled away and brushed a few tears away, smiling sadly. “Farewell, dear brother,” Willas brought her head towards his lips and kissed her hair. She closed her eyes and enjoyed her brother’s embrace before she pulled away.

“My Lady, it is time to go, the wheelhouse is ready,” (Y/n) took a deep breath before answering her driver. “Thank you, Victor,” The man nodded and stood waiting for her by the door of the wheelhouse her family prepared for her.

(Y/n) took one last look at Highgarden, memorizing the walls, the gardens, the guards and servants, her family, before she sighed and walked down the marble steps to the gravel. Victor lent her his hand and helped her up into the wheelhouse. Once she settled in, Victor closed the door and left her alone in the silence. Soon the wheelhouse started moving and (Y/n) looked out the window of where she sat and waved goodbye at her family. She continued to stare out the window until the wheelhouse road out of the gates of Highgarden and Highgarden itself became small and distant.

She exhaled and sighed before she looked around and smiled. The interior was white with green and gold accents with light blue carpet. A small table sat next to the long cushioned bench that had a fresh vase of flowers from the gardens. (Y/n) sighed and leaned back against the bench, closing her eyes as she sat deep in thought.

This is going to be an endless journey.

Tyrion glared at his father. His mismatched eyes were narrowed dangerously as he watched his Lord father eat his dinner. His fists were clenched and his upper lip twitched with every minute that passed by. His Aunt Genna sat across from Tyrion, and even she was looking nervous with her gaunt skeleton of a husband sitting next to her. His Uncle Gerion could also feel the tension in the room and for once did not try to make jests and kept quiet — something that was so unlike him and his outspoken character.

Finally, Tyrion had enough. He slammed his fist on the table, making the silver jump, drawing everyone’s attention, including his Lord father.

Lord Tywin raised a brow at his son’s outburst and narrowed his own cold green eyes at him.

“What’s the matter now? Need to complain or make another impropriety jest?”

“How could you have not told me? Why was I the last to know?” Tyrion snarled, his voice rising high. “How could you have not asked me if I even wished for a blasted name-day ball?!”

Tywin’s own upper lip twitched as he glared at Tyrion. “You are my son, --” Tyrion scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “And you are the heir to Casterly Rock, whether or not I want you to. It is the law, and so before I hand down my title as Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock I wish to see you married to a High-born Lady who’ll give you the sons you need to pass down the family name. To ensure the legacy of House Lannister.” Tyrion tried to contain his anger and but it was overwhelming him in waves he admired and watched from a distance of the Sunset Sea.

“So you wish to subject me to torture and scrutinizing me by parading me around as if I was my brother Jamie. Do you not see its cruelty??” Genna spoke up, trying to clear the air between father and son.

“Tyrion, my dear, if a woman does not see you for who you are and only your stature as a dwarf, then she is not worthy of your hand or love,” she gave him a comforting smile, but Tyrion ignored it and laughed dryly.

“Oh, you are mistaken, beloved Aunt Genna, for no woman shall ever look upon me and see me without seeing me for who I truly am. A dwarf who’s cursed to be laughed at. A twisted demon monkey. Lord Tywin’s doom!” A humorless smirk spread across his face as Tywin stood up, fury in his eyes.

“If you wish to wallow in your own self-pity, I suggest you do it elsewhere. You are a Lannister--”

“Am I though? Am I truly a Lannister?” Tyrion cut in, his tongue sharp as a blade. Though he could not wield one as his brother Jamie can, Tyrion carried his own blade, his sharp tongue.

Lord Tywin simply stared at him, his calculating eyes studying Tyrion, from his mismatched eyes to his twisted limbs.

“Go,” Tywin nodded his head towards the doors to the Great Hall. “Leave my sight,” Tyrion pushed out from his chair and stormed out of the Hall, leaving his unfinished dinner behind.

He walked through the dim-lit corridors of Casterly Rock, passing paintings and portraits of the previous Lord Lannisters as he made his way to his room. He slammed the door hard once he arrived — throwing his shoes off and tossing his tunic to the floor in anger. He waddled to his bookshelf and pulled a book his Uncle Gerion got for him when he visited Essos.

Instead of focusing on the words before him, all Tyrion could focus on was the anger he felt towards his father, aunt, and mother.

He understood why his sister and father hated him so because, at that moment, he, too, hated himself. From the moment he drew breath in this world, his mother left it giving birth to a creature like him. He wished he could speak to her. Feel her warmth and love a mother always had for their children. He’d never felt in all his life, for not even his wet nurse loved him. Feeding him was a chore, and she did not wish to feed him. She would rather let him starve than have him suckle at her own breasts.

Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he cried. How could his father and aunt be so cruel? For even at ten and six name days, he knew, no woman would want him. The only women he could get were whores. No woman would care for him or love him. No woman would kiss him as if he was her knight or her Florian.

And so, Tyrion mourned the non-existence of love for himself. He wept for his doomed existence and for the ladies who’d have to endure him for a single night of torture. He cried and sobbed at the realization of his painful existence. For no one could ever love him. No one could love a twisted man like him. His sister was right, he was a little beast. And no woman in her right mind would ever love a beast.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

Chapter Four:

Casterly Rock was bustling with life. Servants rushed up and down the corridors, carrying banners, decorations, cleaning supplies. The Rock’s maids cleaned the guest rooms in the guest quarters of the castle, washing sheets and linen. In the kitchen was Genna Lannister, speaking in hushed tones with the head cook.

“My lady, I do not think we’ll be able to prepare all this food in such a short time.” The cook was a plump older woman with greying strands of hair mixed with her chestnut locks. Her eyes were slender and small, and she stood tall with her arms crossed over her stomach.

“Oh, I believe you will. Besides, you have all the ingredients you need to prepare the feast for the ball,” said Genna, a smile gracing her face as she stared at the cook with her green eyes. “Aye, my lady, we do. But I’m not worried about that, your ladyship. I’m more worried that we won’t have enough food to feed the guests after the ball, that is.”

Genna shook her head. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out Marcey, you are brilliant.” The way Genna Lannister complimented was strange indeed. The blonde Lannister made it sound as if she was patronizing you instead of giving you a compliment. Marcey shook her head and waved her hand. “Fine! But don’t complain to me when you lot are starving!” she muttered curses as she approached a few kitchen wenches, ordering them to gather up bowls and the necessary ingredients for the feast.

While Genna prepared Tyrion’s ball, Tyrion was in one of the hells of his own.

His blasted aunt decided it would be appropriate if he received some new garments for his name-day ball, so here he was. Standing on the tailor’s stool, letting the older gentleman measure his small stunted body as he lifted his arms up, waiting impatiently for this to be over.

He wanted to go down to the library and accompany the Maester of his home. He wanted to exchange ideas and knowledge about certain subjects he was interested in.

But alas, he was stuck here.

The young lion sighed and gave the short old man a glare as he measured his neck. The man smelled of sweat, sandalwood, and thread. His cerulean blue eyes were narrowed in concentration as he muttered about, writing the measurements down on his piece of parchment.

“My Lord, what textiles and color shall your new garments be?” Tyrion stepped off the stool and shrugged his shoulders. “I do not care about the textiles or color. I have no knowledge in that field of colors and textiles as you and my aunt have,” The man’s cheeks flushed, and he nodded his head saying a quiet “Of course, My Lord,” as he cleaned his station.

Tyrion waddled over to the window by his bed and looked out. The Sunset Sea was roaring and its waves crashed against the rocks and sands of the beach. The smell of salt and sea overwhelmed the young lion’s senses. His desire to feel the sand between his toes and hands grew more and more than he stared at the roaring waves. He wished he could sail with his beloved uncle, see the world for what it was. Explore Essos and stay in Mereen and experience the foreign land in its authentic form.

But as he stared into the deep blue waters, he felt his dreams and wishes fall through his fingers as sand did. He imagined himself trying to catch it and hold it close to his heart. His eyes grew in size as he thought about his forgotten and unattainable life. He would never be like his uncle. He would always be what he was, a dwarf who was lucky to bear the surname Lannister.

Tyrion shook his head, ridding the thoughts that swarmed in his mind. He sighed and ran a hand down his face in exasperation before he stopped mopping about. He grabbed a tome he borrowed from Maester Creylen and made his way out of his room.

Tyrion trekked down to The Stone Gardens where a twisted weirwood laid its roots. Though Tyrion was born in the light of the Seven and went to Mass and participated in the ritual costumes of the Seven, he was not religious in any way. He was like his father in that way. His Aunt Dorna, however, was a woman of strong faith. She participated in everything, prayed for everyone, and lit candles. So sitting in the godswood of the old gods of the North did nothing except influence his curiosity and fascination of being in the presence of the carved face tree.

He sat beneath the low branches at the base of the tree. He opened his tome, and began to read. He read for hours, letting the sun become low in the sky, while he hid away from the rest of the world. For the little lion held no interest in leaving his quiet place. Somewhere in the middle of his reading, he closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, it was dark in the godswood. Only the dim light of the candles shone and provided him light. He stretched and yawned, waking his body up. He winced at the cramp he received from sitting on the ground for too long and stood up shakily. Slowly, getting used to using his legs, he stumbled a bit, before he found his footing and set off to his room.

He was passing The Hall of Heroes when he was assaulted by a hand clasped on his shoulder. He turned around, his mouth opening in protest, but closed when he saw who it was. His big brother, Jamie Lannister.

“Jamie!!” A smile spread across Tyrion’s face as he stared at his older brother. Jamie’s hair had grown since he last saw him. The last time Tyrion visited Jamie was when Cersei married Robert Baratheon. The dreadful affair was tiresome and Tyrion did not find the trip enjoyable.

“Little brother,” said Jamie affectionately, a smile gracing his handsome face. “Why are you here?” Tyrion asked, confusion laced in his words. Jamie laughed and shook his head. “Did you think I’d miss out on my favorite brother’s name day ball?” Tyrion pouted and gave him a pointed stare. “Oh chin up, Tyrion.”

Tyrion shook his head and together the brothers walked to the Lion’s Keep, where all the Lannister’s rooms and family were kept.

“How was your journey here?” Tyrion asked, tilting his head. Jamie sighed. “Wonderful, though I am tired. Shall we continue this conversation of how fair my journey was in the morning?” Jamie was exhausted, his soft green eyes were drowsy with sleep and he fought to keep his eyelids open.

“Of course, brother,” Jamie gave Tyrion a thankful smile. “Does father know you’re here?” the taller blonde shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I did not tell him in order to surprise everyone.”

“Aunt Genna will not be pleased,” teased Tyrion. Both brothers knew how angry their Aunt could get if people or things happened unannounced, that she did not have time to prepare. She was like a roaring lioness, angry that her kill got away.

“Yes, well, I bet once she’s done with her tongue lashing she’ll be overjoyed to see her dashing nephew,” said Jamie, flashing his smile in Tyrion’s direction. Tyrion snorted before nodding in agreement.

The brother’s stopped at Jamie’s old quarters. Tyrion bid his older brother a good night before heading off to his own room a couple of doors down, passing Cersei’s old room.

Once dressed and ready for bed, Tyrion blew out the candles in his room before climbing into bed, letting the moon’s light shine into his opened window, bathing him in its light. Tyrion stared at the dark, cold, ceiling. His thoughts were arrayed as he tried to prepare himself for the horror and torment that was soon to come before his eyes betrayed him and gave way to the consuming darkness of sleep.

Favorite ASOIAF Characters Not Featured on Game of Thrones (Requested by @thorfanclub)

Genna Lannister

Favorite ASOIAF Characters Not Featured on Game of Thrones (Requested by @thorfanclub)

House Lannister. My fanart series for the Great Houses from the ASOIAF. I wanted to make this for the longest time.