Willas Tyrell - Tumblr Posts

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.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

Chapter One:

The rose garden of Highgarden was always beautiful at this time of year. The roses were in full bloom, and the smell of fruit permeated the air. Singers and fiddlers were out today singing their jolly tunes while girls as pretty as the flowers nearby danced with each other, giggling and sampling delicacies from the kitchen. A soft wind blew through, fluttering the ladies' myrish lace and silk gowns, and tumbling their long hair, showing off a bit of skin. Sitting under a canopy was the Lady Olenna of Highgarden, watching her granddaughter’s and cousin’s daughter’s dance. Her eyes were trained on her eldest granddaughter, the Lady (Y/n) Tyrell, and her second granddaughter, Lady Margaery, barely only six name days, dances with her older sister.

The corners of the Queen of Thorn’s lips twitched at the sight of her two precious roses. “My Lady, the cheese is served.” Lady Olenna tore her eyes away from her granddaughters to look at the servant boy, sweating profusely. She arched a brow and eyed the green boy. “Tell me, did you sweat all over it too, boy?” Alerie Hightower turned her head from the conversation she was having and turned her attention to her mother-in-law.

“Mother, perhaps you should go easy on the boy—”

“Don’t tell me what to do and don’t call me Mother. I would’ve remembered carrying you,” she said spitefully at her son’s wife. “Now, answer me, boy, did you sweat over my cheese, as you are sweating all over your uniform?” The boy stuttered, and his mouth was agape. Lady Olenna scoffed and waved her hand in a dismissing motion. “Someone get me a new plate of cheese that does not have sweat all over it! Along with some figs!” she shouted, and three servants jumped to attention and raced off to get the Queen of Thorn’s food.

“Grandmother, you needn’t be so harsh on the boy,” commented Lady (Y/n) as she glided up to her grandmother, passing cousins adorning on the cushioned chairs and pillows in the canopy. Lady Olenna gave her a smirk. “Of course I must. The boy need’s to learn my Rose.” She brought her frail spotted hand up to her granddaughter’s cheek and patted it, admiring her beauty.

“Now,” The Queen of Thorn’s patted the seat next to her, inviting her granddaughter to sit. “Where is Margaery?” she asked once Lady (Y/n) sat down beside her. “With Willas and Garlan,” she said breathlessly. “Hmm, tired of dancing?” Lady (Y/n) gave her a scoff. “My feet feel as if I’ve been walking all over thorns,” she complained, rolling her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes (Y/n), it’s unbecoming,” Olenna scolded her granddaughter.

Ever since Lady (Y/n) was born, Olenna has been training her in the arts of cunning, seduction, manipulation, and beauty. Lady Olenna had big plans for both of her granddaughters, and each step she took was a calculated move to benefit the Tyrell family.

Perhaps she could marry Margaery off to the new princeling the Lannister Queen gave birth to — a Tyrell Queen. Yes, Lady Olenna liked the sound of that.

Music played on as the afternoon soon grew into dusk. The fiddlers fiddled, and the singers sang, and the harpers harped, all while the girls of House Tyrell and distant cousins danced under the rays of the sun. The day finally ended, and Lady Olenna was in her solar when her son and his wife and her grandson, Willas, entered. Her twin guards Erryk and Arryk were trying to block the entrance, waiting for their Lady to give the approval of the interruption.

“My Lady, we are sorry for the interruption, Lord Tyrell insisted —”

“It’s quite alright, left, right, let them through. It must be important if my fat oaf of a son climbed all those steps to see me.” she snarled as she placed her quill down and looked at her family. Mace was breathless, his right hand was placed above his gut, trying to calm himself down from the long trip up the stairs, while Alerie stood off to the side with her hands placed on Willas’s shoulders.

“Well? What is it?” Olenna snapped, impatient. Mace took a deep breath before speaking. “Mother, I’ve just received a raven from the Westerlands—” Olenna scoffed and leaned back in her chair. “It was from Lord Tywin Lannister.” Mace paused for a few beats of silence. “Well, what does the old lion from Casterly Rock want? I can’t imagine he’d be begging for gold this early in Robert Baratheon’s reign.”

“He’s inviting (Y/n) to Casterly Rock, along with many other noble ladies to meet his son, Tyrion Lannister in hopes to have a betrothal. Apparently, they’re having some sort of ball for his heir’s nameday.” In all she could’ve imagined, Olenna never would’ve thought the old lion, murder of two houses, Reign and Tarbeck, would be asking to have a betrothal between houses Tyrell and Lannister to his half-man son.

“No.” Mace exchanged a look with Alerie. “Mother—”

“No. (Y/n) deserves a full man, not some dwarf.” Olenna narrowed her eyes at Mace. “You’re not really considering this proposal, are you?” Mace gulped and nodded his head. “Well, mother, yes I was. Lord Tywin is a powerful man and we should want to have an alliance with him. Besides’ he’s not asking for (Y/n)’s hand now, he’s inviting her to meet his son and enjoy the Westerlands and Casterly Rock.”

Olenna scoffed and shook her head. “A lion simply does not invite, they command.” She stared at Willas and sighed. “Before you reply, Mace, you must tell (Y/n). She must decide if she wishes to go or not.”

“Mother, I have to say yes! Otherwise—”

“If (Y/n) say’s no, I will deal with the Lion of Casterly Rock.” A smirk crossed Olenna’s features as she challenged her son. Mace grunted and groaned before nodding his head in agreement. “I will tell her tomorrow as we break our fast.”

Satisfied with his answer, Olenna nodded her head in triumphant and waved her hand, dismissing him. “Go, all of you,”

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

Chapter Two:

(Y/n) never tired of seeing her extensive selection of gowns. She loved to gaze and run her fingers through the fabric, feeling the softness of the lace and silk. In her afternoon lessons with her grandmother, she learned appearance was everything in the art of manipulation.

“My lady, which gown do you wish to wear today?” asked her handmaiden, Lucille, as she finished pinning her hair up. (Y/n) admired her reflection in the looking glass and sighed. “I think the dark amethyst one I received recently from Beth,” Beth was (Y/n)’s personal seamstress, always creating gowns for her and producing the most beautiful gowns and fabric she’d ever seen in the Reach.

“Of course, My Lady,” (Y/n) smiled and checked her appearance. She was a woman now, ten and six name-days, and with her recent moonblood, she was ready to marry if her Father wished. She was ready to bear children and become a Lady of a Castle or Holdfast.

Lucille came back holding the dark amethyst gown, smiling at (Y/n). She laid the gown across her lady’s made bed and helped her into her corset. Once she was done lacing the corset, Lucille helped (Y/n) into the gown, making sure the cloth draped over her body and did not get caught or tangled with her shift. The dress sported a wide neckline that dipped right above the tops of her breasts, with puffy shoulders and a long sleeve that cinched around the wrists. The gown was loose and flowed out under her breasts, creating an illusion that she was floating. A layer of sheer white organza with gold embroidered roses draped over the skirt of the dress.

Once dressed, Lady (Y/n) smiled at her reflection before departing from her room. The slight heel of her slippers echoed against the marble floor with each step she took. The walls were decorated with green and gold accents, with portraits of Garth the Gardener, Catherine the Thorn of Highgarden, and previous Lords of Highgarden. Many of the walls and ceilings were covered in paintings from many artists over the years of Highgarden’s rule of the Reach, and many of those paintings told stories of sorrow, pain, love, lust, and prosperity.

On sleepless nights, (Y/n) would study and look on vigorously at those paintings, trying to piece every puzzle of the story together. Sometimes she’d be accompanied by her twin or younger brother Garlan, other times she was alone with only the paintings to keep her company.

As she walked steadily towards the dining hall, (Y/n) passed many rooms occupied by her cousins and family members that stayed in Highgarden with her family. Along with music rooms, a sewing room — where she and her sister and their female cousins occupied most days with their Septa, as well as an enormous library, and dance rooms (where they practiced their dancing).

Downstairs, she passed a few servants who stopped and greeted her before continuing their duties, along with a cousin or two and an aunt conversing with an uncle, before she happened in the dining hall. At the head of the table was her father, and next to him her grandmother and mother — and next to her mother was her twin, Willas. Garlan was seated next to her empty seat.

“Good morning everyone,” she greeted, a smile adorned on her face. A manservant pulled out her chair, and she gave him a polite nod and smile as she sat down. “Good morning dear, how was your sleep?” asked Alerie, giving her eldest daughter a fond smile. “Very well Mother,”

A maid served (Y/n) and poured her cup of milky tea as she reached for a bowl of fruit and spooned some onto her plate. “What about you? How was your evening?” she asked, her eyes meeting her mother’s. Alerie exchanged a look with her husband. (Y/n) noticed the glance and her mother’s worried eyes. “What is it?” she asked, her brows furrowing quizzically.

Willas watched as his parents exchanged a few more glances before his father signed and laced his meaty hands together.

“(Y/n), darling, as you know you’ve just pasted your sixteenth name day,” Mace hesitated, trying to find the correct words. “And well, you’re at the proper age to meet young lords and have a betrothal.” (Y/n) nodded her head in understanding. She knew this day would come, the day her father and mother would start sending her to balls and banquets and maybe even to court to find a suitable husband.

“And we’ve just received your first invitation to an outing.” Mace glanced at his mother and noticed her glare. “Who was it from?” asked (Y/n) as she placed her fork down. She was curious to know what ball she was attending. “It was from Lord Tywin Lannister, my dear. His son Tyrion is having a ball at Casterly Rock.” Silence filled the dining hall, as all the Tyrell’s eyes were on (Y/n), watching her reaction to the news. A beat or two passed before (Y/n) spoke. “Lord Tyrion?”

“Yes, apparently Lord Tywin has grown tired of begging and pleading the Lords of Westeros to send their daughter’s hand in marriage to his imp of a son,” complained Olenna, rolling her eyes. “Mother!!” Olenna snapped her head towards Mace and glared. “Shut up you oaf,”

“Now, my rose,” Olenna shifted her attention to (Y/n) and gave her a look. “This is your decision. If you wish to attend this ball, you may, but if not, I will personally write to Lord Tywin and express your apologies.” (Y/n) knew her grandmother would not be polite or remember her curtseys whilst writing to Lord Tywin; she would let him have a tongue lashing.

“I-I- I’m not sure. May I think upon this?” she asked, trying to weigh the decision of attending Lord Lannister’s ball for his son. “Of course dearest, take all the time you need,” spoke Alerie softly. (Y/n) nodded her head in thanks before she returned her attention to her food.

Later, after breaking fast, instead of joining her cousin’s in the sewing room, (Y/n) was wandering through the gardens. She walked at a slow pace, her fingers were fiddling anxiously. Usually, she would close her mind and enjoy the peacefulness of the gardens, listen to the sounds of birds, enjoy the wind rustling the roses bushes, and the wind breathing against her skin. But today she found no comfort in the scent of the flowers, nor the wind kissing her skin could tear her away from her head. She was deep in her thoughts, her conscious weighing the advantages and disadvantages of her situation, and her fear of leaving Highgarden.

(Y/n) knew nothing about Lord Tyrion except his dwarfism. She knew not if he was kind or gentle, if he liked to sing or hunt. Was he mean and cruel? Would he take out the frustrations of his stature on her? Would he be angry if she slipped up and said something offensive? Who is Lord Tyrion?

(Y/n) was not the person to judge another by their looks. She was gentle and kind, and treated and judge a person by their character — but she would not lie that meeting Lord Tyrion was making her nervous.

She sighed and sat down at a marble bench beneath a marble statue of a maiden. Her hands wove together as she stared at her fingertips. The wind blew through the garden once more, lightly kissing her skin as she bit on her bottom lip.

If she went and met Lord Tyrion, she would help her family and House. Even if she did not have a betrothal with Lord Tyrion, she was still helping by showing her face. If the Lords of Westeros found out that she was at Lord Tywin’s ball, they most certainly will invite her to other balls and banquets, and outings. Either way, she would have a chance at making a possible marriage alliance.

(Y/n) sighed once more before looking up at the sound of someone sitting down next to her. Her twin sat next to her, his crippled leg stretched outwards and his walking stick leaned against his body as he looked at her. Willas gave (Y/n) his charming smile, making her smile in return.

“Are you alright?” his voice was smooth as silk. “I’m not sure.” (Y/n) replied. Her voice betrayed the emotions she was trying to hide.

“It’s very generous that Lord Lannister extended an invitation to me, and it would be rude to decline him. Besides, it would be beneficial if I went to his son’s name day ball.”

“Sister,” Willas placed his hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes. “Do you wish to go? I don’t care what Father or Lord Lannister thinks or wishes, I’m asking you whether or not you wish to go?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes as she looked on at her brother with love. “Oh, Willas,” she threw her arms around her twin and sobbed. She wept for her childhood, for her innocence. She was no longer a child, she was a maiden. She was ready to be led as a pig for slaughter to the lord with the highest bid.

Willas held her in his arms as she mourned her childhood, while he kissed her head and rubbed her back.

Once she calmed down and dried her tears, she inhaled deeply. “I wish to go, brother,”

He nodded his head and held her hand in his. “Let’s deliver the news to father,”

Here is the dress the reader wore in today’s chapter:

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚

Chapter Two:

(Y/n) never tired of seeing her extensive selection of gowns. She loved to gaze and run her fingers through the fabric, feeling the softness of the lace and silk. In her afternoon lessons with her grandmother, she learned appearance was everything in the art of manipulation.

“My lady, which gown do you wish to wear today?” asked her handmaiden, Lucille, as she finished pinning her hair up. (Y/n) admired her reflection in the looking glass and sighed. “I think the dark amethyst one I received recently from Beth,” Beth was (Y/n)’s personal seamstress, always creating gowns for her and producing the most beautiful gowns and fabric she’d ever seen in the Reach.

“Of course, My Lady,” (Y/n) smiled and checked her appearance. She was a woman now, ten and six name-days, and with her recent moonblood, she was ready to marry if her Father wished. She was ready to bear children and become a Lady of a Castle or Holdfast.

Lucille came back holding the dark amethyst gown, smiling at (Y/n). She laid the gown across her lady’s made bed and helped her into her corset. Once she was done lacing the corset, Lucille helped (Y/n) into the gown, making sure the cloth draped over her body and did not get caught or tangled with her shift. The dress sported a wide neckline that dipped right above the tops of her breasts, with puffy shoulders and a long sleeve that cinched around the wrists. The gown was loose and flowed out under her breasts, creating an illusion that she was floating. A layer of sheer white organza with gold embroidered roses draped over the skirt of the dress.

Once dressed, Lady (Y/n) smiled at her reflection before departing from her room. The slight heel of her slippers echoed against the marble floor with each step she took. The walls were decorated with green and gold accents, with portraits of Garth the Gardener, Catherine the Thorn of Highgarden, and previous Lords of Highgarden. Many of the walls and ceilings were covered in paintings from many artists over the years of Highgarden’s rule of the Reach, and many of those paintings told stories of sorrow, pain, love, lust, and prosperity.

On sleepless nights, (Y/n) would study and look on vigorously at those paintings, trying to piece every puzzle of the story together. Sometimes she’d be accompanied by her twin or younger brother Garlan, other times she was alone with only the paintings to keep her company.

As she walked steadily towards the dining hall, (Y/n) passed many rooms occupied by her cousins and family members that stayed in Highgarden with her family. Along with music rooms, a sewing room — where she and her sister and their female cousins occupied most days with their Septa, as well as an enormous library, and dance rooms (where they practiced their dancing).

Downstairs, she passed a few servants who stopped and greeted her before continuing their duties, along with a cousin or two and an aunt conversing with an uncle, before she happened in the dining hall. At the head of the table was her father, and next to him her grandmother and mother — and next to her mother was her twin, Willas. Garlan was seated next to her empty seat.

“Good morning everyone,” she greeted, a smile adorned on her face. A manservant pulled out her chair, and she gave him a polite nod and smile as she sat down. “Good morning dear, how was your sleep?” asked Alerie, giving her eldest daughter a fond smile. “Very well Mother,”

A maid served (Y/n) and poured her cup of milky tea as she reached for a bowl of fruit and spooned some onto her plate. “What about you? How was your evening?” she asked, her eyes meeting her mother’s. Alerie exchanged a look with her husband. (Y/n) noticed the glance and her mother’s worried eyes. “What is it?” she asked, her brows furrowing quizzically.

Willas watched as his parents exchanged a few more glances before his father signed and laced his meaty hands together.

“(Y/n), darling, as you know you’ve just pasted your sixteenth name day,” Mace hesitated, trying to find the correct words. “And well, you’re at the proper age to meet young lords and have a betrothal.” (Y/n) nodded her head in understanding. She knew this day would come, the day her father and mother would start sending her to balls and banquets and maybe even to court to find a suitable husband.

“And we’ve just received your first invitation to an outing.” Mace glanced at his mother and noticed her glare. “Who was it from?” asked (Y/n) as she placed her fork down. She was curious to know what ball she was attending. “It was from Lord Tywin Lannister, my dear. His son Tyrion is having a ball at Casterly Rock.” Silence filled the dining hall, as all the Tyrell’s eyes were on (Y/n), watching her reaction to the news. A beat or two passed before (Y/n) spoke. “Lord Tyrion?”

“Yes, apparently Lord Tywin has grown tired of begging and pleading the Lords of Westeros to send their daughter’s hand in marriage to his imp of a son,” complained Olenna, rolling her eyes. “Mother!!” Olenna snapped her head towards Mace and glared. “Shut up you oaf,”

“Now, my rose,” Olenna shifted her attention to (Y/n) and gave her a look. “This is your decision. If you wish to attend this ball, you may, but if not, I will personally write to Lord Tywin and express your apologies.” (Y/n) knew her grandmother would not be polite or remember her curtseys whilst writing to Lord Tywin; she would let him have a tongue lashing.

“I-I- I’m not sure. May I think upon this?” she asked, trying to weigh the decision of attending Lord Lannister’s ball for his son. “Of course dearest, take all the time you need,” spoke Alerie softly. (Y/n) nodded her head in thanks before she returned her attention to her food.

Later, after breaking fast, instead of joining her cousin’s in the sewing room, (Y/n) was wandering through the gardens. She walked at a slow pace, her fingers were fiddling anxiously. Usually, she would close her mind and enjoy the peacefulness of the gardens, listen to the sounds of birds, enjoy the wind rustling the roses bushes, and the wind breathing against her skin. But today she found no comfort in the scent of the flowers, nor the wind kissing her skin could tear her away from her head. She was deep in her thoughts, her conscious weighing the advantages and disadvantages of her situation, and her fear of leaving Highgarden.

(Y/n) knew nothing about Lord Tyrion except his dwarfism. She knew not if he was kind or gentle, if he liked to sing or hunt. Was he mean and cruel? Would he take out the frustrations of his stature on her? Would he be angry if she slipped up and said something offensive? Who is Lord Tyrion?

(Y/n) was not the person to judge another by their looks. She was gentle and kind, and treated and judge a person by their character — but she would not lie that meeting Lord Tyrion was making her nervous.

She sighed and sat down at a marble bench beneath a marble statue of a maiden. Her hands wove together as she stared at her fingertips. The wind blew through the garden once more, lightly kissing her skin as she bit on her bottom lip.

If she went and met Lord Tyrion, she would help her family and House. Even if she did not have a betrothal with Lord Tyrion, she was still helping by showing her face. If the Lords of Westeros found out that she was at Lord Tywin’s ball, they most certainly will invite her to other balls and banquets, and outings. Either way, she would have a chance at making a possible marriage alliance.

(Y/n) sighed once more before looking up at the sound of someone sitting down next to her. Her twin sat next to her, his crippled leg stretched outwards and his walking stick leaned against his body as he looked at her. Willas gave (Y/n) his charming smile, making her smile in return.

“Are you alright?” his voice was smooth as silk. “I’m not sure.” (Y/n) replied. Her voice betrayed the emotions she was trying to hide.

“It’s very generous that Lord Lannister extended an invitation to me, and it would be rude to decline him. Besides, it would be beneficial if I went to his son’s name day ball.”

“Sister,” Willas placed his hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes. “Do you wish to go? I don’t care what Father or Lord Lannister thinks or wishes, I’m asking you whether or not you wish to go?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes as she looked on at her brother with love. “Oh, Willas,” she threw her arms around her twin and sobbed. She wept for her childhood, for her innocence. She was no longer a child, she was a maiden. She was ready to be led as a pig for slaughter to the lord with the highest bid.

Willas held her in his arms as she mourned her childhood, while he kissed her head and rubbed her back.

Once she calmed down and dried her tears, she inhaled deeply. “I wish to go, brother,”

He nodded his head and held her hand in his. “Let’s deliver the news to father,”

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 (Tyrion Lannister x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapters

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

the tyrell brothers

*peter mooney as willas, ben lamb as garlan, luke treadaway as loras

✧ summer giveaway: Sansa & Willas for @colmfahey

ASOIAF meme | [2/4] characters who are not portrayed in the show ►Willas Tyrell

↳   “ Willas is heir to Highgarden, and by all reports a mild and courtly young man, fond of reading books and looking at the stars. He has a passion for breeding animals as well, and owns the finest hounds, hawks, and horses in the Seven Kingdoms ”

Valentines Rare Pairs Week: Day 5 ~ Love Letters ↳ In an effort to reforge a bleeding Westeros into one united realm, Queen Daenerys negotiated a series of political marriages. When she suggested a match between Sansa Stark and Willas Tyrell, the two began writing to each other to see how well they might suit. Sansa well remembered the tales Margaery told of her brother with his bad leg and good heart as well as the glories of Highgarden. But she wished to learn what she could from the man himself and he genuinely wished to know her as well.

The letters began formal and proper at the start. She asked polite questions about Highgarden and his love of animals, while he inquired after her interests and hobbies. Soon she was sending him drafts of her poetry while he was having a barge built for her called “Sweet Sansa” and training a few pups she might like.

With all the letters Sansa and Willas exchanged during their engagement, by the time they wed at the Great Sept of Baelor, they were half in love with each other. Though they were rarely apart from that day on, through the rest of their lives they continued exchanging love letters and notes with verses.

and puppies and the barge, and sons named eddard and bran and rickon.

↳ 19th of december ♡ for @kuweiyulbo

aesthetics  ☆  sansa & willas 

                     She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me.                     She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

asoiaf meme: [1/3] ships ➡ sansa stark and willas tyrell

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me.

“I want Willas, I want Highgarden and the puppies and the barge, and sons named Eddard and Bran and Rickon.” (for @narcissae)

posters  →  sansa stark & willas tyrell  •.★

for @colmfahey​, winner of the best desktop theme award ♡

— about willas tyrell

i will be safe in highgarden. willas will keep me safe.

Willas has a bad leg but a good heart

ASOIAF MOODBOARD : Sansa x Willas

asoiaf meme (minor characters): 3/4 legends more characters ~ willas tyrell

Willas is heir to Highgarden, and by all reports a mild and courtly young man, fond of reading books and looking at the stars. He has a passion for breeding animals as well, and owns the finest hounds, hawks, and horses in the Seven Kingdoms. // peter mooney as willas tyrell