Tywin Lannister, PM

Dec 03, 2012 14:08

For asoiafkinkmeme--these characters belong to GRRM.


Tywin emerged from a lengthy meeting with the cabinet-this idea of a coalition with the Lib Dems was absolute rubbish. He could not stand Nick Clegg-give him Ned Stark or Jon Arryn any day. He would have a word with that fool of a Cameron and his advisors. Perhaps-his mouth thinned-he’d have to give Cameron and Osborne (northmen both, godsdamn them!) a sharp lesson. He would think that through carefully-sharp lessons were his speciality. He might even ask Roose Bolton, who was a senior member of the Conservative Party, for his advice on this matter.

He walked into Number Ten to find his brother Kevan frowning as he clicked through the news stories on the Internet.

“What’s the matter, Kevan? Is there anything you need to bring to my attention?”

Kevan sighed deeply. “Tywin, my dear fellow, I would love to spare you this but...”

Tywin pulled up an office chair and sat down next to Kevan, so that he could peer into the screen of his laptop. “Bring me a coffee, black, no cream, no sugar,” he instructed the girl-her name was Nan.

She walked up to him a few minutes later, bringing him coffee in a fine bone china cup, just as Kevan finished downloading a video of Cersei chairing a UN meeting on women’s rights. He clicked open the clip.

She had finished her speech-the American Secretary of State Hilary Clinton was speaking. Tywin remembered meeting her a few months ago, to decide just what to do with Libya. She had been charming but firm-a tough customer. Cersei was watching her, a look of distaste on her face. She said, out of the corner of her mouth, to her aide, Falyse Stokeworth, “I don’t blame her husband for cheating on her-have you seen her wrinkles? Do you think anyone will vote for her as President, knowing that she stood by him despite the humiliation? She should meet Catelyn Tully-they could compare notes on their straying husbands.” He could hear it clearly on the clip-Cersei had not noticed that the mike was on. Mrs Clinton continued to speak, oblivious to the nasty comments his daughter had just made.

Tywin sighed deeply as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d tried to train Cersei-he really had tried-to not make such remarks in public. If she chose to get nasty, she should do it in the privacy of her own home, in the bosom of her family. At least they would understand. This clip would now go out all over the world-she could, he decided, forget about that safe seat in Parliament she’d wanted as a fortieth birthday present.

That evening, he was just getting to bed after another exhausting day (Europe was giving him problems-why, oh why, had Labour signed the European Declaration of Rights?) and thought he would enjoy watching some TV. A talk show or comedy would be good. He decided on the former, and selected a show that was just about to start.

Well, it appeared he was in for a treat-who should he see seated opposite the talk show host but his youngest and least favourite offspring, Tyrion? What was that boy doing in the US? Who had given him permission to leave the shores of England? He would have his passport impounded-and he would have a few words to say to the Home Office, for daring to issue a passport to Tyrion Lannister, without his father’s permission.

Tywin tried to calm down-he could not forget how anxious Pycelle had been about his blood pressure readings only a few days ago-as he watched the talk show host take Tyrion through his background-his education at Eton and Oxford; his research into the origins of man; his interest in dinosaurs; his fascination with mythical beasts, such as dragons and unicorns, concluding with a discussion of his sex life.

Evidently, Tyrion had been in the US, on a lecture tour. He’d been hard at it, travelling up and down the country, educating the unwashed masses. His tour had concluded in Las Vegas, where Tyrion, it appeared, had gone wild. He’d been at the tables and at the women; his lecture tour may not have made news while he was on it, but it did make news when he was caught having sex with a prostitute in a public place by the cops.

Tywin switched off his television, feeling furious. All that he’d done to restore respect and respectability to the Lannister name-and this stupid boy had to flush it down the privy like so much excrement. He shut off the lamp on the table at his bedside and tried to sleep. He tried not to think about his children or the country-instead, he counted sheep.

The next day, he woke up, not feeling rested at all. He did not know how many sheep he had counted till he finally slept. When he got to the breakfast table, he scanned the news pages, trying not to look at that picture of Cersei or the other one of Tyrion on the front pages. He turned to news of the war in Afghanistan-he hoped it was going well. He knew he would hear no end of it from Ned Stark-both his boys-Robb the trueborn heir and Jon the bastard-were at the front; Tywin had several nephews there too, as well as Jaime, who was in the news.

Apparently, several IEDs had exploded in the sector where Jaime’s unit was patrolling in Afghanistan. According to intelligence reports, these IEDs were set up by terror groups in Pakistan-so Jaime and his men were patrolling the border, to prevent infiltration. And Jaime was now facing a court of enquiry for shooting at people he assumed were terrorists, but who turned out to be wedding guests. He almost choked on his scrambled eggs when he read the news.

When he got to his office, things got worse. It appeared the girl (“Number Sixteen,” as Petyr Baelish referred to her) who had just given birth to yet another one of Robert’s children, refused to give the child up for adoption; she was crazy about Robert, and she wanted him to divorce his wife and live with her instead. She was threatening to go public with her story. Tywin wondered what Cersei would say if the tabloids did publish this. What if the Daily Mail were to find out that Robert had been straying even after he married Cersei? What if they found out he was the father of sixteen children born out of wedlock? What if they found out that his father-in-law disbursed obscene amounts of money to keep this quiet? He would have to pay this girl off, he thought grimly-perhaps he should send Robert to a family planning clinic, to learn how to make love, not babies.
As he was leaving for lunch, he got a call from Sandor Clegane. Evidently, Joffrey had lost his temper yet again, because the Lannisport Lions football team he supported, coached by Joanna’s idiot brother Stafford, had lost to the Winterfell Wolves, coached by one of Ned Stark’s boys-Bran or Rickon, it did not matter which. When he tried to beat up Sansa Stark, his one-time fiancée, to express his feelings of rage at the humiliation of this defeat, he was immediately arrested by the policewoman assigned to protect her, Sergeant Brienne Tarth. He was at a police station close to the LSE-Clegane was calling because the bail had been set for an obscenely high amount, and he, Tywin, would have to pay, as he always did.

tywin lannister, uk, modern au, asoiaf, cersei lannister, joffrey baratheon, robert baratheon, jaime lannister, tyrion lannister

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