Tybolt stood outside the door to his father's chambers, scuffing his boots on the floor as he waited nervously for his father to call him into the room. Having been summoned by his father a little over an hour before the feast, Tybolt had been a muddle of emotions on his way to meet his father properly since his arrival in Winterfell. Nervousness, excitement, love and, oddly enough, anger, all filled him in equal measure; the anger that Tybolt felt for his father came only because he thought that his father had not fought hard enough in his rebellion, the failure of which resulted in Tybolt's current situation in Winterfell. However, the trepidation he had for the reunion, and any animosity that Tybolt felt for his father, evaporated the second the door was opened and he saw his father standing in front of him, a smile upon his face.

"Tybolt! Come in, come in." Tywin said as he stood back to allow his son access to the room.

"Thank you father." he replied, walking into the middle of the room.

"Would you like a drink?" his father asked, raising in eyebrows in question.

"Oh...oh why not. Yes." Tybolt said as he stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. "Please." he added hastily, eliciting a smirk from his father.

"Sit. There is no need to stand on ceremony. You are my son and heir, you do not need to lavish courtesies upon me like everyone else." Tywin said as he gave Tybolt a chalice of wine before sitting in the chair opposite his son.

"If you say so father." he replied, taking a sip of his wine.

Tywin sat in his chair, looking at his son, saying nothing. His piercing gaze, although uncomfortable for Tybolt, scrutinised every aspect of his body, as if Tywin was judging whether or not his son was worthy of the family; whether he was worthy of Casterly Rock.

"You have the build of a warrior. Much like Jaime." he said finally after several minutes. "What remains to be seen, however," he continued. "is whether you have the same intellectual capacity you had before you were brought here. For all his faults, and all the shame he has brought upon our family, I cannot deny that Tyrion is the most intelligent of my children; he understands how the Game is played. Now, we shall have to see if you do. Come," Tywin said, as he stood. "we shall play cyvasse." he continued, walking over to a small table upon which lay an intricately carved mahogany box which, when opened, was revealed to contain a full set of solid gold cyvasse pieces. Upon closer inspection, Tybolt could see that all the pieces, bar the dragon, had the Lannister sigil carved into their chests and shields. The craftsmanship of the set was incredible and of such a high calibre that Tybolt's mouth fell open a bit, eliciting a small chuckle from Tywin.

"Beautiful isn't it," Tywin said. "From the goldsmiths at Casterly Rock."

Tybolt nodded. "It is the finest thing I have ever seen." he said in wonder.

"It's yours. If you can beat me." Tywin said with a predatory smile as he seated himself. Tybolt grinned and promptly sat himself in the chair opposite his father, watching silently as he set his pieces out on the board.

"I assume you know how to play." Tywin said, not looking up from the board.

"Of course." Tybolt replied. He had learnt the game from a travelling knight, a man from the Reach, and he had played several times with Robb, but he was still doubtful that he could beat his father.

"Gods, this will be hard." Tybolt thought. "Well, I'll give it me all. I hope that's all it'll take."

Tybolt set his pieces up in a similar way to his father. "'Always watch the eyes', that's what the knight said. 'The body can lie but the eyes always betray you'." Tybolt thought as watched his father assess the board before making his move. Once his father had moved a piece, Tybolt thought a minute before moving one of his own. Before he did so, however, he heard a faint whisper and turned his head to see where it had come from. His sharp eyes swept across the room, searching for the source of the sound but found nothing.

"Tybolt? Is something wrong?" his father asked curiously.

"No father. I thought I heard something that's all." he replied, turning back to the game and moving a piece forward.

"Wrong move." the voice whispered as softly as a breath of wind. Tybolt shook his head gently to get rid of the thought, but as he did so he saw his father grin and move his dragon to take Tybolt's king.

"I win." his father said. "You should not have moved that piece where you did. It would have been better to take this piece here." Tywin continued, gesturing towards one of his pieces. "That would have stopped me from moving my dragon there. You should have sacrificed your piece to win the game."

"The voice was right. If it was a voice at all. It must just be my nerves around father. It must be. Mustn't it?" Tybolt thought before shaking his head and taking a sip of his wine. "It's the nerves." he assured himself before leaning forward again.

"Again." he said, collecting his pieces and repositioning them on the board.

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "So soon?" he asked. He looked outside briefly and saw that the sun had not yet begun to set. "Very well. We have time for one more game; the feast begins at sundown." he said, doing the same as Tybolt did and positioned his pieces in the same way as before. When he was ready, he looked up at his son.

"Shall we begin?"

…

One hour later the last of the sun's rays filled Tywin's room with light, making the walls look as if they were made of pure gold, as Tybolt moved his king forward, securing his victory over his father. Tybolt laughed, a radiant smile spread across his face, as his father cursed and slumped back in his seat.

"Well Father? Was that a win or was that a win?!" he laughed.

Tywin shook his head, the hint of a smile flitting across his face. "You learn fast." he said. "It was a good win. But we will play more. You must learn strategy if you are to be Lord of the West." he continued as he stood up to refill his chalice.

"I still beat you though." Tybolt quipped back, the elation of victory still riding high with him. He too stood and held his chalice out to be filled. His father shook his head.

"No. The feast will begin soon and you cannot embarrass our house by drinking yourself into oblivion, as our esteemed king will no doubt do." Tywin admonished.

Tybolt sighed. "Yes Father." He walked back to the table and turned once more to Tywin. "So the set is now mine?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes." his father replied. "Do not lose it. Or gamble it away. Oh and one more thing." Tywin continued.

"Yes Father?" Tybolt asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"The cyvasse set is not your nameday gift. No, what I have in mind is of far greater value and importance. I have searched for it since the day I became Lord of Casterly Rock. You will get the first part of it soon. Mayhap on the morrow. I do not doubt that it will leave you speechless as it did me." he said with a gentle smile. "Anyhow, you should ready yourself for the feast. It will start in a short while." he continued as Tybolt finished gathering the pieces up and placing them into the box.

Realising that he had been dismissed by his father, Tybolt nodded curtly, turned on his heel and walked out of the room with the cyvasse box under his arm, making his way to his own chambers. As he walked back, he stopped by a window that looked out onto the training yard where he could see Robb and Jon sparring together. He chuckled as he saw Jon knock Robb backwards, before he glimpsed a streak of red below him. Turning his gaze to the source, he saw Sansa.

"Sansa. Beautiful Sansa. Gods how I wish you were mine." Tybolt pined, as his throat began to choke up and a small tear began to form in his eye. Tybolt could not explain the love he had for her, but he knew that it was more than simple lust – though that was certainly a part of it. That was why he was somewhat surprised when he realised why King Robert had come to Winterfell; not only to ask Lord Stark to be his Hand, but also to arrange a marriage with his eldest son and Sansa; Robert's obsession with the Stark family could only have led him to this, something that Tybolt should have recognised, and yet the fury he had felt when he had come to that revelation had quite frankly frightened him – he knew the stories about the origins of Robert's Rebellion and the death and destruction that had come with the passion of its origins; he knew that he should forget about her, that he should move on from her and that he should do whatever he could to get rid of his infatuation with her, but Tybolt knew that what he felt for Sansa was more than just infatuation. Shaking himself from his daydreaming and wiping the tear from his eye, Tybolt continued on his way.

"I should not think of her in such a way. It is not becoming to have such thoughts about her, about the girl -no, woman- that I love. I suppose I will have to find a girl to satisfy myself with if I can not have her." Tybolt thought sadly.

…

On his return to his chambers, he saw a serving girl standing nervously outside his door. He vaguely recognised her before realising that she was the girl who had filled his bath a few weeks ago. A charming smile upon his face he approached the girl.

"My lady." he said, looking at her intently.

Upon seeing him and hearing the courtesy given her, she turned a bright shade of red. Curtseying, the girl stammered out a reply.

"M-m-milord. L-lord St-stark has requested y-your p-presence outside the Great Hall." she stuttered, her ample cleavage heaving. Tybolt looked her up and down, not bothering to hide his interest.

"Immediately?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Y-yes, milord. At once." she said, her long-lashed blue eyes flicking up to Tybolt's face. When she saw he was looking at her with unveiled lust she blushed an even deeper shade of red, a red that matched the fiery colour of her hair.

Tybolt sighed in frustration. "Very well." he said, his annoyance evident. Then, as if an idea had come into his head, he grinned again. "Will you escort me to him my lady? I might get lost on the way there," he said, doing his best to appear innocent.

"O-o-of course milord. F-follow me." she blustered, walking away with her head bowed slightly, exposing the soft white skin of her neck. The sight only inflamed Tybolt's arousal and, coupled with the feeling of power that Tybolt got from her demureness and deference to him, he decided upon a course of action. As they walked past an alcove, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into it, pressing her against the wall and letting his eyes roam across her breasts.

"Milord?!" the girl asked, her voice shocked and yet full of anticipation, almost as if she had been waiting for him to do this.

"I must have you." Tybolt said, his voice heavy with desire. He lowered his hand to her dress, pulling it up and placing his hand upon her thigh, rubbing his thumb gently over her soft skin, eliciting a deep moan from her.

"Milord, we shouldn't! You should not dishonour yours-!" she began, before being cut off as Tybolt pressed his lips to hers, slipping his tongue inside her mouth, causing her to moan once again.

"We should." Tybolt said as he pulled away from her. "Do you consent?" he asked. She nodded quickly after hesitating but a moment, the adoration in her eyes obvious. Tybolt briefly joined their mouths once more, before pulling away again. "Go to my rooms tonight. Wait there until I return from the feast. If you do, I will give you a night you will never forget." he whispered into her ear before walking out of the alcove and continuing on his way to the Great Hall, a smirk on his handsome face.

…

Tybolt sat at the table below the high lords, with all their other children. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen all sat together at the table, though Joffrey had deemed all but Sansa to be unworthy of his attention and sat next to her, boasting of what were no doubt fake victories. Robb made idle conversation with Myrcella who appeared to be constantly blushing, Arya, Bran and Rickon laughed and joked together and Tommen sat quietly, looking quite overwhelmed. Tybolt sat silently, sipping periodically from his wine, casting Sansa furtive glances every once in a while and feeling his anger surface every time he saw Sansa making moon-eyes at Joffrey.

"Stupid little blond prick. Sansa thinks the world of him, with his tales of how strong he is and what a good swordsman he is. I could beat him with my eyes closed. Skinny prick." Tybolt fumed silently. His soundless anger was disturbed by a small scream and then a laugh from the middle of the hall which, when Tybolt looked to see the origin of the sound, was revealed to be the King grabbing the arse of a serving wench. Shaking his head in mild disgust at the impropriety of the King in public, Tybolt turned his attention to the rest of the room, taking in the sights and smells of the feast, both pleasant and unpleasant.

The banners of the King and his company were hung from the huge rafters of the roof alongside those of the Starks, there were candles in every candle-holder, torches in every bracket, braziers with burning hot coals in every corner and tables laden with so much food that they buckled slightly in the middle. The crispy carcasses of great big boars and deer and oxen dripping with juices and covered with flavoursome herbs and spices lay upon the tables, bowls with soups from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, platters of roasted vegetables – big onions, long carrots, round potatoes- all dripping with goose fat and covered with seasoning, long trenchers filled with slices of brown and white bread and filled to the brim with thick brown gravy all lay next to the meat, and hundreds upon hundreds of barrels of ale and wine and mead sat on the floor, piled above the men, streams of their contents dripping out from taps mistakenly left open in drunken hazes. The smell of the food wafted through the air, accompanied by the sound of minstrels strumming their lyres and singing, with their sweet voices, songs of great victories and heroes of ages past; the feast was an assault on the senses and gave Tybolt a heady sense of euphoria. He had been to many feasts but none came even close to comparing with this one.

The smell of the food had made Tybolt hungrier than he had realised and so, taking food from every dish, he began to eat as Lady Catelyn took her younger children off to bed. As Tybolt looked over at the children, laughing as he watched Arya's struggles, he caught Catelyn's eye; her eyes seemed to emanate such a hate that Tybolt shrank back slightly in shock. She threw a glance to someone above Tybolt who knew already, without having to turn and look, that she was looking at her husband. Turning anyway, Tybolt saw Eddard nod almost imperceptibly at her before she left the hall; Eddard turned his eyes on Tybolt, the same cold emotionless eyes that he had used so often before, though never on Tybolt – Eddard had only ever looked at people in such a way when he was looking at those who had tried to do his family harm.

"I must speak to Tyrion. His letter must have something to do with this. That and the raven Catelyn received from King's Landing." Tybolt mused as he turned back to his plate. Having suddenly lost his appetite, he stood quickly and turned to Eddard.

"If you would excuse me Lord Stark, I am going to get some air." he said with a brief forced smile. Eddard nodded and said nothing, allowing Tybolt to leave.

…

Having left the heated confines of the Great Hall, the icy air that hit him and the sudden change in temperature caused Tybolt to have a sneezing fit. It was because of this that he did not notice the man approaching him.

"Tybolt!" the man half-slurred, half-shouted, clearly tipsy. At the voice, Tybolt whipped around, and when he laid eyes upon the speaker he gave an exclamation of joy.

"Brother!" he exclaimed, gathering Tyrion into a crushing hug and spinning around.

"Oof!" his brother exhaled loudly. ""Put me down! Put me down, damn you!" Tyrion grunted as best he could with the little air he had left in his lungs.

Tybolt laughed as he acquiesced and lowered his brother. Despite himself, Tybolt laughed too. "It is good to see you brother." Tyrion said when they had finally stopped laughing. "How are you?" he continued.

"I am well. What about you?" Tybolt replied.

"Well enough as things go." Tyrion hiccuped. "It has been too long since we last saw each other. I hope that my letters brought you some joy in this place, as majestic as it is." he continued.

"Aye, they did. Though Winterfell does have its charms, cold though they are." Tybolt said with a smile. "In truth, brother, I did wish to speak to you about something else." he began.

"Oh brother can't it wait until tomorrow?" Tyrion moaned. "I'm nearly drunk, I dont wish to speak of serious matters this evening. Please?" Tyrion begged.

Tybolt hesitated a moment before remembering the girl waiting for him in his rooms. "Fine. But we must speak on the morrow." he said. "Though I think, going by your current state, we'll have to wait until the afternoon." he continued with a knowing grin.

Tyrion laughed and began to walk off. "'Til the morrow then brother." he said with a wink.

"Goodnight Tyrion. Try not to drink too much!" Tybolt replied. Tyrion snorted and walked back into the Great Hall.

Deciding to go back to his chambers, Tybolt smiled at his brother's antics and began the walk back. As he passed the doors to the Great Hall, he caught a glimpse of Sansa laughing at something Joffrey had said. He felt a pang in his heart as he realised that she would never do that for him, that she would never love him as she loved Joffrey now, that he would not make her heart beat faster as she did his.

"Forget her. She can never be yours. Not any more." Tybolt thought with a sad sigh. His thoughts turned to what awaited him upstairs. Deciding that he would forget his sorrows with her body, he climbed the staircase to his chambers as quickly as propriety would allow him with ever increasing ardour as his thoughts turned to more carnal desires. Upon reaching his rooms, he opened the door and shut it quickly behind him. Looking around, he saw the serving girl stand up quickly having been waiting for him on the edge of his bed.

Upon seeing him enter the room, the girl's breathing had quickened in anticipation of what was going to happen. Her pupils dilated and darkened with desire, a blush crept onto her face and she tugged her dress down slightly, increasing the amount of cleavage that Tybolt could see.

"Milord." she said nervously, though the desire was clear in her voice.

"My lady. I am afraid I don't know your name." Tybolt said as he moved further into his room and began to undress himself.

"Katherine milord." she said. "If it please you that is, milord. You are welcome to call me what you want." she added hastily, casting her eyes down in submission. Tybolt grinned.

"Oh it pleases me very much my lady."

The girl blushed again at his words, but remained where she was until Tybolt had finished undressing and stood only in his britches. He smiled again as he saw her eyes widen and moved towards her, putting his arms around her and leaning down to press his lips to hers. She moaned as Tybolt sought entrance to her mouth with his tongue and squealed as she felt his hand grab her breast, palming it through her dress.

Tybolt pulled away and turned her so that he could unlace the back of her dress, biting her neck gently and sucking on the soft skin as he did so, eliciting yet another groan from her. His hands deftly undid the string and tugged her dress down below her breasts, letting it pool onto the floor. He took her creamy breasts in each hand and kneaded them softly, groaning into her neck as he felt himself harden at the sound of her moans. Tybolt turned her back around to face him and begun to trail kisses down her body, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn, sucking gently on them until she whimpered in response. He kissed her down until her mound and then switched to her thighs, kissing up each one, leaving for the next when he came tantalizingly close to her slit.

"Please milord! Lick me there!" she begged.

Tybolt grinned wolfishly and did as he asked. She cried out in pleasure as he licked her, lapping up her juices until she came in ecstasy, quivering beneath his touch. He stood and pushed her back onto the bed, unlacing his britches and stepping out of them. Katherine gasped when she saw the size and hardness of his manhood and raised a hand to her mouth in shock.

"M-milord! Are you sure you will fit?" she gasped.

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" he grinned back. "Come here." he commanded. She obeyed him immediately, crawling slowly forward on his bed, swaying her wide hips seductively. Tybolt growled with arousal and, when she reached him, took her head in his hands. "Take me in your mouth." he said, his voice wavering slightly. Katherine looked uncertain but did as she was told and engulfed his member with her soft lips. Tybolt groaned loudly with pleasure as she began to move her mouth up and down his length, gagging slightly when it reached the back of her throat but continued despite it. She went faster and faster, bringing Tybolt ever closer to his release, but just before he reached it, Tybolt pulled out and pushed her back onto the bed.

Crawling forward on top of her, he guided himself to her entrance and slid his whole length into her in one smooth stroke, gasping at the pleasure of her tightness and causing her to cry out in pain as he broke her maidenhead.

"Well that was unexpected. I didn't think she was a maiden. At least not when she showed such skill with her mouth. No matter." he thought, a salacious smile spreading across his face. "She's not any more."

Tybolt stayed still inside her as she adjusted to his member, pressing kisses to her mouth and neck and breasts as he waited, getting small whimpers from her as he did so.

"Is this pain gone?" he asked after a minute.

"Yes milord." she nodded demurely. He gave her a small smile and began to rock his hips, thrusting inside her, the sheer ecstasy of her tightness making him breathless. As he continued to grind his hips against hers, he reached his hand down, looking for the small nub that gave girls so much pleasure. After a few seconds she gave a loud cry, causing Tybolt to grin in triumph.

"Found it."

He rubbed her there, bringing forth gasps and moans and whimpers in ever increasing number until she crested her wave of pleasure and came undone around him, her walls clenching and unclenching as she thrashed around underneath him. Having brought her to climax twice now, Tybolt turned his mind to his own pleasure and flipped her round onto her stomach, sliding himself back into her and beginning to pump away hard. He pulled her back to meet him as he thrust forward, pounding against her rear and reaching around her to grab her large, creamy breasts, kneading them in his hands, grunting into her hair as he began to reach his peak. A few more thrusts and he came to his release, spilling his seed inside her, groaning with pleasure and panting from the exertion.

"Sansa" he whispered into the girl's hair, so quiet that he could barely hear it himself, but he knew that he had said it; it was too quiet for Katherine to hear. He rolled off her and lay panting on his back, basking in the ecstasy of the afterglow of his coupling. Katherine looked just as sated, yet she looked at him nervously.

"Should I stay milord?" she asked quietly, ever submissive.

Tybolt raised his head and looked at her for a brief moment, before gesturing to her. "Come here. You can stay the night." he said, still panting. Her eyes lit up, the love she had for him evident in her eyes, and she snuggled close to him, resting her head upon his chest and sighed contentedly. Tybolt absentmindedly played with her hair as he began to drift off into his slumber, but he had one thought before he succumbed to his weariness.

"If only Katherine were Sansa."

Lone wolf... : Not going to happen, sorry. Tybolt was raised by Ned so at least some of his honour has rubbed off on him (we'll see just how much later on), and Cersei still loves Jaime so I highly doubt she would have anything but familial love for him – though that is quite warped with the Lannisters ;)

Lord of Carrion: Thank you! That's what I'm aiming for. After all, Tyrion didn't kill Joanna in childbirth, she died of a fever, so I assume that he would have far less hatred towards him.

Haoshoku Dragon: Thanks!

DeusImperator92: No problem, sorry it took so long.

LupaTiz: Yeah I know sorry, I hope this makes up for it!

Kaioo: , Cersei still married Robert. Did I write that she didn't?! Please tell me if I did, I can't seem to see anywhere that says she didn't.

2. I agree, Tywin did have a point, though the Red Wedding was still a giant middle finger from GRRM.

3. Thank you. Me too.

Hi guys, me again, thanks so much for the reviews, favourites and follows for the last chapter, it means a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, its almost twice the length of the last one, though I was a bit unsure as to whether I should have the last scene in it, but it's in now so in it will stay. Should something come from the tryst? You know, something bastard-y?

I don't know, leave a comment telling me what you thought of the chapter and your thoughts on my question and please, please, please tell me if there are any spelling mistakes, I hate reading things that have spelling mistakes. Also, tell me if I write in anyone that shouldn't be there, I might get a bit confused.

I probably won't do any work on this for a week because I go back to school tomorrow and the first week is always busy. Besides, I need to do more work on A True Baratheon, I've neglected it for too long.

I know this was more of a filler chapter, but it was necessary. Kudos to anyone who can guess what Tybolt's gift will be. Thanks for reading!