Yandere Toons x Reader: An Anthology of Headcanons and Scenarios

Cersei, Jaime & Tyrion Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Ramsay (PS. Fool's Mistake)

"Ah," greeted the Lannister, pulling the bottle towards his chest. "The talk of the Keep has finally arrived." The man tapped his finger against the glass as he studied your reclusive attire before approaching you in deliberate steps. "If we're to share a relative, we may as well share a cup of wine." Tyrion lifted the bottle and lightly shook it, but he soon turned and sauntered to a faraway door.

The interior of his spacious chamber was dressed in deep shades of red and gold and had a balcony draped in silk sheets that billowed in a soft wind. He slotted the bottle next to a gold-plated flagon and shed a hefty sum of wine into two goblets on the table in front of you, one of which you seemed to either drink or pour out somewhere when he was not looking. Tyrion clasped the other goblet and selected a lavish chair with red cushions.

"So, your cousin, my cousin, marriage -- intriguing business, that." He glanced at you after each sip and peered around his room, coming to foresee your extended silence and deciding to fill it himself. "I know if my sister has her way, you're to become a Lannister. The first sorcerer in the family, it would seem." He tilted his head at this as if reserving his doubts.

Tyrion's gaze lingered for several moments in anticipation of a response, only for him to turn away - eyes drifting across the pristine stonework of the floor - and reach for the flagon when you regaled him with silence. "You don't seem very keen on this conversation." Pouring an excess of the sour liquid into his goblet, his tone adopted a slow caution as he took care not to spill a single drop.

"Lucky for us," he declared, "fine wine makes the lips loose." A quick sip evolved into a hum of delight, and the Lannister spun around while gulping the intoxicating taste of grapes. "I shall do all the drinking." With the flagon still clasped in his hand, he plopped onto the golden chair and crossed his legs atop the armrest. "Allow me to amuse you with my tales of woe, sorcerer."

The supply of wine sloshing in his goblet had dwindled to a thick glaze at the bottom of the ornate cup. Tyrion dumped a healthy amount of the flagon into his drink with the comfort and agility of an experienced drinker, and his voice carried none of the slurred vowels that one would expect from a man who drank liquor as if it were his mother's milk.

As he rested his voice to swallow a mouthful of wine and wipe the red stain from his lips with the back of his sleeve, the Lannister eyed you with a careful fondness. "I must say, few of my companions-" he spoke the word as if lacking faith in its accuracy "-have lasted this long." Despite the sincerity of his confession, a spot of humour leaked into his smile. "Most start asking for gold."

He tipped the spout of the flagon onto the rim of the goblet without looking down, only to cease his tale at the lack of weight pulling his hand towards his lap. "Hmph," muttered the Lannister as he took a moment to fix the goblet with a look of disappointment. "It appears I've exhausted our supply."

The man waved off the lull in spirits with a weary frown and lowered the flagon and goblet to his side. "No matter, I'll simply send for a chambermaid to fetch more." As he hopped to the ground with a clunk of his boots, you stood without obvious provocation and approached in steps so light that Tyrion wondered if you were real or a drunken hallucination come to frighten him.

Uncertainty crept into the Lannister's sunken gaze when you placed your hand over the top of the goblet. It hovered there just long enough for his eyes to flicker downwards and spot the fabric of a glove retracting into the many folds of your cloak, but his attention was then drawn to the sudden heft of the cup. Wine, as red as the surface of Blackwater Bay on an early morning, filled the glass and lapped at the edges after Tyrion jiggled it in surprise.