Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines (Completed)

Khal Drogo X Lannister!Reader

The day that you heard you would be marrying Khal Drogo, you were being pampered. Laying face down on the hard mattress of your bed as one of your many maids ran her hands up and down your spine, working out any knots that could have formed from all of the stress you may have suffered. And then, the knock came. You knew who was at the door before anyone said anything. Your Father, Lord Tywin Lannister, probably ready to lecture you once more on how you must be wed soon, and to tell you just how spoilt you were.

"Bring me my robe," you murmured, moving to sit up and stretching out your limbs one at a time. Your maid hurried over to you, helping you slip your arms into the sleeves and leaving you to tie the strings yourself.

"Will that be all, M'Lady?" she asked. She was always eager, one of your favourite maids in the castle and a sweet girl truly. But she was a maid, and it was not for Ladies to be friends with maids.

You nodded slightly. "Leave me; let my father in as you go," you muttered, straightening up and walking slowly over to your desk, letting your fingers flip through the sheets of paper that lay there.

"Y/N," your father spoke up from behind you, his footsteps echoing as he moved across the room to take one of the wooden chairs by the window. "You kept me waiting; you know how I hate that," he scolded and you let out a light chuckle.

"If you enjoyed it, it would be no fun," you teased, causing him to scowl at you. You were never his favourite child, though you weren't sure why. You were certainly desirable, something required of highborn women. You had a regular sized torso and long, slender limbs, unlike your younger brother, Tyrion. And you were downright delightful to be around, or so you were told by your suitors.

"Don't push me, Y/N," he started, his voice cold and clear in the warm room. You finally turned to face him, brushing your hair over your shoulder with one hand. The room remained silent as you stared at one another, a stalemate that seemed to settle between you whenever you spoke.

"Why did you come to my chambers? Is there something I can help you with?" you asked him, busying yourself at your desk once more. You hated having to change the subject of conversation with him, you knew how powerful it would make him feel to have made you so uncomfortable. He prided himself on it.

"Come, can't a father just visit his daughter out of good natured affection?" he asked and you snorted with laughter.

"Yes," you answered with a smile. "A normal father could, you on the other hand, would not visit me unless you needed something," you added and his smile fell from his face, replaced with an all seeing glare which followed you as you moved from your desk to the trunk that sat at the foot of your bed.

"You wound me," he told you, his teeth gritted.

"That was my intention," you replied, not moving to look at him as you riffled through your dresses.

"I came with news from your sister," he spoke again and you froze. Cersei was a rough diamond, it was true, but she was a magnificent older sister to you. When you were young she would braid your hair and treat you like a Princess, and now she was a Queen. "She wrote of the Targaryen girl, it is said she will marry a Dothraki Khal, and we can't have that now can we," he told you and your brows furrowed.

"What will they do about it?" you asked, turning to sit on top of the trunk, facing your father.

"Find him a more suitable wife; we can't risk her gaining power," he told you, a small smile dancing on his lips. "I told her that you would be more than willing," he added and you shot up from your seated position.

"How could you?" you cried, storming across the room to slam a hand down on the table beside him. "I swear, by the old Gods and the new, that if you sell me off to some savage to be his whore, I will murder you myself," you growled at him as you towered over his body.