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Seven Wives of Tyrion Lannister

Summary:

Seven Different AU's were Tyrion was married to different ladies of Westeros.

Notes:

So... For good or bad, Tyrion Lannister is my favorite character. Anyway, I have been writing alot about lots of different things and work has been crazy, so I wanted to write something I enjoyed. Voila- Tyrion AU's.

So this has been done before.. Seven different wives - Seven different AUs. Only thing in common is at some point he meets Sansa.

In research for this, Tywin made a marriage offer to Delena's father after she gave birth to Edric Storm. In canon, her father refused.

Chapter 1: The Father

Chapter Text

“Lena. Call me Lena. All my family calls me Lena.”

That is what Tyrion’s betrothed said to him the day he was introduced to her. He did not know what to expect from his bride-to-be when she came to Casterly Rock. He found her to be a pretty girl, with blonde streaks in her brown hair and bright eyes, as blue as the sea. Delena Florent was curvy in her hips, but thin around her waist. There were many things that Tyrion liked about his betrothed, but the thing Tyrion liked the most about her was the intelligence behind her eyes.

He could tell that she tried to hide it. She hid it behind a flirtatious smile and a gentle laugh. Tossing her hair, she would smile demurely behind half-lidded long lashes. However, he could see her looking around at Casterly Rock, critically, counting tiles, windows, looking at the horses in the yard, as well as the children. When her father spoke, Delena would listen and do what was asked immediately and without question like a good daughter, but Tyrion could see the flash of rebellion or the tightness in her lips, if she disagreed.

When she had come from the Reach, Tyrion was to show her around Casterly Rock. He had shown her the Great Hall, the menagerie with the empty cages, the small gardens, the godswood, the view of the sea on the ramparts, and the Hall of Heroes. She had been polite and attentive, acting interested and delighted when appropriate. She never made mention of his height, and even would go out of her way to make sure he felt comfortable, sitting when she could so that they might look into each others faces.

At the end of the tour, however, Tyrion could see boredom in her eyes and a sadness. Delena’s father, Colin Florent, had only agreed to this match because Delena had been deflowered in her cousin’s wedding bed with King Robert. Tywin Lannister had made an offer of marriage after she had had the King’s bastard and her father, Colin Florent, had agreed to it because she has no options. The Demon Monkey of Casterly Rock was not the best of marriage options. She was sixteen and a mother already. A ruined woman with no prospects having given birth to a bastard, the King’s bastard, but still a bastard.

He could tell that she was dutiful and he was certain she had been told to be polite and in no way be offensive. Tyrion knew, that bringing up her sadness at her child being taken from her or her boredom at having to marry a child and a dwarf, would both be considered resoundingly impolite. However, he wanted her to be happy. When she had learned that the empty cages had once held lions, he had witnessed her smile. When she had looked over the ramparts at the Sunset Sea, he had seen it again. Tyrion Lannister had promised himself he would see his wife’s smile frequently, as it was his intention to be the best husband.

At thirteen and with their marriage in less than a week, Tyrion did not want to bring up any conversation that might be awkward or uncomfortable. He had heard she had only been able to stay with her son for a fortnight, before they sent him to Storm’s End to be raised by his Uncle, Renly Baratheon. Tyrion wondered if she missed the child. She had named him Edric, Edric Storm. Delena came to Casterly Rock about six months after the birth of her son. She was only seventeen. He looked up at her, “ My Lady.., Lena, I could take you to my favorite room.”

Smiling the warmest smile, shaking off whatever sad thoughts she might have, she nodded and Tyrion took her to the library. When she had seen the library, her smile had grown even wider. “Do you like to read?” Tyrion had asked.

“Tyrion, I love to read.”

Delena had brought quite a party to attend the wedding. House Florent was one of the most well-connected houses in the Reach. There were Tarlys, Hightowers, Cranes, and Redwynes were all in attendance the day they were wed. Most of the notable houses of the Westerlands also were in attendance. Of course Queen Cersei and his brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, came. King Robert Baratheon did not come and Tyrion believed that his sister had made sure he had stayed in King’s Landing. Queen Cersei, his sister and Robert’s wife, would not allow the King to visit with the baby. Cersei definitely did not want to give Robert the idea he might bed Delena again in this marriage bed, like he had once before.

That night, Tyrion laid in his bed, while the household at Casterly Rock prepared for the wedding at the end of the week. He had known that his father had loved his mother deeply, though he could not even imagine his father loving anyone. Uncle Kevan seemed to love his Aunt in a caring way, but Aunt Dorna was very devout and not prone to smile. Once when he had been younger, he had stumbled into his Uncle Gerion’s room. He had seen a woman sleeping on his chest, naked. Red with embarrassment, Tyrion had left before he had woken either of the pair. He had thought of it often, the closeness, the intimacy, and hoped his wife and him might be that close some day.

They were married in the sept at the Rock and thought how pretty she was in red. During the wedding feast, Cersei had said something snide about the size of her ears, noting she had grown her hair out to hide their size. Jaime said something about Delena being a pretty girl and knowing why Robert had bedded her. Cersei stopped being so smug. Instead, she raged silently for the rest of the evening.

During the bedding ceremony, Tyrion was dropped unceremoniously naked by a group of women, saying the dirtiest things he had ever heard. Delena was already there, on the bed, blushing and uncomfortable. As he walked toward the bed, he noticed she was looking at his cock, which was half hard from all the women, tearing his clothes off.

Slightly drunk, Tyrion tried to get to the covers, to hide his nakedness. Her face was flushed and she spoke, “I did not think it would be so big.”
Tyrion kissed her gently, bumping his forehead against hers. She rubbed her head gently. Laughing, Delena had asked him, “Have you done this before?”

“No..”

She spoke softly, “I have only once and I had drunk too much wine. ”

Tyrion’s thoughts flashed to his wife, drunk and a virgin, being pushed onto her cousin’s marriage bed by the King, “Perhaps we could have some wine.”

“I don’t think wine will help. Maybe more kisses.”

She was trying to be helpful, make it less awkward and uncomfortable. Tyrion thought she was beautiful, but he couldn’t find the words. When he was done, he lay on top of her breathless and she seemed slightly uncomfortable. He lay down next to her.

“Perhaps, you might allow me to hold you.”

He had opened his arms and she had laid upon his chest. “Am I hurting you?” She had asked timidly.

“No. this is perfect.

If their marriage bed wasn’t entirely comfortable, Delena was fertile and obedient, getting pregnant soon after the wedding. Tywin clapped him on the back. Tyrion felt relief that he did have to bed her. He liked sleeping with his wife, but he felt that she should enjoy it as much as he. It never seemed to satisfy her and though she was affable and willing, Tyrion often found himself wishing she would be as breathless as he.

Instead, Tyrion walked with her in the gardens, red with her curled beside him, and watched her grow round and sweet. Lena, he would call her her and often he would find her her in the library, reading. He liked how much she knew and how clever she was. Occasionally, he would kiss her and she seemed to like his kisses. The first time the baby kicked, she was reading next to him. “Would you like to feel him?”

“Yes.”

Gently, she pressed his hand against her stomach. Underneath, he could feel his child kick against his hand. At fourteen, Tyrion became a father when she had Tybalt. He held his son against his chest, feeling protective and gentle at the same time. His father had come to the nursery, looking at his grandson, Tybalt. Tywin spoke, approvingly, “Your son is well made and has the Lannister look to him.”

It was the closest thing his father had ever said to him that sounded like praise.

That night, he had climbed beside his wife and held her against him. She had snuggled close to him. Tyrion had many things he had wanted to say to her, but he found he did not know where to start. Instead, he spoke, “Did you it is said that Lann the Clever was a Florent bastard?”

“It is why we understand each other so well..” She said, half-asleep.

When she was well enough to travel, they went to the Reach to show the heir to Casterly Rock to all her relations. At Brightwater Keep, her father held a tourney for the birth of his grandson. Tyrion watched how she looked at the knights, as if she was a starry-eyed girl. If Lena ever dreamed of knights and warriors, she was kind enough to never say a word to her husband. But he saw the way she looked at them and he knew she would have loved to be held by a tall, brave knight, straight and strong. He wondered if that is why she did not enjoy their bed because he was a twisted malformed creature, a demon monkey.

When he returned home, he mustered the courage to ask the only man he knew he could trust in matters of the heart, Uncle Gerion. He found him in the library, pouring over maps of Old Valyria. Tyrion spoke, “Uncle Gerion, I need to ask you a question. I do not know who else I could ask but I fear there is something missing in my marriage bed. Perhaps, I do not have the skill or it is because I am a dwarf.. I feel awkward, uncomfortable.”

Uncle Gerion looked into his nephew’s eyes. “How old are you, Tyrion?”

“I will be fifteen in a fortnight.”
“Fifteen and already a father. Do you know how old your father was when he was married? Your father was twenty-one. Your Uncle Kevan was twenty- seven and Tyg was almost thirty. Do you know why? Because men make a terrible mess out of love and ladies and boys are even worse at it. We get better at it with age, more considerate. Your father should have waited before he wed you.

Tyrion started regretting this conversation and felt as if he did not understand what his Uncle was saying at all.

Gerion looked at his nephew. “Do you kiss her Tyrion?”

“Yes. She likes to kiss me.”

“I mean, really kiss her. Look in her eyes and kiss her like she is the most beautiful woman in the world. Kiss her like you are wildly in love with her... Do you love her, Tyrion?”

 

“Delena is a good wife. She is smart and true and never makes me feel like I am dwarf. She gave me Tybalt and helps father host other Houses when the bannermen visit. She is never mean.”

“No, that isn’t what I am saying. Take her and look in her eyes and kiss her like she is the lady from all those tales of old you have read. Kiss her soft and slow. Kiss her all over her body and see what she likes.”

“How will I know she likes it?”

“Her body will tell you. Listen to it. Marriage beds aren’t all about your cock. Remember Tyrion, love isn’t something that happens. It is something that we work at.. Work at it and you will see what can happen.”

That night, Tyrion took his Uncle’s advice.

“Look at me,” he said when he kissed her. When they were finished, she was breathless.

A year later, she gave birth to Landon, their second son. After that, Tyrion and Delena fell into a happy routine of married life. She spent her time being a patron of several chapters of Septas and Silent Sisters. Sometimes, she would have troupes of actors come to Casterly Rock or persuade Tyrion to go to Lannisport and see the new playhouse. Delena loved actors, almost as much as she loved books. Tyrion would tease his wife that he half expected her to run away and join a troupe of actors in Essos. Laughing, she would say, “I would miss you and the children.”

When Edric was six, Tyrion sailed with her to Storm’s End to visit with her son. When Edric was eight, she asked if the boy could stay a few months in the year. The King agreed to it and Tywin allowed it. After all, Delena had two sons and she was obedient and would often help as the Lady of Casterly Rock, both with entertaining and running the household. Tyrion knew that there were other motives, as well, but what he could not figure out. Edric was a good boy, albeit spoiled. However, Tyrion knew his nephew, Joffrey, and compared to Joffrey, Edric behaved like a prince.

When Tyrion was twenty three, Delena died of a fever, after their daughter, Genevieve, was born. He stayed with her, holding her hand long after the Maester told him she was dead. Laying with his head on their hands, he had stayed there crying softly in the sheets. His sweet wife had given him the best gift of all. She had made him a father. His sons, Tybalt and Landon, tall and strong, golden like Jaime but like smart and clever like him, and her. Tyrion thought it was unfortunate she was not born a man she would have made an excellent Maester.

Tyrion would have thought she was a silly girl, a starry-eyed slut, who spread her legs for the King, in her cousin’s wedding bed. Instead, she was a virgin, who had drunk too much, and had no knowledge of the world or love outside her stories. She was so much more than one of the girls who had one of the King’s many bastards. She was his wife and he had loved her.

 

Years later, he is sent by his father to be Joffrey's Hand, while he fights in the Wars. His eldest, Tybalt comes to his rooms on his arrival. The boy has been at the Red Keep since last year, first as the King’s squire. Now that the King is dead, he is just another member of the Lannister clan in the Red Keep. Tybalt is tall and golden, looking more like Jaime than anyone he has ever seen. In fact, he has seen the way Cersei eyes the boy and will send him back to the Rock as soon as it is safe.

Tybalt seems visibly shaken, “Father, you must help her. Joffrey is holding a loaded crossbow at Lady Sansa. I think he means to use it.”

Tyrion motions to Bronn and they head to the throne room. When they arrive there, Lady Sansa is holding the shreds of her dress and being beaten by one of the Kingsguard.

While Tyrion reminded his nephew of his duties as King, he asked for someone to cover Lady Sansa. In a bold and gallant sweep, Tybalt takes his Lannister red cloak off for her to cover herself.

As Tyrion walks toward the crying girl, he extends his hand. She takes it, looking in his eyes. For a second, he is looking in the blue eyes of his dead wife, the pretty color and the intelligence. Lady Sansa is calculating all her options and weighing her options. For a second, she looks at Tybalt and he sees a flash of hope.

He speaks to her, gently, “Come, Lady Sansa”

Tyrion offered her his hand and helped her up.

As he walks out of the throne room, he sees his son looking to her, concerned, but Lady Sansa is looking forward toward her destination. Only Tyrion sees the tightness in her jaw and knows that as defiance.

Chapter 2: The Warrior

Summary:

Brienne and Tyrion AU

Notes:

There are some really interesting takes on this pairing .. this is my take.

Chapter Text

They were married in the ruined shell of the sept at Winterfell, while Kingslayer screamed, dying of a stomach wound and burns over half of his body. Jaime Lannister had spoken to both of them and when he was done, they went to the sept to be wed.

After they said their vows, Brienne knelt and Tyrion wrapped her with his cloak. He pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek and she went back to his brother’s bedside but Jaime had grown silent. Brienne had walked to her room, not the suite that Lady Sansa had prepared for them, but the small room with that mattress that could barely hold her. If she noticed Tyrion silently following behind, she gave no sign or did not seek to comfort him. Instead, she shut the door to her room.

Tyrion did not know how to console her, so he and Pod outside her chamber, waiting for her. After some time, he took the squire back to his bridal suite and drank all the wine they could find, toasting to Jaime Lannister and winning an unwinnable war.

Tyrion did not know how to approach her or what to say. As days turned to weeks, they moved back to King’s Landing to rebuild with the Seven Kingdoms under a new Targaryen Age. Lady Brienne Lannister came to him after a fortnight in King’s Landing, “I would like permission to go to Tarth. My father is getting older and has been ill. He would like to see me.”

Touching her flat stomach, she spoke softly, “I have told him that I am with child and he would like to see his grandchild.”

Tyrion had looked at her, “I would not keep you from your father. When your time comes closer, I will come to Tarth to help you and to see the child. It is my first..”

Brienne had looked at him. It may have been the first time she really looked at him in the eyes. She smiled, “Of course.. I would not keep you from the child. It is both our first.”

“If it is a boy, he will be the next Lord of Casterly Rock.”

Brienne smiled at him and Tyrion smiled back.

As she sailed back to Tarth, he remembered back to his wedding day. Tyrion had heard what his brother had said to this woman. He remembered how intimate and private it felt to watch her hold his brother’s hand as the room smelled of blood and death. “My brother is like you; he is not what he appears. He is much more, a much bigger man than me. My children never had any kind of father, but Tyrion was their favorite uncle. Over me, they chose him every time. What name is Hill or Storm for the babe? I would like one of my children to have Lannister as their name. Tyrion will be a good husband. He has been married twice so he has had much practice. He will be an excellent father. He is Lord of Casterly Rock and that makes him the richest man in Westeros. He will keep both of you safe. Do this for me.”

Brienne stood up and walked to the corner. Tyrion approached the bed cautiously but took his brother’s hand. Jaime had spoken to him, closing his eyes against the pain, “Marry her for me. I have no right to ask this of you, but for once, I would like to make something good. I have no right to ask you of it, yet I do. I love her and would do it myself....”

“Out of love, I do it for you. “

As Hand of the King and Lord of Casterly Rock, there were many things to do and months passed quickly. Sometimes he wondered if Jaime had married him to Brienne as revenge. Jaime had saddled him with this beast of a woman for the rest of his life and she would disdain him until they died. He did not think he would ever want to bed her, never mind that she might kill him if he tried. Being a warrior, she was in good physical condition and might live until she was ninety, hating him until he died.

True to his word, Tyrion Lannister made the journey to Tarth to see the birth of his first child, even if it was his brother’s. He remembered once making a joke to Cersei that she opened her legs for Jaime, she should open her legs for him. Now, he was in a similar situation with Brienne and wished he had never made the joke.

With no trouble, on a sweet warm spring day, the baby came. A girl, golden-haired, green-eyed, looking like Jaime’s twin, and the sweetest thing Tyrion had ever seen. When Tyrion held her, he thought this is Myrcella was back from the dead. Tyrion thought this is my chance to make a family who will love me, regardless of my size or my character.

Brienne looked up at him, weary and exhausted.

“We have a daughter, my lady.” he said to his wife.

“Brienne, my lord.”

“Tyrion.. Brienne. What shall we name this beautiful creature?”

Brienne seemed uncomfortable with the baby. “I did not expect a girl. She seems too small. I am afraid I might drop her.”

 

"That is why you are safe in bed. Take her. I expected a daughter. We should name her Janna.”

It was not a common name, but she was not a common baby. Tyrion found himself drawn to her nursery during the day and at night. He found he could not stop smelling her soft blonde head or the feel of her warm against his chest. He did not mind when she cried. He was an excellent burper and if that did not work, he would recite passages from The Lives of Four Kings and she would fall back to sleep almost immediately.

After the birth of Janna, he asked Brienne if she would return to King’s Landing with him. He could not bear to not be with the child and Brienne went without a fight. Tyrion was busy trying to rebuild the Seven Kingdoms and undo the damage his sister had wrought. However, no matter how busy he was, he made time for Jana during the day. Though he paid little attention to his wife, he sat beside her at feasts and holidays, watching folks snicker and make jokes Tyrion did not care if she wore dresses or full suits of armor. She found a niche with King Aegon, often talking about defenses and training soldiers. When they sat beside each other, they would speak about politics, household needs, potential alliances, defense of the city, and the like, but he never approached her bedroom and she never invited him.

Three months after Janna’s birth, he came to his chambers after working late into the night to find her in his room, sleeping on his bed. “What might I do for you Brienne? I did not expect to see you. Is Jana well?”

Brienne sat up, almost surprised at finding herself sleeping on his covers. Quickly, she recovered herself and spoke, “She is. Tyrion, I am here to do my duty as your wife, as the Lady of Casterly Rock.”

Tyrion noticed her broken nose and what appeared to be a bite mark from someone on her cheek. In the firelight, she had no shape to speak of and might be two times his height. His wife had freckles which reminded him of his first wife and blue eyes that were the prettiest he had ever seen.

“What duty?” Tyrion felt his mouth go dry as he spoke. Hatred he could understand, even expect, but duty was unexpected and disarmed him.

“I have never been one for duty, my lady. Now, would not be the time to start being dutiful. Do not come here out of duty. Brienne, I never cared for an unwilling partner. I prefer someone who wants me, whether for coin or company. I have no taste for unwilling.”

“You are my husband..”

“I would still like you willing. It has nothing to do with your appearance. After all, Jaime loved you. I am certain there are books that could be filled with your charms. I am certain there is a great deal to love.”

She looked hurt by his words and started to get off his bed. He spoke again, “Don’t leave just yet. Tell me of your day. Tell me what you do all day.”

Brienne looked at him as if he had grown three heads, as he crawled into the bed beside her. “You want me to tell you of my day..”

“Yes. That would be much more pleasant than duty bound sex. Come now. Get under the covers and we will talk about the harvest and the events of the day.”

Slowly, Brienne complied with his request. She climbed in beside him and started telling him about her day. They started meeting for dinner in his chambers when they weren’t needed somewhere else. Afterward, they would climb in Tyrion’s bed and talk of the day. Tyrion liked waking next to her but he did not feel desire for her. However, he did find himself growing fond of her.

When Jana was almost a year, there was a great feast at Casterly Rock for Podrick Payne’s wedding. Podrick was the steward at Casterly Rock and recently, Tyrion had granted him Castamere. Podrick had made a good match with a pretty Lannister from Lannisport, a poorer cousin trying to win favor with the new Lord of Casterly Rock. The girl seemed genuinely happy to marry Pod.

Lady Brienne had started drinking wine early in the day. He could tell she was nervous to see the bannermen in the Westerlands and feel their eyes and judgement upon her. In fact, she even wore a crimson dress and put Jana in one to match. Tyrion tried to reassure her but he knew how it felt to be found wanting in the eyes of the lords. As the feast grew late, they started a drinking game, “I can out drink you Tyrion. I am bigger and a soldier as well. I am sturdy.”

Tyrion liked the teasing, “Be that as it may, Brienne. I have outdrank Dothrakis, Wildlings, sellswords. I am a professional at these games.”

However, when Brienne started to become affected by the wine, he laughing told her that she had won, and outdrank the Imp. As they went to the Lord’s chambers, she stumbled once or twice.

She sat in a chair and Tyrion helped untie all the laces on her dress. Tyrion spoke, “Alright, I think we have gotten it loose enough. Try now and see if you can extricate yourself from it.”

In her underdress, she sat back down in the chair, pushing the velvet dress away from her. Tyrion touched her cheek, the scarred one, “You did wonderful tonight. The Lords approved, especially when you told your tales of how you saved Lady Sansa Stark and fought with Jaime.”

Tyrion walked to put more fire in the fireplace and he heard her speak.

“I know I am ugly. Even the Imp, my own husband, known for his lechery won’t touch me.”

Wiping his hands on his pants, he looked at them to see if they were dirty before he put them on her thighs. Smiling, he looked at her, critically, “How drunk are you?”

When she spoke, her voice seemed clear, “I am a little, but I know what I am asking.”

“Do you?”

She nodded, meeting his eyes. Tyrion pushed closer to her, “Brienne, open your legs. You will need to open your legs.”

She did and he stepped closer, between her legs, pressed against her. Tyrion saw the fear and the excitement in her face and then, she took his face and kissed him. They spent a fortnight at Casterly Rock. At the end of the fortnight, Brienne received a letter that her father had died and she was the Lady of Tarth.

For the sheer vastness of their holdings and the demanding nature of his position at Court, Tyrion lived away from Brienne. Across the continent or just a sea, they would see each other once a year for a moon and another son would follow. They had four sons; Landon, Jason, Tybalt, and Gwayne. All straight and strong like Jaime. All golden-haired, some with blue eyes, some with green. All fair of face and true and tall.
None was as fair as their daughter, Jana. Even at ten, she was said to be fairer than either Daenerys or Cersei. She never once picked up a sword and her mother did not know what to do with her so as soon as she was five, she spent most of her time with her father in King’s Landing or at the Rock.

On Jana’s Eleventh name day, Tyrion received word that Brienne had died fighting pirates off the coast of Tarth. He hadn’t known she was going to lead the men, but it did not surprise him that she had. Tyrion had collected his children to come to their mother’s funeral.

Aegon VI had a royal funeral for her in the new Sept of the Mother built for the dead Queen and to replace the Sept of Baelor. All the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms came to pay their respects to the Maid of Tarth, Brienne Tarth Lannister. However, later that night, when the children were in bed, friends from the War for the Dawn gathered to drink and celebrate a warrior of old, who had fallen. In his rooms, Jon, Davos, Pod, Arya, and Sansa told stories of people long dead, laughing and drinking Arbor Red, celebrating the lives of their fallen dead.

 

As the night grew late, slowly they left until only Sansa was left. She had married some Northern lord, willing to change his name to Stark, and had a son and a daughter. Sansa had liked the safety and simplicity of the North. Two years ago, her husband had died from falling from a horse.

Tyrion spoke, “I wonder what Jaime thought of the past years..”

“I am sure he would have approved. Look at your family. She was happy. Now, they are together, happy.”

“I don’t really know if she was ever really happy. I wasn’t him. I am a poor copy.”

“I don’t think she was looking to fall in love, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t care for you. She was happy.”

Tyrion realized how close Sansa was when she put her hand over his. She smelled like spices and leather and lemons, which made him smile. Sansa kissed him softly. Tyrion felt a fire deep inside flare up; he has not felt this feeling in a long, long time.

“My Lady...” he whispered.

“Sansa... Tyrion, my name is Sansa.”

Chapter 3: The Smith

Notes:

This is not a very happy story but they cant all be happy.

Chapter Text

In order for Lord Hightower to consent to marry his youngest, most beautiful daughter to a demon monkey, Lord Tywin had to make Tyrion, his heir to Casterly Rock. After all, Lynesse was as golden as any of the lions and as beautiful as any princess, and Lord Hightower wanted to be certain she would be Lady of Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin weighed his options and he resigned himself to formally making Tyrion his heir. After all, an alliance with House Hightower, though not what it once had been, was no small thing.

At sixteen, Tyrion was painfully aware how little he offered to the young highborn ladies of Westeros. Even with all the gold underneath Casterly Rock and all the power his father wielded, he was a small and undesirable thing. He knew how many fathers of eligible ladies his father had propositioned to wed Tyrion and how many had refused. Each refusal reminded him of how small he was and perhaps made him smaller and more undesirable.

What few knew is that Tyrion had been married once before. Though his father had told him it was not a true marriage because Lord Tywin Lannister had not consented to it, Tyrion knew in his heart it was as real and true a marriage as any his father might agree to. His wife’s name had been Tysha and they had lived like small folk on the edge of the sea, poor and happy. For a whole fortnight, Tyrion and Tysha had spent in marital bliss, until his father had found out.

When Tyrion married his second wife, Lynesse was seventeen and the prettiest girl he had ever seen, prettier than Cersei. She had been presented at the Sept at Casterly Rock in a lavender dress from Myr made by three seamstresses, working an entire year. At the wedding feast, the musicians continued to play the Bear and the Maiden Fair and he wondered if it was because he was saddled with him or because she was sleeping with Jorah Mormont.

At least, that was the rumor. The rumor was that Lynesse had traded her maidenhead to recently widowed Jorah Mormont, after a tourney where he had named Lynesse the Queen of Love and Beauty. When Lord Hightower had heard, he had married her off to the Imp of Casterly Rock. After all, there would be no way Bear Island would be able to offer her the comfort she was used to or was even a match worthy of her name.

Tyrion did not mind too much that his new wife was not a maiden or even loved another. After all, he had fallen in love impulsively once. He remembered his father’s anger and what he had done to Tysha. In fact, there was still a small piece of his heart that loved Tysha and he would not fault his wife for a crime he was guilty of.

The night they wed, she kissed him sweetly and made him feel whole and straight like other men. Tyrion hoped he would always be as happy as he was this night.

In the first year, he tried to do small sweet things that would make her laugh or smile. He had fresh flowers put in her chambers and sent for fruit from the Reach, even in winter. He would sent for musicians and fire eaters for her amusement. He had thought they were happy, as happy as any high born couple was.

Lynesse’s hair was golden and her hands like cream. Tyrion could spend hours in her bed, but the children did not come. She could dance, sing, read and speak in Valyrian, but children would not come. After the first year, Tyrion could sense everyone’s disappointment that there were no children and he tried more, but children did not come.

From the beginning, Tyrion had seen the way her eyes wandered at bigger men, stronger men, handsome men. He had not blamed her or gotten angry. After all, he was a small and stunted thing compared to the men she would look longingly at. However, as much as she looked, Lynesse never turned him away from her chambers. Dutiful like a wife and wanton like a whore, he would find her willing in bed.

When the children still did not come, things became more difficult. The truth of the matter was Lynesse was as barren as she was beautiful.

At first, his father pushed him to bed her more. Instead, Tyrion stopped sleeping with her all together. After a feast, he had her intoxicated, kissing a hedge knight in the yard. By then, he had heard the rumors that she was bedding other men. The hedge knight had fled with the threat Tyrion had given him. Lynesse had snarled at him, as he had the guards escort her to bed. “If you could have given me a child, I would not have to stray, but even your seed is twisted and won't take root.”

Over the next year, the rumors were rampant of who his wife was taking to bed. One, even spoke of Lynesse bedding King Robert, when they visited King’s Landing. Sometimes, Tyrion wondered why his father allowed her such freedom. He knew it before he even heard the rumors. Lynesses was sleeping with his father, Tywin Lannister.

Of course, Tywin was not the kind of man that Lynesse truly found attractive. She liked big, burly men, tall men, strong men with swords, men who didn’t think and talk so much. Lynesse found one in the smith at Casterly Rock. Tyrion had found her with the smith first.

One night, exceedingly drunk, he had stumbled into the smith’s shop and found his wife and a young burly blonde smith in a heated embrace. The boy was terrified but Tyrion only laughed and departed quickly. There was a sweet satisfaction at knowing his wife was screwing a smith behind his father’s back.

Tyrion had heard Tywin had caught them, as the smith fucked her like she was a dog bent over his anvil. Tyrion never asked but the smith’s head was on a pike at Casterly Rock and his wife was locked in her room with one of Tywin’s personal men to keep guard. As Tyrion looked at the smith’s rotting head, he found himself not laughing at all. Instead, all he could think of was Tysha’s terrified face.

It was the memory of Tysha’s face that made him visit with his wife. He had expected tears and apologies. Instead, there was only rancor and rage.

She raged at him. Her face was still beautiful and so cruel, “You are a monster. I never loved you. Every time you touched me, my flesh crawled and I would do anything to get you to finish. I would whisper sweet lies in your monster ears to get you to finish. Do you think I was speaking the truth? Stupid monster. I slept with your father the third night I was here. The Great Tywin Lannister and he could not make me pregnant. I even slept with your brother, Jaime. You, Lannisters are all rotten and foul. Nothing here will ever thrive.”

Tyrion left as quickly as he came. As he walked through the halls of Casterly Rock, he thought on her words. He was almost certain Jaime was a lie but he promised himself he would not visit again with his wife.

A fortnight later, Lynesse Hightower Lannister threw herself from her window.

When they gathered her body off the rocks, the Maester asked if He would like to see his wife's body before they gave her to the Silent Sisters to prepare her bones. Tyrion had seen Tysha after his father's wrath at his disobedience. He had heard the tale of the wreck of Elias body and what happened to her Targaryen babies He did not need to see his wife’s body to confirm that his father and his father's will had killed her. She could not be just put aside, if Tywin had shared her with his son. She was a woman and might speak of it.

However, he did see her. Holding her lovely cold hand in his, he had said his goodbyes. The rocks had down quite a bit of damage, but Tyrion knew they had not left fingerprints on her throat.

So, years later, when his father called him to King's Landing to be Hand in his place, he did his duty, like a good son. When his father told him he would marry his third wife, Lady Sansa Stark, all of fourteen, daughter of a traitor, sister to a traitor, he did his duty. After all, those who defied Tywin Lannister ended up dead.

The night of their wedding, before he consumed too much wine, his father pulled him aside, “Do your duty, Tyrion. Casterly Rock needs an heir. If you get her with child, a boy, you get both the North and the West.”

As Tyrion drank during the feast, he wondered what a traitor's daughter body might look after his father's wrath. As he continued to drink, Tyrion looked at Sansa, his wife. She was a pretty girl and this was a good way to insult her, marry her to the Demon Monkey. She was smart and sad and sweet. King’s Landing would stomp out the sweetness for sure, if the Lannisters didn’t do it first.

When he escorted her to their bedroom, he realizes that he is not just slightly drunk, he was very drunk. When they arrive in their room, Sansa gulps down wine, trying to calm her nerves and take the pain away of being married to him.

When she started to undress, he thought to himself he should tell her to stop. He should be gallant and tell her that he would never sleep with her, until she wanted to sleep with him. She was beautiful and sweet and deserved so much more than him.

Tyrion remembered his father words, “Bed the girl and get her with child.”

Sansa’s hands were fumbling, shaking. He crossed the room and touched her wrist and felt her pulse beating furiously. He closed his eyes and imagined for a moment that it was beating so rapidly because of desire and not fear. He saw Tysha crying and clutching her ruined dress and remembered how he focused on the silver coins in her fingers. He remembered how broken Lynesse looked when they unwrapped her and the fingerprints she had on her throat.He thought of Lynesse and her ugly words “Your father came to me and said if you could not make me with child he would do it for you. What is one Lannister cock to another?”

He had heard the words all day in his head. Lynesse’s words were what had inspired him to drink so much. Sansa had such a long neck and a pretty head; he hoped she would keep it.

“Let me help you,” he said and and he helped his new wife undress.

He took off his coat and climbed into bed. He watched her and wished he was the kind of man who would tell her to stop. He thought of Tysha and the guards and of Lynesse her beautiful body broken on the rocks by the sea. He helped her untie her underdress and pushed it off her. He blew out the candles. In the darkness as he kissed her, he hoped he was not tasting her tears.

“I must, Sansa. It will be better soon. I can be a good husband, but we must do this to keep you safe.”

She did not answer him.

He hoped that she would get pregnant soon, perhaps this night. She was young. Her mother had five children all healthy. If she got pregnant quickly, she would not have tolerate his kisses for too many nights.

Chapter 4: The Stranger

Chapter Text

Jaime brought his new wife to him at Casterly Rock. Tyrion did not know what to think of young Jeyne Westerling Stark. She was pretty, slender with a head of chestnut curls and brown eyes that sparkled when the light hit them. However, the fine blue dress she had was torn on the sleeves and skirts. Jaime had told Tyrion that she had torn it on the trip to display her grief at her husband’s murder. Her face was clean and her hair brushed and braided but her eyes were red from crying and she did not smile

She seemed like death itself, the girl with the ripped dress, the Stranger herself. ”Good luck,” his brother whispered to him. “Good luck with that one.”

Tywin Lannister had been at Casterly Rock to appraise the girl and be a witness at the wedding and then he was returning to King’s Landing. After all, he was the Hand of the King. Tyrion wondered if he was a reward to the Westerlings for their part in the Red Wedding or if he was a further punishment to the girl who wished to be Queen in the North. Tywin had wanted Tyrion to wed Sansa Stark but she had slipped from his grasp, disappearing one night in King’s Landing. She had reappeared later in Highgarden and wedded Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden.

 

The day Tywin had received the news of the Tyrell Stark wedding, Tyrion could tell from his father’s mood that he was furious. Immediately, he had sent Tyrion back to the Rock, as if it was his fault that the marriage had happened. Tyrion had been in Casterly Rock for several moons when his father had sent word that he had found him a wife and he would be returning to see them wed. Tyrion had wondered who his father had found to wed him to, but was certain, she would be unpleasant.

 

He did not find Jeyne unpleasant. He found her sad, tragic, and silently raging. She would not smile at him but he did not think she hated him because he was a dwarf. He didn’t even think she hated him for being his father’s son or a Lannister. She despised him because he was not Robb Stark. She despised everyone because she would never see him again, the man she loved. No one would ever bring back his arms to hold her, his smile, his kiss. Everyone and everything angered her because none of it was him and it never would be. He was dead and gone, even his bones were lost.

Tyrion thought she looked like sorrow and rage and that he liked Jeyne Westerling Stark a great deal.

 

He remembered being young once and storming for years around Casterly Rock, in a melancholy haze of anger and wine, after learning Tysha was a whore and had never loved him. He remembered how his world had darkened and felt empty and hollow as if all joy was gone. He remembered the anger that had simmered beneath his skin and the despair. Tyrion had wondered if Jeyne had tricked Robb, as his sister or her mother might, if she had manipulated the brave Young Wolf, but it appeared she had been manipulated.

His father had called Tyrion into his solar. “I am marrying you to the girl, but do not bed her for at least a year. Control your lechery and your perverse nature. We do not need to have anyone believe she had Robb Stark’s child. Give it a year. Listen to me, Tyrion. Promise me, or I will give her to the Silent Sisters.”

“So, I am to be her punishment for falling in love?”

“Be whatever you want, but do not bed her. Give me your word.”

“I promise, Father. I won’t bed her. I do not think she is interested in all that.”

The ceremony was a small affair, simple quick. They did not invite many guests. Lady Sybell and her brother, Rolph Spicer, the new Lord of Castamere, came but Jeyne seemed completely uninterested in her family or the dress of crimson that she wore. At the feast, she was polite and even tried to smile once at him, as he poured wine in her glass. There was no bedding and Jeyne had a retinue of guards so she would not escape.

On the next day, Tywin Lannister left with Jaime. By afternoon, Jeyne Lannister bid her mother and uncle leave Casterly Rock. ”Do not overstay your welcome. Our hospitality is lean when it comes to Castamere. After all, we are Lannisters.”

Tyrion thought to intervene. After all, he did not think he cared if they stayed an entire month. Casterly Rock was big enough he would not have to see them often. However, he thought if Jeyne did not want her family’s company, he would be her ally in this and he said nothing. He was glad to see their horses and men leave the gate of Casterly Rock.

 

Jeyne seemed so much older than she was. Sixteen was an old age when you were already a widow. He would find her looking out windows. Tywin had ordered that all the windows she have access to be locked and she had two guards with her all the time. Tyrion would see her the first fortnight of their marriage, flitting about from window to window, sad and sullen.

However, she came to breakfast and dinner and ate with him at the table. She would curtsy and share his dinner, drinking too much wine and looking far away. Sometimes, she would comment on the weather or the gardens. It would always be a superficial comment, never about politics, never about war, never about the Seven Kingdoms. Sometimes, he thought she was mute, and then she would talk about tulips, or lace, or the color of his shirt, or the sun, or the fog rolling off the shore.

One morning, he found her curled up in a window ledge, staring at the sea. He thought to himself that she looks like the first Jeyne Westerling who was married to a different sort of monster. Tyrion imagined her looking out over Blackwater Bay instead of the Sunset Sea, contemplating throwing herself from the window if she could break the lock. However, the first Jeyne was tasked with having an heir and this one was tasked with not having an heir.

Tyrion thought to himself that he could be an ally to her. He could help her and wondered if she would let him help her.

“My lady, there are many things we could do that might make you smile.”

She had been in Riverrun under siege and then under lock and key, constantly watched, in case she would run away. Jeyne spoke carefully, looking at him, “What would those things be, my lord?”

“We could ride. We could walk along the shore or in the gardens. We could read. The library is well stocked. We could sail. My father has a man who could take us out.”

“I would like the locks taken off my windows…”

Tyrion watched her and spoke carefully, “I think they are worried you will escape... Permanently.”

“I will not. I hold with the Faith of the Seven and that is a sin. I will not burn in the Seven Hells because of this. Robb is waiting for me and I will see him at the end of all of this. I would not jeopardize that... ”

“Jeyne... We should be friends. After all, we are here together, each in our own prison. Of course, yours is worse. I have been in this cage my whole life. It is new to you.”

She stood up and took his hand, looking him directly in the eye, “May I have some wine, my Lord? Perhaps, we could eat and talk and see if we could be friends. After all, I am so sick of guards. They do not talk much and they are no company.”

Smiling, he took her arm and walked with her to his parlor. The windows were open and the sea breeze blew in warm with the heat of the day. There was a pitcher of Arbor Red and cheese and fruit as well. She sat in a chair at the table, smiling with the wind. Tyrion poured the rich red liquid into an empty glass beside her. Jeyne drank the entire glass and he poured her another.

She spoke to him and he noticed the way she did not try to look away from him.“My lord, I am not new to this. I have spent my life trying to be free of my mother and her machinations. My cage was not as fine as yours, but it sat on the same Sunset Sea. “

 

They drank wine. Tyrion and his wife talked about the Sunset Sea and soon the conversation changed and he realized that Jeyne might be a good friend to him in time.

The next day he had someone take the locks off the windows that Jeyne had access to. He did not think she would leave. After all, she had nowhere to go.

They began to spend time together. He learned about her childhood at the Crag and how her brother Raynald was not found after the Red Wedding and was probably dead. Tyrion learned that her grandmother had come from Essos and had taught her to read tea leaves and palms. Tyrion showed her all the drains and cisterns of Casterly Rock, as well as a tour of the Hall of Heroes and all the history of the Lannisters. He showed her the shore and they collected shells like they were children.

A week later, there was a raging storm off the coast, with crashing waves and the rumbling of thunder. Flashes of lightning kept illuminating the sky. Tyrion was in bed, smiling, knowing how much Jeyne loved storms, and wondering if she was enjoying herself. He heard the knock and she was in his room before he could answer. She was in her nightdress with her long hair loose around her shoulders and a candle. Tyrion heard his voice crack, as the lightning flashed, “Are you well?"

Jeyne smiled, the first time she smiled at him, “Tyrion, I thought we could enjoy the storm. May I climb in?”

He gestured for her to come in his bed. He thought to himself about his father’s words and the promise he made. For a moment, Tyrion thought to tell her that he would not touch her but thought that might make her think that that was exactly what he was planning. Instead, he said nothing

Jeyne opened the windows and they watched the lightning shatter the sky.

 

Tyrion woke to her on her side of the bed, sleeping soundly. The next night she came to his room to sleep. He did not touch her and she did not reach for him. For a fortnight, they slept like septas or sisters, peaceful and content on their own side.

Then, it had been her name day. She had not told him but she had gotten a wild look in her eyes. Tyrion and she had taken the small boat out in the bay with his father’s men. Even though it was growing cold, it had been the last good day of summer, as if to celebrate her birth. Tyrion and Jeyne had swum, and sat in the sun, and drank iced wine. When they had returned to Casterly Rock, Tyrion had collapsed on his side of the bed, exhausted, sun-soaked, and happy.

He had thought she was sleeping when he felt her hand under his nightshirt. In the growing purple of twilight, Tyrion thought he saw a smile in her eyes and on her lips. He heard her whisper as she leaned against his ear, “Tyrion.. please, I need you. Tyrion. Tyrion. My lion.”

And he thought to himself that it would be one way he could hurt his father. Tyrion kissed her neck, hearing his father’s warning,” Do not bed her for at least a year.”

However, Jeyne called his name as he slipped his hands beneath her shift. He kisses her and it quiets his father’s voice and all his warnings.

Jeyne woke in the morning embarrassed by her nakedness as if he was a stranger. Tyrion saw the regret in her eyes and a flash of sorrow. For the first time, Jeyne looked at him critically and he felt small and dwarfish and ugly in her gaze.

“Perhaps, I should leave,” he had said his voice laden with emotion.

Tyrion turned to leave his bed when he felt her hand on his arm, “Tyrion, you don’t have to leave. We are married and you are my only friend. I apologize for my behavior. I was startled... That is all, I want you to stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am very certain that I want you to stay.”

Without her mother and her tea, she got pregnant from that night. When she came to him to tell him that she was late, Tyrion felt a smile break his face, even as he heard his father’s warning ringing in his ears. Jeyne had hugged him and he had thought that maybe everything would be fine. After all, they had each other and they had this child.

When he had written to tell his father of the upcoming Lannister babe, his father had written back that Tyrion was a fool and a lecherous idiot.

Almost immediately, rumors sprung up that the baby was Robb Stark’s, the heir to Winterfell. Her mother came to Casterly Rock but Jeyne would not open the gates for her. Instead, she had grabbed Tyrion’s hand and begged him to send her away before she hurt this baby. Tyrion sent Sybell Spicer away without opening the gates.

The rumors grew as the child grew inside his wife. She would receive messages, snuck into the keep by loyal men to the Starks, written simply, The North Remembers or The King in the North. Tyrion would make jokes about the messages, laugh them off as crackpots. However, he could see the anxiety and the anguish in her eyes. Sometimes, he wondered if she had realized how painful this would be for all of them and if she had, would she have reached for him at all that night? There was an even darker thought that she had planned this and done it purposefully to keep Robb alive, even if it would hurt Tyrion, hurt her, and this child.

 

Months later, when she was heavy with child and close to delivery, Jeyne had taken his hand in hers “Promise me you will love the baby. You will take care of him I fear we may have been wrong to do this. I fear that we should have waited over a year as everyone had wanted.”

“I am glad for the child. I am glad for you. I am glad we did not wait. Do not act like you will not be here to help raise him.” However, Tyrion noticed the cup of tea leaves on the table and wondered if she had been reading their futures. Maybe, she had seen something. He pushed it out of his head.

 

On the night of autumn sea storm, Tyrion woke to Jeyne’s cries. By daylight, Tyrion held his son, Raynald Lannister as he watched Jeyne pass on to the place where a dark red-headed boy with blue eyes waited for her. As he rocked his son, he noticed how it seemed as if Jeyne was at rest, peaceful.

 

His father did not live to see his grandson or hold him. Tyrion got a message that his father and uncle Kevan were murdered, as was Grand Maester Pycelle. Briefly, he wondered if his sister needed him but she did not ask for him. Tyrion was kept busy with his son and the Westerlands over the next years. There was so much war and death and a Targaryen crossed the ocean and an army of the dead broke through the Wall. Through all of it, Tyrion had a commitment to keep his small dark-haired son safe.

After the wars and the new Targaryen sitting on the ruined Iron Throne, Lady Sansa Stark Tyrell sends word that she would like to visit. She uses the lie that she is looking for marriage alliances for her daughter, Alienor Tyrell. Tyrion knows that maybe some of the truth, but there is another reason Lady Sansa comes to Casterly Rock. She comes to lay eyes on see his son, Raynald, the first Lannister in generations to have brown hair, reddish in the light with streaks of blonde. Raynald’s eyes were hazel, though sometimes blue. More often, they were green.

She was lovely, the widow of Willas Tyrell, Lady of Highgarden. She was busy collecting her family from across Westeros, a crippled brother who had died in the War, a wounded sister, and a once-brother, now-cousin, recently crowned King. Tyrion had found enjoyed watching her eat her lamb for lunch. He had known she would come when he had heard how the Lady of Highgarden was invested in making sure House Stark thrived.

Tyrion spoke to her, “I am glad you have come. It has been some time since I saw you as a girl in King's Landing. It is good to see you doing so well. You are always welcome to Casterly Rock.”

“I have wanted to come for some time. My daughter Alienor is almost the same age as your son. It would be good to marry the two and heal the rift that your sister caused among our Houses.”

“I would need a great many more children to heal all the damage Cersei did with a marriage alliance. But, we are old friends, Lady Sansa. Tell me the truth, you have come to lay eyes on my son and see if he is your brother’s. He is playing in the gardens. Come.”

Lightly she takes his hand. Tyrion led her to the gardens. He had not remarried after Jeyne and he had found he had missed the feel of a woman against his arm. When they see his boy, his hair is dark, streaked with reddish blonde streaks. Tyrion feels Sana’s breath rush out. Tyrion calls to his son and when Raynald turns, Sansa sees he has the look of a Lannister, not a Tully or a Stark. He is beautiful, his son, even at seven. He is cut of Lannister gold, beautiful and straight, almost as tall as his father.

Sansa smiled and any disappointment she may have had, vanished from her face, “How nice to meet you, Raynald?”

 

That night after dinner, she accompanied him to his study to have conversations. He poured them some wine and spoke, “I have something for you.”

Underneath his books, he pulled out a small slip of paper. It could fit in Sansa’s hand and Tyrion was certain that was how Jeyne had saved it from her mother. It was a pencil and paper portrait of Robb Stark, the King in the North, a bit of red, a bit of blue, but mostly black on parchment. Sansa looked at the picture and tears spilled over her cheeks.

Tyrion spoke, handing her his handkerchief. “Jeyne had ridden north to beg Robb to take her. She had had a bad feeling and she wanted to be near him. Riding hard and alone, she had caught up with him, crying. The only way she left him was a man from Bear Island drew this for her. You should have heard her tell the story. It took him less than ten minutes. I think he did a great job. It is a fair likeness from what I remember.”

Sansa smiled, “You kept this after Jeyne died.”

“It meant a great deal to my wife. I suppose if I loved someone as much as she loved Robb… I could not bear to throw it out. She was devoted to him.”

“Yes, I guess they were lucky to have been in love, to have other than an arranged marriage. Tyrion, it must have been difficult for you to know that she still loved him as much.”

“Jeyne was a remarkable girl, who was smart, loyal, and wildly in love.“

He smiled, “One more thing before we dissolve into tears. This came to me in my father’s collection. Recently, I have been going through my father’s papers and I found it.”

She opened the box. There was a simple burnished bronze crown, slightly tarnished with age.

“Robb's crown,” she said.

Tyrion continued, “Yes, I am sure it is highly treasonous to have it, especially with Raynald already rumored to be a Stark. But I suppose our King is your cousin and he might make allowances for you to have such a sentimental thing.”

Sansa smiled at him, speaking as she held the box in her lap, wiping her eyes. “We have lost so much since we met in Winterfell a decade ago.”

“Yes, we have..” he said, “Our families.”

Sansa spoke, “Our youth.”

Laughing, Tyrion took Sansa’s hand, “You more beautiful Lady Tyrell than when you were in King’s Landing all those years ago.”

“Perhaps, we have gained some things as well.”

“Well, we both have excellent children.”

“Yes, we do. Let us hope they never go to King’s Landing in all their days. May they live to a very old age and meet the Stranger in bed.”

Sansa took his hand and they laughed.

Chapter 5: The Maiden

Notes:

Alright- so this is dedicated to -Filia Romana-- who wanted to see Tyrion/ Shireen fic. Suprisingly, there was not this tag so I tagged it- I guess this is a rare pairing.

The Maiden chapter was going to be Daenerys and I went back and forth over a month deciding. In the end, Shireen won. So, I think there are lots of connections to the dance of the dragons and this chapter specifically. The more I read it the more I see it. It was not my intention but I must have been thinking of it in the background.

I have always written Shireen to be innocent, bookish, loyal and true and this story is not very different, however what if someone tapped into her wild Baratheon/Targaryen side and helped her brush off some of her childhood trauma and her sadness. Actually, as I wrote this I kept thinking of the line from the books where Maester Cressen thinks she was the saddest child he knew. Wouldn't it have been nice to see her survive and shake off some of the sadness?

This chapter is long- once I started writing I could not stop.

So, according to the show and books, Shireen is the same age as Arya. In the show, Arya is seventeen. So that is how I arrived at that age. Just so it is not too creepy..

Also, I really have no idea how long Jon was on Dragonstone from the time he arrived until they left for the Dragonpit. Time seemed really wonky in Season 7.. So for the sake of the story let's say it was a little bit less than 3 months. I totally could be wrong.

Chapter Text

Tyrion Lannister is lying in Queen Rhaenys’ carved dragon bed with his new wife at Dragonstone. These were the second biggest rooms of Dragonstone, coming after Aegon's own, a fitting set of rooms for the Queen’s cousin and heir and her husband, Hand of the Queen.

It is dawn but the fire is still burning in the large fireplace. There are candles on the table and they are sputtering to their end, drowning in an overflowing sea of wax. On the table are books and their clothes are tossed onto the floor. His wife is sleeping, her hand curled underneath her pillow. The ruined side of her face is hidden and he thinks she is beautiful. Of course, Tyrion thinks she is beautiful when he sees her scar, as well.

Shireen is lucky. She is at least lovely when her scar is hidden. Tyrion cannot hide his deformity. Everyone sees it. Everyone knows. Of course, if his wife was awake, she would say that her ruined face makes her a pariah, whereas her husband is just a demon monkey. She would laugh lovingly, “You told me everyone loves a dwarf. People kill their children who have greyscale.”

They have already discussed each of their scars. Tyrion was a firm believer of talking openly about what everyone was whispering about, so he had brought up her ruined cheek early in their relationship. She had been ashamed, embarrassed, and looked away but he had reminded her to never be ashamed. If things went awry, she would sit on the Iron Throne. “Do not let them shame you or hurt you by what you are. Wear it like armor. It is what protects you.”

He is fascinated by the colors of her hair in the light. There are strands of brown, blonde, black and he thinks there is some silver. Her hair is straight and thick, but she wears it in braids and he does not get to look at it down, unless they are in bed. He likes her hair. He enjoys having the freedom to run his fingers through it. More than the freedom to do as he wants, he loves the fact she wants him to do it. Sometimes in bed, she will beg him to touch her or lick her or kiss her. "Please. Please... Please.." as she scratches at him, to hurry him. He loves that rushed, breathless, pleading his wife makes.

Perhaps he has been ruined by his sobriety, It has led to feelings, rushing to the surface of his skin, unclouded and free. It has led to vulnerability. After losing the Queen's fleet, he had slowed his drinking to sharpen his wits. It has increased his emotions and his desire to be loved. Last night, the urge to drink was great, but he did not. He needs his wits more now. Tomorrow, they sail for King’s Landing to face his sister and brother in the Dragonpit. To show Cersei the true enemy. Of course, she could just kill them before she even lets them speak.

He has been married for less than three moons. He had not intended to marry. His Queen had liked the idea. It had made sense to her. It was a way to bring her closer to Storm’s End, as well as Jon Snow. The King in the North seemed devoted to the Princess Shireen as if she was his sister. If Daenerys could keep Shireen Baratheon close, perhaps, Jon Snow might stay close as well.

 

Princess Shireen came to Dragonstone as an envoy with Jon Snow, King in the North and his Hand, The Onion Knight, Ser Davos Seaworth. She is the last living member of House Baratheon, direct line from King Robert, his only legitimate heir that still breathes.

 

At first, he had thought she was Sansa. From the spyglass, they had seen a woman, young, slim, in a cloak. As they landed, Tyrion had seen her hair was too dark and the woman was too short, too slight to be Sansa Stark.

When they had landed in the rowboat, Tyrion had wondered who the girl in blue was. Jon Snow had extended his hand to help her out of the boat. When she had turned her head, he had seen the grayscale and known immediately. After all, when Stannis had sent letters to all the Great Lords saying Cersei’s children were not Robert’s but bastards, he had been the one to start the rumor that she was not Stannis’ child but the unfortunate union of Selyse Florent and Patchface, a slow-witted fool.

When Jon had introduced her, he called her Queen Shireen. Tyrion had looked at Jon as they took his weapons and wondered what they were playing at and half smiled. They had received word for Varys that the Knights of the Vale were at Winterfell, as were a small group of Stormlanders, known as the Queen’s Men.

Tyrion knew that it was a small group of men Shireen Baratheon had at her disposal. Perhaps, Cersei had alienated most of the Stormlanders by now with her treatment of the Tyrells, the burning of the Sept of Baelor, and Tommen’s suicide. Tyrion knew there must have been several Houses who had talked about Cersei having no right to the throne but Stannis’ girl, Shireen. However, Shireen had been in the North for several years and had not come South to claim even Storm’s End. What is the blood right if you do not come and claim it? Perhaps, Princess Shireen was coming South to claim her right to the Iron Throne.

Less than an hour later, Tyrion was shocked when Shireen knelt in the Great Hall, pledging her fealty to Daenerys, “My Queen, I am known as Princess Shireen of House Baratheon. My father was Stannis, who was your cousin as well as brother to King Robert, First of His Name. I am the only living Baratheon and heir to Storm’s End. I am your cousin by blood. House Baratheon has been loyal since the start of Aegon’s Conquest. I beg your mercy for what hurt my House has done, I pledge my loyalty to your House and your cause. After all, we are a family and women alone and I have sore missed family. We should have no dissent between us. I pledge what troops I can muster, through the Stormlands have borne the brunt of the many wars that have plagued these lands. The Stormlanders will fight for me when I call my banners. I pledge you my men, my swords, my lands, my honor, and my life.”

Daenerys called for Jon Snow, the King in the North, to bend the knee, but he would not. Instead, he told a tale of White Walkers and his need to mine for dragonglass at Dragonstone.

Later that night, Daenerys ate dinner with the Lady Shireen Baratheon, a princess no more, but Lady of Storm’s End. After dinner, she called Tyrion to her chambers.

He could tell Daenerys was irritated that Jon had not pledged his loyalty to her claim. Tyrion tried to soothe her. “You have the Reach, Dorne, and now the Stormlands. House Baratheon is no small victory. It will not be lost on the Lords and Houses. It strengthens your claim.”

She sipped wine and looked at the Painted Table. “I have been thinking of what you have said about my legacy, about an heir.”

Tyrion sipped his lemon water and wondered what the Dragon Queen would say.

“I have decided to make my heir, my cousin, Shireen Baratheon. She has Targaryen blood and is my closest relative. She has been raised in Westeros and knows its customs. She has been raised to rule. She is just turned seventeen, a maiden. She is delightful and told me so many tales about this place, Dragonstone. Did you know she was raised here? In some ways, I know she is a stranger and I should be wary but I feel like I have found a sister, family when I least expected to find it.”

Tyrion drained his glass, wishing it was wine, “She will be a good heir, but it would be best if we married her to someone loyal to your cause. It’s too bad that Theon was misused. Maybe, the King in the North would marry her and we could use her loyalty to sway him.”

Daenerys looked at him, “I would not marry her to Jon Snow… There is a man of a Great House, who is loyal to me. You could marry her. You have told me that political marriages are of the utmost importance. You could marry Shireen Baratheon.”

Tyrion looked at her “Have you seen her, one side of her face is a scar of stone or scales? I imagined I would marry someone but not someone so grotesque. Surely, I deserve better.”

As soon as he said it, he felt the weight of his words and shame from what it meant. He had been certain that he would marry for political reasons, an arrangement. He didn’t mind some silly girl or even a homely one but he hadn’t expected her to have such a deformity. After all, he was Lord of Casterly Rock and the Queen’s Hand. He deserved better.

Daenerys looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “I could command you to but I think you should do it willingly. You are right. You will have Casterly Rock, even though you are a known Kinslayer and your father’s men might kill you. My Lord Hand, you have your own faults. I have talked to my cousin and told her of my plan to make her my heir. I have told her that I speak to you of my idea of joining your two Great Houses. She says her lords might not be too pleased but that she will have you if it is my wish.”

Didn't he deserve better? Didn't he deserve better than this ugly girl?

Instead of arguing, he looked at the Dragon Queen. “My Queen, I will meet with the girl and see if she means to see it through. If she consents, I do not see a problem with the matter.”

As he walked out of the room, Tyrion thought how the lords would call them Stone Face and Demon Monkey. What a pair they would make! Surely, he would be able to convince Shireen to not go along with this.

 

The next day he found her in the gardens. She was reading a book. Shireen looked up and smiled at him, shutting the book. In the darkness of the pines, she was pretty. Her eyes were a deep dark blue that sparkled, even in the darkness of the overgrown garden. She was barely seventeen with a ruined face and a broken heart, orphaned and despised. So of course, his Queen thought it would be good to saddle this tragic figure to Tyrion.

“What are you reading?” he asked as he sat on the bench beside her.

“The Dance of the Dragons. Do you know it, my lord? I used to read this often as a child here. It is full of treachery and excitement and war and sadness.”

“I have read it. Where did you find it?”

“In the library here. At Dragonstone, we have the best library. I will tell you a secret. We have an almost complete copy of Barth’s Unnatural History here. I found it today. I guess Baelor must have never come here to see it burned and Viserys did not listen to his nephew. I found it this morning. I would have brought it out but I thought something so dear should be left in the library. I could show you if you would like to see.”

Tyrion spoke, “I would very much like to see it but I think we should speak first. My lady, do you know what they are asking of you?”

“I do, Lord Tyrion. I will marry you and be your lady wife. It is pleasing to my Queen and cousin and will show that I am loyal despite my family’s actions. If the Queen does not have children, our children will be the heirs to the Iron Throne. Our first son will be Lord of Casterly Rock. Our second child will be Lord of Storm's End. Of course, I explained to the Queen that we will have to foster our second son in the Stormlands. Perhaps, the Penroses or the Estermonts might take him.”

“That is a great deal of children and planning. We haven't even agreed if we shall go forward with this endeavor.”

She looked at the book, rubbing her finger over the stitches on the binding. Her words were halting with emotion. “Do you find me unpleasing, my Lord?”

He heard the voice in his head saying didn’t he deserve better. Tyrion pushed it out of his thoughts, “How old are you, Shireen?”

“I just turned seventeen.”

He started, “Do you know how old I am? I have been twice married. I am almost twice your age. I am a notorious drunkard and lecherous lord..”

She spoke, interrupting him, “You will not be my first betrothed. I was to be married to Rickon Stark for the use of my men in the Battle of the Bastards, to regain Winterfell back for House Stark.”

“Rickon? He was just a little boy.”

“He was 11 when he died. Obviously, we would have waited a few years to.. To.. consummate the marriage.”

Tyrion looked at her but she kept looking at the book. Her face was flushed from the conversation. Tyrion touched her chin and lifted it to see her eyes. He found he liked the color and the way they sparkled. He spoke quietly, “How much do you know happens between a wife and her husband?”

 

“I have read things and I have been around my father’s army most of my life. I am not stupid. I have seen men naked.”

Shireen spat the last sentence out, full of defiance and almost-pride of her worldliness.

Tyrion half smiling, found he liked this girl and her defiance. It was slightly beguiling the way she was sweet and innocent, yet also proud with an undercurrent of defiance. He asked, more curious, “Who have you seen naked?”

“Once, after my mother and father died, Jon Snow was ..was seriously injured at the Wall. By the time Ser Davos found him, all hope was lost. I saw him naked. I watched Lady Melisandre wash him.”

Tyrion looked at her and saw her look back down at the book, flushing furiously. He was very curious what had happened at the Wall. It seemed that Jon was keeping something a secret. One thing was certain was the girl was slightly in love with Jon Snow. He did not blame her. But it made him sad. He was sick of marrying girls who would never love him. Tyrion spoke, “I am sure I will look different from Jon when you see me naked.”

As if she sensed that she had somehow revealed her true feelings, Shireen spoke, “My lord, I am naive but I am not too young to be a wife. I know I am not beautiful. But I am clever and I am high-born and I am certain I can be a good wife and mother. There are many kinds of beauty and some are the kind we hold within. I am not a child and I understand that you may not be attracted to me. My mother told me it would be hard for a man to love me or bed me. I know who you are and I do not expect you to change or love me. You may keep a mistress as long as she is clean and you are discrete; as long as you give me children and respect.”

Now, Tyrion looked at his hands. He could feel her looking at him. Of course, she had heard his reputation. Sansa might have told him how he kept his mistress as her maid. Shireen’s words resonated, My mother told it would be hard for men to love me or bed me. What mother would say such a thing?

Didn’t I deserve better? changed into a new question, repeating in the back of his mind Didn’t she deserve better?

Tyrion met her eyes, smiling sadly, “If you are certain you will go along with this, we must seal it with a kiss.”

She looked surprised, “Kiss you? Here in the garden…”

Tyrion looked around, “Yes, on this bench, will do.”

Shireen looked like she was drowning a little and then she regained her composure. She looked into his eyes and spoke, “I have never kissed anyone, my lord.”

“Never…” Tyrion thought surely one of her father’s men, a young knight, a second son looking for a good marriage, a stable hand, a childhood friend. Perhaps, Jon on a cold night after too many ales on the Wall.

“Who would kiss me?”

He looked at her and he knew the truth of it. The words repeated in his head. Didn't she deserve better? Shireen continued, “Even Mother stopped kissing me after the greyscale.”

Tyrion thought that she was more alike to him than he had thought. They were both unloved and despised, for different reasons but in the end, they were alone. His feelings softened and he spoke taking her hand in his own. How monstrous his fingers looked next to her long thin ones. “You must kiss me. My lady, I will not marry you unless you kiss me. You may find it unagreeable and wish to set me aside. I will not agree to this without your kiss.”

 

Shireen looked at the book in her lap, and smiled at the book because she would not look at him. For a moment, he saw the light of the sun break through the gloom and hit her face. On the side of her face that faced him, her skin was cream and without blemish. The Queen’s attendants had curled and braided her hair and dressed her in a silk dress from the Reach of the deepest blue, almost indigo. Her shawl had fallen on the grass and her shoulders were bare. Her skin was all the luminous colors of cream and pink and blue and he wondered if her skin was as luminous on the other parts of her body. Shireen's eyes were wide and blue like the sea, but in the center was a ring of almost violet. No one had probably ever looked to see the purple in them. It reminded him of Daenerys and her fine features, almost like a fragile bird but full of steel and fury. They were cousins and blood. Could she see the similarity? Tyrion was starting to see the similarity.

He spoke to her, “Who is your favorite character in the Dance?”

“When I was a child it would have been Rhaenyra. After all, she had the true claim to the throne. If not for her sex, she would have been King and there would have been no war. I often used to think her plight was similar to my own. But as I have grown older, I feel more for Jaehaera, Maelor, Aegon, Viserys, children who were caught in the midst of war. All of them were either murdered or scarred by it for the rest of their days. It is why I knelt in the Great Hall. I am sick of all the death. My lord, I would like to begin living. We won’t until we settle the Northern threat and we can’t do that without kneeling.”

Shireen looks at him and he feels exposed and wants to look away, but he doesn’t. Shireen smiles, “Who do you like in the Dance of the Dragons?”

“Why.. when I was a boy, I saw myself as a Daemon Targaryen, dashing rogue prince, scoundrel and adventurer, flying about on his red dragon, Caraxes, stealing maiden's hearts, stealing kingdoms. But now that I am older, I always cheer for Mushroom. After all, he died of old age in the Red Keep, well-loved and fat. Dwarves must stick together. ”

They laughed together amid the pines. Self-consciously, she covered her mouth while she laughed. Tyrion took her hand and kissed her palm. “Did young Rickon Stark ever kiss you?”

“I never met him. He was killed before even we met.”

 

She deserved a betrothed who would love her, who was a man who could teach her and help her. She deserved it.

He touched her face, the unblemished side. “You are beautiful when you smile. Do not hide it.”

He watched the skin on her shoulders and around her neck flush from the flirtations. He wondered how it might look after they kissed or in thier bed. He noticed her breasts beneath her dress were full and very womanly. The way her breathing changed had made them more noticeable or maybe he had never seen beyond the scar on her face. She was a woman under that dress, older than Tysha or Sansa had been when he had married either one.

She spoke, her one hand in his, her other touching her braids, nervously. “You are good at this, my Lord. My father always said Tyrion Lannister was a natural at court, full of Lannister charm. I understand now what he saw.”

Tyrion spoke, “Shireen, my name is Tyrion. Please call me Tyrion. I am also certain your father did not say that. He probably said I was full of Lannister lies and had a forked tongue like an adder.”

She laughed, “Perhaps, my father has been dead for several years and it is not kind to speak ill of the dead.”

Tyrion smiled “I will go tell the Queen there will be no wedding. She will be sad to know but my Queen has had much disappointment.”

He got up from the bench and wiped his hands.

Shireen touched his arm. “Wait... You will not have me!”

 

“I told you my demand. I need you to kiss me. I will not marry an unwilling bride again.”

She licked her lips, biting the lower while she worried. Shireen spoke, her voice cracking, “Could you come a bit closer?”

He stepped into her, her bent knees touching him. Tyrion could see her pulse on her neck beating beneath her skin. Shireen leaned over the distance and kissed him lightly. Her mouth slightly parted as he pressed his lips against her. When his tongue skated lightly over her lips, he felt the warm welcome heat from his stomach spread to his crotch in that painful twist of desire and ache.

Tyrion heard her gasp in a small sound, full of youthful desire and curiosity. Instinctively, he pulled her in his arms. Shireen tentatively opened her mouth and he felt a swell of want for her as she twisted against him on the stone bench.

When he pulled from her, he smiled, “I will tell the Queen to prepare for our nuptials.”

Daenerys had been excited to have a wedding and though there were very few reasons to celebrate, Tyrion and Shireen were married in a simple ceremony at the Sept at Dragonstone two days later.

At breakfast, on their wedding day, Tyrion had taken her hands in his, "I apologize now, for I will not be able to dance with you at our wedding.”

Shireen smiled, squeezing his hand. “Do not worry, Tyrion. I was never taught to dance. My mother was certain I would never be invited to and anyway, R’hllor frowns upon such wickedness.”

Ser Davos pulled him aside before he entered the Sept. He spoke like he was angry at Tyrion. “My Lord, I saved her from the fire. I saved her from death. I would not see her hurt.”

“Ser, I don’t understand.”

Ser Davos spoke, “You have heard of Melisandre and Lord Stannis’ belief in her magic and her god. Sometimes, they would burn people. We were outside of Winterfell, preparing for battle the next day. You can’t imagine how cold it was and the men had started starving and freezing. After we butchered the horses, Lord Stannis called me to his tent. That Red Witch had seen the Bolton’s banners fall in her fires and she was certain Stannis’ banners would be raised over Winterfell. Stannis seemed troubled and restless. He told me to go back to Castle Black for more supplies and men. It made no sense but he commanded me and I am a man to do as I was bid. I was about to leave in the cold night and Stannis stopped me. He had Shireen on her horse, barely bundled for the cold, but as if he had rushed to get her to leave. Her father, Stannis, came to me like a man haunted. He had told me that Red Witch planned to burn Shireen so that the battle might be won. Stannis was a complicated man, but I do not think I ever so him so troubled, so conflicted. He wanted to be King but he would not do it if it meant hurting his child. Keep her safe he told me. I have kept my word these past years. I will not see her hurt now.”

Tyrion spoke, “I do not intend to hurt her, Ser. I intend to be her husband.”

As the words came out, he thought to himself that might be its own kind of hurt.

Tyrion thought on the story that Ser Davos had told him that Stannis had planned on burning her to R'llhor and, at the last moment, changed his mind. He had died at Winterfell at the hands of Bolton's men.

Tyrion and Shireen were married in the bare Sept at Dragonstone. Lady Selyse had ordered the statutes of the Seven burned on the beaches of Dragonstone years ago when Shireen had been a girl. No one had ever replaced them. A Septon mumbled the words and Shireen knelt while her covered her with a cloak of a Lannister lion that had been hastily made. He hoped that was not an ill omen for their wedding but marriage in wartime seemed to be a hasty, simple thing.
They had a small feast but there were no lords, no music, no festivities. As it grew dark outside, Jon pulled him aside as the Queen sat with Shireen, giggling as if they were girls. Jon had drunk a great deal of wine and he spoke deliberately with a great deal of concentration. “Sansa spoke kindly of you. You were kind to an orphaned girl with no family, just a name and land. You were kind when you had no reason to be. You were kind to me and told me the truth of the Wall. This is why I have allowed this because of your kindness. Be kind to her.”

Jon went to sit near Daenerys and look at her with all the longing of a man in the cold wanting a fire.

 

Tyrion sat and drank his wine, thinking about how certain it seemed that everyone was that he would hurt her. Didn’t she deserve better? He watched the sad sweet girl who would brighten when he would speak with her. Shireen Baratheon Lannister was his wife. He was responsible for her. He did not want to ruin this marriage and he did not want to hurt her. He remembered them speaking of Rhaenyra and Daemon. Slowly, he thought of an idea and resolved to see it through.

There was no need for a bedding. There were no lords and this might be a celebration but the air was thick with anxiety and danger. As they walked to the rooms that Daenerys had prepared for the newlyweds, he could feel her arm tremble.

When they arrived at the rooms and opened the door, the room was full of windows, overlooking the sea to the north and west, white marble and weirwood furniture. There were red carpets, with pictures of satyrs and maidens frolicking in debauchery with Children of the Forest. In an alcove, there were several soft chairs and bookcases. On the table was a carved harp. The bed was two dragons curled around the mattress with tails that ran around the white wood posts, losing itself in the canopy that was painted to look like the starry sky on a cloudy night.

Shireen clapped her hands together, “This is Queen Rhaenys’ room! Look at the bed! Do you see the harp? Rhaegar played it for Elia. Father never let me come in this room. Mother thought it was wicked but I wanted this to be my room when I was grown. I would dream of it.”

Tyrion saw a couch by the fire. “I will keep watch here,” he said from the couch. “I have done this before.”

Shireen looked slightly shocked, “No, you must come to bed. It is our wedding night. This is where Daemon Targaryen would sleep before he was married to Rhaenyra. It is said Daemon Targaryen and Laena enjoyed these rooms the most. He would sleep in no others while he stayed here. It is rumored that Daemon, Laena, and Rhaenyra would all three sleep in this room and did more than sleep.”

 

Tyrion looked at her, “How did you learn such things?”

She smiled, wickedly, “I read them. I was raised in Dragonstone and I had no friends, but Patchface. I know King Aegon's rooms are where Queen Daenerys sleeps. Your room as her Hand was always the castellan, though Orys slept there before the Conquest. These are the rooms of Queen Rhaenys. It is said Viserys the Second brought Larra here shortly before she left him. He gave her these rooms, hoping it would remind her of Lys. She said it was a gloomy and dark place and it did not remind her of Lys at all. And Daeron the Good’s sister, Daenerys, slept here. They say Daemon Blackfyre would sneak in here just to read her love poems.”

Tyrion laughed, “I am sure if Daemon Blackfyre snuck in her rooms it was to do more than read her poetry.”

Shireen laughed nervously. “I got you a present for our wedding day. Well, I asked the Queen... Anyway, open it.”

She handed him a large object wrapped in velvet. Immediately, he knew it was a book. He untied it and in his hands, he held Barth’s An Unnatural History. He looked at it and smiled. Shireen smiled back, “Do you like it? I am sure it is very rare.“

As a man who had spent his life reading, he understood what he was holding, his face broke into a smile, “Thank you, Shireen. I do not think anyone has ever given me such a thoughtful and precious gift. Did I ever tell you as a child that I wanted a dragon? I would read anything I could about dragons.”

She smiled, “I used to have nightmares of dragons, nightmares of this place, where the stone dragons would come to life and eat me. But being here as a woman, I have missed it. It is the only home I have ever known.”

As he set the book on the table, Tyrion turned to see her undressing in front of the firelight. Slightly spellbound and speechless, he watched his wife undress. As the dress fell from her frame, she stepped out of it. Shireen stood there in front of the fire with a sheer white underdress. He could see her body, the cream pink color of her skin outlined by the fire, her breasts and nipples hard from the cool air or his stare, the space between her legs which was covered by a small patch of dark hair.

Tyrion wondered if she knew that he could see her body. She seemed too innocent but he felt his cock strained against his clothes, uncomfortably. He strengthened his resolve. He would not fuck her tonight. She was an innocent, a girl and he was certain to hurt her. He wasn’t even entirely aware if she understood what would happen. Wasn’t he taking advantage of the situation?

She went to her side of the bed and climbed in, “Come to bed, Tyrion.”

As Tyrion walked to his side of the bed, taking off his jacket, she pulls her underdress off in one fluid movement. With all the modesty of a maiden, she pulls the sheet and blanket up to cover herself. He wonders if Daenerys told her of what would happen tonight. He could see his Queen doing that, knowing what her first night of marriage was like.

Climbing into the bed, he pulled his shirt loose from his pants. Tyrion was painfully aware he was not drunk and her hands shook as he took his shirt in her hands and helped him pull it off.
Shireen whispered, “Tyrion, I am certain you will think me foolish. I have read what needs to be done and I will see it to the end, but I do not have the skill or any experience. You must help me. Show me."

He looks at her wife. The side of her face untouched by the greyscale was creamy and clear with pink from the flush of her wedding night. The side that was touched was grey like the color of stone but it only traveled up her cheek like a scar or a shadow. Her neck was an invitation as were her shoulders, beckoning him to pull the sheet down and take his wife’s body for his own.

Shireen had deep bright blue eyes, with the circle of violet. If her ears were big like her mother’s, her brown hair against her shoulders, thick and full, diminished the size of them. She would have been beautiful, if not for the greyscale. Renly had called her his brother’s ugly daughter, but she was not ugly. As a Lannister, Tyrion knew how ugly some of the most beautiful people could be. He remembered being much younger and certain he would never be loved, never have any value to anyone, because he was a dwarf. What would have happened if someone had cared to soften his care? She was his wife. He could show her love and perhaps regard could grow between them.

 

Shireen looked at him, lost in his thoughts and doubts. “Tyrion, what do we do now?”

“Kiss me,” he said.

She kissed him twice, a small dry kiss on his cheek and slightly longer one against his lips. He smiled, gently touching her shoulder. “First, you must know that you can tell me to stop and I will. The Queen, the King in the North, Ser Davos, even myself, all of us would prefer you to be ready. No one will care if we do not do this tonight.”

Shireen spoke with great resolve, “We must.”

 

He speaks to her, “Did I ever tell you how much you remind me of Daenerys? You do.”

Tyrion lays down on the pillow next to her. He wants to reach beneath the sheets and touch her, feel her twist against her but he resists the urge. “Lie down next to me. Kisses should be soft and wet. Kisses are always better if both people want to be kissed. Come closer, Shireen. I will kiss you once. If you want more, you must kiss me.”

Shireen speaks, her voice sounds small and scared, “A kiss... it is so close, so near.”

“Do not be afraid. Remember, no one wants you to do something that frightens you. I can always go sleep on that couch.”
Tyrion kissed his wife softly. She parted her mouth and her tongue met him and he felt his plans drift away for a moment. Almost instantly, his body responded. He wanted to see her and he wanted to fuck her. And he really wanted to watch her face as she felt herself let go to the desire as he fucked her. Perhaps, he should have found a whore to not be so eager. How long had it been since he had been with a woman? He pulled away from her.

Shireen’s breath was labored and her skin was flush with desire.

“More please," she pleaded with him. Her pleading had almost done him in. He had images in his mind of her skin and the color of her skin after rubbing it red with his beard. He imagined the skin of her thighs red from his kissing them tomorrow morning. He thought of the small patch of dark hair and how she will taste the first time. His cock was so hard that it was painful."

He growled in her ear, “You must kiss me back.”

“Please ...Tyrion.”

“Shireen, I will not touch you unless you kiss me back.”

She leaned into him gently, pushing him into the mattress. The pressure of her slim waist against his cock took his breath away for a moment. She speaks almost as if reminding herself. “You are my husband and I am your wife.”

He spoke as he looked into her eyes, “Yes, I am yours and you are mine.”

Shireen licked her lips and touched his face tracing his scar, beneath his beard. It is gentle and careless and his cock jumped, but he will not touch her. When her lips touched his, they parted and her tongue darted into his mouth. She moaned, softly. She kissed him again and again and again. Each one was more passionate, more wanton. He found her arms around him and she is pulling on him, scratching against his arms and back, as if she is trying to spur him on to the next delicious activity. Her hips lift against his unbidden, natural. She does not know what the act holds but her body is acting on its own accord.

Tyrion pushed her down on the mattress, and she called his name, breathless and pleading still, “Please, Tyrion..”

With the all the skills and tricks he had learned over his life from his time with whores. Tyrion kissed his wife. He kissed her mouth and stroked her body. Taking his fingers, he traced her body, each curve and twist. Gently, he squeezed one pale nipple and she moaned, rising against him. He sucked her nipples and her legs parted. Carefully, he touched her sex and she was soaking wet.

Instead of continuing at her cunt, he chose to learn his wife’s body. He rubbed her back and licked her legs from her ticklish feet to her sex. He sucked and twisted her nipples, kissing them, sucking them, biting them, twisting them. He whispered slightly naughty things and loving things in her ears and kissed and bit her neck.

By the time, he is between her legs, in both of his hands he holds her backside and her legs are bent over his shoulders. She is almost crying with desire. When he licks her sex the first time, she calls out his name and Tyrion feels himself let go in his pants. It doesn’t stop him. He is enjoying himself too much, learning the newest Lady Lannister’s body.

A few hours later, her legs are soft and shaking. His jaw hurts and he does not think he will be able to chew his food properly tomorrow. His fingers and face are covered with her pleasure, It does not bother him at all. She curls up next to him, kissing his neck, tired and sleepy. He felt her let go the first time against his mouth but she has come with him several times with his mouth and his fingers. He did not use his cock, not once. His pants have stayed on the whole time. This night has been about watching his wife come undone over and over. He is almost asleep, satisfied. Tyrion thinks he will wait a hundred days before he fucks her until she is wild for him, until she loves him.

Shireen wakes him in the morning. Dawn is breaking over the sea. She smiles and is touching his chest, “Tyrion, you did not take my maidenhead.”

He smiles, as she presses against his chest, “Believe me, Shireen. We did more than most married couples do in years last night.”

She smiles, “I am a little sore but it felt so good. Will it always feel so good?”

“Always, for you. I will do my best.”

She gets up from the bed. In the morning light, he sees the red scratches of his beard on her thighs, her breasts, her stomach. There are small purple bruises from his mouth and fingers but she seems content and pleased. He thinks he must go easier tonight. Tyrion thinks when she comes back to bed he will kiss each bruise and mark softly and whisper that he is sorry.

He is almost sleeping, his eyes closed, when she comes back to bed. He opens his eyes. She has a knife and her foot. “I need you to cut me.”

Tyrion tries to sit up and rubs his eyes, “I do not understand.”

“Well, if the Queen or someone checks the sheets, she will think I was not a maiden and my reputation will be ruined. Mother said things like that a lady will never live down.”

“The Queen will not send for our sheets. She doesn't care.”

“She might. Or perhaps, others might.”

Tyrion pulls himself up and looks at her. She seemed worried and gave him both her foot and the knife, She speaks, “I read that if you cut my foot. No one will know. We will stain the sheets and my honor will be preserved.”

He takes her foot and kisses it. She is ticklish and he feels her entire body twist as she giggles. It makes him think of other things he could do to her to get a reaction similar. He smiles. “I will not cut you or hurt you, Shireen.”

He lets her foot go gently. Instead, he takes his thumb and makes a small cut. A few drops of blood fall on the sheets.

"Are you happy now?" he says looking at her, underneath him naked.

She nods smiling, “Yes, Tyrion. I am happy.”

“Let’s see if I can make you happier,” he says as he opens her legs and parts her sex with his fingers.

 

Tyrion had wanted to drag it out for months but his resolve doesn’t last that long. He lasts maybe a fortnight or a bit longer. Every night, he pleasures her with his mouth and his fingers on every part of her body he can think to. Tyrion wonders as he has wrung her last cry out as she fisted the sheets and face in the pillows if he isn’t every bit the lecher as Daemon Targaryen. Now, Shireen whispers all manner of dirty things in his ear, each thing more wicked than the last. He has begun to wonder what books the library might hold. She comes to bed, naked, in various positions, and pleads with him to take her maidenhead. Once he came to their room, she was on all fours, naked, with lion ears and a tail, purring and asking him to mount her. Once, she made him watch her bathe in a copper tub. He almost drowned and water was everywhere. She begs for all his fingers while he slips them inside her. She will lick them clean after they are finished. One time, he slipped his little finger in her ass as he licked her and now, she begs for it. Shireen has gotten wild with desire and knowledge. She begs him to make her a woman, a wife, a mother. He smiles and pleasures Shireen until the sheets are soaking wet, but he never takes his pants off. For the last week, Tyrion is certain he has had an erection every time he has looked at his wife. She exudes desire and he is unable to think of anything but their time in bed.

Until one night, they are in bed reading she reads. Recently, she will read one book and when she is ready for bed, she will pick up The Tales of Mushroom. She will read aloud certain decadent and wicked parts. This particular copy has several pictures and sometimes she will ask her husband if they might do what is in the book, in their bed. "Perhaps, Missandei might be affable to such acts. Maybe I should invite her. What do you think, Ty?" It has come to the point when Tyrion sees her touch the red-bound book, he finds himself half hard.

On this night, she reads a very descriptive and colorful or Rhaenyra practicing sinful delights on Mushrooms giant member.

She shuts the book. “Ty, Is that true?”

He looks up at her. “Is what true?”

Shireen has started calling him Ty and sometimes my love. When she looks at him, she glows. “I can do that to you. The thing you do with your mouth to me. The kisses. I could put your giant dwarf member in my mouth.”

Shireen has still not seen his cock. Tyrion is certain if he takes it out, she is certain to lose her maidenhead. She paws at it, begs for it, presses against it, but he has resisted so far. He looks at her “Yes, you could, but I wouldn't ask you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are a lady and my wife, I wouldn't ask.”
“Rhaenyra was Queen and she liked it. Let me try.”

He does not know if he does it because of the way her eyes are burning with desire or if the flush of her skin. Maybe, he has been teasing himself for the past fortnight and he can take no more. She helps him pull his pants off. He shows her how to take her tongue and run along the bottom of his cock and over the top. He shows her how to move her hand against his length while using her mouth. Tyrion is surprised to finds she likes it. It is shocking to him and extremely provocative.

As she dips her head to try and take the length of him in her mouth, Tyrion realizes that she has managed to get his pants off and all is lost. By the morning, Shireen Lannister has lost her maidenhead several times in the night.

 

In the dawn, before they sail for King’s Landing, Tyrion wants to tell Shireen to stay here where she is safe away from Cersei’s anger and her vengeance. Queen Daenerys would have none of that. She will have Theon and Jon beside her. She will have the Lady of Storm’s End, as well. Of course, Shireen would not listen to him and his gentle prodding that she could go to Storm's End first and avoid the Dragonpit altogether.

 

Being at Dragonstone has reminded her of who she is. She is a Baratheon and from the same line as Daenerys. She is all steel and fury. Ours is the fury are the words of her House. He wonders if she hadn’t spent so much time in his bed, learning to demand pleasure, desire and joy, might she still be the sad girl that walked on the shore. When he asked her to go to Storm’s End directly and not go to the Dragonpit with them, she looked at him, “I cannot, sweet husband. I am finally in a position to protect my people, to protect the children. I will not leave now.”

 

As he lays there, he feels a sense of anxiety and dread. Tyrion does not want to bring her in front of Cersei. It is like waving a wounded sheep in front of a hungry lion. She is his weakness. Stannis’ ugly daughter has become his weakness. He's a damned fool, a bigger fool than Mushroom ever was. Perhaps, he is doomed like Daemon Targaryen.

She has been ill the last few days, nauseous and weak. When she opens her eyes and pulls closer to him, he rubs her hair, speaking gently, "Perhaps, you are too unwell to come and see my sister and brother today.”

She laughs, “You make it sound like this will be a happy family gathering and you are introducing them to your new bride. You forget, Cersei is my Aunt and has been that since before my birth. Even before this greyscale, she was known to call me unfortunately for being so ugly. I know her.”

He was speechless because he could not think of a way to convince her not to come. He took her hands. “I would not see her hurt you. If she thinks I care for you, she might be unpredictable. I would not see you hurt.”

She looked into his eyes in the sunlight the violet was even more noticeable, “Ty, after we go to King's Landing, I will depart to Storm’s End with Gendry and we will muster who we can and do what we must. You will go to the North and Cersei will be what is between us. So, I struggled with telling you but I feel I must. It is early... Too early to tell you. Maybe too soon for a Maester to tell. I am late, at least a week, maybe a fortnight. I was sick yesterday morning and today as well. I think I am pregnant. I wanted you to know in case.”

 

Tyrion's stomach twisted and he thought he could not bring her to Cersei now. If she figured it out, Cersei would not rest until she killed Shireen. He smiled and he touched her stomach, still flat.

“My mother would say that I am foolish to tell you so soon. But we know what we are fighting against and what we are fighting for. You should know if we are separated or if one of us perishes.”

He thought back to when he first was proposed to the idea of marrying Shireen. He had thought she was deformed, grotesque. Now the idea of her being in his bed made him excited. The idea that she was carrying his child made him elated. He thought about how happy he was and how Cersei would somehow know. She would sense it. Perhaps, this was a trap to hurt him. Perhaps, Tyrion would be doomed to hurt the women he loved; his mother, Tysha, Sansa and now, Shireen. He tried to push the voice out of his head but he kept hearing, Didn't she deserve better?

Chapter 6: The Mother

Summary:

Tyrion and Ysilla Royce

Notes:

This took some time-- I had this mostly written for months but could not finish it. I took some liberties with the meanings of runes. My intention was to re-interpret and I mean no offense.

I have no idea what Ysilla was like- she has no screen time in the books.

The timeline is a bit different.. but just a bit

Each section is broken up by a section from the famous book of runes by Maester Barneby. This book exists in canon but no excerpts exist- I tried to write my own stuff but I borrowed heavily from several sources.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

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Pertho is a rune of secrets and solving riddles. It is shaped like a window with shutters opening. It is shaped like the metaphor of what it is; a revelation, a puzzle solved, a window opened. It is said that the First Men enjoyed good riddles and while they sat around their campfires they would tell riddles and try to stump each other. A man who was wise enough to tell a riddle that could not be solved was given a measure of respect, as was a man who could solve any riddle. It is said that perhaps, Lann the Clever was one of these men who over time reached legendary status. However, Pertho has a particular female element. Perhaps, the First Men riddle tellers and solvers included women. It has been said that perhaps those women were the keepers of wisdom. Pertho is a rune that means secrets. It also means new beginnings or new relationships. It also represents the hidden aspects of relationships, fertility, wombs, motherhood. It is what is yet to be revealed. It is the potential, the quickening, the magic unseen but there waiting.

Maester Barneby

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Tyrion watched as they sailed into Runestone. It had taken several weeks to sail from Casterly Rock to Runestone but he had brought plenty of wine and books. He had even found a book on runes in the library. His Father had sent word that he had found him a suitable bride in Lord Royce’s only daughter, Lady Ysilla Royce.

Tyrion had not even known his father had made a proposal though it did not surprise him too much. Over the years, Tywin Lannister had tried to get Tyrion a bride but none of the lords had ever accepted the offer. Tyrion did not know the specifics of how his father arranged a marriage with the proud, ancient House of Royce but he had. Tywin Lannister had sent word that his son come with wedding presents and to do it with haste. The haste was in case the young lady or her father might change their mind.

Tyrion wondered about the girl, Ysilla was an old name, a name given to daughters of the First Men. He had not heard that the Royces had fallen on hard times. He had not heard that she had been ruined or disfigured and so on the trip, he had puzzled over what had compelled Lord Royce to marry his daughter to the Imp of Casterly Rock who was known for his lechery and drunkenness at twenty-three years old.

When the ship docked in the port, his father was waiting with his banner and his men. As they rode to the keep, Tyrion saw a dark sturdy stone keep, unremarkable in every way, except that there were runes inscribed in the stonework. It was quite a feat for the First Men who built it hundreds, possibly thousands, of years ago when they were the Kings of the Vale. Of course, the sturdy keep was decorated with the banners of Lannister and Royce in honor of the upcoming nuptials.

When he met her in the yard of Runestone, he kissed her hand. She had caramel colored hair and her eyes were hazel. She was pretty and her body had a good shape, a moon shy of her seventeenth name day. Ysilla was a vision of loveliness and maidenhood. When Tyrion kissed her hand and introduced himself, she smiled shyly and looked away. Tyrion did take note of her brothers glaring at him. But Ysilla was nothing but sweet shy smiles.

The second night, Tyrion was at Runestone, his father named him the heir of Casterly Rock and toasted the upcoming union with children and prosperity for both Houses. That night Tyrion tried to get her to speak to him but she was quiet, only smiles. By the third night, Tyrion thought he might go crazy if he could not figure out what his betrothed thought of him. However, she was constantly chaperoned by at least one of her brothers. Perhaps, his reputation had traveled to Runestone and her brothers were concerned for their sister’s honor.

The new heir to Casterly Rock was pleased in his betrothed. But it worried him that he had not spoken to her in private. Maybe she was marrying him against her will, though it did not appear to be that way. Ysilla seemed pleased by the upcoming nuptials.

On the fifth day, the day before their wedding, Tyrion asked gently if he could take his soon-to-be bride for a walk around the godswood. Waymar, her chaperone, and third brother seemed like he was going to say no. But she had gently laid her hand on her brother’s arm and he had acquiesced. As they walked, Tyrion talked and Ysilla listened. When he made jokes, she laughed and Tyrion had smiled. It seemed his wife was quiet but he hoped to hear her laugh a great deal more.

Tyrion asked her the question that had been burning in his heart since he had arrived, “My lady, may I ask a question?”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“I know that I am bursting with Lannister charm and Lannister gold but I am curious, why did you father agree to this match? I mean my father has offered my hand to a great many lords but only your father agreed to it. Why?”

She looked at him, “Because I wanted you.”

He laughed, completely disarmed by her innocence, The next word slipped out before he could stop himself “Why?”

“My Lord, you will be the Lord of Casterly Rock and I will be your Lady and wife, that is no small thing. Besides that, I have seen how you look at me and how you speak, with such courtesy and gentleness. My brothers are overprotective and coarse the way they look at you and treat you but you are well-spoken and thoughtful. You have kind eyes. But most importantly, on the day the proposal came, I threw the stones. My mother taught me how to throw the stones and how to read runes. I have had several proposals and I always throw the stones. Never before have they spoken in such a powerful way. Speechless, I threw them again. Every time I got the same five stones. I threw ten times but I kept getting the same runes, pertho, gebo, wunjo, algiz, and kenaz. Kenaz is a very powerful rune, old magic as is Algiz. The stones had spoken and I knew you were the man I was destined for. I had to meet you. The man who made the same runes come up. A strong man. The man who would bring me, love. and that it was written in the stones, in the bones of the earth.”

Tyrion smiled but wondered about his young bride. After all, he had heard the girls around Casterly Rock make love potions and charms to keep away bad luck or to have young men fall in love with them. He was certain this is what Ysilla had done. She was a pretty girl and when she looked at him, Tyrion saw she did not look at him with fear or disgust that most women looked at him. However, there was a bit of nagging doubt in the back of his mind and he promised himself he would read the book about runes tonight.

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Gebo is the rune that looks to us to be an X. It represents partnership and love, both sides of a relationship. There is a belief that Gebo is originally was a symbol for cattle, as you can see from the two top lines representing horns. Others believe it is a symbol of a man and woman joining in the act of marital union. Gebo symbolizes joy, wealth, abundance, fertility

Gebo is both sacrifice and generosity, connection and isolation. For when one gives, another one sacrifices. When one makes a new connection, one becomes more isolated from a previous relationship. It is the push and pull of the ancient brutal world of the First Men. In their land of scarce resources, there limited supply of food meant if one got more, another would go hungry. There is always a price to pay. There must be a sacrifice; the auroch’s blood so the clan can eat, the blood of a maiden so a child can be made. Surely, this shows how barbaric the practices of the first men were.

Maester Barneby

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He married her in front of a heart tree in the godswood at Runestone. There is no sept at Runestone was what Lord Yohn Royce said when Tyrion asked. Tywin had told him privately that they would also say their vows at Casterly Rock as was proper. Tyrion thought it was slightly romantic and he knew the Lannisters could be traced as far back as the Royces. As he stood there at sunset, he wondered how many Lannister men had stood in a godswood and swore vows of marriage. He liked the idea of it.

At sunset, Tyrion and his brother, Jaime, and father, Tywin, went in the godswood and waited at the heart’s tree. Her father, Lord Royce, brought her on his arm down the wooded path. In the light of torches and lanterns, Ysilla knelt in the grass on a blanket, so he could cover her with his cloak.

Her brother, Andar, spoke the vows for them to repeat. And as spoke the simple words, Tyrion felt the weight of his vow. He was glad Jaime had come to stand with him. He looked up at his brother and Jaime nodded his approval. Tyrion smiled at her as he kissed her lips chastely. When he pulled from her, he saw the shadow of a blush on her cheeks.

At the feast, Tyrion watched the way she would smile when she would look at him, slightly dreamy and so sweet. He thought to himself that this must be the way other men felt when women looked at them. It made him feel strong. He took her hand in his, squeezing gently, a show of his hopefulness.

Ysilla squeezed back. Tyrion spoke, “My lady, your dress is lovely.”

It was green like the grass of the fields, a summer color, a hopeful color. It made Ysilla’s eyes change to green from hazel. She smiled pleased. Taking the hem of her skirt and her sleeves, Ysilla answered, “ I made this with my ladies. There is a rune for love, for fertility. This one means abundance. Here is kenaz, the one that is for you. Here is Algiz, the secret that will be revealed. All five runes that I cast are sewn over and over in different ways in golden thread, golden for House Lannister, gold for permanence. I will make you happy, Tyrion, and we shall have an abundance of children. It has been cast. The runes have spoken"

Her excitement was contagious and her sincerity, almost palpable. Tyrion kissed her hand, speaking, “My Lady, you speak the language of the First Men?”

“Not speak,” she said, “Read. My nurse, Tamsyn, taught me how to read when I was young.”

Even if the Lord of Runestone's only daughter was marrying the Imp of Casterly Rock, it was a still a merry affair. Ysilla danced with her brothers, her father, his bannermen, Jaime. Ysilla even got his own father to dance with her. When he heard her laugh, Tyrion would feel a smile involuntarily break across his face. He could not seem to resist her. No one could.

After the bedding, when the dark oaken doors were shut to their bedchambers, only then did Tyrion feel his nerves. Ysilla was spread against the bed, naked, laughing, full of wine and joy. Tyrion wondered if she felt anxious at all. Ysilla motioned for him to come to her, "Come, husband. It is time to make an heir for Casterly Rock."

Gladly, Tyrion climbed in her bed and joined his wife.

They left the following week and returned to Casterly Rock. On the journey home, Tyrion learned about his wife. He learned about how she loved riding and kept doves. She knew a small amount about healing and herbs and asked if she might be able t keep a small garden. Ysilla could ride and fish and Tyrion thought it would be easy to love her.

For the first few months, Ysilla would go in the morning to say her prayers with his Aunt Dorna and spend an hour or two with a septa to learn the religion of her husband. She would have his father's favorite meals prepared every night that he was at Casterly Rock. She was kind to the staff and they loved her for it. She made sure keep was clean. She was not well read but she ran a good household. Tyrion could tell his father, Tywin, was pleased

Ysilla was sweet-natured and tried to win each one of his family members over, even Joy, his Uncle’s bastard. Tyrion loved that about her and thought that his wife and himself shared the same gentle quality for caring for cripples, bastards, and broken things. Perhaps, that is why she loved him.

By the time they arrived in Casterly Rock, she was late for her courses. After a meeting with the Maester, it was confirmed that Ysilla Lannister was pregnant. Tywin, who had ridden to Crakehall, sent a letter that almost sound pleased. Jaime sent a box that had a stuffed toy lion, a small wooden sword, and a teasing letter but he could tell that he was happy for him. Even the Queen sent word that she would visit when the child was born.

Ysilla lost the first baby five months along. The child was a small blue thing though the Maester said it had looked well-formed. Speaking to Tyrion, he spoke sometimes these things happen, “She is young.”

After Tyrion spoke with the Maester, he had sat by his wife and took her hand. “Ysilla,” Tyrion had said, “I am sorry.”

Ysilla looked at him. “Next time, she had said, Next time, we shall be parents. It has been cast. It has been red.”

The second child she miscarried at three moons. The week after the second miscarriage, Ysilla had laid in his arms told him a secret. “Our famed armor is not the secret to keeping the wearer safe. It has nothing to do with the armor. It is the runes that keep us safe and the old Kings of Runestone would paint the runes on their skin. The runes would keep them safe. Armorless and naked, the Lord of Runestone would do battle in the Age of Legends, covered in red runes for protection. No harm would befall him, covered in red runes. Sometimes, they would paint them in red ochre, sometimes in wine, but the best magic was the red blood of their enemies. That is our secret. Blood magic is protection and strength.”

Tyrion pulled her closer and wondered if it was grief that was speaking.

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Wunjo is the rune shaped like a P. Some say this rune represents Lamentation, the Valyrian steel sword of Runestone, the sword lost in the storming of the Dragonpit. However, that might make for good poetry, but the runes of Westeros are ancient. The runes of the First Men are so old that the runes were being written when Valyria was still a land of sheepherders, trying to survive on the volcanic slopes. Others say this rune represents Lightbringer, the sword plunged in the chest of Nissa Nissa.

I believe it represents the rough-hewn stone and bronzes axes that the First Men used to fight when they first came to Westeros. The rune represents the work and toil of a difficult time and the sense of satisfaction when that time is done. It means good fortune and love. The caster’s fulfillment is complete; the transformation finished. Happiness is guaranteed.

However, I do believe there is the blade. The sharp edges will bite and cut. What price will you pay? What blood magic must be wrought for a happy ending?

Maester Barneby

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Tyrion and Ysilla were welcomed to join the King and Queen on their progress to Winterfell. Tyrion had wanted to see the Wall and Ysilla was pleased with the idea to visit the North. She got on well with Tommen and Margaery. Even Cersei seemed unthreatened by her and disarmed by her innocence. Once, Tyrion even caught Ysilla casting runes for Cersei to pass the time on the journey.

When they arrived at Winterfell, Ysilla got sick every morning. After a week, Lady Catelyn brought Maester Cressen to see her. When the Maester emerged, it was what Tyrion feared it was. Ysilla was expecting. With more than a bit of regret, Tyrion gave up on his plans to go to the Wall, but the Wall was no place for a woman expecting.

That night, Ysilla curled against her husband and whispered, “Tyrion, I am afraid. Afraid that I will lose this child as well. Perhaps, we can go to Runestone when we depart. My nurse, Tamsyn, is there. She will know what to do. It is safe at Runestone. All will be well.”

In the darkness, against her ear, Tyrion said, “Yes.”

Agreeing to journey to Runestone seemed to appease her and calm her fears, Tyrion was glad because the Maester said keeping her peaceful would help the baby. Tyrion did not like the strange look in her eyes about runes or Tamsyn when Ysilla spoke of either, but he knew the grief of two lost babies was hard on his wife. Lady Catelyn took to his young wife as if she was her own daughter and Ysilla thrived under the attention. Lady Catelyn spoke of what to eat and how to sleep, what foods would calm a pregnant woman’s stomach. Ysilla could often be found with Lady Stark, sewing.

Ysilla grew close to Lord Stark’s oldest daughter, Sansa. They would often be whispering or giggling. The night before they departed from Winterfell, Tyrion had spoken as he climbed into bed, “Ysilla, it seems you have found favor with little Sansa. When she is Queen, that will be helpful.” She kissed him, gently, “Sansa will never be Joffrey’s queen. I cast the stones. They will not marry.”

Tyrion thought to ask her more but he sat in the darkness thinking of what the future might hold.

They arrived in Runestone with little cause for concern. The journey had been uneventful. Once arrived in Runestone, Ysilla’s care was entirely Tamsyn’s jurisdiction. Tyrion did not like the old woman with her wrinkled face and bearded chin. One night, he went to bed and found Ysilla coved in red ochre runes. When asked, his wife replied, “They are for protection and fertility.”

Tyrion found his stay on Runestone unpleasant. Lord Royce’s youngest son was found killed north of the Wall by wildlings. His body had been desecrated. It had set a somber mood on Runestone. Neither Lord Royce nor his sons seemed to care for him. His wife’s former pleasantness had been overtaken with a need for magic on how to keep a baby in her long enough to survive. Tyrion began to drink even more than he usually had.

Ysilla’s third pregnancy ended at six moons. Tyrion found her in a pool of blood in the godswood. The baby came and even breathed and kicked. But his son was too small and died in the midwife’s arms within the hour. After this time, the Maester at Runestone pulled him aside and said another attempt would kill her.

Tyrion went to console his wife and she had been given a mixture of milk of the poppy and strong wine to soothe her sorrow and take away any pain. Tamsyn had looked at him as if he was unwelcome and Tyrion had gone to his bedchamber with two pitchers of wine. He found himself wondering if he should go to a brothel in the town of Runestone and drown his sorrows but he did not have the heart for it. Instead, he made the decision, that when his wife was better, he would go to King’s Landing.

The next few weeks, while Ysilla recovered, Tyrion found her constantly in the company of the old witch woman, Tamsyn. Usually, Tyrion would find her in red runes. The potions that Tamsyn would make for her left her weak. Her beautiful hair became brittle and began to fall out. Her rosy complexion turned pale and sickly. Ysilla grew thin.

Five weeks after they lost their son, Ysilla kissed him and took his cock in both her hands. She pulled at his earlobe between her teeth, “Tyrion, give me a child. Try again. Please Tyrion, please. Before you leave for the Court.”

Angry and drunk, Tyrion took her hand. “Ysilla, stop this. We don’t need a child, just each other. You have me and I have you. Fuck my father and fuck his line. No more... No More. There are plenty of children with the last name Lannister and they can be the heirs. Fuck the runes and Fuck the First Men! No More. I cannot bear it.”

Crying, she kissed him, repeating, “The last time.”

But Tyrion would not bed her. All he could hear was the Maester’s words that another baby might kill her. He did not want Ysilla dead. All he wanted was to see her smile again; the young, sweet girl he had married and not this skinny-obsessed woman wrapped in spells and visions.

The night before he left for King's Landing, it seemed as if the whole castle finally celebrated. They were getting rid of the Imp of Casterly Rock, the Lannister monster, and the wine poured freely. Lord Royce and his two sons drank with Tyrion. There were musicians and serving girls and laughter. Tyrion was having a good time and he did not notice Ysilla leave with Tamsyn.

It was late when he returned to his rooms. Quietly, he opened the door. Tyrion found his wine naked on the bed. Covered in blood. Ysilla had runes carved into her skin, her legs, her arms, her stomach. Some she had carved herself but some had to be carved by someone else.

When Ysilla heard the noise from her husband, she woke. Sitting up, Tyrion noticed her hair was braided in small braids to frame her face but it flowed down her back. Some of the braids were adorned with bronze runes. Her hazel eyes were black and glowed in the fire. She had color in her face and it reminded Tyrion of someone who ate the mushrooms in the mountains of the westerlands or drank too much. Ysilla climbed to her knees on the bed, “Tamsyn says tonight. The magic is strong. We will worry no more. This time we will have an heir for certain. She has given me powerful magic from the Hill Tribes. We will have a son. He will be strong.”

Tyrion felt trapped and confused, “Ysilla, please stop this.”

She bit her lip and grabbed for him, falling off the bed. As he gathered her in his arms, Tyrion kissed her forehead. Ysilla spoke to him, laughing and touching his face, “Please, Tyrion. Please. I Know this time will work. I love you. Please, give me a child or else, I will die.”

Tyrion helped her to the bed. When he climbed in, he spoke to her, “This is the last time.”

Tyrion woke in the morning and felt a huge wave of guilt crash over him. His head hurt and he wondered if his wife had slipped something in his wine. He looked over at her sleeping form and looked back at the canopy. He heard her wake and curl next to him.

“Good morning,” she said sweetly as if he hadn’t found her delirious with potions and cutting herself bloody last night, as if they hadn’t slept together after the Maester warned them not to. Dried blood was all over the bed and Tyrion felt he might get sick.

Tyrion stood up and started to dress. Speaking in the coldest voice he could muster, Tyrion said, “If I find you like that again, we will return to Casterly Rock or King's Landing immediately and we will never come back to Runestone again. I am leaving today but if I ever get word of anything like that, I will come back right away to collect you. Whatever is done is done. But Ysilla, I will never tolerate this ever again.”

Tyrion left and when Ysilla came to see him off, he could barely look at her. As the boat traveled to King’s Landing, Tyrion took some comfort in telling Lord Royce what Tamsyn had done. He had told Lord Royce that if he saw Tamsyn again, he would remove her head from her body. For the first time, Lord Royce agreed with him.

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Algiz is the rune for divinity. It is the space between the world of gods and men. It is representative of the branches of the weirwood tree, the wings of the raven as it takes flight, the hands of a priest or a shaman in prayer. It is the crossroads where we meet the Old Gods.

Turned over, it is a woman giving birth as a child slips from her legs which is another time we are all in a higher presence when life comes forth, and sometimes the living leave to meet the Gods. Death and birth is the place like the weirwood where we can find the Old Gods.

Maester Barneby

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Tyrion had not drunk wine in nine months since the night Ysilla tricked him. Instead, he helped with what he could in King's Landing. But he could not stand the New Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark and he thought Lord Eddard liked him even less. He stayed in King’s Landing for a month or two and went to Casterly Rock.

While he was at the Rock, Tyrion contemplated sending for Ysilla but he did not know if he could stand to look at the strange light in her eyes. He knew he did not want to lay with her. Tyrion was at Casterly Rock when he received word that Ysilla was pregnant. Tyrion threw the parchment in the fire and watched it burn. Later, he sent word he would come for the birth of the child. However, Tyrion kept finding his return trip to Runestone delayed.

By the time, Tyrion went back to Runestone, she was eight months gone. Lord Royce met him at the gate. Tyrion spoke, “Lord Royce, how is my wife?”

"She is well. There has been some bleeding but the Maester says the child appears safe, as does Ysilla.”

"Good .. What of Tamsyn?”

Lord Royce almost smiled, “She disappeared from Runestone a few days after you left. We have had no sign of her and there will not be.”

Tyrion looked at his good father. Lord Royce has taken care of the threat to his daughter’s precarious sanity and her health. This man does not like him but they have one thing in common Ysilla’s love. They both wanted her to be safe and well.

Tyrion nodded. “Thank you, my Lord. I know you do not like me and I am aware of that recent events have not brought me any closer in your regard. I promise you as I did years ago, your daughter’s care is my greatest concern. As soon as the child comes and it is safe for them to travel, we will hire a ship in Gulltown and depart for Casterly Rock.”

Lord Royce was a hard man but he spoke gently when he spoke of his daughter. “Ysilla has been temperamental, spirited. She chose you of all the suitors. She chose you. If I did not think you cared for her, I can assure you I would not allow her to leave with you. But it seems you hold a great deal of affection for her and she loves you.”

Tyrion found her in the godswood covered in a blanket at the foot of a weirwood tree. She looked like the Mother herself. She touched her stomach protectively, as the light hit her hair through the leaves. When she saw him, Ysilla smiled, “Tyrion, you came, finally. I threw the stones and they said you would arrive today.”

He kissed the crown of her head and sat beside her. Ysilla took his hand and placed it on her stomach. His eyes grew wide as he felt the child move. Her stomach was hard like a melon. Tyrion laughed and Ysilla laughed as well. Then, she looked at him, “I have a secret to tell you. No one knows yet. The Maester thinks there may be twins.”

He looked at her hazel eyes, almost blue-grey, and a smile broke across his face. The scars on her arms were healing. Ysilla’s face was clear and her skin looked healthier than she had been in years. She had come back to him.

”Twins…” he leaned down and kissed her stomach, reverently.

A fortnight before, she was due. They received word that King Robert was dead but Tyrion received a letter from his father. His father’s letter stated that Lord Stark, King Robert’s hand, had sent letters to various lords stating that Queen Cersei’s children were all bastards. He was being held in the Black Cells. Lord Tully’s and Lord Stark’s bannermen were mobilizing. Because of the letters, Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lord Renly Baratheon both made a claim for the Iron Throne. War had broken out. Tyrion must leave and help his father and brother fight for Cersei’s children’s claim.

Tyrion knew he was in a precarious position. Lord Royce would side with his liege who was Lysa Tully Arryn. Lysa would surely side with her sister, Catelyn Stark. Tyrion knew Lord Royce felt the same. However, the call to the Knights of the Vale to rally the forces did not come. It seemed Lady Lysa hoped to ride out the War in the Eyrie. Still, Tyrion felt his position was tenuous at Runestone.

That night, Ysilla woke him in the dark. Whispering in his arms, Ysilla spoke, “Tyrion, I am afraid. For all beginnings, there must be an ending. For all life, there must be death. What if I am the sacrifice? What if I am the death? My life for theirs?”

Tyrion reached for her, “Shh.. all will be well. You will see. All will be well. It is normal for a woman to be worried but look, never have you made it this far and you have two. All will be well. Trust the runes.”

The next night during dinner, her labor started. Tyrion stayed outside her lying-in room with her father. Her brother, Andal, the heir to Runestone drank to his sister and the children's health. Robar, her second brother had left a few days before to join Renly Baratheon’s forces. As he sat out in the hallway, Tyrion did not drink even though he craved a drink. Instead, Tyrion thought about the frailty of life, how his mother died in childbirth, and he wondered if Ysilla and the baby would make it.

By the hour of the wolf, he was a father Ysilla gave birth to twins, pretty and perfect. The girl came first and the boy next. Tyrion was amazed at how tiny and beautiful they were. His son had clear green eyes and his daughter had deep blue eyes. She named the girl Rhea and he named the boy Landon.

The midwife said both the children and his wife were fine. Finally, with a joyful heart, Tyrion was certain they would find the happiness she desperately wanted. Tyrion kissed Ysilla, “Thank you, Ysilla. Thank you so much.”

Two days later, Ysilla caught a fever. His children were three days old when their mother left them, their father, her runes, and the rest of the world.

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The rune Kenaz is the sharp-edged c like the Crone. The Crone is the keeper of mysteries and secrets. She is the darkness, the unseen, the riddle unsolved. Kenaz is the torchlight, the inspiration, potential, the child in the womb, the unknown. It holds the potential like the Mother. If you have the skill to solve the riddle, to seek out a solution for the problem, you are the hero and will save the day.

Kenaz is the light and enlightenment. Kenaz is the rune of light in the darkness. The Hightower at Oldtown. It is an open symbol of two lines meeting. It is a door opening, an eye-opening, a mouth speaking a word of magic, a greenseer speaking the riddle of the runes cast. Speaking the words is part of the magic. Words are powerful magic, as is the intelligence to see beyond the trick.

Maester Barneby

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Tyrion was unable to return to his twins at Runestone until they were almost eighteen moons due to the War of the Five Kings. Tyrion wanted the roads to be safe for traveling and that the twins would be bigger and stronger. Though he knew Lord Royce did not have any love for him, Tyrion knew he loved the twins and would keep them safe regardless if their last names were Lannister. Right before the wedding of his nephew, King Joffrey, Tyrion thought to leave before that debacle and bring his children to Casterly Rock.

Tyrion’s father had demanded he marry Lady Sansa Stark, the sad young daughter of House Stark, held prisoner at King’s Landing. Tyrion found the girl pretty but she seemed a tragic figure and he had had enough of tragedy. Tyrion had only consented to the marriage if he could collect his children first and be married on the Rock. His father, Tywin Lannister, was also worried about his grandchildren and agreed to have Lady Stark on the ship to Casterly Rock, guarded by fifty loyal Lannister men, as soon as Tyrion sent word.

Tyrion was at Runestone when King Joffrey, his nephew, was poisoned and Lady Sansa Stark disappeared in the commotion. Silently Tyrion was glad he was so very far away and could not be blamed. He hoped Sansa was safe wherever she was spirited off to. Prince Oberyn was arrested. After all, he was known to have a wide knowledge of poisons.

So, when the Lords Declarant sat at the Gates of the Moon and demanded a meeting with Petyr Baelish, Tyrion and Lord Royce had developed a respectful relationship, regardless of their politics. Lord Royce asked Tyrion to come, saying, “We will need a clever Lannister. Baelish is a tricky slippery thing. Come, Tyrion. You may help.”

As he packed for the journey, Tyrion found his Ysilla’s runes in his things. He looked at the smooth river stones and picked Kenaz out. Tyrion did not know why he brought it, but he slipped it in his pocket for the trip. During the council meeting to determine if Lord Baelish should keep Robyn Arryn until his majority, he saw Lord Royce make the sign for the rune of trickery of treachery, kenaz. Reaching in his pocket, he felt the rune stone, cool and smooth. It comforted him. He wondered whether he would be clever enough to solve whatever riddle.

When Alayne Stone, the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish, came to speak to the council on her father’s behalf, Tyrion saw the ruse. The girl had dark brown hair but her eyes were blue and her sad face familiar. Tyrion knew he should keep quiet but when she saw him, Tyrion saw the color rise in her cheeks and how her eyes avoided his. Alayne answered the questions and spoke highly of her father. Finally, as she finished, Tyrion spoke, standing, “My Lady, I think you look very familiar, too familiar. You remind me of my betrothed who disappeared.”

Alayne made no move to look at him. Tyrion reached in his pocket and handed the girl the runestone. “This was my first wife’s. It is for secrets and treachery. I thought it might keep me safe. But I think you have a greater need for it than I do. Your father is dangerous, and it may be you are unsafe."

“Everyone can be dangerous,” the girl said, her voice flat.

He touches Alayne's hand, “If I can help, I would do what I could. Perhaps, you might trust us with your secret. I believe I knew your mother…”

Notes:

So the last chapter will be Tyrion and Daenerys...Hopefully, I will finish in June.

Chapter 7: The Crone

Summary:

Here is the Crone chapter and the Dany/Tyrion chapter. It took so long to write. It kept growing and changing. I needed to have a way Dany would marry him but I wanted the dragons to be born as well. I also wanted to include some First Men Stories in the West because I feel like the West is short of legends from the First Men.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

My lord, you must wake. I am an old woman and I am running out of stories. Have you ever wondered why there are such a shortage of stories from the Age of Legends here in the West, my Lord. Maybe it's because we have wiped out the worship of the Old Gods. Even though the Old Gods and Goddesses of the First Men have all been erased outside of the North, there are still some families in the Vale and the Riverlands that worship the Old Gods. In other places, there are stories, legends of old of the Old Gods Many people know of the Lady of the Waves and Lord of the Storm in the Stormlands and the Crownlands. One might say that the Drowned God is just a God of the First Men that has triumphed as the only in the strange monotheism of the Iron Islands.

Outside of places like Redfort or Raventree Hall, tales of the Old Gods and Goddesses still exist hidden in the folk tales of the region. Or the Silver Lady or Lady of the Woods who haunts the woods of the Riverlands. She may be a fertility goddess or maybe the Lady of Wild Things. In the Reach and the Westerlands, one has a much harder time trying to find these Old Gods and Goddesses. It is known that the First Men were well settled in the Westerlands. Casterly Rock is a testament to their building skills as much as the Wall or Hightower. However, finding traces of the First Men is hard outside of some pieces of architecture and the weirwoods inside some of the most ancient of keeps and castles. Why is there little to no trace of the Old Gods in the Westerlands? Many a scholar has asked that question.

Lord Roger Reyne was said to have quite a collection of wooden carvings of the First Men, a collection that was given to him by his grandmother, In fact, it was well known in the Citadel that the Lords of Castamere had the most impressive collection of FIrst Men paraphernalia and artifacts in the known world. Now, of course, it is in a watery grave most probably destroyed with the House that collected it.

Perhaps, some Andal Lady of the Rock won the heart of her less than devout Lannister Lord and Husband and she convinced him to use his power to eradicate the worship of the First Men. Or maybe, it became more prudent or economically lucrative for the Westerlands to let it go. Maybe Joffrey Lydden, who is better known as Joffrey Lannister I, took it upon himself to erase the rest of the Old Gods. as a good devout Andal.

There are some Lann the Clever, son of Florys the Fox, could be a myth of a clever bastard from a Mother Goddess or a Greenseer. Maybe, he was a warrior who could warg into foxes or a lion and that is how he slipped into the impenetrable stone of the Casterly’s. The Hooded Man of Banefort might be a version of the Drowned God or the Hanged God who died in the tree for nine days before the ravens woke him with magic and visions. A pagan version of our Stranger.

 

However, if one is willing to be an archaeologist of sorts, one can uncover stories, local tales, that speak of the violence it took to wipe away the Old Gods and Goddesses. In the old Reyne lands, there is said to be a well at a Motherhouse. It is said to have existed since the Age of Legends. This was said to be the well of a very wise witch who led the people to fight against the Andals. Fearlessly, she led the smallfolk against the overwhelming Andal horde and time and time she held them back from her grove.

Frustrated, the Andal knight finally captured the woman with treachery. He killed her and put her head on a pike. When he reached the grove, he cut down all of the weirwoods but left the well. It is said to this day that a drink from the well from a man will lead to courage, and feats of strength or kill him on the spot if he is not worthy to drink the water. For women, some see visions and become powerful seers and sorcerers. However, for the unworthy woman, she will be doomed to madness or treachery and a wicked heart. For this witch was able to see the future and tell a man the day he would die and the means that would kill him. There is speculation that this witch is one of the three witch-goddesses of the First Men that could read the past, present, and future of mortals, a version of our Crone. Listen, my Lord Tyrion, if you wake, I will tell you all my stories and more. Please wake.

300 AC

Tyrion Lannister is in a dream that he cannot wake from. He hears her voice, “Tyrion... my love. My golden lion... My giant, Come back. Come back to me.”

It is the voice of his wife. He tries. He pushes himself to wake up to squeeze her hand, to moan, to will her to believe he is still alive. Tyrion struggles to open his eyes but he is slipping away in the darkness. He hears the voice of the Maester speak, “ My lady, I believe he may wake yet. Lord Tyrion is strong like his father.”

He hears his wife, her voice is desperate and sad, hysterical. “Lord Tywin is dead. Is that the fate of my husband?”

He hears her yell at the Maester to leave her in peace with her husband. Tyrion knows he is getting better because he can feel her as she presses against him. Daenerys is speaking, “I will not see you like this. Do not worry, my love, my lion. They tried to hurt us but we will grow stronger from it.”

He hears the voice of Septa Rowena, the old woman who has been a healer and his wife's septa for years. He has been listening to her stories in this unwakeable sleep. She has told him to listen to her voice and not go in the darkness but to stay and listen. His wife is screaming and crying. Then there is darkness.

Tyrion is unsure how long he lays there. Time is uncertain in this dream place but he knows time has passed. Then, he hears another voice. This is the soft voice of Lady Sansa, except she is commanding. It is unusual. Sansa is usually so soft-spoken, so submissive, so obedient, “My Lord Tyrion, you must wake. It is your wife. I think she has gone mad. She has gone into the fire. Lord Tyrion, you must wake! She has lost her wits. She is burning the witch. She wants to take Daemon in the fire.”

Unfortunately, even though Tyrion knew he was stronger than he had been in days, he was not yet strong enough to open his eyes or respond. No matter how much he would will himself. Whatever was happening would happen. He thought about the baby in her belly, about Jaime, about dragon eggs. Strangely, he even thought of Jon Snow. As he slipped back into the darkness, he felt Lady Sansa’s hand holding his hand. In the last moments of consciousness drifted away, he attempted to squeeze her hand. Hundreds of times, Tyrion had been unable to make the slightest of movement but this time his hand moves. He hears Sansa speak once more, Tyrion. but it is already too late he is in the darkness.

*******

Tyrion had known his second wife since she was an infant. She had been raised at Casterly Rock as Tywin’s ward. Tyrion remembered when she came to Casterly Rock. He was eleven years old and he did not know she would be his wife. She had been a small pale thing bundled in a red velvet blanket with a nursemaid who was the most lovely thing Tyrion had ever seen. The nurse maid’s name was Ava and she had been born on Dragonstone and had lived there all of her sixteen years. Ava called herself a dragonseed and she had silver hair and purple eyes as any Targaryen but she was just a commoner. Tyrion remembered how protective of the small baby she had been when she had arrived on Casterly Rock.

 

The baby’s name was Daenerys Targaryen though there were some who called her Daenerys Battleborn. She was born in the midst of the great battle for Dragonstone, the last bastion of the Targaryens, a stony island off the shore of the crownlands. Tyrion did not know how King Robert’s brother, Stannis had defeated the Royal Fleet but he had.

Arriving at the keep, Lord Stannis had found the once-Queen Rhaella, crownless and bleeding in a birthing bed. Lady Rhaella had cursed Stannis and his brother saying that House Baratheon would wither and there would be no sons born to House Baratheon that would carry the name until House Targaryen forgave them. Stannis was not a man to believe in curses even from dying queens and had asked where Prince Viserys was. Queen Rhaella had laughed and told him her son was at least a day ahead of him, heading to Essos and safety with men still loyal to their rightful King. Stannis had asked where the child was that she had given birth to. Rhaella had not answered but spit in his face with her dying breath.

Stannis and his men had found Ava in a hidden room directly off Rhaella’s chambers with the newborn after the infant Princess began to cry. Stannis had not known what to do with a newborn girl and the nurse, so he had brought them back to King’s Landing for his brother to decide.

When Stannis arrived at Court, the new King Robert had roared that his brother should have dropped the tiny thing in the sea and been done with it. But, even though King Robert bellowed and roared about killing the princess, King Robert did not have the heart for the murder of children. Neither did Stannis.

 

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, had suggested that they send the girl to Lord Stark in the North where she could be fostered and kept safely out of the way. When the time came, King Robert would have a son and one day a wedding between the two might appease the Targaryen Loyalist lords that still lingered, nursing wounds. Jon Arryn had thought to write Lord Stark and see if he would come and take the orphaned thing to Winterfell. Winterfell was far away and cold and perhaps people would forget about her. Also, Ned was loyal and would not use the child to take the throne.

It was at the moment when Jon went to propose the idea, when Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, spoke up that he would ward the child.

For a moment, the stillness in the Small Council table seemed deafening and Tywin spoke, “The Rock is secure. No one will be able to steal her and I have proved my loyalty to the King.”

No one challenged him. Perhaps they thought they Lord Lannister would kill her like he had killed the young children of Prince Rhaegar and then the threat would be gone. King Robert was happy to give Tywin the girl, certain the problem would be solved. Jon Arryn seemed a bit more troubled. After all, he was handing over an infant with the biggest claim to the throne after Robert to a man he was certain he could not trust.

But Jon’s young wife had recently miscarried and Ned was far away and the Dornish were threatening to start an all-out war and he had a hundred other pressing needs. Casterly Rock was indeed secure and perhaps in Tywin’s hands, any son of Robert and Cersei might seem more palatable to the girl when the time came. After all, there was only one reason to keep the tiny thing alive at all and that was to marry any prince that Robert would sire and strengthen the Baratheon claim to the throne.

Daenerys did not come to an untimely death. Rather, she grew up on Casterly Rock with Tyrion and all his cousins under the care of Ava and Aunt Dorna.

 

At first, Ava and the infant had taken up residence in the Lannister nursery, guarded for the infant’s protection around the clock. Tywin had told the nurse that she could have all the freedoms of any other household staff. The girl had nodded and kept to the nursery. For the first fortnight, the girl and her infant charge never left the sanctuary of the nursery.

It was Aunt Dorna who had breached the sanctuary of the nursery. Tyrion was too young to understand all the implications but a long time ago, Aunt Dorna had been a ward, as the Targaryen infant, because of something her father had done. But in time, she had come to see Casterly Rock as her home, not a prison, and she found Uncle Kevan and loved him. With her faith and the kindness of the Mother, Aunt Dorna went and visited with the girl.

 

Two nights later, Tywin had announced that Princess Daenerys would no longer be called Princess but be given the title, Lady. When Queen Cersei delivered a son, the Lady Daenerys would be betrothed to them, if the King willed it. If not, she would be given to the Silent Sisters. The girl would be his ward and should be treated as such, even if she was a daughter to a madman. Tyrion had looked at his Uncle Gerion to see if he would say something funny, as he often did when Father was serious. Uncle Gerion said nothing.

Tywin went on to say he must go back to King’s Landing on the morrow and Uncle Kevan would see to anything they might need. Tywin Lannister, a man of his word, left the next day. After all, Cersei was planned to marry the new King and there were plans to make in King’s Landing. A Lannister had not married a King for almost 300 years back when Lannisters were the kings and so it was the most important day that must be planned.

Aunt Dorna took to the girl, traitor or not, mad or not, as if she were her own daughter and began to involve herself in the day-to-day care of her. Uncle Kevan, who loved his wife, could often be seen visiting at night, before dinner with Dorna.

Tyrion had always been much younger than his brother and sister. He had many younger cousins and held babies but he had never had a little brother or sister. Tyrion thought of how much he missed his brother Jaime and how Jaime had always protected him. So, Tyrion decided this baby would be his sister and he would be Jaime to her and show her care and consideration. After all, where would he be without his brother’s love?

So, one night, he approached the nursery and knocked on the nursery door, while the guard looked at him smirking. When Ava opened the door, he saw how willowy and thin she was and how lovely. Her skin was as white as milk and seemed as soft as silk. Her hair was as silver as moonlight and her eyes were the purple of summer sunsets. She smiled slightly looking down at him in the doorway.

“Good evening, my Lord,” she said.

“Good evening, I was wondering if I may I visit with the baby? If she is to be living here, I was hoping to get to know her. This will be her home as much as any of ours.”

She smiled, “Aye, my Lord Tyrion. Come and see the Princess… I mean my lady, Daenerys.”

When Tywin returned from King’s Landing several months later, he found Ava and Daenerys as firmly in place at Casterly Rock as anyone of his brothers and their family.

 

Tyrion found himself completely enchanted with the small child and as she grew, he grew in affection for her. As the years passed, it was unusual to find him without her tiny arms around his neck or trailing behind him. Ava started to get comfortable and would leave Tyrion in charge of her care. As the girl became a toddler and a small child, Lord Tywin found a suitable guard to make sure no trouble befell her with a fearsome soldier with a hideous burned face, the second son to a loyal house, Sandor Clegane. Tyrion referred to him as The Hound.

Over the years, Tyrion taught her to swim, to climb the rocks, and all the secret passageways he had found in Casterly Rock. When Tyrion cried on his bed for Tysha and the cruelty of his father, Dany was his only companion. Dany climbed up beside him on his bed and gave him messy baby girl kisses. It did not lessen the pain but he giggled at how sorry she seemed with no understanding as to why he was sad.

When Dany was three, Uncle Gerion taught her to ride. Dany loved horses and riding and took to it like everything. She was good at sewing and Aunt Dorna would praise her. She was good at dancing and saying her prayers. She was good at studies, especially math, history, and Valyrian. Dany had a natural ability for languages and even at a young age was much more fluent than Tyrion. Tyrion taught her to read. Often they could be found reading stories about dragons or history in the corner of the library or his room. Ava would laugh and say that they would go blind from reading so much but it never stopped them.

He noticed Dany even had charmed his father. Sometimes, Tywin would correct her Valyrian or tell her to sit straight but he did it with a softness reserved for the little girl. Dany always did exactly as he asked. She never questioned him. Daenerys was always obedient, always good, always greedy for his approval.

Even Cersei loved the girl and when she would try to be kind but Tyrion could see a jealousy that grew with Dany as she grew bigger. After all, one day she might marry Joff and be Queen. Princess Myrcella considered her as a cousin as did Tommen and when they came to Casterly Rock the nursery would be full and happy with their laughter. Tyrion would find himself in the nursery as Myrcella would direct him to drink tea and eat cakes with her bears and lions.

The only person who was cruel to her was her future betrothed Prince Joffrey. Tyrion tried to stop him from his cruelty but the boy would not be deterred. King Robert would think it was funny when Joff would push her or pinch her. After Joff’s visits, Tyrion would find himself hoping that Robert send Dany to the Silent Sisters because her life would be very difficult as Joff’s queen.

When Dany was four, it became clear that Uncle Gerion was in love with Ava. Of course, he could not marry a lowborn servant of an overthrown house. But Ava was soon expecting. She died when Dany was five bringing into the world a silver-haired green-eyed baby named, Joy. Uncle Gerion was insulted when Lord Tywin buried Ava with the servants in the crypt and not family. Tyrion realized later it was then his Uncle Gerion’s heart was hardened against his brother.

 

When Dany was six, a dancing instructor from Lannisport was sent to teach her. While she learned to dance, Tyrion was her favorite dance partner. However, this did not last long. When she outgrew him, Tyrion stopped dancing with her. Dany asked him why and all he said, “It is grotesque.”

 

When Tyrion turned eighteen and Dany was seven, Uncle Gerion went on an adventure to Valyria to find Brightroar. Tyrion had begged to go but his father would not allow it. When he went to the library in anger, he found Dany there. She had spoken to him, “I am glad you aren’t going to Valyria. I prayed to the Mother and the Father that you would stay here with me.”

Tyrion felt a wave of anger at his father’s ward that he had never felt before. It tightened his throat and made his sight darken. He spoke, “Why would you do such a stupid thing? I hate it here.”

Dany looked hurt by his words and looked at her feet. She spoke, eyes downcast, “I did not want to be here without you. Without you, it would be unbearable here. I would have only Lady Dorna and her prayers and Joy who is just a baby.”

Suddenly, Tyrion remembered what it was like when Jaime had left and gone to Crakehall. He had said a few prayers to the Warrior but who was the Warrior compared to the wishes of Tywin Lannister. Tyrion held his arms out and hugged Dany when she stepped into them. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you again. I promise you will be the one to leave me.”

In that same year, Tyrion was given the glorious title of the Master of the Cisterns and Drains. To lighten his duties, sometimes he would sometimes take Dany with him on his rounds. It was on one of these trips while they were inspecting a sewer that ran into the sea, they found a large cave. Dany had pleaded to explore it but Tyrion was firm in his refusal. He did not have a map of where the cave led and he did not want to get trapped or lost.

Dany had looked at Tyrion saying, “ I dreamed of this cave.”

And with that, she scampered away in the darkness of the hole, with just a torch. Against his better judgment and with fear that his father’s ward would hurt herself, he followed the light carefully certain a den of mountain lions would rend them to pieces. After half an hour, Tyrion found her in a small crack below a nest of sorts. “What are you doing? Come on, Dany. I am tired of playing chase. We need to leave and see if we can find our way back.”
“Look, Tyrion.”

In the torchlight, Dany had gathered three large shiny stones in her dress. On closer inspection, Tyrion marveled at the deep colors, one as red like rubies and flame, a green one as sparkling as emeralds, and a black one, sharp as obsidian. Then he realized the truth of it. Daenerys had found three dragon eggs.

It took them another hour to find their way out of the cave. When they emerged, they had made a dangerous pact, to keep the knowledge from his father. Tyrion knew he should tell his father but instead, he told her to hide them. “They are yours. They must have come from Queen Rhaena’s Dreamfyre or some other Targaryen. They have been waiting for you to find for over two hundred years. You are the rightful owner. Take them to your room and hide them. We will find a chest later to keep them safe enough.”

************

"My Lord, you must listen to me. Focus on my voice. Keep on my voice and stay here with me. You were given poison but I am an old woman who has seen poisons stronger than this. Your wife is not well and you must wake to help her. Without you, I fear she will be too unwell.

"I will tell you the story of Queen Rhaena, sister wife to Prince Aegon, and one of the Black Brides of Maegor. She had been invited to the Rock by Lord Lannister and his lady wife. You see, after she helped her brother win the crown, she stayed with the Farmans. However, Queen Rheana had a large company that included a dragon and was eating them out of house and home. So her brother, the new Lord Farman, had asked her to depart. Of course, Queen Rhaena would not stay in a place she was not wanted, so she and her company left.

Now, Queen Rhaena took Lord Farman's brother and sister when she left. The brother was her third husband, Androw. The sister was the infamous adventurer, Elias Farman. But it was rumored that Queen Rhaena enjoyed both brother and sister in her bed, together. Some said she had learned such wickedness from King Maegor who had bedded all three of his Black Brides on one bed. Now, surely my Lord, I would think you would stir with this. After all, you are known for depravity. Are you still here with me?

Anyhow, Lord Lannister invited the Queen and her company to come and enjoy the pleasures of Casterly Rock. Lord Lannister's son and heir was already married but he had a beautiful son, unmarried, golden-haired and strong. I have always imagined him like your brother Jaime. The only thing was this young man was a Hill, born on a third daughter of Lord Reyne. His name was Tyler.

Now, Tyler Hill was lovely, strong, a true knight, who had fought for Prince Aegon. It is said the Queen saw that Lord Lannister wanted a dragon egg and fled before the seduction. But the truth of it was, Queen Rhaena was quite taken with him. It is said she took him to bed soon enough. In fact, soon her husband was sleeping alone and Tyler was the lucky man between Lady Elias and Queen Rhaena.

Of course, their happiness only lasted briefly. Love often leads to jealousy and desire only hurries the process. Before long, Tyler Hill was seen in the bed of Lady Elias with or without Queen Rhaena. It was said that Lady Elias loved him and had him get a boat so they could sail the Sunset Sea, together. Queen Rhaena found out and threatened the boy. Lady Elias swore she had only loved her Queen but there were those who said she did that so Tyler would be spared dragon fire. Queen Rhaena took her company further east but not before she cursed the Lannister saying the Targaryens would lose the Iron Throne before they wed a Lannister. Tyler was sent to his mother's people at Castamere.

******************

When Dany was nine, Tywin instructed Tyrion to find the Dany a Septa, who could tutor her and instruct her in the ways of a lady and a good wife. Tyrion knew there was a Motherhouse in Lannisport but he wanted a bit of a break so he went to the Motherhouse in the Marbrand lands where the Reynes one ruled. Tyrion spent the night and talked to the Mother of the House. She brought forth two old women. One was Septa Agnes, a mean-faced, ancient woman with a hairy chin, who had told young Lord Tyrion, that prayers and manners should be beaten into girls to counter the inherent wickedness in womankind. The other was an old woman with clear eyes of blue and a gentle smile who said little named Septa Rowena. Of the two, Tyrion chose Septa Rowena.

He had chosen Septa Rowena because the Head Septa had said she studied in Oldtown, as well as the Motherhouse near Lord Harroway’s Town. Septa had a better knowledge of Valyrian than he did and had studied much history of the conversion of the First Men. When Tyrion spoke to her in the garden, it became apparent that Septa Rowena was well-read and a learned woman. She had strong features, adorned with wrinkles of age and clear blue eyes, as well as a few long silver hairs on her chin, but not as many as most of the Septas. When Tyrion had asked her if she would take the position in Casterly Rock, she had said, “It would be my privilege, my lord.”

On the road home, they passed a well that seemed well cared for, with flowers at the base of the moss-covered stones. Tyrion asked, “What is this place?”

Septa Rowena dismounted from her horse with the care that a woman her age might but with familiarity with horses that his Septas never had.

She walked to the well after tying her horse to a tree branch to graze, “It is said a great battle was fought here between the First Men and the Andals. The leader of the First Men was a witch, a great seer of the Children of the Forest. This was her magical well and it was surrounded by a great grove of weirwoods. The Andals cut the grove down and the witch lost her power but they did not fill her well for it had powerful magic.”

“What magic?” Tyrion said, as if he was still a boy in the nursery and not a man grown.

“It could give a man the strength to be a great warrior, to see his fate, to not tire for a whole day. Some say it gave Loreon the First, the strength to be King. But it is also cursed. The witch cursed it and any man who drinks it not worthy will die.”

 

Tyrion laughed and the Septa looked at him with knowing eyes and smiled. “Would you like to drink, my lord?”

Tyrion laughed, “I don’t believe in superstions.”

The Septa laughed, “A wise choice, my Lord. But it is true that the First Men and the Old Ways linger here more in the lands of Castamere more than in most of the Westerlands. Some say there is an Old Woman of the Well, a Lady of the Waters, A Crone, who emerges here at certain times of the year and she waits for the warrior who will wreak revenge on the Andals who killed her.”

Tyrion spoke, “She has waited a long time for her revenge. Centuries...It may be that by the time her revenge comes no one will know what she was so angry at.”

The Septa laughed, “Tis true, Lord. But she will have her revenge all the same. She does not care as long as blood is spilled for blood. That is the Old Way.”

Tyrion did not think of this conversation until much later. Both Aunt Dorna and Uncle Kevan approved of Tyrion’s choice in a Septa. When Tywin returned, he looked over the woman with a cursory glance and nodded his approval.

Tyrion was glad when Septa Rowena arrived that Dany seemed quite charmed by the woman. Dany learned religion and prayers, as well as often speaking Valyrian to Septa Rowena. Dany also began to read more histories, science, philosophy instead of just romances. With Septa’s influence, Dany became a much better conversationalist. Once, he overheard speaking of the rights woman had under the First Men, to wield a sword, to lead troops, to rule as chieftain, to be priests. Tyrion was proud of the knowledge that the Septa had and glad she was teaching Dany to be strong as a woman, stronger than most even noblewoman. After all, Cersei had not had a Septa who taught her such almost sacrilegious ideas. But Tyrion thought if Dany was to marry Joff, she would need as much help as she could get.

 

Life went on as it always had. When Dany learned something new, she would find Tyrion to tell him the news. When Tyrion came home drunk, Dany helped him get to bed without his father seeing him. Months passed and years did as well.

Septa Rowena made herself indispensable. When Dany was eleven, a fever hit Casterly Rock. Aunt Dorna and Dany both became very ill. The Maester said there was very little that could be done but Septa Rowena brewed a potion from the herbs in the woods and the fevers broke. When asked how she had come by such knowledge, she stated that the Motherhouse in Oldtown was progressive and had Maesters come to teach them things sometimes, like herbal lore. It did not make her friends with the Maester but House Lannister was grateful.

When Dany was thirteen, Aunt Genna came to visit. On the second morning of her visit, Dany was late coming downstairs for breakfast. Dany was never late and Tyrion was about to go see if she was ill. Or worse, maybe Aunt Genna had found the dragon eggs. When Aunt Genna finally came downstairs, she whispered something in his father’s ear. Tyrion was certain she found the dragon eggs and that they both would be punished. After all, dragon eggs were priceless and Tyrion had given them to a traitor child without asking his father’s permission. Tywin had wiped his lips and set his fork and knife down. Looking directly at Tyrion with his cold green eyes, Tyrion waited to hear about his treason. Instead, Tywin said, “You will need to pack. We are headed to King’s Landing. Lady Daenerys has bled. Now, the King will need to see her.”

The ride to King’s Landing was filled with smallfolk coming out along the Goldroad to see the last Targaryen princess. Dany would wave from her carriage. She had longed to ride but Tywin would not hear it. So, Tyrion and Dany road together to King Robert and his judgment. On the second day, she had brought the dragon eggs in a chest with books. Tyrion had thought it reckless but she had explained she could not leave them in Casterly Rock to be found by a scullery maid.

It had not just been the smallfolk who were eager to see her. The lords and ladies of the halls and castles that they stayed in were also eager to meet the Lady Daenerys. Lord Penrose tried to explain how they were sixth cousins once removed. Lord Blackwood was eager to show her the great dead tree that the Brackens had poisoned, and Lord Webber of the Reach stammered every time he looked at Dany.

Tyrion spent the entire trip in a foul mood, drinking when he could. He had known this had been her destiny since birth; to marry Joff but he could not wonder what kind of life she would be married to the Prince. He wondered if he dared to help her escape to Essos and wondered what she would do there if he could even get here there. She had no skills, no guile, no ability to survive. Reluctantly, Tyrion realized she was safer here with them than out in a world she could not survive in. He wished he was braver and could take the dragon eggs, sell them, and go with her to Essos and freedom, but even if he was cruelly treated by his father, Tyrion could not see how they would survive without House Lannister and the safety it offered.

King Robert roared when he saw her and demanded she cover her gods-be-damned silver hair or he would shave it. So, Dany wore a scarf like a Septa. Then King Robert bellowed drunkenly to send her to the Silent Sisters and be done with it. Queen Cersei nodded in agreement with her husband and seemed glad to send Dany to the Silent Sisters and Tyrion could see the jealousy in her eyes.

Tyrion thought that he would miss Dany very much when she was sent to the Motherhouse. He had almost regretted wishing for it for so long, thinking it would be better than to be Queen. At least as Queen, he could see her. Maybe he could stay in King’s Landing and be her advisor.

Only Jon Arryn whispered caution.

 

It was halfway in the feast and Robert was drunk. When Robert stood up and said Lady Daenerys would not marry his son but his good brother. At first, Tyrion looked at Renly who was twenty and was more apt to fondle squires than maids. What cruelty was this he had thought but it was about that time when he realized the room was looking at him? The King had said good bother and that meant him. Tyrion looked at Jon Arryn who seemed horrified and his father who was unreadable but Tyrion swore he could see the hint of a smile.

Dany looked at her plate. She had spent the entire feast, as quiet as possible, as if she could be quiet enough she might disappear completely. She was looking at her plate. For a second, she glanced at him and smiled. Her eyes were hopeful. With the skill of a mummer, she picked her handkerchief and started to cry softly into it. This made the King even more certain this would be his course of action. Jon Arryn tried to sway it but the fake tears Dany cried sealed the deal.

Tyrion thought the King must have been very drunk to make such a rash decision but Tywin would not let such an opportunity be wasted. She was still a Targaryen, even if she had no lands, she was a noblewoman with the blood of Kings. Tywin had offered a dozen marriage proposals and none had been accepted. Danaerys Targaryen would be more than enough for a wife for Tyrion Lannister

Regardless Robert thought this to be delightful and Tyrion saw the hatred that the KIng had for the Targaryens to saddle her with him, a mishappen dwarf known for drunkenness and whoring. What kind of husband would he be? What sort of perversities and cruelties would she be exposed to from such a man?

Tyrion knew that Dany had thought he was the best option for her. He had seen it in her eyes but he did not know if he had the same fate. After all, he loved her like a sister. He did not feel any desire for her. She was still a child. Of course, the wedding could be held in a few years.

 

But the King seemed preoccupied with it and demanded the girl be married immediately. It delighted him to see her humiliated and hurt. Jon Arryn suggested that the couple be married in the sept inside Maegor’s Holdfast away from court and the reminder that less than a generation her father had sat on the throne and her ancestors had ruled. A simple ceremony with few guests. Robert stated it could be done the very next day. Tyrion thought to protest but was afraid that any word from him might make it be even sooner.

Dany was shuffled off to her rooms and Tyrion drank several more pitchers of wine.

He woke to his wedding day with a splitting headache. When his brother, Jaime, brought him his wedding clothes, fine things of gold and crimson, Tyrion had raised an eyebrow, “Where did father get these?”

“Someone must have worked all night…”

They had laughed. Tyrion had looked at his brother, “Do you think there is a way out of it? For her sake? She is just a child and like a sister to me.”

Jaime had laughed but it sounded sad, “Father seems as excited as the King. I know she is young but she is pretty. When she grows a bit, she will be beautiful. She is a tiny thing. But, surely the Imp can bed her. I’ve seen some of the whores in your bed. She is much better.”

“What about that she is like my little sister? I may not be able to...”

Jaime rubbed his chin, “Targaryens took their sisters as wives. She is not your sister. Don’t think of her like that. Think of her as your wife. A woman grown. Your wife. The King, Grand Maester Pycelle, Father, the entire Small Council mean to watch to make sure you consummate the damn thing. So, you must. What will you need to finish it?”

Tyrion looked at his brother and let the words sink into his brain. Speaking one word, Tyrion started to get dressed, “Wine.”

Tyrion waited at the altar while he watched his father walk his ward toward him to be wed. Daenerys was in a golden dress with lions stitched on her in three panels. There were golden dragons around the hem. Her hair was up and covered in a golden headdress. She smiled sweetly if uncertainly at him. The dress was tight around her bodice to make her breasts seem larger. Tyrion felt slightly sick.

 

When he put the crimson cloak of Lannister around her shoulders, she knelt down so he would be able to reach. When Tyrion kissed Dany, she closed her eyes and tilted her face to meet his lips. She opened them and smiled saying, “Thank you, husband.

There was a small feast, mostly made up of the retinue that the Lannisters had brought with them to King’s Landing; Aunt Genna and her son Cleos, Addam Marbrand, some Crakehalls, Uncle Kevan, Daven Lannister, as well as the Hound. Of course, the Small Council was there as well as some Stokeworths and some Estermonts. Tyrion noted that Stannis Baratheon looked a particularly foul mood and Renly Baratheon seemed relieved, whispering to his squire, Ser Loras Tyrell.

Dany took his hand and spoke. He realized her eyes were so deep a violet they almost seemed black. “Ty, are you nervous? Are you not happy?”

“No, it’s not nerves. I learned they mean to watch us consummate this. I had hoped to wait a bit to get settled a bit. But I am happy. I have the most beautiful bride in Westeros who I love with all my heart. Remember Dany we will be fine. We must get through this and we will return to the Rock.”

“I am not worried. Septa explained what you will do. You will not hurt me. I trust you, Ty.”

Cersei told me that it would hurt and I would bleed but I would love our children. Aunt Jenna said she was exaggerating and you would be kind.

As the feast dragged on, Tyrion watched Robert get drunker and drunker. The lecherous look in Robert’s eye became more apparent as if he was undressing Dany with his eyes, even though he had a dark-haired buxom maid in his lap, more than eager and willing. In a drunken sneer, Robert called for the bedding, almost drooling, “First, we wed them. Now, let’s bed them. If you cant do it, Imp, Perhaps I should claim the First Night. I could get her nice and ready for anything you might saddle her with!”

Robert said it laughing but the way he licked his lips, made Tyrion realize he was serious. Robert’s son, Prince Joffrey, laughed to see such cruelty from his father.

Sumner Crakehall broke his nose but reached Daenerys first. Jaime had tried to keep several of the more eager men away from his brother’s wife. Daven Lannister caught up with Sumner and kissed her before Addam Marbrand stole her. The Hound got to Daenerys as the last piece of clothing was torn from her, her scarf, and he scooped her up and carried her to her room. No one dared to try and take her from the Hound.

The King had never moved. He was preoccupied with the dark-haired maid in his lap. It was only when Jon Arryn reminded the King that he had wanted to watch the consummation that the King stood.

Tyrion arrived at his room, naked. An eager Lady Stokeworth had been glad to see his member was not dwarf-sized. Dany lay on the bed which had curtains but the curtains were sheer Myrish lace. She seemed anxious and it made her seem her age. Tyrion poured himself another glass of wine before the men filed in. He drank it quickly and scrambled onto the bed so his nakedness and awkward limbs would not be seen by the men who came to watch.

As a servant pulled the curtains shut, Tyrion touched her face, “My lady, I will one day hold Casterly Rock. I will be able to care for you and though you will not be Queen, you will have enough gold to live like one..”

“Ty, I love you. I chose you this because now, I don’t have to leave you. We can be together forever. At Casterly Rock, my only home. I won't leave you.”

Tyrion watched the shadows of the men come into the room, seven of them. Silently, without looking he named them in his head; King Robert, Jon Arryn, Stannis Baratheon, Petyr Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Commander Barristan Selmy, and Tywin Lannister. Tyrion laid her down on the bed. He thought about what Jamie said to not think of her as his sister but his wife. He thinks to himself that the King and his father all wait for him to do this and if he does not, perhaps his father will hurt her. Tywin is a man capable of great cruelty. Maybe that is where Joff gets it.

He tried to get the idea of his father watching him with those cold eyes out of his head. He wondered if they would laugh about this later. Dany’s hair spills over the pillows like moonlight. Tyrion whispers, “Kiss me.”

Tyrion remembered another time his father watched him with Tysha and the sound of silver hitting the stone floor. He speaks roughly to his new wife, more anxious than angry, “Look at me and do not see them.”

He hoped he was not too grotesque and that the men would not whisper of his stunted legs or small arms. They kissed awkwardly, tentatively. With little skills, e tried to use his fingers to make her ready, but he was preoccupied. All Tyrion could hear were jeers of soldiers and coins and watching another soldier take a turn with his wife, Tysha. Looking at the bed, he counted five shadows and knew that Stannis and maybe the Hand had left the spectacle.

When Tyrion closed his eyes, all he could see was Tysha’s red face crying. With his eyes open, he could see Dany, eyes shut tight in expectation of pain. With the resolution of a man facing the hangman’s noose, Tyrion buried himself in her silver hair that smelled of patchouli and cinnamon. With one hand he made himself hard enough and tried to push past the all too familiar shame. This would keep her safe. He kissed her and thought of when she fell in the hall of Heroes or when he took her in the cisterns and she found her dragon eggs, petrified and beautiful. He thought about the dragon eggs that she kept near the fire. He thought about how her brother was called the Beggar King in Essos. And how she had killed her mother and how she would do anything to please his father, to please him. Perhaps, he did not want her to please him.

 

He wondered what it might be like to not bed her in front of this crowd.

 

When he pushed into her, Tyrion felt a very old wound on his heart rip open again and bleed bitterness in his soul. When he finished, Tyrion kissed his wife on her forehead. Then, he looked up through the simple silk curtain, only his father and Grand Maester Pycelle remained. When they saw him staring, they took their leave without saying a word, shutting the door with a loud echo.

When they left, Tyrion looked at his wife. “Are you hurt? How do you feel? Is there any pain?”

“I don’t think so. I think I am fine.”

Dany reached out to him, thin arms, pale, as if she wanted him to kiss her. and Tyrion felt that he might be sick. Jumping off the bed, Tyrion put his pants on and spoke, climbing back into bed, “I am sorry. It should not have been like that. It will not be again, I swear. We will return to Casterly Rock as soon as we can.”

“It is fine. Your father will be pleased. I think he is. You are married. He told me this morning that I have been a good ward and would be a good wife.”

Tyrion continued, feeling angry at the guilt in his voice, “ I will find you some moon tea so we can make sure there will be no baby.”

Suddenly, Dany’s voice changed, sadness crept around the edges, “Ty, you don’t want a baby… with me?”

“Not now, you are too small. It might kill you. Not this way.”

Tyrion slept on the couch and left Dany alone with her thoughts.

*******

My Lord, look at how easy you rest. Surely you cannot leave my good lady Daenerys did I ever tell you the story of the morning of your wedding night. I thought you were mistreated not as mistreated as some but pain is still pain, nonetheless. We all experience some of it and we wear it every day like a coat. I was there with her. By then, she was my girl as much as any I would have given birth to. She has always been easy to love and when she was young, all she wanted was love. I worried about her. I have seen girls like her, noble, mistreated, men getting carried away and things turning badly. Or worse, men punishing women like her for being born to the wrong House, being on the wrong side of the war. I did not know if your father would keep her safe. I did not know if you were strong enough to keep her safe.

I checked in on you that night. You might not know. I saw you sleeping on the couch and her in bed. But she seemed sleeping peaceful enough.

In the morning, she told me that you paid your man, Clegane, to keep her safe in the bedding. She said that you kissed her sweetly and told her she was safe as your wife. I remember looking at her and thinking all would be well. You may be small but you would be clever and strong enough to protect her.

Then, she told me of the moon tea and how you told her she was too young and I knew you would care for her.

I think that was the first day I saw how good you might be together. A lion might be strong enough with a dragon if there is love.

******************

They left for Casterly Rock two days later. On the ride home, Tyrion let his wife ride her horse and she seemed so much happier than on the earlier journey. The smallfolk still gathered and grew even bolder, handing her wooden carvings of dragons and bouquets of flowers. Daven Lannister, Addam Marbrand, and the Hound escorted them home. Addam seemed upset about the effect Lady Daenerys had on the smallfolk but Daven seemed to be besotted by his cousin’s new wife. Sometimes, watching them, Tyrion wondered if she might be better suited for a warrior than a dwarf. By the time they reached Casterly Rock, Daven had sworn himself to be her sworn shield, much to the chagrin of his father, Stafford Lannister.

Every night, he would sleep beside her but Tyrion did not touch her again. He would kiss her on the forehead and turn and sleep.

As the days passed, Tyrion knew he loved his beautiful, young bride. He loved the way her maids brushed her hair in the morning. He loved the way she rode her silver mare he had bought her as a bridal present around the yard at Casterly Rock. He loved the way she would lift her eyebrow at him questioning. He loved the way she clapped prettily when men sparred in the yard.

Tyrion loved the silver melody of her laugh and he loved the fact that only he could make her truly laugh. He loved watching her swim in the blue-grey waters of the Sunset Sea and sitting by her at night in the firelight.

 

But no matter how much Tyrion loved his young wife the matter of their wedding night had changed him. He felt no desire for her, only shame and guilt. He brushed it off that she was so young but sometimes he woke to tightness in his chest and the shadow of seven men on his shoulder, jeering and wishing to hurt Dany.

One morning, he woke hard against her. His wife had moved against him softly. But Tyrion had turned over quickly ashamed and sick to his stomach. It was just with her. Tyrion still frequented the brothels of Lannisport at least weekly. But, even there, he came to be known by the owners as a man who liked only blondes and red-heads, never dark-haired and nothing with exotic silver.

If Tyrion’s lack of sexual attraction bothered Dany, she made little mention of it. In fact, it seemed that Daenerys Targaryen had grown even closer to her husband since their wedding. She seemed to look up to him, adore him. If she felt any concern that he would not bed her, Dany never appeared upset or questioned it. Tyrion had taken that as a relief. Regardless of how his wife grew more lovely every day, Tyrion found he could not see her as anything but a sister and that he could not find the desire for her. Though when stong young knights like Daven Lannister would try to vie for her attentions and she only had eyes for him, Tyrion had to admit that it made him feel a way he had never felt before.

Shortly before her birthday, he woke to Dany putting the dragon eggs near the hearth, almost in the fire.

“What are you doing?’ he asked.

Smiling at him, Lady Daenerys Lannister said, “It sounds silly. But it’s like they tell me that they want the fire.”

Tyrion smiled as he wondered on her words, “Come to bed, Dany. Tell your Septa in the morning. Maybe, she will have prayers.”

“I already have. It was Rowena who said to listen to the voices. It was she who said they crave the fire. Dragons are creatures of Fire. Fire and Blood.”

Tyrion thought it strange that a septa would allow such superstitious thoughts but Septa Rowena was a strange Septa. After all, the dragon eggs were more stone than anything else, priceless stone. How could they crave anything? Why put anything so valuable next to a fire. But when he saw her violet eyes afire and her smile, climbing into bed, Tyrion felt his smile and knew he would allow her whatever her heart wanted that he could give her.

When Lady Daenerys was fourteen, Queen Cersei and her children came to Casterly Rock to celebrate Prince Joffrey’s name day. Before they arrived, Tyrion reminded the Hound to keep a close eye on his wife. The Hound spoke, “There are certain men I cannot protect the Lady from.”

“Who would those be?”

“The Prince.”

“I do not ask that you hurt him. Just keep an eye out for my wife and let me know. I will raise a hand, if necessary.”

Lord Tywin held a small tourney to celebrate Prince Joff’s name day. Daven Lannister, Tyrion’s cousin, approached Daenerys to see if he could wear her favor. Dany looked to Tyrion and he nodded. In the tourney, Daven Lannister was unstoppable with a skill that Tyrion had not seen, first defeating Jaime, and ultimately defeating Loras Tyrell. Daenerys was beaming with such beauty when Daven crowned her with the daisy crown as the Queen of Love and Beauty. Everyone cheered and commented on how lovely the bride of Tyrion Lannister looked. The two faces who did not smile were Prince Joff and Queen Cersei. No one else noticed but Tyrion had.

Before the next day, word came from the King that Jon Arryn was dead. The King demanded that his wife and children return to King’s Landing immediately. The King and his family were heading to the North to Winterfell. King Robert wanted his once-foster brother, Ned Stark, would take the role of Hand to the King. Tyrion had always longed to see the Wall. He begged his father Lord Tywin if he might accompany his sister and her children with his wife and a small retinue of men to the North and the Wall with the King. Lord Tywin seemed annoyed that his good son had not asked him to the Hand, so he had assented and written a note, asking the King to allow Tyrion to accompany them.

When they arrived in King’s Landing, King Robert had not seemed likely to allow them to go with him. But after reading the letter, King Robert had assented.

Dany and Tyrion were placed in the back of the caravan to the North. Dany must keep her head covered and keep out of the way of the King. Neither she nor Tyrion minded the back or the lack of consideration from the Royal Family. In fact, they preferred it. Tyrion was free to read and stop in brothels for wine and whores and Dany was free to talk to the smallfolk, ride her horse and speak with her Septa. Sometimes, she would play with Tommen or Myrcella but she did try to keep out of the King and Joff’s sight. Several times a day, Jaime would ride to the back to talk with his brother or eat lunch with them. Sometimes, Jaime and Dany would take their horses for a ride across the long lonely Northern countryside.

Tyrion found beautiful scarves for her to tie her hair in; Myrish lace, Merenese silk, Braavosi velvet, hand-dyed Tyroshi head wraps. But every night, he enjoyed watching her unwrap her hair before bed. Slowly, it became a ritual of sorts for him to watch her unwind her hair in the firelight before bed. But regardless of how he would watch her, Tyrion felt deep shame at even the thought of bedding her.

When they reached Winterfell, they were introduced to Lord and Lady Stark and all their children. Dany had never been around many people her age and because of that, she often had a much more mature nature. However, Tyrion could see she wanted to be close to Stark’s eldest daughter Sansa. At first, Sansa seemed bewitched by the romantic notion of being friends with a princess who lost her crown but when she saw the Queen and Prince Joff’s attitude toward Dany, Sansa’s demeanor changed to a coldness. Lady Catelyn and the girl’s Septa chastised her but the Stark girl had grown fond of the Prince and could not be chided into befriending Dany.

Tyrion thought the trip might be very lonely for his wife. But he found himself wrong.

Dany seemed to get on much better with the Stark boys. The eldest, Robb, was all blushes and stammerings around her. Tyrion knew the boy was no more than fifteen or sixteen but he couldn’t seem to speak around her at all. Theon Greyjoy, Stark’s ward, had no trouble speaking around Dany but she found him callous and cruel to servants and animals. Dany had no taste for cruelty and could not tolerate it so she tried to avoid speaking with Theon. Brandon, the younger boy, took on his elder brother’s blushes and stuttering as if it were contagious. Brandon even swore that when he would gladly squire for Lord Tyrion to be her sworn knight one day.

Even Lord Stark’s bastard boy, a moody dark-haired youth named Jon, seemed visibly taken with Day. However, Jon was not like his brothers. He did not stutter or blush. Instead, he talked to her like a servant might, clipped sentences, barely looking at her. However, Dany was quickly found in their company among the horses, laughing. Daenerys had a way to make everyone comfortable and at ease, when she wanted to.

On the first night at Winterfell, Tyrion had found himself drunk at the feast. He was watching the King fondle a buxom serving girl on his lap and wondering if he should walk to Winterton and find his own whore. As Tyrion sat there, thinking on whether he deserved one girl or two, he watched the Heir to Winterfell dance awkwardly with his wife. Robb was a handsome boy with dark red hair and strong shoulders. The boy leaned into his wife and whispered something making Dany laugh. Dany covered her mouth when she laughed, hiding it behind her hand. The boy was completely besotted with her. Tyrion's thoughts turned to the tragedy of his marriage to the girl. She had deserved better than him.

As the song finished, he watched Lord Robb escort her over to a table where a dark-haired long-faced, Jon sat, glowering over an ale. Immediately, Tyrion wondered what was being said and almost as if he could imagine the words he understood Robb as the elder brother and heir was trying to get his younger bastard brother to dance with his wife. Tyrion wondered if he should be disgruntled but thought to himself what is a dance between to young people? After all, he would not dance with her and Dany loved to dance.

Tyrion pretended to be interested in his wine. After all, he had seen his wife dance with other men before now. But something about this young couple seemed to light up the room. The boy, Jon, was not an especially good dancer but Dany was. As if the sullenness the Snow boy had was an armor, it fell away in her arms. By the end of the song, Jon Snow was smiling and as bright as Tyrion’s own wife. Tyrion had seen men besotted with his wife but this seemed different. Suddenly, he saw Lord Stark’s brother, Benjen, take the boy outside and return alone.

Dany came back to sit with him at the table. Her face was flushed with exertion and her eyes bright. She took his hand and squeezed it. Kissing his forehead, she spoke, “How do you like Winterfell, Ty?”

“I think the wine is piss. I am going for a walk, Dany. Don’t wait up.”

Tyrion walked into the cold with a jug of the piss wine in one hand. He was drunk and heading to the brothel in the small hamlet outside the keep. On his way out, he saw the Stark bastard, angrily practicing in the yard, alone. Perhaps, it was the drunkenness but Tyrion found a niche in the stable, settled in and watched the boy practice in the cold night. He did not know how long he was out there when Tyrion heard the light tread of his wife’s footsteps.

Tyrion watched her approach Jon Snow with the timidity of a dethroned princess married to a dwarf. She had a pitcher of wine and a glass. Tyrion almost laughed to see her walk quietly across the frozen ground.

Daenerys spoke, “My lord, why do you fight out here alone?”

Jon looked to her voice and set his sword down. He was slightly breathless from the exercise. “I am no lord. Just Jon. My father thought it would be better that I did not linger long in there.”

“Surely, you are a lord, too. Your father is the Lord of Winterfell.”

My brothers are, but I am not. I am a bastard, no lord, Lady Lannister.”

In a moment, Dany blushed and handed him her glass, “Jon, here drink. I apologize for not understanding. Is that why you did not sit at the head table?”

“Lady Catelyn thought it would be better if I did not sit near to the King. She did not want to insult him. Why are you not in the feast?”

Dany laughed, “Lady Catelyn is wrong... The King does not mind bastards. He has half a dozen or more. He minds Targaryens which is why I left.”

 

“You are a Lannister, married to his wife's brother.”

“Targaryen enough. Birth cannot be hidden by a name. The look of my hair and eyes is the truth of it.”

“I could not think why the King minds you. You are the prettiest girl in the Seven Kingdoms.”

She laughed “What do you know Jon Snow? Nothing.”

Tyrion heard her laugh and saw her push her hand against the boy’s chest. Tyrion stared at how his wife’s small pale hand lingered against the bastard’s black tunic. He felt the surge of adrenaline in his chest but he could not look away. Watching them drink wine together, the air between them puffs of smoke, Tyrion almost smiled. The Snow boy was not forward or trying to seduce his wife but somehow even the quiet nature of the boy seemed to push Dany into flirting with him more. Tyrion had never seen Dany flirtatious, or ever act so boldly. In a way, it was like he was watching her transform under the words of this moody young man.

“You are good with a sword,” Dany said touching his arm.

 

In an act of boldness, Tyrion would not think Jon Snow would be capable of. Jon touched the Mereenese scarf, “Why do you cover your hair?”

“The King can’t stand it. He hates the look of it. The King says I must cover it or he will shave it off. It is Targaryen silver and it makes him hate me.”

Tyrion could not hear what Jon said but he watched his wife stand a bit straighter and pull the scarf from her head. Unwinding it in front of him, Tyrion felt the ache in his throat as it tightened. Watching the silver hair tumble freely down her shoulders. She handed Jon the scarf as she ran her fingers through it to smooth it. Dany blushed but looked up into Jon’s eyes and the jealousy Tyrion could not take it any longer. Jon held the scarf in his fist and rubbed it between his fingers, absently. Suddenly, Tyrion heard Septa Rowena call for Dany in the yard. Whatever rebellion Dany might have been thinking the call of her Septa, brought her back to the reality that she was another man’s wife. Dany fled to the voice, leaving the scarf in Jon’s hands.

Tyrion continued to the brothel in Winterton, thinking on his wife.

Over the following days, Daenerys was polite, sweet, obedient, as she had always been but there was an invisible fire burning in her that Jon Snow had lit. Tyrion had wanted to hate the boy but he could not. After all, Dany was so happy. When Dany returned to him, her eyes would be fires and she would have color in her cheeks. There was something sweet about this tragic love. Tyrion wondered if he had loved his wife more would it bother him more. Suddenly, a boy who had never had smiled seemed to always be laughing with his brothers or sisters, or Dany. The boy seemed to be affected by her as well. He would laugh and tease his brothers but his eyes tracked her constantly.

 

A few nights before they departed for the Wall, Tyrion had been in the library, drinking wine and reading some very old books. The King had announced Ned would accept his position in Court as the Hand and Sansa would be betrothed to Joffrey. But the day before, the King and Ned were in the wolfswood hunting and young Bran Stark fell from climbing. The boy was terribly injured and might not wake at all.

As he approached, he heard his wife’s voice in a darkened hallway with the Stark bastard, laughing. When they turned the corner and saw him, it was apparent there was nothing clandestine about them, together and alone. The boy had honor as thick as steel. Jon had just wanted to make sure she was escorted to her room. Briefly, Tyrion had wondered where Septa Rowena was but remembered she was with young Bran.

Even if there had been nothing untoward to Jon walking with his wife, Jon blushed as did Daenerys when they saw him. Tyrion opened the door and invited Jon to drink with him but Jon stated he had to see to his brother and had just wanted to see Lady Lannister safe. Jon kissed her hand and disappeared into the dark. But it was Dany’s eyes who burned and cheeks were bright. Tyrion was her favorite no longer. Lady Daenerys Targaryen Lannister was taken with Jon Snow.

It was she who came to him that night after her maid left her hair down and a large nightshirt. Tyrion had been reading by the fire. She had knelt down next to him, speaking, “Ty, it has been a year and still, no child comes. Your father must think I am faulty. You must bed me. I will die from shame. Don't you want me?”

In a bold move, he had never seen in her, Daenerys had run her fingertips along his jaw and cupped his face. Licking her lips, her eyes were dark in the firelight. “Please, Ty. Please kiss me. Bed me. Please.”

Tyrion wondered if Jon Snow had inflamed his wife’s desire. Jealousy welled up in his small heart. Bitterly, he wondered if she let Jon Snow kiss her. Tyrion could almost see it if he closed his eyes. Somewhere, the anger and the bitterness worked in his blood. Pulling her toward him, his hand fisting her hair, Tyrion kissed her roughly.

When Tyrion Lannister had thought of the first time he would bed his wife, he had thought of it in romantic terms. He had a romantic notion of love and had waited his whole life to be loved by one woman. They had taken their first night together away from them but when he bedded her for real, Tyrion had been certain that it would be sweet. He had promised himself it would be a long sweet, series of sensations; the feel of her skin under his light touch, the way she would move with his skillful kisses, the cry of pleasure in the back of her throat, the smell of her beneath him wanting him, the way she would look at him in the morning.

However, it wasn’t that at all. It was rough, relatively quick, and bitter with jealousy. But with his fingers, Tyrion had made her cry out and shake against him before he finished. As he lay there with her curled against him, Tyrion’s thoughts had cleared and he promised himself that he would be sweet and loving the next time.

That day, as they prepared to leave for the Wall, Dany sought the boy out to see him and speak with him, both of their eyes burning with unspoken feeling. When night came and she laid beside her, Tyrion bedded her roughly. Of course, Dany was a virgin and did not know that it did not have to be this way.

For the entire journey to the Wall, Tyrion watched his wife tease and grow closer to Jon with each passing day. He made sure he bedded her every night in their tent and he became more gentle to work her to crying out loudly. He wondered what the boy thought, shivering in his bedroll alone, hearing Lady Daenerys Lannister cries of passion from her husband’s kisses. He hoped it kept Jon Snow awake.

 

The Hound told him that they escorted men accused of raping women and murder and that Lord Lannister might want to fuck his wife more quietly. Tyrion had laughed, “I have you and six men to keep me safe from them. I will fuck my wife as loudly as I please.”

However, when they arrived at the Wall, Tyrion was frozen with the cold and tired with whatever petty jealousy he felt over a bastard boy destined for the Wall. Jon Snow seemed to be one of the few things that made Dany happy. The boy would be bound to the Wall soon enough and Dany was ever loyal to her vows of matrimony. He had allowed his jealousy to get the better of him. Dany seemed happy at the Wall and glad to meet her great-uncle Aemon who was the Maester. Tyrion and Dany spent many long nights with Jon talking to Maester Aemon. The journey to the Wall had changed his wife. She seemed somehow stronger, quicker to laugh, and even more lovely. She had made both Maester Aemon and Jon promise that they would write to her and that she would empty the prisons of Lannisport for the Wall. Dany was turning into a strong and beautiful woman.

 

On the night before they departed from the Wall, Tyrion was returning to his room, drunk and having pissed off the Wall. He heard his wife’s voice and Jon’s in a darkened alcove. Peering, quietly around the corner, he watched Dany kiss Jon, a soft simple thing but it was full of tenderness and desire. He noticed how Dany opened her mouth slightly and ran her tongue against Jon’s lip but the boy resisted all the feelings he felt for her. Jon pulled away.

Dany took his hand and made promised him to not forget her and to write. Slowly, the boy spoke, “I will never forget you. Never.”

Tyrion hid in the darkness, waiting for further betrayals. There were no more kisses but that one small one but somehow Tyrion felt as if his wife had committed adultery all the same.

When she climbed into bed that night beside him, Dany tried to kiss him but Tyrion turned away and thought of the kiss. In fact, the entire trip back to Winterfell and beyond, he did not touch her. When they reached Winterfell, Septa Rowena told Tyrion that Lady Daenerys was expecting and Maester Luwin confirmed it. Tyrion was overjoyed at the thought of a child but when he kissed his wife, he wondered bitterly if his son would come out with grey eyes.

***************

My Lord. you should wake. I run out of stories to tell. I will tell you the story of Lady Daenerys in Winterfell. She became quite smitten with a Stark boy. It is not her fault entirely. Just as the Targaryens did not prefer Lannisters, they seem to be predisposed for love of the Starks. Prince Jace, the heir to the Iron Throne, was said to love a Stark girl. Queen Alysanne was said to love Alaric Stark and it is rumored that her daughter, Alyssa was fathered by him. Prince Rhaegar ran off with Lyanna Stark.

No one knows why. It could be the blood of Old Valyria calls out when near the magical blood of the First Men. Since the Starks have more of it than most, Targaryens are more apt to desire them. Magic calls to magic. Power calls to power. 

As soon as we arrived, Dany was attracted to young Jon Snow. Now, you may not believe me because I was there and saw how the jealousy burned you. But our girl is a good wife and she was faithful to you the entire time. She would come to me at night, smiling like a fool in love and not even know why. Just being near to him made Lady Daenerys bright. She wanted you to make him your squire and stop him from going to the Wall.She had planned on asking you to go to Lord Stark and say you would ward him and he would not have to go to the Wall. However, the night she hoped to speak to you, Lady Daenerys and the boy were in the wolfswood and she kissed him. My lady told me it felt like her heart was in her throat and her body moved even before she could think. It was the Old Blood of Valyriia. Just like her dreams of the dragon eggs in that cave. It was meant to be. Like calls to like.

I found her crying, certain she was ruined, certain she was wicked. I told her that she was young and sometimes, things happen but that she must be strong and never let that happen again. Lady Danaerys said even though her heart soared when he was near, she must let him go to the Wall. If he was at Casterly Rock, she would not be able to stop herself. Lady Daenerys never asked you to foster him. Because she wanted to be a good and faithful wife.

When she thought he was killed by wildlings she came to me once and said she had killed him by never asking. I told her to leave it be. The boy made his own choices, just as she had. But love is the death of all of us. After all, it was love that made Criston Cole wage war against the woman he once loved. It was love that made Daemon Blackfyre rebel or at least that is what is said. My lord, you and I are too clever for some of the stories that are said. Please wake. Look, the antidote is almost ready....

************

They had reached the Riverlands when they ran into Lady Catelyn Stark and her man. At the Inn of the Crossroads, Lady Catelyn, in a mad state of grief, threatened Tyrion, stating he had tried to kill her son. Tyrion could not even understand the nonsense she was speaking. Lady Catelyn even tried to get men in her father's name to take arms against Lannister men and his wife. It seemed that bloodshed was imminent but Lady Daenerys spoke pulling the scarf she wore for the whole trip from her head.

At first, the glimpse of her silver hair seemed to awe the Riverlanders but then she spoke to the men that Lady Catelyn had roused to her cause, “Ser, you are Lord Frey’s man. Lord Frey is a good man but he was known to love my father, King Aerys II. I believe his son and grandson are named for him. Surely, you would not lay a hand against the only child still living of your lord’s ally. And you ser, you are a Bracken by your shield. My father’s house has always loved and called on the Brackens. They are almost cousins to Targaryens. The Brackens is an ancient and noble house and would not lay hands against a Targaryen, especially now as I am expecting. And you… from House Whent. The Whent’s were gifted Harennhal after we defeated the darkness that was brought there. We did that together. I have heard men say, my brother, Prince Rhaegar loved the Whents and Ser Oswell Whent was one of his most trusted knights. Surely, you would not lay hands against his only sister, soon to be a mother? Now allow me, my dear husband and men to leave and we will not have a drop of blood in this good place."

Tyrion wondered for a moment about who was standing in front of him. But the men put their swords down. They would not draw against her. Not a drop of blood was shed. As the Lannister men helped their lady out of the room, Lord Tyrion spoke to Lady Catelyn. “My lady, it is a mother’s grief that makes yous speak so I do not blame you but I had nothing to do with what you say. God speed and safety on your journey.”

As they rode away, Tyrion thought on what his wife spoke and hoped the King would not hear of it. He was certain that a good deal of it could be seen as treasonous at best. Of course, when they returned to Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin had heard the story a week before they reached the castle. Already, he had sent out men to terrorize the Riverlands as payback for Lady Catelyn raising a hand to strike even the lowest of the Lannisters.

Things happened quickly. Soon, they had received word the King was dead and Lord Stark, the Hand, was arrested for treason. Young Robb Stark began to raise troops to rescue his father. But before long another message came that a newly-crowned King Joffrey had executed Ned Stark. His father had sent word to him to leave Casterly Rock and be the Hand in his stead.

Tyrion had left his wife on a rainy autumn day. She had noticeably pregnant and he had not wanted to leave her. His cousin, Daven, beside her, always protective, had promised to keep her safe. Dany had smiled. He had climbed the small platform erected so he could mount his horse. Tyrion climbed the stairs to the top of the platform so that the men would not see his pregnant wife have to bend down and kiss him goodbye like he was a child.

He stood on the side of the wooden stand and she hugged him. Smiling up at him, she spoke, touching her stomach, “If it is a girl, I will name her Joanna.”

He leaned over and kissed her on her lips. Speaking to her, Tyrion smiled, “If it is a boy name him, Daemon. Let us hope he will give them all hell like his namesake.”

She laughed, “Ty, you do that to spite your father. We can call him Tytos or Jaime.”

“There was a Damon Lannister. But make sure you give him the Valyrian spelling.”

She laughed and he kissed the crown of her head. “Take care, Dany. The Rock is yours. Keep it safe. I will return.”

She smiled, “I know. We will be here when you return.”

The next half a year or so was a blur of the King’s cruelty, Jaime’s captivity, Cersei’s stupidity, court plots, enemy forces drawing close, and bread riots. All information from Casterly Rock stopped and he had no news of his wife. There was only a few bright spots, his newly appointed squire, Podrick Payne, a loyal and sturdy boy, Chataya’s brothel, his niece and nephew, and young Lady Sansa Stark. He did not see Lady Sansa often but when he did, Tyrion would inquire of her health and well-being. Sometimes, he could even make her laugh. Tyrion could tell she had no desire to be King Joff’s bride but she hid that well.

After the Battle of Blackwater, he woke to find his father had returned and taken back his position as Hand. Not only had Tyrion lost his role but when he woke he found his nose was also lost in the war. If not for young Pod, his life would have been lost as well. It was his father that had given him the news that his wife had given birth to an heir, a boy named Damon.

Tyrion had laughed until his stitches bled and felt better than he had in years. His intention was to return to Casterly Rock as soon as he was well enough to ride. His man, the Hound, had disappeared during the Battle of Blackwater and he did not need to remain here if his wife and son were at home. However, something always seemed to come up to keep him from leaving King’s Landing. First, it was to heal. Then, he was to welcome the Martell envoy. Then, there was the time that Lady Sansa caught him in the hallway, her dress had been ripped and she had a large red mark on her face. She was no longer the King’s betrothed. Now, she was just a hostage. Hostage seemed less safe. Something about the sadness in her eyes had made him stay a bit longer.

Finally, Tyrion received a messenger from Casterly Rock. The man had a letter from Dany, as well as a small portrait of his boy. Danaerys wrote of how she had had no word of him since the Battle and was hoping he was well and safe. She spoke of how she had written Maester Aemon and Jon Snow had gone North of the Wall to stop the wildlings and no one had heard from him. She wrote of how the Young Wolf had been wounded at the Crag and married young Jeyne Westerling. Then she spoke of their son, whose hair was so light it was white and she did not know if it would stay silver or turn gold. She spoke how she had named him Daemon but did not have the heart to correct Lord Tywin in the spelling. She told him that it seemed the boy’s eyes would be green but when he was angry, they would darken to violet still.

Happily, Tyrion sent the man back with a chest full of toys and dresses for his wife. He spent hours looking at the small picture of his son and tried to imagine holding him. It was here he was disturbed by his father. Tywin had news.

Lord Tywin spoke the Tyrells had plans to spirit Lady Sansa away and marry her to the heir of Highgarden, Lord Willas. However, now that her younger brothers were killed by the traitor, Theon Greyjoy, Lady Sansa would be heir to Winterfell if something were to happen to her brother, Lord Robb Stark. Lady Sansa and the North were too valuable to allow the Tyrells to control. Lord Tywin spoke, “It is a shame Jaime has been captured but we cannot wait. So, I will marry the girl and the sons I have with her will be Lannisters and they will control the North.”

Tyrion had been so shocked that he found he could not speak. His father had never spoken about marriage before. In less than a week, the marriage was performed. The ceremony was simple, held in the Sept in the Red Keep. There was a feast but a small one. No bedding was called for but as soon as the final course was served, Lord Tywin stood and took his new young wife to his chamber.

In the morning, Sansa came to breakfast, as pale as ever, but Tyrion thought to himself that she would be safer than she had been as the wife of Tywin Lannister. It was over burnt bacon and salt cod of breakfast, Tyrion told his father that he needed some men because he was going to return to Casterly Rock to see his new son. His father allowed him to leave before the King’s wedding to Lady Margaery Tyrell. Lord Tywin gave him the men and the horse. On the day he left, Lord Tywin told him he would take his new bride as well. In a wheelhouse, a pale Lady Sansa sat ready for her journey, Lord Tywin's red-haired prize. Tyrion had not been glad to see her. Already, he could see her intelligent eyes, making a plan to escape. Tyrion had spoken, “Surely, you want to keep her close. She could help soothe your nerves at night, a comfort to you.”

But Tywin glared at his son a warning, “I want her at the Rock. She seems to provoke the King and soon enough, I will come for her. I am giving you thirty men. See that she gets to the Rock.”

They took the Gold road and went through the Northern Reach. Tyrion took care of her during their journey. He ate breakfast and dinner with her and often they would stop so she could have some time to breathe outside that small box. She seemed sad. When they crossed the Blackwater, she asked to step on the bridge and take some air. Tyrion caught her almost contemplating if she could jump in it. He touched her hand gently, “It is rough water here, my lady. But now worries, we will be over it soon enough.”

By the time they reached Deep Den, Sansa had started to get a sour stomach in the mornings. It was there at Deep Den, they heard of Robb Stark and Catelyn Stark’s death at the Red Wedding. Lady Sansa never cried in front of Tyrion but she stopped eating altogether. However, she did not stop getting sick in the morning.

By the time they arrived in Casterly Rock, Tyrion knew what the Maester and Septa Rowena both confirmed that Lady Sansa was pregnant. However, Tyrion was so glad to be home. Dany met him at the gate with his son, Daemon, in her arms, fat and happy baby. Daven, his cousin was long-haired and full-beared, but always faithful to protect Lady Daenerys. Aunt Dorna, Joy, and Lanna were all there. While he had been away, Dany had brought on a new advisor, a dark-haired woman named Maeve. Maeve was a witch who claimed to be from Essos but had a stall in the market of Lannisport. In the last year, she had prophecized the end of the world as well Danaerys Targaryen being the Prince that was Promised. It was said that Maeve could see things that would happen in the fire. Strangely, Dany seemed quite taken with the woman.

When Dany saw Lady Sansa emerge from the wheelhouse, Dany greeted her as if she were family, hugging her warmly. Dany seemed to forget all the cruelty that Sansa had shown her all the years ago. Instead, she had a bath drawn for her and maids to attend to her, as well as Septa Rowena to care for her. When Tyrion had stated Lady Sansa must have men guarding her all day and night, Daenerys had glared at him. But Tyrion had seen the look in her eye and knew Sansa wanted to run.

In his first few days home, Tyrion found he did not like his wife's new advisor. He found her eyes unsettling and her talk of a winter army of the dead coming South unsettling. He tried to convince Daenerys to ask Maeve to leave her service but she would not hear of it.

During the first fortnight of their return to Casterly Rock, it was Daenerys’ care that seemed to at least encourage Sansa to eat. Tyrion still kept knives from Sansa and told the men to keep her from windows. There was more than one way to escape. But it seemed under Dany's kindness and Septa Rowena's skill, Lady Sansa healed and began to eat small amounts and sleep.

One night, Tyrion spoke to Septa Rowena when he found her in the library, "Septa Rowena, I have been looking for you to speak to you since I returned...What do you think of my wife and Maeve?"

"Maeve speaks what the Lady longs to hear. There are always women and men who are easily led by dreams. She has always wished for revenge and a throne even if she did not know. I have loved lady Daenerys since she was a child but she has longed to be Queen. Maeve says she sees it in the fire. Maeve says she sees dragons and blood. Maeve says Lady Daenerys is the Prince who was Promised who will defeat the darkness with fire... But between you and me, my Lord, I think Maeve is full of shit and leading our lady down a dark road. Who needs a crown if they are the ruler of Casterly Rock?"

Tyrion found himself thinking he was surrounded by mad women and the sea. It was almost another week before they received word that King Joffrey Baratheon was dead from poisoning. A few days later, they received word that Tywin Lannister was dead. It was also suspected that Lord Tywin had been poisoned. All Tyrion could think was he was glad to be far away from Cersei’s wrath and so far away he could have no blame. He found it odd that he was not sad about his father’s death. In fact, when he found Dany crying softly in the Hall of Heroes, he gathered her in his arms and wondered how she could cry for Tywin but he could not.

It was only three days afterword that his father had died when Sansa came to him. Speaking with as much authority as she could muster, Sansa spoke evenly in her crimson-red dress, "I want to leave."

Tyrion had expected a conversation like this but was a bit surprised it had only taken her three days to find the courage to make a request like this. Tyrion spoke, "My lady, where will you go?"

"To the North.. To Winterfell."

Tyrion poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her. He did not like to talk business without wine, "The Boltons hold it. And I do not think they will give it back to you. Not easily."

"It is mine by right. Starks have ruled Winterfell for centuries."

"Ahh.. but you are no Stark. You are a Lannister. I saw my father marry you in a sept. And right is just who has the strength to take a castle and hold it. Look at my wife. In another world, she might be Queen."

Sansa spoke defiantly, but her voice quivered with emotion, "I am no Lannister."

"My lady, I am sorry for so many of my recently departed father's action but he married you and filled you with his seed. Whatever comes from your legs will be my brother or sister. It will both Lannister and Stark, but its name will be Lannister to be certain."

At that, Sansa almost looked like she was going to cry. Tyrion had enough with women crying. Gently, he took her hand, “Sansa, I will not lie to you. I never have and I will not do it now. When you deliver the baby, you will have the gold and men of Casterly Rock behind you and we will reclaim the North for you and the child. I am sick of sorrow. But you must eat and smile and get strong so that the child will come and be well. I know you have been ill-treated but not all Lannisters are bad. After all, you and I and Dany are all Lannisters and we are not so bad.”

**************************

My lord, drink this now. They say your wife has begun to burn the witch Maeve for treason. Your cousin, Daven is trying to keep her from the fire but she has gone in with her dragon eggs. I am sorry but your son wakes and I fear to leave you. I cannot do anything for madness but I might be able to heal you. Maybe there is magic left to save her. Stranger things have happened. My lord, please wake. I have one more story and it is about healing. I have kept my secrets close but if you die then I still will be the only one who knows it anyway.

My name is Rowena and has been for years but before that I had several names. The one that would be most important to you is my birth name. My birth name was Cyrelle. Cyrelle Tarbeck though my mother made us think we were more Reyne than anything. I was a girl when your father came to throw down Tarbeck Hall and destroy my mother, once and for all. I was fifteen and a noble girl, a silly pretty thing who was to be married in the year. I was a virgin and never even been kissed. Your father gave me and my sister to his men. They raped us for hours or at least, it seemed like hours. I watched them put my father and brother's heads on pikes and throw my sister's small son in the well. Sometimes, I still wake to her screams. She screamed until she went hoarse.

After the raping, the screaming, the burning, the blood, we were given to the Silent Sisters. The first thing my sister did was kill herself. We found her hanging from an apple tree at the Motherhouse. I remember wishing I could cry for her but I had no more tears. All I knew was I wanted to live, to survive. For years, I studied and learned as a Silent Sisters, quietly doing penance for being to the wrong family, caring for the dead, learning how bodies work by cutting them open, seeing how people work on the inside. My Lord Tyrion, do you know in all of the Seven Kingdoms there is only one school for us? It is in Oldtown and even Maesters come to learn from us how human bodies work. They hover and watch, never touching but watching, speaking at us when we can never reply.

I was in my thirties when I met him. He was still an acolyte but he had five links in his chain. His name was Marq and it was he who seduced me. He had learned our sign language and he was hungry to learn all the secrets the human body and mind could hold. Catching me alone, he would sign questions, compliments, jokes. First, he seduced me into speaking. Soon enough, he had seduced me in all the other ways. I was in love and so was he. When he asked me to run away, I realized I already had. Does that even make sense? I loved him so much.

We ran away to Essos. First Pentos, Then Lys. Then Tyrosh. I was a healer and he a learned man. Finally, we settled in Braavos. He worked in the Great Library and I was a healer. He would bring books home to me. We were happy in our sturdy house by the Canal. Fifteen years, we were happy and learning. I dreamed of a baby to make a pair of us a trio but a baby never came. In my heart, I knew Tywin Lannister's men had ruined me long ago. But Marq didn't mind. He loved me anyway. My hair went from blonde to grey in those happy years in Braavos but he grew sick and there was nothing I could do for him. When he died in our bed, I did not want to stay in our house. So I came back. After all, I had no children and where would I go, an old widow? I was born in the Westerlands and I would die here. So I forged a note saying I was from the Motherhouse in the Vale and showed up at the old Motherhouse near Castamere. No one checked. I had silver and gold to pay my keep at the Motherhouse as well as a skilled hear. They kept me gladly. Do you know they never questioned me? Not even once....

One day you came and I thought perhaps House Reyne might have revenge on House Lannister. I thought of revenge for all the men, women, and children from House Reyne and House Tarbeck who died that day. I thought of my sister, her son, my brothers. Finally, I thought I would be able to get revenge for my people, for my mother, for my broken womb, for my tragedy. The first few months, I dreamed of how I would poison Tywin Lannister but that was not enough, I wanted to kill his grandsons and his sons and all of them. I wanted to burn Casterly Rock to the ground.

However, when I arrived I saw Lady Dany, a skinny thing, and how much she needed me. There was Lady Dorna and her love of prayer, baby Joy and her sweet laugh. There was your kind Uncle Kevan and your dashing brother Jaime. And there was you with your broken heart and your desire to be loved. I had spent years healing people and killing the Lannister would not bring my brother back or my uncles. It would not bring back my sweet baby nephew from down a well. It would not do anything except hurt more people and I had spent a lifetime trying to heal pain. Revenge seemed like something I should do but I did not have the heart for it.

Instead, I wanted to heal and teach, teach Lady Daenerys her prayers and her manners, heal the blacksmith when his stomach is sour, or when a Lannister woman is in childbirth and she needs something to ease her pain. I wanted to heal my Lady Daenerys with love and I wanted to heal you. Because what is revenge compared to healing. It is shit. Now, drink this, my Lord, and get up.

*********************

A few nights ago, Lady Maeve, as Dany had taken to calling her, had come to his study with wine and fruit. She had poured him a glass and stood there. Tyrion had always found himself uncomfortable in her gaze and so gulped the wine in the hopes she would leave. There was a strange taste to the wine and a burning. He had spit it out and stood up. But as he stood, he felt the floor fall away. Somewhere he heard a woman scream. Far away he heard there must be a sacrifice. You are not the dark-haired man in the fire.

It was then the darkness came........

*********************

Somewhere in the darkness he heard the voice of Septa Rowena, gentle, "Do you remember the well we went to all the years ago? My lord, here is a drink like the water in the well. Let us see if you are worthy. Let us see if you are strong. Come now, Lord Tyrion. Drink.

It was Septa Rowena’s face he woke to. Smiling, the old woman spoke to him, "I am surprisingly glad to see you awake, my Lord. It seems the Lady Maeve, a witch, poisoned you but it seems you are well enough now.

Tyrion looked over at the other bed It was Daemon. His son stirred. Septa spoke again, "Your son is fine. He is just sleeping. Now, come we must go to your wife. She has made a huge pyre to burn the treasonous witch but she has walked in it with her dragon eggs. There is strange magic afoot. I have sent Young Pod and Lady Sansa to watch the fire but not too near."

A Lannister soldier picked him up because he was still too weak to stand, never mind to walk. Septa Rowena walked next to him, keeping the pace brisk. When they reached the yard, Tyrion was momentarily blinded by the bright sky and the sunlight. The air was hot and he could see bits of ash, raining down from the sky. Amid the burnt logs and the ash was his wife. Her hair had been burned off her head, as had the clothes from her body. She was covered in blackened soot but besides that, she did not seem burned but Tyrion saw the dried blood on her leg and wondered if she might have lost a baby or was it her monthly time. There was something red in her arms but he could not make it out.

Tyrion wondered how did she survive. Gathered around the smoldering burn pile were Daven, Pod, Sansa and other members of the Lannister household. It was his Aunt Dorna who spoke in wonder, "Dear Gods, she has three baby dragons."

Sure enough, Dany emerged from the fire with a black dragon on her right shoulder, a red one on her right, and a green in her arms. For over a hundred years, dragons had been dead. But here, in front of him, his wife had become the Mother of Dragons and she had three.

It was Daven who helped her out of the fire, extending his arm and covering her nakedness with his cloak. When she saw Tyrion, Dany cried, "My love, you are well. I prayed to the Gods and they have returned you to me."

But the stress of the fire and the magic was too much. Lady Daenerys collapsed into the strong arms of Daven Lannister.

It was several hours later. Tyrion had been trying to heal as well as trying to figure out how the hell his wife had hatched dragons. Daenerys slept soundly beside him. Her dragons curled near their mother. Daemon was sucking his thumb between the two of them. There was a knock at the door and Septa Rowena came in with her bag. She spoke, "You seem to be well, my Lord. How are you feeling?"

Tyrion Lannister spoke quietly, "Well enough. My wife burned a witch and herself and came out unscathed and with three dragons. My son and I were poisoned and dying but here we are, well enough. You are quite a woman, Septa Rowena. House Lannister is indebted to you. But I don't think Rowena is your name..."

Notes:

At first, Septa Rowena was going to be the one who got burned after trying to poison Tyrion but after several rewrites, I decided to go with her healing him and it being about healing and forgiveness. Not revenge at all.

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