#¹ 𝑖𝑛𝑡‚ tyrion lannister.

[nonpareil]

> @norgodly — ‘so many men risk so little. they spend their lives avoiding danger. and then they die. i’d risk everything to get what i want.’

‘ah! well— they do say there's no reward without risk.’ but what risk would that be? tyrion wonders, absentmindedly scouting the young wolf's visage among the myriad of features alike and finds him grinning, face framed by a flaming crown that paralleled the sprigs of his ambition. once it caught alight, it could seldom be doused — the residuum of fire could not be so easily rescinded, the black mark of his zeal would be forever known. besides, robb's newfound royalty as the king in the north was soon to be contended, his youthful inexperience would bring with it blunders and before he knew it, his head would be stuck on a pike in king's landing among the traitors and the thieves. tyrion was quite fond of the young king, finds him more amiable than the other knights he'd met along the king's road. there was just something so utterly compelling about the starks in a way he'd not yet encountered, a love that defied tradition — allowed them to just be. in the lannister household it was all tradition, trussed up in customs that stifled distinction, rearing their women for marriage and their men for the council, never fostering a single tenderness between them. tyrion wonders if the pang in his stomach is a pinch of envy for the justice that his love commands — the sheer devotion of it — or a gnawing concern for what's to come. the good people of the north did not belong here, preyed upon for their weaknesses. [they deserved peace in the place they called home, they deserved to live without disturbance, to soar without falling.] in that moment, he thinks of brandon and throws back another cup of wine in the feeling of complicity, before stretching forward for a refill.

‘and how do you plan on achieving these lofty goals? don't tell me our young wolf is a deferential, little pup. doing what his woman asks for a mere scratch behind the ears.’ tyrion pauses before he suddenly realises his rather brusque manner of speaking on this evening's poison, sloshing the contents of his cup in the rapid interception of her response, an apology of sorts. ‘oh, no judgement here. i strongly believe you are smarter than any man here tenfold.’ the serpent twined around the rose-stem, an underestimation would surely put one in an early grave.