#Tyrion

[bellemorte79]

I might ask him to do it again lmao

There is no better demonstration of how much most men don't understand about attractiveness than the number of dudes responding to this tweet with "You think Peter Dinklage is hot?"

He is charming and crazy handsome, but half these men have let Andrew Tate or whoever convince them that no one could find him attractive because he isn't six feet tall.

This tweet is 100% true! He was so hot that they basically made a kind of terrible guy into a hero! I would let him hit me with a car and say thank you, and that girl you have a crush on probably would too!

[dedalvs]

I was looking at your Valyrian glyphs for animals (I especially love the ones for spider, squid, turtle and frog) and was wondering if you have made a lion glyph? I'm designing some royal seals for Tyrion and Cersei, and wanted to add a lion glyph. I've searched through your wikis and there is a glyph for cat, and one for gold, so perhaps I'll add those together if there's no lion glyph. Thanks, I love your work on this series so much!

A good question! The word for "lion" is built off the word for "cat", so there isn't a separate glyph. Kēli is "cat" and kēlio is "lion", so to spell the latter you use the "cat" glyph with a -io determinative. Generally that's the "gate" glyph, but given the nature of lions, you can also use the "tooth" glyph. Here are both spellings. First, the "gate" version:

Next, the "tooth" version:

But yeah, since it's derived, no individual "lion" glyph. ("Dragon" is also derived, but they're a bit more central to Valyrian culture, so it makes sense they'd have a separate glyph for it.)

[winter-wise]

"Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads"

man was rocking up to political meetings like

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being in an arranged marriage to Tyrion but you convince him that you truly love him & cuddling.

The look on his face was clear enough - the embarrassment, the knowledge that rejection was coming, the question of whether he should even bother to say something. But you decided to break the break the ice and be the first one to say something to him. “Which side of the bed do you prefer? I’ve always been partial to the right.” You tilted your head as he looked at you with disbelief. No witty comeback. “What, did you think that I would make you sleep on the floor like a dog?”

“What you see is a dwarf, not a dog,” Tyrion said. He did so often use that word for himself, you wondered if he had to remind himself of it constantly. He did have the head of a fully-grown man, you could give him that.

“And does my dwarf husband consent to sleeping on the left side of the bed?” You ask, taking off the first of many layers of the wedding dress that you had been somehow squeezed into that morning.

His head tilted to the side as he looked up at you and then started to remove his boots. “He does,” He nodded, taking them off and then walked to the table to pour himself a glass of wine. “Do you want some? I have the feeling you’ll be needing it, if you are to sleep beside a -”

“Dwarf?” You asked, chuckling. “Yes, you do seem fond of calling yourself that. But no, I’ll have no trouble sleeping beside you while sober, as long as you don’t mind one thing.”

“Ahh, always a condition,” He said, drinking from his goblet. “A bag over my head, perhaps?”

“Are you always so insecure?” You asked, starting to let your hair free, now that you were just in your slip. “No, the condition being that I can still be the little spoon once in a while.”

He choked on his wine, nearly spilling his goblet in the process. But like most drinkers, he was skilled at keeping the cup steady. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t mind doing the cuddling, but I also enjoy being the cuddled,” You said, walking around to the bed and getting in your preferred side, the blankets over you. “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad for this marriage, you always looked ... warm, and I tend to run cold at night.”

He gave you the funniest expression of disbelief that you had ever seen in your life, and your smile grew wide. Then, he actually seemed to blush. Tyrion Lannister, known throughout all of the whorehouses, blushing. “Is this a joke?”

“I might be smiling, but I’m not laughing. Come, it’s been a long day, and with how much you drank, I have the feeling you’re not up to your ... husbandly duty.”

“I didn’t think you would want me to be,” Tyrion said, setting the goblet back on the table and walked towards the bed, still looking cautious as if it were a trap.

“Maybe you should ask before you assume, my husband.”

Requested by: @fantasylover4evr​

[thewatcher0nthewall]

Imp

[enneadau]

Someone is helping me wrap Christmas presents...

[spxllcxstxr]

Being a Tully and in an Arranged Marriage with Tyrion Lannister • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: hi!! Would you consider writing headcanons for a Tully!fem!reader x Tyrion Lannister in an arranged marriage? you don’t have to & take your time if you do :)) — anon

Warnings: canon divergence - the timeline isn’t exact but oh well, fem!reader, derogatory names used for Tyrion (sometimes by reader until she learns to love him), drinking, no reader description as per usual

A.N: I hope these are alright!! I’m actually a Tyrion Lannister simp so I found this little thing pretty fun! Hope you all enjoy!!

•

“Absolutely not, father.” You say, your face screwed up in disgust, hands clenched into fists at the dinner table

He sits there, unfazed by your outburst

“Anyone but the imp, father, please!”

While you absolutely hated the idea of your father arranging a marriage for you, it certainly wasn’t a surprise; Catelyn, your older sister, had been married to Eddard Stark for a few years, and now it was finally your turn

You had never met the Lannisters but the stories you have heard of them throughout the Riverlands frightened you to your core

Their endless amount of riches and vast power was somehow overshadowed by the evil and danger that surrounded them

“It is final, daughter. You will be wed at Casterly Rock and from there…I do not know,”

It takes you time to really process this

You being married off to some wealthy lord is your duty, something you had come to terms with years ago

But marrying a Lannister?

Marrying the unloved and disgraced son of Tywin Lannister specifically?

You spend days in your room, writing letters to your sisters, crying about your loveless marriage

You do not see him until you arrive at Casterly Rock, he waits for you draped in red

You’re shocked to find that he’s not grotesque at all like you were led to believe…he’s actually quite…handsome

His Lannister blonde hair shines in the afternoon sun and the slight smirk on his face is quite attractive as well

But looks can be deceiving, you remind yourself

"My Lady, it is nice to finally meet you,"

"It is a pleasure, my Lord,"

"Please, call me Tyrion...since we are soon to be wed..."

He certainly does not seem excited about this marriage either

The two of you don't really see each other in the few weeks leading up to your wedding - Tyrion was frequently drunk and you were mostly left to your own devices

The wedding is beautiful, you must admit, the Lannister's loved flaunting their coin

Your family does not make the long journey from Riverrun to Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister makes only a brief appearance

The dreaded bedding ceremony

Tyrion actually forbids anyone from touching you; he stays sober enough to get you back to your now shared quarters

"I will not bed you, my Lady wife, you should not be subjected to someone such as me"

"Tyrion, that is not why I wish not to bed you…” You’re nervous, his kindness out of the ordinary for men. “I simply wish to keep my maidenhood for someone…for someone I love.”

Your marriage starts off…well, actually

You and Tyrion start off getting to know each other, becoming friends first

You admire his quick wittedness and intellect, his jokes always land and you always laugh

He never pushes you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with and neither do you

You teach him about Riverrun and the streams you grew up by

And your sisters

He tells you about his childhood and his brother Jamie

You have quite a lot of differences in terms of upbringing and power, but you find it easy to laugh at each other’s childhood plights

You think you can learn to love him

After spending a few months at Casterly Rock you and Tyrion are moved to King’s Landing, which you absolutely dread

The entire ride there you and Tyrion talk in hushed tones about his family, he prepares you for the worst

The entire time he’s holding your hand, thumb slowly rubbing across your knuckles

Of course when you arrive you have to meet everyone in the Throne Room

The Iron Throne looking as menacing as the writings say it does

Cersei looks at you skeptically, before turning her calculated scowl towards her brother

“Back already brother? I was hoping your wretched little body would stay over at Casterly Rock.”

Unknowingly your hand tightens into a fist, disgusted with Cersei’s words

“Yes, always a pleasure to see you, sister. Now can me and my Lady Wife retire to our quarters?”

After brief introductions, you and Tyrion are back in your wing on the castle, resting on the bed

“She should not speak to you like that.” You tell him, your hand grabbing his. “It isn’t right.”

“Since the day I was born into this cruel world I was a wretched thing, so take no offense, I have not for years now…” He smiles at you.

“But Tyrion, you are not wretched or monstrous or any of these foul things…I do not see that. I see your kindness and bravery…” You smile, lifting your hand up to caress his face. “And quite handsome too, I must admit…”

“(Y/N)…May I kiss you?” He asks softly, his eyes glimmering

“I would love that, my husband…”

Your heart beats as you kiss him, and you know for sure that you could very easily love Tyrion Lannister

[glussy]

when Tyrion comes into Varys room to fuck Shae and instead is met with Varys in full drag with a curly brown wig, dress, and beat face and saying "Is something amiss?" like asoiaf is a comedy

[starknesskenobi]

The soul of a bitchy teenage girl lives within this man:

[bilumiart]

Evil boyfriends 🎩🎀✨

Based on this meme

[celtigxr]

the "You're not my son" duo

behold the gods of tits and wine

[raymond-the-unascended]

This scene lmao 😂

[artist-ellen]

Tyrion Lannister

An absolute staple to the GoT/ASOIAF starter pack, favorite of many, the charismatic youngest (and cleverest) child of Tywin Lannister, Tyrion. His outfit had to be gold, red and cavalier. Hopefully you'll see more of what I mean if I get around to Tywin.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me through my linktree: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

[winter-wise]

Tyrion being born disabled, so Tywin hates him, so Tyrion grows up desperate to be loved (including his marriage to Tysha), which makes Tyrion remind Tywin of Tytos, so Tywin hates him more, so Tyrion has to become adept at strategy and manipulation in order to survive, which reminds Tywin and Genna of Tywin himself, which makes Tywin hate Tyrion even more.

[random-imagines-blog]

The Only One {Tyrion Lannister x Reader}

Requested by: @its-justaweeb-fan Wordcount: 4031 Summary: You're called to the castle for a special job, one that brings you close to Tyrion Lannister, of all people. Notes: Descriptions of gruesome injuries, sibling death. Dividers by: @strangergraphics

You were hardly rich, or noble-born. In fact, when your father died, all that you had inherited was his job at the bakery, making bread to support your family. You spent your days enclosed in the hot room with the fires constantly burning, your arms straining from carrying the wooden bread peel, or from kneading the bread. You were continuously sweating, rubbing your back, feeling as if you were twice your age as you did this work. But the pay was decent. You would be able to buy another chicken for fresh eggs, and eventually for meat. You had been saving up all week. Such things were the highlights of your existence.

That was until your world was turned upside down and you went head over heels. Two guards, complete in their armor, with the Baratheon crest, though everyone knew the city really belonged to the Lannisters, had come into your working space. Half of them thought that they were going to come and arrest you. Baking was usually a male-dominated field, and you were a woman. But they made no motion to bring out their swords, or like they were attempting to force you into anything.

“Your presence is requested at the Red Keep,” One of the soldiers said, his voice thick and heavy behind his helmet. It reminded you of molasses.

“Mine?” You asked, your eyebrows shooting up. You gave your name to make sure that they had the correct person and they nodded, letting you know that indeed, it had been you.

Despite the fact that they were not forcing you into anything, they weren’t touching you, or pushing you, or pulling you, you felt as if you had to follow along. Turning down a request from the castle would bring you a world of trouble that you weren’t looking to get into. But going there could also do the same.

Your mind was whirling as you followed, attempting to avoid the eye of your friends and neighbors who were surprised to see you outside of work, let alone being led away. You kept your head held high, though your gaze was downwards. You were trying to think - have you done something wrong? How could you have offended the nobility when you had not even met them before? Had they tried your bread and had a problem with it? No, they would never go so low as to buy bread from the city. They had their own cooks, their own bakers.

You had never been so close to the Red Keep before. You almost had, once, to talk to King Robert about declining wheat quality from the farms around the city, but another had gone into your stead. The towers were taller than you could ever have imagined up close, as you walked towards the entrance. Your eyes couldn’t look down, only up. It looked as if they were arms, emerging from the earth, trying to reach up to the sky. Such monoliths of stone, you could not help but feel even smaller than before.

Rather than be escorted into a throne room, you were brought into a small meeting chamber. The guard gave you a small nod, an invitation to sit at the table, and then left the room, closing the door behind you. You didn’t sit down right away, rather, you walked towards the thin window. It was tall, but it was slim, more so than you. They clearly didn’t want any jumpers from this room, you thought morbidly. But it also brought about the fact that you would not be flung out.

After getting your fill of the view, you sat down on the wooden chair that was on one side of the table. It wasn’t a large one, more so made for two people rather than a group. There was a pitcher sitting on it, the sweet smell of wine coming from within, as well as two goblets. They didn’t look ornate, or expensive, but rather just like the ones that were at the local alehouse. Something in you was surprised at that. You had assumed everything in this place would have been on the fancy side. But no - your chair had no cushion and the table was free of decor. Commonly made.

The door opened and the person who had come in was unexpected. You didn’t know exactly who you were anticipating to walk through that door, but Tyrion Lannister was not it. The dwarf brother of Queen Cersei, the Uncle of King Joffrey, walked inside, and immediately went straight for the wine. You watched with wide eyes as he said not a word, just poured himself a cup of the wine. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he drank it down, smacking his lips afterward. He refilled his glass and then filled the other, pushing it towards you, finally sitting down. You had heard the rumors, picking up the glass but not drinking, of how he had been missing from the city lately.

Everyone knew who Tyrion Lannister was. He was more likely to walk among the people than any others in the family. Cersei kept to the castle, and was only seen during special events, much like her son. Jaime Lannister was only seen when he was among the King’s Guard, and seeing him was often a foul omen. It often meant trouble. Riots. Something terrible happening. But Tyrion - he was known in the city, often going to the alehouses. And the brothels. That much everyone and their mother knew about, but despite that - the people respected him for it. Oh, there were always jokes following him around. How he only needed half the drink of a normal man. How he must pay half price for a whore because of his size. Many half-ling jokes. And yet, he had never thought of himself as above the people like the rest of the family had. He was a natural fixture.

But he hadn’t been seen in the last month. There had been rumors circulating about that. He must have been on a trip, of some kind. Or perhaps his nephew had sent him to the wall. Perhaps he had been with the wrong whore and now his cock has shriveled up and fallen off. Perhaps he had contracted one of the many diseases and was now far too ashamed to be seen in the city. But the man in front of you, and you would call him a man for you were not as cruel as those who only referred to him as a half man, did not look as if he were sick. Pained, yes. But not sick.

The door opened once more, and another Lannister made his way inside. Jaime Lannister. Seeing him made you bristle back up, the tension going through your shoulders. You were stiffer than the boards that had made this table when you saw him saunter by, with his sword by his side. You could not help but think - you don’t belong here. You had done nothing to deserve this.

He did not take the wine that you had neglected as well. No, Tyrion reached for that after he had drunk his second glass. Jaime remained standing by the table and he gave you a friendly, disconcerting smile. “You must be curious as to why you are here?" He asked, teasingly.

“Very, Ser Jaime,” You said, your eyes trailing back towards Tyrion. There was something about him that you couldn’t take your eyes off of. He was being quiet, which you had heard was rare for him. And he was staring at you like he was sizing you up. No, almost like - he was curious about you, but also not happy that you were here.

“I’ve heard about your brother,” Ser Jaime said. “The one that had his tongue cut off for treason.”

Oh. Your brother. A source of shame for the family, though you still loved him very much. He had been bad mouthing Cersei in a tavern, calling her a common whore who got lucky, when he had been overheard by guards. He had been grabbed, pushed down onto the table, and his tongue had been pulled out with a pair of pliers. You had not been there to see this, but the aftermath, you had. A quick-thinking patron had pressed a hot coal against the stub of his tongue to keep him from bleeding out after the guards had left, and despite his treason, you had taken care of him. You had learned to understand the sounds that he made, translate them into words. Speak for him, in a way. But he passed away half a year ago due to infection. It had been a nasty death. Slow and painful.

“He has passed away,” You said, in case that was what Ser Jaime wanted to know about. “Many moons ago. Infection. And I can assure you that my family and I don’t share the same sentiments -”

The blonde man put up his hand to stop you and you closed your mouth. He gave you an easy-going smile but you didn’t let yourself relax. Even dragons have been said to smile, long ago, it was not always a good sign. “I’m sure that you don’t,” He said with a chuckle. “The reason why I brought him up is because you’ve acted as a sort of translator for him? Am I correct in saying that?”

You nodded, your hands in your lap. “I was the only one that could understand him,” You admitted. “We worked out a system with different sounds, so I could speak for him if there was ever call for it.” You were tempted to add that you never spoke the other treasonous thoughts that he had, the horrible things that he had said about the guards, the King, the Queen, all of them, after his injury. But he had said so many horrible things. But you felt like perhaps that wasn’t a good idea.

“We have a need of someone like that around here,” Jaime said, walking around and putting his arm around Tyrion who glowered up at him.

“ - A translator?” You asked, furrowing your own brow.

That’s when Tyrion spoke. Or attempted to speak. He sounded a lot like your brother had, making sounds rather than being able to form words. It was quite hard to do without the use of a tongue. But you were able to catch his gist well enough. His voice still came out deep, and somehow, still sounded sarcastic. Jaime looked over to you, like he was expecting to see your skills in action at that moment.

“He called you a name which I would not like to mention,” You said, bashfully. The language that he was still exhibiting despite not being able to make syllables was astounding. He had quite the vocabulary.

“That’s my brother,” Jaime said with a small chuckle. “He had gotten into some trouble lately with our dear sister. And unfortunately - met the same fate as your brother. Without death, of course.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” You said, looking into Tyrion's eyes. There was sincerity in your gaze, and he seemed to see that, his own shoulders relaxing underneath his brother’s arm.

“As do I,” Jaime nodded. “Our problem is, he still has a lot to say, and we can’t understand him. That’s why we sought you out. He’s prepared to offer you a room in the castle, and a small allowance, if you be his voice for him.”

You licked your lips nervously. A job interview. That’s what this had become. You hadn’t expected this in the slightest. “I was wondering, and I mean no offense,” You said, leaning forward slightly. “- If he could ask me this himself.”

Tyrion’s eyes closed in annoyance for a moment, but then a small grin came across his features. He said something then that you could understand, and it wasn’t exactly what you had asked for. It went along the lines of, ‘My stupid brother won’t take the time to understand. He’s never been good at language. All brawn and no brains. And that’s what this family is lacking. Brains. They need you as much as they need me.’

Jaime seemed ignorant to everything that was being said. He was just looking at you with eyebrows raised, waiting to see if you would take the offer. And you would be foolish not to. You would be able to support your family far better from the Red Keep than you would be able to from the bakery. You looked up to Jaime and you nodded. “I’d be happy to help.”

He grinned, a handsome grin, but not as charming as the one that Tyrion had. Jaime resembled a dog in the way that he was - tough, a bit goofy-looking, had the ability to look non threatening while also being able to cut your throat without a second thought. While Tyrion - he seemed to be the lion that was on his family crest. Still waters running deep. Biding his time.

“Excellent,” Jaime said. “It’ll be good for you to have a friend for once, Tyrion.”

Tyrion then said something that made you giggle, because of how rude that it was. Jaime looked over at you and you straightened yourself out, feigning a cough. He saluted you with his glass after that.

The Red Keep was not a warm and welcoming place. Despite the constant sunlight coming in through the windows, it felt darker because of the shadows. Your room was near Tyrion’s in case he had any need for you, he could fetch you right away, and a guard was stationed outside of your door at night. To keep you safe, he had said. But you didn’t know what the threat was. But despite all of that, it was still more comfortable than your home. You had a mattress rather than the straw bed that you had before. And on top of that, you had clothing that was a lot nicer, and tailored to your body rather than hand-me-downs.

Tyrion wasn’t bad either. He could get in a mighty grouchy mood, but he had his tongue cut out so you couldn’t blame him. He didn’t make for bad company. The way that he would criticize the mistake that his more powerful family members were making, he always followed up with solutions that you thought sounded feasible. You urged him to share these ideas with the council when he was there, and you were sitting by his side, but he refused. Because they just don’t listen, and it’s typically better to let them come to the answer on their own.

The council was intimidating. You had a seat behind Tyrion’s, as if you were not worthy to actually sit at the table. The only time that you were given any attention was when Tyrion would give it to you. Sometimes she would lean back and say something to you, something only you could understand. It was like the two of you had secrets together. Like you had a bond, which honestly, made you feel pretty special. The comments and jabs that he made to you at the table nearly made you laugh every time. You had to become pretty practiced at keeping a straight face.

The worst was when Tyrion would speak to the council, and everyone would be waiting for you to translate. But you couldn’t repeat what he said, so you would attempt to put it into nicer terms. ‘I’m not questioning your honor, I’m denying its existence’ became 'He says he does not think that is the most honorable path.’ ‘It’s hard to put a leash on a dog once you’ve put a crown on its head’ became ‘He says that Joffrey’s ideas are outside of what is expected.’

The royal family had its own inner politics and you were becoming intertwined in them.

As you were the only person who could understand Tyrion without him having to write out his ideas - a remarkably bad idea especially when he had been drinking - you two had become close. It grew, as his brother had expected, into something more than an employer and employee relationship. A close friendship where he could tell you things that he could not tell anyone else.

He told you about how he had been blamed for his mother dying giving birth to him. How his father had always held that against him, and not shown him an ounce of affection. He didn’t mind now, he didn’t want it. He rejected his father as much as he possibly could in his position. He told you about how he had felt the pressure to make something more of himself because of his circumstances. His sister was the pretty one, his brother was the strong one. That meant he had to pick up the pieces as the smart one.

You opened up about how you never actually liked baking but it was expected of you. You talked about having to take care of your brother, and be there during his last few days, when he was fighting the infection but you already knew he was going to lose. During this, Tyrion let you look at the stub of his tongue, just to relieve your mind of the thoughts that you would have to do the same thing with him. He spoke to you about how he went through withdrawals from wine because it stung so much to drink it shortly after his injury. But now he was back to drinking as much as he liked.

You, despite his small stature, his marred tongue, his witty and sarcastic ways, found him to be quite charming. Speaking to him was the highlight of your day. Your affection grew, to where you were seeking him out rather than the other way around. He never denied you the pleasure of his company, even if sometimes he seemed confused about why you wanted it. You just - did.

Sometimes your conversations would go on longer than most found appropriate. Late into the night, when the sun had descended, when a fire was burning in his fireplace, casting a dance of light and shadow on the walls, and on his face. It started off so innocent, with just eyes meeting over the table. With fingers brushing when you would both reach for the wine jug at the same time. Then the physical really started. He brushed your hair out of your eyes with his short fingers, tucking it behind your ear. His hand would reach behind him during the council meetings and rest on your knee. Only Jaime noticed this, but nothing was said aloud, just a knowing smirk.

The first kiss was while the two of you were dining together in the kitchens. You weren’t invited to sit in the main dining hall with the family while you ate, and Tyrion didn’t want to sit with them anyhow. The kitchen staff were still bustling about to make dessert, and you felt comfortable around the familiar scents of baking bread and cakes. You weren’t given the prime cuts of the meat but you were fine with that, just happy to have enough filling your belly.

Eating wasn’t as much fun without a tongue, and it was messier as well so Tyrion would sometimes end up making a small bit of a mess. That’s when you would come in and casually point to where it was so he could wipe it, but he was too into his own conversation now that he wasn’t noticing. He finally paused to take a drink and that’s when you leaned forward, wiping at it with your thumb.

This meant that you were quite close to him, leaning in in order to get it. He paused, the cup in his hands, freezing as he noticed just how close you were getting to him. His eyes were stuck on yours, breathing in the sweet smell of the wine, making him feel light headed. You were so close. He could make out every feature on your face and that, combined with the furrow of your brow as you concentrated on being gentle, made his heart feel like it was going faster, faster, over the limit fast.

He didn’t realize what he was doing. He wasn't someone who always acted upon instinct except for when it was some snarky remark, but that didn’t have consequences. Not anymore. But right now, he was leaning in closer to you. Moving in. His upturned nose was just brushing against yours. And then lips.

Despite eating, he tasted like wine. He drank so much of it, of course he did. But he tasted of good wine, rich wine, the kind here at the Red Keep, not what passed for it in the city. Your eyes drifted closed, but his had stayed wide open. He had been with a great many women - but he had kissed so few. Even though he was paying for their services, no whore ever wanted to kiss the imp. But here you were. With no more money exchanged than there had been when you agreed to become his voice. You had no incentive to kiss him.

But he was glad that you were.

His hand pressed against your cheek, and you hummed softly into it, enjoying the warmth of his touch against your skin. How he wished he still had his tongue so that he could run it across your bottom lip and find out what you tasted like. He wished he had his tongue for a lot of things right now.

It grew deeper, until the sound of the oven being opened made you back up. Made you realize that you were among the cooks and servants who were preparing to bring out dessert. Your cheeks felt warmer than they ever had before, and it couldn’t be blamed on the heat. It could only be blamed on Tyrion.

“I’m sorry, my Lord, that was -”

“Are you?” He interrupted you with a sound that sounded almost like a cry. He wasn’t shy to talk in front of the cooks, who were hardly paying any attention. They would gossip later, absolutely, but they didn’t judge the sounds that he had made. “Because I'm not.”

He had that mischievous grin on his face once more. The same one that he made whenever he said something particularly clever. Or when you surprised him with a witty retort of your own, which was not very often. You leaned back in the wooden chair, your tongue rubbing against the inside of your cheek.

“Then - no, I’m not sorry,” You said after a long, tense moment.

“Good, I was beginning to think I had lost my touch,” He said, putting his hand on your thigh beneath the table. You felt even warmer at that. Things were changing. The tide was coming in harder. Winter was coming. And your relationship with Tyrion was changing.

“Some might think this is an abuse of power, My Lord,” You said, your smile stretching out your cheeks.

“Are you among those people?” He asked.

You laughed lightly. That was a good question. Had it been anyone else but Tyrion, you would have said absolutely. If it was Jaime or Joffrey or even one of the guards that protected the Red Keep, you would have said yes, you did think so. “For you? No.”

He was gratified by that answer, keeping his hand on you as he finished drinking the remnants of wine in his cup, before sliding off of the chair. He was at about your height while you were sitting down, but he had the confidence and spirit of a man five times taller.

“May I walk you to your chamber?” He asked, offering you his hand. You heard it clearly, despite others having no idea what he was saying.

“You may,” You said, getting onto your own feet, taking his hand, and bowing your head to him. “But don’t you wish to retire in your own? It’s getting late.”

“No,” He said, keeping his hand in yours. “But I wouldn’t mind retiring in yours.”

[thewatcher0nthewall]

Got some free time from college, so...

TYRION!!!!! 🙌🏼