200 Multifandom One Shots

Loss and love - GoT - Tyrion x Reader

(Y/n) had watched as Tyrion had climbed up onto the pile of tumbled down stones. Watched as he had dropped to his knees and slowly moved the rubble. As he had begun to shake. To cry. The sight of his brother, his sister, dead together beneath the stones, more than the little man could take. He had already been through so much in his life. So much turmoil, so much upheaval, that the image of the last of his family, of Jaime, the only one that had ever cared about him, lying dead, had seemed to break him more than he already was. And despite the fact that the world was now slowly beginning to find some kind of new normality, she could see that a part of the lion was missing. That even though he was settling into his new role as Hand of the new king, Bran. Even though he dealt with the duties to the best of his abilities, it was still obvious that some of the life had left his eyes, and she hated it.

She had first met the, at times, rather annoying little man, when he had walked into the tavern where she and her brother had been drinking. (Y/n) kicking Bronn under the table when he had given up their room to the lion, for a coin. The female sellsword sure that if the small man really wanted a room for the night, that he could have afforded much more. (Y/n) not happy about possibly having to yet again sleep on the floor while the Lannister got to sleep in her bed. Nor was she happy when her older brother had offered her services along with his own to the diminutive lord, stating that if Tyrion wanted him to protect his back, then there was no one better to watch his front than the only person in the world that the male sellsword trusted. Nor had she liked the look in the youngest lion's gaze when she would catch him watching her. Yet during her time with Tyrion, and just like her brother, she had come to care for the little lion. She had come to care a great deal. But even though Bran had made her a lady, just like he had made Bronn lord and given him Highgarden. Even though she had a seat on the small council, deep down she knew that she would never be anything other than a sellsword. A woman not worthy of a Hand of the King.

"I think that you should go and speak with him. He needs a friend..........." Brienne suddenly remarked, as she noticed that (Y/n)'s attention had drifted away from the conversation that they had been having. Conversations that had become a regular thing between the two female warriors since they had found their place in new world. Conversations about what had been discussed in the latest meeting of the small council. About anything really. The two finding that they had much in common. That together they would laugh and become young again, that they would speak like young women did. Many of their jokes at the expense of (Y/n)'s older brother or Tyrion. The younger sibling recounting all the things that she had been though with the pair. And given this, given the time that the two women would spend together, Brienne had also come to know that look. The look that (Y/n) would get whenever the Lord Hand would leave the room.

"What...........? Who.........who needs a friend............?" (Y/n) queried, as she was pulled from her thoughts and turned to look at the tall blonde.

"Please, (Y/n). Don't play the fool for we both know that you are no such thing. I have seen that look in your eyes before. You get it every time that you see Tyrion Lannister leave the room. Why don't you just go and talk to him? I for one think that you both deserve a little happiness. And if that happiness comes in the form of one another................."

"How am I to speak to...........to speak to him of such things, Brienne? Despite my new title and nice clothes, underneath it all I will only ever be a sellsword. I am not deserving of a man like Tyrion..............."

"Not deserving?! Not deserving?" Brienne interrupted in disbelief. The knight moving forward in her chair.

"Tyrion Lannister was married to a whore. He was with two whores to be precise. So, a sellsword has to be better than that, doesn't it? And what does it matter where you have come from or what you started life as? Isn't that the whole point of his new world? That we are no longer constrained by the old rules. That we can make new, better rules. Tyrion needs someone, he needs a friend. And who better than you..............?" Brienne continued, as she gave (Y/n) a reassuring small smile. That smile getting a little broader, as (Y/n) nodded her head and got to her feet and made her way to the door.

                                                         >>------------------------------------<<

Tyrion sat at his desk, and untouched glass of wine in front of him. He had much to do. The Six Kingdoms needed much work, and despite the fact that Bran was a Stark and the Three Eyed Raven, he still had much to learn about being a king. Yet despite all the things that clamoured for his attention, Tyrion's mind was elsewhere.

It was true to say that over the years, little parts of him had been broken. The loss of his mother at his birth. His father and sister's hatred for him. What had happened with Tysha, and the death of Shae and his father by his own hands. His escape from the capital. The war, and the loss of Jaime had all taken bits of him. Had all destroyed something inside him. Yet he had always done his best to keep things together, to be who he was. But recently, he had begun to feel lost, or should that be, more lost than usual. Tyrion sometimes feeling that the only reason that he had stayed in Kings Landing, was because of (Y/n).

(Y/n). He was sure that the female sellsword was actually the best thing that had ever happened to him. Not that he had ever had the chance..........or perhaps the nerve to tell her that. It was true that he had met many women over the years, and as he had once told Daario and Jorah, it was always the wrong women that men seemed to find themselves falling for. Yet he knew that with (Y/n), that that was not the case. It was true that she could be far too much like her brother at times. That when they used to guard him in the past, the two looking down at him with their arms crossed giving him that smart, smug look that they both possessed, he was sure that he was just seeing double. But despite what she and Bronn had been through, how she had been raised by her older brother and her occupation, (Y/n) had always, if not taking the beginning of their friendship into account, been far kinder to him than he believed he deserved. The female sellsword possessing the gentlest heart that he had ever come across. And even though he had wanted to tell her that. Even though he wanted to tell her that he wished for more than a friendship, Tyrion had annoyingly found that he could never find the right words. The Hand putting it down to the fact that his mind knew that she could do better than him. A man that some still referred to, as the Imp. And now that she was a lady, a member of the king's small council. Sister to the Master of Coin and new Lord of Highgarden, she could have any man that she wanted.............So, why would she choose him?

"Come!" Tyrion sighed, as a knock came to the door. The Hand leaning back in his chair and taking the glass of wine into his hand. The lord unable to stop his brows from furrowing as (Y/n) made her way into the room and over to him with an air of determination in her stride.

"(Y/n).......................?"

"Tyrion, please. If you interrupt me, I am sure that I won't be able to get all of this out. I mean, I have waited long enough as it is, and if I don't say it now, I might never say it. And then where would we be............?" (Y/n) rambled. Sighing at herself, before standing to her full height and straightening her clothes.

"Tyrion Lannister.........I..........well, not to beat around the bush........I love you...........I find I have done so for some time. And I know that I may only be a simple sellsword dressed in the finery of a lady, but I think that you and I could make one another happy. That if you would allow me, I would very much like to try and mend all the parts of you that have been broken. And even though I can't sew or do any of those other things that real ladies seem to know how to do, I think that I would make you an excellent wife.............."

"You...........you love me..................?"

"Yes, Tyrion. I did say that, didn't I...........? I, as unworthy as I am, love you, with all my heart and soul. And I would very much like to make you happy................" (Y/n) explained. Sure, that at any moment she was either going to be sick or die if Tyrion didn't say something real in reply. Her heart thumping violently against her ribcage as the little man got down some his seat and made his way around his desk to where she stood. Gesturing for her to come a little closer to his level. Tyrion taking her face in his hands and kissing her lips.

"And I............as unworthy as I am of you, love you too. With all my heart and soul. And would very much like to make you happy............So, where do you think we should begin...........?" Tyrion told her. Both unable to stop the smile that had crept onto their lips as they looked at one another.

"Well........perhaps a walk in the gardens, or should that be a walk in what's left of the gardens, in the evening sun would be nice. And after that..........well, I know that between us we can think of something." (Y/n) replied, as she stood up straight and took the arm that Tyrion was offering.

"Indeed we do..........my love.............." The little man countered with a smile, before escorting his lady from the room.