Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book three

The great pretender - Part 7 - Petyr x Reader

Petyr sat drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Months, it had been months since he and (Y/n) had been married. Yet he was still to bed his beautiful bride. Still even to get the chance to be alone with her. Every other resident of the Red Keep seeming to be in on the lioness' plans to keep the pair apart. At every turn, he would find that someone was with the lioness. Be it one of her siblings, the King, the Hound, Varys or the imps damn sellsword. Petyr most definitely not liking it when he saw how Bronn would look at (Y/n). How he would smile smugly, as he and the lioness passed. But everything that he had tried, had led to naught. His best thought out plans, being countered by the youngest daughter of the old lion.

With a heavy sigh, Petyr rose from his chair and moved over to the window. His eyes looking out over the vast city below. He knew that he was already a laughingstock. He knew that he was being spoken about in hushed tones, not just by the nobility that lived in the castle, but also by the smallfolk. Rumours spreading quicker than anything, through the tightly packed streets of the capital, and the shadowy corners of the great Keep. And he couldn't pretend that he liked it. The Master of Coin finding it harder and harder to smile, even if it were one of his fake, thin smiles, when having to deal with others. But what else could he do? He had waited far too long to get (Y/n). Too long to get the information that he needed on Tywin, to force the old man's hand. So, Petyr was well aware that there was only one thing that he could do, and that was keep trying. Do what he could to prove to the lioness that he really cared for her.

Slowly, he moved from the window and made his way to the door. This wouldn't be the first time that he had gone searching for his wife today. Not the first time that he had gone searching for her since they had been married. But he would try again. The whoremonger pushing his way out into the corridor, sure that he would find the lioness somewhere with her younger brother and his accursed sellsword.

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"Hold ya arm up. Ya droppin ya guard." Bronn said, as he and (Y/n) faced one another in the arena. The sound of wood on wood filling the air, as the two practiced. Tyrion choosing to sit to the side, too focused on his book to care about anything else that was going on. The little lion knowing that his sister was quite safe. For even though Bronn still insisted on shouting out instructions. Still insisted on the two of them using practice weapons instead of real steel, just in case he happened to hurt the lioness, (Y/n) was much better with the blade than anyone would give her credit for. And if need be, she could quite easily hold her own against the sellsword.

"I will have you know that I never drop my guard, Bronn. Your stance, however, is far too open. And I swear that being my brother's bodyguard has made you a little sloppy with your sword." (Y/n) countered with a chuckle, as she came forward, Bronn parrying each one of her strikes. The sellsword catching her arm and spinning her around. The lioness finding her back pulled against the sellswords chest. His hot breath fanning over her neck.

"I'm never sloppy with my sword, milady. And if ya would like, I'd be more than happy ta show ya how good I am with a real weapon." Bronn hummed seductively into her ear. His fingers brushing away the hair from her shoulders, so that his lips could ghost over her flesh. His grip around (Y/n)'s waist tightening.

"I will give you one thing, Bronn. You are persistent. And I must admit that I do like a bad man, which you just happen to be. But we have to face it Bronn, it would never work between us. I would eat you alive................"

"That's what I was planning on............." The sellsword chuckled softly. Neither the pair, nor Tyrion noticing the man that was making his way towards them. His usual cool and calm exterior beginning to crack as saw his bride in the arms of another.

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Petyr made his way through the Keep. Doing his best to act how he normally would. Giving everyone one of his thin smiles as he passed. Shrugging off the mutters and chuckles as he wound his way towards his destination. He had already tried (Y/n)'s rooms. Already tried the imp's rooms. So, he would try one last place. He would try the arena and hope to find his bride there.

Despite the fact that the old lion hadn't liked it, (Y/n) had always insisted that she should learn to fight. That with the world as it was, a lady should know how to protect herself. And that she had no desire to rely on any man to do it for her. The lioness proving to be a quick study. Becoming so good with a blade in fact, that Cersei had tried to persuade Robert to let her become a Kingsguard. The Master of Coin sure that the only reason that she wasn't wearing the white cloak just like her older brother, was because Tywin didn't want to lose his favored child, as he had his heir, to the oath.

Quickly, Petyr made his way out to the arena. The bright afternoon sun stinging his eyes momentarily, as the gloom of the castle was replaced by the outside world. The whoremonger feeling a burning in his belly, as he saw the sellsword turn (Y/n) around and pull her back towards his chest. His arm creeping around her waist as he dropped the practice sword to the floor. His hand slowly moving the lioness' hair from her shoulder. Petyr storming over to where the Lannisters and sellsword were. His ire growing inside him. The trio turning to look at him, as he came to a halt before them and spoke.

"Take your hands off my wife!"