Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book three

It can't be - Part 1 - Tywin x Tyrion x Reader

Request for shoot_shitx2. I hope you all enjoy.

Tywin had looked at the strange mixture of people that his son had brought with him. His merry band of rescuers made up of Mountain men and a rather uncouth, arrogant sellsword by the name of Bronn. All of them there for the gold that his youngest son had promised them. Yet there was one that appeared different. The figure had stood quietly at the back. Its large cape and cowl covering it from head to toe. Yet despite the fact that the old lion had never seen the persons face. Never heard them speak. He had the strangest feeling that he had met them before. That he had known them a long time ago.

"How can I help you father?" Tyrion enquired, as he made his way back into his father's tent.

"The cloaked figure that stood at the back of the room. Who is he?" Tywin enquired coldly, as he poured himself a glass of wine before turning to look at his youngest son.

"I can't say that I know. The man hasn't said a word while he has been with me and keeps himself to himself. All that I know is that he shook his head when I offered him gold for his services, and he is exceptionally good with a bow and sword. Which was all I required. Why do you want to know?" Tyrion explained, watching as his father took a seat. The old man seemingly lost in his thoughts for a moment. As if he had drifted off to another time and place.

"You can leave now." Tywin abruptly ordered, without even bothering to look at Tyrion. Tyrion giving his father a curt smile, before leaving the way that he had entered only seconds before. The little man standing there for a moment, his brows furrowed as he wondered why his father, of all people, would care about anyone that had helped him. Would care about a simple sellsword. And even though he knew better than to give a damn about what his father's cares and concerns, there was something about the way that the old lion had looked, that intrigued him. The diminutive lord determining to now find out a little more about his mysterious rescuer.

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Quietly, the figure sat by the fire, carefully fixing the fletching's on their arrows. They had done their best to keep to themselves. To not get involved with the others. To not say a word. Yet it had been difficult not to speak to the little man as soon as he had walked into the tavern. They had of course heard of Tyrion Lannister. The Imp. The Halfman. The Demon Monkey. Though they had never expected to meet him, and most definitely not under these circumstances. Yet when they had, they knew that come what may, they would have to protect him. They would have to protect him in her memory.

"Good evening." A soft calm voice suddenly said. The sellsword doing their best to not be distracted by the visitor. Their rough fingers continuing to fix their arrows.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Tyrion continued. The little lion smiling slightly, as the figure shook its head. Tyrion taking a seat on a log that had been placed next to the small fire.

"I have not had chance to thank you........." The youngest Lannister added. The figure waving its hand as if to say that they required no thanks. The pair sitting quietly for a few moments before Tyrion felt the need to push a little further.

"You don't say much, do you. Can you not speak...........?" Tyrion's question answered with only another shake of the person's head. The little lion suddenly getting a strange feeling about his rescuer. One that he couldn't place. One that did not fill him with concern, but............but with a feeling of safety. Of........dare he say, care and concern.

"May I ask something of you.............?" Tyrion enquired. Another small smile pulling at his lips, as the figure nodded slowly.

"You did not want gold for your services. You have asked nothing for my protection. But.........but I was hoping that you would allow me to see your face, so that I may remember you............." The young lion said, his brows furrowing, as the sellsword quickly jumped to their feet. Their head shaking violently, as their arrows dropped to the floor. Tyrion getting to his own feet, as he saw his father and two Lannister bannermen make their way over to where he and the sellsword had sat. The figure pulling their cowl further over their head, as Tywin stopped before them.

"Who are you?" Tywin demanded to know. The sellsword once again shaking their head, as they backed away.

"You will tell me who you are, and show me your face, now!" The old lion exclaimed. Tywin gesturing, with a movement of his head, for his guard to take hold of the figure.

"Father. What is this? What are you doing? This man helped me.........." Tyrion questioned, as he did his best to pull the bannermen from the struggling form. The young lion finding himself laid prone on the floor, as his father moved closer. Tyrion unable to do anything as the old man tightly gripping the large cowl of the still struggling figure.

"Who are you.............?" Tywin demanded to know with a disdainful growl. The Lannister patriarch stumbling backwards, as the hood was pulled away from the sellswords head. His features turning pale, as if he had just laid eyes on some spectre. On some ghastly spirit. Tyrion's own eyes growing wide, as he looked up at his protector. The young lion seeing something that he would never have expected. Would never have believed. He and his father silent, as the soldiers finally released the figure. The lord of Casterly Rock. The Hand of the King, able to only say three words as he looked up at the person. His heart beating violently as they left his lips.

"It can't be................."