Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book three

Mistakes - Part 13 - Tyrion x Tywin x Reader

"Good morning.........." A cheery voice came, as Tyrion moved in the chair. The grumble that was going to leave his lips changing to a smile, as he slowly opened his eyes and saw (Y/n) looking at him. His sister pulling a fur around her shoulders.

"Has anyone ever told you that being so happy in the morning, is not allowed..........?" Tyrion asked, as he moved in the seat; sure, that every muscle in his body ached.

"Why not.............?"

"Because it stops me from being grumpy............" Tyrion replied with a chuckle, as he pulled off the blanket that had covered him.

"I'm sorry, Tyrion; I can't help it. Not today anyway. Today I get to move into my own rooms. I have never had a room of my own, not a real room. When I was small and my mother was still alive, she and I would share a room; and then............and then, when she died and the old woman took charge of me, I was placed in something more like a cell. As if I had been thrown into a dungeon, only allowed to see the light so that I could realise that I would never be free. I want you to be happy for me too, Tyrion. I am only a little way down the corridor; not far from you and Bronn at all, your father allowed me that. I will probably spend as much time with you as I always do. By the time I go to my room at night, you will probably be happy that you have some peace and quiet; that your life can get back to normal..........

Normal? Had his life ever been normal? Tyrion had to think not. He was the imp, the halfman; the dwarf of Casterly Rock. His father had wanted to walk him into the sea and drown him when he was born. He was despised by two thirds of his family; despised by the residence of the Keep, the residence of Kings Landing. He spent his life with whores and drunks. He could whore and drink with the best of them. The only real friend he had, was his brother; and maybe he could say Bronn, as long as he was paying him. But since he had met (Y/n) that night in Baelish's brothel; since he had realised that this sweet young woman was his sister. A sister that had been through so much herself; he had felt a strange kind of happiness. A...........normality. To her, he was not the demon monkey, he was not small. Not an ill-made, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. She did not blame him for the death of a mother; she didn't blame him for anything. In fact, it was the opposite, she made him feel like a giant; bigger and stronger than the Mountain himself. A knight in white shining armour, just like Jaime. And as much as he wished that (Y/n) had never bumped into their father; as much as she wished that she had remained his little secret and he could keep her close to him, he knew that she was right. That he should be happy for her, that he should not take this from her.

"You are right, and I am happy for you, (Y/n). The only thing is, that if you aren't here in the evenings, I will have to suffer Bronn alone, and that is not a fate that would make anyone smile............."

"I will be here in the evenings, I promise. It's just that I will sleep in my own room. Surely you want your bed back; that chair isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. And don't you want your life back? To be able to do the things that you did before you rescued me. Before you were looking after me all the time? As I have said before, I owe you so much, Tyrion. I can never repay you for what you have done for me; I care about you more than you can imagine; and given that, I want you to have your life back. I want us both to have lives. Both of us to have the things that we have always wanted." (Y/n) explained, as she crouched before the little lord and took his hands.

Oh, how he wished that the beauty before him had been his sister and not Cersei. He could imagine that his world might have been very different if he had had this kind of love when he was younger. That he and Jaime wouldn't have been so mixed up, if (Y/n) had shared their lives instead. That, dare he say, even his father might have been different.

Suddenly, there was a loud and very demanding knock at the door. Tyrion quickly jumping down from the chair and making his way to the rattling ingress. His eyes widening as he saw his father staring down at him. The old lion pushing past him and into the room. Tywin actually smiling, as (Y/n) stood up and made her way over to him.

"Good morning, my lord..............."

"Your rooms. It is high time that you were in your own rooms. I do not believe that my son will protest." Tywin said, glaring briefly at Tyrion before looking back to his beautiful new daughter.

"Though perhaps you should get dressed first..........." He continued, as he finally realised that (Y/n) was only dressed in a nightgown with a fur wrapped around her shoulders. The exquisite flower curtsying, before making her way behind the folding screen to dress. Leaving father and son in silence; both knowing that neither could say anything, that neither could ask anything. That no accusations or confessions would, or could be made, while (Y/n) was in the room.

"Can Tyrion come too?" (Y/n) asked, as she reappeared more suitably dressed. Tywin doing his best not to growl as he normally would. To not deny her request; the old lion in truth not wanting his youngest son to spoil (Y/n), like he would spoil everything else.

"Of course..........." The Hand simply replied. A warmth taking over him, as (Y/n) wrapped her arms around him. His fingers slowly combing through her hair for a moment, before she pulled away. The lion offering her his arm, and escorting her from the room, with Tyrion on tow.