Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book three

Cripples, bastards and broken things - Part 3 - Tyrion x Bronn x Reader

The heads of the people making their way through the streets, going about their daily business, and those of the merchants and sellers all turned, as the sellsword carried the silent beauty through the streets. Brows furrowing, as the little lion, with a large basket filled with bread, followed close behind. Admittedly, it must be quite a sight, the imp, his sellsword and the unspeaking woman making their way through Kings Landing like this. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. Bronn unable to stop himself from smiling, as the rescued woman suddenly tightened her grip around his neck; the sellsword having to admit that he could well see why Tyrion had been so fascinated by her. Why she had so caught the little man's attention. Her plump lips speaking to him, even if she couldn't. Bronn wondering if there was something she could do with that mouth, despite the fact that no words appeared to come from it. It also had him wondering what Tyrion was going to do with her, once she had been checked by a maestre. The sellsword sure that all in the Keep would just presume that she was another whore that bedded the little lion for the gold in his purse.

"(Y/n)........!?" A voice suddenly called out. The trio stopping, as a rather plump and gruff looking, red-faced woman, stepped out in front of them.

"Where ya takin tha lass? Put her down............" She continued, rather demandingly. Her arms crossing firmly over her chest, as she glared at the sellsword.

"I haven't got time for this woman. Get out.............."

"Now, Bronn............" Tyrion interrupted, as he stepped forward and placed down the basket. The diminutive lord not sure how (Y/n) managed to carry the rather heavy and cumbersome thing all around the city; Tyrion sure that she must be much stronger than she looked.

"Please, my dear lady; there is no need to be concerned............"

"No need to be concerned? I know all about you, and that one anole. If ya after a woman, there are plenty on tha Street of Silk for ya. (Y/n)'s a good girl. She would never........."

"I have no doubt about that. But you see, this young lady was just attacked by four ruffians; and if not for the timely intervention of myself and my friend here, things may have ended quite badly for her. Though, unfortunately, she was hurt during the altercation, so I am having her taken to the Keep so that I can have her looked at by a maestre.............."

"What, old Pycelle? I know what he gets up to, as well. Pretendin ta be all virtuous, while gettin his cock sucked by some poor young woman........"

"I assure you, Grand Maestre Pycelle will get nowhere near her. I will have some other maestre come and look at her. And after she has recovered, she is free to come back............" Tyrion explained, as the rather severe appearing female looked between him and the woman that was still in Bronn's arms. The sellsword getting to the point where he wished that she had been part of the fight, too. That he could have run her through, so that he wouldn't have to put up with this, now. Tyrion being far to nice, as far as sellsword was concerned.

"(Y/n). Is that true...........?" The woman continued. Her voice much softer than it had been when addressing the men. A sigh leaving her lips, as (Y/n) slowly nodded.

"And ya want ta go ta tha Keep with these two.............?" (Y/n) looking at the two men, as the question was asked; the silent woman so thankful for what they had done. Well aware that she was hurt, and that without the continued help of the lord and his man, it might be some time before she could get to her jobs. (Y/n) giving them both a little smile, before nodding again.

"Alright. But if there is any funny business.................."

"Fear not. There will be no business, funny or otherwise." Tyrion retorted. Nodding to the woman as she finally removed her form from in front of them; allowing the trio to continue on their way.

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(Y/n) stared, wide-eyed, as she was carried into the Keep. It was true that she had made many deliveries for all manner of the merchants and sellers in the city, to the castle over the years; but she had never been inside, and certainly nowhere near the part where the likes of the king and his Hand, lived. It like nothing she could have imagined; the scene making her feel quite small.

She must admit that being carried into the great Red Keep by the man of a Lannister, was not how she had expected her day to go. It had started off so normally, (Y/n) already having made some deliveries, before she had been to collect the bread. So, this, and how she had got to this point, had most definitely caught her off guard. Her attention turning from the scene to the man that carried her, and the one that carried her large basket.

(Y/n) had heard much of the little lord, and of his sellsword since he had come to the capital; admittedly, most of which had not been good, the people referring to the youngest son of old Tywin, as many things that were less than complimentary. Yet he had helped her. He had rescued her from an awful fate, when so many others would just have walked by. The sellsword dispatching the men, at his word, so that they couldn't hurt her, or anyone else, again. The silent woman deciding, that despite what others may say about these two men, she quite liked them.

"Place her on the bed............" The diminutive lord suddenly said, as he pushed open a door. The taller man doing as he was told and placing her on the rather grand bed.

"Now, take the bread back into the city and deliver it, while you find me another maestre to come and check on our guest." Tyrion continued, as he picked up a quill, some ink and a few blank parchments from his desk; ignoring the grumbling of the sellsword as he took up the basket and made his way out of the room. The youngest Lannister watching as the door closed behind Bronn, before he took a seat on the bed next to (Y/n) and handed her the parchment.

"Well, while we wait, why don't you tell me all about yourself." Tyrion added, as he dipped the quill into the ink, and placed it in her hand.