Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter VI • We Few Bastards

"You must be Tyrion Lannister. It's a pleasure to meet you." She curtsied without missing a single beat, a smile so warm it could melt snow gleaming down upon him. It was not scathing, not like he was used to. "Have you been inside yet, my lord?"

"I have. Quite a party. Our hosts are very gracious."

Her lip tilted upward as she sat upon one of the low stone walls. "The Lord of Winterfell would be honored by such a compliment, no doubt."

"Would he? I didn't know getting a compliment from an imp was such an "honor", as you put it." He leaned against the wall next to her, finding himself smiling as the girl smirked.

"I'm sure he would see himself getting a compliment from a Lannister- and one who knows how to have a good time, from what I hear."

"Oh? And what do you hear about this Lannister?"

"Only good things, my Lord." She said, leaning slightly toward him. He enjoyed the heat he felt radiating from her like a warm fireplace. "I hear he enjoys wine, fancies reading, and has a clever tongue- in more ways than one."

"And what are your thoughts on these... hobbies?" She purses her pink lips, as pink as her rosy cheeks, and crossed her ankles.

"I would think... I quite prefer red wine myself, especially in abundance. Perhaps I would dare to ask which genre he preferred, as I often find myself reading historical events myself. And I'm afraid I've only used my tongue to speak, my Lord, although I find myself rather open-minded." She flashed him a flirty wink and stood. "I do hope you find our brothel caters to your needs. I hear only good things."

Tyrion watched as she went to walk away, perplexed as the young lady practically bounced toward the festivities.

That was when he remembered he hadn't caught one important detail.

"Wait! What is your name?"

She threw her head back, a great melodious laugh came from her. "It doesn't matter!"

And she was gone, and Tyrion was suddenly determined to find that firebrand again.

- - -

"And just where were you?" Robb asked as Lyon shuffled back inside.

"Out. Getting fresh air and whatnot." She took her seat at the table and found Arya nursing two plates across from her. One of them was Lyon's.

"I saw you leave with the queen. When she returned I was afraid you wouldn't." Robb took his seat next to Lyon.

Shaking her head, Lyon pulled her plate back to her despite a scathing look from Arya. "I'm sure if a member of the royal family was going to assassinate me they'd go about it with a bit more discretion." This brought Robb to smile. "Besides, I quite like the queen. She's a smart woman, strong."

"Be that as it may, I do not trust her."

"How rude." She said, taking the goblet of wine before her and emptying it in two fleeting sips. She filled it again and proceeded to watch as Sansa rose from the table and moved to their father's, coming to stand before the queen.

Cersei retained a tense look of emotional collection throughout the encounter, but Lyon could not see Sansa's expression. Lyon did her best to keep her eyes cast downward until a furry form brushed past her leg and she looked below the table.