Clandestine. 》 Tyrion Lannister 《

Memories

Tyrion slammed his chamber room door with such force he thought it might come off of its hinges. He couldn't remember that last time he was so embarrassed, so furious. The nerve of Jon Snow bewildered him. How could the bastard think such a vile thing of him. That he would take advantage of the girl while she was in such a state of self loathing and desolation. That he would take advantage of her at all!

He sat heavily at the table, pleased to see that his breakfast and ale were waiting for him. He smiled at the thoughtfulness of Daenerys. How they had gotten it there before him baffled him, but he didn't complain. He pushed aside the food, his appetite suddenly gone, but welcomed the taste of the ale as it made its way down his throat. 

"Galena," he spoke aloud, even though she wasn't around. "I am so sorry you had to go through that."

He sighed heavily, resting his elbow on the table, his head in his hand, and thought back to the first time they met.

He looked across the courtyard, staring at the girl tending to her horse. He smiled when she lovingly rested her head against its muzzle. She was beautiful, and he wondered why she was out here alone. He knew he shouldn't bother her, he knew he shouldn't approach her, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Why aren't you inside enjoying the festivities?" he asked as he approached her.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to him quickly. "My Lord." She bowed quickly, causing Tyrion to laugh.

"My Lady, please. I am not worthy of a curtsy." He smiled up at her, waiting for an answer from his previous question.

Her eyes searched his face. "I...I'm just a bastard. I'm not welcome in the great hall when royalty is here. I'm not even half Stark." 

He tilted his head at her. "Nonsense. You just can't sit at the table with them. And besides, I saw you with the Starks earlier today. Rather odd for a bastard who isn't family to fit in like family. You just don't want to be in there." He took a step closer to her. "What's your name, dear?"

She quickly turned back to her horse, hiding her reddening cheeks. "Jen Snow," she mumbled.

He smirked, gently taking her hand; a gesture that made her jump again. "What is your real name, Jen Snow?"

She turned to him, looking at him with puzzled eyes. "Galena," she whispered.

Her face was inquisitive. She was trying to figure him out. Trying to determine why he was so interested in her. Trying to decide whether or not he was trustworthy.

When she relaxed, he smiled at her again. "Why the fake name?"

She stepped away from her horse, sitting down on the bale of hay where her glass of wine sat. He followed when she offered him the flagon, sitting beside her.

She studied his face, reluctant to speak the truth, but for reasons she couldn't explain, she trusted him. "To protect my father. He's a man of the Night's Watch."

Tyrion's eyes lit up, and he nodded knowingly. "So you are half Stark." He took a drink from the flagon. "Benjen is your father." He pointed toward the building. "Isn't he here? Why aren't you with him? I can't imagine you see him very often."