Surprisingly, Tyrion was bored. Despite the copious amount of excellent wine, he was still bored. Even the pretty woman that were batting their eyelashes at the young lords, in hopes that (Y/n) wouldn't be the only one to find herself a husband, were boring him. This celebration feeling more like a funeral to Tyrion, than anything else. His father had scrimped on nothing for this. The old lion wanting to impress all the lords present; to remind them that they were vying for the hand of his daughter, not just any woman. And given that, that hand was going to cost them.
In his own way, Tyrion knew that their father was proud of (Y/n); far prouder than he was of their older sister, and certainly prouder than he was of him. Tywin even having told him, that his younger daughter was truly as intelligent as Cersei believed herself to be. That the way she dealt with the world and those around her, was far more diplomatic and long sighted than the queen. (Y/n) not prone to the arrogance or self-centredness that were Cersei's biggest faults. The old lion sure to point out to his youngest son, that his sister would have made a great heir, if she had been born a boy. But as it was, she was a woman; and in Tywin's world, women were used to form alliances, and (Y/n) would be no different. The increase of his power and reach, the continuation of his House, more important to the Hand of the King, than anything; even the happiness of his own child. The way that their father had dealt with Tyrion's own marriage, all the proof that he needed for that.
"I need ta talk ta ya............." A voice came, breaking the little lion from his ennui. Tyrion looking up to see Bronn standing behind his chair.
"Talk........yes we should talk. What am I paying you for, if you decide to go wandering off whenever the fancy takes you? And talking of fancies, which one of them was it you went after..........?" Tyrion replied, as he looked around the assembled ladies, wondering which one........or should that be, how many of them had caught the eye of the sellsword.
"Ya sister............."
"What..........!?" The little man exclaimed far louder than he had meant to. His father shooting him a glare, as Tyrion looked over at his sister, who had just retaken her seat next to her father. It obvious that (Y/n) was far from happy; that she had indeed been crying.
"Do ya want (Y/n) to be happy............?" The sellsword continued. Doing his best to look as though he and Tyrion weren't talking about anything at all.
"Of course. I don't want our father to ruin her life, as he has the rest of us............"
"Then I need ya help.............." Bronn continued. Tyrion slowly nodding his head; finishing his drink before discreetly getting down from his chair and following after the sellsword. The little lord intrigued as to what Bronn might be up to.
>>----------------------------------<<
(Y/n) took her seat next to her father. Doing her best to conceal the fact that she had been crying. The moment of the Dance of love, was getting closer and closer; and no matter how much she wished for it, time was not going to stop. Her father was never going to change his mind. So, all she could do was consign herself to her fate. All she could do was try and make the best choice possible, and know that even though her body may belong to the man she would marry; her heart would always belong to Bronn. The lioness doing her best to hold back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall, as she thought back to the sellsword's lips on hers.
"Have you made your choice?" Tywin asked. Not even bothering to turn his eyes to his daughter.
"Not yet, father. Though I would have thought my decision would have to be based on what they have offered you in way of a bribe. On which of them has been able to promise you the most............"
"You may not want this, but you will do as you are told. You are a lady, a lioness and duty comes before all else..............."
"And my happiness..........that means nothing to you..............?"
"Happiness? Happiness in marriage is overrated, a fickle feeling. You can learn to be happy in other ways. All you will have to do is allow your new husband to bed you on the odd occasion. Children, being a mother will bring you happiness. And if you provide me with a grandson, I may even name him as the heir to Casterly Rock. Better your child than your brother. For I have no intention of allowing him to turn our ancestral home into his own personal whorehouse..............." Tywin scoffed, as he took a drink from the goblet in his hand. (Y/n) having to wonder if her own mother had ever been happy. If she, just like her, had ever dreaded the thought of being married. If her heart had actually belonged to another, and not her cousin.
"Well, what more impetus could I need for giving myself to a man that I neither know nor care for.........." (Y/n) mocked, as she reached for her own glass.
"Do not worry father. I have no intention of lettingyou down. I will do my duty and marry the man that I dance with at the end ofthe night. I will care for his children, while he spends his nights with whores.I will be the dutiful wife, while he spends his days, hunting and drinking withhis friends. I will sew, gossip and eat lemon cakes, and think of myself asfortunate, that I am wed, and do not have to become a Silent Sister." Thelioness continued, before downing the contents of the glass and then refillingit. Hoping that the alcohol would numb her emotions, before she had to make herchoice.