So for anyone following me, waiting for me to finish my FioLeeBall fic, I'm actually feeling a little better. After writing this and my new Beetlejuice oneshot (that I will be posting soon), I'm actually feeling a little better about the recent events in my life. I don't know, writing about other people suffering was oddly therapeutic. That probably means something is wrong with me, but at least I'm honest right?
SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS
Anyway, the following is sort of my headcannon of the events following the Battle of Blackwater. I watched the last two episodes of season two last night, and once again I was just… seriously floored by the romance between Shae and Tyrion. They're most definitely my favorite couple in the series, and two of my favorite characters, and I just love the dynamic between them. It's very touching to me that Tyrion can be this cunning, funny, somewhat devious guy who is seemingly unaffected by the way others perceive and mistreat him, but with Shae he allows this inner loneliness and vulnerability to show, and is terrified of her seeing his mutilated face and by the prospect of her leaving him for her safety, so much so that when she gets angry with him for being so stupid and tells him she isn't leaving, he breaks down and cries.
Shit, I cried. Like a baby.
And I think, after all he did to save the city and his family, only to be basically totally dismissed by that ungrateful lot, and learning that Cersei had actually tried to kill him, he would definitely succumb to emotional exhaustion and become depressed, which would piss Shae off until she was forced to intervene. So this is a scene I've imagined, perhaps a week after the battle, where Shae finally does something about it.
She had finally gotten him to crawl out of bed. She'd been successful in getting him to take a bath, though only after she'd bribed him with sex in the tub. She had even convinced him to open the windows in the room to let the sunshine in. And, when he was reduced to chocking sobs from the pain, he was forced to concede with the woman's demand that he allow her to dose him with drugs.
Still, he refused to actually leave the room. He told her it was because he was still tired, still groggy, and that the medicine the treacherous maester had given them made his head spin and his stomach turn. Shae knew it was a lie, but Tyrion could not be budged. He doubted he would step over the threshold even if she stood naked in the hallway with a horn of whiskey in each hand.
Shae hated seeing Tyrion act this way… it frightened her. Where was her courageous, cunning lion? When had he been replaced by this pathetic, pouting jackass, wallowing in a state of self-loathing and depression? So he had a little scratch on his stupid face. So his disgusting excuse for a family had tossed him aside. That didn't excuse his behavior!
Shae watched him from behind the doorframe as he stood in the center of the room, staring blankly at the covered vanity in the corner. She'd gone to fetch something tasty to entice him with, some wine and a few pastries she knew Tyrion was fond of, and had come back to this scene. The Imp had noticed the desk the day after he'd regained consciousness, and had promptly (almost hysterically) ordered a sheet be thrown over the polished metal mounted on top of it.
Now he stood, staring at it as if all the answers he sought lay under the cover, and was trying to gather the courage to pull the sheet back.
Maybe you'll find your balls under there, too, Halfman. Shae thought to herself. If they weren't cut off like your nose nearly was…
As if he had sensed her thoughts, Tyrion's face suddenly set itself into a determined expression. He waddled on legs weak from remaining in bed so long to the mirror and wrestled with the cloth until he finally managed to pull it free. The sight of his disfigured face in the mirror caused the dwarf to visibly tense. She could see his shoulders go rigid and his hands clench as Tyrion looked at his injury for the first time.
Despite her annoyance with his self-pitying state, Shae felt her heart ache for him.
His clever fingers lifted to the angry slash, probing the still tender flesh around the wound. He cringed and gasped as the gentle touch reawakened the pain, and allowed his hand to drop to his side once more. Then Tyrion simply stood there, his eyes sad and a little line between his brow as it furrowed under the weight of whatever thought was currently working through his mind. After a minute had passed, the prostitute wondered if she should announce her presence, but before she could decide to, he did something very shocking.
He pulled a face.
It was a comical expression, and Shae nearly laughed. His lips were peeled back in a snarl and his eyes were wide, and he let out a little growl to top it all off. His face returned to its neutral expression, and he turned his head to the side, to examine the upper part of his scar. Once again he pulled an aggressive face at himself in the mirror. It was an ugly expression, one that made him look like a troll. He changed again, this time cupping his chin with one head while he tilted his head back and to the side, one eyebrow quirked up, giving him a cynical look as he peered down his nose at his reflection. His axe, which Shae had carefully cleaned and sharpened for him after the battle, was leaning against the wall by the bed. He walked over to retrieve it, then returned to the mirror and lifted the weapon as if he was going to smash it through the mirror. However, he simply held it above his head and snarled at his reflection again.
After a few seconds, he lowered the axe and just stared.
She could see his face in the mirror, and once again her heart hurt to see the sadness there. She watched him fold one arm on the desk to pillow his head, and heard him heave a sigh that was muffled by his sleeve.
Shae abandoned her hiding spot then, and crossed the room to lean against her diminutive lover.
Tyrion knew it was her. He knew the warmth of her shapely body as it pressed against his back. He could smell the sweet, spicy fragrance she preferred. And he knew, very well, the lovely, firm breasts that rested on the back of his head as she leaned over him and began to fiddle with something on the desk. He remained the way he was however, with his face buried in his arm. He didn't want to argue with her again, and thought that maybe, if he simply ignored his love, she would leave him be for once.
She remained bent over him though, trapping him against the desk while she did whatever women did in the mirror, and he had to admit having her pressed against him with her breasts on either side of his head, keeping his ears warm, was actually quite pleasant. He just hoped she wouldn't speak.
"Look, Tyrion." I knew it was too much to hope for. Maybe if I just pretend I'm asleep- Tyrion hissed as her fingers dug into his scalp, forcing him to lift his head and look at the mirror. "I said look!"
His eyes widened in shock at the image reflected on the metal. As a reward for his compliance, she removed her fingers from his hair and instead slid them under his chin, tickling his throat and allowing her breasts to cover his scalp once again while she smiled softly at him in the mirror. The brush was still in her other hand, and the makeup was slowly running down over her fingers. The color matched the splash of paint across her face, stretching from above her left eye to her right cheek bone. Her brushstrokes had been careful and measured, and now she bore a fake scar to match his own.
"You see, My Lion? Now, we are the same."
Emotion swamped him at her words, a great tidal wave of emotion that metaphorically knocked him off his feet. He felt sorrow, joy, amusement, relief, but most of all…
"Heh." For the first time since before the battle, the corners of his mouth curled up in a genuine smile. "Is it any wonder I love you so much?"
Hope you enjoyed that. Please leave a review!