A.N: This is the first part to a continuous FF. It will probably go for about five character views for each character (Tyrion and Bronn), so ten chapters. While it may go for longer, that's the minimum length of this short story. It's somewhat AU and therefore things will happen seemingly differently from the books/television show. Hope you enjoy and please review!

TYRION

"I don't like this Bronn."

"I don't like the fact that I'm not getting paid until we're back in King's Landing." Bronn mused back.

"Hm." Tyrion's eyes looked as though they were filled with concern. "You do recall that a Lannister always pays his debts, don't you?"

"I do. I'm just starting to not really give a shit. Paying your debts is one thing, paying them promptly is another." Bronn raised his brow suggestively back.

They'd been travelling on their lonesome for at least a week now in the forests beyond the Eyrie. They were dark and gloomy and seemed as if they'd been attacked by torrential and horrid rains at least every second day of the past three-hundred years. Truthfully, they were heart stoppingly frightening. Tyrion had never thought much of the cold and the wet. He much preferred the warmer climate of King's Landing. He much preferred it, even when he was forced to be in the company of his brilliant looking brother, Jaime and his atrociously arrogant and cunning sister, Cersei. Nonetheless these were all things he was willing to endure if he could get himself and his companion out of this god awful swamp land.

While Bronn might have been good company, he was starting to get fed up with the lacking payments. He was a loyal friend, that was certain, but how loyal he would remain when payments dropped another two weeks, Tyrion didn't know. He was after all a sellsword and regardless of how close they'd become over the time they'd spent together – it didn't change that.

So for a brief moment, Tyrion stood in silence and looked up at Bronn.

"You have a point there, Bronn."

"Don't usual speak unless I do." The sellsword spoke back smugly, shrugging his shoulders. "But never fear little man, I'm not going to lop your head off your shoulders anytime soon. I'd go crazy out here without a good conversation." Bronn smirked.

Tyrion let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, how ever so relieved I feel now."

The two men continued to trudge through the mud that was before them. The sound of trees moving with the wind were constantly grabbing Tyrion's attention and he couldn't help but reach a hand up towards Bronn every time – as if to suggest that the time was nearing for him to draw his blade and save the little dwarf. Tyrion had of course observed the glances Bronn had been giving him. It was amusing the sellsword and Tyrion didn't quite like being the source of laughter and humour.

"You know, you could at least be discrete about how much you find this funny." The dwarf piped sounding insistent that Bronn clean his act up.

"Oh? I do apologize, Lord Tyrion. I shan't look at you funny anymore. I forgot you were only a half man and couldn't take mockery!" Bronn spat back with a sarcasticness to his words.

Tyrion went silent and eyed the sellsword up.

"You've quite a mouth on you, Bronn; did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Once." He replied plainly.

"A wise man."

"A stupid one. He's dead now." Bronn explained before tracking off ahead.

Tyrion had stopped in his tracks and his eyes were frozen on Bronn walking off ahead. How he needed to get used to the company of a sellsword. How he needed to understand what was going to keep him alive and what was going to doom him to an early death.

The night drew on and the cold seemed to continue to grow. Bronn was far more prepared for this kind of weather. His dark cloak draped over his shoulders ensured obvious warmth and the hood that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere kept his greasy black-haired head warm. Rain trickled through the canopy of the above treetops and Tyrion struggled to pull his leather vest over his head. The dwarf took note of Bronn chuckling in the corner whilst he managed the fire and he couldn't help but pout a little. He looked exactly like a child now; sad and alone, absent of what he wanted. A true Lannister. A spoiled brat. Yes; he was starting to remind himself of his sister, Cersei.

"Why don't you come and sit by the fire?" Bronn invited.

"I'm fine where I am, thank-you." Tyrion turned his head away, reluctant to accept the help. He felt as though he had something to prove to the sellsword; as if he were capable of living out these horrid and foreign conditions without the help of anyone. Like a brave lion.

Bronn looked on from where he was perched, a smirk still tickling at the corner of his lips.

"Come on."

"No." Tyrion spoke back pointedly.

"Don't think I'm doing it because I care 'bout you. I want my money, Ser Lannister. Regardless of popular belief, a Lannister can't pay his debts from beyond the grave." Bronn tried to justify his kindnesses.

Tyrion didn't truthfully believe them – but it was enough for him to accept the help of the greasy-haired companion.

Uncurling from the ball he was in by the tree, Tyrion edged towards the fire and blinked quickly to guard his eyes from the trickling waters from above. Dropping down onto his buttocks, the dwarf cast a glance through the flame at Bronn.

"Shall I be taking first guard duty?"

"Only if I wanted to get myself killed." Bronn shot back. "No. I shall be taking the guard duty throughout the night. Go to sleep little lord. You need it. Your used to it." Bronn winked, teasing Tyrion and comparing him more to a princess than a Ser or a Lord of House Lannister.

Even still, reluctant, Tyrion lay his head down and closed his eyes. With a brief thought of home and the wine and food that awaited him, the little dwarf fell asleep feeling pleasant for the first time in quite a long time. Contentment amongst the wild. A disowned son amongst a sellsword and countless animals. Somehow, he just felt that it was appropriate.