"Mercy."
By B.B. Asmodeus.
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Fandom: Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire.
Pairings: Jon Snow/Tyrion Lannister; Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth.
Rating: Explicit.
Categories: AU-Like-You-Have-No-Idea. Fix-it fic. Close to crack!fic, but not yet. Omega 'verse. Romance, Humor, Drama, Suspense. Alternate reality of 8x04 / 8x06. Jumps in time.
Spoilers: Books, Seasons 1-8.
Timeline: This chapter starts in 8x04 "The Last of the Starks." After the feast, some things will change, though.
Summary: Daenerys was intrigued by his request. She acted as if Jon had stuttered, tilting her face with the curiosity of a lethal bird. "Forgive Tyrion." Jon mumbled. "Show mercy." "Why, because you love him?"
WARNING: I, by no means, consider myself to be an expert at military strategies. But hey, I tried my best. Hope it stills entertains you. Also, I have studied the maps of King's Landing, but what D&D gave us doesn't make sense. I ended up with a weird mash of the two canons.
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i.
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"Cause I've done some things that I can't speak
And I've tried to wash you away
but you just won't leave"
-Halsey "Haunting. "
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Before.
Winterfell.
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JON II
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"Ah! Pardon me. Must be drunker than I thought… Suddenly all doors look quite alike."
Jon, who had been in the process of removing his leather jerkin, froze with the unexpected incursion in his bedroom. It irritated him more than expected, his privacy invaded for a second time on the same night.
His confrontation with Dany still intoxicated him. The last thing he needed was Lord Tyrion bringing more emotional conundrums to his door.
Feeling drained, Jon pulled off the rest of his jerkin, and threw it to chest at the bottom of the bed.
Seeing Tyrion still standing in the doorway, Jon rolled his eyes. "Make up your mind, then. You're letting the cold in."
"Mm. Yes. A real tragedy for our balls, considering what we have overcome to preserve them." The wooden door squeaked, telling Jon it had been closed again. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Lannister tilt vertiginous to his right in his attempt to get closer to the fire. Jon smiled to himself, despite the circumstances.
The smell of Dornish wine was detectable to his sensitive nose. The Alpha recognized the sweetness. And underneath, a dense layer of something else. Something spicy.
"By the Seven. What has she done to you now, boy?"
Jon bared his teeth.
Tyrion bent his head at the command to back down. He dropped into the chair previously occupied by Daenerys, close to the fireplace. The Half-Man breathed deeply, evaluating the residues of pheromones still imprinted in the place.
Jon waited for another cruel jest.
"Like fresh meat cooking over coals, don't you think?"
"Pardon me?" Jon piqued back, removing his boots. Then he stood, his gaze still focused on the lingering memories.
He could still hear Dany begging him.
"The comparison dawned on me after she rained fire down on the Tarlys. The poor bastards." The grumble was soon followed by a heavy sigh. "The smell. Quite suited for her, don't you agree? Pork meat on hot coals, angrily hissing, but at the same time enticing for a bite. I suppose it's a quite a tempting scent for a wolf like you. "
Jon snorted. "I'm not interested in exchanging sweet poems about our Queen一"
"Poems, biological urges. What is the difference?"
"You're drunk." Jon rubbed his forehead, falling on the feather bed. "You're not talking sense."
"What did she want?" Tyrion tilted his face toward him with the fragility of the rag dolls Sansa had played with as a child. "What did she do to you?"
Jon raised his eyes to Tyrion's level. Their gazes connected. The warmth identified all over the bedroom.
Licking his lips, Jon chose to circle around the issue. "She smells like blood. Like an open wound, still bleeding. At least to me."
The shadows were in Tyrion's favor, covering half his expression. It made him hard to read. His voice, however, was a drop of poison when it made it out of his lips. "Convenient. One could almost argue you two were predators fated to meet. A perfect compatibility waiting to happen."
"No." Jon whispered. "What attracts me to her it's something that petrifies me. She reminds me of when I used to stare down the Wall in Castle Black, and saw darkness looking back." That wasn't how a compatibility should feel like, was it? Jon was beginning to doubt it.
A long pause allowed the confession to sink in. Jon thought it would stop the interrogation about his -anticlimactic- love life to go on.
He was wrong.
"You're sweet with her." The whisper sounded like a reproach. "You're gentle, like a lovesick boy. You don't seem petrified when you're with her, nor around her… at least you didn't used to. Now, well… Seems you'd rather go in the opposite direction that to cross words with her. Why is this? What has happened?"
Jon frowned. "Nothing."
"Something has surely changed."
Jon was silent.
"I saw her on the way out of here, Jon. Her face was made out of stone."
So much for an accidental invasion, then. Jon wasn't really surprised. "I assure you, m'Lord, if you're concerned about the North taking up arms against our Queen for a trifling disagreement-"
"I wasn't talking about the political health of our alliance."
"Really? That would be a first. "
Tyrion's laugh was colored with surprise. "Good boy. You are learning."
The appreciation.
It lit up something in Jon he had thought extinct ages ago. Good boy.
-Good boy. Tyrion had whispered, curled up against thick tree roots with an open book on his lap. -Sweet boy.
"If you prefer I can walk you up to your quarters, my Lord. Seeing the great challenge steps represent for you at the moment."
"Ah. In addition of an improved understanding of political relationships, I see you have also acquired a sense of humor. Would surprises never cease tonight?"
Jon smiled.
Tyrion sighed. "I've slept in worse places. You know that. Just allow me a short rest near the fire and I'll be gone before dawn. I will only require one little more demonstration of hospitality to warm my legs and my cold balls..."
Jon threw him one of the bed's furs.
"Uff! So uncivilized!" Tyrion's curls flowed from the top of the skins, while the half-man squirmed around the chair. A quite peculiar sight.
"Anything else you might need?"
Finally able to breath again, the Lion stretched his body across the chair's length, trying to find a better position. "Just one last question."
The snarl was already rising from his throat.
"Oh, settle down, old wolf! I promise it doesn't involve complicated issues with unsatisfied women nor proverbial stabbings in anyone's back."
Jon sighed. "What is it?" The sound of boots hitting the ground from Tyrion's direction attracted his attention back to his guest. He found the Half-Man intense eyes sparkling red, the flames almost living inside them.
"How does it feel? To fly in one of those beasts."
Oh.
Jon thought about it. Then, he got distracted, since Tyrion Lannister, covered from chest to toes with Jon's skins, did something to his insides. It felt sharp, a needle prick between his ribs.
Guided by nostalgia, Jon replaced the reality with the echo from the past - Tyrion curled up in a similar fashion on the way to Castle Black. Brazen enough to keep searching for Jon Snow's body heat, as long as Uncle Benjen's frowned brown wasn't directed at their way.
It was hard to consolidate his past self with the person he was now. That naive boy. The Jon who'd stuttered and choked on his own saliva, every time Tyrion Lannister had opened his own mouth to provide witty remarks.
"It must be quite the experience."
Jon blinked hard. He centered himself back in the present. At the skins of his own bed he needed to pull back to finally get in the damn thing.
"Certainly, there are no words to describe it." Placing one knee on the surface, Jon smiled. "Guess you'll have to try it to found out."
The shock was gratifying.
"Rhaegal is shy. He has a calmer temper that Drogon for sure. We could try to convince him to take you on a flight before marching south. "
"Convince a dragon, he says." An incredulous laugh jumped in the air. "How exactly does that work in your world of madness?"
At finally dropping his head on the pillow, a satisfied moan went out of Jon's mouth. "Aren't you a master at adulation? I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Isn't he hurt, though?"
"With all due respect, Rhaegal would barely feel your weight on its back, my Lord."
"Jon Snow!" Tyrion screeched. "I knew underneath that sanctimonious face, lived a creature wearing long and sharp fangs!"
Jon surprised himself with his own snort.
"And enough of this m'Lord nonsense." Came another whine. "We know each other better than that."
It was a defense, Jon admitted. A way for Jon to get away from the heat seething across the room and the sweetness filling up his nostrils. Even after all these years, Tyrion smelled the same. And even after all these years, the yearning inside Jon reached back from its core, finding compatibility and resonance between them. Tyrion was no longer the only Omega he had met, but he still was the only one Jon liked a little bit too much.
"I blame it on the soberness making his way back to me."
Another pause. Heavier than before.
"I know how we can remedy such tragedy."
Of course. Jon closed his eyes, squeezing her eyelids. Of course Tyrion would opt for getting even more drunk. Only that way the younger Lannister got his courage. Jon felt infectious by the boldness.
"Tyrion." He teased.
The name floated around the four walls of the stoned bedroom.
"Tyrion." He repeated, his tone lowered to a soft growl.
-"Please don't do this." Dany's begging came back. Her phantom voice shook his entire skull, tearing down the walls. Setting everything on fire. -"Nobody has to know."
"Aye. That's my name." Gold cut through the fire; liquid gold pouring from the Omega's lips straight to Jon's ear. "Don't wear it out, Jon. "
"I dreamed of you." Jon closed his eyelids. He pretended to be alone, so the whisper ripped from him felt less rough. "Once. After coming back."
"By coming back, you mean…"
"When I woke up with seven stab wounds on my chest, and one in my heart. That's what I meant."
Tyrion went silent as a clam, then.
Jon continued.
"Upon coming back, my sigh wasn't working properly. I couldn't find the color of things. Just grey. Didn't recognize the white of the snow. Or the black of my brother's furs. Not even Ghost's eyes shined red. The sky was this… pale piece of parchment hanging over me. I kept my mouth shut, though. I didn't want to hear from the Red Woman I'd… come back wrong somehow. "
"Shit."
"A day. A whole bloody day I walked around in terror. Then, when I couldn't hold back sleep no more… I dreamed of you." A golden dream, yellow liquid dripping over the ice. "When I woke, I could see colors again."
Expecting another long period of stunned silence一Tyrion's soft snoring perhaps一he was surprised of what he got.
The sounds of the skins being thrown on the floor.
Curious, Jon rose on his elbows.
He found Tyrion padding on wool-covered feet in his direction, eyes wide open. Jon's gaze tracked him all the way to the bed, watching him pass the wooden chest and jumping around the boots Jon had kicked off early on.
Then, he just stopped, mere inches from Jon's covered legs.
"What did you dream about?" Tyrion whispered, holding onto the fur with short fingers. He continued to stare at Jon as if he was being gutted. "Tell me."
Jon held still. "Something that never happened."
Tyrion grimaced.
"Remember. This never happened." The young Lion from his memories remarked, lips blue from the freezing cold of the Wall. "It's just… it would be such a tragedy. Every man deserves to know the taste of a kiss. One that did not come from their mother. You didn't have even that."
Above the wall, both walking along the iced edge of the Wall with most of his limbs numbed, such stupidity hadn't been considered such a bad idea.
The occurrence has never been discussed again, both men faithful to the established pact. Neither subsequently to their reunion on Dragonstone's bay, nor after all the hard, bloody and terrible events that had followed it. Tyrion had been a different man, no longer shining gold and full of flirty smirks.
It had been easier for Jon to be blinded by another kind of gem; a demanding woman who's strong will had filled him with hunger and desire.
Until now.
When he felt Tyrion's touch, Jon froze.
The Omega's right palm crossed the plain of Jon's abdomen. The grey nightgown was lifted slowly, continuing only when Jon gave permission with a tilt of his chin.
"Gods." Tyrion's reaction was not very dissimilar from Dany's, at seeing the scars. Both had the shock in common. "Do they still hurt?"
"No." As the fingers went up to his chest, Jon's torso descended back on the bed. "I don't feel anything."
"My sweet boy. You wear the scars on the outside, when most of us wear them on the inside. "
The light scratch over his nipples burned一whether this was intentional, or not. Jon hissed through clenched teeth. Desire was a revelation, then. Heat focused on his guts, slipping to his manhood like a new-born fever.
Suddenly, Tyrion's vulnerable position made him prey. Jon caught both of his wrists with his hands with a snarl. His gaze pinned the Lannister in place, though all Jon could see was the scars Tyrion wore himself.
The draw between them had always been natural.
This. It was something else entirely.
Jon felt the confirmation run through him, letting the want flow through his body. This time, when the Alfa felt like staking a claim, Jon didn't stop it. He recalled Daenerys's kiss, the brief pleasure of her mouth against his, before reality had forced him to stop. It had felt like cutting his chest open一an never-healed open wound, indeed.
This time, Jon wasn't able to have the same control.
This time, when the Alfa expressed its hunger, Jon echoed it.
The sound Tyrion emitted would always be remembered by him. A compound of surprise and excitement at being lifted off the floor and thrown to bed in one swift movement. His passionate disbelief was laughable.
The explosion of their pheromones, not so much.
Panting, Tyrion shivered beneath him, just like Daenerys had, naked and bowed.
Then the Lion bared his claws. He began pulling at Jon's nightgown urgently. Jon followed in excitement, passing the piece of clothing over his head. He felt Tyrion's nimble hands in his pants, pulling at the laces. Jon laughed, not really knowing what to do with his own hands.
"Tear the damn leather off if you have to." Tyrion inserted his palm inside his groin as soon he had the opportunity. They both moaned at the contact.
"I would need…" Jon hissed at the exquisite feeling. "...for you let go first."
Tyrion, on the contrary, massaged his cock up and down with a vengeance. "I'm trying, believe me. My body refuses to obey, though… a cruel dilemma, really. "
Jon had to work with what he could, wrapping his arms around Tyrion to laid them in parallel over the bed, both on their sides. Pants were the most difficult to take care of. At some point Jon saw the Hand insignia fly across the bed, still inserted into the the black leather, followed by all the rest of the obstacles between their bodies.
Immerse at their physical desperation, it didn't take long for their mouths to seal together for the second time in their lives. This time Tyrion's lips were not frozen, and his tongue was an outstanding addition. There was nothing platonic this time. Jon groaned, free, releasing all his frustration一All the tension locked inside him since Sam had spoken to him in the crypts.
"Shit," Tyrion kissed his face, his chin, his nose一his grunts losing coherence while Jon fisted his cock, over and over. "Jon." The moan vibrated against the Alpha's neck.
Jon gently massaged the stiff member. Then his fingers traveled further, slipping down the source of natural moisture. Tyrion nipped at the corner of his mouth in retaliation. The Omega held on to Jon's shoulders, crying out when a finger pierced his center.
Jon did not stop.
Wet folds pressed around his two fingers; the Omega surrendered with a whimper and nothing else.
His fingers pierced the flesh easily, scissoring and exploring to see what made Tyrion twist the hardest and swear the loudest. Through it all, Jon never stopped kissing him, saliva running down their chins. It became another kind of battle, their bodies clashing. They behaved like the strangers they were to each other.
Using clever words was Tyrion's passion, but unlike him, Jon knew words didn't work quite well for him.
So he let his skills express his interest, fingers fucking in and out, stimulating the Omega's center until it spasmed into a premature climax. More lubrication run through his fingers. Tyrion clawed at his chest whilst riding Jon's hand until the dying end.
Approving, Jon grunted when the Lion's small hands moved down his abdomen, bypassing the scars to return to his cock一which has only gotten harder.
"Oh… to be so young again." Tyrion murmured against Jon's reddened cheek. "Wait. I haven't done this..." A muffled groan interrupted their next kiss. "...in a while."
"Have you forgotten how?"
Tyrion laughed. "Oh, the insolence." He retaliated with a harsh tug at the base of the Alfa's cock, teasing the area of his knot. Jon found that indeed the dwarf had not forgotten anything. "Let me breathe, boy. I refuse to take you like a flushing maid."
Feeling the first push, Jon resisted, just to get more fire out of the Omega. His mirth caused a stronger assault, and this time, Jon rolled over the feathered bed. His fingers unlinked from the soft cunt in the process.
Jon wiped the wetness over the furs, panting and breathing the same taste coursing through his palate.
"Ah. Now this is a sight I will always cherish. A Wolf at my mercy." Tyrion caressed Jon's chest softly, considering him for a moment. Then he came upon Jon, one of his legs stretching to surround the Alpha's lap and mount him. "Better than freezing over at the Edge of the World, is it not?" Jon's hands held the Omega's waist, aiding his balance. "No grumkins or snarks snooping in the shadows."
"Just us." Jon's gaze lingered on Tyrion's own scars, collected over the years. They remind him of the stories he still did not know.
Daenerys ached to return to his mind. Jon shook his face to warned her off.
Tyrion guided Jon's cock straight to his opening and fell, fire melting gold in his eyes. "Just us."
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Now.
King's Landing.
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TYRION I
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Tyrion awoke to the sound of screams.
-Not again. The pain in the middle of his big head made it hard to think. -Not so soon.
Was he stuck reliving the same nightmare over and over again, as punishment by the Seven Gods? Tyrion grunted, blinking to reorient himself.
Rolling his body around until he was face up, he recognized the upper part of the tent. And the smell of horse manure.
Cries of soldiers grew more distinguishable to his ears, then. Tyrion's body lurched, and started to rise from the ground.
Just then, the tent's curtain opened. Arya Stark was a cold face appearing in front of him. "We have to go."
Tyrion did not even blink. "Where exactly?"
"Away." The girl was certainly well prepared for it, judging by the dark hooded robe hanging from her shoulders. Tyrion had the feeling then, that he'd lived all this before一this meeting with Sansa's caustic sister, barking orders at him. He tentatively accepted the girl's gloved hand. "Jon is losing."
Tyrion stood still. His fingers tightened around the girl's wrist.
The smell lingered. The smell of death.
The terror in the air was still distinguishable; thick as smoke.
It wasn't a nightmare stuck in his head, Tyrion realized. It was a damned repetition.
He left the tent quickly, ironically pulling Lady Stark along with him.
Over their heads, dragons flew past them, one chasing after the other. Tyrion recognized them immediately.
By the looks and the sound of the carnage, Northerners were facing the Dothraki at the front of the Gods Gate. The sand of the battlefield was being painted red with the infantry's best efforts to resist.
Rhaegal threw sporadic waves of fire to gain more advantage in the field, but Drogon was running his own siege against him.
Against Jon.
"We have to help him."
"Ser Davos can't waste archers." Arya pulled at his forearm, though less firm than the previous attempt. "And arrows don't work on dragons."
"What about the Scorpions? Were all destroyed? "
Arya seemed to consider it. Blood stained her neck, and her hair was messy. The Wolf girl had obviously faced her own frays in her return to the camp. "Jon made me promise…"
"Save me the martyrdom notions of that honorable fool." Tyrion hissed. "You got me out of that tower, girl, you better do something useful with me now. I have a plan." The girl bared her own teeth, snarling at the Dwarf. Tyrion, however, didn't give a shite about the little Alpha's territorial warnings. "We have to help your brother. Daenerys will burn him alive otherwise. "
He wasn't saying anything Arya Stark hadn't already summarized. The girl was too clever to pretend the contrary.
It was honor holding her back, then. Stupid honor that had get many Starks killed already. "Jon was willing to pay the price. He wanted us out of King's Landing before the counter-attack began."
"Which tells me Jon knows he won't be able to beat her but plans to die trying anyway." Tyrion couldn't stand the thought of it. Not after all the death he has seen already. "Jon isn't an experienced rider like the Queen. Worse yet, Drogo is stronger that Rhaegal. He cannot beat them alone… He'll need all the aid he can get."
A pained screech broke from the sky, the Dance of Dragons taking its toll.
Arya lifted the hood over her head. "What exactly is this plan of yours?"
"Queen Daenerys didn't burn all Scorpions atop the Gods Gate. I saw it with my own eyes. She destroyed the entrance, but didn't bother to burn the artillery on the walls."
In response, Arya ran in the opposite direction she had wanted to drag him in. Thanks the Gods.
Tyrion followed her, biting at her heels.
They were forced to go around the edge of the camp, away from the bay, and towards the entrance of King's Landing. Tyrion prepared himself along the way as well, pocketing a discarded pair of knives from the ground一easy to conceal and carry一and an old rag to cover his head with. The battle cries only grew stronger as Lion and Wolf chose to be part of the chaos.
They found shelter behind a sand dune, scanning the scene.
"It's funny. I do not recall walking to that tent on my own. Yet, there I was."
Without taking her eyes off the field, the Stark girl smirked. "You wouldn't shut up, M'Lord."
"So you knocked me out?"
"We would've been discovered in half a second if I hadn't. You kept crying out for your brother like a babe."
Tyrion's face burned under his beard.
He was the first to admit he had been in quite a delusional state after the destruction of the capital. After discovering Cersei's body in the ruins, his own mind had liked to add Jaime's everytime he had closed his eyes. The vision had haunted him, unconscious or not.
There was so much bile a man could throw up. Much less half of a man.
The Northerners and the Defenders of the Eyrie were holding on in the barren field, doing his best to outweigh the remaining Dothraki dogs Daenerys had unleash on them. Ser Davos was ordering the men to recede into the Kingswood to avoid being less of an open target. A good call.
Sadly, Tyrion noticed the numbers only suffered more by the minute. Daenerys kept raining fire on Jon's troops everytime she had the chance. Tyrion frowned at the lack of black helmets in the battle. -Where in the Seven hells are the Unsullied?
Beyond the slaughter, Tyrion finally saw the four still functional Scorpions atop the walls. He almost wept with the visual confirmation. He tugged at the Wolf girl's sleeve to let her know.
"We can go through the Mud Gate." Arya whispered.
"That's a long way from here." Rhaegal flew near them just in that moment. It exhaled a new path of fire to the front lines, allowing a barrier of fire to help the Northerners escape into the woods. Tyrion was surprised at how long Jon and the dragon were resisting from above. Perhaps he was being too pessimistic. "How pausable you reckon it would be to ask for a ride?"
Arya Stark had never looked more delighted at something coming out of a Lannister's mouth.
Tyrion swallowed. "I was jesting."
"Wouldn't hurt to try."
"Rhaegal could easily melt you, as it could help you. We both know now why the thing is fond of Jon, but we might be a different story."
"It's Jon's dragon." Stark's expression was a mix of wonder and stubbornness.
Jon's dragon. As if that held a greater meaning. Tyrion well remembered the old Songs about the gigantic creatures. But he also remembered their tragic demises.
He sighed. "We cannot risk being seen by Daenerys and become a target. Jon cannot afford the distraction."
Fortunately for her, Arya Stark had inherited the cold head Jon Snow lacked. "The hard way it is, then."
Tyrion nodded.
The hard way, was also going to prove to be the bloodiest one.
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End of Part i.
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AN: So. Tyrion finally rode a dragon! ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)
Also, I'm so sorry for the wait. Please consider that first I update the spanish version and then comes the translation of the new chapter. It's a liiiiitle time-consuming.