"Tywin was always disappointed in me. In every way…and no matter what I did, it never changed. He always regarded me with disdain," he sipped. "And I tried," he continued. "I did. Tried to be the son he wanted, but…alas," he smiled very slightly. "At any rate, Tywin and I were never close. It would not be an exaggeration to say it was hostile," he sipped again. He had related this much to her before.
Dany was watching him raptly. "But someone loved you."
"Yes. Jaime," he nodded. "My brother, until very recently, loved me. But that, Daenerys, strays too far from the point," he sat back with his cup. "I had grown fond of…" he paused. "Pleasures of the flesh," he said delicately. "And I sought those who could aid me in my quest.I even fell in love. Twice," he took a long draught. "My second love…her name was Shae," and he stopped a moment, for he had not uttered her name in so very long.
Dany shifted. She wasn't jealous of a couple of whores whom Tyrion had once loved, but it was upsetting to see him uncomfortable. "Are you all right?"
He nodded very slightly. "I haven't thought of her in some time."
Her gaze fell. "What did you love about her?"
Tyrion took a long breath as though to regain his senses. "Her wit. She was quick."
"She was bright?"
"Mmm," he traced the lip of the cup with his fingertip. "No…not bright. But cunning. And, as I said, quick witted."
She nodded. "Go on."
He smiled at her, then poured more wine. "I hid her at the Red Keep…she was in my chambers, stowed away, then I disguised her as a servant. Unfortunately, Cersei has a twisted sense of humor, and she had the Lady Sansa marry me."
"You were married?" her feet hit the floor.
"To Sansa Stark. Yes."
"Did you love her?" her voice was commanding.
"I said that I loved two women, and that Shae was the second. By that math, no. I did not love Sansa, but I did pity her."
She sat back, swallowing. It hadn't occurred to her that he had been married…but then, so had she. "Go on."
"Thank you," he smiled. "So…there I was, married to Sansa Stark and in love with a whore who was jealous of my wife. She would not listen to reason. She thought that I was ashamed of her, and did not see it as me protecting her.
And then, Joffrey was killed," he sipped long. "I don't know who killed him exactly…though I have some thoughts. And Cersei believed me responsible. So, I was put on trial. A joke, really. I was never going to be found innocent. And there I was…and Tywin, sitting there, sentenced me. And Jaime set me free…" he filled his cup again. "I had been found guilty of nothing save being a dwarf, and they decided I had killed my nephew," he chuckled. "He was the worst person, to be sure. But me, murder?" he looked at Dany. "Only under very specific circumstances could I ever commit murder."
"Such as…?"
"Such as finding the woman I loved in my father's bed waiting for him after I was sentenced. Such as she then trying to kill me…such as my life being in danger, by the hands of the woman I loved…" his gaze fell. He swallowed. "She was a fool," he spat. "She was such a fool…" he sighed, closed his eyes. "I had a crossbow. Found it…and decided to look for Tywin. I don't think that I had searched for him in order to kill him," he opened his eyes and drank some more, sitting back. "And there he was, on the shitter," he smiled, looking at Dany. "He was a bit frightened. I could see it. And it made me so happy that he was. He said, 'You are no son of mine.' I wanted to laugh. Instead, I put an arrow in his heart and ran…"
Dany pulled her knees up again. She was unsettled, but not how she had imagined herself to be…she thought that what he was saying was sad, yes…but she felt some understanding that she did not expect to find. "And?"
"And I was put into a box and loaded onto a ship. A ridiculous place, really. But most inconspicuous."
She looked out of the window.
"Do you despise me?" he asked softly.
"No," she said without looking at him.
"You should."
"Why?" now she looked.
"Because I killed my father and the woman I loved. And now I drink…and I cannot fathom how you could feel anything for me."
She smirked at him. "Because you killed them, I love you."
His heart was beating very fast…she had said it again. "I don't understand."
"Well, you aren't going to allow life to happen to you. Despite your lot in life, " she cocked a brow. "Despite that, you are a fighter. Had Tywin not have been so arrogant and proud, he might have seen you as you are."
"How am I?"
"Wise and unafraid."
"I am afraid, Your Grace."
"Of?"
He sighed. "Of so much, but most of all, going to Westeros."
Dany's face was impassive. "What have you to fear?"
"My past. My name. My misdeeds catching up with me. I have enemies in Westeros. Some are because my name is Lannister. Others because my name is Tyrion. But there are few whom I could call friends…even fewer allies."
"Are you advising me to keep you here?" she smirked.
"No. But I am warning you that making me your Hand may have seemed a good idea at the time, but it was not without risk."
"Everything is a risk."
"True. But this perhaps, more so than others."
She studied him. "Does no one care for you?"
"Varys. As of now, that's all I'm certain of."
She looked at the floor. "I put that pin on your chest. I have faith in you, and your abilities. And," she added softly. "I care for you."
He felt foolish. "Of course…"
"And?" she looked at him. "Do you care for me?"
His eyes darted downward. How could he not confess to her those things which had been swimming in his thoughts? How could he keep it from her, after the previous night? "I do."
Her face was impassive, and she fidgeted a touch. "Is that the depth of your regard?"
"Pardon?"
"I mean to say…you care for me, but nothing more?"
Tyrion cleared his throat. "Are you asking me if I love you?"
"Yes," she replied, matter of factly.
He swallowed…for he hadn't thought about it until this moment. He hadn't allowed himself. "I…believe I do," he drank deeply. "Dany…you must understand. I'm a dwarf. I am not a handsome man."
"So? What of it."
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? You…being you…having chosen Daario as a lover…"
She sighed, sitting back. "He was a lover. And though I did care for him, it wasn't enough."
"I don't understand."
Dany thought a moment. "I have had strength of men…Drogo was strong. I've had beauty…but though beauty is fine, it is not substantive. Daario, though beautiful, was not what I needed, which was made evident by my reaction to leaving him here," she looked at Tyrion purposefully. "I need something more."
"More?" his eyes narrowed in question.
"More. You are witty. Clever. You are more."
"You'll tire of having to bend every time you kiss me," he smirked, looking away and pouring wine.
"That's for me to decide."
"Pardon me, Your Grace, but it directly effects me. I am the one who will be left. I am the one who will be broken. You will move on, happily, and find yourself a suitable replacement."
"That is what you think of me?" her voice was strong.
"That is what I know of the world."
Her eyes fell. How could she blame him for that? She was irritated that he had been so wounded, and that now she was paying for it, but she understood. She knew that he had been abused, by his own father, by the sound of it…
And so had she. She had been sold and bought. She had been a puppet for her psychotic brother's machinations…Dany stood, and went to the window. She knew what it meant to suffer, to be afraid. She knew, and she believed that Tyrion had likely suffered just as much, if not more, than she had. She swallowed, looking into the bay. She would need to give orders…she would need to act…she needed to prepare…she had been idle for so long. "Marry me," she said.
Tyrion wasn't looking at her, he had been wondering if he should get up and leave. There was much to do. They were leaving in less than a day's time. She had said something…he hadn't heard. So he turned toward her. "I'm sorry…what did you say?"
She turned and looked at him. "I said, marry me."
He stared at her. "You're joking," he stood.
"I'm not."
"Daenerys, as your Hand, I must advise…"
"In this case, Tyrion, I don't want your counsel."
"This is madness," he said, waving his hand. "What are you thinking? I told you to go to Westeros without a lover. What good would having a husband do?" his voice was elevated. "And a Lannister husband at that."
"I'm not thinking of strategy. I'm thinking of us. I'm considering my heart," she whispered. "And yours."
"You pity me," he spat.
She shifted. "I mean to prove myself, and what better way than to commit myself to you utterly."
"This is you proving yourself? Wouldn't you say that it's a bit extreme?"
"No more so than riding into Westeros and saving it from itself," she smiled. "I know it sounds rash, but with everything that we've lived through…"
"Dany. We've spent one night together as lovers. That is hardly enough to build a life upon," he said softly.
She knelt before him. "And there are those who don't know their partner at all. I didn't know Drogo. I had met him once before Viserys sold me to him. I grew to love him, yes, but it was time…time and, some fear," she said softly. Dany touched his cheek. "I feel as though I know you better than nearly anyone. We've spent time together…perhaps not as lovers, but time," she let her hand fall. "And I love you. And if you understand me at all, you'll know that that is not something I readily yield to," she looked at him in desperation.
And he felt his heart beating. What would this all mean? "You haven't considered consequences. You are acting on pure emotion, not something I'm accustomed to seeing you do."
"What of it?" she demanded, taking his hand. "I am not stone. I have feelings…and if we ride into Westeros as husband and wife…"
"They will never take you seriously, Daenerys. With the Lannister dwarf on you arm, they will laugh…"
"You forget," she whispered. leaning closer. "I have dragons," and she kissed him softly. "You have not answered me," she said into his mouth.
He took his hand from her and pulled away, going to pour more wine. What was she thinking? How was this to even be considered? She didn't understand Westeros…she would not be able to keep her promise, should they wed. She would despise him, and leave him, and he would break…for yes. He loved her.
Of course he did.
He ran his hand through his hair, his back facing her. "How would it work?" he asked, sipping.
"How would what work?"
"A marriage."
She smiled, thinking he must be joking. "Much the way any marriage works, I expect."
He turned and looked at her. "But your alliances. Your politics. Once Westeros is yours, if it becomes yours with an un-advantageous match, what will happen to me?"
"You will be my husband."
"No no. I mean…politicking in Westeros is complex and dirty. With a Lannister at your side, it makes it even more messy," he drank deeply.
"Then you will become a Targaryen."
"Excuse me?"
"Take my name. Then you will no longer be a Lannister."
He gaped at her. Become a Targaryen…his mind was racing.
But…in some ways…it made sense. He looked at her.
And he smiled. "Are you certain?"
She nodded.
…and her presence, powerful…that was all that was required.
