Trust was nothing Tyrion usually offered, but it was different with Rebekah. He remembered the day he was sitting in the library of Shadow Castle while Tywin and Jaime paid a visit to Lord Kenning. Tyrion wasn't interested in politics and pacts at this moments, so he decided to retire somewhere nobody disturbed him. The bibliothek was empty when Tyrion began searching for interesting books. Suddenly, he heard small weepings and steps approaching, and when he turned around, a beautiful red-haired girl looked at him embarrassedly, her eyes filled with tears. „I'm sorry, my lord." She whispered and curtsied quickly. The girl's hair was as red as the older boy's, Roran, so he assumed she was Rebekah. She couldn't be older than 14.

„Don't be, it's your castle, my lady. And I'm no lord." He said, smiling friendly. Tyrion was used to many different reactions at his sight. Fear, laughter, mockery, disgust. He saw none of it in the girl's eyes. They were just big and golden, sad but honest.

She sat next to him on a chair and grabbed a book, pretending to read it. „My lady, is everything alright?" he asked carefully, he could see she was upset.

The girl opened her mouth, wanting to give an answer, then thought otherwise. „No, my lord."

-„You can tell me if you want, my dear. I won't tell anybody else." Somehow, he wanted to help this poor thing.

She swallowed hardly and gazed at Tyrion, her golden eyes thoughtful. Finally, she decided to trust Tyrion Lannister.

Rebekah Waldorf loved her stepfather, and her mind couldn't process the change in his behaviour. Nothing explained why he suddenly touched her face every time he could or why he gave her weird looks.

Apparently the day before, he had gone too far for her. Impulsive as she was, she had just hit him, broke his nose and run away. Thanks to the Lannister visit, Mycah didn't have the time dealing with her, so Rebekah stayed out of his way as much as she could. Tyrion listened to her story, to her high but steady voice. The girl was too ashamed to tell her brothers, she felt guilty, but Tyrion assured her Mycah was the one doing wrong. S
Somehow, the imp felt a connection to the girl, and a plan formed in his head to help her. Because one thing was sure – she had to get out of the Castle before Mycah hurt her any further.

OoOoO

A tourney. The best archer would win Lady Rebekah as bride. It was as easy as it was brilliant. Gregor Clegane was one of the most terrifying fighters in the Seven Kingdoms, but Tyrion doubted he ever practised archery.

The Hand of the King saw the many advantages of Rebekah's plan, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The Mountain was out of concurrence, but they had no control over who might win this tournament. And the Mountain wasn't the only monster out there.

Rebekah's cheerfulness didn't leave anyone cold. She kept smiling, looking radiant although she wore a plain grey dress.

Somehow, Rebekah and Bronn had stopped on their way and sat on one of the benches in the garden. Rebekah explained her plan with excited gestures, and Bronn answered with his usual dry, sarcastic comments.

-„And who do you think is going to win your tourney? You don't want a filthy bastard as husband just because he's the best archer around." He said, observing her features. She blinked at him confusedly.

-„Who could be worse than the Mountain? Who could be more brutal, evil and..." Rebekah searched for words, „huge?" she finished. Bronn shrugged. She certainly had a point.

-„Doesn't a fancy Lady deserve some other fancy Lord?" he asked, still trying to get her feet on the ground again.

-„Maybe. Does it matter?" she muttered. „I learned to lower my expectations. My mother died early, but Septa Olene always told me a proper Lady shall only obey and marry whoever she's told do."
-„Then you already failed." Bronn said, making the girl chuckle.

-„ Still, I know I can't except the greatest of husbands or love or anything like that."

-„That's the way things are, kitten."

Rebekah raised her eyebrows at him. „You should have a bit more compassion. After all, you don't get sold like a horse because it serves your family's politics."

-„Compassion? I don't know the word, my dear. Compassion gets folks like me killed. Thought you'd understood that yesterday evening."

Rebekah grimaced as he mentioned his words to Tyrion. Killing an infant was an atrocity, but Bronn had just shrugged and casually said he would do it with the right payment. She wasn't a girl anymore, she had seen terrible things already, so she couldn't really explain herself why it set her so up.

-„I overreacted yesterday. Nonetheless it's terrible what men would do for money. I won't change my opinion just because it makes me look stupid." Rebekah said defiantly.

Bronn shrugged, a reaction Rebekah had often observed on him. Like nothing really ever bothered him. She wondered if it was his strategy of keeping people away or if he'd already seen so much bad things he wasn't touched by it anymore.

Rebekah sighed, feeling his asking glance at her. Tyrion's sellsword wasn't overly nice or goodhearted, he wasn't highborn or really handsome. Yet she catched herself finding him fascinating. The way she was sitting here with him, talking in a more familiar way than with most nobles, proved she had some kind of trust in him.

-„I'm tired. I can find my way back, thank you for..." she didn't know how to finish, but he understood.

-„I do many things for pretty Ladies."

She laughed, and with that they left the gardens. After all, Rebekah had to rest. She had a tourney to plan.

Thanks to Sparky She-Demon and HermioneandMarcus and to all the new followers.
Next chapter: One word - The Mountain.