Tyrion left Daenerys' royal chambers in Maegor's Holdfast and crossed the dry moat, pausing to look up at the half dozen frozen heads impaled on iron spikes. In winter they hardly stank at all, and the snow rounded over the tops made them much less gruesome than usual. Tyrion remembered his father bringing him here when he was about six years old and insisting they linger on the bridge next to the mounted heads. He had been made to look upon each one as its fate was described in loving detail by his father, along with whatever misdeeds had led to their beheading. In those days Tywin had been the Hand of Daenerys' father, mad king Aerys, and he seemed to relish frightening Tyrion with the more horrific aspects of life in the Red Keep. Tyrion had still been young to have some hope of his father's approval, so he had studied those rotting, stinking heads diligently, as though he would be quizzed about them later. All it had ever gotten him was nightmares.
Tyrion wondered if Jaime and Cersei had also been brought along to the Keep when they were younger to sit at Tywin's knee in the Tower of the Hand. He imagined their father showing off the golden twins, introducing them proudly to the people they would someday rule over; Cersei as queen, Jaime as Lord of Casterly Rock.
Had Tywin mapped out Tyrion's future as well, when he was growing in his mother's womb? Had he planned for his second son to become a knight of the King's Guard, or perhaps even to follow in his own footsteps as the Hand of a king? Or maybe Tywin had been hoping for another beautiful daughter; someone he could show off and then betroth for political gain.
Sometimes Tyrion liked to imagine that his mother would have loved him even though he was born a dwarf. If Joanna Lannister had not died birthing him, his father might not even have hated him. He knew Tywin would never have loved him, but it wouldn't have mattered so much if he'd had a mother who did.
Jaime always loved me, Tyrion thought, but does he still? They had spoken little since Jaime had been brought back to the Red Keep for his trial. Never had they discussed the night Tyrion killed their father. Though Tyrion had little remorse for murdering Tywin, he did regret his lie to Jaime about having killed Joffrey; of course, that was before he had become a kinslayer in truth.
Tyrion also didn't rue telling Jaime that Cersei had been fucking their cousin Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack. He knew his words had hurt Jaime, but anything that would help his brother to see Cersei for what she was could only be good. How long had it taken Jaime to believe Cersei had betrayed him and move ahead with his life? Tyrion had gone on with his own life; even the memories of Tysha haunted him less now. Like so much sludge flowing into Blackwater Bay, Tyrion's past grievances had become diluted by the moving currents of the present.
He pulled his cloak about him and left the holdfast to the lower bailey and the serpentine steps. Tyrion needed to talk to Jaime this morning, but he wasn't sure where to find him. He assumed he was somewhere with Brienne. Knowing Jaime, he had probably found a way to spend the night with Brienne in the Maidenvault rather than stay in his uncomfortable room in Traitor's Walk. Tyrion chuckled to think of Jaime and Brienne sneaking around to spend the night together. After so many years of having to sneak around to be with Cersei maybe Jaime was just in the habit of needing to hide his affections.
Coming upon Brienne and Jaime kissing in front of the Queen's Ballroom last night had been a fair treat. Tyrion had hardly been kidding when he suggested they get a room; the two of them looked about ready to take each other right there in the corridor. Cersei's face – oh, gods! Tyrion laughed out loud at the memory as he labored down the serpentine steps. He really didn't hate Cersei, much as he sometimes wanted to. That didn't mean seeing her react to Jaime being soundly kissed by another woman wasn't the highlight of his day; it was even better than managing to switch out Cersei's shampoo with bear grease.
Tyrion was grinning as he stepped out into the middle bailey. He was buffeted by the storm, one of the worst seen this far south. He pulled his hood closer to his face to protect himself from the sleet. The hailstones seemed big as peach pits and just as hard.
The Maidenvault was closer to him than Traitor's Walk, so he decided to look for Jaime there first. Ducking inside the 'Vault, Tyrion first looked around for Jaime's Dothraki guards. He was not surprised not to see them; they had been sent word earlier in the morning that they would no longer need to guard Jaime. Even if they hadn't heard, if Jaime were here with Brienne they would hardly give his location away by hanging about.
Tyrion greeted the woman seated by the door. She was even older than the crone who had been there yesterday when he had come to see Cersei. Elderly women stationed at the doors to the Maidenvault performed a purely ornamental position; it gave women like Helyn who could no longer perform maidservant or septa duties something to do. No one cared who came and went in the Maidenvault except on the rare occasions when it actually held maidens that needed their virtue protected. Tyrion could have told Jaime this, but it was much more fun waiting to see if he would try to sneak in to be with Brienne.
Tyrion didn't know which hallway contained Brienne's chambers, so he chose the one he knew Cersei's room was in. He quickly found he'd made the correct choice when a door opened down the hall and Brienne come out wearing her armor.
Strangely, she already had her helm on this morning. Tyrion understood why Cersei wore her helmet back to her room after practice, especially after he saw her rabid raccoon impersonation, but why would Brienne want to wear hers leaving the Vault?
Brienne startled a little to see Tyrion waiting at the end of the hall and reluctantly strode toward him.
"Well met, Jaime." Tyrion said smugly.
"Fuck. How did you know it was me?" Jaime said, stopping in front of him. "You could see that I'm not as tall as Brienne?"
"Brother, to someone of my stature there are only a few ways I see height: 'taller than me,' 'fucking tall,' and 'really fucking tall.' You and Brienne are both really fucking tall. However, Brienne doesn't walk like she's got a reasonably large cock swinging between her legs. You do."
Jaime laughed, "Can't say that occurred to me," he admitted.
"I never understood," Tyrion said blandly, "why it is that you swagger like you've got such an enormous cock when I am the brother most blessed in that area. But alas, mine just causes me to waddle so that I don't trip over it. It hardly seems fair."
"I never thought to see the day you would whine about what the gods endowed you with between your legs. Didn't you tell me once that they made you short to compensate for that gift?"
"True; I shouldn't complain." Tyrion said, smiling impishly up at his brother. "But do tell me: why are you wearing your lady love's armor?"
Jaime removed the helm and smirked down at Tyrion, "I was hoping to get out of here undetected by the crone at the door. I'm not supposed to be in here, you know."
"Actually, no one has ever said you couldn't be in the Maidenvault, Jaime. You just assumed that yourself."
Jaime narrowed his eyes at Tyrion, "You couldn't have told me this earlier?"
"You never asked. Also, I wouldn't have wanted to miss seeing you sneaking around in Lady Brienne's armor. How was she planning to sneak out later? The woman at the door is old, but she might remember if the same woman left twice without actually coming back in."
"We were saved from trying to figure that out. It seems the usual crone at the door has developed a taste for Dothraki loving. Apparently they are not called Horse Lords for their influence over their mounts. Well, not their equine mounts, anyway." Jaime said, "Looks like you have competition for outsized dangly bits, brother."
"'Dangly bits, Jaime? Really?" Tyrion laughed. "Think what you will, but I have it on good authority that under scrutiny mine holds up quite well compared to the Dothrakis."
Jaime laughed with Tyrion. "Did you come looking for me here, little brother? If so, I'm pretty sure it wasn't to discuss cocks. I think you would do better to track Loras down for that particular discussion."
"Ah, Loras," Tyrion chuckled, "he does seem to have some expertise, or at least a lot of opinions, on the topic. I was indeed looking for you. Were you heading anywhere in particular? I'd like to talk to you for a while."
"I was going back to Traitor's Walk to take off Brienne's armor for her to pick up later," Jaime told him, "but if you wait a couple of minutes I'll go back to her room and take it off ."
"Sure. Why don't I come along with you? I'm sure the lady would be happy to see me." Tyrion suggested.
"Funny. Brienne wouldn't thank me for bringing you in with me."
"Ah, so she's not dressed to receive visitors? I'll just wait out here then," Tyrion said, "and hope Cersei doesn't come out in the meantime."
Jaime returned to the room and soon came back dressed in breeches, tunic and a jerkin. Tyrion noted that his hair was suspiciously mussed and he had an insufferably smug look on his face.
"Did you tell Brienne what I said?" Tyrion asked.
"About you guessing I wasn't her? Yes. Did I tell her how you guessed? No." Jaime said. "I also told her that you knew we didn't need to sneak into her room. She says you're in big trouble."
"Oh? The lady does like to threaten, doesn't she?"
"You go ahead and take her lightly, Tyrion. I'm sure she would never do anything bad to you."
"I like her," Tyrion told Jaime, "don't tell her that, of course. Now let's go before Cersei shows up."
"Gods, yes. She caught me out here last night in Brienne's cloak, but she believed I was Brienne. It was… enlightening."
"Do tell," Tyrion said, leading them back up the hall.
"She threatened me, er, I mean Brienne; she was drunk but she also sounded more than a little crazy. I don't think she could actually hurt Brienne, do you?"
"Jaime," Tyrion said, catching his sleeve to make him stop walking, "I can't stress this enough, big brother, you need to be very careful about Cersei; she uses different weapons than Brienne does. She is not above trying to kill Brienne somehow."
"Kill her?" Jaime said, "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"
"Is it?" Tyrion said calmly, "I would be dead several times over if she had her way. And I didn't steal her white knight from her."
Jaime clenched his jaw and nodded, "I haven't been her anything in a long time. I'll be careful. Let's talk about this more away from her chambers."
"I agree. I'm famished, so let's go get something to eat," Tyrion said and started walking again.
They opened the doors and saw that Helyn was back at her post. She barely batted an eye at seeing the two men. She just hummed a little and seemed to be playing with a small silver bell that looked a lot like the kind Dothraki men wore in their hair. Tyrion decided not to mention that an edge of her skirt was tucked into her smallclothes.
The brothers left the Maidenvault and leaned into the wind blowing across the yard. They entered the building and shook the snow off of themselves before entering the nearly empty dining hall. The candles in Rufus' eyes still glowed, and the taxidermied sheep and lizard-dragon were nestled companionably next to each other at the end of their tracks near the ceiling. Several men were over in the far corner exclaiming over the installation of what looked like a very large ceramic dragon egg.
Tyrion led Jaime to a table close to the kitchen. A servant immediately came over to see what Tyrion would like to have prepared. "Crispy bacon, almost black, eggs with some of that fresh goat cheese mixed in, and brown ale," he said.
The man trotted back into the kitchen yelling out their order, "It's for the Hand, you lackwits! Make it quick! No, the fresh goat cheese! How old is that? No, just put it in with the pig lips and lungs for tonight. No, you can leave the green parts on… "
"I'm not really the Hand, you know," Tyrion told Jaime, "but no one seems to know what to call me these days."
"Is her Grace planning to name you Hand at some point?" Jaime asked.
"She would have liked to, but she wants me in command of the troops along with Ser Barristan. I'm pretty sure one has a chance of living longer fighting the Others than one would after being named Hand," Tyrion said, reaching for the tankard of ale a servant had just set at his elbow. "Varys has been simpering about, trying to get the position, but none of us trust him as far as we could spit a rat."
"That's wise," Jaime said, "he's wormed his way into every sitting council for years. Does he have any official position now?"
"Dany lets him tell her what news his little birds come across, but she seems only to be waiting for him to take a misstep. She has him watched at all times, and he knows it."
"And did you advise her not to trust Varys?" Jaime said.
"I told her not to trust anyone," Tyrion said with a wry grin.
"Except you." Jaime noted, smiling back.
"Except me. Of course."
"Someday you'll tell me how you earned her trust. Also, about everything that happened after I freed you from the dungeons." Jaime said, taking a sip of his ale.
"Someday. I promise I will, Jaime." The servant came and set down their food. Tyrion nodded approvingly, "Being in good with the queen does have its advantages," he said, picking up a piece of bacon just a shade lighter than charcoal and tearing a piece off with his teeth.
Both men ate in silence for a several minutes, each uncertain how to address what needed to be said. Tyrion washed down a large bite of egg with ale and wiped the foam from his lips with the back of his hand.
"I want to talk about that night, Jaime," he said finally, and waited until Jaime met his eyes. The look on his big brother's face wasn't especially friendly and he could see that Jaime wasn't going to make it easy for him. "I had thought I would start by apologizing for killing our father, but I'm still not sorry that I did. I am sorry if it caused you pain."
Jaime nodded, his eyes never leaving Tyrion's. He'd waited a long time for his account of that night.
"Since I was the one who freed you and gave you what seemed reason enough to kill him, I have felt almost like a kinslayer myself," Jaime said, his green eyes burning with the memory.
"I am sorry if you felt that way. I behaved… ungratefully… to you for saving my life. You should know that finding out the truth about Tysha was only one of my reasons for killing our father," Tyrion said, "I wanted him dead; but I'm not sure I would have found the courage to do it without your confession about my wife's true origins."
Jaime nodded, his jaw clenched. Tyrion continued, "But I am sorry that I told you I killed your son. I'm not sorry he's dead, either. The little shit deserved to die thrice over."
"He wasn't really my son," Jaime said, "I mean, he didn't feel like my son; just a squirt of baby batter that took root in Cersei's womb. I learned long ago that you weren't his killer. But Tywin, he was my father, too, and though there was little to love about him I still felt his loss. I think Cersei felt it more, though. Did you know I stood vigil over him in the Sept of Baelor the entire sennight he was there, lying in state? I have never smelled anything as foul as his rotting corpse in my entire life, not even my own hand rotting on a rope. There were times I wanted to shove a lit candle up my nose to cauterize it so I could never smell anything again."
"I had not heard about the smell," Tyrion said, "did they not prepare him properly?"
"The septas swore they did. I think someone must have tampered with his corpse. I've wondered about that for a long time. Maybe someone stuck a dead animal where his organs used to be and stitched him up again."
"Or maybe he was just as big a stinker in death as he was in life." Tyrion said, mock seriously, "The gods know he didn't smell real pretty when I shot him in the privy. He did not, in fact, shit gold."
Jaime couldn't help laughing at Tyrion's expression. "Dear old dad," he sighed, "Do you know, he smiled more in death than he ever did in life? As he shriveled there in the Sept I could swear his grin grew wider every day. It was as though he was pleased with the stink he was making."
"He probably was." Tyrion said, "I always thought he looked like he was holding a small turd in his mouth that he was trying to keep from dissolving. I don't think the man ever smiled kindly at me."
"I know," Jaime said simply, "he was nearly as cold as a White Walker. They don't smile either." Jaime laid his left hand on Tyrion's arm, "I am sorry about Tysha, Tyrion. I never wanted to hurt you."
"I know, Jaime. I've had a long time to think about it. I've also managed to grow up a little and I've had a real lover or two that didn't want me just for my coin."
"Or your monstrously large cock?" Jaime said with a raised brow.
"I can't swear to that," Tyrion said, "but still..."
"I'm glad to hear it," Jaime said, withdrawing his hand so he could lift his tankard for a drink. "Anyone sharing your bed now? Girl? Boy? Barnyard animal?"
"Maybe," Tyrion said, with a pleased smirk, "a girl, but that's a secret I'll keep for the moment. I want to talk to you about the woman sharing your bed." Tyrion could see Jaime struggle to suppress his smile and then give in and let his happiness show, his toothy smile and deep dimples no doubt drawing the eyes of every fertile woman in the room. He could have sworn his brother even blushed. Remarkable, really. "I asked Lady Brienne about her intentions toward you when I saw her last night."
"You what?" Jaime laughed, "She didn't tell me that."
"There she was, wearing your Lannister red cloak, obviously going to meet you and spend the night with you. It seemed the thing to do."
"It is well known that we sleep together," Jaime said evasively.
"Uh huh, I've heard the songs and the rumors, and if seeing the two of you trying to devour each other in front of the ballroom last night wasn't enough, watching your face as she wriggled in your lap last night..."
"Right," Jaime cut him off hastily, "what did you want to say to me about her, Tyrion?"
"Where do I start? I haven't had a chance to watch the two of you much, but I can see that you're in love with the woman."
"I am." Jaime admitted. "I'm not just 'in love,' Tyrion. I love her and have for a very long time now."
"So, when is she going to make an honest man of you, Jaime?"
Jaime choked on the ale he had just taken a drink of, "You rotten little imp" he said through his sputtering laughter "what did she say her intentions were when you asked her?"
"She didn't. She blushed until her freckles looked fit to leap off of her face, but I couldn't goad her into talking about the two of you."
"That's my wench," Jaime grinned.
"So I am asking you, but not just because I want to pry."
"I know you want to pry."
"So true," Tyrion admitted, "but there is a little more to it, Jaime. Daenerys has taken an interest in your relationship with Brienne. I'm afraid that even while she finds it all terribly romantic she also thinks she can use it to her advantage."
The blood drained from Jaime's face as he stared fiercely at Tyrion. "What the hells does that mean? What more does the queen want of me?"
"It's not you she wants something of," Tyrion told him, "It's Brienne. Daenerys has something she wants Brienne to do, and if Brienne refuses Dany is likely to make things difficult for both of you."
Jaime's hand came up and tugged at his hair, "Fuck. Brienne isn't political, you know. Why drag her into this? What does the little Targaryen tart mean to do?"
"Her Grace, you mean." Tyrion told him coldly, "She is your queen, and she did spare your life. Do you have any idea how close she was to sticking your head on a spike?"
Jaime sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Tyrion knew when Jaime was set on being stubborn. He needed to tread lightly here.
"Jaime, I want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy, I really do. I got to know Brienne a little when you were locked up in the dungeon. Of course, at the time she was so sick with worry about you that I could barely pull two words out of her. I wondered how such a perfectly dour creature could be the woman they said had won your heart. But honestly, Jaime, seeing the way that woman smiles, the light in her eyes since you were released, is most enlightening. She's like a different girl altogether. But then, seeing you with her is just as revealing," Tyrion said.
"Oh? Do tell." Jaime said. Tyrion could tell he was pleased but trying not to let it show.
"Well," Tyrion said, "for one thing, I've seen you in love before and this time you look far less furtive -"
"If you're going to be a turd… "
"I know, I know, go lie in the yard. You and Cersei need to get a new line," Tyrion said dismissively, "I was just kidding; I shouldn't make those comparisons. What I wanted to say is that over the years I've seen you carry a lot of weight on your shoulders, exacerbated by that rather large chip that you've been carrying since you slew Aerys Targaryen – and thank you for saving everyone from certain death, by the way – but even though I know life is no easier now, you carry yourself more lightly. You're still my snarky big brother, but seeing you with Brienne, there's a contentment about you I've never seen before." Jaime just nodded, accepting what Tyrion said.
"I swore to Dany I wouldn't tell you what she wants of Brienne yet. But if Brienne agrees to it, Daenerys is prepared to let you two stay together for a while, at least until she needs Brienne for something else later on. She might even grant you a small command, though that is yet to be seen. I've already convinced her that you no longer need to be guarded. But if the two of you thwart her, she will put you in separate units or even hold Brienne back and send her with the next wave of fighters."
"She has no say over what Brienne does in battle," Jaime said through his teeth, "she is a volunteer. Brienne has not sworn fealty to anyone."
"I know you're not that naïve, Jaime. If her Grace wants to separate you, she will. She could even send Brienne back to Tarth."
"Not if I marry her, she can't!" Jaime protested.
"She is the queen, Jaime! You know better than most that kings and queens do whatever they want." Tyrion said, and then grinned at his brother, "Are you planning to marry her?"
"If she'll have me. I don't have a lot to offer, with no lands and being so much older than her. And this," he said, raising his stump, "there are younger, un-maimed knights with more to offer the Lady of Tarth," Jaime said quietly, "but, yes, I had hoped to ask her soon."
"False modesty doesn't become you, Jaime; you cannot think she cares about land. As for your maiming, did she fall in love with you while you still had both hands?"
"I was actually quite an ass to her when we first met. I was her captive, as you know."
"So you're saying the two of you bonded over bondage? I never knew you were the type."
"Mind out of the moat for a change, Tyrion." Jaime chuckled, "I don't know when she started to even tolerate me. I wasn't an especially lovable person, and she knew about Cersei, and our bastards. Not exactly a recommendation, you know."
"You'd think not," Tyrion grimaced. "But you are planning to ask her, and that is happy news," he said, "may I ask why you haven't married her before now?"
Jaime hesitated before speaking haltingly, "Despite the rumors, we have only very recently… that is to say, we… Tyrion, the time just hasn't been right! We've been cheating death night after night for so long, just grateful for each new day we live to see. Being here in the Keep, it's the first time we've really had the chance… to… I've only just started really courting her, Tyr. The feelings have been there a long time, but… "
Tyrion bit his lip, enjoying seeing Jaime's discomfiture. "So, it was okay for her to be the Kingslayer's Whore, but now you want to do things right?" he asked.
"She was never my whore!" Jaime said hotly.
"No, what do you call it then?" Tyrion asked. "Don't tell me that the woman you have loved for so long and slept next to every night is still a maid."
"I don't know." Jaime said quietly.
"You don't know?" Tyrion said incredulously.
"I think she is," Jaime said, reddening, "but we were apart for several months after she left the Red Keep to go after your missing wife. I only know that she prefers not to be called 'the Maid of Tarth' anymore."
"Did you ever think she might have abandoned the title to take a little pressure off of you, Jaime? Maybe she didn't want to make an issue of being a maid once she decided she wanted to be with you. You can't tell me the two of you haven't touched each other. What I saw the other night was not a first kiss, or even a fiftieth,"
"I really don't want to discuss my sex life with my little brother," Jaime said firmly.
Tyrion laughed at Jaime outright, not at all respecting his desire not to talk about it. "When you were fucking Cersei I don't recall you being especially shy about it around me," Tyrion said, "I seem to recall you being unable to stay away from her. That was what led to you pushing the Stark boy out that window and subsequently getting me captured by Catelyn Stark."
"I know what I did," Jaime growled, "it wasn't the first or last stupid thing I did for Cersei, just the most heinous."
"How long did it take you to believe me about Lancel and Kettleblack?" Tyrion asked curiously.
"Thank you for that, by the way," Jaime said drily, "I didn't believe you at first. Lancel? That sniveling little twerp? But he told me himself what he'd done. The rest became obvious soon enough. Understand this, though: what I have with Brienne is not anything like what it was with Cersei."
"So you don't want to fuck Brienne, then?"
"That isn't what I meant. Gods, you're obnoxious."
"So you say. I will admit to being the most obnoxious dwarf in the world if you will tell me how you intend to go about getting betrothed to Brienne. Have you gotten her father's permission yet?"
"No. Do you suppose I should? Of course I should; stupid of me. We've been together so long I forget there is anyone else with a say in it. If she says 'yes' I don't care whether her father approves or not."
"She might care," pointed out Tyrion, "You could try to get a bird to him on Tarth. You might want to send several with this weather."
"I suppose I should. She has also said she won't marry a man who can't best her with a sword. It seems a strange thing given all the times we've saved each other's lives, and how we spar together like we were born to it. Still, I want to give her a good fight. She's romantic that way."
"Sounds like it," Tyrion laughed.
"My Wench," Jaime said proudly, "is one of a kind."
"Were you hoping to marry her before you go back to the Wall?"
"We were fighting a little south of the Wall, but yes, I did hope we might marry before that. I don't know where, though. Not in the Royal Sept, for sure."
"Why not the Royal Sept?" Tyrion asked.
"Um, bad memories of standing vigil over Joffrey," Jaime told him, "and not in the Sept of Baelor, either. I can't even think of that place without the memory of father's stink making me gag."
"You want to marry soon, though. I think even Dany would be inclined to let you two stay together as much and as long as possible, if Brienne does what is asked of her."
"This thing Dany wants, is it dangerous?"
"It is, but not much more dangerous than battling the Others with flame and swords."
"How reassuring."
"It's all I've got," Tyrion apologized, "but at least the queen listens to my council. I will do what I can for you and Brienne. If you do marry her you are going to have watch Cersei even more carefully."
"When she mistook me for Brienne last night she said she was planning to get me back in her bed," Jaime said.
"Now that is scary," Tyrion said, "it might be a good idea to move you and Brienne out of the Maidenvault."
"We slept together in Traitor's Walk once. I'd rather take my chances with Cersei than try that again. We 'really fucking tall' people need a little more space."
"Let me see what I can do for you," Tyrion said.
They had finished eating and Tyrion called for wine. Talk turned to more general topics and eventually Tyrion told Jaime stories of his travels after his escape, and Jaime told Tyrion about the Bloody Mummers, Lady Stoneheart and fighting the Others. As the wine and conversation flowed the brothers found the tension between them melting away. Tyrion hadn't realized just how much he had missed being close to his big brother. When they finally parted Jaime crouched down and kissed his brother on the cheek, just as he had done long ago in the dungeon, the night he'd rescued him. This time, Tyrion hugged him rather than back-handing him. They both felt it was an improvement.
"Are your quarters in the holdfast if I want to find you?" Jaime asked.
"They are, but you'll seldom find me there. I am often advising the queen, so you can send word through a servant to her people if you need me."
"I'll do that." Jaime told him. "When is the queen planning to talk with Brienne?"
"She might have sent for her while we were here," Tyrion said.
"Oh," Jaime said, "I think I'll go find her, then. We had hoped to spar a little today, but it's a little late and I'm a little drunk."
"Perfect time to spar, I should think," Tyrion said with a wink. Jaime laughed, nodding in agreement. They said their goodbyes, Jaime turning to go to the tower in Traitor's Walk to retrieve his clothes and new sword, Tyrion to go sit in on another war council.
Much later that night, Tyrion yawned and got up from the sumptuously upholstered chair in Queen Daenerys' private chambers. The chair itself was a little smaller than one might expect for one of such expensive craftsmanship, but not so short that it appeared to be a child's chair. A sturdy carved step specially made to slide beneath the chair on an unobtrusive hinge was accessed by a small lever just below the armrest. This step made the chair perfect for Tyrion; it was easy to sit upon without crawling up it like a child, and enabled him to leave his seat without having to make an undignified leap to the floor.
The minute Tyrion stepped away, Daenerys' fat tabby, Maumau, leapt up onto the seat, flicking her short tail in annoyance before settling herself into the warm spot where Tyrion's rump had been. She looked up at Tyrion with her gooseberry green eyes, waiting for their ritual: Tyrion blinked slowly at the cat and glanced away, and the cat did the same before settling her head on the soft red cushions of the chair and going to sleep.
Tyrion sighed, knowing he would not be getting his chair back without a great deal of effort, and went to pour cups of lamekh ohazho for himself and the queen. Daenerys was very fond of drinking a little fermented mare's milk before bed. He often drank it with her, even though he found the alcohol content disappointingly low and the sour taste of it less than appealing. Tyrion had begun to refer to it in his mind as "Lam-ick."
It made her Grace happy, though, and keeping her happy was something Tyrion was diligent about.
He carried the cup over to Dany, who was reclining on her bed, a blanket quilted with pockets of ice goose feathers draped over her. She sat up to accept the cup from Tyrion, letting the blanket slip down to expose her breasts. Tyrion noted that her nipples quickly pebbled in the air, but tried not to stare too hard. The double step she kept for him under her enormous bed was already pulled out and Tyrion climbed it to sit on the bed with her. He would have loved to lean over and nuzzle one of those little pink buds. Even in his peripheral vision they were distracting him so much he almost forgot to suppress his gag reflex as he sipped at his Lam-ick.
Dany smiled into her cup, enjoying torturing the dwarf. When she had drained about half of her cup she set it on the side table and leaned back against her pillows. Tyrion watched her with a small smile as she licked the tip of her finger and then ran it over an erect nipple, looking at him all the while. His cock was rigid against his stomach, but he made no move to touch himself or the queen.
This was their game, and they had their rules. Daenerys spread her legs under the covers, and lowered her hand to touch herself. Tyrion could see the outline of her hand as she ever so slowly rubbed her cunt. He knew what the blanket hid, and while he sometimes resented the way she teased him, he realized that the game benefitted him as well. The slow build-up of tension after so many years of instant gratification from whores was a novelty he had come to appreciate.
His cock had become so hard that it practically ached, making him was glad it wasn't constrained by his clothes. While his breeches were cut to fit his short stature, and were normally roomy enough for his cock when it was soft, getting aroused while dressed was especially uncomfortable for him.
Daenerys moaned low in her throat and Tyrion took a deep breath. He could almost taste the anticipation, which had a far better flavor than the mare's milk.
"Tyr," Dany purred, her lilac eyes raking over his naked cock.
It was time; Tyrion pulled the covers off of her legs and she withdrew her hand. Aside from a small strip of fine silver hair she was clean-shaven in the Braavosi style. Tyrion reached out a thick finger and ran it down her hairless slit to her core before dipping two fingers inside of her. She lifted her hips a little as he curled them inside, making her gasp. Daenerys had a sweet voice, and when she was excited it had a girlish, breathless quality to it.
Tyrion moved his fingers inside of her until she was writhing and then lowered his face to the swollen floret she had been rubbing before. His lips latched on to it and he sucked as his fingers continued to thrust and curl inside of her. It took very little time for his queen to cry out and start to thrust herself against his lips and fingers. Tyrion kept right on suckling and finger fucking her slowly until long after she stopped shuddering with her release. Then he rested his palms on either side of her waist, positioned his long, thick cock at her entrance and began to tease her with just the wide head of it. He lowered his mouth to her full breasts and began rolling one of her nipples between his lips and flicking his tongue over it.
Tyrion was waiting again, but this time he was in control. When Dany began to whimper a little he judged he had teased her long enough. He simultaneously thrust his cock hard into her wet heat and bit down on her nipple, the sensation making her arch into him with a loud cry. He released her breast and concentrated on filling her with his cock again and again, holding onto her hips hard to give him the leverage to pull it out several inches before slamming it back in again. He needed to control himself and let his lover peak first, something he had rarely thought to do back when he was only fucking whores. He watched Daenerys' sweet face as she arched her back and bucked against him, then allowed himself to climax with a final deep thrust that made them both cry out.
Afterwards, they lay sprawled on the royal bed, only their fingers touching. Tyrion watched as Daenerys closed her eyes and smiled. He knew few people had been allowed to see this side of the new queen. What had started out as a curious friendship between them many months before had become something far more intimate as Dany had come to trust the dwarf and enjoy his dark humor. Being hung like a Dothraki didn't hurt, of course. Tyrion had come to know the young woman Dany was behind the face she turned to world. Behind the sometimes frivolous fancies she was prone to, there was steel in her will that he respected, and she only sometimes let the fact that Tyrion was her lover as well as her advisor sway her.
With a little sigh she pulled the quilted cover up over them and snuggled up close to Tyrion. It had been a long while since he had slept anywhere but the queen's chambers. Very few people knew that Tyrion was serving the queen in so many ways. Those that did knew enough to keep the secret for them.
Maumau leapt onto the bed and settled on Tyrion's chest. "Mit-row?" she asked, and he laid his hand over her broad, furry back and slept.
