A Holiday by Decree
~~ Day 4 ~~
Tyrion had never been much with animals.
Thanks to a noble father who could not stand the sight of his dwarven son doing "men's sports", Tyrion was kept inside as much as possible. Indeed, there had been nothing like falconry lessons or keeping hunting hounds for young Tyrion. Only Jaime ever showed him anything related to sport, like how to swim or hold a bow. (Clearly, Tywin never could have predicted where that would lead, or he would have prevented it.) Horseback riding though had unfortunately become unavoidable when Tyrion became a teen, and Tywin inexplicably became too embarrassed to let him ride by litter or carriage.
The result was not so much learning to ride, but instead, Tyrion spent hours practicing to mount a horse without the aid of a stool; expected to step his left foot into the hands of a tall groom, who would boost him up until his right foot (occasionally) caught the stirrup, this often landed him flopped over the saddle like a sack of potatoes.
Surprisingly, Tyrion never fell off the horse doing this ridiculous maneuver, which he did somehow master. Yet, once he had nearly had his ass bitten by a horse while trying to scramble onto its back, an experience he had never quite gotten over, and which horses thereafter seemed to sense in him.
In the end, that all this should have all amounted to his best noted creature-based relationship being with the royal dragons suddenly came to Tyrion as a scary though oddly encouraging thought.
"I don't see why not," he stated simply, allowing Sansa's bright expression to draw a light smile from him, as he stepped forward.
A bit of coaxing and whispered affirmations from the grounds keeper to his pet later, the pigeon had marched its way off of Sansa's outstretched fingers onto Tyrion's.
In quiet fascination, Tyrion watched the bird, craning its small head around to inspect him with its dark, beady eyes. It warbled, and the two of them looked at each other expectantly.
"It likes the spot at the back of its head petted," Sansa offered, likely sensing he had no idea what he was doing.
Carefully, he put his left hand out to the bird.
If it's going to bite me, it will surely do it now, he thought to himself. Still, having already come so far, he continued anyway.
Sansa had been right: the feathers were soft, like fluffy down under his fingertips passing over the creature's head.
"It is nice," he said softly with a glance Sansa's way, when the bird moved in his palm. "Oh?" he said slightly nervously, before realizing that it had chosen to face away in his palm, plopping down to give better access for more pets to the back of its head.
Happily, the grounds keeper pointed out the relaxed look of the bird's feathers and pose where it now rested with Tyrion.
"I think it means she likes you," still smiling beautifully, Sansa told Tyrion.