Game of Thrones Imagines Book Two

Se sȳndor morgho - Part 5 - Tyrion x Reader

I know that I should have said this in the first chapter. That I should have stated that yes, in the show, Tyrion's Valyrian is terrible. But as I always view my stories as my GoT universe, and given that, anything is possible. So, I do change a lot of things. Therefore, I hope that you will all forgive me for making my favourite little lord able to speak the language more or less fluently, not that there will be much more of the Valyrian as this story continues. I still hope that you all enjoy this new chapter.

"Tell me about yourself? Where do you come from? How did you get so good at fighting? Tell me about the scars. Especially the new ones." Tyrion asked. As he took a seat next to (Y/n) on the bench. The warrior going to move to sit on the floor, only to find herself pulled back to the seat by the little lord. The little man finding himself increasingly amused by the warriors shocked looks. The beautiful woman not sure how to act around someone that was treating her in such a kind manner.

"There........there is nothing to tell........Tyrion. I am what you see. I cannot remember a time before the pits. I don't recall parents, or a home. I am not even sure what I am. Where my ancestor hail from. And as far as fighting is concerned, I had two choices, get good, or die. And I have found that I am far too stubborn to want to die. In the beginning, I was nothing more than a child that they would use to help the cooks, and the people that clean up the pits after a fight. I would sleep in the gutters with the dogs to stay warm. To stop the rats from biting at my toes. Then one day, one of the large boys killed one of the dogs. The one that was my favourite. And he killed him for no reason. So.........I killed him for no reason, with my bare hands, and cared as little about his death, as he had done for the dogs. I hadn't known it at the time, but the trainers had been watching. They watched how easily and matter of factly I killed the boy. How a shadow of death seemed to follow after me, as I left the lifeless form, and made my way back over to the dog. Sitting down next to it and stroking him until someone came along, to drag its body away and throw it out onto the street. The next thing I knew, I was dragged to the training area. A sword forced into my hand, as I was pushed out to face three large boys. From that moment, I knew that I had to fight. That I had to get strong. That I had to be better and quicker than all the others so that I didn't get hurt. So that I was not the next dead body in the pit. And that was what I did. I took my fair share of beatings in the beginning. But I would learn. I would learn to counter techniques. To bring those same techniques into my own arsenal. And when I began to beat everyone that the trainers would send after me, it was then that they put me into the pits. The slavers promising to sell me when the time was right. When they believed that they would get just the right amount of gold for me. And today was finally that day. Though I still cannot believe that you would pay ten thousand gold dragons." (Y/n) explained. Her head dropping, as she remembered all the long dark years. All the pain. All the bruises. All the blood.

"And the scars...............?" Tyrion asked. Finding himself growing to like the fighter more and more. Beginning to see that she had begun as an underdog just like him. An underdog that had fought tooth and nail to become the leader of the pack. And that he had definitely made the right choice in buying her.

"Most of the scars are old. When I was younger, I used to cause the trainers lots or problems. They say that I am too smart. That my tongue is too sharp. I used to argue with them. Make them look small in front of the other slaves. And they hoped that by beating and whipping me, they would silence me. That the pain would make me see that it was more prudent to hold my tongue. But...........in the end, it wasn't what they did to me, that made me go about things in a different way. It was what they did to others. One day, I struck one of the slavers. But instead of punishing me, they punished a young boy that would always bring me my food. Then others that they believed I spoke with whenever I would do something they didn't like. So, I stopped. I stopped making it obvious what I was doing. I made fools of them in subtler ways, as I knew that they were too foolish to notice. And the punishments.........the punishments subsided. The new scars......well, they were for a different reason.........."

"And that reason was............?" Tyrion pushed.

"We had a little man here. A man just like you that they called Genes, or Mouse. He was kind and would help fix me up after a fight. He knew about healing herbs and balms that would help my cuts heal quicker. Usually the slavers, the trainers, just ignored him. Occasionally getting a sick thrill out of kicking and teasing him when they were drunk. But one day, one of the important families of Meereen asked to see one of the other fighters. They wanted a fight that was a little something different. Something that no one had ever seen before. So.........."

"Mouse?!" Tyrion interrupted abruptly. The fighter's nod in agreement only serving to make the little man's blood boil.

"They dragged him into the pit, thrust a sword into his hand, and left him in there to deal with a monster. A mouse against a giant with no idea how to protect himself. Genes did all he could. He fought to the end. But he didn't stand a chance. And I was forced to watch. They wanted to show me, that it was they that were in charge. That they could do exactly as they wished. That they could take my friend away from me. But I had the last laugh, because when the fighter had killed my little Mouse. As soon as he stepped back behind the gates. I killed him. Just like I had killed that first boy all those years before. I killed him with my bare hands and did it happily. And I would do it again. Because no one hurts those that I care for. But the slavers didn't like it, so, they whipped me." (Y/n) continued. Desperately holding back the tears that she had already been holding back for so long. The images of that terrible day playing over and over in her mind.

Suddenly, Tyrion jumped down from the bench. The young lion making his way over to the door of the room. Calling out angrily for the slaver to return. Turning back to (Y/n) before he left the room.

"Get together whatever belonging you have, (Y/n). I am going to pay the slavers for you and take you away from here. I am going to take you far away from here. And you will never have to see or think about this vile place ever again." Tyrion said, his tone to her much softer than the one that he had used to the slaver. (Y/n) nodding in agreement, as the little man disappeared out into the darkness of the corridor.