Frost // Tyrion Lannister // Sandor Clegane

Wooden Cock

It was a sad sight to see as Joffrey walked sansa down the aisle and then promptly stole the stool to which Tyrion was going to use to cloak Sansa with his protection the guest were snickering but Tywin shot them a warning glare.

'I don't like this.' Alina whispered from tywins side. She was still very man at Tyrion but neither of them deserve this. Sansa never did anything, alinas stomach was in knots at what she had declared. She did this to sansa. Alina hated herself in that moment.

'Hush child,' he told her pulling her closer to him.

After a long awkward moment of standing and waiting to be cloaked sansa kneeled. Catalina couldn't help but feel the pain of hatred not towards Sansa not towards Tyrion, but for herself. Perhaps if she had never left the rock perhaps if she had never wanted more, than none of this would've happened.

'You seem rather drunk.' Tywin said as he approached Tyrion, the feast was in full swing Sansa looked miserable so Catalina tried to comfort her.

'Isn't it a grooms duty, a man's duty to be drunk at his own wedding?' Tyrion questioned over his glass.

'This isn't about your wedding. Renley Baratheon had a wedding, your wife needs a child, a Lannister child.' Tywin told him. Tyrion sat slumped in his chair bored and not nearly drunk enough to have this conversation. 'As soon as possible.' Tywin added.

'And?'

'If you're going to give her one you need to perform.' Tywin reminded him.

'What did you once call me? A drunken little lust filled beast?' Tyrion reminded him

'More than once.' Tywin agreed.

'There you have it I am the god of tits and wine I shall build a shrine to myself.'

'You can joke,' Tywin said pulling the glass from his lips 'you can engage in juvenile attempts to make your father uncomfortable but you will do your duty.' Tywin said walking away.

'Time for the bedding ceremony!' Joffrey declared

'I don't think that's necessary.' Catalina said a Sansa shivered in her arms

'There will be if I command it.' Joffrey said happily. Tyrion stabbed his knife down into the table.

'then you'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock.' Tyrion threatened. Tywin stood up, clearing his throat, the room went silent.

'What did you say to me?' Joffrey questioned 'What. Did. You. Say!'

'I believe we can dispense with the bedding your Grace I'm sure tyrion did not mean to threaten the king.' Tywin suggested calmly glancing over at Tyrion and Tyrion started to laugh.

'A bad joke your grace.' Tyrion said laughing releasing his hand that was clutched very tightly to his knife 'a small man's envy of your own royal manhood.. mine is so small my poor wife won't even know I'm there.' Tyrion added, the tension slowly faded from the room.

'Your uncle is clearly quite drunk your grace.' Tywin told him

'I am.' Tyrion agreed. 'guilty.' He looked to sansa. 'come wife. I will tell you about the time I threw up on someone while fucking. It's a great story actually.' Sansa begrudgingly left Alina's side. Alina took a step forward but Tywin gently grabbed her arm.

'No my dear. It is done.' Tywin told her softly.