Game of Thrones: The Storm

S2E3 - What Is Dead May Never Die

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The next morning, like always, when you awoke from a night with Sandor, he was nowhere to be found. You always wondered how a such a big man was able to slip out of your grasp without waking you when he did. Especially since you always draped your arm across his body when you slept. 

"Sleep well, my lady?" Tyrion asked from your desk chair as he drank one of the glasses of wine Sandor poured the night before. You jumped a bit at the new voice that rang out through your chamber before realizing who it was. 

You groaned in annoyance as you pulled your bed covered over your shoulders more as you laid back down. 

"What do you want?" You sighed, keeping your back turned to the half-man. The thought of him knowing what took place in this very room only hours prior made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. 

"I just heard the strangest story from Lord Varys. One of his little birds told him that she witnessed the Hound burst through your chamber door and grab ahold of you... in more ways than one." 

You could practically hear the smirk on his face as he spoke. 

"I also seen Clegane leaving the corridor on my way here. I'm going to be honest; I thought you didn't like men based on the few encounters I've seen you handle them," Tyrion quipped, watching as you stayed completely still in your bed. "I will say I do think you and Lord Stark's bastard got along great; he was just as pretty as you were too." 

"Why are you here?" 

"Ah, right. Marriage," Tyrion said simply, tracing the rim of the glass of wine with his finger. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at his simple statement as your head tipped in his direction, as if to tell him to elaborate further. 

"As you know, Lord Varys has been getting word that Lord Stannis is assembling an army and a fleet of ships to attack King's Landing." 

"What does that have to do with marriage?" You asked in an irritated tone. 

"I'm trying to think of a way to get Myrcella out of the city to protect her while also trying to secure a marriage pact with a great house," Tyrion explained further. 

"Trystane Martell is her age, send her to Dorne," you groaned, leaning forward in your bed, keeping your covers wrapped around your body. 

"The Martells hate the Baratheons. The Lannisters even more so if you haven't forgotten," Tyrion drank the rest of the wine in his glass as you rolled your eyes. 

"Myrcella is an innocent child, they wouldn't hurt her. Things are different in Dorne," you reassured the half-man. 

"Are there any other options that you can think of?" 

"Robin Arryn, but his mother is a loon and he's a brat. I think Myrcella would be more in danger in the Eyrie than if she were just sent to Dorne," you rasped, rubbing your eyes with one hand as your other hand kept your covers over your body. "I think she would probably thrive more in Dorne. She enjoys the warm climate, and when winter comes, she'll be in one of the warmest parts of Westeros." 

You watched as Tyrion tapped his finger on the glass, staring at the floor while he thought. 

"I'm still confused as to why the Hound," he went back to the first conversation. "Surely you'd have to keep your eyes closed the entire time to imagine someone else." 

"Careful, I'm sure there's a handful of whores who would say the same about you," you warned. 

"Yes, but they are whores, you are a Baratheon now, which makes you a Lady. You can't just go around sleeping with Kings Guard, especially when they're nicknamed the Hound."