Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book four

Want - Part 3 - Tyrion x Bronn x Reader

"I would love to join you......" Tyrion said cheerily. More than happy to join (Y/n) for a trip into the city.

"Bronn........."

"Tyrion, I don't think we need your drinking partner for a trip into the city. I am sure that he can find something else to do while we are away......Perhaps there is a maid or other female servant whose skirts he hasn't found his way up yet. And if you are worried about your safety, you know there is no need to be when you are with me. There is nothing that Bronn can do with a sword, that I can't......."

"No.....I'll go........." Bronn interrupted, as he got to his feet. A smile coming to his lips, as he saw the lady roll her eyes.

Normally, Bronn would have been fine with not following after the two nobles; and he was sure that there really were other things he could find to do. A kitchen maid by the name of Lannia, in particular, springing to mind. But just the notion that (Y/n) didn't want him there, made the thought of going, much more appealing. And if it irked her, then all the better.

"I think you will find you'll be disappointed; I am not planning on going to the Street of Silk. But if Tyrion insists that you must come, at least just stay far enough away from me, so that I don't have to be associated with you....." (Y/n) told the smiling man, before quickly making her way out of Tyrion's rooms. The little lord shaking his head as the sellsword followed after her with all speed; the youngest son of old Tywin having a feeling that this was going to be a very interesting trip.

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Tyrion and Bronn looked at one another, as yet another person called out (Y/n)'s name, while they made their way through the city. They had barely set foot out of the keep and already numerous people had either called out to her and waved, or actually come up to greet her, eyeing the two men, before shaking her hand.

"Popular, aren't ya........." The lady ignoring the sellsword's remark, as she caught the apple that had been thrown towards her; (Y/n) pushing it into her pocket, before calling out her greetings and thanks to the merchant.

"If it is any of your business.....which it isn't, I spend a lot of time here in the city. Most of the people that reside within the walls, are good people, doing their best to eke out whatever kind of living they can to survive. Many have never seen someone that calls the great keep, home; the nobles are like mythical beasts that they have heard of but doubt really exist. And if they do think they exists, then they know that they do not give a fig for them. That whatever happens on these streets, as long as it does not affect the ability of the lords and ladies, kings and queens to enjoy their lemon cakes, or their arbor wine, then countless could die, and it would go unnoticed. I just like them to know that there is one person that does care, that would notice. One person that has a noble name that does not believe that they are better than these people. That if it were not for a quirk of fate; a decision of the Seven, then it could be me that had to live in the likes of Flea Bottom......" The lady explained, as she continued along the street. Bronn and Tyrion looking at one another as she suddenly stopped, taking the apple and a coin from her pocket and giving them both to a little girl that had been stood at the corner in tattered clothes. The child smiling and nodding at something (Y/n) had said, before scurrying off.

None of this really surprised Tyrion; he could recall times when they were younger, that (Y/n) would disappear; times when his father had had to send bannermen out to find the young lady. The soldiers informing the less than happy Hand of the King, when they had brought her home, that she had been found in one of the squares, listening to the stories that the smallfolk would tell. That she had been on the Street of Flour, taking in the scent of the freshly baking bread; or the Street of Steel, eagerly watching the smiths at work. Or worst of all, when they had found her in a winesink in the heart of Flea Bottom, singing along with the rather dubious patrons. He having to think that her betrothal to his brother was not just so that the wealth of her House could be brought to the Lannisters; but that it would perhaps calm (Y/n). That it would make her accept her duties as a lady. Yet it had never worked, (Y/n)'s spirit too strong to be tamed, even by the likes of his father. Tyrion suddenly hearing a noise, he looking up to see Bronn glaring at something; his teeth appearing to be grinding against one another, as his hand gripped at the hilt of his sword. The youngest lion turning to see that his old friend was now talking to someone else, a rather handsome, tall, dark-haired male; the man and (Y/n) smiling at one another as they spoke. It clear from their interaction, that they knew one another well. Tyrion taking hold of Bronn's arm and stopping him, as the man reached out and carefully, affectionately, pushed some of the lady's hair back behind her ear. The lion not deaf to the growl that left the sellsword, as they both saw (Y/n) blush at the gesture. The man moving closer, not seeming to notice, or care that there were others stood there. Bronn, before Tyrion could stop him again, pulling himself away from the lord's side and quickly making his way over to (Y/n). The sellsword taking her arm and dragging her away; leaving Tyrion to give the man an apologetic look, before following after the pair.