Game of Thrones: Imagines and one shots. Book four

Want - Part 5 - Sandor x Tyrion x Reader

Days had passed. Days since the odd altercation between Bronn and (Y/n) on the streets of the capital. Days since either Bronn or Tyrion had seen the lady. Days since the little lion had done more than sit in silence, while the sellsword sat across from him.

Since coming into his employ, Tyrion had grown used to how Bronn not only spoke to him, but to everyone else in the Keep; to how curt, abrupt, sarcastic and downright rude the sellsword could be. But not once had the little lion ever thought that Bronn would come out and say what he had said to (Y/n). Not once would he have believed that he would claim that a woman from a good House hated the Street of Silk and the girls that worked in the likes of Baelish's brothel, because she was not good enough to service the nobles; only the smallfolk that could afford a couple of coins for a quick fuck up against a wall or in the cheapest whorehouse in Flea Bottom. That she willingly lifted up her skirts down amongst the smell of shit from the tanneries. The fire in (Y/n)'s eyes as she had taken the insult, fiercer than anything that he had ever seen. Tyrion not blaming her for not wanting to see the sellsword again; for wanting to put some distance between the pair of them. He sure that if one more insult like the last were to leave Bronn's lips in (Y/n)'s presence, then he might just find himself without a tongue. That not necessarily being the worst case; there something quite nice about the notion of Bronn not being able to talk; but.........

"Stop it woman......ya need ta see tha maestre........."

"I said continue.... it's nothing............." The sound of the two familiar voices shouting at one another from outside of the castle, drawing Tyrion toward them. It the first time that he would have seen (Y/n) since she had quickly left he and Bronn in the city; making her way to goodness only knew where. The other voice, the Hound. Though why a man like him would sound so concerned over the lady.......The lion's eyes growing wide as he moved out into the small training area to see (Y/n) and the younger Clegane facing one another, swords drawn; the sleeve of the lady's shirt, covered in blood.

"Put ya sword down. I'm not dealin with tha old lion, the imp or that fuckin sellsword of his cos ya got injured........" Sandor raising his sword and blocking (Y/n)'s strike, as the mention of the sellsword sent her into another flurry of action. Blood dripping onto the sand beneath her feet, as she turned, doing her best to get the big man in front of her, to continue to fight.

She had pushed herself for days, training from dawn to dusk so as not to have to think more on what Bronn had said. Every opponent once again being that rotten sellsword; yet this time, instead of just wanting to wipe the smirk off the man's face, she wanted to see him laying in the dirt in his own blood. It now to the point that Sandor was the only one that would agree to spar with her. The only one that didn't fear for his life when her sword was drawn.

"I do not answer to any of them, they do not control me, especially not that bastard, Bronn. Now, fight me............." Sandor shaking his head, as (Y/n) shouted at him; this not the first time that they had fought one another. This not the first time that she had come to find him because no one else would face her. The big man having to admit that the ward of the Hand, might possibly be the only one that called the keep home, whom he had any time for. But this was the first time that he had seen her in such a way; that she had allowed her anger to get the better of her and left herself open to be injured. Sandor sure that despite what she said, the cut that had come from the tip of his sword slicing through her skin, was far worse than she would admit.

"Keep still will ya............." The big man growled, as he grabbed hold of (Y/n), and pulled her back to his chest. The lady doing her best to not cry out, as he twisted the sword from her hand. The blade falling to the floor with a soft thud. New bloody trickling down from the wound in her arm.

"Didn't say they controlled ya; I know ya better than that. I'm just not gonna lose my head cos ya got hurt. And that cocky fuckin cunt of a........."

"Don't mention him.....don't even say his name........" Sandor's grip on her tightening, as she began to squirm again.

"Damn it, keep fuckin still.........."

"(Y/n)............" The new voice causing the lady to slump back into Sandor's chest as they both saw Tyrion making his way towards them.

"I never believed I would ever say this; but the Hound is correct. Perhaps we should take you to see a maestre......" Tyrion holding out his hand for her to take. (Y/n) knowing that given her old friend agreed with Sandor, the chances of her doing anything but being dragged to see a maestre, were non-existent. A frustrated sigh leaving her lips as Tyrion smiled at her. She knowing that what had happened, was not the little lion's fault; that she should not take her anger out on her dearest friend. The nod of her head, causing Sandor to finally let her go.

"Fine......but I am not going to see that old pervert Pycelle. I would rather my arm drop off than have to deal with that dirty old cunt........"

"Of course, not.......I wouldn't even suggest it.........."Tyrion replied. He discreetly nodding to Sandor as (Y/n) slipped her hand intohis. The younger Clegane simply shaking his head again as the little lion ledher back into the keep. He sure that he would have to go and locate a certainsellsword and find out what he had done or said to upset one of the only peoplehe had ever met, that treated him as a human being.