BLEEDING LOVE ⚜️ ROBB STARK

Chapter Twelve • The Mother's Mercy

Tyrion needed to stop getting drunk all the time when he found himself waking up in a dog pen on what was their last day in Winterfell. Worse of all was that Prince Joffrey, his mutt Clegane, and the dornish Vorian Dayne were all laughing at the imp who woke up feeling the regret of drinking as much as he did.

"Better-looking bitches than you're used you're used to, Uncle," Joffrey snidely commented. Tyrion however, was not in the mood at this early in the morning to already begin his bickering with Joffrey. He would be rid of him for some time as he planned to instead ride for the wall before returning to King's Landing. But it was hard when every word he spoke was absolutely irritating. Why did he have to lose his favorite of Cersei's brood? "My mother's been looking for you. We ride for King's Landing today," he informed him.

Tyrion ignored his words, he envied Lyla. For whatever the North lacked or how hard it was for such a fragile girl, she would be miles far from her poisonous mother and vile younger brother. Of course he could be rid of them too if he had inherited Casterly Rock. But his father still had foolish hope Jaime would leave the Kingsguard and take his place as Lord of the Rock. He would sooner give the seat to Kevan Lannister and his sons before he would let Tyrion be lord.

Thinking of sweet Lyla, who had cried and prayed in the small sept relentlessly like a Septa for the poor Stark boy. She was a kind girl with a large heart. She would weep for anyone, whether her blood or a man she never knew. That reminded him of how little Joffrey seemed to care. Lack of empathy was not good for a king. Even Robert had given his sincerest sympathies. Even Cersei had the decency to feigned empathy for the Starks. But Joffrey smirked and ridiculed as if a young lordling was not laying in his possible deathbed.

"Before you go," Tyrion began, starting to be serious with his pompous nephew, "you will call on Lord and Lady Stark and offer your sympathies."

"What good will my sympathies do them?" He asked.

Tyrion couldn't even begin the fathom the idea that this boy would one day be the king of all seven kingdoms. Seven hells. "None. But it is expected of you. Your absence had already been noted."

"The boy means nothing to me," he spat. Vorian looked at him with disgust. The man had a shared hatred of Lannisters and Starks, but his hatred did not extend to the small child who had done no wrong. Tyrion as well did not like how he laughed at the confession that he did not care for a small child who could have died. "Lyla had been crying endlessly. I can't stand the wailing of women." That earned him a good and hard strike across the face from his uncle.

Had he spoken ill of Lyla once more, Ser Vorian may not have been able to contain his fury and would have carved Joffrey like a honey cake. The small simple painful that it sent Joffrey across as he caressed his sore cheek. Vorian almost laughed at how he sounded like a woman when he was hit by Tyrion. He remembered how Lyla hit him for pestering Robb in the courtyard. The boy was too weak, nothing like what is father was once. Even now, Robert was strong and fearless.

"One word and I'll hit you again," Tyrion warned him.

"I'm telling mother!" Joffrey whined.

Tyrion slapped him again for good measure. The once again held his cheek and wailed.

"Go!" Tyrion informed him, "tell her. But first you will get to Lord and Lady Stark and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are, that you are at their service, and that all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"