Lone Wolf || Tyrion Lannister

Chapter Twenty Three

"You were serious," Tyrion said when he saw her holding the sword. While he didn't doubt her, Tyrion still had a hard time believing that Ned would have allowed his oldest daughter to learn how to fight. Seeing Anari with her own sword, however, changed his mind.

Anari opened her eyes before she lowered Valkyrie and smiled. "Of course," she replied. "Jon gave me this sword," again, Anari looked down at the blade fondly. "He said it would make him feel better knowing I had something to use to protect myself."

Looking up at Tyrion once more, Anari couldn't help but smirk. Deciding to show him what she had learned, she began her water dancing. Taking a slow deep breath, Anari held the blade up and began. Her movements were elegant and swift, and it kept Tyrion entranced as he watched his wife move so fluidly and easily.

Despite still wearing a dress, Anari's feet moved lightly and swiftly. Not a step was out of place, and Anari couldn't help the small smile that made its way onto her face. Even after all this time, she was still able to remember the steps Syrio had taught her.

For a moment, she debated on doing the summersault Syrio had taught her, but she eventually decided against it. While she trusted herself, Anari wasn't sure her dress would allow her to do such a movement without looking silly. When she was done with her drill, Anari looked to Tyrion once more.

"Impressive," Tyrion said honestly. He was impressed with how she had been able to move her body in such ways, especially wearing a dress with plenty of heavy material.

"Thank you," Anari smiled. It felt good to go through the movements, just as it felt nice to hold her sword again. Turning, Anari grabbed the scabbard to sheathe her sword.

"Did you name it?" Tyrion questioned.

"Valkyrie," Anari replied as she turned to face him once more.

"After the warrior ladies of old," Tyrion smirked. "Very fitting." It almost seemed right for Anari to have a sword. She had looked powerful and strong when she held the blade in her hand. In the past, Northern women knew how to fight; they were strong so they could stand with their men.

Anari somehow seemed to balance both being a warrior and being a lady. Not for the first time, Tyrion was proud to call himself her friend. Glancing down at the book before him, however, Tyrion couldn't help but sigh. There was so much to do, the crown was so deeply in debt that it would take years to dig themselves out.

Tyrion had been looking at the books for so long that the numbers were beginning to blur together. Lord Baelish really screwed them over by borrowing so much money. The Iron Bank was going to want to collect, and if they didn't come up with the money, then the bank would begin to fund their enemies.

The entire situation was beginning to give Tyrion a headache. Upon seeing his struggle Anari walked a little closer. "Take a break," she suggested. Tyrion glanced up at her when she spoke. "It'll be of no use if you're not able to properly work on it. So, why bother straining and further frustrating yourself over it?"

Tyrion nodded in return as he closed the book and ran a hand down his face. Why his father thought he was a good fit as Master of Coin was beyond him. Tyrion was good at spending money, but he didn't really know how to save money and keep a record of it.

While he knew that over time he would understand it better, for the moment it was frustrating. "My mother often told my father to take a break whenever he was getting frustrated over something," Anari said quietly. Glancing back up at his wife, he saw the small frown forming on her lips.

"I'm sorry," he replied.

"For what?" Anari questioned, her brows knitting together in confusion. He had nothing to be sorry for, so his apology seemed out of place.