On My Honor ‣ Jaime Lannister

Woman's Weapon

TYRION

Tyrion was standing before Naya Stark, Robb Stark, and Maester Luwin with Yoren from Castle Black by his side. He noticed Naya looked a little tired and Robb was uneasy. The young Stark boy's distaste for him was palpable and made Tyrion uncomfortable as well. He noticed the silence brought upon them and broke it.

"I must say I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit," said Tyrion.

"Yes, Robb, he received a much warmer welcome last time he was a visitor," Naya said through gritted teeth, glaring daggers into her brother. "Lord Tyrion, forgive him. My brother insists on being a petulant nit."

Tyrion noticed how Robb looked annoyed. Not only did Robb distrust the Lannisters, but he and Naya had been working side by side all day handling appointments and though they loved each other, he was growing sick of her constant presence. They had spent too much time together and wanted nothing more than to rip the other's head off in true sibling fashion.

"We are pleasantly surprised at your arrival," she continued. "How long do you expect to stay, Lord Tyrion?"

"Not long, my lady," he replied. "Yoren and I are headed to King's Landing."

"We would be more than happy to accommodate rooms for both of you for the night."

Tyrion glanced at Robb's hardened expression and mused, "I must say, I believe those welcoming words belong to only you."

"I'm afraid that might be true," she replied with a smile. "But I will be more than happy to accommodate you with or without my brother's blessing."

"I think I might find the local brothel more suitable to my tastes."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they had a warm bed set for you already."

The door opened and in came the giant Hodor carrying Bran like a babe, his limp legs swinging about.

Tyrion's eyes flitted to the boy and he could only feel sympathy.

"So it's true," the Imp mused. "Hello, Bran."

Bran smiled lamely out of courtesy, feeling ridiculous in the giant man's hold.

"Do you remember anything about what happened?" Tyrion inquired.

"He has no memory of that day," Maester Luwin spoke.

"Curious."

"Why are you here?" Robb asked.

Ignoring him, Tyrion asked Bran, "Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt."

"Kneel, Hodor," Bran ordered politely, the giant man in question kneeling down and holding Bran up by the waist, feet touching the ground for the first time in months though it wasn't like the little lord could feel it.

"Do you like to ride, Bran?" he asked.

"Yes," the little boy answered. "Well, I mean I did like to."

"The boy has lost the use of his legs," Maester Luwin informed.

"What of it? With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple," Bran protested.

"Then I'm not a dwarf," he countered. "My father will rejoice to hear it."

Bran's face was overtaken with glum. Tyrion knew that face all too well. He noticed it more when he learned he was to never grow as tall as the lords of the land. He wore that face often, especially around the father that managed to make him feel smaller than he was.