He was called an imp, a dwarf, and a freak his entire life…by
family and strangers alike…that it felt so strange to be called anything but.
The moment he heard his name Tyrion
fall from her lips, he felt his heart leap in a way he had only read about. The
moment he heard her laugh, he couldn’t help but turn and look for her
everything he heard something similar to it. She lit up his life, gave him a
reason to wake up every morning.
She…Y/n of House Y/l/n…she was the daughter to a Lord of the
Westerlands. A vassel under Tyrion’s father. The only daughter and youngest
child to the Lord of that House. She was beautiful, far more so than his sister
Cersei could ever dream of being, and the way she was so sweet and gentle…Tyrion
always wanted to take up a sword and defend her with his life whenever she was
near him. On that very first day, the day he first laid eyes on her and she
smiled so brightly…so purely at him as if he wasn’t stunted with mix matched
eyes and an ugly face, Tyrion swore one day he was going to marry her. Or, at
the least, make sure she married someone who would truly love and care for her.
It wouldn’t be until many years after that first meeting
that Tyrion of House Lannister would be able to make good on this promise.
The war for the Dawn was over, Daenerys Targaryen…the Mother
of Dragons…now sat the iron throne and Westeros was at peace once more. The
Queen’s small council, led by Tyrion himself, had talked her into hosting a
ball on the one year mark of her coronation. People from all of the seven
kingdoms came to the capital to celebrate…but none of them caught his attention
and stole his breath like Y/n did.
She was still just as beautiful and gentle as she had been
when they were kids. The war had made her widow, although Tyrion heard it
through the grapevine that the marriage was far from being a happy one and that
Y/n was better off.
She didn’t dance with anyone, not until Tyrion found her
outside in the gardens and asked her softly for a slow dance (while no one was
around to mock either of them). Y/n smiled brightly but then asked, “Why not
dance in doors, My Lord Hand? The music is that way and I would be able to see
your hand of the king pen better. How do I know you are even who you say you
“How many dwarfs do you think are here tonight, My Lady?”
Tyrion asked dryly, lifting a brow as he looked up at her, surprised at her
She frowned, “There are no dwarfs here, My Lord Hand, there
are simply men and women who all wish to drink and dance. Do you not agree?”
He was speechless and could do nothing but take her hand and
walk her back inside to the throne room. Everyone watched them, but for the
first time Tyrion didn’t notice all the eyes on him that at one time would have
made him uneasy and would have filled him with the desire to run away. In that
moment he could do nothing but dance around in small, slow circles as he stared
up at Y/n and she stared back down at him with a smile and a laugh that had
haunted his dreams since he was just a boy.