[#008] DUTY BOUND (GAME OF THRONES / ASOIAF)

[m_findlow]

Theme Prompt: #008 – Schadenfreude
Title: Duty bound
Fandom: Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Rating/Warnings: PG-15 (language, mature themes)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Tyrion finds little to be happy about with this latest turn of events.


Tyrion stomped into the room, finding Bronn already inside, seemingly waiting for him. The sellsword made himself at home, lounging back in the gilt-edged chair, his dusty boots resting on the table top as he cradled a goblet that was probably worth more then he'd earned in a year before coming into the Lannister's employ. For the moment however, Tyrion paid him no heed, headed straight for the side table, ignoring the platter of grapes and sweet fruit. There was only one grape he was interested in, and it came pressed and aged in oak. He poured and sculled the first glass, before pouring again to refill it.

'Why is there no more wine?' he complained, watching the dregs of red liquid dribble from the flagon, barely filling the glass halfway.

Bronn gave him a questioning look, tipping back his own glass before reaching for a second flagon by his side and offering it.

Tyrion quirked an eye at him. 'You had it all along? Just how much of my wine have you drunk, Bronn?'

'Not early enough. All this fancy slop for lords and ladies might taste nice, but a cheap flagon from Fleabottom will get you drunk twice as quick.'

'Perhaps we should go there then,' Tyrion muttered despondently.

'Good meeting then, was it?'

Tyrion slumped into a chair opposite Bronn, avoiding the feet that might otherwise block his view. 'Hardly. I've just had to tell Sansa Stark that we're to be married within the fortnight.'

Bronn choked on a mouthful of Dornish red, sitting up and drawing his feet from the table. 'You? And the Stark girl?'

'Not my idea, I assure you. In fact a thoroughly unpleasant business, made worse by the fact that Sansa insisted Shae stay in the room to bear witness to the news.'

Bronn couldn't help but be amused at the image of Tyrion's mistress and future wife sharing in the news. Shae would have his balls in a vice just as soon as she could get hold of them. 'More wine?' he asked, offering to fill both glasses. 'I'll bet your sister had a hand in that.'

Tyrion gratefully accepted. 'Normally I would agree with you, but on this occasion it was all my father's doing. At least I had the pleasure of watching that smug grin on Cersei's face disappear. It turns out I'm not the only one destined to be wedded. Loras Tyrrell will find very little to be pleased about either I imagine, though at least he won't be expecting to warm Cersei's bed. My father takes great pleasure from making his children as miserable as possible, but today he has truly excelled himself. Even Joffrey would not be so cruel and he tortures animals for sport.'

Bronn shook his head, smirked and sipped his wine in silence.

Tyrion smoldered at the sellsword's cadence. 'What? You find this amusing, do you?'

'Only your family could find a way to complain about an arranged marriage.' He sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. 'Think about it. You marry Sansa Stark and you inherit the entire fucking north.'

'Sansa doesn't hold the north,' Tyrion reminded him.

'Aye, maybe not right now,' Bronn conceded, 'but Stannis Baratheon is headed south from Castle Black if news is to be believed, and Roose Bolton is a cunt who won't stand a chance of holding Winterfell against him. Stannis mowed down an entire fucking army of Wildlings. He'll make short work of a bunch of Bolton rabble, and then what? Stannis doesn't want to rule the north. He'll want a Stark to hold it, and she's the only one left. Not to mention you'll inherit Casterly Rock when the old man pops his clogs. And as for Cersei? We all know Loras has no interest in breasts, and your sister has no interest in him. He gets to keep fucking blokes, and she gets to keep fucking Jaime. I'd call that a win-win situation.'

'I prayed that the Stark girl might be left out of all of this now that her family is dead.'

'At least she won't have to bed that cunt nephew of yours.'

Tyrion slowed his drinking to a pensive sipping. Bronn wasn't nearly as stupid as people thought. With the right breeding he could have been just as good a political manipulator as Tyrion's father. He'd hoped that one day he might be as skilled as his father on that count, but today he'd been thoroughly outplayed. 'You forget one thing, Bronn,' he began.

'Oh, aye?'

'If Stannis only has eyes on taking the capital, how will he feel about a Lannister holding both the north and the west? It's the Lannisters he'll have to kill if he wants the crown.'

Bronn leaned back and rested one boot back on the table. 'That depends. Are you a Lannister first, or do you say fuck 'em, and worry about yourself?'

'My father would say everything we do is for the sake of the Lannister name.'

Bronn smirked at him. 'And how's that working out for you so far?'

Once a Lannister, always a Lannister, he thought. Well, except perhaps for that sniveling Lancel Lannister. Word had it he'd lost his guile and gone simpering to the septons to ask for a place in their religious order. Then again, he probably didn't have any cock left after Cersei had been done with it. Chastity would suit him well.

'You see,' Bronn continued on, 'the beauty of not having a family name is that you only ever do what suits you. Nobody fucks you over to preserve your family name. Not that I think you're being fucked over. Not yet, anyway. You really think Stannis could take King's Landing?'

'I never bet against my family,' Tyrion replied. He'd lost that bet more than once, but never had his own head been the prize for which he'd gambled.

Bronn smiled and raised his glass. 'Then I wish you well in your upcoming nuptials.'