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Margaery met the eyes of each man in turn. Prince Oberyn seemed to be just as charming as her brother had described him to be, and even though he was the one responsible for her brother's injury, she could not hold ill will against the man. Not when that same brother seemed so friendly with him. With Jon, she did her best to appear as strong as possible before him by not backing down and keeping her eyes firmly trained on his own. The North, and the Sorcerer especially, valued strength. So, she would give them strength. And to be truthful, it wasn't hard to keep her eyes fixed on Jon's. They were an interesting and lovely shade of color that she had never seen before. So dark, but with a tinge of coloring that she couldn't identify. Though when she went to meet the eyes of Lord Asher, she hesitated a moment as his name fully came to her. "Lord Asher, tell me, are you by chance family with Lady Mira Forrester?"
Lord Asher's head tilted slightly. "Aye, my lady. She's my younger sister."
Margaery smiled at her good fortune. Not only was she able to start impressing upon the Starks by meeting up with Lord Jon, but she would also be able to start forging a relationship with the family of her future handmaiden. "Then we shall be seeing and hearing more of each other in the future, my lord. Part of our reason for coming North was to collect your sister as she will be my handmaiden in Highgarden upon our return south."
"Oh," Lord Asher responded, blinking and clearly not sure how to follow up. "Well, that, um…It'll be good for her. Thank you for – for taking her in, my lady."
Favoring her future handmaiden's brother with a smile, she turned her attention to Jon Stark and Prince Oberyn. "Lord Jon, Prince Oberyn. Thank you both for your timely intervention in aiding us against these brigands."
"Your words are appreciated, Lady Margaery," Jon said, his voice calm yet authoritative. "It is the North who offers our apologies for this even occurring my Lady. These brigands are remnants of the Houses that attempted to usurp House Stark nearly a year ago. Instead of accepting the actions of those they served and trying to move forward, they turn brigand and we have been attempting to locate and bring them to justice for some time. It was merely ill luck that you and your family got involved. But I am heartened that we were able to arrive before too much damage was done."
"And as for myself, Lady Tyrell, I was merely out with a ride with this strapping young man here and my niece when we ran across your column just as the trap was sprung," Prince Oberyn explained.
Ever since she was young, Margaery had been taught all aspects of the game, including how to read those who played with and against you. So, when Jon's body went from relaxed to rigid at the mention of Prince Oberyn's niece, she immediately took note of the change. 'Strange. Prince Oberyn has only one niece. And that is Princess Arianne. And Jon's sudden shift at her name… There's some sort of history between the two. But what?'
"Regardless, both of your interventions were most timely and saved a good many lives her—"
"Oh, enough flattery, Margaery. Men are perfectly capable of stroking their own egos to the point of popping off. They don't need your help to get to that point."
Margaery just barely managed to hold in a wince as her grandmother approached them. While she truly loved her grandmother and appreciated her blunt honesty, she also wasn't blind to the fact that her grandmother's mannerisms had slighted more than one individual in the past. And these men were not amongst those they could afford to slight. Not when the entire purpose of this voyage was to create ties with House Stark.
"Ah, Lady Olenna Tyrell. I see that age has not curbed your tongue in the slightest," Prince Oberyn smiled, seemingly not at all surprised or put off by her grandmother's tone or words.
Her grandmother's steps didn't slow as she picked her way across the field, her twin guards taking up position beside her as she walked. "Ah, the man-whore of Westeros himself. Be careful not to stand too close to that one, Margaery. You're likely to catch some sort of rash. And you, you're a Stark, are you not? Of course you are. The wolf there speaks louder than you do." It may have been a trick of the eye, but Margaery could've sworn the white wolf near Jon's feet tilted his head in confusion as if he could understand what her grandmother was saying and didn't appreciate it. "Now, if you men are quite finish stroking each other's ego or trying to get my granddaughter to do it for you, perhaps we can move the forward so that we can speak with one another without the stench of the dead assaulting us, hm? You agree? Good. Then get moving. Margaery, we have much to talk about, young lady."
Watching her grandmother promptly turn around and leave, Margaery turned back to the others. "Forgive my grandmother, my Lords, Prince Oberyn. But today has been most trying for all of us."
"No need for such apologies Lady Margaery. If I had a copper for every time Lady Olenna has insulted me, I'd be richer than the Triarchs of Volantis right now." Prince Oberyn smiled at her. "But she does have a point. Pleasantries are best saved for when you are not straddling the dead. Care to ride back with us, Jon? I know that Arianne has been looking forward to your reunion and she would be pleased to see you sooner than she'd thought."
Again, Margaery took careful note of Jon's posture and the slightest reddening of his ears. Something had clearly happened between him and Arianne. The only question was what? And even more confusing was the fact that, unless she was severely misreading what was going on, Oberyn seemed to be almost encouraging a continuation of whatever was between them. Most peculiar.
"Of course, Prince Oberyn," Jon nodded, his unease seeming to disappear in an instant. "Lady Tyrell, Lord Tyrell. Castle Cerwyn is less than a half a day's ride north and Winterfell is yet still another half day beyond that. I know that Lord Cerwyn will offer his hospitality to us all for the night if you wish. Or we can press on to Winterfell through the night if you wish."
"Castle Cerwyn would be the better choice, I feel," her brother stated, looking around at those who were still trying to clean up after the skirmish. "We have injured and at least one of the wagons is broken. It'd be best if we don't push things too hard and take the night to recover ourselves before pressing onwards."
Jon nodded, clearly expecting the answer. "I'll send the Wolf Rangers that accompanied me onward to Castle Cerwyn to announce our arrival."
"You have our thanks, Lord Jon," Margaery said, favoring him with a smile as she decided to test something. "And we will find no insult in you leaving us to join with Lord Asher and Prince Oberyn as they return to Princess Arianne and their own retinue."
There it was again. Faint, but the signs were definitely there. The slightest twitch and the slightest turning of red at the mention of Arianne. 'He's clearly infatuated with her. But the question is whether the infatuation is returned on her end? Or is she merely playing a part to secure the Martells and Dorne the Northern Sorcerer's apprentice and permanent ties with the North? I'll have to talk with grandmother and Willias once we are out of hearing. This changes things.'
Leaving the men, Margaery quickly and quietly made her way back to the carriage where her grandmother waited. Coming to the steps, she barely gave her grandmother's two guards a passing glance as she hoisted herself up into the carriage and retook her seat directly across from her grandmother. It was only after she was seated that she noticed the thumping of her own heart beating wildly in her chest. And it was only after her grandmother took hold of her hands that she realized she was shaking.
"You did well, my dear," she heard her grandmother say. But her voice sounded like she was talking to her from across a room instead of directly in front of her. "You showed your strength to the Northmen, and a Stark no less. And you stood strong before one of the snakes of Dorne. Very well done, Margaery. Though the arrival of the Martells is one that we should be concerned with. No doubt they are here to use their brief trade relationship and the fact that the man-whore spent time with the sorcerer to try and poach one of the wolves for their own."
Taking a breath, Margaery did her best to put the aftermath of the skirmish to the back of her mind as she focused on her grandmother and the unexpected appearance of the Martells. "I–If they are here for that, then I believe I may know who they are trying to claim."
"Oh?" her grandmother responded, giving her a look Margaery knew all too well.
"I believe that the Martells have their sights set on Jon Sn – Stark."
Her grandmother leaned back in her seat and neatly folded her hands in her lap. "And what makes you think that?"
Biting her lip, Margaery took a moment to choose her words carefully. "Prince Oberyn made it a point of mentioning the presence of his niece, Arianne, several times. And each time he did, Jon reacted in a way that suggested that he…well…knew the Princess well. Just how well that is, I do not know. But something must have happened between the two of them during his brief stay in Dorne when the sorcerer and the North returned from Valyria. If the Martells are here to try and arrange a betrothal, I believe that they will try and secure one between Arianne and Jon."
Humming to herself, Margaery's grandmother turned and stared out the window at the now retreating forms of Prince Oberyn and Jon Stark. "It is a possibility. And a likely one at that. Doran hasn't betrothed the girl to anyone yet, even though she's his heir. Perhaps one of the few good traditions I can think of that come out of that wasteland. A bastard becoming a Prince Consort isn't unheard of in that land. It's been made even more feasible now that the boy has been legitimized as a full Stark. Doing so would allow them to claim the first Apprentice to the Sorcerer himself, giving them a very powerful weapon to wield in terms of not only his supposed powers, but also through his other true-born siblings. Hmmm, if the Starks and the Martells manage to formalize an alliance through marriage, it would tie yet another Kingdom to the North, giving the wolves that much more influence. Which means that securing Sansa for Willias now means far more than it did when we left Highgarden."
Sitting astride her horse with her riding skirt legs gently flapping in the breeze, Arianne Martell watched while lightly biting her lip as she surveyed the aftermath of the skirmish that had fallen upon the Tyrells. This was the first battle, or rather skirmish, that she'd ever seen outside of the melee in a tournament. And that paled in comparison to what she'd just witnessed. The brutality was just, gods, and this wasn't even a real battle. Just a skirmish at worst. "Looks like they are cleaning up any stragglers."
Turning her head, she cast a glance over to her cousin Tyene, who was sitting tall in her saddle with her blond hair flowing freely in the wind. But while her cousin appeared to be the epitome of calm, Arianne knew better. Her Uncle Oberyn, Tyene's own father, was down in the thick of the fighting, as was Obara. But Tyene was stuck here, along with her uncle's paramour Ellaria, her other cousin Nymeria and a handful of House Martell guards that had not followed her uncle into the fight. Well away from the fighting.
"That it does," Arianne nodded, her eyes searching the small mass of bodies for her uncle, trying to make sure that he was alright.
"My love is fine," Ellaria said, nudging her horse so that it was level with Arianne. "Though, I will admit that I do not enjoy the thought of him running head long into every fight he finds. It does the heart no good. But that is just who your uncle is. And it is who Obara is turning out to be as well. All we can do is have faith in their skills and trust that they will return to us. And…it looks as if our faith has been rewarded. There is my love now returning to us. And he does not appear to be returning alone, Princess."
Narrowing her eyes, Arianne quickly spotted her uncle, Obara and the few House guards that'd accompanied them into the fight. And at her uncle's right hand was a young man with dark hair wearing a black cloak and who had a pure white dog running alongside his horse. 'No, not a dog,' Arianne realized, a slight grin coming to her as the approaching group got close enough for her to start making out details. 'A wolf. A white wolf. And there is only one man who is said to have a white wolf at his command. Jon Stark. My Jon. My wolf.'
She didn't know when it'd happened, but sometime after Jon had departed from Sunspear her thoughts and feelings towards the Northern bastard had started to change. She wouldn't lie; the first that had truly attracted her attention to him was the fact that he was apparently the favored student of the Sorcerer. But after getting to know him, she found that he was so much more than just the Sorcerer's Apprentice. He was, unlike any young man she had ever met. He was more skilled, thoughtful, and intelligent than most men twice or even thrice his age. Yet he was still humble and honorable. And after some time spent apart, Arianne came to the stark realization, no pun intended, that she just wanted Jon. His powers and the political advantage he could bring to her, while still important, had gone to the back of her mind whenever she thought of him. She just wanted him by her side. A fact that her cousins had teased her relentlessly about ever since she'd made that revelation to them.
'And now, I'm about to see him once more,' she thought happily. The grin growing with each moment the group drew closer, only to falter as she looked down at herself. 'And here I am, unbathed for a week and wearing a riding dress that is completely unflattering! I'd planned on making another impression on Jon upon our reunion, one that he wouldn't be able to get rid of so easily. But now there's no chance of that happening! Though…Perhaps this is still salvageable. Ellaria always said that there are few things that can get Uncle Oberyn's blood flowing like a good fight. Perhaps I can…tempt him and leave an impression that way? Hmm…I wonder? With his blood flowing, will he take the initiative when properly provoked? Or will I have to take his hand and lead him through the dance?'
As they drew close enough so that Arianne could hear their voices, she saw that her uncle was looking incredibly smug. 'No doubt he knew exactly what I had hoped to achieve with a reunion with Jon…and he more than likely invited Jon along just to mess with me.' "Ah, dear niece, daughters, my love," Oberyn greeted each of them in turn as he brought his horse alongside Ellaria's so that the two could share a very…passionate reunion.
Ignoring the display, Arianne instead focused her attention on Jon. Who, she noted, seemed to be taking her uncle's antics in stride. 'It's only been a year, and I can tell he has changed. When he was in Dorne such and open display would have at least the tips of his ears turning red. But now he simply brushes it off as an everyday occurrence. And he has filled out quite nicely in that time as well. Though that beard, or what is starting to be a beard, needs some work.'
"Princess Arianne, welcome to the North. Though I do wish that our reunion was under better circumstances, it is…good to see you again," Jon greeted her, his voice firm and warm, though she could detect just the slightest bit of shaking that he was obviously trying to keep out of his voice.
'Well, at least he hasn't changed too much.' Arianne thought with a grin. "Jon…how many times have I told you how you are to address me? It's not hard, just my name. Now, try again properly."
Jon blinked, then graced her with a smile that seemed to warm his face. "As you wish, Arianne."
It was such a simple thing but hearing her name on his lips as if he were tasting a fine wine and savoring it… It sent shivers down her spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold air of the North. 'Oh yes…this is going to be a most…fortuitous journey to Winterfell.'
Pursing through the shelves that contained the Northern Sorcerer's private library, Tyrion Lannister could do little more than marvel at the rather impressive collection the man had managed to acquire in his relatively short time here in the North. The main library within Winterfell was impressive beyond measure and put Casterly Rock's to shame. And this library only added onto the already impressive collection. Pulling down a book at random, Tyrion fought down the jealousy rising within him as he stared down at the Valyrian language written within the tome. 'Of course, most of these came from the ruins of Valyria,' Tyrion thought, cursing the fact that he'd never taken the opportunity to learn the language of the Dragon Lords, though granted outside of some parts of Essos it was pretty much useless. 'But still, each of these books are probably worth a small keep a piece. To the right people, the sorcerer could probably generate enough coin from the sale of these books to surpass both House Lannister's and House Tyrell's combined wealth.'
Putting the book back in place, Tyrion continued his way down the length of the shelf, intent on making the most of his time now that he finally had a moment to do so even after being in Winterfell for nearly five days and nights. Ever since he'd arrived in Winterfell with his uncle and niece, he had been a very busy little man. Personally, he wanted to do nothing more than just sit and read and watch the Sorcerer's lessons. But his father had pointedly informed him before he left that his going to Winterfell was not for mere pleasure. His father had given him a list of tasks he was to perform that was nearly as tall as he was. And he had to work fast as he learned on the very day of their arrival that House Lannister was not alone in it's desire to gain an 'in' with the North as both House Tyrell and House Martell were sending envoys that were due to arrive within only a few days. So, for the first few days he spent every waking moment taking constant mental notes of everything the sorcerer had done to Winterfell before retreating to his room and writing them all down so that he wouldn't forget any detail no matter how small.
The glassmaking was astonishing to watch. While in theory, now that he knew the secret behind it, it wasn't difficult. But the craftsman of the North had turned glassmaking into almost an art form. Just to see how good they'd gotten, Tyrion had commissioned a set of bowls and chalices worthy of House Lannister. The master craftsman hadn't even batted an eye at the request and had simply stated a price, which was unfortunately almost all the gold Tyrion had on him and given him the timeframe of eight days to complete the work. 'It'd be possible to start our own production in the Westerlands, perhaps a keep along the shoreline where there is sand aplenty,' Tyrion mused as his fingers drifted along the spines of the books. 'But it will take years to catch up to the Northmen. And even then, we would only be able to do so if they remain stagnant in the craft. Which is unlikely considering how far they've come in such a short time.'
His next target was the printing press. Which, to him, was honestly the greatest treasure in the North. It was so…intricate that he'd spent a full day just observing how the thing worked and writing down everything he could. And even after that, he doubted that he got everything and didn't know whether House Lannister would be able to replicate the device or not. Then there was the 'school', as it was known. A place of learning for the young children both high and lowborn. And then the college where the more studiously inclined individuals went. Then the training regimes that the sorcerer imposed on both his acolytes, which even with Joy's help he couldn't make sense of.
The only mild break he had was two nights ago when he made his way down to the brothel in Winter Town. But even that wasn't just about finding pleasurable company for the night. For the whore he'd chosen was the very same one that he'd sent to the North in the first place. Unfortunately, she didn't have much to tell him as most of her patrons didn't have much to say about the going's on in Winterfell. And her best source of information, the Greyjoy lad who had become her most frequent patron, had only the coin to visit her twice since returning to the North with Lord Stark. But he did give her a bit of information that Tyrion was very interested in. Information regarding the few small folk that came back from King's Landing with the Starks. The young lad was a motherless bastard who worked as a blacksmith's apprentice before the sorcerer got his hands on him. The young mother who came with them was a former whore who now worked on the looms in Winterfell. And while she didn't have any magic within her, her infant daughter apparently did. And it was because of her daughter that the woman was allowed to travel North and treated pretty much like a noble lady. And the last of the smallfolk was apparently a young girl that the sorcerer rescued. Though just why the sorcerer had taken an interest in her seeing as how she wasn't joining the sorcerer's other acolytes in their lessons, that Theon didn't know. 'I'll have to try and find this young girl,' Tyrion frowned, his mind wandering as he walked. 'The sorcerer never does anything without reason. So why would he take in a young girl wh—?'
His thoughts scattered as he turned the corner of a shelf and ran straight into someone small, knocking both of them to the ground. "Ouch! Wat–oh! Milord–forgive me! I–I didn't see you or hear you coming!"
Picking himself up off the ground, Tyrion found a head of golden hair scrambling around him trying to pick up a few cleaning instruments that the girl must've dropped when they collided. "No worries, girl," he said, picking up a feather duster and holding it out for her to take. "I am quite a small man and am often…missed…"
His words died in his throat as his heart seized in his chest. The girl's face when she looked up at him… He knew her face. It was younger than the one that so regularly haunted and mocked his dreams, but the face was almost the same. And her eyes. One green. The other dark to almost black.
"Thank–Thank you, milord," the girl stammered, quickly taking the duster from him.
Forcing himself to breathe, Tyrion looked down at the girl carefully. "Who are you, girl?"
The girl's hand froze in the act of picking up a rag. "Me–My name be Anna, milord," she said, causing Tyrion's heart to stop beating once again. "I—I clean the Sorcerer's library when I'm not learning from Lady Bethany. I wasn't expectin nobody today, milord. Usually, only Lady Talisa be in the library at this hour."
'Her name. Her face. Her eyes. Gods…It's impossible. Isn't it?' "I see," Tyrion responded, doing everything he could think of to try and remain calm. "And tell me, girl, do your parents also work to help clean?"
The girl shook her head slowly. "No, milord. Me ma be dead. She died back in the big city, then…then bad men came, and…and they did…they did bad things. But then the sorcerer and a man in a white cloak came and saved me! And the sorcerer brought me here. The sorcerer is such a good man! He's letting me learn how to read and write and he says that I'm good at it. And, and he gives me extra coin to help Lady Talisa and to help clean up around his library. I – I miss my ma, but…but I'm happy here."
"I see," Tyrion swallowed the lump in his throat. "And…what of your father, gi – Anna?"
Anna ceased slightly as her right hand came up and clutched at something that was around her neck and tucked into her dress. A pendant perhaps? "I–I never knew me father, milord," Anna stated plainly, though with a clear touch of sadness in her voice. "Mama…ma said they were married in secret and that he was a lord of some sort. She said she loved him but he…he betrayed her in the worst way. She–She never said what he did but…but he hurt mama bad. And then she – she was driven away from her home and left on her own by me father's family. Mama, she…she never said any more about me father than that."
Tyrion was near shaking at this point. Too many things were matching up for his liking…but it was impossible. Wasn't it? "And – And what is it that you are holding onto so dearly there, Anna?"
Blinking away the tears forming in her eyes, the girl pulled on a thin cord that was around her neck. When the pendant came clear of her dress, any doubts that were left in Tyrion's mind were gone as he saw the poorly repaired cheap lion pendant that'd been hidden. After all, he'd been the one to repair that exact pendant and give it to his whore of a first wife. "That's…quite the treasure you have there, Anna."
"Thank you, milord,"
'Not milord…father,' Tyrion wanted to tell her, but he didn't. He couldn't. Not until he had some answers. "Tell me, girl. You said that a man in a white cloak found you as well as the sorcerer. Would you be able to describe this man to me?"
Anna blinked at him before gracing him with a dazzling smile and nodding. "His hair was yellow like mine. And he had green eyes and smiled a lot. At least he did until he went and talked quietly to the Lord Sorcerer. Then he…he wasn't smiling anymore. And I never saw him again after that."
'Jamie.' For the first time in his life, Tyrion felt pure unbridled anger at the only member of his family outside of his Uncle Gerion who showed him any amount of decency in his shit life. 'Did he know about her? Or did he just happen to come across her and recognize her? And if so, why did he send her North? Why – Why didn't he send her to me! She's my daughter, for fuck's sake! Why would he send her so far away and not tell me about her? And Nox…Does he know? That's a stupid question. Of course, he knows who she is. She just told me that she usually works in the library at this time of day. And Nox specifically told me to come here at this time when the place was mostly deserted. He wanted the two of us to meet!'
"Keep that pendant safe, Anna," Tyrion said, trying his best to smile at the girl and failing miserably. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I believe that I need to have a few words with the Lord Sorcerer myself."
Leaving the young girl who was his daughter was perhaps one of the hardest things Tyrion had ever done in his entire life, but he needed to talk to Nox immediately. Not bothering to ask anyone for directions, he simply started to climb the tower, assuming that the sorcerer's private quarters were at the very top. But before he could reach the top of the tower, a door was suddenly flung open in his path. What was strange though was that no one seemed to have opened said door. It simply opened on its own. Peeking through the doorway, Tyrion clenched his teeth as he spotted the sorcerer kneeling in the middle of the room.
"Brave of you to trespass so readily into the domain of a Sith, Tyrion Lannister. Especially as you were not invited." the sorcerer said, his back still turned to Tyrion.
Fighting down every instinct within him that was telling him to turn tail and run. Tyrion forced himself to walk into the room. As soon as he did, the door slammed shut behind him and the latch fell in place, locking the two of them in the room together.
"I don't take to being threatened well, sorcerer." He didn't know just how or why he was able to keep his voice as steady as it was, but he just hoped that whatever it was that was allowing him to confront the sorcerer like this would hold out for a while longer.
"Threatened?" the sorcerer questioned, rising to his feet and turning to face him. The cloth that usually covered his face was gone, showing his burn-scarred eyes for all to see. "That was no threat Tyrion. Merely an education, if you will. Sith do not take to being intruded upon well."
"Not that," Tyrion countered, fighting to keep his eyes on the man's scarred face. "I am not a fool, sorcerer. I know how this game is played better than most. And I know when a threat is being waved in my face."
The sorcerer tilted his head slightly to the side. "I see. So, you have met your daughter then. A good girl. One you should be proud—"
"Cut the horse shit, sorcerer!" Tyrion yelled, taking a step towards the sorcerer. "You have my daughter! And I swear to the gods, old and new, that should anything happen to her, I'll bring an end to—"
Something invisible struck him in the gut, forcing the air from his lungs and ending his tirade. Before he could recover his wits, he felt himself being dragged back and slammed against the wall before being raised up and held in place so that he and the sorcerer were now at eye level.
"You say that you do not take to threats well, Tyrion." The very air in the room almost seemed to turn to ice as Tyrion began shivering as he was held in the air by unseen bindings as the sorcerer advanced on him. "But Sith do not take well to even the idea of a threat. Your daughter being here and you meeting her was no threat, Tyrion. Merely a chance to stage a reunion between a father and his daughter away from prying eyes. Now, we can either sit down and talk. Or you can continue to try and threaten me with whatever imagination you have. In which case, well…Just ask Ser Lyn Corbray how inventive I can be with those who cross me. Now. Choose. Talk. Or something far more unpleasant."
Whatever was keeping him in the air and turning the air to ice disappeared as Tyrion's feet hit the floor. "Not really much of a choice, is there?" Tyrion asked, making his decision known as he worked to calm himself to deal with the sorcerer with a clear mind. "Wouldn't happen to have any wine up here, would you?"
"It would be best if you kept your wits about you for now, Tyrion," the sorcerer informed him, returning to the center of the room and kneeling down in the same place he'd been in when Tyrion arrived. "You can indulge yourself later."
Frowning at not finding any seats and being denied a drink, Tyrion sat down on the cold stone floor a few paces in front of the sorcerer. "Not necessarily the most comfortable of seats," he grumbled, fidgeting as he tried to find a comfortable manner for which to sit.
"Comfort is merely a state of one's mind. Now, onto the topic of your daughter. What exactly do you intend to do with her now?"
Frowning, Tyrion scratched at the back of his head. "Let me ask you this first. The white cloak who found her. Was it my brother, Jamie?"
"Aye, it was." The answer was expected. But still devastating to hear. Jamie was the one person he thought he could trust in his family. And now, now his brother had sent Tyrion's daughter to the North without even bothering to let him know that she existed in the first place. "But before you let your anger get the better of you, it was clear that your brother was just as surprised to learn of her existence as you now are. And him sending her with me was not done to keep her from you. But rather to protect her."
"To protect her?" Tyrion asked. "What in the Seven hells are you talking about?"
"Tell me, Tyrion, should your father or sister learn of your daughter's existence. A daughter that is trueborn regardless of what people say, what do you think would happen to her? Had Anna been born a boy, she would've technically been the direct heir to Casterly Rock. But even with her being born a girl, she still holds significant value."
The question made Tyrion pause and think. And none of the thoughts that came to him were pleasant. When Tyrion made no move to speak, the sorcerer pressed on. "You wish to take her from here and raise her as your own, do you not? That will cause more than a few issues. One of which will be you explaining to your daughter why you stood by and watched, and later participated, in the gang raping of her mother."
The insinuation and reminder of his whore of a first wife made Tyrion clench his fist. "Her mother was a whore, nothing more. And I–I fell for her tricks. But my father showed me what she was after he revealed her plot. Offered her a silver stag for each guard she fucked. Then when I fucked her, he gave her a single gold dragon cause a Lannister man was worth more. When she was done, she had so much silver that it was pouring from her hands like water."
"And you believe your father to be the epitome of truthfulness when it comes to matters regarding yourself?"
Tyrion leveled a glare at the sorcerer. Of course he hadn't believed his father when he'd informed him of Tysha's true nature. But Jamie confirmed the tale to be true. "Of course not. But Jamie, he told me that she was a whore and that the whole farce had been set up so that I could become a man."
"And you believe that your brother is incapable of lying to you? Even if your father ordered him to?"
That…brought Tyrion up short. Jamie was always kind to him while they were growing up. But his brother was also desperate for his father's approval, even if he would deny it. If his father ordered Jamie to lie… Gods, could it be true? Had he…Had he been tricked by his father and brother?
"I spent quite a bit of time looking in on Anna's past while I was in King's Landing after your brother left her with me," the sorcerer continued, oblivious or not caring of Tyrion's internal struggle. "Her mother died less than a year past from a sickness. The moment she died, men raided the small home she had managed to purchase, and Anna, sweet and cute girl she is, was sold off to an underground slave market that was starting to take hold. It took me some time to locate the ones who sold her, but I eventually managed to catch one of them. After some questioning, he informed me that the reason why they raided the house was because there was a tale that Tysha had a bag of silver and a gold dragon hidden in her house somewhere despite living in near squaller. And the rumors proved true. The man confessed that he and his accomplices found a bag full of silver stags and a single gold dragon hidden beneath one of her floorboards. It had been there for so long that a thick layer of dust had formed on the bag."
Tyrion felt his world crumbling around him. Tysha…She never spent a single coin that'd been thrown on her soiled body. She raised their daughter without him even knowing. His daughter had been sold into slavery, even if only for a brief time. His father had destroyed the one good thing that'd happened to him. And his brother had lied about it to cover for his father. Questions of the past and what had truly happened could wait. Right now he needed to focus on his daughter and keeping her safe. Because, as loath as he was to admit it, right now her anonymity was her best protection from his family and from those would seek to use her against his family.
"I–I want to leave her here in Winterfell…for now." Tyrion ground out, his mind still a mess as he tried to sort out his upturned life. "You'll…You'll treat her well? Like she was one of your own?"
The sorcerer gave a slight nod. "As long as she is here, I will see to her upbringing as a favor to you. She will have to work to earn her keep but given her mind and work ethic, that will not be a problem. Once you are ready to be reunited with her, I will make sure she arrives to you without incident."
Tyrion wanted to curse whichever god had led him to this situation. Hells, he might as well curse them all. Shaking his head, Tyrion got to his feet and made to leave the sorcerer alone so that he could gather his thoughts. Coming to the door, which unlatched itself as he approached, he turned back towards the sorcerer and did something he rarely did. He bowed to the man.
"Thank you, Lord Nox. A Lannister always repays his debts… Though, I cannot fathom just how I'm going to repay this one…" As he moved out into the hall and started making his way down the tower, he couldn't stop himself from muttering, "Fuck, I need a drink and a strong one at that… Probably more than one."