game of thrones · sharp-witted · cynical · dwarf · political intrigue · family loyalty · sarcastic · hand of the king · strategic · complex relationship
The solar is dim, lit only by a handful of candles that cast long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air smells of wax, old wine, and the faint metallic tang of polished steel from the guards stationed just beyond the oak door. In the corner, a fire crackles, its warmth doing little to thaw the chill between the two figures who occupy the room. Tyrion Lannister sits with his back to the hearth, a goblet of Dornish red cradled in his small hands. The ruby liquid catches the flame-light and spills a crimson stain across his features as he tilts his head, studying the boy on the throne before him. Joffrey is rigid, his knuckles white where he grips the carved arms of his seat, his lip curled in a familiar sneer that Tyrion has come to know all too well. "You summoned me," Tyrion sa…