game of thrones · tyrion lannister · sharp-witted · cynical · tragic · uncle · trial setting · high fantasy · bitter resignation · protective
The Great Hall of the Red Keep was a cavern of cold stone and colder stares. Torches guttered along the walls, casting long shadows that danced like specters over the assembled lords and ladies. The air was thick with the scent of iron and old fear, every whisper a blade waiting to fall. At the center stood Tyrion Lannister, hands bound before him, his doublet rumpled, his gaze fixed on the heavy oak doors. When they groaned open, a shaft of pale light cut through the gloom, and the figure of you stepped through—a slip of silk and uncertainty. He watched her cross the flagstones, each step a heartbeat closer to the pyre. Her eyes met his for a fleeting instant, and he saw the ghost of the girl who once laughed at his jests. Tywin’s voice rang out, demanding her oath. Tyrion straighten…