Tyrions Epilogue

This is a work of fiction. Most characters in this story are the work of George R. R. Martin in his amazing Song of Ice and Fire Series also known as Game of Thrones from the tv series. This fan fiction combines parts from the books and the tv show since they are so wildly different. If you haven't watched the show and don't want spoilers, leave now!

Please enjoy!

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"If that is the last of the official business, I call for this meeting to be adjourned," Tyrion Lannister called from the head of the small council table. Another meeting had gone smoothly and though it was close to two years since the great war with the white walkers and the crowning of Bran the Broken as king of the South, Tyrion still had not gotten used to a small council meeting without any talk of treasons, murders, or incest.

"Before we all depart..." King Bran spoke from his chair at the far side of the table. "I've had a bird from my sister Arya. As you know after I was crowned, she journeyed East bringing the good will of the crown and going in search of trade negotiations and agreements of peace. She has made it all the way to the Sunrise Isles."

There was a murmur of shock from the council members at the great distance Arya had traveled.

Grand Maester Olivar spoke up, "Quite a long journey for the lady, Your Grace."

"Yes," agreed King Bran. "She gives word that she made an agreement with the Emperor of the Sunrise Isles, Magnus Son of Aungnus, for free trade and eternal peace so long as the agreement is sealed with a high marriage."

Nods of agreement came from around the table. Tyrion nodded along, familiar with the custom of marriage to seal deals among countries and between families. He thought of his own long past marriage to Sansa Stark-now Queen in the North. King Bran and the High Septon had graciously and speedily officially annulled the marriage since it had never been consummated and so much had happened to both Tyrion and Sansa since the forced ceremony.

"Is Lady Arya prepared to marry?" Tyrion asked.

"I apologize, I'd neglected to share all the information," Bran answered. "The Emperor has only daughters, it is a man that they seek for a match. The eldest daughter is already betrothed and needs stay in the Sunrise Isles to reign after her father. But Arya's letter says she is starting on her way back with the second daughter of Emperor Magnus, the Princess Linnea. The letter is dated nearly three months ago. I would estimate that they will be returning to King's Landing before the year is through."

"Do you have a match in mind, Your Grace?" Lord Bronn of the Blackwater and Highgarden, the Master of Coin asked.

"Many thoughts came to mind," answered Bran. "As you all know, I myself can father no children and condemning the woman to childless life would be considered ill will. I have no living brothers who are free to marry. And there are very few highborn men of marriage age who remain unwed. Arya mentions in her letter that a member of the small council would be an acceptable match."

Tyrion looked around the table at the councilors around him. Maester Olivar and Lord Commander Tarth were both sworn to lives of celibacy. Ser Whitefish and Lord Bronn were married leaving only Lord Johnthany Barnworth who had celebrated his 90th name day the month before.

"It would seem our small council is lacking in eligible suitors as well, Your Grace," said Tyrion from the head of the table.

All eyes were on him as he finished his declaration. Not for a moment had he considered the idea of himself as a suitor for this Princess from the East.

"Your Grace...." he started.

Bran held up a gloved hand, "Tyrion, I will not command it. You are free to make the choice for yourself, however I do ask that you give it true consideration. You are Lord of Casterly Rock and thus far leave no issue to inherit."

"Marrying a princess to a dwarf, I'm not sure that would send the kindest feelings to the Emperor," Tryrion contested.

"Yet this dwarf is the Hand of the King and head of the richest family in Westeros," offered Lord Bronn. "It should not be seen as a slight, but a very high honor."

Bronn gave his speech with a straight face, but Tyrion sensed the amusement in his eyes.

"As I have said, I ask you to consider it. We still have four months to prepare for their arrival and we can discuss it at our next meeting."

With that Bran gestured to Ser Podrick Payne to wheel him out of the chamber. He was followed by the other members of the council leaving only Tyrion to sit and think.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, Tyrion made his way from the newly rebuilt Tower of the Hand to the office of the Master of Coin-his old friend Bronn. Over the years of war Bronn had changed allegiances more times than Tyrion could count, but King Bran had seen fit to name him Master of Coin anyway and Tyrion trusted the Raven King.

Tyrion waddled in to find Bronn dozing with his feet on his desk. Bronn would never be one to submit to rules and expectations.

Tyrion gave Bronn's boots and shove throwing him off balance and he crashed to the floor. He pulled his sword from the hilt as he got up, ready to kill the man that had woken him, but he laughed and rescheathed his blade when he saw the dwarf.

"Why if it isn't the newly promised Hand of the King."

"No promises have been made yet," reminded Tyrion rolling his eyes.

"You're not really considering saying no?" Bronn balked.

"And what reason have I to say yes? I've been married twice before and you know exactly how well those turned out."

"Aye, but those were under the watchful eye of your late father. He's not here to guard your cock anymore," Bronn laughed and Tyrion felt the ever present stab of pain that occured whenever his first wife was mentioned.

"What if she can't bear to look at me?" Tyrion countered.

"You're not half so monstrous looking at you think you are. Queen Sansa only hated you because of your family. Besides, the whores in this city all know that where it matters you're just as big a man as any knight."

Tyrion clenched his jaw tight. He had been a notorious visitor of brothels for most of his life. It was said that he bedded half of King's Landing under the reign of King Robert Barratheon and the King had bedded the other half.

"What if I can't give her child?" Tyrion tried another tactic. "I've bedded hundreds of whores as you so love to remind me, yet I haven't a single bastard running around Flea's Bottom."

"None that you know of," countered Bronn with a shrug.

Tyrion leaned on Bronn's desk and ground his knuckles into the polished wood. Bronn poured him a cup of Dornish Red and held it out to him.

He raised his own glass, "May your marriage be as happy and fruitful and as mine own."

Tyrion did have to laugh at that. Bronn had been married to the slow witted Lollys Stokeworth for near five years and had given her four children to add to the bastard she carried into their marriage.

"And if she isn't a pretty little princess, you can always go back to whoring." Tyrion emptied his glass and agreed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Birds from Arya Stark began to come regularly as she and the company from the Sunrise Isles got closer and closer to Westeros. King's Landing began to prepare for the largest celebration since the end of War of the Five Kings and the great burning. King Bran decreed that the time of mourning was over and the wedding of Westeros and the Sunrise Isles would be the perfect occasion to lift the city spirits.

The rebuilding efforts in King's Landing tripled in speed to secure accommodations for all those expected to flock to the city. It was the first time in recorded history that people from the Summer Isles would be visiting Westeros and everyone wanted a peek at them.

Rumors flew about the strange and unique customs of the people of the Far East, but Tryion assumed they were much the same as people everywhere else.

Tyrion's dread of the arrival of the visitors grew each day. He had agreed to the marriage, but the memories of his marriage experiences continued to plague him. He thought of his first wife Tysha; had she been the only woman who would ever really love him? And had she? Jamie had said Tywin had lied, but now there were no survivors to confirm that story. And Sansa, she had been forced to marry the uncle of her tormentor, the brother of her capturer. She had hated the sight of him. He had wanted her against his own wishes. Her young body had tempted him, but her feelings toward him had never softened.

Neither of those women were anything, however, compared to Shae. Shae the whore. Shae his love. He had thought to keep her close his whole life, but she had betrayed him. She called him a murderer and taunted him in front of the entire court. Then she had bedded his own father. Tyrion's hands still twitched when he remembered tightening the gold chain around her neck until her face was blue and her breathing stopped.

All Tyrion knew of romantic love was betrayal and disgust.

But he steeled himself to his fate. He was the Lord of Casterly Rock. The last great Lannister and he did like the idea of his own son inheriting some day. Many great families were brought together through arranged marriages and maybe they didn't beget romance and passion, but they brought forth children all the same.

Tryion stood at the window in his room at the Tower of the Hand and heard a knock at the door.

"Enter," he called out.

His squire, Wenderly Lannister, a distant cousin, entered followed by Bronn.

"My Lord, another Raven came from Arya Stark," he held of a rolled parchment to Tyrion.

"For me?" questioned Tyrion. "These are usually for the king."

"Aye, but that one's for you," Bronn interjected. "And it's not from Arya Stark. A whole flock of ravens just came in from Pentos. It would seem the host is on it's way across the narrow sea already."

Tyrion unrolled the parchment and saw the looping scroll of a feminine hand.

My Lord Tyrion,

Please forgive my forwardness in my insistence to write to you myself. Ever since Lady Arya received your acceptance of our marriage arrangement, I have been anxious to communicate with you. I am honored to be coming to a new land as an ambassador for my people and I am happy to join you as your wife, and I hope someday your friend.

Tales of your successes have made their way across our world and all the way to the shores of the Sunrise Isles. Your wisdom and humility have been told to me by all who are told that we are to be wed.

I count down the sunrises until we will meet in person and I pray to the Gods of the Isles and to the Seven of Westeros that I may be a good wife to you.

~Linnea, Daughter of Magnus: Emperor of the Sunrise Isles

Tyrion looked up at Wenderly and Bronn. "Wenderly, you may go." The young squire sulked out. "How did you know this wasn't from Arya?"

"Well I read it, of course," Bronn answered pouring himself a cup of wine.

"Of course you did. You've never been able to keep your hands off other people's things."

"I suppose that's a barb about me fucking Ser Wymar's wife. Well I haven't changed my stripes as some have."

Suddenly the tables were turned and Tyrio knew Bronn was talking about him. Tyrion's character had changed. The whoring drunk that had existed before the death of Robert Baratheon was no more. Tyrion had been loyal to Shae for the entire two years that they had been together and he had been with no other woman since. He had tried one night in Valyria, on the way to find Queen Danearys, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Now the idea of allowing another woman to see his bare dwarfed body and fill his head with lies of his grandeur turned his stomach.

"It true you haven't been with a woman since before your trial?" Bronn asked.

Tyrion poured himself a glass and nodded slowly.

"Oi, don't you think you might be out of practice? We could make our way down to the Red Quarter. I'll bet there will be some wench down there that hasn't heard the tales of the Lannister Imp yet."

"Maybe I should wait...give my maidenhead to my intended."

That made Bronn throw his head back in laughter and they both emptied their glasses.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tyrion dressed with special care the morning that the fleet of ships was supposed to arrive in King's Landing. The horns rang out each time the ships passed another lookout point and got closer. Tyrion pinned his Hand of the King badge to his crimson doublet and pulled a cloth of gold cape over his shoulder held with a gold lion with ruby eyes. He descended the tower and met King Bran, Lord Commander Brienne, Bronn, the rest of the Small Council and the servers who were off to the dock to meet the ships.

As they approached the water, Tryion saw the sails of the ships coming from the East. The lead ship had a sale of stoney blue with the giant direwolf sigil in silver. Arya Stark was assuredly on board. The second ship carried the Princess Linnea and her handmaidens. The sail was a sapphire blue with a bright yellow horse; as it got closer Tyrion saw the intricate paint work in the body of the sigil.

Arya's ship came to dock and the gangplank was placed. Arya jaunted down the plank and ran to her brother. She gave a slight bow before hugging him in his chair.

"Welcome home, Arya," he smiled to her. Arya gestured to some of the men who had followed her off the ship-dignitaries from the Sunrise Isles and other countries they had passed through on their journey back. Tyrion heard their names said but could not remember a single one. His eyes were on the second ship now anchoring and having it's gangplank placed.

People started to pour off of the second ship. Men carrying large, brightly painted chests. Some were placed in front of King Bran but many were placed in front of Tyrion as his intended's dowry. Finally Tyrion glimpsed a female face. Six handmaidens made their way down the gangplank. Each one wore a dress of the same sapphire blue as the sails. The detailed painting of the chests was mimicked in embroidery work on bodices and at the hems of their gowns. Their hair was parted into two sections and braided.

Finally, the Princess herself appeared at the edge of the ship. Her dress was the golden color of the horse of her house sigil and it glimmered in the sun. She wore a busiter of the sapphire blue encrusted with what looked like real sapphires. Her hair shone a bright blonde. It was lighter than the blonde of his own sister and brother's hair, but not as close to white as the late Daenerys Targaryen's hair. Linnea's hair was braided into a think crown that ran all the way around her head and into her hair were woven delicate, pink flowers. But to Tyrion's great disappointment, Linnea's face was not visible. A band of fine gold ran around her head below her braid crown and from the band hung a fine, Astaporian silk veil of sapphire blue.

Tyrion's disappointment must have shown on his face because Arya Stark who stood next to him whispered down to him, "I'm sorry My Lord, it is a custom of the Sunrise Isles that a woman veils her face from all men from the time she is betrothed until her wedding day."

"No matter," muttered Tyrion as he walked forward to greet his wife-to-be. He was relived to she that although taller than him, she was not as tall as his last wife Sansa who even as a fourteen year old had towered over a foot and a half taller than him.

Arya approached with him and made the formal introductions.

"Your highness, may I present Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King. My Lord, this is Princess Linnea, Daughter of Magnus, Emperor of the Sunrise Isles."

"My lady," Tyrion gave a slight bow and began to reach out his hand to his fiance when she dropped her knees in front of him. She bowed her head low and spoke.

"My Lord, Tyrion. Thank you for your gracious offer of marriage and the honor of standing beside you for the rest of my days. May the sun never set on our happiness." She spoke in a low, even voice with a thick accent Tyrion had never heard before, but she spoke well. She had obviously been well trained in the Common Tongue of Westeros.

Tyrion looked down in a bit of shock. His soon to be wife knelt before him on the sandy wooden landing of the dock. Tyrion looked up at Arya. She nodded to him to do something.

Tyrion offered his hand to the Princess and helped her to her feet.

"The honor is all mine, Your Highness. I welcome you to Westeros and to King's Landing."

He looked up to her veiled face and could make out her blurry features through the thin cloth. The veil quivered in the wind off the water and he could see her smile. "Please allow me to escort you back to the keep, Your Highness."

Linnea took his hand and joined the party heading back to the palace.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night a great feast was held in the courtyard of the palace. King Bran and his sister sat in the center of the head table. Her stories even got him to smile a time or two. Bran was such a serious king.

Bards from both Westeros and those that had joined the Princess on her trip from the Sunrise Isles wandered through the courtyard playing their music. The songs of the Isles were in their own language but they were lively and easy to dance to.

Tyrion sat at King's right hand with his wife-to-be beside him. They had not spoken a great deal except to ask each other questions on the customs of their respective countries. Linnea explained her veil to him and begged his forgiveness for not allowing him to see her yet.

"No apology is necessary, my Lady."

"Many stories of the 'Dwarf of Lannister' are told throughout the East," she explained slowly.

"Oh? And what do they say?"

"The accounts vary greatly. Some say that he is monstrously ugly and deformed." Tyrion cleared his throat, his stomach threatening to empty the small amount of food he hand been able to eat. "But many insist that he is near as handsome as his late brother, with a distinguishing scar that runs across his face."

"Dare I ask what you think, now that you see me?"

Linnea turned to look at him. He wondered how well she could see through the blue veil over her eyes.

"I see a man who is battleworn but not at all a monster."

She said it with such a kind voice that Tyrion almost believed her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wedding of Tyrion Lannister to Pricess Linnea of the Sunrise Isles was less than a fortnight from the day that the visitors arrived in King's Landing. Tyrion sat in many peace negotiation meetings and saw to the everyday affairs of state and didn't see his intended a great deal more than a hour and a half a day when they dined together each evening. Linnea was a sweet girl of two and twenty who laughed easily. She spoke highly of her home and explained the name Sunrise Isles was always funny to her because with the time of year, sometimes there was no sunrise. In the dead of summer the sun never set and in the coldest winters the sun never rose. She asked endless questions about the dragons of old and new. There had never been a dragon on the Sunrise Isles, only trolls.

They talked of happy topics but little of anything deeper. Tyrion wasn't sure if it was because she didn't care or was too polite to ask.

The day before the wedding Tyrion walked through the newly built Sept overseeing the last of the wedding preparations. The Sept of Baelor which had stood for centuries was destroyed in the rage of Daenerys Targaryen but Tyrion preferred the new sept. The shrines to the seven were kinder, the stone not so cold and dark. Leaving the building he saw the summer pole that was being erected for the wedding-a Sunrise Isles tradition that his betrothed had requested. After their Westrosi ceremony, they could come be married at the Midsommer Pole as well and offer themselves to Linnea's Gods.