AN: I've been conflicted when writing this, since I've only recently stumbled into the GoTverse and I'm learning of more and more things everyday, and I have to say a lot of the things bother me, but I can't simply ignore them. I wish I could, but I need to explain them away first and it just makes me feel like I'm blathering on and on.

I greatly treasure your reviews, they are like the garlic butter to my toast, and dear lord, I'm eating it all up. Thank you :D

I was bitter that he was unaware of my efforts to saving his life, even if this sentiment was at odds with my reticence towards his attentions. The following days were rather dull in comparison, and I found I preferred the cacophony of danger to the threatening silence we were surrounded in. I had learned of his whore, a lady named Shae, and some personal investigation had uncovered of his dealings with the ladies in the castles. Of course I am possessive, it is the very reason I was in this mess to begin with.

I was horrified to learn of the fate of one his previous favourites, a red-haired wench-turned-madam by the name of Roz, and her story further intensified my resolve to bring down the Child King. I had no care for who sat on the Iron Throne ultimately, but I had stong reservations for those in power who wielded it abusively. And the impending nuptials of the Stark child to my warden was an issue that did not sit well with me, on either front. I felt overwhelmed, and knew I had my work cut out for me.

One evening, not 4 days since the last failed attempt on his life, Ser Tyrion walked in, seemingly ruffled and out of sorts while I brooded about, sulking over the fact that he would never know of my devotion. But apparently someone else was even more bitter than I, over the fact that he had survived.

"Good evening, milord. You look as though someone had thought to stuff your boots with goat dung before you wore them. What ails your mind?"

He dismissed my comment with a distraced wave of his hand, then turned to face me. "Apparently, the fact that I am both alive and well is a somewhat surprising matter to the king. Which makes me wonder if another attempt on my life will be made. And these are issues I would much rather not occupy my mind with at the present moment." I look away, fidgeting nervously. "Have you any idea on such matters?"

"No, Ser," I stammer out lamely. "I have seen nothing untoward as of late." I punctuate this sentiment by looking away and refusing to meet his eye.

"Ah, well, it seems my luck has indeed returned then." he smiles knowingly, and my heart aches. "Come, let us play a game. A drinking game." And I shake my head vigourously, trying to dissuade him from this train of thought. I cannot afford to play, nor can I afford to drink; any shields I have at any time are demolished when any wines touch my tongue and I am inebriated by the lightest of libations.

A tall man strides into the quarters and finds his seat easily, with an air of familiarity. It disconcerts me greatly to see a man so tall, I am so taken with my dwarf. "Well hello then, I did not expect to find you entertaining when you called for me. Shall I go then?" this man smiles easily, and I find my earlier apprehension melting away. I unwittingly return the smile and Tyrion smirks in that frustating way of his when he finds something amusing.

"I see you have managed to break through the icy barrier of this one much faster than I did then, Bronn?"

"A woman has proved immune to your charms, Tyrion? Preposterous!" this Bronn looks at me scrutinisingly. This of course, makes me squirm, and I move to leave the room. "No, girl, do not dream of leaving. Sit, drink, and be merry!" he chuckled. I blushed scarlet and moved to bring forth the pitcher of wine I had prepared for today, hoping to curry some favour or at least some cheer from my Maester. I poured the wine, hoping the spiced apples would be to their liking, and tried to back away. Bronn tried to guide me into his lap and a look of abject terror struck my face before Tyrion dove in between us and guided me to another seat, his mouth a grim line of displeasure. I ought to give him my thanks later. Excepting that he placed a goblet in front of me, and moved my hand to pour it. Oh, this man would be getting none of my thanks now.

"Well then, the rules of the game are thus; we each take a drink then we ask of the other a question. If one chooses not to answer, they must take another, drink or question is their own choice." he raises his glass as he takes his seat, and I am filled with morbid dread. This will not end well for me. And still I drink. Seven Hells.

"Where are you from, girl." Tyrion starts, predictably. I sigh, and smirk. To a Lannister, of course I would appear exotic. "From right here, Ser. Born and raised right here in King's Landing." Of course, I was also of exotic blood, but no one needed to know of my lineage here, did they?

"What's yer story then, girl?" Bronn boomed, startling us both.

"I do not believe that is how the game is played, ser." I stifled a giggle. "By that token, what is your story, ser?" I look over at Tyrion, who is glancing away with unease. "No, I believe I shall aim my question at you, milord. Your marriage to Lady Stark, is it one of love or of convenience?"

His face dropped all emotion at this. He took a drink from his goblet and wiped his mouth, his lips a grim line of displeasure."There is no love lost between us Lannisters and the Starks, and there is nothing convenient about this union either."

Bronn broke the silence once more, and ordered us to take another drink, and from there the night has become a blurry haze. At some point during the evening, I suppose I lost my wits and inhibitions, and climbed into his lap and professed my feelings for him, because the next morning I am awoken in his bed, fully clothed, but still. I am not in my own sleeping quarters, away from him and all the feelings he awakens, oh no, I am right in the lion's den.

I am startled, to say the least and I scuttle to the end of the bed, before I promptly fall off the edge of the bed, and he rouses from his slumber, eyes awash with sleep, but his mind has awoken fully, it seems. And much to my displeasure, he was aware of our positions in sleep, and I could not simply pretend to not have held onto him in sleep. No, there was no escaping the reality of it all.

"I trust you have rested well?" he asks cockily, and I am unable to take it any longer. So I run.

Guys, if you're reading this, and it made you pause, pleeease drop me a few words, even if they are anon. I need feedback like Pooh needs honey

AN 2: I am contemplating adding a naughtier scene in the next chapter, but I feel like it might be too soon...thoughts, anybody?