A Vow Without Honor

The Future

(AVWH opening credits created by yours truly)

Tyrion

Drink. That was what they needed. To drink long and hard and not cease that particular activity until the sun threatened to break over the horizon, but Tyrion learned rather quickly that Myra Stark was not so accustomed to long bouts with wine. Two cups in and she was already prone to giggling excessively.

Then again, she might have snuck some when he wasn't paying attention. He couldn't blame her in the slightest. What she spoke before the court would not have been easy for anyone, but she had the added difficulty of her stubborn honor and loyalty so well suited to her household. It would make for quite the scandal in the coming days, aside from, well...everything else she and Jaime were involved in.

Over time, Tyrion subtly moved the goblet away from Myra, until it was well out of her reach. He had wanted to subdue her nerves, not leave her blacked out on the floor for when Jaime returned.

Whenever that was. His brother was certainly taking his time.

He couldn't say anything terrible had happened, however. The castle was still standing after all.

That was what everyone underestimated about Jaime, even himself. They mistook his impassive approach to everything as a lack of passion entirely. But his brother had been willing to tear the countryside apart to save him from certain death, he'd defied his father and his king to save Myra at the risk of his own life, and he'd killed a king to save those he hardly knew. No, the problem wasn't that Jaime did not care. The problem was he cared far too much, and for that, he tried very hard to pretend he was quite the opposite. After all, it was considered a weakness in the Lannister household, to Cersei in particular, but Myra had thrown those flood gates wide open. He was both curious and terrified to see the results.

"It was so easy,' Myra said suddenly. There was still a smile on her face, but it had grown sad. "Saying all those things, denouncing my family. There used to be a time where I couldn't fathom the idea."

Tyrion sighed. He was no good at this.

"You should be grateful that it was," he said, fingers tapping against his goblet. He felt altogether too sober, but didn't want to encourage his good-sister to drink more. "That will hardly be the last time you'll need it. I can't imagine when you won't, honestly."

"When I'm old and gray and no longer care, perhaps."

He snorted. "Perhaps you should tell that to Lady Olenna. She's older than every one of us and plays the game twice as hard."

He often wondered if he'd make it to that age. It looked like a miserable journey. Perhaps he ought to be grateful to pass while most of his body functioned properly, at least by his standards.

"As long as you remember what's important to you and your family, you can lie all you want. None of it really matters in the end."

Myra reached for her goblet then, fully standing in order to do so. "If it doesn't matter, then why do so many people die for it?"

Tyrion was saved from having to answer her impossible question by the sudden arrival of Jaime. He didn't say anything as he approached the small table, prompting Myra to sit back down rather than rush to greet him. He grabbed the unused goblet they had left out for him, filled it to the brim with wine, and proceeded to down the entire thing before he looked remotely ready for conversation.

"I see the discussion with Father went well," Tyrion ventured to say, watching Jaime fill all three of their goblets to the top before he collapsed in his own chair. "Might I ask what it entailed?"