A Vow Without Honor

The Fall

Tyrion

The quiet of the library was a blessed relief from the chaos of the king's feast. Not that he did not enjoy a good party, but every now and again he liked the company of intelligence and understanding more, and there was none to be found in the Great Hall of Winterfell.

He had not meant to spend much time in the library; he only wished to replace the books the Starks had provided in his room - a kind gesture on their part but woefully misinformed - but now he found himself tucked into a small chair in the corner, a candle on the table to his left and a dusty text on Artos the Implacable on his lap. The wineskin he had brought along had run dry long ago, but even that had not been enough to convince him to retire. Many would find that surprising, save for Jaime. Only his older brother knew how he truly functioned; only his older brother cared to know.

The book had begun to tell him of the Battle of Long Lake when the sound of an opening door caught his attention.

Tyrion glanced up to see a dark figure entering the room, and though the candlelight barely lit their features, eh could tell it was a woman, and a rather relived one at that. she did not seem to notice him. He found it a little odd, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. After all, people had been ignoring him all his life. What was one more person among the many?

"Some might call it strange, seeking the company of books rather than man, especially for someone such as yourself."

The woman jumped, clutching one hand to her chest. "Lord Tyrion...I didn't realize anyone would be up here, especially at this hour."

Gods knew that of all the possible visitors, Myra Stark was one of the better ones. Of course, anyone Tyrion had deemed a worse than death companion wouldn't think to step near a book, much less the library.

"Tell me, do you Northerners often keep a fire burning alone in a room full of paper?"

Even in the darkness, he could make out her sheepish features. "Only when Maester Luwin knows I'm coming."

He nodded as she took a seat across from him. "You are a frequenter then?"

"I must have read most of these twice over," she replied with a sigh. Her eyes wandered the shelves adoringly before pausing on him. "The Tales of Artos Stark, as written by his ailing Maester. I find the embellishment a little much, but once you break past the overused vocabulary, it's quite insightful."

Tyrion smiled. Oh yes, he and this Stark were going to get on just fine.

Myra was a pretty girl, perhaps not the most beautiful, but any lord with half a brain would count his blessings to have her on his arm. Her gray eyes were wide and curious, her face heart-shaped and friendly, and she had all the curves a woman could ask for, plus a little more for the sake of men. It was a wonder she had not been married off already, but Tyrion supposed Eddard had a reason for wanting his family close to him for longer than needed.

"As for the company," she continued, unaware of his scrutiny, "sometimes I enjoy being surrounded by things that cannot talk back."

He knew that feeling all too well.

"And when the books start to talk back?" he asked, shutting his own.

The girl chuckled. "Then I've had too much to drink."

Clearly I've not had enough.

It did feel unusual, still being at least partially sober, especially given the circumstances. Then again, the night was still young and there was plenty of wine to be found, no doubt because they had heard of his reputation to drink the lands dry. Or maybe that was Robert. Between the two of them, every inn within a thousand leagues was only serving water now.