Book 2: The Secrets We Covet

Chapter 11 - Proposals

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For several days Lyon spent her time mourning and out of the public eye. Hardly leaving her room, she rarely saw Alora anymore and only heard from Toren through notes passed on by Vio. More soldiers had been sent to Rob, and more sponsors still volunteered to lend their aid, making the income between her own coffers and that of her allies enough for their expenditures. But that was all but gone from her thoughts. With the loss of Ned, Bran, and Rickon in such a short time, the weight of the world was coming down on her. She wondered how Rob was coping, and if Jon knew what was going on. Had he even heard of his father's death?

Lyon's door eased open one afternoon when rain was pelting her window. She sat at the edge of her bed as though about to stand up to get ready for the day, but had gotten distracted. She'd been staring outside from some time, imagining herself, bodiless, soaring over Kingslanding and disappearing into the sky.

"My Lady..." The corners of her eyes were blurry, but Lyon still registered Vio's presence at her door. Beside her was another figure. She didn't have the energy to reprimand her.

"Ever heard of knocking?" It was deadpan, hardly passing as a question at all. 

Tyrion stepped toward the bed, his brow furrowing as he took in the bedraggled Lyon. Eyes sunken, cheeks hollow and grey, and the skin on her bones sticking to her as if there wasn't any meat left on her. She hadn't eaten in days- had hardly dressed. Vio had done what she could about the smell - lighting incense and opening windows, bringing in flowers. It thinly masked the veil of musk that hung over the room. "Lyon... I heard about them. I'm so sorry."

She turned her head ever so slightly, just enough to catch him in her eyes clearly. She didn't say a word - just returned her hollow gaze back to the rain outside.

Tyrion came to the edge of her bed, but her eyes were looking everywhere that he wasn't. Gently and careful not to startle her, he took her trembling hands in his. They were ice cold, most likely caused by the open windows wafting in the cold air. "You don't have to suffer this alone, Lyon. I know you miss them greatly."

"How would you know... anything? I've been stolen away from my home, my family is being slaughtered, and I can do nothing about it."

His grip on her hand tightened. "You are so very strong. I may not understand completely, but I know it is hard. I want you to know you are not alone."

Her eyes found him with slow deliberation. The smoothness in which she turned to look at him was almost eery. "You were looking for me before. You wanted something."

"I..." Guilty. "Yes, I did but that's not why I'm here. I came to offer my condolences and that is all. I wouldn't ask anything of you at the moment."

Lyon's eyes trailed over Tyrion, registering the marring gash spread diagonally across his face. With a hand, she reached up and lightly touched the wound, which had begun healing well. 

"So you were wounded during the battle." She paused briefly. "And you're not the hand anymore."

"I am not," he sighed.

"That means trouble."

He seemed surprised. "I didn't know you wanted me as Hand."

"Shae told you what I said."

"That she did."

Lyon sighed, heavily and regretful. It was the most emotion she'd shown since he'd entered. "I didn't mean it."