597Random insomnia update! MWAHAHAHAHA!
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If Tyrion Lannister were to be honest with himself, he would have left Robert's King's Road bound convoy out of convenience at the moment for more...carnal entertainment when his dear sister's wheel house broke yet another wheel upon entry of Wintertown, a brief half day from Winterfell. Unfortunately this would be the third time this week they had such a break down. That is to say if he were not sober enough to recollect correctly that it had been the second time on this day that Cersei demanded they stead their horses on her whim; and let the servants fix the cart while she brooded and Robert fucked whores other than herself.
It mattered not to the painstakingly alienated member of the house Lannister; he would thus be forced to be moved on to more pleasurable activities when entering the local tavern, then paused in confusion upon what he saw.
Rather than the rough hewn hovel the building was on the outside... Well the inside was something Kings Landing could only hope to be.
The flooring was polished oak boards, the walls solid brickwork covered in whitewashed plaster. All of which was in turn covered in banners and portraits celebrating past victories and leaders of the North.
Blinking lightly, Tyrion waddled up to the bar and tossed a silver stag out after climbing up the stool chair while asking, "Pardon my lack of candor but I hear that you have a witch running about the North. How much truth lays about there?"
The man behind the bar snatched the coin up before it skipped twice and shot Tyrion a look of suspicion. They stared at each other for a time when the barman eventually shrugged and nodded.
"Aye, you'd be look'in for the Lady Peverell. 'Fore you ask, she ain't no woods witch, or any other farce of magician. The Red Mage, she looks after Lord Stark's people. Word of warning, do not cross her, she may come off as a bit daft but don't let that fool ya. She wants ya to not consider her a threat, but after what she's done to Winterfell? To Wintertown? She's powerful, and has the favor of the Warden of the North. They say she tutors milord's children in the old ways and she's..."
Tyrion admitted to honest curiosity when he leaned forward while quietly muttering out, "And she is what?"
The barkeep turned away then laughed as he began filling a flagon of beer, "She's every father's worst nightmare. Beautiful, willful, intelligent, and considers overwhelming violence to be the first action taken when talk'n doesn't work."
Dropping the mug of beer before Tyrion, the barkeep shrugged and turned away from him while simply stating, "She's a proper Northern lass, that Lady Peverell."
Hmm...Perhaps avoiding the whore house had been in his best interest after all, primarily because he was now damn curious about this witch.
Nodding slowly he gulped down his beer, which surprisingly enough wasn't a bad bitter, and hopped off the stool when finished as he threw a few coppers on the bar while flatly stating, "Thanks for your time."
Rejoining his thoroughly confused older brother, which amused Tyrion quite a bit, his thinking obviously being 'There are whores, you are not hiring whores, why are you not fucking whores?' Tyrion rode on to Winterfell.
When the ancient castle came into view he paused as he took in the towering outer white walls, it's even higher inner walls, the looming towers standing behind them bristling with scorpions, and the massive main keep that was the house of the Warden of the North.
The road was lined with hundreds of armed Northerners standing at attention as the royal procession passed them, and as they moved through to the castle... No, Bastion Tyrion couldn't help but think that perhaps Robert should have been paying more attention to his old foster brother's machinations.
Upon entering the courtyard they entered a clean cobblestoned courtyard where the Family Stark waited patiently for Robert's arrival.
Glancing about Tyrion couldn't help but boggle at the massive braziers with burning blue flames lining the walls, the massive banners of actually running wolves, or the fact that he felt a sense of calm he'd never felt before emanating from the very ground and walls.
The regular introductions went and passed, it wasn't until they reached Lord Stark's girls that Tyrion paused.
The young woman was gorgeous. Her Dornish red wine hair was pulled into a tight braid, pale of skin, her dress extenuated her figure, and her burning emerald eyes held knowledge not meant for mortal man.
They were formally introduced, and she curtsied as she whispered out, "Bro, are you drunk? I know I have perky baps but you really shouldn't stare like that when other people are watching."
Tyrion froze a moment, then broke out laughing.
Her, he liked.