#so i might just get a caramel colored hair mask and try to blend my roots out and just wait til i get back to fuck up my hair

[stevie-baby]

i’m looking at hair dye and stuff because i need to touch up my roots but now i want to do something drastic

[unicornofdanger]

The Shadows of King’s Landing

Author’s Note: This is really long and I didn’t intend it to be but I love. And I have decided that summaries are a good thing and I don’t know why I just realized this as I normally don’t read a fic unless the summary sounds good which is so stupid. Please let me know how you guys feel about this because I think I might make this is to a series. Requests are open right now. So, send them in.

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Masterlist & Prompt Lists Game of Thrones Prompt List

Request by @damedevon

Tyrion Lannister x Reader

Summary: Y/n lurks in the shadows of the city, hiding from the life that she wants to get away from, that is until she meets Lord Tyrion Lannister. They both have met before, but neither can figure out where. And the worst part of all is that Tyrion comes from the one place that Y/n swore she would never go back to.

20. “He/She/ is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”

40. “I have never hurt anyone. Yes, I’ve killed and I’ve damaged but those are things that you can overcome. Mentally, however, I’ve harmed no one but myself.”

Word Count: 3,964

Warnings: Language, abuse

The streets of King’s Landing were silent and dark as a shadowed figure swept between the allies. It was odd to see the city so dead when it was full of life during the day, bursting at the seams. All the colors of the day, the yellows, the reds, the pinks, and the blues, all gone. The flowers that littered window sills and the banners that were strung between the buildings were now different shades of grey and black, blending in with the dark sky above. It was unsettling to see all the color drained. The stillness in the air and the hush of voices of those who didn’t want to be heard made the hair on the back of the neck stand. It was no hour for the faint of heart.

But it was a perfect time for the wicked.

Walking down the back alley, the shadowed figure, covered in a cloak and masked by the shadows, came upon the back door of a tavern that seemed to be the only place still full of life. Light seeping out of the windows and hollering voices flowing out from under the door cracks. The cloaked figure looked around, making sure not be seen, before sliding into the tavern.

“Ah! If it isn’t my favorite liar!” a lean man said from behind his desk in the back room. From where he sat, black circles could be seen under his eyes, probably from getting little sleep to make sure that no thieves came in a stole his money. And his face was littered with scars that came from fights that he had to break up when men got too drunk.

The cloaked figure untied the fabric and slid of the material, exposing (y/h/c) swept into a (y/h/s). Hanging up the cloak the figure stood in the candlelight near the man’s desk. “And if it isn’t my favorite hustler.”

The man let out a laugh, shaking his head. Oh, the people he had decided to socialize with. “We’ve been over this dear, I’m not a hustler.”

“Than what are you?” the liar raised a brow. “A generous friend who thinks that money is a burden that should be put on someone else’s shoulders?”

He clapped his hands together,” Yes, that’s exactly it. Oh, I can always count on you, Y/n, to tell me exactly what I am.”

Y/n took a seat in a ragged chair in front of the desk. The poor chair looked like it was from the forming of the Iron Throne. It probably looked better than the man that owned it as it had been in fewer fights. “Are you sure that that’s a good thing?” she inquired, leaning back and resting her feet on the desk. “I mean, I’m a liar.”

The man smiled, standing from his chair. “It is because liars often have weird ways of telling the truth. Would you like a drink?” he asked, gesturing to a bottle that was covered in a filthy layer of dust. Y/n shook her head and the man began to pour himself a drink. “I would rather,” he continued. “be call out on the spot by a low life like you than lied to by the woman that I’m supposed to love.”

Y/n let out a sigh. She was glad that she never had the joy of having to love someone. Having to do anything wasn’t her favorite thing in the world. It was probably because she didn’t like being told what to do. And anyway, when it came to trouble in the bedroom, it often ended with someone dead and the other headed to the gallows. Y/n didn’t want either. “Rough waters?”

The man chugged down his drink and turned to her, running a hand over his mouth to catch the liquor the ran down his face. “Rough waters? Rough waters, my dear, is when you spill a bottle of wine or when you spend all your bread money on more wine! I have not been caught in rough waters.” He took the dusty bottle and poured himself another glass. “I seem to be caught in a hurricane.”

Before the conversation could go any further, the door leading to the front of the tavern swung open. As light poured in, Y/n turned to see a tiny man, in a clean red leather jack with curly brown hair, waltz into the room. Their eyes met for a second before he was drawn to the other man that was probably trying to drink himself to death. No one would blame him once they met his wife.

“Olly,” the small man spoke. “Have you got the wine in yet? I promised a dear friend of mine and you know I only serve the best.”

Olly set down his glass and turned to Y/n, who was still sitting in the poor chair that was likely to fall apart any second, and pointed at her, “Don’t touch anything.”

Her arms flew up in defense, “I would never.” She’d already been through his office before and she didn’t find anything she liked the first time. There was no chance that he had gotten anything new since as it was two days ago.

Turning back to the little man, Olly nodded. “Yes, my lord. I got the shipment in yesterday. I don’t think anyone has touched it, but there are always thieves around,” he stated, throwing a glare Y/n’s way.

She rolled her eyes as Olly lead them to one of the storage rooms, leaving her in peace. While she waited for Olly to return, her mind drifted back to the man that Olly referred to as lord. Her first thought was the Westeros had too many lords. You turned the corner and there would be three standing in the middle of the street. But then she realized that she knew the man. She didn’t know from where or how, but she had seen the tiny lord somewhere.

When Olly and the man returned, Y/n stood from the tattered chair. “I’m glad you found the wine,” gesturing to the bottle that Olly held. “Glad no thief took right out from under your nose as they seem to like to do that around her.”

Olly snorted. “You should be-” He walked to his desk, set the bottle of wine down and pulled out a notebook and a quill. “-otherwise, your head would likely be had for it.”

Y/n laughed, forgetting that she was in the company of a lord. “If I do recall, I think you called me a liar, not a thief,” she pointed out, going to grab her cloak. “So, if the wine was stolen, I wouldn’t take it, I would just lie about who did.”

“Good to know,” Olly let out as he scrawled the information about the wine in his notebook, otherwise he would wake up the next day and think that someone did, in fact, steal it. And Y/n would probably let him believe so.

Throwing her cloak around her shoulders and tying it in front of her, Y/n opened the door. “See you later, Olly.”

“Wait!”

Y/n stopped in the doorway.

“You never told me what you wanted.”

She nodded, looking out into the dark alley. “That’s right. But maybe I didn’t want anything at all.” And with that she walked into the quiet King’s Landing night, letting the door shut behind her, and into the shadows of the city. The only place where she belonged.

Tyrion stood there and watched as the door shut behind the woman. She looked familiar to him, maybe he’d seen her once. Maybe before she was a liar she worked for his family or maybe he’d seen her in passing on the streets. “Who is she?”

Olly sighed, running a hand down his face. “Don’t tell me your interested in that woman.”

Tyrion looked at him, then back at the door. “No, I’m just curious.”

“Curious? Yeah, and I’m the queen,” he laughed. “No one is ever curious about her, only interested and that is a horrible thing to be.” Olly handed Tyrion his bottle of wine and shut his notebook, sliding into a drawer of his desk.

“Why is that?” Tyrion asked, taking a seat in the chair that had been occupied minutes before by the mysterious woman.

Olly returned to his half-empty glass. Taking the bottle, he poured the caramel liquid until it almost spilled out of his glass. “It is not a good idea to go after Y/n because you wouldn’t like it if she went after you. You may seek love, my lord. But she… well, she seeks money. And she gets it by- um- ruining people’s day.”

Tyrion nodded. Many women in Westeros played that game. They wanted power so they got it wherever they could find it. Tyrion’s own sister was just like that and he’d managed to live with her for his whole life. What could one woman do that all the others in Westeros couldn't? “My lovely sister takes joy in ruining people’s day as well, what’s the difference?”

Olly cleared his throated, setting down his drink. Honestly, Olly wasn’t sure how the men of King’s Landing survived with Y/n on the street. With any woman on the street. They seemed to think that each were alike and that one couldn't be worse than the other. But one can always be worse. “What’s the difference!?! For starters, your sister actually has manners. Yes, she is an evil, vile woman but she still has manners. Y/n barely has manners, if you want to call them that. It’s probably because doesn’t get paid enough to have them. Not only that, but Y/n will take everyone that you own out from under you before your very eyes and somehow you can do nothing but thank her. No one thanks your sister for doing the same and people hate her for it. You can’t help but love Y/n when she does it. When she does anything.”

Tyrion stood from the chair, wine bottle in hand. “She still doesn’t sound as venomous as the queen,” he commented, heading to the door.

“Alright, maybe not, but here’s a little piece of advice in case you decide to go after her like a fool, my lord: She is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”

Tyrion thanked his friend for the advice and the bottle of wine and went on his way. For some reason, even after the warning he was given, the lord still was curious about Y/n. There was something about her, maybe it was the fact that she looked familiar, that drew his mind to her. Maybe it was her beauty that hid a monster or maybe it was the fact that she would spice up his boring life. He didn’t know what it was, but the dwarf wanted to find out.

“Let go of me,” Y/n struggled under the iron grip of the guards carrying her through the castle. The halls still looked the same as they did the last time she had walked through them. But the last time, she was walking through them by choice, not by force. As she walked, they passed pillars, turned gold by the sun, and statues of fierce warriors that the city hadn’t seen in hundreds of years. As they walked, Y/n saw things that she hadn’t missed since she’d left. And some she didn’t even remember.

The last time that she had stepped foot in the castle was when she was 18 years old and she swore that she would never come back.

When Y/n was 16 years old, a child really, her parents had decided that it was time to marry their children off for political gain. Y/n had time to still be carefree as her mother had to worry about finding husbands for her older sisters. It didn’t take long before all that was left was Y/n. But once they were married off and as happy as they were expected to be, her mother turned her eyes to her youngest daughter.

Y/n, a bright eyes and adventurous girl, was then brotheled to a nobleman that found his home in the king’s court and in the bars around the city. Y/n was ripped away from her family and forced to live in the unfamiliar capital where she had no friends and few allies. She was alright for a while as she was used to being alone as her siblings and parents never wanted much to do with her. Living in the capital was nice and being married wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be as her husband was often away drinking with friends. That left her time to read and walk around the castle with ease. But over time, her husband decided that she needed to be put in her place as she wasn’t “obedient enough”. In his eyes, she was just never enough. And that is when she decided that she didn’t want that life. She didn’t want to live in the castle. She didn’t want to bathe in gold and drink wine all day. She wanted to be free.

One day, her husband came home from a drinking binge and beat her for the simple fact that she hadn’t given him a child. She barely could stand getting in bed with the man, she wasn’t sure how she would be able to handle having his child. He beat her so badly that she could barely stand, yet no one did anything about it. The women that would pass her through the castle would mutter “poor dear” as they notice the purple and blue bruises on her face, but they didn’t care because it wasn’t them. Their face didn’t meet the back of a hand as hard as her’s did so they had no problem with what went on. But she did. When she was well enough to walk, Y/n took what money she could find and left her husband and didn’t look back. He didn’t seem to care as he spent that night like he spent the one before, drinking.

Y/n prayed that she didn’t see his ugly face as she was dragged through the one place she never wanted to return to. She hoped that he had drowned in the horrible liquid that turned him into a monster.

The guards stopped in front of a large door before knocking on the coarse wood. Y/n turned to see two children run down the hall, oblivious to her and the guards. They were lost in their own little worlds. That sounded really good to her at the moment. They reminded her of her life before coming to King’s Landing. A time when she was a sweet and innocent child. Those days were long gone. Dust blew away in the wind. A petite woman in a green dress with a light green shawl that hid black hair, opened the door. Seeing the woman squashed between the guards she opened the door enough to let them all in.

Once in the room, the guards threw Y/n to the floor and left. With a huff, she caught herself on the rough stone floor. Another thing she didn’t miss, the great manners of the guards. Y/n looked around as the woman closed the door, hearing the metal of the guards' uniforms clank as the walked back to wherever they came from. She noticed that she was surrounded by windows on almost every side and to the back of the room were a few chairs, a table and to the side of both, a bookshelf. Sitting in one of the chairs, Y/n noticed as she stood up, was the lord that she had met the night before.

Y/n tried to dust herself off, but the dust stain on her pant leg just didn’t seem to want to leave. Another problem with the castle, the dust liked to linger. She gave up, folding her arms over her chest, she went to stand in front of the little man. “Why have you so rudely called me here, my lord?”

The lord laughed, gauntlet in hand. Swirling the red liquid inside around and around, he decided to answer. “I didn’t rudely call you here, the guards are just rude. I’d say excuse their behavior but nothing like that should be excused.” He stood from the chair and extended his free hand toward his guest, “Lord Tyrion Lannister.”

Reluctantly she grasped his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Y/n.” Dropping his hand, she walked around the room, running her hand over a banner that was hung between two windows.

Like the night before, Y/n still couldn’t place where she knew the lord. She may have seen him from her time in the castle when she was still married to her monster of a husband. But she felt that she knew him deeper than that. Like she had poured her heart out to him once. Like she had loved him once.

“No last name?”

She shook her head, her eyes wandering around the banner that was a map of King’s Landing in different shades of red, black, and gold. She ran a finger down the street that she had been the night before, the place where one of her only friends lived. “No, my lord. Last names are used far too often as an excuse to inflict pain.”

The Lord nodded in agreement. His family was one of many to do so. It seemed that anyone of noble birth used their noble title to degrade and dehumanize those around them. It was disgusting. Taking a drink of wine, he told her, “I have been informed that you know quite a lot about that.”

Y/n turned to him with a raised brow. She wasn’t surprised that Olly had said anything about her to the man. He was not one to be trusted with a secret when drunk as he had a hard time holding his liquor. And sometimes he was no better when sober either. “Everyone knows quite a lot about it,” she assured him. “We all just pretend not to.”

It was very true. People lived only to die and to not be acquainted with death was to not live at all.

“Wise words,” Tyrion mutter, raising his glass before taking another drink.

“What do you want from me, my lord?” Y/n asked, approaching him. She had been enjoying a card game before she was rudely ripped away and for what? To discuss the horribleness of the world with some lord who didn’t have to face it day in and day out. He never had to worry where his next meal came from or what he had to do to earn money. He never had to worry about being forced into bed by a man or to be beaten to death by one. He didn’t face that problem. His sister had set his family up for success when she married the king. Tyrion would never have to want for anything.

“Y/n, please call my Tyrion,” he insisted. “And I want to have a conversation with you as you are unlike any other woman in King’s Landing.”

Letting out a breath, Y/n didn’t know what to say. Somehow, she took that as an insult when it wasn’t so. But it didn’t sound right. It sounded like she was some whore who danced around the streets naked.“Is that because I don’t intend to sleep with you or because I have nothing in common with noble women like your sister?” she asked him out of concern. Y/n had spent many years reading people and learn how men really worked, it was the only way to live in their world, but she didn’t understand what Tyrion meant. What made her any different than any other woman that wanted to get ahead? That wanted to find herself in a better place than the present?

“Because you need an ally with high standing in this city, otherwise you will get eaten by the lions,” he stated like it was obvious.

He had a point. Dancing between the shadows worked wonders, but only on moonless nights. One day, she would slip up, Y/n would get caught with blood on her hands and no way out. Death was around the corner, but she didn’t want to turn that corner too soon. There was still so much that she wanted to do. Y/n rolled her eyes, letting out a laugh, “You forget that you are a lion.”

“Oh, but I thought that you didn’t like last names,” he retorted. “And who said that I eat meat?”

“Yes,” she agreed, moving to rest her hands on the back of one of the chairs, “but they hold means, nonetheless, that are important to remember.”

Tyrion shrugged. She had a good point. But in King’s Landing everyone seemed to be a lion that preyed upon anyone that was too close. “May I ask you a question?”

Y/n nodded, turning to look out of the windows that gave a great view of the city.

“I am under the impression that you are a mercenary.” He waited for Y/n to turn her attention back to him. “Why? Why hurt people to get ahead? Doesn’t that make you as bad as every other murderer that walks the streets?”

Y/n tossed the questions around in her head. She wasn’t really sure why she did what she did. And she really wasn’t a mercenary, she did whatever she was paid to do. She didn’t really see it as getting ahead anyway, because she hadn’t gone far, she had just gotten enough away from the place that she used to be and that’s really all she wanted. But he had a point. Y/n had never really asked herself why. She seemed to do things out of impulse and since they hadn’t gotten her killed she continued to do them. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to live.

Who would have thought that one conversation with the dwarf of King’s Landing would make Y/n rethink her life? She surely didn’t. But he had a point. She practically walked around with a blindfold over her eyes, stumbling in the dark. She had killed people, drawn blood, and robbed them blind without even batting an eye. At this point, Y/n wasn’t sure if her lifestyle had done more damage to those around King’s Landing or to herself. She was scared to find out.

It also made her wonder if she was as bad as the abusive man that she left. He beat her for no other reason than he enjoyed it. Maybe that’s why she was in the line of work that she was in. Maybe she enjoyed it.

“No, my lord,” she began. “Every other murderer on the street hurts people because it brings them joy. It doesn’t bring me joy. And I have never hurt anyone. Yes, I’ve killed and I’ve damaged but those are things that you can overcome. Mentally, however, I’ve harmed no one but myself.” Removing her hands from the chair, Y/n headed to the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a card game to get back to.”

With that she slipped through the door, closing it with a thud behind her and walked through the castle.