Tyrion's Epilogue Ch. 02

Tyrion slept better than usual with Neyela at his side. The warmth of her soft flesh in his hands and against his naked body was more soothing than he could have imagined. But when the sun came through the window, Tyrion was alone in his bed. The feather pillow next to him still bore the indentation of Neyela's head and one long blonde hair was there as proof that she had been there. He sat up and hopped down from the bed. His body felt less tense and sore than most mornings as he sauntered to the wardrobe and pulled on a linen tunic.

The empty wine glasses and pitcher sat near the window and Tyrion could smell the cloves and deep berries of the spiced wine. He held an empty goblet to his nose and drank in the unusually earthy smell.

Today was his wedding day, but he didn't feel nearly the amount of dread he had expected.

The door opened suddenly and his squire, Wenderly Lannister stepped in gingerly.

"Good morning, Wenderly," Tyrion greeted him.

Wenderly stood in stunned silence, not used to being greeted so cheerfully by Tyrion.

"G--Good morning ser," Wenderly stood rigidly. "Do you want a tub brought in for a bath ser?"

"Yes," Tyrion nodded, "I suppose I should smell nice for my wedding day."

Wenderly stepped out and was replaced in moments by three maids carrying in a large copper tub and then the buckets of boiling came in one by one to fill the tub. Rose-oil was added to the steaming water and Tyrion dismissed the maids. He stripped off the tunic and stepped into the water.

While he soaked, Wenderly brought in a breakfast of bacon, quail eggs, and fresh figs.

"Wenderly, do you think you could bring me some wine to go with breakfast?" Tyrion asked.

"Of course, my Lord."

"Do you think you could track down some of that?" he pointed to empty pitcher and goblets from the night before. "It's something from the Sunrise Isles."

Wenderly picked up the empty containers, "Aye, I can find this," and he scuttled from the room.

Tyrion leaned back in the tub and his thoughts turned to Neyela.

He thought of her young, supple body; the way her full breasts had looked in the candle light. Her sweet demeanor had been wholly enchanting. He had revealed to her things that he hadn't told anyone.

Suddenly he felt guilty. No, he wasn't married yet, but he was thinking about another woman on the morning of his wedding to a sweet, young girl who didn't deserve his disloyalty. And he had done that before. He remembered the last night he had with Shae in the dragon skull room before the morning of his wedding to Sansa.

And suppose Neyela would be at the wedding feast today. Maybe she'd be a serving girl, cutting the cake that she had helped to bake and decorate. He'd have to pretend he'd never seen her before. He had one stab of guilt when he considered Linnea sitting next to him if he saw Neyela but he was interrupted by the return of Wenderly with the wine. He was followed by two maids carrying his wedding clothes and by Bronn.

The maids laid out the clothes on the divan and left. Wenderly set the wine down and Bronn poured himself a goblet and handed another to Tyrion.

"Well today's the day, friend," Bronn leaned against the mantle.

"Today is the day," Tyrion took a long sip from his glass.

"This one going to stick you think?"

"I don't see how it won't. Even if she's half as ugly as me, we don't hate each other and we're both helping our families and our countries."

Bronn nodded, drinking.

"Aye, and she brings along that little baking girl, eh?"

Tyrion shot Bronn a look of warning and he raised his hands in faux surrender. "Just an observation."

"It was an enjoyable evening," Tyrion ceded. "Do you think she's going back to the Sunrise Isles once the delegation leaves?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure the Hand of the King could have some say in that."

"It's probably for the best if she goes back. I'm past whoring. I want to be a loyal husband for once."

Tyrion drained his glass and tossed it back to Bronn.

"Now get out, I have to get ready for my wedding."

Bronn emptied his glass and started for the door.

"You know, I think it's going to be a lovely day for a wedding."

Bronn exited and Wenderly came back in with fresh towels. Tyrion dried himself and pulled on his smallclothes and a crisp white tunic. He had Wenderly trim his beard and apply cologne.

Then he put on the scarlet lambswool breeches and a matching doublet with fine hand woven jacquard trims. He pulled on the new leather boots and finally a cloth of gold cape with the lion brooch to hold it on this shoulder.

He left the tower of the hand and mounted his horse headed for the sept.

The wedding in the sept was going to be first followed by the midsommer ceremony of the Sunrise Isles right after. The crowds surrounding the sept got denser the closer they got and the people cheered as Tyrion rode through-a wholly unusual phenomena compared to the time he'd almost been killed by an angry mob on this very road.

He rode into the seven sided yard of the sept and dismounted giving his horse to one of the serving septons. He turned back when he heard the crowds erupt behind him and he caught a glimpse of fiery red hair as Queen Sansa and the delegates from the North approached. Arya Stark followed shortly and then members of the small council. King Bran and the Kingsguard had arrived early to accommodate his rolling pavilion that carried his chair. The guests went into the sept and when Tyrion heard one more large cry from the crowd he knew the Princess and her entourage had arrived. He knew that was his que to take his place near the altar inside.

Tyrion took his place next to the high septon who bade the audience to rise as he opened The Seven Pointed Star and began to read the Mother's verses on marriage.

With the verses finally concluded, the great doors at the back of the hall were opened to reveal Princess Linnea on the arm of her father's most trusted advisor Bjorn son of Byron. Linnea wore a dress of such light gold it almost looked white except that it shimmered in the lights as she walked revealed the metallic yellow of the threads. Around her waist was a busiter of sapphire blue embroidered with the Dala horse of her house. Above that, the top of the dress was hidden by the veil made from the same iridescent golden-ivory chiffon as the dress. Linnea's blonde hair was up in a towering knot of braids and curls bedecked with sapphires and the delicate pink flowers that were her namesake. A golden tiara sat upon her forehead and the delicate veil hung from it.

Tryion knew that the veil would not be removed in this ceremony but in the second ceremony outside. He'd been taken through the order of service multiple times and had memorized the vows for that ceremony as Linnea had to learn the vows of this one.

Linnea approached the wedding alter that was set between the shrines of the Mother and the Father where Tyrion waited. At the end of the aisle Tyrion stepped forward and took Linnea's hand from Bjorn and they stood before the high septon.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," said the septon in a clear loud voice.

Wenderly handed Tyrion the new cloak of House Lannister that Tyrion had made for the ceremony, the previous one being burnt to a crisp in the fire two years years earlier. The new cloak was scarlet velvet and golden brocade trimmed with rubies. The back bore a lion in attacking stance.

Linnea knelt to receive the cloak and Tyrion moved around her. He caught a look at Sansa in the audience and she gave him an apologetic smile, both remembering their wedding where she had neglected to kneel for the cloaking. He smiled back at Sansa and finished pulling the cloak around his bride's shoulders and stood beside her again.

"My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

Tyrion took Linnea's hand in his while the septon placed the ribbon to tie their lives together.

"Let it be known that Tyrion of House Lannister and Princess Linnea, Daughter of Emperor Magnus are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

While he spoke the septon had wrapped their hands together and tied a knot. With the conclusion he pulled the ribbon away, leaving them metaphorically sealed together for life.

"Look upon each other and say the words," commanded the septon.

Tyrion turned to Linnea. They clasped hands and spoke in unison, ""Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..."

Tyrion stated, "I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

Linnea spoke simultaneously in her low, silky voice, "I am his and his is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

Traditionally the groom would seal the vows with a kiss, but that step was being delayed to the second ceremony so instead the septon declared that the two were wed the audience applauded.

Tyrion offered Linnea his arm and they strode back down the aisle to the great doors. The lower septons opened the doors and they stepped out into the sun and into view of the great crowd who cheered and applauded the couple. Linnea held up and delicate hand and waved to the crowd and Tyrion followed suit.

They then made their way to the Midsommer pole to begin the second ceremony.

The pole had been brought all the way from the Sunrise Isles for the wedding. It was fifteen feet high and from the pole hung 44 ribbons in every color of the rainbow, all three inches thick and each was trimmed at the end with bells. Linnea led Tyrion toward the pole and took up the bridal ribbon, which was in this case a golden silk lined with sapphires. Next to it was a scarlet velvet ribbon with golden edges; Tyrion took up this one.

Sunrise Isles weddings were large affairs as 42 unwed witness were required to hold the remaining ribbons on the pole. Young heirs of all the great houses had been chosen to take up the ribbons, as old as 40 and as young as 12. The witnesses came and took their places at their ribbons. Linnea and Tyrion each held their ribbons and joined their free hands together. Linnea started, reciting her vows in her own language and when she finished Tyrion recited what he had been taught in the Common Tongue ending with the phrase Linnea had used when they met, "May the sun never set on our happiness."

And with that the ribbon ceremony began. It was almost a dance as the circle of 44 people began to walk about the pole counterclockwise while a small band of musicians played the traditional wedding song. After a few measures the direction changed and the entire group went clockwise.

Tyrion was thankful that the bride and groom didn't have to do the next part because he and Linnea approached the center pole with their own ribbons while those in the circle began to weave in and out together. Tyrion and Linnea secured their ribbons at the marked point and tied them together symbolizing their own lives being tied together. The golden ribbon of Linnea and the scarlet ribbon of Tyrion wove together around the silver pole while the multicolored witness ribbons danced above them in the sun. Two pillows sat at the base of the pole and Linnea and Tyrion went to their knees facing each other.

Tyrion had been told that this was the point where couples on the Sunrise Isles would commit their own vows to each other and expressions of love-sweet and innocent or colorful and sensual depending on the couple. With the loud music and the laughter of the crowd. No one would hear what they said to each other and with the 42 people surrounding them, they were mostly hidden from view as well.

This was also the moment when the bride lifted her veil and revealed her face to her new husband. Linnea knelt opposite Tyrion and took one of his hands in hers.

"My Lord, thank you for the kindness you have shown me since my arrival. I am very glad that we are married today."

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you, my Lady," Tyrion responded.

"With your help, I will remove my veil, My Lord. I do hope you will not be disappointed."

Tyrion nodded and felt the squeeze of nerves in his stomach. Linnea raised her hand to her right temple and started to unhook the veil from her golden tiara. Tyrion started at the other side. Their hands met in the middle and when the hook came free the veil fell away revealing a face that Tyrion already knew.

Kneeling across from him was Neyela.

Her ocean blue eyes searched Tyrion's face for his thoughts.

"Neyela?" he murmured.

"My Lord?" she spoke softly, awaiting his approval.

"But, last night? How did you...?"

"I had to know that you were kind and gentle. I had to know that you would be a man that I could someday love," she admitted. "I had one of my men ask Bronn to arrange it."

Tyrion gaped.

"My Lord, are you angry?" she suddenly looked sad and fearful.

"Angry?" Tyrion spoke. "This is the best news I could have received."

Tyrion placed his hands on Linnea's soft, pale cheeks and pulled her to him and into a deep first kiss as husband and wife.

Tyrion pulled away and looked at his wife. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He stood and helped her to stand and they broke out of the circle of weaving ribbon dancers to thunderous applause from the crowd.

The wedding feast was back at the king's palace. Tents of food and musicians lined every bare space. There were eight courses of the meal and though the high septon had balked, Tyrion insisted that eight instead of seven courses could only mean more blessings. The courses alternated in country of origin. An appetizer of boiled clams from the Fingers made by Westrosi chefs was followed by a quiche from the Summer Islanders. There were two soups, then two entrees and finally the wedding pie followed by the cake. Tyrion refused to cut the pigeon pie having memories of the pie that had been served at his nephews' wedding feast where he'd killed the boy and fled to the East.

The last course was a cake, 6 feet high and covered in a creamy frosting. Each layer was a different flavor and little Linnea flowers ran around each of the six layers.

Tryion and Linnea held the cake knife together to cut the first slice. And he was surprised to see her kneel down to place a kiss on his cheek.

Musicians from through the six kingdoms, the North, and the Summer Isles walked among the guests taking requests for songs for dancing- Tyrion's only command had been that no one play the Rains of Castamere.

The afternoon flew by and the evening sun had just begun to wane. Linnea was dancing with a group of her ladies maids twilight and Tyrion watched her. She moved with a joy and grace that he was not accustomed to. Her wedding gown which had been partially covered by the veil she had worn now exposed her smooth white shoulders and her full decolletage was accentuated by fine Myrish lace.

He didn't hear Bronn walk up behind him.

"Congratulations, my Lord," he said startling Tyrion enough to spill his wine.

Tyrion looked over at Bronn, "How long did you know?"

"Oh, we've been plotting for about a week," he said nonchalantly drinking his own ale.

Tyrion laughed, knowing he should be angry but he was full of wine and too happy with his young bride to chastise Bronn.

"What do you suppose we get this bedding underway?" Bronn started to move toward the dancing women, but Tyrion caught his jerkin and yanked him back. He was not about to let his wife be humiliated by the Westrosi bedding tradition.

Instead he hurried toward his bride and taking her hand he murmured to her, "My lady, I'm afraid if we don't leave on our own accord soon, you will be exposed to one of the countries worst traditions."

She looked at him confused for a moment before realizing what he meant. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

She turned to her ladies and bade them goodnight and took Tyrion's arm. They approached the head table and blew out the candle that had been lit for them signaling that they were heading out. The crowd gave a final cheer and Linnea turned back to wave goodnight.

The couple took the small path down away from the King's palace and toward the Tower of the Hand. Once they were well out of earshot of the crowd and any lingering servers, Linnea spoke, "My Lord, about last night-"

Tyrion stopped walking and looked up at his wife, "There's no need to apologise. Last night I felt more comfortable than I have in years."

They started walking again, this time hand in hand. They saw the Tower of the Hand looming ahead of them.

"I meant to say...that I...that last night I," Linnea stopped, blushing furiously.

Tyrion caressed her hand, "What is it, My Lady?"

"I am not a maid for our wedding night," she choked out.

Tyrion laughed softly, "My Lady, I'm obviously no maid myself. It doesn't bother me that you've known others "

"No," she shook her head. "I gave my maidenhead to you...last night."

Tyrion thought about the night before. Neyela had seemed confident and knowledgeable at first but she had been shy to take him in her mouth. He thought of how her eyes had bugged at the first site of his erect member. He remembered how tight she'd felt around him and the scream she'd given when he entered her in one hard stroke.

"You faced away from me...so I wouldn't see the pain," he said.

"Yes," she admitted.

"I was not gentle with you. Was it very painful?"

Linnea hesitated, "It was at first. A quick, sharp pain and then the foreign feeling of you being inside me."

She saw the shame cross Tyrion's face. "But there was pleasure too! And knowing that I was making you happy brought me more pleasure than anything else."

"My lady, you should not have been taken like a common whore. You're a Princess of the Sunrise Isles."

"And I deceived you," Linnea interrupted. "But I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I'll never lie to you again. I promise."

Tyrion brought her soft white hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. They walked in silence the rest of the way to the tower. A servant was waiting to meet them there and saw them inside and up to the bedchamber.

Linnea walked in first and Tyrion pulled the door closed behind them. Linnea's things had been brought into the room during the day; her blue and gold dressing gown hung on the door of the wardrobe and a silver handled hairbrush and hand mirror sat on the vanity. There was also a fresh pitcher of wine and new golden goblets.

Linnea walked to the divan and sat gingerly. Tyrion poured them each a glass of wine and hoisted himself to sit beside her.

Linnea sipped timidly and neither spoke for a few minutes.

Finally Tyrion spoke, "My Lady, you must be tired and perhaps a bit sore. There's no need for the consumation to happen tonight if you'd like to just sleep-"

"No! No, I'd like to...be with you again. And I'd like it if you called me Linnea, my Lord."

"Only if you'll call me Tyrion." Linnea nodded and smiled.

"I'd like to be with you again tonight as well...Linnea. And I promise to be gentle." Tyrion rested one hand on Linnea's cloth covered knee.

Linnea set down her wine and leaned to Tyrion, resting her own hand on his thigh, she placed her soft, full pink lips on his. He kissed her back softly, then slowly he ran his tongue along her lower lip. She opened her mouth allowing him access. Their tongues danced together and Tyrion felt himself growing in his breeches.

Linnea must have felt it too, because she pulled away quickly then realizing what she'd felt she giggled and blushed a deep red.

"You are exceedingly pretty when you blush," Tyrion told her.