True to his promise to the lady, as soon as Tyrion had risen the next morning, he had made his way to the library, spending the whole day under piles of ancient manuscripts and twisted vellum, in a desperate attempt to try and locate anything that may assist him to free the princess; but that original oath had been many moons ago now, and much to his chagrin, Tyrion was yet to fulfill his pledge to the princess.

"It doesn't matter Tyrion. Please do not fret so. I have been a prisoner for so long that I may not be meant for your world. If you were able to help me break the curse, what would I have to my name? In my time I was the princess of the greatest of houses. I had my family; I was to be married. I had the whole world opening up to me; but if I escape these confines, I would have nothing." (Y/n) explained, trying her best to reassure the little lion.

"But you would have me, (Y/n). You will always have me. Do not think that for one moment I will stop the search." Tyrion told (Y/n), as he rubbed his tired eyes and pulled up his chair next to the mirror so that he and the princess could talk better.

This had become their routine now. Every day Tyrion would spend the daylight hours in the library, searching the darkest undisturbed corners for the oldest tomes in his ongoing quest. At night he would return, tired, to his rooms to inform (Y/n) of his progress, the mere sight of her instantly bringing him back to life, as he dragged his chair over to the mirror so that the two could spend the night talking.

Tyrion had to admit that he had grown to love their time together, had grown to love (Y/n), and now no longer wanted to free his princess just to free her, but also in hopes that if she did return to the real world, then he and (Y/n) may be able to be together, although deep down he doubted it. There was part of him, that hoped that if he did find a way to free (Y/n), then he might too find a spell that could turn him into someone that she could love, a spell that could make him as tall, strong and handsome as his brother; but he knew that that was probably an impossibility.

"Tyrion. What are thinking about, you look unhappy?" (Y/n) asked, concern evident in her voice as she brought Tyrion back from his thoughts.

"Nothing (Y/n), I assure you. I am just angry at myself that I have not been able to do more. I feel as though I have let you down." Tyrion replied, sadness filling him as he thought about the fact that the only way he would ever be close to (Y/n) was just as he was now, sitting in front of her prison, unable to touch her, unable to confess how he had begun to feel. He knew that everyday (Y/n) would watch as he got older and older, and he would have to watch her stay young, tortured by the image of perfection that he could never truly be with. When he had first realised this now all to possible fate, he had considered covering the mirror, wrapping it tightly, and leaving it in the highest tower of the Red Keep just so that he didn't have to look at her unobtainable beauty day in and day out; but he knew that he couldn't do that. (Y/n) needed him, he had promised her, and despite knowing that he might never have her, he could now not be without her.

"Tyrion. You haven't let me down at all. Simply being seen by you makes me feel free. Being able to speak with you, to know that I am no longer alone, is more important to me than you will ever know. You are the only person that has ever been able to see me, not even my father or my betrothed were able to do that. Doesn't that tell you something? I think it must be true what that old man told you, that the mirror chose you for some reason.  And I have not lose faith in you Tyrion, I know that you will do as you promised." (Y/n) tried to reassure, as she smiled sweetly at the little man, Tyrion's heart pounding violently even at the tiny gesture.

"Thank you, (Y/n). Now, why don't you tell me more about your world?" Tyrion chuckled, as he sat back, eagerly listening as (Y/n) continued to acquaint him with the wonders of her time.

                                                             >>------------------------------<<

Tyrion staggered down the Street of Silk. More days had passed, more days of searching through every ancient tome that the great library had to offer. More days of having to return to his room and inform (Y/n) that he had still found nothing.

Normally he would return to his room after a long day, but tonight he couldn't face (Y/n). Tonight, he had to get out and try and alleviate the disappointment he felt within himself. He knew that (Y/n) was not disappointed in him or his efforts, but he had always prided himself in his intelligence, in his ability to find whatever he wanted; now though, that intelligence seemed to be failing him, and he was angry at himself.

Without warning, Tyrion suddenly found himself on the floor, his face firmly in a puddle of dirty water. Rolling over onto his back, Tyrion groaned and stared up into the sky, the dirty water trickling from his face and into his hair and ears.

"Been having a good evening again, Lord Tyrion?" A voice asked, Tyrion sitting bolt upright when he saw the smiling face of the old man from the little curiosity shop standing over him.

"Here. Come into my shop and we will get you cleaned up." The old man told him, offering Tyrion his hand and helping the little lion to his feet.

"How are you and the princess getting along?" The man asked, as he assisted Tyrion into the shop and placed a blanket around his shoulders.

"You knew about the princess? You knew that the mirror was cursed, that it was her prison?" Tyrion asked almost in disbelief, as the old man walked behind his counter and pulled out his old book, opening it to its marked page.

"Of course, I knew, my lord. All the items in my shop are cursed in one way or another, all of them waiting for the person that can break that curse and set it free. The princess has had to wait longer than most; but now she has found you, and you can release her from her curse." The old man hummed, never looking up from his book.

"BUT I CAN'T! I'VE TRIED! I CAN'T FIND THE BOOK!" Tyrion exclaimed angrily, pulling the blanket from his shoulders as he began to pace the wooden floor.

"I have looked through every book I can find in the great library. I have tried everything I can think of, yet I have failed time and time again, and (Y/n) is still as much of a prisoner as she ever was." Tyrion cried out, dropping his head into his hands and tugging at his hair in sheer frustration.

"So, you're looking for a book, hmmmmmm? What kind of book would that be?" The man behind the counter enquired, as he licked his finger and turned over the page.

"(Y/n) told me that the mage that cursed her, always carried around with him a large book in which he would write his incantations. It is possible that in that book lies the way to set (Y/n) free." Tyrion said with a sigh, now feeling horribly sober once again.

"And if you found that book, why would you free her?" The shopkeeper asked, finally looking up from the book in front of him, the old man's stare intense enough to make Tyrion feel uncomfortable.

"Because I promised (Y/n) I would. Because it feels like the right thing to do, and ............well, I would do it because......I love her." Tyrion confessed, not knowing whether to feel foolish or not for having fallen in love with a princess that was imprisoned in a cursed mirror.

"Well then my lord. You will be needing this." The man told him, as he closed the book in front of him, and pushed it towards Tyrion.

"I have been waiting for the man that would love her, for the man that would set her free for the purest of reasons. For the man that I knew that the princess could love with all her heart, her true love. So, take the book and break the curse, take it and be happy." The old man said, Tyrion grabbing the book from the counter and staring at it in disbelief.

He wanted to ask the man a thousand question, ask him why he knew all these things, why he was so concerned about (Y/n), but before he could ask a single question, his vision began to blur and his world turned black.

                                                            >>------------------------------<<

Tyrion sat bolt upright, his eyes growing wide as his muddled mind finally realised that he was in his own room, in his own bed, the new morning sun streaming through the windows. After a few moments he pushed off the covers, and dropping to the floor, frantically looking around his chamber, hoping beyond hope that what had happened had not all been a dream, and that he would find the ancient book that the old man had given him.

Tyrion wasn't necessarily one to cry, not one to show his emotions in front of many others; but as he dropped to his knees, his room in disarray, he couldn't help but let a tear roll down his cheek. The whole thing had been a dream, a cruel taunting dream that had given him hope. But in the cold light of day it had been taken away from him, and he couldn't help but feel as though he hated the world and all the gods.

As he slowly pushed himself from the floor, something under his bed caught his eye, something that he had never seen there before, something at once felt so familiar yet so unreal. Hesitantly he reached his hand under his bed, his fingers finding something solid as he tried to grip onto it, the object, though heavy, moving easily towards him as he pulled into view.

There before him was the book, and as he picked it up and held it closely to his chest, he knew that finally he may be able to free his princess.