Despite the weather outside that had been battering the vessel. Despite the heavy rain and wind that had picked up, the cabin that Tyrion had acquired at great expense, was warm and dry. The little lion, (Y/n) and Bronn riding out the storm in comfort. The wine flowing down the sellswords throat as easily as it always did, regardless of his previous condition. Tyrion and his new bodyguard rolling their eyes as Bronn started to grow louder, and more......well, more obnoxious than usual, if that was actually possible.

"Do ya always wear that armour..........?"

"Ya know......if ya want someone ta help ya off with it, I wouldn't mind......."

"I mean......I saw ya out of it in tha pits and well.......I'd fuck ya if ya could shut that smart mouth a yours fa more than a few seconds..........."

"I'd fuck ya every which way.............."

"ENOUGH!" Tyrion exclaimed, as he saw (Y/n)'s hand slip down to her dagger. The look in her eyes telling him that she had had enough of Bronn's insults that seemed to have been coming thick and fast since he had downed his first glass of wine. The young Lannister surprised that it had actually taken (Y/n) so long to want to kill him. And he had to admit that he hadn't been liking Bronn's comments either. Each remark becoming more lurid and descriptive as the sellsword became more inebriated. The idea of Bronn with (Y/n). The idea of him touching her. Of him treating her like a whore and doing with her as he wished for his own pleasure, was making Tyrion's insides churn. Was making the bile rise into his throat, and he didn't want to hear another lewd comment come from the sellswords lips. Of course, he had to admit that normally he was no better than Bronn. He could whore and drink with the best of them. Sometimes he believed that wine and women were his only reason for living. But in (Y/n), he saw something else. Something that could make him turn his back on over filled glasses, and brothels. On the need for women that truly cared nothing for him. That only wanted the gold in his purse. For unlike these women. And despite her reputation and abilities. (Y/n) was the most perfect and pure thing that Tyrion had ever met. And he would not allow Bronn to sully that. Even with words.

"Morgho. It's getting late. Why don't you go and change while I speak with Bronn? There is no need for all your armour, here. Use the other room. I will come and see you soon." Tyrion continued. Placing his hand over that of (Y/n)'s. The hand that was still gripping at the hilt of the dagger. Giving it a reassuring tap, as the fighter turned to look at him. The little man gesturing for her to use the adjoining room. Not liking the idea of her being naked in front of Bronn again. A small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, as the warrior nodded in agreement, and slowly got to her feet. Snorting angrily at the widely grinning sellsword before making her way into the other room.

"Out." Tyrion ordered, as he turned his attention back to Bronn.

"W........what?" Bronn slurred in reply, as he looked through red, heavy eyes at the obviously angry lord.

"Out. You can sleep outside the door. Up on deck. But you are not sleeping here." Tyrion told him, as he got to his feet and made his way over to the door and threw it open.

"But..........its raining out there..........." Bronn protested. Pouting like a small child that had been chastised by his mother. Doing his best to not fall from his chair, as he reached for the jug so that he could refill his glass yet again.

"I am sure that you will be fine. You keep telling me how rough and tough you are. How you have slept in piles of horse shit just to stay warm. So, outside this door should seem like nothing. And if you haven't noticed, the rain has stopped. And you could do with the fresh air." Tyrion retorted. Watching as Bronn reluctantly, and unsteadily got to his feet. Grabbed for the jug of wine, before making his way to the door.

"I know what's going on ere. Ya think I don't......but I do. Ya jealous. Ya think tha female Sandor is interested in me and not you. That she wants me. And who can blame er. She's got eyes. But ya can tell er, I ain't interested. She ain't my type. So, ya can have er............"

"OUT!" Tyrion shouted. Slamming the door behind Bronn, as he managed to drag himself out of the room. The little lion taking a deep breath and doing his best to calm his temper before making his way to check on (Y/n).

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

Morgho carefully removed her armour. The warrior placing the pieces on the floor. Allowing the leather to join it, before making her way over to a small basin on a table. Filling it with water, and using a cloth to clean her skin, as she would always do in the pits after a fight.

She still could not understand why Tyrion would continue to keep the fool of a sellsword in his service. He was a drunk. His mind too preoccupied with the pleasures of the flesh to be focused on protecting Tyrion as he should. Too busy at the brothels, to be there when the little man might need him. But now that she was with him, Morgho determined that she would allow nothing to happen to Tyrion. That because she had been unable to help her little mouse, she would not allow anything to harm her new friend, now that she could do something.

Friend. It seemed a strange thing to call the new little man in her life. After all, he had bought her. He had spent a lot of gold for her services. And in truth, or to her at least, he was her master. Yet almost instantly, he had freed her. Made her no longer a slave. One that had to answer to no master. Yet the concept of freedom after being a slave for so long, was a strange one. One that she was sure would take a little time to come to terms with.

Throwing the cloth back into the bowl, the warrior looked at her refection in the small mirror above the basin. Her hand brushing over her short cut hair. Her fingers ghosting over the scars on her skin. The fighter wondering whether a man could truly want her. Whether..........whether Tyrion could want her. She had never really had the time or the desire to think about the beauty of the man around her. Her only real purpose was to kill them. So, finding herself attracted to them, could have proved counterproductive. And even the man that she had spent most time with, her little mouse, she had to admit that she had never thought much about his features. Although his kindness, intelligence and care had made a place for him in her heart. A place that he would always hold until she herself left the world. Yet now, now she found that she did have to time, the desire to notice. And she had noticed Tyrion.

There was something about him. Something about that mischievous smile. About the look in his eyes, that she found herself attracted to. And her comment from earlier about there being a man much closer that might be proud to call her his, had not been a flippant one. She had really wanted to know, to see his reaction to her words. Yet before Tyrion could reply, his fool had interrupted them. But perhaps she may get another chance to see if her new friend might be interested in more than a friendship. More than her just being there to protect him. Though how she would go about that. What a woman did to actually tell a man that she liked him, was not something that she had had to learn in the pits.

"Are you alright?" Tyrion asked, interrupting (Y/n)'s thoughts as he made his way into the room. A smile pulling at his lips, as he looked at the beautiful naked woman.

"I am so sorry about Bronn. I have told him to sleep outside the room." Tyrion continued. His brows furrowing, as (Y/n) made her way over to the bed. Her hand rubbing firmly at the muscles in her shoulder. Her face distorted slightly with a twinge of pain.

"I am not concerned with the comments of your fool. It would appear that he isn't intelligent enough to think of anything else to describe me as, but a female Sandor and a whore. And as I know that I am not whore, and am yet to meet this man, Sandor. I do not feel the need to be concerned by his insults. But thank you for having him leave." (Y/n) replied. Grunting slightly, as her hand obvious found something sore on her body.

"You are in pain?" Tyrion asked, as he closed the door behind him, and made his way to join (Y/n) on the bed.

"A little. Though it is nothing that I cannot deal with. Someone cannot fight as much as I have, without being injured in one way or another. And it is nothing worse than I have had to deal with previously." The fighter replied. Tyrion turning his eyes to the floor, as he pondered whether he should make his next offer.

"I........I could perhaps help if you would allow me." Tyrion told her. (Y/n) turning to look at him.

"If you think that it would help. I would greatly appreciate it." (Y/n) replied. Her brows furrowing, as the little man jumped from the bed, pulled his heavily embroidered jacket from his shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor before climbing back onto the bed and moving behind her. His hands coming to rest on her shoulders. (Y/n) unable to stop a deep guttural moan coming from her lips, as his fingers began to kneed at her flesh. The pain seeming to instantly alleviate as his hands moved over her skin.