This was a joke. He knew it.

His father was trying to humiliate him. Humiliate her. Choosing him a beautiful woman to marry by the end of the month. Her father had angered Tywin, and this was his punishment. His only child being married to the Imp of Casterly Rock.

But it was hard to remind himself that this betrothal was a punishment when he looked into your eyes. You were so kind, even when you had no reason to be. You stood tall when his father and sister sneered at you from across the room. You held Tyrion's hand and stroked his hair.

"You're so beautiful," Tyrion murmured, nestling his nose in the crook of your neck. He was the perfect height to lay on your chest when you sat together. The firelight flickered in the hearth, illuminating those eyes he loved so much.