m_findlow

Title: Family duty
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters:
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 500 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Bingo Card Prompt - Imp at fffc
Summary: Tyrion knows his place and it bothers not not in the least.

Tyrion ignored the looks from his brother and sister as he came to sit at the table in the great hall of Winterfell, putting in his order for breakfast. There was nothing like starting a morning with a woman wrapped around his most valued piece of anatomy, followed by a hearty meal of blackened bacon and stout ale. For all their brutish tendencies, or at least those that were shared around the ale houses of King's Landing, Tyrion was quite enjoying the North and all it had to offer. The woman were more stocky than pretty, but each of them knew precisely how to entertain a man.

'I must say,' he began, chewing on a heel of fresh baked bread, still able to taste the smokiness from the ovens lingering on its crust, 'that the whores of Winterfell are exceptionally good. I suppose it comes from being skilled in eliciting a reaction from northern men who have neither personality nor a sense of humor.'

Myrcella giggled slightly and Cersei frowned at her reaction. 'Finish your orange and go see if Sansa would like to play with you.'

'Yes, mother,' she obediently replied, slipping the final segment into her mouth and delicately wiping her hands on her napkin before leaving.

'Tommen, you as well,' she instructed. He followed his sister out of then hall, but not without snaffling a final rasher of bacon to take with him. As soon as both were out of earshot, she twirled on her younger brother. 'Must you be so crass and vulgar?'

Tyrion gave her a wicked little smile as he sipped the thick black ale. 'But I'm the Imp, sweet sister. People expect a vulgar little creature with three legs and a hideous face. I'm only living up to what is expected of me. Jaime is the glorious hero and Kingsguard, you are the beautiful prize hanging from the King's arm. What is left for poor little me?'

Cersei turned her ire from Tyrion to her brother Jaime. 'Surely you must be able to imbue some sense of respectibility into our little brother.'

Jaime leaned back and sipped his own ale. 'Why, I was the one who bought him those whores,' he confessed. 'It's good to see that my gifts are so appreciated.'

'Why do you encourage him?'

'Speak about as if I'm not even here,' Tyrion said, mouth watering as trying plate of bacon finally arrived. He shoved a whole rasher in his mouth and relished the bitter charcoal coating the salty meat within. 'You do realise Father has absolutely no expectations for me, don't you?'

'And you find that kind of existence appealing?'

Tyrion smirked. 'Who am I to argue with our illustrious patriarch? Someone in this family has to be the black sheep, and since nothing you do will ever be noticed by our dear Father, it falls to me to carry the family burden.'

Cersei paused momentarily before sipping from her wine. 'I'm sure I don't know what you mean.'