There were days that Tyrion did quite resent the forced marriage, but even through as much he saw some semblance of good. He could keep an eye on her, not in any manner of spying or harm, but more in keeping her safer perhaps. Though, deep in his heart he knew that she would never truly trust him and he did not fault her for it — given all his family had done to her and her family? He deserved her rage, he deserved her mistrust much as he craved it not to be so.
He had been sitting by his window which had cast odd shadows on marred features with dying light when heard her rapping upon his door. With a gentle tone, the one he preferred to use with her and as time had passed? Only her.
❝It does, doesn’t it?❞ He mused with a vague smile, he would voice his surprise that she had come to actually sup with him this eve, but he would not complain of her company. Her company was something of a blessing against that of his sister or her children. The only other to offer him such comfort at a dining table was his brother Jaime.
❝You look lovely, my dear lady,❞ his compliment was honest as he moved to sit with a soft gesture for her to join him.
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
As her gaze flits over the array of food spread over the table, she spots a few of her favorites, some of them well-known, and others not quite. She keeps so many things so close to her chest now it’s a wonder she has not let something slip till now.
{ But everyone’s a liar here, and everyone’s better than her therefore to not speak would be to not expose a weakness, right? }
“Thank you, my lord. You are as charming as ever.” There is a certain coolness to her words, a habit, a skin she has yet to remember and shed when she walks in through the door. Yet, her eyes are the first to thaw, a shallow pool of warmth in them like the hot springs of winterfell as she catches his gaze before busying herself with pouring him his drink.
She plays the part well, serving him his goblet, letting him pick at the meats first; she is the ever dutiful wife, she is lady lannister. Picking at a small cherry tomato, she bites into it, not really seeing anything before quite abruptly speaking up. “I hope your day fared well, my lord.”