Tyrion's stomach ached as he felt the cold stone of the sky cell against his face.
He'd fallen asleep, but the angle of the floor had inched his body toward the cell's edge. Thank the gods he woke up when he did. It would have been a long fall to his death.
"!!!" Tyrion rolled away from the edge and crawled his way to the back of the cell, sitting against the wall in the corner opposite the cell door.
It was dark out, the night too cloudy for the moon to shine. Not even the stars could keep him company.
Alone and on an empty stomach, freezing his ass in a sky cell.
Tyrion sighed as he cursed his luck. A soft bed and two roast chickens awaited him at the Inn, but now he was in the Eryie, waiting for Lysa Arryn to decide his fate. . .
'I could sure do with some wine right now. Any vintage would do.'
Just as Tyrion thought this, he heard a commotion outside his cell door, followed by a thud against its thick metal.
And when those old heavy locks were undoing themselves, Tyrion fully expected Mord to come in and beat him again.
The door opened, and sure enough, there was Mord.
Despite the darkness, Tyrion had gotten well acquainted with that dungeon keeper's round frame. Tyrion flinched for a second, expecting Mord to come at him with his beating stick.
But instead, Mord fell to the ground, exposing Joe and Bronn, who had until then been hidden behind him.
"J-. ." Tyrion squinted at the candlelight held in Bronn's hand, "Joe, is that you?"
"I should bloody well hope so," teased Joe, holding up the wine with a smile, with cups wedged between his fingers, "Housekeeping?"
Tyrion felt a wave of gratitude swell over him, and a tear of joy was planning its escape, "Thank the gods."
"Give me a hand with the big fella, would you?"
Tyrion nodded and helped Joe drag Mord to the back of the cell and propped him up in the corner.
"There we are," Joe ho'd with one last heave, "That oughta do him."
The trio looked down at the passed-out Mord, sleeping soundly.
"Jeez, you think he'll be all right?" Joe asked.
"I've been knocking out lights since I was 9," assured Bronn, almost insulted at the question.
"You're the expert, I guess," Joe said before patting Tyrion on the back, "So, how're you holding? Figured you could use the company."
"And just when I was beginning to enjoy the peace and quiet," Tyrion said, the music in his voice beginning to return.
The three of them sat on the edge of the sky cell, their legs dangling as they gazed out with full wine cups in hand.
"Love what you've done with the place," joked Joe, sitting on the leftmost side, "Though the view is surprisingly shit."
Tyrion chuckled as he gazed out into the darkness. Just one gap through the clouds would have been enough to lighten the mood, but alas~
"Apologies," Tyrion said, sitting between Joe and Bronn, "Twas not expecting any visitors."
"How are the neighbours?"
"Non-existent, I'm afraid."
Bronn drew his cat-like smile, "At least now you don't have to worry about your landlord."
The three of them glanced back to confirm Mord was still snoozing.
"Haha," laughed Joe, "Mord, the Real Estate mogul. I'd pay good money to watch that spin-off. Going around auctions, beating his tenants for overdue rent. . . That shit would be a blast."
If only Joe had seen season 8 before he died in his past life. Then he'd know how amazing that idea sounded—
"Anyway," Joe said, raising his cup to the infinite sky, "What shall we drink to? Tits? Wine? Tits in our wine?
"How about wine from our tits?" Tyrion suggested.
Bronn shrugged, "Good enough for me."
The trio chinked their cups together a little too roughly, causing wine from each of them to fall down into the abyss.
"Mmm!" Tyrion happily hummed, "Delicious!"
"Haha, easy tiger," Joe said, "You haven't eaten anything. And you're. . ."
"Small?" Bronn finished.
"I was going to be politically correct and say 'more susceptible to the effects of alcohol, but yeah, you saved me a lot of time."
Bronn shook his head, "A few sieges with arrows rainin' down on you, and you'll be saving your words soon enough."
"Yes," said Tyrion, "A bloody business you find yourself in. Why don't you tell us more about yourself?"
"Oh no," dismissed Bronn, "You just need to know two things. One, I'm not your friend. And two, I'm good at killing people."
Joe rolled his eyes, "Three, never invite you to parties."
*CAW!*
It was then that the flap of wings could be heard approaching, and a white mass could be seen amidst the black of night.
"Oh?" Joe held out his finger, the White Raven landing gracefully, "Looks like I've got mail."
Joe carefully took the rolled message that was attached to the leg of the White Raven.
"Thank you, Roxanne," he said, scratching the raven under her chin, "Rest up. I'll find you something to eat in a bit."
"Fook me. . ," Bronn chuckled, "No wonder you're such a bird brain."
"Harty har," laughed Joe sarcastically, "Roxanne here is just a friend of mine. That's like me saying, 'no wonder you're so absent-minded', because, you know. ."
Joe playfully nudged Tyrion in the ribs, "Bronn has no friends."
Tyrion was midway through a sip of wine when he heard this, "Pff!" he sprayed, wiping his chin with a smile, "Now, now, we're all friends here."
"Speak for yourselves," Bronn quipped, "We're two little shits and a sell sword, as far as I'm concerned."
"I'm going to have to stop you right there," Joe replied with a raised hand, "If you took a shit my size, and then one that was Tyrion's. . , I'm pretty sure any dumb cunt would define them differently."
"Speaking as somewhat of a shit expert myself," added Tyrion, flashbacks of his time in Casterly Rock flowing to him, "I'd have to agree."
"Then why are you both the same pain in my arse?"
"Ah!" said Tyrion, suddenly remembering, "Speaking of asses, how was the saddle I designed? It looked dashing enough."
"Oh, that's right," replied Joe, feeling terrible for forgetting to thank Tyrion, "It's pretty amazing, thank you. Riding in style, as it were. Plenty of compartments to hold the gear of someone like myself."
As Joe said this, he finished reading the letter that Roxanne had delivered, "Hmmm," he happily hummed.
"Good tidings?" asked Tyrion, still amazed by Joe's relationship with animals.
"Indeed," said Joe, handing the letter to Tyrion, "Things are moving along well enough."
Tyrion took the letter with a puzzled expression. Joe had trusted him with babysitting the dragon egg, and now Joe was letting him read his secret White Raven letters.
Strange.
He searched his mind for how he earned such trust. But not wanting to seem unnatural, Tyrion continued casually, reading~
"I see," Tyrion said after he finished, "I wondered about your Shadowcat friend."
Tyrion motioned the letter to Bronn, to which the sell sword refused.
Tyrion and Joe took this for Bronn not being able to read, but something told them he was being cool as a cucumber.
"Had to leave him behind, I'm afraid," Joe said, "I planned on travelling south with you and bonding on a bro pilgrimage, but I got baited by whispering dreams~"
By now, Joe had extracted Lady Catelyn for information.
He knew about her three-eyed crow dream in Winterfell. Add that with Bloodraven urging Joe to visit him up north, and it wasn't hard to smell something funky going on.
['Bloodraven. . . I should have killed you.']