The first time Tyrion Lannister regained some awareness the agony in his chest nearly overwhelmed him. Every breath hurt as his green eyes tried desperately to focus. He wasn't alone though, there was a Maester watching him and someone else.
'Where am I?' he wondered.
It didn't look like his room, but his thoughts were too muddled to pay it much attention. His view of the room was blocked as the other person loomed over him. Despite her golden hair, and green eyes it took Tyrion a moment to place her. It was the Queen. His sister. Why was she here? His whole body seemed to throb as his memory rushed back in pieces. The baby. Joffrey. Ser Meryn.
Cersei was staring down at him, with an odd expression on her face.
"Am I still the handsome brother?" Tyrion wheezed, feeling his ribs protest the motion
It could have been the pain, but Tyrion was certain the corner of Cersei's mouth twitched before she spoke.
"He's clearly delusional. Put him to sleep, Maester"
Creylen need not have bothered as the pulsing agony in his body was pulling Tyrion under again. He barely registered the Maester leaning over him with milk of the poppy.
The next time Tyrion woke he was in a different room again and found himself alone. He had so many questions; he wanted to know what was going on. Yet Tyrion felt so weak and his thoughts seemed to drift from him before he could form them properly. Clumsily he tried to push himself up but a wave of agony shot through him as he collapsed back onto the bed. Breathing hurt; moving hurt. His left arm throbbed and he found it was secured in a sling, preventing him from using the limb. His ribs ached fiercely too, but there was something else. He didn't feel right. Why was it so hot in here?
'Focus' he thought in frustration
His right hand ached terribly. Drawing the limb up to his face, Tyrion noted how red his fingers were poking out beneath the bandages. The bandages were so tight and they were coloured a bright Lannister red. He really didn't feel well now. Everything ached. What did he do to deserve this pain?
Tyrion had only wanted to protect his nephew.
The unfamiliar room floated around him and a sense of loneliness overwhelmed him. Had he been left here to die? Tyrion had always felt alone - it was fitting to die as he lived.
"The wound in his hand cut deeply, your Grace. I stitched it to the best of my ability, but even a small bit of dirt could have started the infection"
"I do not blame you, Maester, I watched your work and it was exemplary. Now I need you to fix him"
"The infection is spreading, it will be difficult to fix. Safer to take the hand"
Cersei's eyes hadn't left her little brother as the Maester examined his badly infected right hand. He looked so pitiful shivering on the bed despite the sweat dripping from him.
"No" Cersei said with force "what else can you do?"
Creylen examined the swollen hand with a grimace "I would have to reopen the wound, remove all of the infection with a blade and then cauterise the wound closed"
"Cauterise?" Cersei questioned
"Heat a blade to seal the wound"
"There is nothing else?"
"I'm sorry, your Grace. This is the only way to save his hand"
Anger burned through Cersei "Very well. Make your preparations, Maester. I assume this will hurt him?"
"Very much, I'm afraid. He will need to be held down, and I need someone to heat the blade while I work on the wound"
"As you say" said Cersei, turning towards the door
She wretched the door open and wasn't surprised to find the strange boy that squired for her brother waiting outside. The fool hadn't left his post outside the door for days.
"Get in. We need your help"
Podrick scrambled through the door and Cersei watched his face crumble at the sight of Tyrion.
"My lord?" he questioned softly, gaining no response
"Maester, the boy will heat the knife for you. Tell him what you need" said Cersei, pushing Pod towards the hearth
Creylen quickly relayed his instructions to Pod who hurried to his post, glancing anxiously at the bed every few seconds.
"I assume I cannot convince you to leave" said Creylen, pulling Tyrion's hand to the side in preparation
"No, you can't" answered Cersei, climbing on to the bed beside her brother. His short limbs made it difficult but she eventually pinned his right arm beneath her, giving Creylen access to the hand as she forced Tyrion's sweaty head into the pillow.
'This could be your son' a dark voice whispered in her head and Cersei tried hard to shake the image from her mind. Her children were safe. They would be safe from Joffrey - he was in the black cells. He couldn't hurt his siblings like this.
"I'm sorry, little brother" she whispered as Creylen started to cut into his hand.
Tyrion was burning, or maybe he was drowning. Either way he was going to die. He wasn't entirely sure where he was. One moment he was in the Eyrie falling from a sky cell and plummeting to his death. The next he was in a tent, candles casting a soft glow to the space as he lay in bed. Everything hurt so much, but he was used to it now.
"What is wrong, my lion?" asked Shae stroking his face. Oh, how he missed Shae. It had broken his heart to send her away, but after a few weeks in Kings Landing he couldn't live with the risk any longer.
'I wonder if she'll weep for me when I die' he thought idly. Had he asked her that before?
"You'll be dead. How will you know?" sang her voice in his mind. He had asked her - before his Father sent him into battle. He wished Shae was here now. He didn't want to die alone, even if he had to pay someone to hold his hand.
His vision of Shae evaporated as agony ripped through his right arm.
'Stop! Please stop' his mind screamed.
Tyrion couldn't move and the pain was only getting worse. He wasn't brave like Jamie. His big brother would probably be laughing death in the face, looking heroic and handsome as he did it. Why couldn't he move? Panic seized him as he realised someone was holding him down.
Tyrion's mind flashed back to the enraged face of Ser Meryn looking down at him as Joffrey gave him orders. Break this. Punch him again. Harder. Tyrion fought and struggled but he was too weak and was forced to endure the punishment. King Joffrey knelt beside him a dagger gleaming in his hands.
"I'm going to enjoy this, Uncle" whispered his sadistic nephew, plunging his dagger into Tyrion
"Do not disappoint me more than you already have" warned Tywin Lannister. His Father stood to the side of Meryn Trant observing the scene.
Why were they doing this? Why would no-one help him? He was a Lannister too. The scene dissolved before him as something warm tickled his hand. It wasn't warm though - it was burning.
Tyrion's eyes shot open and the smell of burning flesh assaulted him. He couldn't move his hand and someone was screaming. A woman was leaning over him forcing his head into the pillow. He thought she was saying something to him but his mind couldn't focus. At first he thought it was Shae but that wasn't right. He'd sent her away and this woman had golden hair. She looked upset.
'She looks like my sister' he thought 'but that's not right. Cersei hates me'
"Tyrion, it's ok. You'll be ok" the woman begged "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry"
There was so much going on it took Tyrion time to realise he was the one screaming.
The woman was trying to calm him and he was sure there were tears on her cheeks. Darkness crept into his vision once again and all Tyrion could think about was the woman. She looked exactly like his sister. It couldn't be Cersei - she was a lion. She wouldn't cry. Not over him.