"Why did the gods make incestuous creatures so beautiful and me a monster in people's eyes?" Tyrion Lannister thought as he observed the beauty of House Targaryen.
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Seeing the gigantic Titan of Braavos getting closer and closer, Tyrion felt completely insignificant, even more so than he usually did on a daily basis.
(Note: I had to make the joke, I couldn't help myself...)
Tyrion looked around, observing the ship he was on. As he represented a king, naturally the ship couldn't look sloppy. He was traveling on a new ship that had never touched the sea. Curiously, the ship's name was The Purity of the Princess.
"She's no longer a virgin." Tyrion joked in an amused tone, reflecting on the ship's name. However, as he looked at the guards following him, he couldn't help but let out a sigh. They were only young and immature, they had probably never seen blood in their lives.
The little Lion of House Lannister could imagine that, in battle, these young men wouldn't last more than a few minutes against experienced warriors. Each of them wore arrogant expressions, trying to appear calm in the face of the majestic and magnificent city they were approaching.
However, as they approached the city, Tyrion felt that he was getting close to a huge monster, ready to devour him at any moment.
If he wasn't careful, Braavos might become his tomb, something his father certainly expected. After all, if he died serving the realm, he would die an honorable death and finally become worthy in the eyes of all, no longer a stain on the glorious reputation of House Lannister.
"May the Seven help me, I still want to go back to King's Landing and visit all the brothels in that shit-stinking city at least once more in my life." Tyrion muttered to himself, preferring to be in the warm, soft arms of the whores of King's Landing than in that city that could become his tomb.
Letting out a sigh, Tyrion watched as the ship docked at the Port of Chequy, where customs officers were already prepared to inspect the vessel on the orders of the Sea Lord of Braavos.
In the eyes of the people, the Titan of Braavos was a marvel, but for Tyrion, the true splendor of that city lay in the Braavos Arsenal. There, war galleys could be built in a single day, a true masterpiece of Braavosi engineering.
Tyrion straightened his golden clothes and flashed his best smile, although for many it wasn't a pretty one.
Hoguir, wearing typical Braavos garb, climbed aboard, surrounded by guards carrying fine swords. His eyes quickly scanned the ship before settling on its probable owner.
A dwarf. A dwarf dressed in expensive clothes, bearing the crest of a Golden Lion.
Tyrion Lannister, the son of the Golden Lion of the Rock.
Hoguir came to the conclusion of Tyrion's identity in an instant.
As he gestured for the guards to begin their inspection of the ship, Hoguir approached Tyrion and asked directly the purpose of his visit.
"Why are you traveling to the city of Braavos?"
"The Iron Bank." Tyrion answered without any hesitation.
Hoguir gave Tyrion a deep look and spoke in a casual tone:
"If you and your men break the laws of Braavos, you'll be thrown into the dungeons, and your father will have to pay a lot of gold to get you out."
"It's more likely that he'll leave me to rot in the dungeons and simply forget I exist." Tyrion replied in an amused tone. Although it sounded like a joke, it was very possible that it would happen, his father would probably announce that he had died on the journey to Braavos.
Hoguir stared at the Imp for a moment, without replying. In silence, he waited for the guards to return from their inspection, which took no more than twenty minutes.
When one of the guards nodded, indicating that there was nothing wrong with the boat, Hoguir turned his gaze to the dwarf and said:
"Be careful what you do in Braavos."
Having said that, he set off with the guards, leaving Tyrion alone again.
"Prepare to leave." Tyrion ordered his own guards in a calm tone.
As Tyrion stepped off the boat, he saw a crowd in front of him and couldn't help thinking that it was going to be a long day.
As he made his way through the crowd, surrounded by his guards, he began to notice something strange: people were bumping into him more than usual. Looking around, his expression changed dramatically.
His guards were gone.
He was alone.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. His vision darkened and he fell unconscious. Before he completely lost consciousness, he felt the hot, dirty ground against his face as feet trampled over him. In his last remnants of consciousness, a single thought crossed his mind:
"I'm dead... Tysha... my wife... I miss you so much..."
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Tyrion awoke to the strong smell of musty wood.
Opening his eyes with difficulty, he found himself in a suspicious cellar, impregnated with the strong smell of fish. Looking around, he couldn't help thinking he was in the house of a fisherman or a fishmonger.
However, in the next second, he hissed in pain as he felt a throbbing blow to the back of his head. He tried to bring his hand to the spot, but realized that his wrists were bound.
Struggling to move, he finally managed to sit up and take a closer look at his surroundings.
What he saw made him breathe a sigh of relief.
As long as he was alive, it meant that his kidnappers wanted something from him. Whether it was gold or anything else, he didn't care, as long as he could get back to Westeros.
Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Soon, he saw a face he could never have expected in his entire life.
"Is that Barristan?" Tyrion asked, his voice filled with genuine confusion and disbelief.
Yes, standing before him was none other than Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold. A celebrated hero of the Kingsguard, from the time when these knights were still considered the strongest in the Seven Kingdoms.
"You seem to have woken up, Lord Tyrion." Barristan said, crouching down in front of the dwarf and helping him to drink water from a wooden bowl.
Tyrion drank desperately, feeling refreshed as he pushed the bowl away. Then, with a puzzled tone, he commented:
"I must say I'm surprised, Ser. I thought you were at Prince Targaryen's side at the moment."
Yes, Barristan had fled King's Landing in the first week of the rumors about Prince Targaryen. His departure caused shock and surprise, especially among the Kingsguard, who had lost their Lord Commander.
"I wanted to, but I couldn't go to my future king empty-handed." Barristan replied, dipping a piece of hard bread into the water and feeding it to Tyrion with a deep, serious look.
Tyrion ate the bread without hesitation, immediately understanding the old knight's intentions.
"You want to use me as a trophy for Prince Aenar... Perhaps to seek forgiveness for your sins and once again serve House Targaryen."
Barristan didn't deny it. He just nodded slightly and replied:
"You're right about forgiveness. But if he so wishes, I will die anyway." His tone was calm, as if death were nothing more than a trivial possibility.
Tyrion arched an eyebrow, trying to change his mind.
"Do you realize that your chances of dying are high? You let his father perish at Robert's hands. Queen Rhaella will demand your head for that."
"So I will die without fear." Barristan replied, serene, as if he had accepted his fate long ago. "If death comes at the hands of the son of the one I should have protected, my sins and my oath will be redeemed at last."
The old knight's blue eyes reflected an acceptance so profound that it shocked Tyrion. For the first time, he felt disgusted by Barristan Selmy's title "Daring".
That man could die with honor, a quick and clean death. But he, Tyrion Lannister, would die slowly and painfully.
Of that he had no doubt.
Queen Rhaella would not hesitate to tear him apart for all the pain House Lannister had inflicted on House Targaryen. Especially because of the deaths of Queen Elia and her children, Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys.
"Father, you really killed me..." Tyrion thought, letting out a bitter, helpless laugh.
Barristan, satisfied that he had given Tywin's son food and water, stood up and declared as calmly as ever:
"We'll be leaving for Volantis soon. I want to arrive before Prince Aenar's coronation."
Tyrion didn't reply. He just stared at the ceiling of the cellar, lost in thought.
'No!' he thought.
"I will try to live until the last breath is left in my lungs." He muttered to himself, regaining his confidence.
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