Kapitel 34: Chapter 34
Tiresias secured the tomes in the trunk, before draping it with burlap. It may have been summer, but when he would travel through the Riverlands and into the North, a quick rain would ruin the precious pages.
The North…his hands paused as he considered that. It had been some time since he was home. He almost didn't want to think about it. Riding straight to Winterfell, fully intending not to get sidetracked. Not that he expected to. What delays could he possibly encounter on his way?
Then again, he never meant to go to King's Landing, to the Westerlands and onto Casterly Rock. Perhaps he would never return, forever distracted...
Shaking his head, he tied the burlap down. There was no one else to return these tomes. What other excursion could he possibly have after this? When would he next come down south? What could take him out of the North again so soon?
Who knows? You've changed quite a bit with your actions down here, mate. You're no longer anonymous. The powers that be might really start to dig their claws in.
He returned to his room, arms swinging freely. It hadn't yet been a fortnight since the splint was removed and he still savored having his arm back. He was lucky, he knew that. Damn lucky. If that maester hadn't been there in Deep Den…
Well, he was. And because of it, Tiresias was able to use both of his arms to pack his belongings. He wasn't leaving until the day after tomorrow but he couldn't wait. Even with as little as he had to pack. It felt better to get it done.
Even the sobering distance to Winterfell couldn't douse his excitement. He had calculated the trek, moving his fingers along the map in the library. It was nearly eighteen hundred miles of wagon travel to the Stark homestead. If he made the journey in two months, he'd consider himself lucky.
Maybe that's why he packed early. Perhaps he could trick himself into believing he was closer to Winterfell if he was all ready to go home. To the Starks. To the library and the cool winds. To Mal…
There was a knock on the door, tearing his thoughts away from a pair of brown eyes.
"Come in," he called, turning to see his guest. "Lord Tyrion."
"Tiresias, my friend with two good hands. Packing already?"
Tyrion came to a halt besides him. His clothes were different, with a traveling cape and his coin pouch was considerably larger.
Tiresias turned back to his rucksack and strapped it shut.
"Aye. Already done though. Didn't carry much in. Won't be the case when I leave though. I have your father to thank for that." He eyed Tyrion. "And you too, I suppose?"
"I suggested to my dear father that they would make a good parting gift…and give some credence to the tale that you were invited and didn't come here under any compulsion."
"It's no tale, my lord," said Tiresias lightly. "It's what happened. So sayeth Lord Tywin."
Tyrion smirked. "Of course. I do hope it is enough though."
He shrugged. "Well, I won't lie. They will slow me down. The wagon adds at least a fortnight to my journey." He sighed. "But it is very generous. I'm very pleased and I look forward to digging into them further when I'm back at Winterfell. So thank you. I mean it, Tyrion. Thank you."
Tyrion waved that away. "They were abandoned for generations. I'm glad they'll find fresh eyes up north."
Tiresias crossed to the dresser and placed his rucksack neatly beside it. With that, he was all set to leave in two days time.
He turned back to his host. "So…how can I help you? Can't imagine you came here to watch me finish packing."
"Do you have to shit?"
Tiresias blinked. "'Cuse me?"
"We're leaving. And though it's a short ride, the latrines aren't nearly as clean as they are here. So I ask again, do you have…"
"No," Tiresias cut across him, staring at Tyrion. "I don't have to, I mean…where are we going?"
Tyrion clapped his arm. "Lannisport."
Tiresias felt his face dull. Impromptu trips had that effect on him. "Why?"
"Why?" Tyrion crossed the food, gesturing out the window. "Why because of all the splendid things that are in Lannisport. Boats, food, wine, women. But that…"
He pointed a finger at Tiresias. "That is the wrong question, my friend. The real question is: who isn't in Lannisport?"
There was such a glee in Tyrion's eyes.
Tiresias sighed. "Your father."
"That's right! You're very good at this." He patted Tiresias arm again and walked back to the door. "Right then, come on! Only delay I'll allow you is to fetch your cloak. Other than that…"
Tyrion paused when he realized that Tiresias wasn't following him. He turned to see the librarian standing stock still. He sighed.
"Tiresias, it will be fun. Come on, you've been stuck in the Rock for six weeks!"
Tiresias shrugged. "Pretty large place to be stuck."
The dwarf walked back to him. "The library will be here tomorrow when you return. So will my father and everything else. Come on, when will you ever see Lannisport again?"
If I'm lucky enough to even leave the Westerlands...
Tiresias didn't voice that thought. But it did inspire some other considerations. He didn't truly know his future or the status of his freedom. Might as well take what liberties he could. When he could.
He grinned and nodded.
"Excellent," said Tyrion, returning his grin. They set off along the corridor. "If we get there soon, perhaps we could go out sailing for an hour or two. Come back to shore for an early dinner, prepare ourselves for the evening. Have you ever tried plum spirits?"
Tyrion sprouted ideas for the rest of the walk to the stables. After they mounted and proceeded out of the Rock with his guard in tow, it morphed into tales of Lannisport itself. How it was the largest settlement in the Westerlands; where the Goldroad, the Riverroad and the Oceanroad all met. Upon a subtle inquiry from Tiresias, or at least he hoped subtle, he spoke of the Greyjoy attack. How it was actually the third time the Iron Islands had burned Lannisport; though they've raided dozens of times before. However not during Tywin's rule.
On a lighter note, he spoke of King Loreon Lannister the Fifth, who snuck down to Lannisport after dark in disguise. In women's clothing, to wander the docks as a whore.
Tiresias turned to Tyrion as they rode. "Is that true?"
"Apparently so. He became known as Queen Lorea."
As much as he wanted to, Tiresias couldn't resist. "Did he make any coin?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"What, as a whore?" Tyrion shrugged. "Well, I can't speak for how pretty he was."
He turned and met Tiresia's eyes.
"But, I suppose a common man would pay well to have a King's cunt for a night."
He spoke blithely enough. Tiresias turned back to the road. "I can't imagine your father holding onto that bit of family history."
Tyrion laughed. "Well, I'm not my father. I hold no contempt in my heart for Queen Lorea and I'm not ashamed to be her descendant. After all, ofttimes I hold whores in higher esteem than kings."
They came onto the Goldroad and quickly entered the gates of Lannisport. The taste of sea salt only intensified as they rode through the town and onto the harbor.
After depositing their mounts at the harborside stables, Tyrion led them to the piers. Tiresias followed closely with the guards, letting his arm swing free. He rolled his sleeves up and felt the breeze brush across his arm hair.
He couldn't help grinning. God, he missed having his arm.
"Where are we going?" he called after Tyrion, as they descended the piers.
"Where do people usually go when they walk onto a dock?" Tyrion called back, not looking back. "We need to pass the day. The girls aren't awake yet."
Tiresias didn't ask for clarification. He didn't need it. It was a headache for later. For now, Tyrion's first item on his itinerary was a sail. An old man with a worn, trusty dinghy waved and bowed to Tyrion, greeting him with some familiarity.
Twenty minutes later, they were lazily floating outside the harbor, Tyrion, his guards and him. They stayed out of range of the merchant ships that came in and out. Tiresias sat on the bow, savoring the wind. He couldn't get enough of it. If he closed his eyes, he could remember how it felt sailing with Clark's father.
Clark's father…why did I think it like that…
Thankfully that thought was interrupted by lunch. The guards dropped a basket they've been carrying from the Rock. It had enough cheese, fresh bread and sausage to feed a crew twice their size. Tyrion commanded the guards to relax as he poured the wine.
"Come now, who would attack me now?" He gestured to the open water before filling Tiresias' cup. It was a good point, though Tiresias did remember Lord Tyrion being assaulted halfway across the world in another sailing vessel.
There's no stone men here though.
They all ate merrily. Being on the water increased a man's appetite. Or at least, being on a leisure cruise. Though, Tyrion did warn him not to eat too much.
When asked why, he merely clasped Tiresias' shoulder. "It's a surprise. I'll only say this…you'll have jewels of the sea tonight."
They stayed out on the water for a few more hours, pissing off the side whenever the wine flowed too freely. Tiresias stuck to his waterskin mostly. However, Tyrion didn't seem too affected. By the time, the dinghy had docked again in the early evening, they had only eaten a third of their food. The guards didn't pick up the remains however. Tyrion instructed them to leave it for the captain and his family.
The old captain thanked Tyrion profusely as he shook the lord's hand. Tiresias caught the glint of gold pass between them before they proceeded back. He was mildly impressed that Tyrion didn't stumble as they walked back up the pier. He couldn't say the same for the guards, though he supposed they had some time to sober up before they rode back to Casterly Rock.
They did continue to keep a close watch though as Tyrion led Tiresias to their next adventure. They walked for all of five hundred feet before Tyrion turned into an establishment on the waterfront. Frying oils, spices and salts hit his nose and his eyes watered.
"And this?" he asked, blinking away some tears, following the lord to an empty table.
Tyrion gestured for him to sit, their open window facing the harbor. He looked over the side to see the water.
"These, my friend," said Tyrion as a serving girl set down a platter before them. "…are the jewels of the sea."
He gazed down to see a dozen raw oysters. A laugh escaped from him before he could help it.
"What?" asked Tyrion.
"Do you even need these?" His shoulders shook with laughter. Maybe the wine had affected him more than he realized.
Tyrion joined in with his own laughter. "Of course, I do! I'm only human and I have drunk quite a bit of wine. I need all the help I can get!"
He picked up an oyster. "Come now. You must prepare yourself. The girls are readying themselves as we speak."
Not bothering to protest the sentiment yet, Tiresias picked up an oyster warily. Even in his old world, he was hesitant to consume them. If he got a parasite in Westeros, he was due for some misery.
"Have you never slurped an oyster before?" asked Tyrion.
The shell was cool to the touch. He sniffed it covertly. Smelled fine actually. Smelled like the ocean breeze they had enjoyed for hours beforehand…
Fuck it.
He slurped the oyster, tossing the shell down.
"That's the spirit," cheered Tyrion, before slurping his own shell. They worked their way around the dozen. After washing down the salty delicacies with a dry red wine that reminded Tiresias of sherry, the serving girl brought them prawn and salmon pie, with fresh bread to soak up the fish stock afterwards.
Afterwards they sat back and digested the food with another cup of wine…well, Tyrion was on his fourth cup. Tiresias merely sipped his. The serving girl returned for payment and he reached for his coin.
"Take your fucking hand off your purse," murmured Tyrion, pushing himself off the wall and reaching for his own coin pouch.
Tiresias stared. "My lord, I've been your guest for near a month and a half. I'm sure I've eaten more than my worth. Let me…"
"You are still my guest," Tyrion stated, passing coins to the girl before standing. "And as such…you spending any of your own coin is an insult to me. And to House Lannister."
He spoke pompously. With his hand on the table for balance, he leaned toward Tiresias, who remained seated.
"Do you wish to insult House Lannister?" he muttered.
Tiresias shrugged, meeting his eyes. "Depends on the Lannister."
Tyrion considered this, before nodding. "Fair point. Nevertheless, you will not touch your purse until you're riding away from the Rock. Agreed?"
Well, don't twist my arm. "Agreed."
His face twisting into a grin, Tyrion turned, calling as he walked away. "Then, come! Our final destination awaits."
Tiresias stood, sighing to himself. He didn't know if he found it amusing that Tyrion spoke so obliquely of this destination. As though the man hadn't been dropping hard hints and blatant admissions all day.
And sure enough, against the setting sun, he proceeded with Tyrion and his guard toward the brothel. He heard the laughter and smelled the sex before they turned the corner into a cul-de-sac that faced the sea. A large house stood at the end with a rooftop balcony.
He turned to Tyrion. "You do realize that I was prescribed no strenuous activity by Maester Creylen?"
"If Maester Creylen prescribes fucking as a strenuous activity, he has a limited imagination." He clapped Tiresias on the arm. "Come on, no man's ever injured his arm having his cock sucked. And if it gets too much, go to the roof. I wrote ahead and had delicacies and refreshments ordered for us in-between."
Further protests died on Tiresias' tongue as they entered the establishment, with two of the guards remaining outside. The madam greeted Tyrion with more familiarity than the dinghy captain or the serving maid. She laughed as Tyrion kissed her offered hand, turning her gaze toward Tiresias.
"And hello there. Who's your handsome friend, m'lord?"
Tyrion gestured to him, grinning. "A warrior of great renown!"
"Tyrion…" he muttered, almost growling.
Tyrion raised his arms. "Fine, fine…" he said, turning back to the madam. "Just a quiet scholar. Very shy. Best find a gentle one for him."
She smiled and approached him. "I'm sure we have a woman who'd suit you fine, love. Warrior and scholar both."
Linking her arm through his, she led them to the parlor, the two remaining guards taking up posts at opposite ends. Tiresias focused on not wrinkling his nose at all the perfumes. It seemed to drip off the walls. He blinked and Tyrion was gone, disappearing quickly into a room under a mess of silk and skin.
He blinked again to feel another arm replace the madams. Tiresias turned to see a lovely girl with sun-kissed skin and a very practiced smile. She didn't say a word and he allowed her to lead him up the stairs. As she came to the second floor though, he gently extracted his arm from her and made to continue onto the roof.
"My lord." He paused, turning back to see her. She stood in the corridor, still with that smile. "My room's down this way."
He scratched his ear. "Did you already receive your coin, miss?"
"I did."
"Then consider it the easiest coin you ever made your whole life." He gestured toward the stairs. "I'm going to enjoy the view."
She came toward him. "Are you sure, my lord? The view will still be there when we're done."
"I'm sure. Thank you."
He made to turn again when he felt her gentle hand on his arm, stilling him.
Her tone lowered. "Are you not interested in girls, my Lord?"
There was no judgment in her tone, Tiresias had to give her that. Still, he remained mum. Over his entire stay at Casterly Rock, he hadn't mentioned Mal to anyone. He had no desire to bring attention to her. And though this girl seemed sweet, he didn't want it coming back to Tyrion. Then possibly to Tywin.
"If you're not," she continued to speak softly. "There's a lad here. Very sweet and handsome. He's…"
"It's not that," said Tiresias. "I'm just tired and…"
He sighed, running his fingers over his short hair.
"What?" asked the girl.
"The view might be there still, but I'll be gone soon. Might be a long time before I see the sea again. I'll still have a fair chance to see pretty young women, though…" He nodded to her, unable to help his small grin. "None as pretty as you, I'm sure."
The girl snorted, but she still smiled and let go of his arm. Nodding politely, he turned and proceeded up the stairs.
The rooftop provided a lovely view of the harbor, along with two lounge chairs and a table in-between stocked with a covered tray and a few pitchers. He walked past the refreshments to the railing and stared out. Not quite the grand sweep from his room in the Rock, but somehow he preferred this view. From here, Lannisport reminded him of another town from his previous life. He struggled to remember the name as the sun sank into the west.
His breaths synchronized with the waves crashing gently into the seawall. He proceeded to the lounge chair. A great peace settled in him and he closed his eyes, lying on the lounge. Even the sounds of the whorehouse below faded for him.
It couldn't have been much later when he opened his eyes. The sky was purple in the dusk. Rousing himself, he lit a brazier and lifted the tray besides him. Plates of dates, olives, grapes and almonds greeted him. Along with a few pitchers. Passing over the wine, he poured himself a goblet of water with lemon squeeze and drank deeply.
It tasted as fresh as it did in Bodrum.
Now the name rose from his memory with no effort. Bodrum. That was the sea town in Turkey…though Clark got there by bus. Not by horse.
He laughed at the thought. That would have been quite a ride.
His musings were interrupted by a set of footsteps coming up the stairs and onto the deck. The movement was slightly staggered, intoxicated. He refilled his cup and raised it as Tyrion fell onto the lounge beside him. The lord took a moment to situate himself before peering over to his guest.
"Have you been up here the whole time?"
Tireisas answered with a sip.
Tyrion sighed. "Honestly, my friend…I go to such trouble to bring you to this delightful place…and you merely want…you merely want to gaze out upon the sea…"
"Sorry to make you suffer," Tiresias gibed, before sighing himself. "It's a lovely sea. The North has whores, like everywhere else. But there's no sea in Winterfell. I'll miss this more than anything when I leave."
He turned to Tyrion. "Besides they seem to have their arms full with you. Are you quite sated?"
Tyrion stretched out. He had finally hit his limit and was going over. His eyes glazed over, he managed to reach the pitcher and helped himself to the wine there.
"Not quite," he mumbled. "I'm only here to regain my strength…catch my breath." He sipped and his sigh after came out as a hiss. "Though, I admit…I believe I drank too much. We may have to sleep here tonight…would that offend you?
Tiresias shrugged. "I've had worse accommodations."
Tyrion waved his goblet toward him and Tiresias met it with a clink. They didn't toast, just drank silently.
"And like I said, it's a lovely view here anyway," said Tiresias.
"Yes…" said Tyrion, as he stepped off the lounge. He stomped over the table and popped a date in his mouth. His eyes went to the north.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?" he mumbled with his mouth full of fruit, gesturing with his wine.
Tiresias followed his gesture. The outline of Casterly Rock was quite visible, despite the increasing darkness. Torchlight dotted the castle. One didn't need Tiresias' sight to make it out.
Not quite the lion in shape…still a damn impressive castle.
He chewed an almond. "I told your father you would make an excellent Warden someday."
A brief silence filled the rooftop, as Tyrion met his eyes. Then he burst into laughter. Tiresias didn't return it.
"Well," said Tyrion, wiping his eyes. "I'm surprised you're still here. My father's had men thrown out for saying less…however, that was very kind of you. And I…I thank you."
He stumbled back to the lounge and sat down, his eyes coming back to the distant castle. Staring, he went back into silence.
Tiresias gave him a few beats before speaking. "What are you doing?"
"Getting one last look." He turned to Tiresias, smiling forlornly. "Your eminent departure had inspired my own. I already intended...to leave for King's Landing one day. Now…I plan to depart the same morning as you."
"You sure about that?" Tiresias took a sip of his lemon-water. "It smells better here than it does in King's Landing."
"My father is here," Tyrion murmured, his gaze still on the Rock. It remained until he blithely shrugged and tipped his goblet upwards.
"Though, I suppose…if he had his way…" He refilled his goblet. "He…would be in King's Landing now. Perched in the Hand's tower. He was once the Hand of the King…did you know that?"
"To Aerys Targaryen," Tiresias said softly, his eyes on his cup. "For how long? Twenty years?"
"Nineteen," responded Tyrion, grinning slightly. "Doesn't sound quite as poetic as twenty, does it?"
"Still a respectable number."
"Indeed. Well, in any case…he would relish going back. Still able to climb the tower steps. Age hasn't sapped his strength. He would occupy the Tower. He'd dismiss my brother…send Jaime back here to be Warden…"
"And you would go to the Wall." Tiresias waited a beat before meeting Tyrion's eyes. "If he had his way."
The lord's smile had disappeared, but he didn't look angry. He pondered the thought for a moment before shrugging. "Perhaps…but I would have to do something very naughty. Though…it would protect me from Joffrey, when that repulsive little shit mounts the Iron Throne."
He sat back on the lounge, staring at Tiresias. "Tell me, how are the girls in the North?"
They have brown eyes and a testing patience…
Tiresias shrugged. "Warm. Tough. But the Night's Watch doesn't allow women."
"Well then, I shall have to visit and taste them myself before it's too late…before my father throws me in the black. I could visit you in Winterfell! I'm sure there's a brothel nearby…able to warm those killing, scholarly hands of yours."
He didn't rise to the bait. "If you come up, I'll point you in the right direction and wish you a merry time." Grinning, he raised his cup.
Tyrion frowned dramatically. "You wouldn't join me?"
Tiresias didn't deign to answer that, opting instead to pop an olive in his mouth. Sounds of a sea town filled the air; waves, the breeze, a song from a tavern nearby…even over the low moans from below, cicadas sang, celebrating the encroaching darkness.
He turned back to spit out the pit, and saw Tyrion was continuing to stare. Finally the lord jumped up and grabbed the lounge chair.
"Well," he said, pulling the chair closer to the table. "You will join me in this."
"What you do mean?" asked Tiresias warily.
"I'm making good on a promise." Tyrion grabbed his goblet and refilled it. "We've only drunk together...I told you we would get drunk together. A Lannister always pays his debts."
"No."
"Yes," said Tyrion, some semblance of sobriety returning to his eyes. "Your arm is healed. You can manage a drunken stumble…we'll sleep here, have the whole of tomorrow to recover. Your travel will not be impeded and I…will have truly gotten to know my new friend. Now pour out that lemon piss and let me give you a real drink."
Tyrion raised the pitcher but Tiresias withheld his cup, trying to match the lord in his drunken determination.
Your rule, Tiresias. You can't let anything slip. It's too risky.
Lowering the pitcher, but only slightly, Tyrion grinned.
"How about a game then? To truly get to know one other?"
Tiresias could feel his heartbeat in his ears.
If you're about to say what I think you're going to say, the gods must have a great sense of humor…
"It's a drinking game. A marvelous game. Here's how it works. I look into your soul…or your eyes if you prefer and I make a statement about your past. If I'm right, you drink. If I'm wrong…I drink."
Son of a bitch…
"And no lying!" said Tyrion, looking very serious. "I'll know if you're lying."
Tiresias' eyes fell to the floor. He had no intention of being caught in a lie. Of drinking to oblivion. It was an idiot idea. But when he looked back up, it seemed so enticing as well. And Tyrion was still there, waiting for his answer.
"Don't make me invoke my lordly privilege," said Tyrion. "Come on. It will be such fun."
He should say no. Reject the game. He had his rule. Not to let anything slip…
But a new thought countered that rationale. A simple and powerful thought.
Fuck it. Be careful…but fuck it.
He lifted his goblet and gulped the rest of his water before holding out his goblet for the refill.
"Excellent!" said Tyrion, pouring wine deftly into his cup. "Come on, sit up! This only works if I stare into your eyes."
Tiresias pushed off from the lounge, keeping his cup steady. He planted his feet on the floor and faced Tyrion, who was refilling his own goblet.
"Now," said the lord, placing the pitcher down and facing Tiresias. "I'll begin."
Tiresias had to keep himself from laughing. The concentration, the piercing stare; it was all there. Directed at him. He knew he should be wary, but he wasn't.
You're truly a fool, Tiresias.
Tyrion pointed to him. "You have a dead sister."
After a beat of meeting his eyes, Tiresias lifted his wine and drank.
It's as good as true. Everyone's dead to me in that world. And I'm probably dead to them…
He lowered his cup to see Tyrion refocused.
"You've killed more than one man before Ser Gregor."
Realizing that any hesitation revealed more than he wanted, Tiresias brought his goblet up immediately and drank. He popped an almond in his mouth afterwards, chewing as Tyrion stared.
"You were on the losing side of a war and you fled Essos to escape the victors."
Tiresias shook his head. Tyrion frowned as he drank, hissing through his teeth as he exhaled. Tiresias felt himself becoming more and more still.
Tyrion pointed. "You have a Northern wife in Winterfell."
"That's a question about my present, not my past."
"Fine. You married a Northern girl."
"Drink."
Tyrion didn't seem discouraged as he drank. He didn't like the look in the lord's eye.
Shouldn't have been that defensive.
"You have a Northern woman in Winterfell."
Not yet. "Drink."
The lord did so quickly. "You're interested in a Northern woman in Winterfell."
Resisting the urge to glance over the cliffs of Casterly Rock, Tiresias lifted his goblet. The wine tasted sour to him.
Tyrion smirked as he held out the pitcher. "I hope it goes well for you, my friend."
"Aye, me too." He let Tyrion refill his goblet before sitting back. "I think it's my turn now."
The lord nodded dramatically. "Very well. Proceed."
Tiresias met his eyes easily. "You fucked a woman from Dorne."
Tyrion sighed before drinking.
"You fucked a woman from the Reach."
"That is near cheating," protested Tyrion, though a mild grin fought onto his face. "All right, fine." He drank and refilled his goblet.
"But please…be a bit more creative."
"All right." Tiresias leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You once masturbated into a soup that you let your sister eat."
There was a silent stare between the two of them. Finally Tyrion couldn't hold it any longer and burst out laughing.
"That's a wonderful idea," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Drink, you vile man. Drink."
Guess he exaggerated a bit in the Eyrie, Tiresias mused as he drank. He was almost glad that bit wasn't true.
He faced Tyrion again. "You…"
He hesitated. Should he? Should he not?
Tyrion raised his eyebrows. "Yes…go on."
Tiresias took a breath. "You cried as a child when you learned there were no more dragons in the world."
Whatever Tyrion was expecting, it wasn't that. His eyebrows remained raised as he regarded Tiresias. Finally he lifted his goblet and drank.
"I haven't thought about that in years…" he muttered, still staring at Tiresias. "How'd you…how'd you know about that?"
Tiresias popped a date from the tray, chewing it slowly. "Peasant children cry when they can't get dogs. Highborn children cry when they can't get more expensive pets. You…I can only imagine you in your books, looking at the pictures and seeing a dragon…wanting one, knowing your family could probably afford one…
He swallowed the date and shrugged. "No more ridiculous than you ejaculating into your sister's soup, aye?"
Tyrion snorted, though the suspicion in his eyes remained. "I suppose."
They continued as such for another twenty minutes. Tiresias felt his mind slow and his voice slur. He drank more wine than he had in the past fortnight, but he still couldn't keep up with Tyrion. Though the lord's head continued to droop more and more as they played on.
It certainly helped Tiresias that his life in Essos was a lie. Made it easy to drink less. But Tyrion was getting close and he was beginning to regret taking part. He had to end this.
"One…one more, my friend," he slurred. "One more…and it's my turn."
"No, no…no," Tyrion stated, shaking his head. "Lordly privilege…I invoke my lordly privilege…"
Tiresias leaned forward. "I invoke…my guest privilege."
They stared at each other and Tyrion sighed.
"Fuck," he stated. "That is a good privilege." He waved his hand. "Go on, then."
Tiresias gathered what remained of his sobriety and took a breath.
"You were married."
Tyrion's smile vanished from his face as he peered into his eyes. Tiresias didn't blink. Finally Tyrion drank.
"How did you know that?" asked Tyrion, lowering his goblet. "I can't…I can't imagine you heard it in Casterly Rock. My father, he…he despises the topic."
"Soldiers talk," muttered Tiresias as he shrugged. "It's a long ride...from Deep Den to here."
"I suppose it is…" murmured Tyrion, as he gazed into his wine. He didn't lift his head for his next question. "Did you hear the whole story?"
"Enough of it," Tiresias said softly.
Tyrion smirked and shook his head. "Well, I'm not you, Tiresias…my friend…I didn't challenge my father…to avenge the honor of a young…common girl." He looked back up at the Rock, its dark outline visible against the stars. "But I did hate him though…I thoroughly hated him."
"You still do."
The lord pondered that and nodded, turning back to the tray and reaching for the pitcher.
"Yes," he said, refilling his goblet. "Yes, I suppose I do."
He met Tiresias' eyes. "I believe...it's still your turn."
In for a penny…
"You've fantasized about killing your father."
A low grin crept onto Tyrion's face as the man nodded slowly. Finally his mouth opened dramatically.
"Drink," he over-enunciated, his tongue clicking at the end.
Indeed…indeed, you were always attached at some level.
As he drank, he heard Tyrion continue.
"I love my family. I'd never…would never even bet against them…though Jaime did cost me. Fell in King's Landing…during the joust…didn't you see?"
The game appeared to be over. Tyrion had laid back down on the lounge and Tiresias laid upon his. Lannisport seemed to be a little quieter and the prospect of falling asleep here on the brothel rooftop grew more alluring as the moment. Tiresias felt his head whirl slowly from the drink. He turned to the lord.
"You're a smart man, my lord…rational. You know that?"
"Aye…aye, I do," Tyrion mumbled. "Low cunning, my father calls it…"
"Your father's not…not a rational man." That caused Tyrion to turn toward him, his eyebrows raised. "Not as much...as he seems to believe. His actions toward you…his feelings…you know he hates you…"
Tyrion took a sip of his wine and spilled a bit on his shirt. He didn't rise to anger though, instead he looked merely disappointed.
"Do you know why?"
The lord didn't meet his eyes. "My mother…his only beloved…died as she gave birth…to me."
"Tywin would have forgiven Jaime for that…he would have forgiven Cersei or any other child…that came out normal…but you…a dwarf?"
The remaining sobriety in his system caused him to hesitate, but he plunged forward. As gently as he could.
"He wanted to kill you," he said faintly. "From the moment…from the moment you came into this world…he wanted to take you from your mother's dead arms…and carry you into the sea…let the waves wash you away.
"That's not a thought...of a rational man. Even if his wife just died."
Tyrion propped himself up, staring at him.
"I live though…I'm still alive"
Tiresias nodded. "Aye…aye, you are. He didn't do it…for whatever reason…but he still wanted to. He very…very much wanted to."
The waves seemed to crash against the harbor more viciously in the distance. The tide was at its highest.
"Why…why are you saying this?" Tyrion asked, the slur doing little to hide his bewilderment.
Honestly, he didn't know why he said it. As with Tywin, he had no plan for Tyrion, content to have him for conversation and to pass the time in Casterly Rock. Did he want him to move against Joffrey and Cersei? To placate his brother? To keep his head down? To kill Tywin and go across the Sea to Daenerys in so many years?
He didn't know. For now, he was too drunk to make any sense of it. It just seemed enough to put the thought in Tyrion's head. Though he was fucked if he knew what the lord would do with it.
Blinking, he realized that Tyrion was still waiting for an answer. He shrugged.
"Because I like you, my lord…I wouldn't want to hear…that you fell…you fell on a sword to protect someone…who wouldn't protect you. Your father…or any others."
They stared at each other for a while. Tyrion looked very close to passing out.
"You have…" He stopped and stopped himself from vomiting before meeting his eyes again. "You have the straightest…and whitest goddamn teeth I've ever seen…"
Tiresias didn't respond to that. Tyrion laid back down, but rallied himself for one more question.
"How do you know? That he…that he wanted to bring me out…bring me out and…how?
Tiresias set down his wine cup on the tray, staring up at the stars.
"I dreamt it. He confessed it to you. He seemed…annoyed…and pained...that he couldn't bring himself to do it."
His own eyes were growing heavy. He heard Tyrion yawn.
"That's a shit dream, my friend…I'm…I'm off…to a better one..."
Sleep came quick for the lord. Tiresias was still conscious enough to register the man snoring in time with the waves. The combined two amused him and he chuckled drunkenly.
Tywin would have placed him in those waves…
He stopped chuckling immediately at the thought. A slight shame followed him as he fell into a heavy, drunken snooze.
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
TheOneThatRead
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