Tyrion had always thought that the sea looked pretty much the same everywhere.
Now he could see he was wrong.
Even in the middle of the immense stretch of water, he could see that he was getting closer and closer to home.
They travelled along the coasts of Dorne, and now he could recognize the shores of the Reach.
The occasional harbours in which the long ship stopped to provide food and unsalted water looked more and more like those he had seen for all his youth; the people started to have more familiar features; he recognized the similarities in the houses, the trees, the clothes.
Even the seabirds he could see from the ship had common, everyday colours. After the exotic animals he had spotted in the Summer Islands, they were strangely comforting.
-Starting to feel at home, Imp?- said a mocking voice from behind him –I like this place. It feels very… lordly.-
Tyrion sighed. The more they were getting closer to Lannisport, the more Brown Ben would remind him of his debts.
"One hundred thousand golden dragons, fifty hides of fertile land, a castle, and a lordship."
As if he could forget.
-You are welcome to set your seat right here.- Tyrion gestured towards the sea - I've heard the ground below the water is very fertile, most apt to grow seaweeds. How would you like a crab for your sigil?-
Brown Ben smiled amiably, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
-I'd prefer a sealion. Or I might just get a lion, one day.-
Tyrion did his best to ignore the greedy light in his eyes.
- Well, let's make it a hundred hides of this marvellous wet land, then. I feel generous today.-
Brown Ben Plumm was not an easy man to fool.
When Tyrion had signed the stack of notes to become a Second Son, he thought that the chances of actually having to pay them back were very meagre.
Now that the time was coming, however, he didn't feel so optimistic. Were the vaults in Casterly Rock still full of gold? He wasn't that sure. All the remaining Lannisters from Casterly Rock had been living in King's Landing since Robert Baratheon's death. Who kept the place in the last years? Had the area been pillaged? He had no idea.
Queen Daenerys had taken King's Landing very easily. War is easy when you have a big dragon on your side, mused Tyrion.
But then again, that wasn't strictly true.
Oh, Drogon was impressive, no doubt of it. They hardly ever fought any battles, since the very sight of the dragon was enough to set any enemy on the run.
And it was lethal: but it was a burden as much as a weapon.
"Sorcery is like a sword without a hilt" he had read once, in an ancient battered book in Winterfell, an old saying from the North.
Tyrion had always been fascinated with dragons, but nothing could prepare him to the sight of Drogon.
When he first saw it, he stood speechless, in awe in front of the beast. Drogon was scary, ferocious, terrifying: but so… beautiful, too. It was like looking into an erupting volcano.
In the terrible moment in which he found himself in front of the wild dragon, he didn't run like anyone else. He almost didn't manage to think at all. All fear evaporated from him, as he stood mesmerized in front of the beast, and stretched a hand towards it.
And the dragon didn't kill him. He often thought that that was the only reason why Daenerys didn't execute him in the first place.
Afterwards, his love for dragons, and his culture about them proved very useful to the young queen.
But even if the Queen had managed to find a way to use the dragon and make it coexist with her, sometimes Drogon's burst of rage could set a village on fire before Daenerys could arrive and calm it down.
"Sorcery is like a sword with no hilt." Tyrion remembered "There is no safe way to grasp it".
So, Drogon had to stay with Daenerys. If he wanted to claim his birthright to Casterly Rock, he would have to do it the old way, with his fellow brothers in arms.
I seem to have no luck when it comes to sibling, Tyrion thought.
He had no idea of what happened his brother or to his sweet sister. The only Lannister he found alive was Lancel, who had joined the Faith. He didn't look especially happy to see him.
No one was. Those who remembered him looked at him like a demon that had come back to haunt them.
In King's Landing, the smallfolk still talked about an alleged "walk of shame", that apparently Cersei had to do years before.
The tales were many, and they contradicted each other: the queen had to walk naked through the city. No, she had a roughspun robe, but the High Septon whipped her. Whipped? No, she had been tortured in the cells of the Sept of Baelor.
All tales though agreed that the punishment had humiliated the queen beyond imagination.
Tyrion thought about sending a roasted suckling pig to the High Septon to thank him, but he was dead. He feasted alone on the pig, eventually.
His thought were interrupted by the arrival of Kasporio.
-The Captain says there's going to be a storm.- he warned Brown Ben.
-Stay below, Lord Imp.- said the latter -We don't want you to die before you can claim your birthright, do we?-
There was a fine line of black clouds on the horizon, but they didn't look very dangerous.
He went into his cabin and poured himself a generous amount of wine.
A couple of hours and too many flasks later, Tyrion understood how wrong he had been.
The ship was tilting and jumping, while the waves crashed at its tull. The thunders boomed from above.
Tyrion stood hidden in his cabin until he heard a smash and, soon after that, he saw water riveting through the doorstep.
We're sinking, he realised, his mind half-numbed by the wine.
He opened the door and was invested by a wave in the corridor. He ran upstairs, and fell many times, because of the abrupt movements of the ship, and because of his unsteady step.
All the ship crew and all the Second Sons were on the deck, trying to fix the sails that were spinning on the mast uncontrollably.
We're all going to die.
He saw Brown Ben, shouting orders to the crew.
-Ben Plumm!- he screamed. The man turned to face him. –It seems I'm not going to pay this debt after all!- he shouted merrily - They will have to find a new saying, something like "A Lannister usually pays his debts"!- The thought made him want to laugh.
Brown Ben looked frightened, and Tyrion laughed out loud. But suddenly everyone was looking at him with a scared expression, and he realised that something was wrong.
He turned just in time to see the huge wave hit the boat.
And then everything went blank.
Cold. He was cold.
It was all that he could feel, and the first thing he could remember.
He wondered if he was dead.
Then the pain hit him: it was everywhere, in his head, in his back, and especially in his legs, a pain so piercing that took what was left of his breath away.
He opened his eyes. There was so much light; everything was white.
It was painful even to keep his eyes open.
But then he distinguished the water, and the sand, and the rocks next to him.
He was on a shore… but why? What was he doing there?
He closed his eyes. Perhaps it was not so important after all. He didn't care. He just wanted to sleep.
After what could have been minutes, or hour, he felt something in his side. Something… something poking.
He groaned. He half-opened an eye, and found himself staring inside another pair of eyes. They were the same blue-green colour as the sea, and they were narrowing in concentration, studying his face.
-Motheeer!- shouted a voice, very close to him –This one's alive!-
He blacked out again.
-Why is he so short?-
-He's a dwarf, that's why.-
-Oh.-
He heard low, excited voices next to him. They bothered him. He just wanted to sleep. But he was so thirsty, he realised.
-But what is a dwarf?-
-It means that he's a short man.-
A moment's pause.
-So… he's short because he's a short man? That doesn't answer my question.-
-It means….it's because… just shut up, will you?-
-Ce-el!-
He needed water. He had no choice: he opened his eyes.
He was not on the beach anymore: he found himself in a warm room, lying on some hay under a stack of covers. It was quite dark, the only light coming from a fireplace.
He saw three children beside his bed, staring at him: a boy, who could have been eleven or twelve, and a girl, probably a little younger. There was also a toddler with them (he couldn't figure out if it was a boy or a girl), who looked at him with big round eyes. The girl's face lit up when he looked at her.
-You're awake!- she exclaimed –Do you remember me? I was the one that found you on the beach. What happened to your ship?-
He frowned. Why was she talking so loud? His head hurt. His left leg was fixed to a wooden support, and it hurt to breathe. He had broken his leg and a couple of ribs, he judged.
He opened his mouth, but found he didn't manage to utter a word. His mouth was dry.
-I…water…- he managed to say eventually.
She handed him a cup, continuing to chat happily:-We found other people but everybody was dead. I thought you were dead too, but then I poked you with a stick, and you made this noise, like "arr…", so I knew that you were not dead, and then Mother came and she said…-
He tried to lift the cup of water, but it was so difficult. His hands were weak and felt numb.
Also moving his legs was painful.
The boy interrupted the girl's rant:- Shut up. Mother said we shouldn't talk to him. Here, drink.- He helped him raise the cup and drink. His movements were brusque and he looked at him with suspicion, but the water was such a relief that he couldn't complain.
-Tha…thank you.- he said.
-What's your name?- asked the girl.
-My name is…- he stopped abruptly and frowned –My name…-
Surely he remembered his name, didn't he? How couldn't he?
And yet the memory escaped him. It was on the tip of his tongue, just a hair out of his mind's reach.
He realised that his memories were a blank book. Who was he? Where did he come from? Why was he on a ship?
-I… I don't know.- he confessed eventually.
