It could have been the life Tyrion had always wanted. A lovely home, a bountiful amount of gold, and a beautiful wife who loved him. The first two he always had but the last one was something he had not often experienced. Love, Tyrion thought in empty humor. I don't even know if she's still alive.
He searched half of the world in hopes to find the place where whores go, to find where Tywin had hidden his Tysha. Yet, there he was, lying on a boat stuck with another dwarf. He did not hate Penny, no, but he did not desire her either. The dwarf had given him her maidenhead just a night ago. Riding in this ship, fucking another dwarf could have been the last thing Tyrion thought he would be doing. He thought it was rather funny that he had been the one who advised her not to give up her maidenhead, yet he was also the one who took it away. I did not ask for it, she gave it. Could you blame me if girls are desperate to have my cock inside them?
Despite it all, Tyrion still felt guilty. Penny was nothing but an innocent child. An innocent child who gave up her maidenhead to a drunk dwarf with no nose. Well, it could have been worse.
Tyrion then felt a quiver on the boat. He hears glasses clacking. Another storm, eh? Tyrion grabbed Penny as they both slumped on the floor. There was nothing to grab onto but themselves alone. An empty room it was if it weren't for the both of them.
It's worse, Tyrion realized. Cocking his head, he stared at Penny who had now blanched in fear. "Hold still." He told her.
"No, no, no, no." He heard her muttering to herself. How afraid she looked, how fragile. A child, Tyrion thought. Seven hells, I fucked a child.
Tyrion desperately pushed himself on the floor yet the ship's movement forced them to bump on the walls. Taking Penny's hand, he motioned to door. Many times both fell. By the time he reached the knob, his head was tingling and his body felt as if it had been hit by stones.
Leaving the room, the scenario was worse. Lots of them had been thrown on sea. On his side, Penny started to cry uncontrollably. He wanted to smack her, slap her, and throw her away. Shut it, child. He ought to tell her. Yet a hypocritical act it might have been for Tyrion himself was afraid and nearly about to cry. The thought of death made him shudder. He did not want to die, let alone die from drowning. You are not going to die, idiot.
The following events could be considered a mystery. He remembered himself falling, shouting, grabbing someone, desperately trying to hold on to someone, trying to hold on to something. He remembered hitting the ground, then hitting the water. He remembered being milk of the poppy being offered to him, a dark room.
Now, he wasn't on a dark room. Instead, he was lying on a bed and beside this bed was a girl he had never seen. Not even once.
"He's awake." The girl stated the obvious. "A second, my lord. I shall call my mother." With her skirts fluttering, the young one ran out of the door.
The room was a big one. Thick curtains covered the windows, only a small portion left open to let the light pass. Huge, wooden cabinets leaned on the wall to his right. In front of him was a mirror big enough to give him a glimpse of what half of the room looked like.
The girl, with her mother, came back on the room. A wealthy family, Tyrion thought. He knew it by their dresses and the room itself was enough to tell him that.
Tyrion then remembered Penny and Ser Jorah and the other people he sailed with in the boat.
"Where did you find me?" He asked, trying to lift his head but a sudden pain hit his neck that he had to lay back.
"Careful, my lord." The woman said with concern. "We found you by the shore. We thought you were dead but we checked you pulse and it was still there, but rather slow and inconsistent."
The reason might have been because his wits had rather become blunt or it might have been the milk of the poppy. Nevertheless, Tyrion found himself late enough to notice that both ladies had spoken to him in Common Tongue.
As a wealthy family living in one of the Free Cities, one would expect them to speak in Common Tongue but an accent would most definitely be audible. Tyrion, in that case, did not hear any foreign accent which gave him the hint that he is nowhere beyond the wall.
"Am I in King's Landing, my lady?" She asked the elder one.
"Why, you're in the Vale, my lord."
Now, that definitely shocked him. Whose child did I most likely kill now?
As much as Tyrion could recall, the last time he had been in the place, he was accused of murder, he was threatened to be flung from a hole which would bring him to his death. But Lysa Arryn is dead.
"May I have the pleasure to know who is behind all these?"
"Lord Baelish used a ship to bring you here, my lord."
Tyrion could almost not imagine how they had actually brought them back all the way from the east, how long had they been drowning his thoughts with the goddamned milk of the poppy? Tyrion supposed it would be best not to ask.