Never forget what you are.
The rest of the world will not.
Wear it like armor,
and it can never be used
to hurt you.

Cause this life is
as fragile as a dream,
and nothing's ever
as it seems.

Chapter one

Every day was the same for the young squire. Wake up, make breakfast, eat together with his master, pour some wine for him and follow him around like a lost puppy. Carry his shit, put up with his shit, clean up his shit, and help him whenever he needs it. Then, when the day was over, he'd lay down on the couch and fall into a short slumber.
His life had gotten pretty simple when he was assigned to his new master. He never had to do much, the only time he'd have to do more than usual, was when his master would get drunk or when he'd have multiple women over. He'd wait in the hallway and stare at the walls until he was allowed to come into the room again.
He had repaid the squire greatly for saving his life, and he had never been mad at the young man. He made it easier for the twenty-year-old to forget about his past, about the things that used to haunt him every night. He was very grateful to have met him.

"Pod!" The imp yelled. The boy looked up, sad, broken, in pain. He was fighting back tears, and swallowed hard to try not to give himself away to his master. "This is farewell." The imp continued. He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, then opened his mouth.

"Farewell, m'lord"

He choked out the words, and he couldn't bring himself to even finish the word 'lord'. Tears fell, he turned around and closed the door. He couldn't let Tyrion see him like that. He stormed off to the imp's room, collected his stuff and threw them in a small bag before he broke down in tears, and let himself slide against the wall until he sat on the ground - knees touching his chest.
How could they accuse Tyrion of a crime he never did, how could they believe it was him. How could they not see that the imp was as innocent as he claimed to be, even if he didn't really seem innocent most of the time.
How could they do this him. To the man who saved his life - who gave meaning to his life. How could they do this to Podrick. To the boy who had gotten so attached to his master.

Jaime had reassigned Podrick as Brienne of Tath's new squire, and that meant he had to follow the woman around and do things he probably never had to do when he was with Tyrion. He tried to smile it off, smile away the pain, the sorrow. His master was going to be executed. He was going to die. A world without Tyrion Lannister. He shook his head and fought the tears. It was done, and there was nothing he could do to save his master. It was a lost cause. He had to move on.

It had been about three months. Three months with Brienne, three months without Tyrion. Three horrible months without sleep, without comfort, without humor or loud laughter. It had felt like the three longest months he had ever experienced. It was almost like he was back in his old life. It wasn't as if Brienne was a horrible person - because she wasn't, but - he just wanted so badly to go home.

Home?

Where was home. He didn't have a home. Tyrion's room was his home - the couch. The couch was his home. The couch he always slept on, from where he'd watch the imp on sleepless nights, where he'd toss and turn until he lay comfortably, but was never able to sleep much. That couch suddenly seemed better than anything he had slept on the last three months.
He sighed, his eyes heavy and arms weak. He needed to rest, but he couldn't. He didn't want nightmares. He looked up - his vision blurry and his eyes burned. He saw, or at least, he thought he saw a small house coming closer. It looked like a mill, or some sort of small farm. He sighed again, then looked at Brienne. Should he ask her? Should he open his mouth, and tell her he wanted to rest? No. He learned to keep his mouth shut. To do what people told him, and to keep his own opinions or suggestions to himself. He bit his lip, then looked back at the road.
He wondered if they had done the execution yet. Was Tyrion still alive - was he dead? Was his head hung on a spike like Ned Stark's? His throat tightened at the thought. No. Don't think about him. Bad idea. He shook his head - a little too hard - causing the boy to make himself dizzy and fall off his horse.
The boy hit the ground with a loud thud, making Brienne stop dead in her tracks, and she sighed when she realized it was only her clumsy squire. She sighed and watched the boy for a while, then realized he wasn't getting up. Something about his lifeless body made her worried - yet she could see that the boy was breathing. She looked at the house, then back at Podrick. She guessed it was time for the boy to rest.

By the time Pod awoke, the only thing he could hear were whispering voices. He could recognize Brienne's - mostly because he had been stuck with her for three months now. He couldn't recognize the other voices, though. Where even was he? A house? It must have been the farm he saw earlier.
How long had he been out for? He wondered. He didn't mind. To be honest, he was a little disappointed he even woke up. He sighed. When did he start to think like that? Like the world had no meaning anymore? Was it all just because he had lost Tyrion?

"Haven't you heard?"

One of the voices whispered, it was probably the owner of the house. Pod closed his eyes, allowing his sight to shut down to make him hear better. "No, what happened?" Brienne's voice was so loud that it was barely a whisper. A female voice spoke this time. The owner's wife? Daughter? Whatever. "He escaped from his prison cell. Someone let him out. He killed one of the whores and his own father." She answered. Pod sat up straight away, his eyes wide and mouth open. "No one knows where he is now. The only thing people know is that Lord Varys has disappeared along with Tyrion Lannister. The two seem to have worked together."

He didn't need to listen anymore - all he knew now was that Tyrion was alive. He was alive and well. He didn't have to follow Brienne because he was forced to anymore. He would follow her in hopes to find Tyrion. That was all he cared about now - all he could think about now.

To be reunited with his master.