Alright, first of the two chapters I will upload this week. You'll understand why. This is a crucial point for the beginning of the fic.

The first part of this chapter is quite... hard to read. Let's say Tyrion remembers something horrible in the first section. I tried to handle the subject as well as I could, to not add too much while still making it horrible enough so we can understand how Tyrion feels, but if there are some people who don't feel easy with it, jump to the end of the section. It is indicated around the third of the chapter.


TYRION V

They almost threw him into the Great Hall. They just brought them back from the cottage. Tyrion and his wife had been together in bed when his father's men had irrupted. Without ceremony, they had separated them and put them on horses. Tysha had a bag on her head, and she was tied. Tyrion wasn't tied, nor did he have anything to cover his eyes, but he was closely watched by the men in red armor. When they rode through the Lion's Mouth, they brought Tyrion and his wife in different directions. Tyrion shouted and struggled to reach her, attracting many looks on him. While on their way to the Great Hall, he didn't stop asking where they brought her, what would happen to her, what they would do to her, without any result. None of his father's men answered.

When the guards pushed him into the Hall, Tyrion managed to the last minute to get his foot and avoided a fall. The heavy doors closed behind him. He looked at the dais and there sat his father. Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Lord of the Westerlands and Warden of the West was sitting in the great and high golden throne of the Rock, his icy stare upon Tyrion like it always happened when his father deigned to look at him, though this time his father seemed more merciless than ever, which was no little saying. Nothing good was going to happen. Tyrion realized at this moment that Jaime was there too, standing at the bottom of the dais. Despite their father's presence, Tyrion managed to croak the question he'd been asking all the time since he arrived at the Rock.

"Where is Tysha?"

"Tysha? Is that her name?" The question his father asked was addressed to Jaime.

"I don't know her name," Tyrion's brother answered.

"No matter. Her name is of no importance."

"Where is she? Where is my wife?" asked Tyrion, loudly this time.

The cold eyes of his father landed on him once more. "To answer your question, she is in the next room, under heavy guard. You'll see her, if that is your wish. But first, my son has something to tell you."

Tywin Lannister would always speak of Jaime as his son in Tyrion's presence, to remember Tyrion that he didn't consider him, and would never consider him, like his son. His brother Jaime walked to him and went on one knee to stand at the same level than Tyrion. He had a pained expression on his face, and seemed to struggle to do something. Finally, he spoke.

"Tyrion, there's something I must tell you. The girl… What's her name you said?"

"Tysha. She's my wife, Jaime. I'm married. I could present her to you."

Tyrion wanted to introduce Tysha to Jaime. He had talked to her about his brother, and Tysha was eager to meet Jaime. He saved her after all, but didn't have the chance to meet her brother-in-law properly. Jaime's face was indecipherable. He seemed to not know what to do. Tyrion didn't understand. He knew that his father wouldn't like it that he married a lowborn girl, but he thought Jaime would be happy. They were brothers. His little brother was married.

"Tell him," shouted their father from behind Jaime's back. Tyrion's brother looked back at Lord Tywin, then with a resigned expression, he turned to Tyrion and cleared his throat.

"Tyrion, this girl is a whore. I hired her. I thought it was time that you had a woman. So I hired one."

"Your brother went so far that he paid double for a maiden. He even invented all this little scenery of an innocent girl chased by rapists on the road to make it better. And here we are now, a Lannister wed to a whore."

Tyrion couldn't speak for a very long moment. Tysha, a whore? No, she wasn't. "No, she's not. She's not a whore. She is a wheelwright's daughter. Her father lived at Lannisport, but he died two weeks ago. She was forced to live in the near forest for that…"

"Tyrion, I'm sorry, but that's all a story. She is a whore that I hired for you, and everything she told you is a lie. I asked her to lie to you, I settled all this. I wanted your first time to be enjoyable. I was planning to tell you the next day. I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth at the beginning. I'm sorry, little brother."

Jaime seemed close to tears, something Tyrion had never seen. He patted Tyrion's shoulder and left on these words. Tyrion stayed there, his eyes looking nowhere. He heard the doors opening, then closing again as his brother left, but he had the impression the sounds were coming from another world. Tysha? A whore? Jaime had hired her for him? Jaime just told him so, and his brother would never lie to him.

"I hope you enjoyed your time with your whore," his father said. "Did you really think she loved you?" Tyrion didn't answer. He was in a daze and couldn't think coherently. "You are a fool if you believed she loved you, and even more a fool since you married her. A wheelwright's orphan."

Tywin Lannister said the last word with venom. Tyrion felt the eyes of his father on him. He didn't look at the face of his father, his eyes fixing the floor, for he knew what he would meet if he ever looked up. Hatred, contempt, judgment. If only there was some deception on his father's face, but he knew there would be none. His father was never deceived of him. He always expected the worst from his second son, and again Tyrion proved he was right. He married a whore. The world was falling apart around him.

"Bring the girl in," the Lord of Casterly Rock shouted. The heavy doors opened and guards entered, dragging a young girl of fourteen, black of hair, blue of eyes and unwashed. His wife. Tysha. Tysha, his wife. Tysha, a whore. That's what his brother told him. One of his father's men pushed her on the floor. Tyrion noticed her clothes were ripped on her back. He saw blood through the gashes. She had been whipped. She was crying. He noticed other cuts and grazes on her arms.

She kept crying for a time, but slowly turned her head towards Tyrion until their eyes met. Tears were streaming all over her cheeks, washing some dirt away. "Tyrion." That was all she said. Tears kept rolling on her face. This girl is a whore. I hired her. I thought it was time that you had a woman. All of it was a lie. Everything that happened in the last two weeks was a lie. That was all arranged by Jaime. Tyrion held the gaze of his wife… of the whore, until he couldn't and turned his face away, avoiding these eyes he looked into when they were wed. She was a lie. He had feared it since the beginning. That was too perfect to be real. It wasn't real. Only his brother would try to invent something good like this for him, but it was still a lie.

"Captain, bring her. She's yours," said Tyrion's father.

The man grasped her hair and pulled from behind, making Tysha wail. "Come with us. We'll show you what it is to be a woman," mocked the captain.

"No. Tyrion! Help me! Tyrion. No. No! Nooooooooooo!"

The cries faded as Tyrion's wife was dragged away. He didn't look at her. He couldn't. If he looked at her, he could try to rescue her, and it was useless. She was a whore. What could he do for her? Why should he try to help her? Tyrion felt horrible. He had the impression he was betraying her, and yet she was the one who betrayed him.

"This girl needs to learn her place," declared his father. "But you need to learn yours as well. Lead my son to the barracks. Make sure he sees everything."

There were some guards who had stayed behind. They carried out their lord's order. Tyrion followed them, barely conscious of anything surrounding him. They arrived in the barracks. There was a great room, some sort of a hall for the soldiers. That's where they brought him. It was time for the soldiers to eat in the middle of the day, so most of them were present. Tysha was curled up in an empty space. The guards led Tyrion to a corner. Tysha looked in his direction again, her eyes pleading for help, and just like he did in the Hall in his father's presence, Tyrion avoided her eyes. This girl is a whore. I hired her. I thought it was time that you had a woman. One of his father's guards stepped forward and roared.

"We have a little entertainment for you, men. I'll start, but don't worry, there will be more than enough for all of you."

All the hall laughed. The man who just spoke went to Tysha and tore her clothes apart. It was a dress Tyrion had bought for her the day after their wedding. It was simple and made of wool, had nothing rich or costly on it, but her eyes had been shining when Tyrion gave it to her. She said she had never wore something so beautiful, and probably it was true. Now it was all in pieces.

From the position where he was, Tyrion could see everything. He saw the man taking his wife. A second soldier, a third, a fourth came, and many more. Tyrion lost the count. Each time a man took his wife, he felt something break within him. Tysha wailed and cried and even screamed the first time, but each time she grew silent, though tears kept flooding her face. Tyrion saw blood appear under her legs after what might have been the twentieth or the thirtieth man. He didn't know.

In the end, they stopped. The men seemed to have grown bored of the entertainment and walked freely around Tysha, not caring about her. She stayed there, lying on the floor, a cry or a wail escaping from her throat from time to time, blood spreading under her. Tyrion felt he was bleeding from the inside just like she did. When all the men had gone and that only Tyrion was left with a few of his father's guards and Tysha, he realized that the Lord of Casterly Rock was here as well. He didn't know for how long, but his father had been there for a part of the entertainment.

"Now you know what she is. And she knows it too. It's time you treat her for what she is." His father put a golden dragon in his hand. "Go. A Lannister is worth more than a soldier."

The other men had paid Tysha a silver stag each. They had thrusted it into her palm when they came over her, and now there were so many that the coins had almost all slipped through her fingers and rolled on the floor. Tyrion approached her, feeling his father's gaze over him. He came before his wife and hesitated. He didn't look back at his father. He knew what he would meet. He went to her right hand where all the coins had been put, and tenderly put the golden dragon in it. Then, just like his father told him, he took her one last time, not like his wife, but like a whore. And as he took her, he felt himself being torn apart, shattered in a million pieces. His screams joined the screams of the girl he was raping, and he was no longer in the barracks. He was in complete darkness, and he heard his wife calling for him.

END OF THE HARD SECTION

"Tyrion! Tyrion! Tyrioooooon!"

She was calling for help. Tyrion ran everywhere, trying to find her, but he could see nothing. He couldn't decide where the screams were coming from. He kept running all around in the vain hope to find her.

"Tysha! Tysha! Tysha!" he kept calling and shouting. "Tysha!"

"Tyrion. Stop that! Tyrion! Wake up."

Tyrion found himself into a dark room he couldn't recognize, lying on a bed he didn't know, breathing heavily. He couldn't see anything. There was no light. Where is Tysha? This is what he thought about immediately. A hand laid on his shoulder and Tyrion looked on his side to see who was with him. He met green eyes he didn't recognize on the moment.

"It's alright. You were only dreaming."

Tyrion needed to blink a few times before his mind went to work and he remembered where he was. His father was dead, Tysha was gone and he was in bed with his new wife, Margaery. It was her hand that was on his shoulder, calming him. Her eyes were worried in the dark and Tyrion looked away, catching his breathe.

"Sorry. Did I wake you up?" he asked her.

"Well, yes. You were shaking and moving wildly, and about to scream. Do you want me to call Creylen?"

"No. I don't need Creylen." There was no need to bring the maester here.

"Do you want something to drink? Wine, or only water?"

"There is some mulled wine on the table," he answered, not really caring about it.

"I'll bring you some."

Margaery climbed down the bed and put on a night gown before she went to pour some mulled wine. Tyrion remembered the first time he had been drunk. This first time had led to him having his first whore. His first wife. His second wife came back a minute later with a goblet. Tyrion emptied it in a single gulp. He wasn't sure if it cleared his mind, but it made him feel better in some way.

"You're very bad at sleeping, you know," Margaery said.

"You're very observing like always," he replied on a neutral tone. He was in no mood for small talk. Images of Tysha being raped by his father's guards were coming back. I hope you enjoyed your time with your whore. Yes, Tyrion had enjoyed it… until his father gave her to his men.

"Tell me what's going on. I want to help you."

Tyrion looked at her. She seemed concerned about him. Tysha had looked concerned about him as well from time to time, like when he almost burned his hand because he tried very clumsily to light a fire in their hearth, but that had been a lie. She was a whore, and everything she did, it was for the money his brother gave her. Her laughs, her smiles, the sweet things she told him, the time they spent in bed, all of it was a lie. He turned his eyes away from his wife.

"Tyrion, look at me." She put a hand on his arm, but Tyrion jerked it away violently. He didn't want her to touch him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Tyrion, I'm trying to help you." Her voice was still kind, but with some reproach too.

"Why would you help me?"

"Because I'm your wife, and you're my husband."

Tyrion scoffed. "If my brother had been Lord of Casterly Rock, you would be married with him. If I had married another girl, you would have another husband to warm up in your bed."

A silence followed. "Tyrion…"

He didn't let her finish. "Stop that! You have nothing to gain from it. Our families married us because it was in their interest. There's nothing more to it. That doesn't mean you have to console me at night, or that you must look as if you love me. Leave it for the court. Your family won't get anything from me because you were kind."

"Tyrion," she said in an unbelieving voice, "I'm really trying to help you. I'm not expecting anything in return. I just want you to be well."

Tyrion laughed dryly. "Strange. Many whores I visited said the same. Maybe I don't pay you, but you're not that different from them. After all, you would never have married me if it didn't mean you would become the richest woman in Westeros. That's the only reason why we're wed."

The silence that followed was heavy. Time seemed to stop. It lasted a long time, and not a single moment did Tyrion look at his wife. He felt he said something wrong, but didn't want to take it back, nor did he think he could. Finally, Margaery left their bed and walked to the door of their chamber.

"I'll sleep in the other room." She left.

Tyrion realized what he just said. He wanted to call her back, to apologize, but then he remembered Tysha again. She had been his wife, and had lied to him, making him believe she loved him. Margaery had almost succeeded in it as well through the five months of their marriage, but Tyrion could see through her act. He wasn't young and stupid, nor drunk, nor in love. Well… Yes, he was in love. He still loved Tysha, he loved Alla, and he had come to love Margaery despite everything, despite knowing very well she was trying to manipulate him. He couldn't help but love her. He was a fool.

Tyrion didn't sleep for the rest of the night. A part of him wanted Margaery to come back, the other part didn't. He stayed, sitting on their bed, hoping and fearing that his wife would come, but she didn't. Instead, Tyrion kept seeing the images of this day seven years ago, the day he lost the woman he loved. The night went on, slowly giving place to morning. Tyrion didn't leave the bed, but at some point he realized he wore nothing and hastily put some clothes on him. Ty brought him his breakfast, but Tyrion ate nothing of it. He simply stayed there, afraid that if he left this room, he would have to face his wife, the past, the present, the future.

He drank, like he always did in these circumstances. By midday, ten empty jugs were on the small table. Tyrion decided to leave, the wine making him braver, bolder and more foolish than usual, but it seemed it was useless to be brave. Margaery wasn't in their apartments. He wouldn't face her. He left their rooms all the same and wandered through the Rock. He went to the library first. Then his short legs led him to the Lion's Mouth outside. It was there, in this courtyard, that he was separated from Tysha for the first time. He walked to the Great Hall afterwards, where his brother told him the truth, then to the barracks, where he watched dozens of men taking his wife before he did the same. He didn't stay long at any place, for each brought dreadful memories he normally tried to avert.

Somehow, he ended up in the godswood. He didn't remember walking to this place, but he supposed he did since he realized he was sitting on the twisted roots of the tree. He thought he crossed Kevan's and Daven's paths before he found himself there, but he wasn't sure. He supposed they were probably in the middle of the afternoon. He didn't know for sure. Tyrion had a lot of work to do, many duties to attend to, but he couldn't care less about it right now. He looked to the face of the tree. He had never believed in the Old Gods, nor did he really believe in the Seven. He had wanted to join the Faith once, thinking that if he became High Septon, then he would wear a crown that would make him taller and do his part for the honor of his house. But then, he met Tysha. The New Gods made him discover something new if they ever existed, and he abandoned the idea to serve them. People wanted to believe that gods existed, and that they were good. It gave them hope. Tyrion couldn't entirely blame them, but he had given up any hope from these gods a long time ago. Tyrion once heard about a substance in Essos, the opium, that caused you to have strange living dreams. Some maester once said that religion is the opium of the people. Tyrion was tempted to agree with him, though he suspected this wasn't the only opium the people could have. His opium had been wine and whores for many years, and before that it had been love. Everyone had his own opium. His father's opium had been the Lannister name, Cersei's opium was power, and Jaime's opium was Cersei. They were all blinded by something. No matter what it was, there was always something to blind them.

Tyrion felt tears running on his cheeks as the thoughts of Tysha came back to his mind. He had loved her, just like he loved Margaery now. Was she all a lie too? He should have known Tysha was a lie. Truth be told, he had been afraid she wasn't real ever since the beginning, but he hadn't wanted to consider it, not until Jaime told him the truth. He didn't blame his brother. After all, how could he know Tyrion would marry the girl? He had only wanted to make his first time with a woman memorable, and for that Tyrion thanked Jaime. He was the only one to really love him in his family since his uncles Gerion and Tygett died. Jaime would never betray nor abandon him. He couldn't say the same of their sister and their father, or even of Kevan and Genna.

Tyrion remained there, unmoving, tears drying on his face as he remembered the woman he had loved. The woman he raped. The woman he paid. His first whore. He remembered the Myrish song she used to sing to him. A maid as fair as summer. She had been a maid, yes. Jaime had paid double for one, but she was a whore nonetheless, and no woman would ever want him except for the gold he could offer them.

"You once told me you didn't believe in gods. Were you only speaking about the Seven?"

She was standing there, right in front of him. Tyrion didn't know how she had approached, but somehow he hadn't heard her coming. Margaery wore a green gown made of silk. He remembered she had it made only last month. The dressmakers of Casterly Rock made for his wife clothes both in the fashions of the Reach and the Wetserlands. Tyrion tended to like her gowns in the Reach style better. They were easier to take off. He remembered the day she had worn this one for the first time. In the evening, he had taken great pleasure to strip it slowly, very slowly, from her, and she moaned loudly as he had trailed his mouth over her body.

"Truth be told, I don't care about faces carved in trees, nor about the trees with the faces either. I don't care either about the Father, the Mother, the Crone, the Smith, the Maiden, the Warrior or the Stranger, or the Seven Hells and Seven Heavens. I don't care about the Drowned God or the God of Flame and Shadow either, they can all go to hell if it exists. But no one ever comes here, and there's always someone in the sept."

He dropped his eyes to the floor again after he answered, but he knew that Margaery was still standing there. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to contemplate her beauty like he always did, then to bring her to their chambers where they would fuck, but he didn't feel for it. He didn't think he could. Not after what he said this morning. Not after everything that happened this night.

"I suppose you only want me to come back to our chamber tonight so you can fuck me."

Her words hurt, and not only because of the hard tone she used. He wasn't used to that with Margaery. She was always sweet and kind. Perhaps that made her false in some way, but kind and sweet all the same. He looked at her, and for the first time he saw anger on her face. He dropped his eyes on the floor, ashamed. He supposed her mask was dropped, and for the first time he wished it was back. With difficulty, the words came out from his mouth.

"I didn't think what I told you. I never thought of you as a whore. You're a formidable woman. Beautiful, clever, cunning, kind. I never thought I would marry someone like you. I never hoped to marry someone like you. Sometimes I wonder if you're just an illusion. You're so perfect in everything. I feel I don't deserve you most of the time."

Right now, he felt it even more. Margaery was nothing like the other girls had been for Tyrion. She was an ally, a friend, a great lady who sat by his side, who ruled with him, who shared his life. Yes, he took comfort in her and loved their time in bed when they became one, but that wasn't all of it. She was his wife, not his whore. He loved her.

He heard her sitting a few feet away from him on another root. "I have tried to use you and to manipulate you, Tyrion. And it's true, I married you because you're the Lord of Casterly Rock, and for no other reason. But you wouldn't have married me neither if I hadn't been the daughter of Mace Tyrell and only some crofter's daughter."

If I met you as a crofter's daughter, I may have fallen in love with you all the same. Yet, she was right. Tyrion married her because her father was Lord of Highgarden. As Lord of Casterly Rock, that was what he had to do. Margaery kept speaking.

"I don't regret our marriage. I'm very happy here, my friends too, and I like to spend time with you and members of your family. I like when we dine together, when we walk together, talk together, hold court together, rule together, and I even like it when you make your crude jokes. I also enjoy it when we fuck. But I don't want you to see me as some whore in a brothel who welcomes you in her bed because you give her something. It's not who I am."

"Not. That's not who you are," echoed Tyrion. She wasn't a whore. Not like Tysha.

"What is it that happened last night? What were you dreaming about?"

Tyrion looked at her. She really seemed to care about him, and he did all he could to convince himself that she indeed did. Still, he looked away when he answered.

"It was nightmare. A horrible nightmare."

"What was it about?"

Tyrion didn't answer. He couldn't tell her. How could he tell her about Tysha, about her gang rape, about what he did? At best, she would probably be insulted only to know that he married a whore, believing she was a wheelwright's daughter, or consider him like the greatest idiot in Westeros. He didn't want her to think of him this way, or worse, and surely she would think worse of him if she ever learnt the truth.

"Who's Tysha?"

Tyrion was expecting everything but this. He almost jumped to the roof of the cave. How could she know her name? He looked in Margaery's eyes to see a certain sadness. What was she sad about? If she knew it, then she should look at him with hatred.

"You were whispering her name in your sleep last night. And that wasn't the first time," she said.

It took some time for Tyrion to truly assimilate her words, but when he finally did he was on the brink to sigh in relief. She only heard him whispering her name. She didn't know what Tyrion had gone through in his dreams.

"Is she the girl in Kayce to who you send a bag of silver every month?"

Again, Margaery startled him with her words and he looked at her again. She wasn't smiling. Not exactly. Her expression was between smile and sadness. It was chagrin and disappointment he could see right now, perhaps even some exasperation.

"This kind of things can be found, Tyrion. I'm not an idiot. You said it yourself." She made a dry smile and looked intently at him. "So, it's her?" He didn't answer immediately. He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to betray Alla. His wife sighed. "You remember, on our wedding night, you told me you wanted us to be honest with each other. You said you wanted us to trust one another. I know it's not easy, but I'm trying. I only hope you're trying as well. Unless it only works one way for you."

There was some accusation both in her voice and in her face. Tyrion remembered saying her that, and he had meant it. He still meant it. How could he ask Margaery to trust him if he couldn't even tell her about this? After a moment of reflection, he spit it out.

"That's not what you believe. I don't have a mistress, or a lover. I haven't been with another woman ever since our betrothal became official. The silver I send every month to Kayce is for a girl named Alla."

Margaery frowned. "Alla?"

"Yes, I know. She has the same name than your cousin, but the resemblance stops there. She was a scullion in the kitchens here. She… I had her come to my chambers a few times after my father died. I sent her away when our betrothal was decided. I didn't want her to be around when you would arrive. So I made her leave and organized something for her in Kayce. That's where she lives now, and yes, I send her a bag of silver each month, so she may have a good life."

Margaery looked at him with an expression that didn't express much. "You're not the first lord or knight to bring a servant to his bed. And you won't be the last."

"I haven't seen her since she left the Rock, and I don't intend to see her again. I just… I don't want her to live in misery, and I promised I would look after her."

Margaery nodded, a thin smile on her lips. "A Lannister always pays his debts." He loved her smile when it was like that. It was a discreet one, without act. "That could have been worse. I don't blame you. Men have needs. Just like women."

They both laughed shyly. Tyrion knew very well that Margaery was no stranger to bedding outside the bonds of marriage, though he had seen nothing up to now to make him believe she was unfaithful to him. Only, she hadn't waited for the marriage to experiment, and she knew Tyrion hadn't either. Tyrion was sure the whores had gone begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock when he married. They lost their best customer, and certainly the most generous one.

Margaery's face had gone serious once more when she spoke. "Who's Tysha then?" Tyrion didn't answer. He couldn't tell her, and yet he didn't want to lie to her, not when she just reminded him he wanted them to be honest with each other. He hoped she would abandon the matter, but his hopes proved to be worthless. "Tyrion, you were about to scream the other night when you woke up. You were not whispering this name randomly. Please, tell me." She brought her hand on his. "I want to help you."

She had the same expression that she had the day on the Lion's Bridge, and on their wedding night when he told her his first wife died two weeks after their wedding. You are a much better man than you believe. He wanted to believe her. At least he owed her a part of the truth.

"She was my first wife." He said it. He finally said it.

"The one who died? How did it happen?" she asked.

Tyrion kept looking in her eyes for a time, but at the end he couldn't answer, neither with words, nor with a movement of his head. He looked down. He couldn't lie to her. Not again. He couldn't tell her the truth either, and yet… How could he ask her to trust him then? A long moment passed. Margaery's hand remained where it was, and he could feel her eyes on him. Eyes full of pity. A pity he didn't deserve. Without realizing it, he confessed.

"I lied. She didn't die, but she should have. It would have been a lesser evil if she had."

Her hand didn't leave his own, but he felt its grip tighten. "What do you mean? She's still alive?" Her voice was worried.

"I don't know." He kept looking away from her. "She may be dead, as far as I know, but if she's alive, I don't have the slightest idea where she is."

Another silence. "Tyrion, what happened?" Her voice was insistent now, and her grip had tightened even more. Then everything poured out of Tyrion's mouth.

"When I reached my sixteenth's name day, I wanted to take a tour of the nine Free Cities of Essos, just like my uncles Tygett ad Gerion had done before. I had always wanted to travel the world to see it by myself. But when I talked of this with my lord father, he forbade me, saying if I did then I would have to pay for it myself and forget about any hope to ever return home. He said he wouldn't allow me to bring shame on House Lannister through the Free Cities. Instead, he gave me charge on all the drains and cisterns of Casterly Rock. I suppose he hoped I would fall into one, but in that I disappointed him, like always. The drains were never drained half so well, and all the shit found its way to the sea. But as the year passed on, my brother Jaime came to visit us. And then he decided we had to do something to celebrate me reaching manhood."

"So we packed our things and started a tour of the Westerlands. I almost never left the Rock before. It was my first real time out. Jaime and I visited every corner of the Westerlands. We stopped at every castle, every town, every harbor, every inn. We traveled for months. And at the end, on our way back, when we were only a few miles from Casterly Rock, a girl ran into us. She was being followed by two men, her clothes were all torn apart. You can imagine what my brother did. He unsheathed his sword and chased the men. While he did it, I tended to the girl. I wrapped my cloak around her shoulders. She was too scared to send away on her own, she was starved, and I learnt she was an orphan. She had to be around fourteen. Her father had been a wheelwright in Lannisport who died last month. She had nowhere to go. So I brought her to a nearest inn and fed her."

Tyrion grinned as the good memories came back. He resumed his tale. "She was hungry. Terribly hungry. We finished three chickens and a flagon of wine. It may look strange, but there's been a time when I wasn't used to wine. I forgot how afraid I was around girls. I forgot how I always expected them to laugh at me, or to look away embarrassed, or to ask about my tall and handsome brother, or even about my sister the queen. I forgot about everything but her. And somehow, I don't remember how it happened, nor can I know how it could have happened, but I found myself into her bed. Next morning, I was mad enough in love to ask for her hand."

"You married a wheelwright's orphan? Someone from the common people?" asked Margaery. Tyrion looked at her. She looked mostly surprised, but not very outraged. Her grip had loosened.

"I did. What did you expect? That it would some great lady of the Westerlands? I wasn't Lord of Casterly Rock back then, and my father hadn't deigned to make me his heir officially. No lady would have accepted to marry me back then. Tysha did."

"Now I understand why I never heard about it before you told me."

"Many people in Casterly Rock know the story, or at least a part of it, but my father didn't allow anyone to talk about it when he was alive. Lord Tywin Lannister wasn't about to let it known that he was the father-in-law to a wheelwright's daughter."

"So you were wed in secret?"

"Of course. If I had asked my father, he would have refused immediately. I convinced a drunken septon with a few lies and fifty pieces of silver, and we were wed in the presence of a few pigs to bear witness. We ate one of the witnesses at our wedding feast. She fed me crackling and I licked the grease off her fingers."

He hears a shy giggle coming from Margaery. "Well, that's quite a particular wedding."

"It was." Tyrion smiled as he said it. "I settled us in an abandoned cottage near the Sunset Sea, and we lived as man and wife for a fortnight. That is, until the septon sobered up, and the first thing he did was to tell my father. Like always, I deceived him, but probably more than ever this time. I wonder what happened to the septon. I wouldn't be surprised if my father had him killed. After all, once he was dead, there was no one who could confirm I was ever married. My father's men found us quickly. There aren't many dwarves with a lot of money nearby. And they brought us back here."

At this point, Tyrion stopped. He didn't want to go further. If he talked about the things that happened after that… He didn't dare to look at his present wife. Her hand was still where it was before. "Continue, Tyrion. Tell me what happened."

Her voice was soft, kind, not demanding, only asking. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want. But he couldn't lie to her, and he couldn't hide it either. Tyrion harshly closed his eyes before he opened them again, still looking away from Margaery. "He forced Jaime to tell me the truth. Tysha was a whore. Jaime had planned everything. The road, the rapers, the girl, all of it. He thought it was time for me to have a woman. He even paid twice the price to have a maiden. He certainly never thought I would marry her. For him, it was only a way to make my first time enjoyable."

He stopped again. Margaery's hand was now clutching his. "And?"

She looked afraid. She was bloody right to be. Tyrion wished she didn't want to know the rest. "My father sent Jaime away after his confessions and brought in Tysha. He gave her to his guards. They brought her to the barracks and he sent me there to watch. She was paid a silver coin for each man. By the end, she had so much silver that the coins were flipping through her fingers and rolling onto the floor."

Margaery's clutch on his hands was tighter than ever. He shot her a look from the side and saw both horror and stupor on her face. It lasted some time, but her grip slacked once more. "Tyrion… I'm sorry. I had no idea. I… I can't believe it. I'm so sorry."

They were without words. After a time that looked like an eternity, he felt a hand on his shoulder. His wife's hand. He looked at her again, and all he could see was sorrow, pity, care. That was what he wanted in a wife, but he couldn't withstand it. He jerked and looked away from her.

"Tyrion, I…" He didn't let her finish.

"Don't be sorry. You shouldn't be. You should hate me."

"Tyrion, your father is the one who did this. You had nothing to do with what happened to Tysha. It wasn't your fault."

"You don't know what I did afterwards." He faced her as he shouted. "After all his men were done with her, he sent me last. Forced me to pay her a golden dragon because I was a Lannister, and worth more. And I did it, just like the other men."

His wife didn't seem to react first, but then a horror even worse than the one she had shown before lighted her face. It wasn't something Tyrion liked to see, but it was better than a pity he didn't deserve. She stood up. If she had still a hand on his, she would probably have withdrawn it. She stayed there, still staring at him with horror. Now she surely saw the Imp.

"You can go back to Highgarden. You should. I won't stop you. Anyway, I can't."

He looked on the ground after he said these words. He didn't want Margaery to go, but he was sure she would. Who wouldn't? He heard footsteps and lifted the eyes to see his wife slowly walking towards the exit of the godswood. She seemed to slide on the floor more than she walked on it. He kept his eyes on her until she was out of sight, back into the corridors of Casterly Rock. Then Tyrion dropped his gaze on the floor again. He had lost her. For the second time in his life, he lost his wife. For one of the rare times in his life, he cried. He cried for the woman he loved and who he would never see again.


Quite an unhappy chapter, I have to concede. Wait until the next chapter. It will be uploaded in two days. It will begin where this chapter ended, and it will be told from Margaery's perspective.

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