Tyrion Lannister waddled his way through the crowd, sword banging against his thigh as he walked. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the sun heated his scalp, making him sweat under the armor. Where is she?! he thought in a slight panic, whipping his head this way and that to try and see if he could notice her bare feet and the hem of the blue dress she wore. One minute they had been walking together, the next she had run after her dragon once it had spotted food, leaving him to fend for himself in the markets. Surely, Daenerys Taraegryn was going to be the death of him. She was always so stiff when it came to her dragons, they were like children to her.
"Excuse me!" he shouted in disbelief as he was suddenly pushed roughly aside, a few lanky teenagers in what looked to be peasant garb shoved their way past him. Of course, they didn't notice him and went right on with whatever had them occupied. Rolling his eyes, he prodded on, squinting at feet and trying his best to get a look at faces and hair, for there was no mistaking Daenerys's white mane. As soon as he started making his way again, his stomach growled, and loudly. Shit, Tyrion thought, I didn't bother eating anything! Looking around, he spotted a fruit vendor, the red delicious apples and ripe mangoes that sat on the stand looking like a pile of gold from a treasure chest. Quickly, he made his way over, standing patiently in front of the vendor, waiting for her to notice him.
"Ahem," Tyrion cleared his throat as the woman finally looked up, "I would like to pur-"
"What is it you need today, sir?" she said to the air above him. Tyrion rolled his eyes.
"I was just about to-"
"I was wondering if you have any grapes?" said a voice from behind- or above, depending on how the situation was seen. Tyrion groaned, holding his complaining stomach. this always happened whenever he went anywhere to buy necessities, whether it was food or weapons, it didn't matter.
"excuse m, but you do notice I'm standing here?!" he said angrily, turning around to glare at the man behind him, the sun burning in his face as he squinted u at the man, the rays of light looking like a halo around his shaggy brown hair that brushed his shoulders.
"Oh! I do apologize, sir!" he said somewhat jokingly, "I didn't notice you there for a second!" Tyrion heard the vendor try to stifle a laugh and he sent a glare her way.
"Do you even know who i am?" he said demandingly as he turned back to the man. The man shrugged, fiddling with his red cape that hung about his shoulders.
"Do you know who I am?" he countered with a laugh. Tyrion sneered.
"Arrogant just like my nephew," he accused, then muttered under his breath, "the mewling quim, he has no right to the throne…" A look of worry came across the strangers face.
"Why do you speak of the humble Prince in such a way?' he asked, trying his best to be polite.
"Humble Prince?" Tyrion scoffed, "don't you mean tyrannical King?!" The woman had closed shop, drawing down the shade of the awning, leaving the two men standing in the middle of the road. The man narrowed his eyes.
"I'll have you know that speaking in such a manner about the King or his heir could result in your death, little man," he warned, leaning down so he as face to face. The bright red cape shifted to reveal glittering chain mail underneath.
"His heir?" Tyron questioned boldly, "the King is nay but thirteen years of age. There is no possible way he could have already produced an heir!"
"Thirteen?" the knight asked, "the king is in his late fifties, I suspect! It's his son, he's at least seventeen by now!" Now it was Tyrion's turn to be surprised- Westeros was in bad shape, if they had allowed a thirteen year old the throne. Coughing, Tyrion asked, 'Pray tell, where am i?"
"Why, you're in Camelot!" the man boomed, seining his arms to gesture at the supposed grandeur around him. Tyrion nodded, Of course we had to land in another kingdom….
"I thank you," Tyrion said, suddenly remembering why he was running around the markets: the Khaleesi, Daenerys the Stormborn. Nodding politely, Tyrion said, "I really must be going now, I've seem to have lost my companion-"
"A lady friend?" the man cooed, raising an eyebrow. Tyrion blushed. He would never ever thing of the Khaleesi of the Dothraki in that way. Besides, he thought, I have Shae.
"Not in… not in that way," Tyrion explained, "she contacted me asking met o escort her safely to Westeros, but we did not realize Camelot was on he way-"
"Where is your friend from, that Camelot is on the way to this Westeros?" the knight asked.
"She resides in the barren of the Dothraki Sea," Tyrion raised an eyebrow as the man's eyes widened in shock- had he heard of it then?
"The Prince mentioned visitors coming from that area," he explained, "although in truth, none of us had heard of it before." Tyrion nodded.
"Is that why you got defensive over the matter of the King?" He nodded.
"I'm Gwaine, by the way," the man said, holding out a hand, "Knight of the Round Table in Prince Arthur's court." Nodding, Tyrion had to stand on his toes in order to shake his hand.
"Lord Tyrion, House of Lannister, the Right hand of King Joffrey of the Iron Throne," Tyrion introduced himself. Gwaine scoffed as they let go, "Lord, did you say?"
"Yes, what of it?"
"But- you're an imp!" Gwaine proclaimed.
"Yes, I get that a lot," Tyrion joked, "but in Westeros, my family is a family of power and wealth. 'Her me roar!' is the motto we live by."
"I don't think Camelot's King has a motto," Gwaine mumbled.
"Pity, for they truly are grew pieces of advice when needed," Tyrion rumbled.
"If you have a Prince," Tyrion said, "who is the king?"
"King utter, Arthur's father," Gwained said as he started walking, waving the dwarf over to follow, adding, "Would you like to see the court?"
"By all means," Tyrion agreed, "so Arthur is not yet King? Is he at least married?" Back home, he had been married by the age of fourteen, which was not uncommon in Westeros.
"Married?"
"Yes. Is he?"
"Well, no," Gwaine smiled nervously, "marriage is proposed a the age of twenty at the least."
"Strange," Tyrion pondered, "I myself was wed at fourteen, which is a perfect age for fruition, no?" As they walked, many stared, a child pointing Tyrion out to its mother. Don't let it get to you, Tyrion, he thought to himself, you are a Lannister. Lannisters do not get embarrassed!
"Does your kingdom always have such strange customs?" Gwaine inquired as they entered the courts, passing under the arch of to white stone towers, flag s waving proudly, red clog baring a gold lion.
"That sigil," he said, pointing it out, "it is similar to mine."
"The lion?" Gwaine said, "it represents courageousness among men. That we are brave in times of trouble and need." Tyrion nodded- the meanings were eerily similar, although the lion on Camelot's flag had gold framing behind it.
"So, your companion?" Gwaine broke through the imp's thoughts, "who is it? I can help you find her if need be."
"I should be able to find her," Tyrion said, "for her appearance is not one someone forgets."
"So she is beautiful?"
"For a teenager, beautiful is not exactly the term you would use, more like, strange," Tyrion explained. Two knights walked by, waving to Gwaine and giving Tyrion curious glances. Gwaine noticed, but kept silent. He didn't want to offend him, and they were getting off on such good terms too.
"How old is she?"
"Her name-day is coming soon, I suspect," Tyrion prattled on.
"Name day?" said a voice behind them, making the two jump, "don't you mean birthday?" Turning, Gwaine broke into a wide grin, clapping the young Prince Arthur on the back, then giving him a nod, a slight bow of his head.
"Gwaine," Arthur greeted curtly.
"Arthur, your Grace," Gwaine replied, the silly grin plastered to his lips. Tyrion looked him up and dan. The boy was certainly muscular, there was no doubt about it. And he had looks: a full pair of soft pink lips, beautifully framed bones in his face and overall build, blue eyes, and hair that looked as if it were woven from the sun itself, it was so blond.
"So this is the fabled Prince Arthur?" Tyrion asked.
"That I am," Arthur said, hands on his his defiantly, "and you are?"
"Lord Tyrion, House of Lannister, the Right Hand of King Joffrey of the Iron Throne," Tyrion said almost robotically, as if he had said his title each day to anyone he's met.
"So…. Lord Lannister," Arthur said awkwardly, "what is a name-day?"
"A name-day is one that a child such as yourself would call a birthday," Tyrion explained.
"Me? A child? What about you, you're so… so…." Arthur trailed off when Gwaine gave him a look that told him to not mention his height.
"I know you are shaking your head, Knight Gwaine," Tyrion said with a roll of his eyes, "so I beg you please stop because I know what I am. An imp. A dwarf, if you want to be kind about it." Gwained was sheepish, his face turning scarlet from embarrassment. Wow, Arthur thought, he's pretty up front about his condition.
"I was just telling your Knight of my companion whom I was traveling with," Tyrion went on, "we have split up, as you can see, and it is very important we get to Westeros-"
"Westeros?!" Arthur interrupted, "that is the third time I've heard that name, I swear-"
"-So you've seen her?" Tyrion asked in a rush, "the Khaleesi?" Arthur cocked his head.
"Is that some sort of creature?" he asked. Tyrion sighed.
"it is my companion's title," Tyrion explained.
"Title?"
"Yes. It means Queen in Dothraki," Tyrion said, "her Khal, or king I suppose, was killed. She rules the people of the Dothraki herself, and at such a young age." So the visitor is a queen, Arthur thought, maybe….? He shook his head, pushing the thought away. There was no possible way the girl he saw in the physicians chambers could be a queen. She was too young, for starters. And she had no idea what the laws were in other kingdoms, so she probably didn't associate with other kings and queens often. Clearing his throat, Arthur said, "Well, what does this queen-"
"Khaleesi," Tyrion corrected bluntly, "you will use the proper form when speaking of her." Arthur nodded.
"Right, Khaleesi, what does she look like?" Gwaine let out a booming laugh that surprised them both.
"The imp said she looks strange, sire," Gwaine answered for Tyrion.
"As in?" Arthur raise an eyebrow in question, "come on, elaborate for me, please."
"She has skin as white as snow itself," Tyrion said, "her eyes are purple- not uncommon in the Taraegryn line- and her hair-"
"Let me guess," Arthur said, "is as golden as the sun and as soft as the under skin of a lamb?"
"Golden hair?" Tyrion let out a chuckle, "no, young Prince, golden hair is a distinctive trait of the House Baratheon/Lannister, family of the Iron Throne." Iron Throne? Arthur thought with confusion as the dwarf continued, "no, the Khaleesi's hair is white, lacking any pigment whatsoever."
"But that would mean she is old in her years," Gwaine chimed in with shock, "you said yourself that she was soon to be sixteen years of age, no?"
"I did mention this, yes," Tyrion said. White hair, pale skin…. Arthur's thoughts churned as he then asked, "When you were traveling, was she wearing a blue dress? No shoes? Tyrion was taken aback.
"Y-yes," he stammered, "do you know where she will be?"
"Guienevere, the Lady Morgana's hand maid, she's taken her in while Is et up council with my father."
"Where does this Guienevere live?" Tyrion asked.
"I don't know. But i suspect my servant does," Arhur answered, "for now though, would you care for a room in the castle? it's surely more comfortable then anywhere else in the kingdom." Tyrion glanced at the broadened white stone towers, then back at the expectant faces of Gwaine and Arthur.
"I guess it will have to do," he said with reluctancy.
"I'll have Merlin set up a guest room for you then," Arthur said uncomfortably, noticing the hesitation in Tyrion's voice- what was so bad about his castle? Nodding, Tyrion addled beside Arthur as Gwaine ran ahead, making sure the Knights of the Round Table knew they had a guest.