It was evening. Tyrion never realized how much time has passed, since he was drunk and passed out on the floor. Emmon Frey still was asleep, reeking of wine. Eventually, he awoken too, after a few minutes.

"Gods… that thing was…"

"Amazing, isn't it?"

"Well, not the choice of words I'd use. I'd say… rather strong. My head is a mess!"

"Then you need another mug. There is nothing better to beat the hangover to a pulp than more wine, of course!"

"Heh, you read that into one of your books?"

"No, I just experimented."

"Of course you did."

Emmon Frey approached the window, looking at the sky. The sunset was upon them.

"Tomorrow, by this time, you will be on the ship, sailing towards Essos."

"Indeed."

"Well, it's the last night we spend together."

"Don't talk like we aren't going to make it."

"I try to be, you know, optimistic but your chances of success are slim, at best. As I recall, your ancestor Tommen Lannister, who lost the sword, had an immense fleet. What can you possibly do with just the Laughing Lion."

"It's not quantity that matters but quality. Something that your father Walder Frey should have learned long time ago."

Emmon should have been offended by Tyrion's remarks but he knew the dwarf was right. Lord Walder had a myriad of sons and daughters from countless women but very few of them can claim they are worthy of being called nobility.

"Have you reconsidered my offer to join us on the ship? You would be the first Frey to reach Valyria. Or even the first Frey to reach Essos."

"No, the first Frey to go to Essos was Jonothor Frey, in the year 107 since Aegon's Landing. He was sent by his father to be a cupbearer to a Triarch of Volantis. He eventually married the Triarch's daughter."

"Well, then you will be the second one to reach Essos, but the first one to Valyria!"

"I told you, I have no death wish."

"Fine, fine… So, what are we going to do until morning?"

"Sleep?"

"We slept for the entire day! And of course, I suppose you don't want to drink anymore so…"

"So…?"

"Let's play a game. We ask each other history questions. If one of us doesn't know the correct answer, we drink a cup of wine!"

"Is there any game you know that doesn't involve drinking?"

"Yes, but it does involve undressing."

"Fine, let's do your drinking game. But I warn you, I am pretty good at history."

"Good. Who was Hand of the King in 214?"

"Brynden Rivers, the Bloodraven. Bastard son of Aegon the Fourth of his name and Lady Blackwood."

"Very well!"

"My father actually met the Bloodraven. In 225, the court toured the Seven Kingdoms. Father was seventeen when he was invited to Riverrun when the court remained there for a fortnight. He said that Brynden scared him."

"Leave it to Walder Frey to have met historical relics in person."

"Now, it's my turn. Tell me, how many children does my father have?"

"What? I said history!"

"Well, you said yourself that father is old enough to have met historical relics so… I suppose he is part of history."

Tyrion was shocked. Emmon actually tricked him. The old man had cunning, that's for sure. It seems that beyond his neurotic behavior and infatuation with his aunt Genna, he was quite intelligent. Everybody plays the game, looks like.

"Well, you, of course. Stevron, Aenys… Jared! Aegon?"

"No, Aegon is actually my nephew. He is Stevron's second son. Poor boy. Dumb as a rock that one. He is the fool of the Twins; we call him Jinglebell."

"Umm… Black Walder?"

"Black Walder is my grandnephew. He is the son of my nephew Ryman which is the son of Stevron."

"Fuck that… I quit."

"So, drink!"

Tyrion drank.

After a few hours, long in the night, Tyrion was far drunker than Emmon. The man really didn't lie when he said he knew history. At least the time passed quickly.

"Emm, are you awake?"

"Yes, I won't sleep. I need to be ready for the signal, to bring you in the box."

"Fucking box?"

"What's a small sacrifice compared to what are you going to see? Unless you want to return to Casterly Rock?"

"No chance that would happen."

"Good. I suggest you sleep for a bit, you drank a little too much."

"No, I'm fine. Emm, what are you going to tell father after we leave?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I wasn't privy to that part of the plan."

"I see…"

Tyrion opened a window, having a beautiful view of the harbor in front of him. Casterly Rock was there too, immense, casting a large shadow over all of Lannisport. Just like his father casting a shadow all over the other members of the family. For the first time since he had the idea of leaving Westeros with Gerion, Tyrion thought about the consequences of his act. He would not see his brother, Jaime, in a long time, maybe… forever, if the rumors about Valyria are to be believed. But it's worth it. To see the world, to see for himself the majesty of Valyria, the largest city in the history, is something unbelievable. Even destroyed, Tyrion believed Valyria to be far greater than any of the five cities of the Seven Kingdoms. Oh, those hours. They need to pass faster. The moment he will be off Westeros, a new life will begin for him, far from the game, far from the problems… Far from Tywin Lannister. Tyrion started to fall asleep.

After what seemed to him like moments, his uncle Gerion and his men entered the house and were speaking with Emmon. Tyrion awakened.

"You are drunk!"

"N-no… He is drunk!"

He pointed towards Tyrion.

"Well, if my nephew wouldn't be a lecherous drunkard, he wouldn't be the nephew I know and love."

Gerion ruffled Tyrion's hair.

"Are you ready?"

"Of course!"

"The mad child told me I should come with you."

"Why not? The more, the merrier."

"You know I can't do this. Now, tell me, what I am going to do now?"

"Here is the box. You are going to bring it exactly at sunrise. If Tywin asks you what is inside, you will tell it's Arbor wine for the journey. Understood?"

"What… T-Tywin Lannister will be there?"

"Yes, he will say farewell to us. It's tradition. Don't tell me you are getting soft!"

"N-no, but…"

"So, are we clear? Tyrion?"

"Yes, Uncle, even though I despise your manner of smuggling me unto the ship!"

Gerion started to laugh:

"Well, if I had a raven the size of a horse, you would travel on its back. For now, the box will do fine. Be ready. When the sun is up, you leave the house with the boy in the box."

"Yes, Gerion."

After the youngest brother of Tywin Lannister left the house, Emmon and Tyrion were left with a large, wooden box with only two holes in the lid.

"Ugh… I suppose we should start putting you inside, it's almost dawn."

"Fuck…"

Tyrion felt a bit claustrophobic inside the crate. He could only see through the small holes the ceiling of the house and sometimes, he could see Emmon walking around.

"Nephew, I hope you are not very heavy. I cannot carry large weights. And please, try not to move inside."

"I can only move my hands here. So, I think I will milk my eel until we reach the ship!"

"Please, don't do that!"

After a few more moments, Emmon picked up the crate with Tyrion inside.

"Ugh… it's not too heavy. Now, we are leaving the house."

"Good!"

Tyrion felt strange, like he was floating. It wasn't very comfortable. Which can be said about Emmon too. Carrying a large box with a dwarf inside can't be very easy, especially when you are in your sixties. After a long walk that seemed to have lasted an hour, Tyrion heard his father's voice. He could only see the sky through the holes.

"Ser Emmon. You are late."

"Sorry, milords, but I had to pick up this box with Arbor wine from a merchant in the city. I walked slowly, as I am tired from the hunt."

"I see… Well, you look like a glorified servant with that crate in your hands. Take it to the ship."

Emmon, feeling relieved, entered the Laughing Lion, a large brig manned by a big crew, all sailors from Lannisport and Oldtown. They weren't very happy to sail to Valyria but the promise of that huge amount of gold took some of the doubts away. The ship had red sails, each of them bearing a golden lion. It was commissioned during the lifetime of Tytos Lannister, Gerion's father, bearing the former Lord of the Rock's nickname. Again, Tywin's voice was heard.

"And where is that pathetic little lecher? Probably to some brothel, no?"

"Well, after we returned to the city, he went to the tavern, so yes, probably at the brothel."

"Typical. Now, I bid you farewell, brother. May you return alive and well and bring glory to our house, as you promised."

"Tywin. I want to ask you a favor. Take care of Joy. Swear me, by the Old Gods and the New that you will never spurn her!"

Tywin looked into his brother's eyes. He was angry because his honor was put into questioning by Gerion but he complied.

"I swear."

Genna Lannister approached her younger brother:

"Gery, be well on your journey and come back alive. Take care of what I've entrusted you, my hopes and dreams. And be careful."

"Thank you, sister. I will!"

She hugged and kissed Gerion. Emmon Frey returned on the shore:

"Well, what can I say… I want… I want to confess something! My dove, in our marriage you always chided on me and you know… I may not be the best husband in the world for a goddess like you, but now I want to make you truly happy… I want to leave with Gerion. To recover that damned sword of his."

Genna's world crumbled in a moment. Her Emm, leaving for Valyria? No, it can't be!

"Emm, you can't be serious! You are drunk! I can sense the smell of wine on you from a thousand leagues away. What can you possibly do in this journey? Must I remind you that you puked while we travelled on the Trident?"

Tywin was disgusted:

"Stop your worthless bravado, Ser Emmon. You are not cut for heroic journeys. Let Gerion go and do something useful for me. Go find that monster dwarf and return to Casterly Rock!"

Tyrion couldn't suffer anymore. He left the box and showed himself to his father.

"He found me!"

"Tyrion?! What are you doing on the Laughing Lion?"

"I will leave for Valyria with Uncle Gerion AND Uncle Emmon."

"What madness is this? This was a plan, no? You planned to smuggle my son to Essos?"

"Now I'm your son? A few moments ago I was a monster dwarf. When I was sixteen, you put me responsible with the cisterns and the sewers of the Rock instead of letting me go to the Free Cities. Now, I am going to honor your house with the only few people that ever believed in me!"

"It seems that drink muddled your mind. Get down from there or I swear to you, this ship will never leave Lannisport's harbor!"

"This is the power of the great lord Tywin Lannister. Threats! Always threats. Well, you can burn the Laughing Lion if you want, I will burn with it."

Gerion smiled, being the proudest he's ever been of his nephew:

"Me too! I will never let you destroy the only hope the boy has, like you did with my hopes, or Tyg's."

"Gerion, only you put those absurd thoughts in the child's head. Please, reconsider! Tyrion, you are not cut for this kind of thing!"

"Why, Uncle Kevan? Because Tywin Lannister told me I am not cut for this kind of thing? Because he told you that you are not cut for anything but serve him? I won't do it!"

Emmon Frey was sweaty, not just from carrying the box but from the way Tyrion confronted Tywin. He decided that this moment right now is the decisive moment in his life: will he be a pathetic weasel for the rest of his life or he will finally carve his name in the history books of Westeros for more than marrying Genna Lannister. He chose:

"Lord Tywin… Forty-seven years ago I arrived in your home to marry your sister and since then, you've treated me like scum. Now, I am near the end of my life and I consider I suffered enough your mistreatment. I made my duty by my father and by my wife, whom I've learned to love. But now, after so many years, I want to choose something for me. Those few days since the Valyria issue was discussed, they changed me. Smuggling Tyrion, getting drunk in that cellar, remembering who I was before all of this. I was a child. A cheerful child, a child who loved, who hoped. But when that septon tied mine and Lady Genna's fates together, that child died, because of you. In my sixty-first year, I choose life. I choose to live, even if this life I chose will lead me to my death. But better to die in the Country of Dragons, where House Targaryen acquired the power to conquer an entire continent, then to live like a shadow in the Country of Lions."

Tywin froze:

"You…"

"Yes, me!"

He then turned to Genna:

"My love, I have to do this. I hope I will return someday. But if not, I'm telling you this: you and the children were the only bright stars in the dark sky of my life. I love you, and I love my children and my grandchildren. I want them to remember me for being a brave man, not a weasel."

A tear fell on Genna's cheek:

"Emm… Go… Take care of Tyrion and my brother."

Tywin Lannister was rabid:

"Do what you want, you miserable Frey bastard. But you, Tyrion, you are my son. You have to obey me."

"I don't have to obey you. I don't have to obey a killer. You didn't just kill Uncle Emm's hopes, you killed mine as well. Because of your pathetic hatred."

"How dare you, you who killed your mother when you were born?"

"I killed her, yes, but unintentionally. Unlike you, who took the lives of two innocent babies. Or I have to remind you what happened in King's Landing?"

If Tywin wouldn't have feared the destiny a kinslayer has, he would have killed Tyrion in that moment. However, something was wrong inside of him. He felt something else… was it pride? His son was very much a lion and when a lion roars, the world trembles. Even he, the mighty Tywin Lannister, knew how to admit defeat."

"Go, then. Leave Westeros and never come back, you cursed monster. May your ship burst in flames and burn in the middle of the sea!"

Tywin, Kevan and Dorna left. Genna stayed behind, crying. Not every day a lioness cried, but now…

Tyrion Lannister, Gerion Lannister and Emmon Frey stood on the starboard side of the ship and waved to her. Emmon's children were with Genna there too, Cleos, Lyonel, Tion and Little Walder, waving. Soon, the Laughing Lion would be just a tiny spot which was getting farther and farther south.

On the ship, Gerion congratulated both his travelling companions:

"What have you done took courage, both of you."

"Thank you, Uncle."

"Well… I hope I don't regret my words."