A Holiday by Decree
"Pod, tell me," Tyrion started. "Is it wrong that I still can't help having an impending sense of doom? That being forced to board this ship by our monarch herself cannot possibly lead to anything good?"
Together with Tyrion, a now-knighted Ser Podrick watched Tyrion's trunks being loaded upon the moderately-sized vessel in front of them. "My Lord, with what you have endured, I would say that's perfectly natural. StilI, for once, I feel that this is actually just as it looks: a reward for your hard work and a sign that you should take this chance to rest," the knight replied, looking kindly down at Tyrion.
"You're sure you won't come?" Tyrion asked again. He tried not to sound pleading, thinking, I already feel like enough of a skittish ass.
"No, my Lord, I can't find an excuse not to visit my relatives anymore. I've put it off so much, they might send a kidnapper for me soon," Pod japed.
"Guess this is it then," Tyrion sighed, clapping hands warmly with his friend before boarding the ship.
Setting sail, the ship soon entered open waters. As Tyrion felt the rise and fall of the craft in the water, he tried to ignore a churning in his stomach. The scent of the wet air alone brought up unfortunate memories of other voyages he had passed, one in a crate alongside Varys, another when Jorah Mormont had kidnapped him and tried to sail him through Valyria…
Tyrion looked around. There were not too many other passengers aboard. A few smartly-dressed business looking types, a couple pairs of well-enough-to-do lovers, and some affluent families on travel. He had caught some of them observing "the Imp" curiously, not maliciously at least, when he boarded; his stature had never helped, but the facial scar definitely made him recognizable. While he saw nothing of alarm in his observers, all of whom looked quite common, he was still conscious of the two plainclothes guardsmen Daenerys had assigned to travel with him.
Regardless, not feeling particularly well, whether due to the ocean chop or the memories, Tyrion retired to his small, private cabin. While it shouldn't have surprised him - in hindsight, maybe he had been pushing some rather long hours of late - he spent most of the multi-day voyage resting in bed.
A few mornings later, Tyrion awoke to a knock at his cabin door. Per his guardsman, they would make landfall soon. Having dressed, Tyrion came above deck shortly after to the most glorious view.
Beneath an overhang of passing grey clouds, salty air mist gradually melted into a coastline dotted with numerous smaller jewel-like islands, each crowned like the larger one with lush greenery falling into picturesque stony, outcrops. These natural rock walls, of a rich reddish-sand color, sat enthroned above beaches of extremely fine, white sand. Yet, the hue of the water was what really took Tyrion's breath away - a radiant turquoise, the clear, vibrant shade surely would put priceless gemstones to shame.
