AN: Time for a 4-day timeskip.
Tyrion reached out and touched a wheat seedling. He'd barely had to bend down to do so.
Only a week old, and it's already grown this much… In just a few weeks, it will be as tall as me.
Truly, the gods have a bad sense of humour.
Tyrion continued walking through the field, with two silent Unsullied behind him and one middle-aged farmer beside him. He looked at hundreds more seedlings. Perhaps one in twenty had a leaf slightly damaged by insects or disease. Perhaps one in thirty had a small, scraggly weed growing nearby.
"In the past, how much time would you spend tending to the fields?" Tyrion asked in almost-fluent Valyrian.
"Most o' each day, Master Dwarf," the farmer said. "Waking up before dawn ta feed the chickens, then start picking the weeds. We also used ta pick bugs off the plants, and smash the snails—ah, we used ta set out wooden boards in the fields, snails gather under 'em during the day, making it easy ta smash 'em. And that's just normal days—sowing seed and harvesting are the busiest seasons, at those times, we have every body out in the fields working 'til dark." The farmer looked at the growing wheat field with awe. "Now, we're spending less than a fourth o' that out time in the fields."
This was consistent with what Tyrion had been hearing from reports in previous days. Still, he'd wanted to see the agricultural revolution with his own eyes.
"The king 'n' queen have us spending some o' that spare time on other work, mainly building more houses," the farmer continued. "But we have still have a few more hours every day. One o' my sons is using the hours to practice singing, now. Said he wanted to try being a famous singer, the sort everyone'd want ta hear." He shook his head. "He still sounds like a dying pig… still, might as well give 'im the chance."
Normally, smallfolk having more free time would be used as an excuse by their ruler to give them additional work equal to the time. However, the monsters had been firmly against this. Their magical innovations were intended to help everyone live more leisurely lives.
Needing to work just a few days a week, I've heard… and from what I'm seeing out here, it might well be possible.
Tyrion eventually parted with the farmer and left this particular wheat field. He got back on his pony and began riding to other fields, the Unsullied still walking steadily behind him.
He inspected three more fields: another of wheat, followed by fields of beans and then cabbages. The last two were in an earlier stage of growth, having been planted later, yet Tyrion still saw shoots of green poking up through the soil. And there were still minimal signs of insect, disease or weeds.
Even now, I still wonder if this isn't all just a dream… I fear that at any moment, I might wake up to find myself in some dark alley, covered in my own vomit… possibly with bounty hunters approaching, ready to take off my head…
Tyrion suppressed a shudder.
It is time for me to return. I've never been one for the outdoors, unlike… my brother…
He turned his pony and began heading back into Meereen. His mind was now occupied by thoughts of family.
What would Jaime be doing now? Did my last words to him convince him to abandon Cersei?
That made him scoff internally. His brother was many things: brave, charismatic, a master with the sword, and also pathetically weak to their sister. The two had been having a secret affair for years, not stopping even after one became married to a king.
And Cersei… she'll have run the Seven Kingdoms into ruin by now, unless Uncle Kevan comes to put things in order.
Well, perhaps he's done just that by now. But even if he's succeeded marvellously at the job, nothing he does will stop House Lannister from being unseated from the Iron Throne. Not against dragons.
Tyrion came to a ring of grass that now covered the land outside Meereen, extending from the walls outwards for about a hundred yards. There were children playing on the grass, chasing after each other or kicking balls around.
This is the green moat… I can't see even a single sign of it being eaten, likely wouldn't even if I got down and looked more closely.
The green moat was an idea the monsters had come up with recently. It was simply grass that had been altered to be toxic to all animals and to never grow beyond a certain, short height. The former meant that animals would find no food in the green moat, while the latter meant they would find no shelter. The goal of this was to discourage vermin from the surrounding countryside from recolonising Meereen; though these children had found another purpose as well.
Though the monsters did add that it will have little effect on creatures that fly. It mainly serves as a barrier to creatures that crawl on the ground.
And on the topic of creatures that fly…
As he passed through a gate and into Meereen's streets, Tyrion began thinking about the dragons again.
Smaller, yet infinitely more deadly. They do not even need riders, they can be given orders just like human troops. Even with their smaller size, they can rival the Mountain in physical strength, as well his durability in full plate armour, and when their flight and breath are added to the mix… even one of them can defeat an army.
Tyrion now imagined the three feminised dragons being pitted in battle against the three legendary dragons rode by the Targaryens who'd conquered Westeros. Even his jaded mind could still have such boyish ideas.
They'd be inferior in strength, but could they use their intellect to prevail? Perhaps if they attacked while the larger dragons are asleep…
A few of the passersby stared and pointed at Tyrion, but fewer than before. He was starting to become a fixture of Meereen, something accepted. It probably helped that the dragon queen already had plenty of eccentrics in her court.
But the modern-day dragons have changed in other ways as well. Rather… intriguing ways…
Tyrion had seen, more than once, Viserion eyeing human men while their backs were turned. He'd seen Rhaegal looking flustered when a young Unsullied had handed something to her. Drogon hadn't shown any such signs yet… emphasis on 'yet'.
We've been doing our best to keep their desires hidden, but that won't last forever. We must find a permanent solution… but what?
As someone who'd only been in Meereen briefly, Tyrion wasn't yet trusted with top-level secrets. He suspected that Daenerys also knew about the dragons' new desires, probably being informed by Wilmarina early on. He also suspected that the queen had been informed of how to handle them.
But what of the king? Considering his tense relationship with the queen, I doubt he's been informed.
Tyrion made it to the base of the Great Pyramid. He rode his pony in, had it stabled, then began walking up the many sets of stairs.
One… small… advantage to residing here… is that it gives many opportunities for exercise… much more than the Red Keep did…
As a concession to his stature, Tyrion had been given rooms that were merely on the fifth of Great Pyramid's thirty-three levels. Even so, he was huffing and puffing by the time he reached them.
When he made to open the door, one of the guards warned, "The cream dragon is visiting."
"Viserion?" Tyrion exclaimed. "Why do all the inhuman visitors keep coming to where I live…?"
Tyrion entered to see two young women. One was juggling three wooden balls while the other watched with rapt attention.
"Tyrion!" Penny exclaimed, only to fumble the balls in her surprise. "Oh! Sorry…"
"You still made it to twenty-five seconds!" Viserion said brightly. "I counted!"
Tyrion bent down to pick up one of the balls that had rolled this way. "Greetings, Viserion. I wasn't expecting this visit."
The dragon also bent down—Tyrion looked intently as this made her breasts hang down in a fascinating manner. She clumsily picked up a second ball using a hand covered in pale-yellow scales and ending in sharp claws.
"No more work or lessons today, so got told to learn more about people, as long as I stay inside," Viserion said. "So I figured I'd learn about Penny. I haven't seen many dwarves."
Penny brushed a lock of green hair out of her eyes, then handed the third ball to Viserion. "She asked what my life is like, and when I told her about my skills, she asked to see them. Tyrion, give her that ball."
"Now it's my turn!" Viserion said. "Just watch, I'm about to beat her record!"
Tyrion handed a wooden ball to Viserion. He then saw Penny take cover under a table in the room, one now marked with a few dents, and decided he'd best follow suit.
Viserion began juggling. She didn't even last three seconds before the balls flew from her hands, ricocheting all over the room.
This is not how I expected my afternoon to be… still, it's oddly relaxing.
"It seems you've gotten quite good at juggling, Penny," Tyrion said, while Viserion cursed and picked up the balls.
"It's taken a lot of practice, but I think so as well," Penny said. "Next, I might try acrobatics."
Penny's former job had been as an entertainer in the specialised field of dwarf jousting. Tyrion had offered to find a tutor to teach her a more respectable job, but she'd turned it down. She actually enjoyed working to make others laugh, and so she was now learning new skills to that end.
There was a shout of "Not again!" and balls bounced around the room again. Tyrion held up his hands to shield his face.
She might have learned how to give herself hands, but it will take… considerably more time to learn how to use them.
A few days ago, Wilmarina had begun teaching the dragons the basics of magic. From what Tyrion had heard, this involved teaching them how to sense and manipulate "mana". The dragons could already do some magic instinctively, as shown by their flight and their fiery breaths, but this education would make them more well-rounded.
One of the first spells Wilmarina was teaching was modification of the self. The succubus had demonstrated this by making her horns, wings and tail disappear, causing her to almost appear human. By teaching the dragons this, they would be able to live more conveniently in a society built by and for people with hands.
But only Viserion had reached the point of casting the spell reliably. Rhaegal still had trouble changing her wings into hands specifically, as opposed to other shapes. And Drogon still struggled with the basics of mana.
"Like I said earlier, try not to move your hands so much," Penny advised, bringing Tyrion back to the present. "Here, I'll show you again."
Penny took back the balls and resumed juggling. Tyrion used this opportunity to leave the room and go to his personal study.
The study contained a table and a chair, both with the legs shortened to allow a dwarf to use them easily. The table was piled high with papers: reports from his network of informants, tax records, letters from influential people, maps of both Essos and Westeros, and various other things.
I haven't had such a workload since I was Hand of the King…
At first, Tyrion had been recruited as just an advisor. But after seeing his initial achievements, Daenerys had increased his salary and also his duties. It was an odd degree of trust between a Targaryen and a Lannister.
I'll say this for the girl, she can recognise competence.
Tyrion dipped a quill in ink and set to work. The sounds of Penny playing with Viserion continued in the background, but he tuned them out.
Let's see… here's a report on the status of the sewage fungi. Growth is within expectations, the first oil harvest exceeds expectations by fifteen percent, and only pure water now flows out from that pipe… hmph, it would have been nice to have this when I was managing Casterly Rock's sewers…
One of Elise's innovations was a magically improved variety of fungus that grew on waste products. It could then be mechanically pressed to release copious amounts of oil, useful for heating, lighting, cooking and myriad other purposes. The solid residue left after pressing could then be given to animals as a nutritious feed.
This initial experiment is a success. Tyrion signed at the bottom of the report. We can now plant the fungus in the remainder of the sewers as well.
Tyrion moved the report to a pile for completed documents. One down, over a hundred more to go.
And this one… ah, it's from that head priestess. Galazza Galare, or the Green Grace to use her title.
Tyrion had never cared much for religion. It was hard to be faithful when several religions spoke of dwarves as a curse from the gods, and even in the other religions, none of their divine miracles could grow a dwarf into a whole man.
What does she want now? She wants to… "bless the monsters outside the Temple of the Graces, so that all will understand their virtue in the eyes of the gods"? Tyrion snickered. Everyone in Meereen understands their virtue quite well already. I doubt the monsters want a blessing from some withered crone claiming to speak for the gods.
Still, Tyrion placed the letter in a box of letters to be sent to the monsters' manse. It wasn't his place to deny them communication, with one exception: Wilmarina had requested that any letter that was just a marriage proposal could be destroyed immediately.
Moving on… more good news, construction of housing for the new residents is about halfway complete. Though further construction may be difficult, as we've almost used up the lumber salvaged from Yunkai's army camp.
Perhaps we can break up a few ships for lumber? We have no shortage of those at the moment…
After two hours' work, Tyrion had reduced the pile of pending documents by two-thirds, which he considered acceptable. He set down his quill and looked out the window at the setting sun.
It's about time… I'd best prepare for dinner.
Tyrion went to his bedroom to check his attire and hair in front of a full-length mirror.
Not that a dwarf can ever look handsome, regardless of how he's dressed… still, I must make the best possible impression.
Tyrion went to the front room again. Here, he found Penny reading a book about the different cultures of Essos—he'd recently been teaching her how to read. Viserion was no longer present.
"Tyrion!" Penny said, looking up. "You look… what's the word…? Dashing! Yes, dashing."
Letting the lie wash over him, Tyrion said, "Thank you. And just to be clear, Penny, are you sure you don't want to attend as well? I'm sure you'd be allowed if you ask."
"It's alright. I don't want to make Lady Colette even more uncomfortable. And…" Penny looked down at her book. "I wouldn't be comfortable at a big event like that, not as a guest instead of entertainment. Not yet."
"Very well, if that's what you prefer."
"But you can save some food for me. If... if that's alright."
Tyrion bade goodbye to Penny and left. He climbed three flights of stairs to reach a banquet hall on the eighth level. The doors to this were closed and heavily guarded.
For a moment, Tyrion feared the guards would sneer and exclude him from the event due to his dwarfishness. But they simply opened one door partially, allowing him to step through, then they immediately closed the door behind him.
Within was a long table piled high with food on golden platters. Many of the dishes were unfamiliar to Tyrion, but the general setting of a feast was familiar to him. It was the people here who drew his attention.
Tyrion took in the rest of the people in the banquet hall.
First, there was Queen Daenerys herself, dressed in a deep red gown and seated at the head of the table. Next to her was King Hizdahr, dressed in a cloth-of-gold tokar.
Seated to the royals' left were the three dragons. All the dragons were wearing fine dresses tonight, even Drogon, to her obvious discomfort. The dragons' chairs had large holes in the backs to allow for tails.
Seated just beyond the dragons was Barristan Selmy, who was wearing yellow and brown silks instead of his usual armour, and young Missandei, wearing a colourful dress with a butterfly motif.
Tyrion sat in an empty chair that lay just beyond Missandei. The past him might have felt indignation at being seated lower than a little girl, but the present him was glad to have a seat at such a prestigious event.
Many others were hoping for a seat at this dinner and failed. Great Masters beyond count, the Green Grace, a certain bear from the North of Westeros… I stand above them all, at least for tonight.
He noticed the three empty chairs on the other side of the table, as well as a big space with no chairs at all. Yet in front of this space was tableware for one person.
"The most important guests have yet to arrive," Missandei explained quietly.
They waited for a few more minutes. There was some conversation, none of it lasting for long. And then the door to the banquet hall opened again.
Tyrion saw a woman in a gown of deep purple that fit well with her blue hair and blue eyes. The gown had short sleeves, exposing a pair of the most perfect arms Tyrion had ever seen… aside from the scars on her right forearm, seemingly left by the fangs of a large beast.
She walked along the table, moving so smoothly that one would never guess she was missing two senses. And when she walked past him, Tyrion saw that the back of her gown had a large opening for her wings. This opening also bared a good portion of flawless skin, along with an expanse of reddened skin.
A less experienced man might have made a fool of himself by just staring dumbly. Tyrion had enough presence of mind to look away.
That… is a woman who kings and emperors would go to war over. Though of course, she could easily fight off any who did not interest her…
Wilmarina took a seat right near the head of the table, while her daughters and stepdaughter took their seats beyond her.
And this was thus the first time Tyrion saw Colette's true form up close. She had light green skin like spring leaves, making her distinct from everyone else at the table. But if she didn't have that, then she might have been mistaken for a relative of Daenerys, having silver hair and pink eyes that could be seen as purple. She looked nervous, yet also determined to be here without hiding behind her petals.
Tyrion was also now able to smell the alraune. Her fragrance was somewhat different from any of the flowers he'd smelled in the past, and it surpassed all of them with its gentle sweetness… and this when she was on the other side of the table. Had she been seated next to Tyrion, her fragrance might have been so intense as to make him lose all self-control. Queens and empresses would kill to get a perfume that smelled half as good as this.
I have many questions about how one can exist as a part-plant, Tyrion thought. For now, I shall be a polite guest, and only admire their beauty for brief moments.
Tyrion looked at the four latest guests: Wilmarina dressed in purple, Amelia in gold, Elise in black and Colette in purple. He noticed that Wilmarina and Amelia had the same exaggerated hourglass figure. It was something concealed until now by the white shirt which Wilmarina usually wore, and which he now realised was loose-fitting.
"Our apologies for the delay," Wilmarina said. "It took us longer to prepare than expected."
Amelia shot a look at her mother. Tyrion wondered if this was because Wilmarina disapproved of her daughter's choice of dress, or because her daughter had worked hard to make Wilmarina dress up for tonight. Either possibility was plausible.
To be fair, the younger's dress does expose a scandalous amount of cleavage… not that I have any complaints.
"None of us begrudges you a few minutes," Daenerys said. "Now that we have all gathered, it is time to begin."
"An impressive variety of dishes is on offer tonight," Hizdahr said. "I shall introduce a few—"
"Enough already!" Drogon said, stomping on the floor loudly. She bared her teeth, all of which were now present again. "Why're we waiting around when there's food!?"
"Drogon."
Daenerys said this one word. That was all that was necessary to make the dragon flinch.
"That is not proper etiquette. Meals are more enjoyable when eaten in company. That's why we've been waiting. Do you understand?"
Tyrion knew that this dinner had more purpose than simple enjoyment. Still, he kept silent as a flustered Drogon muttered, "Yes, Mother."
"…As it's clear we're all quite hungry, I won't delay you with introductions," Hizdahr said. "Let us begin."
They began eating. Tyrion had to give credit to the chefs, there was indeed an impressive variety on offer. There was plenty of meat, as typical for Ghiscari cuisine, though the roasted horse was more likely to be a Dothraki idea. There were also eight kinds of seafood, over two dozen kinds of vegetables, nine different pastries… Among the variety, Tyrion even saw a few dishes he recognised from Westeros.
Though the chefs aren't present to receive any praise, Tyrion thought. This dinner is to be as private as possible, to make things more comfortable for one young alraune.
Tyrion did his best to appear like he was simply enjoying dinner. In truth, he was also catching glimpses of the others as they ate, as well as listening to others' conversations.
Wilmarina showed few signs of enjoying her food and drink, but neither did she seem to hate it. This was consistent with how she behaved in other public situations.
She reminds me of that time I saw Stannis Baratheon at a meal. Though of course, she looks nothing like him…
I heard Stannis had taken in a beautiful foreign sorceress. Perhaps if you combined the two, his sternness with her beauty and magic…
My mind goes in strange tangents, sometimes.
Wilmarina showed more emotion whenever she told her daughters to eat a more balanced diet, which happened at least once every five minutes.
Seeing her do that made Tyrion feel an inexplicable sense of sorrow. He hid that behind his cheerful mask.
Tyrion also watched the dragons eating. Viserion did a passable job, using her hands to manipulate cutlery and pick up her goblet—one filled with white wine. Rhaegal was limited to her wings, but she was quite dexterous at using them. And Drogon, also limited to her wings… was making an effort, that was the best way to describe it.
About a quarter of an hour in, Daenerys asked, "Do you have any similar dishes where you come from?"
"A few," Wilmarina replied. She wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Our country used to have limited focus on cuisine, but that's changed in recent years. Now, there are many dishes from other countries, just like on this table now."
"But I think the ones here are higher in quality," Elise said. "No offense meant, Mother."
"They are prepared by professionals, so that's to be expected," Wilmarina said.
"Pardon me… but do I understand that correctly?" Hizdahr said. "Royal Sorceress, do you help in meal preparation in your family?"
"I'm one of several. We take turns in preparing meals each day."
Hearing those words shocked Tyrion. Hizdahr, Barristan and Missandei also looked shocked for a moment, but they forced their faces back to normal, the former more quickly than the latter. The dragons didn't care, which made sense since they were still too inexperienced to know why Wilmarina's statement was unusual. Interestingly, Daenerys wasn't shocked either.
The queen was with her for a few days, out in the wilderness… did Wilmarina perhaps cook during that time?
More importantly… she has combat skills exceeding heroes from the legends, miraculous healing that no supposed saint could match, beauty that the likes of Daenerys and Cersei would envy, and is even adept at politics… yet in her original life, she was doing such menial work.
A fool might tell her she is wasting her skills, tell her she could be doing so much more… None of those at this table is a fool, so we'll all be staying silent.
Wilmarina had continued eating normally after her revelation. But Tyrion suspected that she'd revealed this information to see how others would react to it, to learn more about the other major figures in Meereen.
Have I passed her test? Or have I failed already?
Various other topics were discussed for a while. Then came another one that drew Tyrion's interest.
"Meereen is safe and prosperous now, thanks to your efforts," Daenerys said.
"But not all threats have been removed," Wilmarina said. "Many of the Sons of the Harpy were never caught."
More than one person began looking at Hizdahr. While the nobleman was no longer suspected of attempting to poison Daenerys, it was still an open secret that he had some link to the Sons.
"…I believe they will not commit any more murders," Hizdahr said carefully. "Not when Meereen is so safe and prosperous, as my queen said."
"But not everyone acts on pure rationality," Tyrion pointed out. "For fanatics, the goal is something that must be achieved, no matter the obstacles in the way."
Hizdahr maintained a neutral expression. Internally, he was probably furious at Tyrion for insulting what might be his friends and relatives.
"That kind of fanaticism would certainly be dangerous," Wilmarina said. "But if the majority of the people, from all social classes, have no desire for violence, then these fanatics would be few and isolated."
"Indeed," Hizdahr said. "You are among the wisest people I have ever met, Royal Sorceress."
"C-Can we talk about something else?" Colette said timidly.
"Of course, Colette, I'm sorry," Wilmarina said. "Then I'd like to ask about the ingredients in this salad…"
Tyrion raised his goblet to his lips and took a long drink of wine. It helped disguise the satisfied smile on his face.
I've learned something new tonight… for just now, she spoke with the air of one who has experience. It sheds a little more light on her mysterious past.
The dinner continued. Unlike a normal meal involving royalty, no new courses were brought out midway. This was to account for Colette and her issues with strangers. But the food already on the table was more than enough.
Tyrion kept track of how much alcohol others consumed. Wilmarina had one goblet of red wine, another of white wine, and a third of whisky, refusing anything further. This was apparently to set a good example for her daughters, for she also stopped them from drinking past three. Daenerys took an even stricter approach, only drinking one goblet of wine and then forbidding the dragons from having more than her.
Sensible, Tyrion thought, recalling an incident from three days ago. While their tolerance for alcohol is much higher than humans', we do not want to risk the… potential consequences… should they become intoxicated.
As for Tyrion himself, he allowed himself five drinks of various kinds. His body might be small, but his tolerance for alcohol was great, and he wouldn't lose his faculties unless he drank far more than five.
They have some excellent vintages here, may as well make the most of this opportunity.
When they were finished with the main courses, they moved on to the desserts. Though in the case of Elise, she'd started on desserts while she was still eating the main courses.
It was at this time that Tyrion heard words that made him spit out his food.
"Hey, can you tell me ways to get a mate?" Viserion asked those across the table.
That question caused so much surprise, nobody even noticed the dwarf who'd now made a mess.
"V-Viserion," Daenerys said. "Now is not the appropriate time for such questions."
"But I don't want to wait anymore!" Viserion protested. "And one of them's already got a mate," she pointed at Wilmarina, "and the others—hey, do any of you have mates at home!?"
The monsters flinched. Elise opened her mouth, but Amelia slapped a hand over it before the former could say a word.
Well, now… this should be interesting…
One of the greatest mysteries was how exactly the monsters procreated. The four here were all female, and they'd mentioned other mothers and other daughters. Furthermore, they'd transformed the dragons—by means that were also a mystery—into beings similar to them, including being female.
By collating the reports I've received, their family includes a father and one stepson… it does not seem like any sons have been born.
"And my sisters are interested in mates too!" Viserion said. "Tell them!"
Rhaegal jumped in her chair. "I, ah, that's not quite… ahh…"
"Hey, it's rude to reveal things like that without permission," Amelia said. "If you want us to tell anything, you shouldn't do that."
"Alright, I won't do it again," Viserion said, a bit snootily. "Then how can we get mates?"
Drogon snorted. "I don't need to listen to this. I'll only take a mate who's as strong as me."
That was something that made Tyrion raise an eyebrow. He'd heard tales of Drogon overpowering the other dragons while on the training ground. And the other dragons were so strong that even groups of armed and armoured men stood no chance against them.
"This is not something to discuss here," Wilmarina said.
All three of the dragons, including Viserion, became quiet and still. They respected their mother but they feared Wilmarina.
"If you wish to know, then I will tell you," Wilmarina continued. "But I will tell this only to you three and your mother. Your mother can share this information with others she consider trustworthy. That can happen after dinner is finished."
There were no objections. Dinner resumed with a much less cheerful mood than before.
Tyrion brought a piece of tuna meat to his mouth, but he could hardly taste it.
Now I can't stop thinking about it.
In the legends, beautiful female creatures are predators of men. Some use men to procreate, but this is fatal to the men in question… well, not always. Sometimes it merely shortens their lifespan, sometimes it permanently addles their minds, as they cannot forget that inhuman pleasure…
The thought would have made Tyrion hard under normal circumstances. Now, it just made him feel nervous.
I've been having the monsters watched for as long as I've had any power here. No doubt everyone else is having them watched as well. So far, they've shown no signs of being predators. And their own stories suggest the men in their lives are alive and well…
Once they were finished eating, Wilmarina went off with Daenerys and the dragons. The others remained in the banquet hall.
"Well… how does it feel, not being considered trustworthy by your wife?" Tyrion said to the king.
Hizdahr glared at Tyrion. However, he didn't rise to the bait, perhaps by retorting that a mere dwarf wouldn't know what it was like to have a wife.
"Hey, there's no need for that!"
Tyrion and Hizdahr both looked at Amelia, who was now standing up. The first and probably also the second noticed that Colette was now shaking.
"My apologies," Tyrion said. "I've drunk too much, it seems."
"There is abundant food still on the table," Missandei pointed out. "Perhaps we could occupy ourselves in enjoying more of it."
Tyrion picked up an egg tart adorned with little pieces of fruit. "Wise words. Let us all follow them."
Aside from Tyrion, only a couple of people resumed eating. The rest occupied themselves with other activities. Elise started asking Missandei about her home of Naath, while—to Tyrion's surprise—Barristan left his seat and began talking to Hizdahr quietly.
Eventually, Wilmarina returned alone.
"Daenerys and her daughters have retired for the night," she reported. "Unless anyone would like to continue, I believe this meal should be brought to a close."
Everyone stood up from their seats—barring Colette, who remained seated in her flower. They bid each other farewell and filed out of the banquet hall.
"Might I have a moment of your time, Royal Sorceress?" Tyrion called out.
Wilmarina turned around. Her intense gaze reminded Tyrion of his own sister, another famously beautiful woman of high birth—speculative in Wilmarina's case. Of course, the woman before him now was more competent in every aspect than his sister.
"Go out first," Wilmarina told her daughters.
There was a shuffling of feet, a few backwards glances, and then there were only two people left in the banquest hall.
"I was hoping to do this earlier, but… thank you," Tyrion said.
In his twenty-seven years of life, Tyrion had spoken many an insincere word. It was a necessity in a world that looked down on him, considered him a twisted and broken thing.
This expression of gratitude was completely and purely sincere.
"For helping you gain your position in the royal court?" Wilmarina said.
"For that, and for saving my life even before then," Tyrion said. "You wouldn't have noticed at the time—"
"I did. I still recall flying past two dwarves accompanied by a man in armour. Also, you told my elder daughter about your experiences."
Tyrion blinked in surprise. "Well, I appreciate being remembered. But still, I must thank you." He raised a hand before she could protest. "I know it was accidental, that you did not have my specific welfare in mind. But you still removed the necessity for me to fight. Sellswords have a poor survival record in war, and dwarf sellswords…"
"I understand. I accept your thanks, Tyrion of House Lannister."
Tyrion decided to try pushing his luck a little. "And, if I might also ask a question… would you happen to know if Daenerys plans to—"
"You spend more time near her than I," Wilmarina replied, sounding irritated. "But, to answer your question: she certainly hopes to go to Westeros. Her hesitation is for two reasons. One, she will not leave unless she can be sure Meereen—and now, the rest of Slaver's Bay—remains secure. Two, and this is something I pointed out, she does not deserve to conquer Westeros unless she can improve the lives of its people."
To improve… the lives of Westeros' people…
Tyrion had brought this up to Daenerys himself, of course, telling her that Westeros was languishing from the misrule of Cersei Lannister. But while that was probably true, it was still an excuse. He cared about the people no more than he cared about House Targaryen reclaiming its throne.
Ever since I fled Westeros… I've been plotting to tear down my accursed brother and sister… stewing in thoughts of vengeance…
Though he'd lately been deviating from his original goal. He still kept watch over Penny, despite the younger dwarf being of no benefit to his vengeance.
"I understand you wish to return home," Wilmarina said. "If you want Daenerys' help in that, then you must consider these two reasons I mentioned."
Tyrion chuckled darkly. "I fear I have trouble understanding such altruistic goals. I am merely a lecherous, kinslaying dwarf, after all."
That caused Wilmarina to avert her gaze. She looked more insecure than Tyrion had ever seen her.
"…From what I heard, you killed your father because he abused you severely, not even trying to defend you when you were framed for murder."
Tyrion could have responded in various ways. But perhaps due to the alcohol in his system, or due to being reminded of the darkest moment in his past, he elected to throw caution to the wind.
"'Abused' is rather understating it… that… that abomination made me rape my own wife! After he had his guards do it first!"
A memory came, unbidden, to Tyrion's mind: a naked girl lying under him. There were dried tears on her tears, but she'd stopped shedding fresh tears several minutes ago.
"I… I was just thirteen at the time!"
Only then did Tyrion notice the warmth trickling down his cheeks. He wiped it away with his sleeve, not caring about the high cost of the garment he wore.
"There… that's why I put a crossbow bolt in him…"
"And I don't blame you for it. Not in the slightest."
Tyrion looked up, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"For if my father had done such things… I would have been far more brutal with him," Wilmarina said quietly. "I would not have allowed him the mercy of taking his own life."
"Your…" Tyrion gasped. "What did your…?"
"He threw out my childhood friend and his parents, causing the latter two to die early deaths. He cut off my attempts to communicate with my other childhood friend. And these were merely the personal crimes." Wilmarina clenched and unclenched her fists. "For that, I betrayed him, as well as my country, religion and species. Unsurprisingly, that drove him to suicide, a fate I chose not to prevent." Her eyes drifted towards the door. "But in the end, I did find happiness. My life, I admit, has been more fortunate than yours."
Tyrion was left lost for words. He'd been hoping to obtain information at tonight's dinner—no doubt Daenerys and Hizdahr had been hoping for the same. Yet he'd just learned far more than he could ever dream of.
"Well, now we both know a great secret of the other," Wilmarina said, bringing her expression back to a neutral one. "I… trust you will not speak of this to anyone else?"
Tyrion shook his head rapidly.
"Good. And… do you know what happened to her, afterwards?"
"…I have not the slightest idea," Tyrion admitted. "My father's steward sent her away. It's been… fourteen years since then."
"And what was her name?"
"…Tysha. She was as young as I was, and—though falsely called a whore—she was just a crofter's daughter. One with the misfortune of… falling in… love with me…"
"Daenerys has spread word of your presence in Meereen. If Tysha still lives, I'm sure she's heard by now."
"…Perhaps, but I suspect she wishes I'd been executed after all."
"Continue looking for her, to apologise if nothing else."
"That… I shall do."
The succubus left. Tyrion waited in the banquet hall until servants began entering to clean up the table. Their eyes widened when they saw him still there.
…I should not have revealed that. I had no guarantee that she would sympathise with my history…
Tyrion told the servants to wrap up some food to send to Penny. He then left the banquet hall and began descending the stairs.
Why did I let it slip? It's the second time it's happened since entering Meereen, the previous time being to her daughter. Am I truly so weak to the charms of women?
But Tyrion had spoken to Daenerys several times. At no point had he let down his guard around her, not like he had tonight.
I used to think my mind was a formidable weapon, compensating for the weakness of my body.
Now… it seems I can no longer trust my own mind…
AN: I considered giving Tyrion a squire/butler/chief servant, much like how he used to have Pod. It's logical for a high-ranking noble. In the end, I decided against it. The story has enough characters already, I don't think my readers would appreciate having more characters to memorise.
To make things clear, Tyrion was right in speculating that Wilmarina had told Daenerys about monster desires already. This chapter just has her telling Daenerys more information.
In canon, Tyrion reveals his history with Tysha to Bronn, a sellsword he's only known for a short time. While normally in control of himself, Tyrion has his moments of vulnerability.
I originally planned to have Tyrion and Wilmarina play cyvasse together (following up on something from Chapter 16) after the dinner. I later reworked this into the final conversation of the chapter.