Tyrion's gaze seemed to rest carelessly on the parchment in his hand. After a moment, his pupils suddenly contracted.
Then.
He glanced at the leering mercenary across from him, then scanned the written words again in disbelief.
His lips moved. "The Targaryen-Crabb royal family's permanent... uh... envoy to the Free Cities?"
After a pause, he murmured in a daze, "Envoy..."
Tyrion's gaze shifted back to the other side. He shook the parchment in his hand. "Bronn, did you know beforehand?"
Ser Bronn gave a slight shrug. "I saw it with my own eyes. His generous Majesty Gryn wrote it himself, right in front of me."
Tyrion's chest rose and fell as he let out a long breath. "That's right. Generous, just, wise, merciful..."
For his wife and daughter, Tyrion had obeyed every one of Gryn's orders, becoming a blade both swift and useful. Even if he had to bear the consequences, he had been willing.
In the end, even if he became a scapegoat, it would give him the right to ask... to humbly beg Gryn to look after his wife and daughter.
Yes, he was a lowborn Dwarf by nature. He had never trusted anyone else, much less Gryn, one of the greatest players at the table of power. And besides...
Though he was the Old Lion's most hated dwarf son, he still carried the blood of Lannister's main line, at least by the laws and traditions of the Seven Kingdoms. Jaime the Kingslayer had donned black, while Myrcella and Tommen had been settled on Crackclaw Point, granted fine manors, clothes, and servants... Gryn had kept his deathbed promise to Cersei.
It was precisely because of those things that he had dared gamble once, becoming the traitor and butcher most hated by the Westerlands...
Though they had never considered