Tyrion and Tysha

Early the next morning, barely dawn, with the camp still shrouded in a thin morning mist, Gendry was already up.

First, he took out the fine fodder he had bought in advance and carefully fed Davion's mount its fill.

Then, carrying buckets, he hurried to the bank of the Blackwater Rush and fetched two buckets of clear river water.

He set them neatly outside the tent entrance, then waited quietly outside, not daring to disturb Davion's rest.

Davion woke up.

Without dawdling at all, he took the clean water Gendry handed him and briefly washed his face and hands, completing his morning wash.

Perhaps the power of the dragon bloodline within him was quietly nourishing him; even after more than a month exposed to wind and sun on the road to King's Landing, Davion's skin showed no sign of tanning.

Instead, it looked increasingly fair and smooth, making his eyes seem all the deeper and brighter.

Just as Davion was about to change, a sudden jumble of footsteps sounded outside the tent, accompanied by a few complaints.

A familiar voice rang out teasingly:

"Ah, here it is. This damned camp is so packed together, it was a nightmare to find!"

The words had barely left his mouth when the tent flap was thrown open and a short figure ducked inside.

The newcomer was none other than Tyrion Lannister.

Behind him came several soldiers in armor and deep crimson woolen cloaks embroidered with the golden lion sigil of House Lannister.

Clearly, these were all the Lannisters' household troops.

Tyrion glanced around the tent's sparse furnishings, a mocking smile curling his lips as he jeered:

"Well, Davion, weren't the silver stags those whores gave you enough to live on?"

"Why are you staying in such a cramped, shabby tent? Isn't this beneath a 'future tourney champion' like you?"

Davion was looking down as he changed. He did not get angry at the remark, merely lifting his eyes to glance at Tyrion.

"A little bat from the Riverlands like me naturally can't compare with a golden lion of the Westerlands like you."

"Having somewhere to shelter from the wind and rain is good enough."

"Besides, the silver stags the girls gave me are my spoils of war. I'm not about to spend them on such unimportant things."

Tyrion curled his lip disdainfully and scoffed:

"Whores are whores. You make it sound so grand-spoils of war? Hah, you're only fooling yourself."

Davion ignored his mockery and continued changing into a fitted black outfit.

The snug fabric outlined his solid muscles. Finally, he fastened a thick black cowhide belt and secured his longsword at his waist.

Only then did he turn and look Tyrion in the eye.

His feelings toward Tyrion had always been complicated.

Tyrion was a dwarf, scorned and mocked from birth, yet he possessed intelligence far beyond that of ordinary people.

He knew his shortcomings and understood even better how to make use of his strength: his mind!

Thus, he was seldom without a book and loved reading. In Davion's eyes, he should have been an inspiring figure, physically impaired but strong in spirit.

Yet what Tyrion had experienced in his youth made Davion understand that whenever people or matters connected to his family were involved, this clever dwarf's intelligence would instantly vanish, leaving him foolish and pitiful.

It happened when Tyrion was thirteen. He and his beloved brother Jaime rescued Tysha, a peasant girl being harassed by thugs on the road.

Eager to chase down and kill the thugs, Jaime left Tysha in Tyrion's care.

Whether it was a twist of fate or the stirrings of first love, that frail peasant girl actually fell in love with Tyrion, a dwarf the world regarded as a "monster."

The two quickly fell in love!

Tyrion even secretly paid a drunken septon to perform a simple wedding for them, and they lived happily together for two weeks.

Tysha was Tyrion's first woman, the one and only first love of his life, and the only light in his bleak childhood.

But, as ill luck would have it, his father, Tywin Lannister, eventually learned of it.

From beginning to end, Tywin believed Tysha was nothing but a lowborn peasant girl after Lannister gold, utterly unworthy of marrying his son, much less sullying the Lannister bloodline.

So he instructed Jaime to tell Tyrion a devastating lie.

Jaime obeyed his father in everything and could only tell Tyrion guiltily:

"My dear brother, it was time you did what needed doing!"

"So I paid to hire Tysha, that whore, to keep you company for a few days. Consider it your coming-of-age gift."

This normally clearheaded, meticulous dwarf never once suspected that his beloved brother would lie to him!

And so, when Tywin ordered the soldiers around him to rape Tysha, Tyrion simply stood dumbly to one side, making no move to stop them.

Because he believed his brother!

Each soldier casually tossed down a silver stag.

As for Tywin, perhaps he wanted to teach Tyrion a lesson, or perhaps he simply hated this "monster" who had utterly disgraced him!

He actually made Tyrion go last and demanded that he pay a gold dragon for her services!

His reason was that "a Lannister is a man of worth. Even when paying for a whore, he must not lose his dignity."

No one could imagine the despair and heartbreak with which Tysha, the peasant girl whose eyes had once shone as she loved Tyrion with all her joyful heart, had looked upon the man she had once loved so deeply, and upon that gold dragon.

Nor could anyone imagine what Tyrion, who had trusted his brother unconditionally since childhood, would do after learning the truth.

After that, Tysha vanished without a trace, as though she had never existed in this world.

And Tyrion sank completely into debauchery, developing a love of visiting whores.

At this thought, a trace of amusement stirred in Davion, and he decided to deliberately provoke him.

"Lord Tyrion, I never imagined such heartless words would come from someone who loves visiting whores as much as you do!"

"By the way, do you still remember the name of the first whore you paid for?"

Hearing Davion's question, Tyrion felt as though something had stabbed him hard, and his mind went blank for an instant.

A slender, frail figure with black hair, even somewhat malnourished, quietly surfaced in his mind.

That was how Tysha had looked at first, her eyes filled with shyness and love.

But in the next instant, the image abruptly twisted!

It froze on that figure curled like a discarded rag upon bloodstained sheets!

Countless cold silver stags lay piled beside her, along with one particularly conspicuous, glittering gold dragon.

Tyrion's Adam's apple bobbed sharply as he quietly swallowed, his face turning pale in an instant.

He coughed twice, then forced out a few dry chuckles.