Chapter 114: Tyrion and Tysha!

"Tysha? Who is that?" Damian asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. The name was clearly feminine, and he wondered why Tyrion would mistake him for someone with such a name.

The confusion quickly gave way to realization. Damian recalled the tragic story from the books: Tysha was the woman Tyrion had secretly married. When Tywin Lannister discovered the union, he was incensed that his son had married a common woman. In a cruel twist, Tywin ordered Jaime to tell Tyrion that Tysha was a mere prostitute whom Jaime had paid to seduce him, fabricating the whole scenario with outlaws to support the lie.

Tywin then had Tysha brutally gang-raped by his guards, each receiving a silver coin for their participation. To drive home the point, Tywin forced Tyrion to be the final man to violate her, paying Tysha a gold coin as a mark of the Lannister's worth. Afterward, Tywin had the marriage annulled, and the septons declared it as if Tyrion and Tysha had never been wed.

Believing that no girl could ever truly love him for who he was, Tyrion began to seek his pleasure with prostitutes. 

Damian's heart sank as he understood the depth of Tyrion's trauma. From what he recalled, Tysha hadn't been killed—Tywin hadn't gone that far as he thought she had learned her lesson. Instead, Tywin allowed her to live, though she was cast aside, and sent away somewhere by Casterly Rock's steward. 

Damian sighed, feeling a pang of pity for Tysha’s plight.

Tyrion, now struggling to regain his composure, attempted to swat Damian’s hand away from his shoulder but found himself lacking the strength. "Get your hands off me, you lowlife. I’m a Lannister!" he slurred drunkenly.

Damian's initial sympathy for the dwarf quickly dissipated at the slur. He was tempted to knock Tyrion’s head off, but he reined in his anger. Instead, he channeled his magic, sending a warm, soothing current into Tyrion's body. The effect was almost immediate; the warmth seemed to clear the haze of alcohol from his mind, bringing him back to his senses, if only partially.

Damian had honed his ability to use magic to combat the effects of liquor, a skill that had served him well in countless drinking contests.

Seeing Tyrion’s dazed expression shift to one of confusion, Damian introduced himself with a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Lord Tyrion Lannister. I’m Damian Solstark, Lord of Iron Island and Pyke.”

“Lord Damian!? What are you doing here?” Tyrion asked, his voice a mix of surprise and curiosity, the effects of the liquor gradually receding from his faculties.

“Just to sell some specialties of Pyke and make some friends,” Damian replied smoothly.

At this moment, Ser Gavin stepped forward to explain their destination.

Hearing this, Tyrion, whose curiosity was piqued, quickly inquired, “What goods did you bring?”

“Mostly iron and tin, and some lead,” Damian said.

“How much?” Tyrion pressed.

“Altogether, I have brought around 130 tons of refined metal,” Damian revealed.

“It’s refined?” Tyrion asked again, his interest clearly sparked.

“Oh, no need to make such a long journey, dear Lord Damian. We Lannisters are indeed interested in buying your goods. And I assure you, you won’t find a better price elsewhere,” Tyrion assured with a reassuring smile.

“If that’s the case, then why not?” Damian replied, though he still had to travel south for other purposes.

“Ser Gavin, I will take Lord Damian to Casterly Rock to meet my father,” Tyrion announced, turning to the officer. “Lord Damian, would you care to travel with me in the carriage to Casterly Rock?”

Damian nodded. “I’d be honored, Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion, just two and a half years older than Damian, found a surprising connection with him. Hearing about Damian's achievements during the Greyjoy Rebellion and his rise to become Lord of Iron Island made Tyrion feel both respect and a touch of envy. His jealousy grew when he learned that Damian had sailed to Bravos and seen the Titan. Tyrion had always dreamed of traveling the world himself, but his father’s restrictions had kept him bound to Casterly Rock.

As a boy, Tyrion had memorized the sixteen wonders described by Lomas Longstrider and liked to recite them at feasts. By the age of sixteen, he wanted to visit the Free Cities like his uncles Gerion and Tygett had done. However, Tywin had forbidden him from going, saying he was irresponsible due to his marriage to Tysha, and instead had given him the dull job of overseeing the cisterns and drains at Casterly Rock.

Now, with a hint of sadness, Tyrion began to talk about his home as it came into view. His voice carried a mix of pride and weariness.

“Casterly Rock,” he said, pointing out, “is a massive fortress carved from a great stone hill by the Sunset Sea. It’s said to look like a lion lying down at sunset, a fitting symbol for our house. The Rock stretches about six miles from west to east and is two miles wide. It rises 2,100 feet high, making it three times taller than the highest point of the Wall and even taller than the Hightower of Oldtown.”

Damian glanced up at the fortress, his eyes following the sweeping curves of its towering structure. He even saw an aerial view by Warging into Ace who was flying above.

He continued, “The Casterlys first built a fort on top, and over the years, we’ve added strong walls, gates, and watchtowers. The base of the Rock is filled with large caverns created by the sea, and the stone has been mined for centuries, leaving behind a maze of mineshafts and untapped gold.”

As they approached the entrance, Tyrion pointed to the grand opening. “Thats the Lion’s Mouth. It's a huge natural cavern, two hundred feet high. It’s reached by a wide stone staircase, big enough for twenty riders to go up side by side, leading into the heart of our castle.”

The fortress grew ever larger as they neared, and it became apparent why the Lannister were so prideful of their fortress. Damian couldn't help but be impressed by its size and grandeur.

Upon reaching the Lion’s Mouth, a group of people awaited them.

“Lord Damian, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to Casterly Rock,” Lord Gerion, known as the Laughing Lion, greeted as Damian stepped from the carriage. “I see you’ve met my nephew, the bright Tyrion.”

A slight awkwardness fell over those present as they took in Tyrion’s disheveled appearance. They knew well where Tyrion had been and what he might say in his drunken state. The thought of him meeting the Lord of the Iron Islands was a slightly embarrassing prospect.

“It was a pleasure getting to know Lord Tyrion,” Damian said honestly. Despite Tyrion's inebriation, he had found the dwarf to be engaging once sober.

“Hahaha, good to hear!” Lord Gerion chuckled. “Here, take the bread and salt of the Lannisters.” He gestured for a maid to present the traditional tray.

Damian accepted the bread and salt with a nod, eating the entire portion in adherence to the Westeros custom.