Tyrion Lannister.
The name snapped Lynn's relaxed nerves, worn from a night of indulgence, back into tension.
He turned over the letter in his hand, watching the dwarf enter the study.
"My apologies for the early intrusion."
Tyrion bowed impeccably.
His mismatched green and black eyes surveyed the study with great interest.
"I heard Littlefinger's taste was always poor. Now it seems the rumors are true."
He pointed to a tacky oil painting of a maiden picking flowers on the wall.
"You'd best burn that. Replace it with a map of King's Landing, or hang a few Valyrian steel swords. Anything would be better than that."
Lynn gestured for him to sit and poured him a cup of wine.
"You made quite a sum of gold dragons off Lord Baelish."
Tyrion took the cup and drained it in one gulp.
"So, you're here to collect debt for him?" Lynn asked.
"Collect debt?"
Tyrion let out a short laugh.
"I'd be thrilled if you stripped him of his last pair of breeches."
Tyrion slammed the cup onto the table, the smile vanishing from his face.
"I am not here to drink, Ser Lynn."
"I am here to buy an answer."
Tyrion's gaze grew sharp.
"I am certain you possess some prophetic ability, and that you know of things past."
"I don't care how you know. I just want to ask one thing."
Tyrion's voice suddenly carried a trace of bitterness.
"My... my first wife, Tysha."
Speaking the name seemed to drain all his courage.
"That incident... was it truly arranged by my father?"
Deathly silence fell over the study.
Outside the window, the raven let out a few caws, sounding exceptionally harsh.
Lynn looked at the man before him.
This dwarf with the brilliant mind, regarded as a stain by his family, the Lannister who wore a jester's mask for the world.
In his mismatched eyes swirled anticipation, fear, and a hope humble as dust.
He was hoping Lynn would tell him it was just an accident.
He was hoping the cold, ruthless father he worshipped wasn't cruel to that extent.
"No."
Lynn said only one word.
But it ruthlessly shattered the last line of defense in Tyrion's heart.
Tyrion's body swayed violently, nearly falling from the chair.
The blood drained from his face instantly.
The light in his eyes dimmed rapidly.
"It was... him..."
Tyrion muttered, as if repeating a nightmare he had long guessed but refused to believe.
"Your father, Lord Tywin, believed your marriage to a crofter's daughter was an insult to the noble name of Lannister."
Lynn's voice was calm, without a ripple.
"So..."
Tyrion suddenly roared like a wounded beast.
He leaped up and swept the wine cup off the table.
The crystal cup hit the floor but didn't break, spinning into the corner.
Crimson wine spilled out, blooming into a striking pool of blood-color on the floor.
"Haha... Hahahaha..."
Tyrion laughed suddenly, a raspy, wretched sound uglier than crying.
"My father... my great father..."
"And my brave brother..."
His body shook violently, tears and snot streaming freely down his twisted face.
"Jaime told me she was a whore, hired by me... He said it was all just a joke..."
"I believed him... I actually believed him..."
"I watched her... watched those guards... one after another..."
"And the last one was me..."
"I gave her a gold dragon, because a Lannister is nobler than others, and always pays his debts..."
He crouched down, clutching his head in agony, curling into a ball.
All of Westeros thought him the Imp of Casterly Rock.
But who knew that inside this "demon" lived a boy killed by his own father and brother?
Tywin Lannister's child.
Cersei hated Tywin. Jaime feared Tywin.
Only Tyrion.
The son Tywin loathed most, the one he wanted dead, genuinely worshipped and loved him.
How laughable.
How ironic.
Lynn didn't help him up, nor did he offer any comforting words.
He just watched quietly.
Allowing Tyrion to vent the pain and despair suppressed for over a decade.
After a long time.
Tyrion's sobbing gradually ceased.
He looked up. His tear-stained face held no cynicism, no pain, only a dead emptiness.
"Thank you."
He said to Lynn.
"Thank you for telling me the truth."
"Even though it is uglier than I imagined."
He bent down unsteadily, picked up the cup from the floor, returned to the table, and refilled it.
"To the ugly truth."
He downed the strong wine, the burning liquid searing his throat, yet not even a fraction as painful as his heart.
"They don't love you, Tyrion."
Lynn finally spoke.
"In your father's eyes, from the moment you were born, you were the stain of his life."
"In your sister's eyes, you are the murderer who killed her mother."
"In your brother's eyes, you are a weak little brother lacking courage who needs protection."
"But so what?"
Lynn walked up to Tyrion, looking down at him.
"A person's worth is never decided by their birth or name."
"The name Lannister is glory to you, but also shackles."
"Since they don't love you, why live humbly like a dog for that name?"
Tyrion looked up, a faint light reigniting in his mismatched eyes.
"I am preparing to go to Essos."
Lynn said.
"To that vast eastern continent."
"There are no Seven Kingdoms, no Iron Throne, and no Lannisters there."
"There, people only recognize gold and steel."
"Whether a man's name is Tyrion or Lynn doesn't matter at all."
"What matters is how much value he can create, how much power he can wield."
"Come with me, Tyrion."
Lynn extended his hand.
"Leave this cage that disgusts you."
"Go to a new world, and use your mind to build the kingdom you want."
Tyrion looked at Lynn's outstretched hand.
Then at his own stunted, misshapen hands.
He smiled suddenly, a genuine smile from the heart.
"To Essos?"
"Sounds nice."
"Are the brothels there more interesting than in King's Landing?"
He didn't take Lynn's hand.
Instead, he downed the remaining wine in his cup.
He walked to the window, watching the rising sun in the distance.
Golden light dyed all of King's Landing in a layer of false splendor.
"I am indeed tired of this place."
Tyrion whispered.
"Tired of seeing my father's disappointed face every time I look up."
"Tired of smelling my sister's hypocritical perfume every time I breathe."
"I am tired of everything in this city."
"I imagine my family is eager for me to leave."
He turned, looking at Lynn.
In those eyes shone a light called rebirth.
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