Tyrion drank his way across the Narrow Sea.

Shae had betrayed him, the wench had only coveted him for his money. Tyrion should have known better by now. But some part of him had foolishly hoped that a woman finally wanted to be with him. But now his father was dead by his own hands and he was stuck on this stupid ship with Jorah.

"I'm sure Dany will love you," the older man said. He was lying so hard he may as well be a rug. Tyrion could see in his eyes that he'd only taken the dwarf as a hostage to get back into the Mother of Dragons' good graces.

The food on the ship was horrid. Bugs and rodents infested the lower decks and the rocking of the boat made food turn in his belly. So he spent his days nursing glasses of arbor red wine to numb the pain instead. Sometimes he heaved up the wine, too.

But not everything on this ship was terrible. It was his second day onboard that he'd met you, a little servant Jorah had picked up along the way. There was a curiosity about you that could not be quenched, and it seemed the Imp of Casterly Rock was the current focus of all your inquiries. You'd become his shadow since his journey across the Narrows.

And Tyrion was almost starting to grow fond of you.