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GOT Chapter 11: A Dwarf, a Bastard, and a Queen Walk Into a Crowd
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 04:15:58 +0000 UTCTyrion, with a resigned shrug, exchanged a quick gesture with Melinda before turning around, stepping over the threshold, and lifting his gaze toward the approaching, grand wheelhouse.
The wheelhouse was impossible to miss—especially surrounded as it was by a bustling crowd. The place had suddenly turned lively.
After all, it took forty draft horses just to pull that thing. That alone kept the grooms and servants scrambling for quite a while.
Tyrion paid no mind to any of it. He simply raised a hand and rubbed his face.
He was still full of energy, truth be told. But for a dwarf, riding a horse—even if he had the stamina to service five whores in one go—meant being stuck, unmoving, on that saddle.
So all he could do was 'enjoy' the relentless chafing of his thighs against the horse’s sides.
As the queen’s brother, no one dared to restrict his movements. But that didn’t change the fact—some things just weren’t up to a dwarf to decide.
Besides, the king had never learned how to conceal his emotions. Or perhaps it was better to say he didn’t even care to.
Anyone could see the impatience etched across the fat face behind his bushy beard. He’d already cursed the 'seven bloody hells' more than once today.
So when it came to Kal’s 'foresight', Tyrion had long resigned himself to whatever suffering lay ahead.
With a faint sigh, he waved his hand and motioned for Kal to follow.
“Come on. The stuff should be just behind the wheelhouse.”
Kal gave no opinion, only mouthed something inaudible and followed along.
And so, the odd pair—one tall, one short—waded into the growing sea of people that had started to resemble a marketplace more than anything else.
Along the way, eyes occasionally turned toward their eye-catching procession.
But those glances came and went quickly. Neither Kal nor Tyrion paid them any mind.
However, just as they were pushing through the crowd and about to circle behind the wheelhouse—where the supply carts were usually stationed—the ornate door of the grand carriage suddenly swung open.
The wooden door, edged in polished metal, moved smoothly with no harsh screech thanks to careful lubrication.
Even so, the faint creak it made still managed to cut through the surrounding noise, drawing everyone’s attention in an instant.
The whole area fell silent. One by one, all heads turned toward the source of the sound.
Kal was no exception.
Poor Tyrion, though—surrounded by 'tallfolk'—could see nothing but a forest of asses.
So the clueless dwarf, though he noticed the sudden hush and found himself stopping along with the rest, could only look up at Kal with a puzzled expression, hoping the man with the better view would explain what the hell was going on.
Kal hadn’t noticed Tyrion’s gaze. But once he sensed the shift in atmosphere around them and instinctively came to a halt, his eyes followed the others toward the wheelhouse—and that was when he noticed someone.
The Kingslayer—Jaime Lannister.
As a member of the Kingsguard, he was clad in full white armor, a white cloak draped over his shoulders.
It seemed his current duty was to protect the queen, so naturally, he stood before the wheelhouse, waiting for the carriage door to open.
Yet the crowd’s eyes weren’t on this tall, striking man with flowing golden hair, emerald green eyes, and a razor-sharp smile—universally hailed as a handsome and gallant figure.
Instead, every gaze instinctively passed over him—drawn, as one, toward the door of the now-opened wheelhouse.
A moment later—
A beautiful woman stepped out, dressed in a luxurious off-shoulder red gown, her neck adorned with dazzling gold and jeweled ornaments. She descended from the resplendent carriage and came into view.
At once, Jaime turned and reached out to help her down, steadying her as she moved with grace.
Kal’s eyes followed her.
The woman emerging from the wheelhouse was strikingly beautiful. Her lavish attire only served to highlight her elegance and poise.
And this woman—the one who had stepped from the wheelhouse—was none other than Robert’s queen, Jaime Lannister’s twin sister, Cersei Lannister.
Seeing her up close, Kal had to admit—Cersei truly was stunning.
She had the signature golden curls and green eyes of House Lannister, her figure slender, her skin fair.
And unlike how she was often portrayed in those old shows—as domineering, sharp-tongued, and cold—she gave off a completely different impression.
Quite the opposite, in fact. There was no trace of arrogance or cruelty in her bearing. When she smiled, there was something unique about it—something deeply disarming.
She appeared sweet, gentle, and approachable.
Her golden curls rippled like coins basking in sunlight, gleaming and radiant.
Even just standing amid the crowd outside the wheelhouse, she was the most luminous presence—the one no eye could ignore.
Though the years had left faint traces on her after bearing three children, those signs of time only served to deepen her charm, fitting of a woman once praised as the most beautiful in the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet perhaps due to the countless eyes fixed upon her, Cersei Lannister suddenly sensed a gaze unlike the others. Just as she let down her gown and steadied her stance, those emerald eyes of hers instinctively turned toward the source of that peculiar feeling.
And then she saw a man—someone she shouldn’t have known, yet who, over the past half year, had somehow become strangely familiar to her.
Across the crowd, she met a pair of deep blue eyes fixed on her. The faint smile that had been lingering on Cersei’s face vanished at once, replaced by a cold, unreadable expression.
Jaime, who was still steadying her, immediately noticed the shift in her demeanor. Instinctively, he followed her line of sight.
And that was when he spotted him—a tall man with a clean-shaven face and strikingly clear, captivating eyes.
He stood out sharply among the crowd, towering a full head above everyone else.
Combined with his undeniably handsome features, he was impossible to overlook. Jaime saw him at a glance.
And upon seeing the man, Jaime instantly understood why Cersei’s expression had turned so sour. He could only respond with a helpless smile.
If Cersei knew this man, then of course Jaime did too.
In fact, thanks to Tyrion, he’d had more than a few dealings with him.
To one sibling, the man was a thorn in the side.
To the other… a promising young prospect.
And in the crowd, Kal had clearly noticed that Cersei had spotted him—and that her expression had soured in an instant. He could only lower his head slightly and pretend he hadn’t seen a thing.
When Cersei locked eyes with him right away—and with a face like he owed her a million gold dragons—Kal immediately prepared to slip away.
He had no interest in provoking this madwoman. No matter how beautiful she was, it wasn’t worth it.
Given his current status, it was best to avoid her altogether whenever possible. There was no need to invite unnecessary trouble and ruin his mood.
But as he lowered his head and looked at Tyrion standing in front of him, staring blankly at the crowd around them, Kal couldn’t help but find it a little amusing.
At that moment, Tyrion looked to him like a helpless little monkey—his golden hair only further highlighting the sly and wretched vibe unique to such a creature.
“Come on, dwarf. You can’t see a thing~”
“Unless you find a circus willing to craft a custom pair of stilts for you, I’d say we should get back to what we were doing!”
“Otherwise, no bananas for you~”
Crushed in the middle of the crowd, Tyrion could more or less guess what had happened, though he didn’t know the details. Still, when he heard Kal joking about him being a monkey, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
But the next second, he rolled them right back—and gave Kal a slow, deliberate once-over from head to toe.
Then a sly smile crept across Tyrion’s face, making him look even more impish than before.
He raised one hand while glancing up at the sky as if there were something worth admiring up there, all the while “absentmindedly” fiddling with the golden ring on his finger—the one carved with a lion’s head relief.
With a calm tone, he said, “You’re right, Kal…”
“So until the poor half-man gets his stilts, he’ll just have to stack some books under his feet.”
“He may still see the same limited scenery, but at least he won’t be a blind man who isn’t blind, wouldn’t you agree?”
Tyrion paused deliberately here, then cast a subtle sideways glance at his slightly puzzled bastard companion.
The smirk at the corner of his lips deepened.
“Of course, I suppose gold dragons or a high stool might achieve the same effect!”
This so-called 'Imp' had a mind as sharp as his tongue—always ready with a comeback, never content to let himself be the butt of a joke.
Even when Kal poked fun at him, Tyrion had no trouble finding a clever way to lift himself up.
And to that, Kal’s response was simple and clear—he raised a middle finger.
