"You don't understand…"
Tyrrion's expression suddenly softens, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic urgency beneath its usual gruffness. "You don't know what it's like."
I keep my grip tight on Enrydral's neck, though I turn my attention fully to the deformed dwarf.
There's something in his expression—a vulnerability I've never seen before.
"Enlighten me, then."
Tyrrion takes a step closer, his misshapen body moving with surprising dignity despite its grotesque appearance.
"Do you know what it's like to be brilliant and have no one see it? To create wonders that could change the world, only to have people recoil at the sight of you before you can even speak?" His voice cracks slightly. "I was born like this. Deformed. Ugly. My own mother couldn't look at me without flinching."
I remain silent, allowing him to continue.
