The Way Of Winter | Robb Stark

ARYADNE - XIV

THEY ROWED ON through the night, using the stars to guide them. It was dawn by the time the sailor brought them into another small cove. Smoke rose over the sand hill that bordered it, and Aryadne recognised the greyish beginnings of a town — stone buildings and sail-scattered docks — in the distance.

She was tired but had not dared to sleep, too wary of the stranger sat opposite her. Now she felt that anxiety even more. "Why are we stopping here?" she asked, clutching her satchel to her chest as she watched him climb out, pulling the boat onto the rocks.

"What d'you mean, little princess?"

"We have only been sailing for a night. You were supposed to get me out."

He merely shrugged. "I did. Not King's Landing anymore, is it? I was paid to take you from the city, and I did that. Now I've got work to return to." Stretching out the stiffness in his back, which made a terrible cracking sound, he yawned without care to hide his yellowed mouth and pointed lazily to the dunes. "Over those, you'll find Duskendale town. Baelish gave you money enough. Buy passage on a boat or a horse to wherever you wish. My job is done."

She sat a while, sulking, waiting for him to declare it all a joke. When it became apparent that he intended to leave without her, she jumped up, shouting after him, "But— But you can't just leave me! I don't know what I'm doing. And it's not safe for me on my own."

"You seemed to think it was safer than the shelter of the Red Keep. You wished to escape, little princess, now it's time to grow up. Few others get a big, strong guard to watch over them. Gods be with you."

He wandered up the beach and she was soon alone. Letting out an angered cry, she kicked the side of the boat. It only resulted in a shooting pain. She slumped down onto the rocks, muttering curses. So this was what freedom from her family meant. Perhaps it would have been wiser to just wait for one of them to kill her.

Those thoughts were not pleasant. They hung around her in terrible echoes as she sat and watched the sun come up. There was no use in staying there. With no kerchief, she had to wipe her tears and running nose on her sleeve, though it did not matter since it was already dirty. The fabric itched. She huffed again and went through her satchel once more. A bite from the hunk of bread was all she could stomach, and only a few sips from the waterskin. She counted thirty silver stags in the pouch and hoped that they would suffice. Clumsily strapping the dagger's sheath to her belt, she wrapped herself in the cloak and set off towards the dunes.

—

Duskendale was a busy town. She went unnoticed among the crowd of early risers. Along the docks, several new boats had come in and were being unloaded and loaded. She dodged a rolling barrel, earning a few shouts for being in the way. It stank here. The worker's quarter was cramped and dirty, reeking of excrement and salt air. Pinching her nose, she plunged into its depths and hoped that she would find somewhere to rest.

It started to rain partway up the main street. The shower came down fast, soaking through her cloak in minutes. The chill it brought was not entirely unpleasant. She turned her head back and let the droplets fall on her face, rolling down her flushed skin. She had never walked so much in her life. Her boots were made for riding, not walking, and the soles of her feet ached terribly.

A little tavern seemed like the best bet. It was made of jumbled stone, of all different shades and types. The walls leaned and some of the bricks had crumbled. It looked as though it could all come tumbling down at any moment. Aryadne trudged inside and threw back her hood. Inside, it was warm. A few candles were still lit around the dozen tables scattered about the place. Only a few people occupied them. They gave her strange looks as she approached the bar.