A Furious Thing

The Narrow Sea and Tarth

Something about the captain made Arya's nose itch. He looked nice enough, and the other passengers didn't seem to notice anything , but she wasn't eager to board his ship. Still, she did, because his price was the cheapest, and if Lady Brienne decided to deliver her back to her father, she'd need a way to escape the island.

She'd joined on the ugly old ship, called the Shy Maid, by six other passengers. There was a family of three looking to return home, a small reed-like old man who muttered to himself almost constantly, and a pair of hooded men who never left their cabin. Arya knew because she'd taken to watching out for them.

Arya took well to the sway of the ship, unlike a certain direwolf, and it wasn't very long before she was scrambling over railing and up ropes. The crew were cheerfully accepting, and even seemed to enjoy her pestering for a job or task to complete. It was in this easy companionship that she learned they were smugglers who'd decided to make quick coin by ferrying a few passengers. It hardly bothered her, just like being called Snow stopped chafing after her trip with Red and Grenn and Artie. It's what the captain and his crew knew her as.

It was easier on the road, among other travelers, to pretend that being a bastard didn't bother her. They hardly cared at all about who her parents were. At Winterfell, she needed to act as if her station didn't bother her, and smile while Jon and Sansa and Robb got all of their father's love and praise, while being constantly reminded that she was a Snow, and therefore less than them. These men didn't care. Half of them were also bastards, and the other half had fathered some.

She didn't mind the others on the ship either. The captain's wife, Ysilla, was kind and cooked for everyone onboard, and the old man, though mad, had an armory of dirty jokes to tell at supper. The only people she never spoke to were the mysterious hooded men. She wondered if they might be some of the rumored faceless men. The Shy Maid was a Rhoynish ship. That was in Essos, just like Braavos.

It was both exciting and disappointing to spot Tarth on the sixth day. It was like the docks of Maidenpool once again, saying goodbye to these friends she'd only just made. When they reached port in one of Tarth's few towns, she hugged Captain Yandry around the waist.

"We'll be seeing each other again, I think, wolf-girl," he assured her.

"How do you know?" she asked, stepping away from the hug to sling her bag over her shoulder.

"I've got a knack for guessing correctly. A real help when it comes to dice games."

She left the ship with that assurance, and took her first step onto the Sapphire Isle. She knew now why it was called that. From the clear sky to the azure water surrounding it, Tarth was flushed with blue. It was beautiful place, with Summer flowers blooming all around. The town she found herself in was modestly sized- smaller than Maidenpool but bigger than Winter Town- and clean. People bustled about their business as they chatted with friends and neighbors. This wasn't the worst place she could live, she decided, and left the dock behind in favor is an inn.

The Green Goat was large, if not the nicest inn she'd ever been to. The place seemed warm and owner greeted her enthusiastically. He was thin and balding, with a smile not unlike most other merchants, pulled out especially for customers. That was, until he spotted Nymeria.

"Good day, Miss!" he exclaimed, voice shrill. She greeted him back, mayhaps a bit less enthusiastically.

"I'll need a room for the night," she told him.

"Of course, of course. And, uh, will you be eating down in the- in the common room?" "Yes. Can i get a tub sent up, as well? I seem to be in need of a bath," she japed. The man laughed, but Arya doubted it was sincere. It hadn't been very funny, and he sounded hysterical.