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"TAKE HER!"
The young woman thrust a crying child into an unknown man's arms, staring up at him with haunting violet eyes.
As the rain whipped at their faces, the man stood statuary and watched as the girl before him held the wailing child with thin, shaking arms. The baby's howls fought over the screaming wind that encased them, but the young girl would not relent. She continued to hold the child – her child – with outstretched arms towards the man that she had never met.
A young girl, barely a woman, forcing her newborn child into a stranger's arms. Ships creaked, the seas crashed, and winds shrieked; the strangers were covered by a blanket of blackness and stars and accompanied by the moon. Such an act had taken the sailor by surprise; in all his years, something so strange had never happened. The woman before him was young and small – still growing and petite, with a frame that made her look like she'd be blown away by the harsh winds.
"Don't just stand there!" She cried as tears and rain began to roll down her porcelain cheeks. "Take her!"
The man appeared to be in a trance. Who approached an old sailor in the midst of the night with an unwanted child?
He shook his head. "No, my Lady."
The shawl that covered the woman's head was meant to keep her identity a secret, but the beauty of her wasn't something that could be so easily concealed. He would be a fool not to recognise her, and he would be an even greater fool to deny her command. And he would wear his title of foolishness with pride and honour – greater than Valour's steel.
She was a noblewoman of a noble house, and she was carrying her crying child in her arms, desperately trying to pawn it off on some other unfortunate soul. Fate had indeed dealt her a cruel hand. The Light of the Seven shone no more.
The sailor looked down at the child that was clutched in the woman's arms. The blanket that the child was swaddled in – a thing of luxury, really – flapped lamely in the harsh wind, exposing its pink toes to the unrelenting forces of nature.
She blinked. "What?" Said the woman in disbelief and disheartenment. The sailor stood back, watching her as the shawl fell off her head and her raven-coloured curls were uncovered, tumbling down slowly like molasses.
"I said no. I cannot."
"You must!" She lurched forward, clutching her baby tighter to her chest and using her free hand to grip onto the sailor's grimy sleeve. "You don't understand!"
She was right. He didn't understand. What was he meant to do with a noblewoman's child? What was there to understand? He felt dizzy just trying to comprehend such a situation. Mere minutes ago he had been at home, warm and happy by the fire with a belly full of wine. Now, when he left just to triple check his ship was tied down, he was being bombarded by a beautiful noblewoman. Madness. What did the Gods have in store for him? He was just an old, drunken sailor.
She thought for a moment, eyes scanning the ground and her grip turned vice-like. "This ship, where is it headed?" She asked offhandedly.
"Pentos, my Lady," Answered the sailor quickly.
"Yes. Pentos will do nicely," She murmured as she continued to push her child into the man's arms, so much so that he was now forced to hold the dependent creature. "You must go. Make haste."
With that, she turned to leave, swiftly walking away with no more than a pat on the shoulder for good measure. Capricious noblewomen didn't make a habit of visiting docks in the middle of a storm.
The sailor frowned, holding the child closer to his chest while he decided what to do. "M'lady!" He called out in frustration as she pulled on her hood, quickening her pace. He couldn't do this, and nor could she.
"This is your child, with all due respect. You cannot leave it like it's worth less to you than the guts of an animal."
"You don't understand," She repeated immediately, voice wavering and waning, tears once again welling up in wild violet eyes. "You could never understand."
The child had since ceased its cries after being forced into the sailor's hands, but that did very little to quell the sadness and anxiety sitting in his heart.
As she turned once again to leave, he called out, "What is the baby's name? You at least owe me that."
Yes, he thought to himself with satisfaction. He would do what needed to be done, because a split second decision clearly had more thought and planning than just abandoning a child with no reason. The ship he manned would head to Pentos, and he would take the child with him. Not because he wanted to, but because the Gods had willed it so, and he had always been one to listen to the Gods. It was a rash decision, but a decision it still was.
The woman stared blankly, holding onto her shawl against the wind as she took a cautious step forth. She hadn't offered gold or riches. Just the promise that he would never understand why she was doing what she was doing. And for some obscure reason, that seemed enough.
The sailor sucked in a harsh breath, looking down at the small child that had since remained nameless.
