Her Blacksmith, His Princess

Arya

Arya was sitting, eating breakfast at the inn the next morning. After she slit Ser Ilyn's throat, she had sawed his head off with Ice and dropped both pieces into the bay. No one seemed to even notice the mute wine merchant was gone.

"I hear it's the white walkers again," she overheard one man say.

"No you fuckin' idiot, it's that bloody dragon bitch," another responded.

"Aye, that's the way I hear it. She be massin' the most powerful army ever lived! Unsullied foot and dothraki horse, Second Sons to boot; and three dragons for fucks sake!" said a third.

Arya had heard of the Dragon Queen once or twice. She knew she had hatched three eggs and they had grown to be as big, fierce, and unruly as their ancestors. But an armies of unsullied, dothraki, and sellswords? That sounded big. That sounded bloody.

Arya had known since the beginning of her sister reign. She had known of her brothers legitimacy and becoming Sansa's Hand. She had known all of this and had wanted so desperately to go home and be with her family - but she had business to attend here. However, this Daenerys was threatening her home, and she couldn't have that.

"Are you sailors?" Arya asked.

Two chuckled and one smiled a three-toothed grin. One answered, "No, milady, we be pirates."

She smiled back, "Oh, I'm no lady. Any of you headed for Westeros?"

"Haven't you heard? Queen Dany be payin' and offerin' lordships to anybody who stay away from that fuckin' shit hole," the second said.

"And you think there are enough lordships for every captain in Essos who's staying off the Narrow Sea." That seemed to stump all three and they looked at each other in utter confusion. Arya took their silence for an opportunity, "Which one of you would like to be paid more gold than your ship can hold?"