Arya felt the cold metal bars against her back as she was thrown once again into the dim confines of her cell. Lazey locked the door with a heavy clang, his movements mechanical and detached. She hesitated, her hand reaching out instinctively as if to call him back.

"Lazey…"

But the words died on her lips. She glanced at him, remembering all too well that he could no longer hear her. What use was speaking when he had lost his ears to Bloodsail's cruel justice?

In the days that followed, Arya found herself confined to her cell, her meals delivered in the company of other crew members going about their duties. She observed quietly, piecing together the ship's rhythms and routines. It became clear that if she were to search for the vulture's egg, it would have to be under cover of darkness, when most of the crew slept and the ship lay still.

Beelim's visits became a curious ritual. Each time he appeared, he wore that same sheepish smile, offering no explanation for his presence or his intentions. Arya couldn't help but wonder what game he was playing.

Yet, there was another boy with golden hair who intrigued her—a person who watched her with a mixture of curiosity and caution, as though she were some rare and dangerous creature.

One fine day, Arya's cell door swung open, but instead of Lazey, it was the boy with golden hair who stood before her. His locks cascaded just past his shoulders, framing a handsome face that bore traces of hardship rather than the refinement of royalty.

"Captain Bloodsail wants to see you," the boy spoke.

Arya raised an eyebrow, surprised to see that he lacked a tongue of pirates.

"You're that person who was peeking at me the whole time," Arya remarked bluntly. "Are you into boys? Do you like to suck—?"

The boy's face flushed with embarrassment, "No, don't get me wrong. I like girls. Like a lot."

Arya couldn't help but enjoy needling him; there was something about his straightforward nature that amused her. He seemed earnest and lacking in guile—a rarity among the cunning and treacherous crew she found herself among.

She sized him up, recognizing the potential usefulness of someone who seemed more a pawn than a player in the deadly games aboard the Dragon Mother.

Arya reminded the boy sharply, "Take me to your Captain, or you might end up losing a body part or two."

The boy's grip on Arya's wrist was surprisingly gentle as he guided her up the narrow staircase, his expression unreadable yet filled with an odd sense of knowing. Their eyes met briefly, a flicker of understanding passing between them in that fleeting moment.

"What happened?" Arya queried quietly, sensing a weight in the air that the boy seemed reluctant to acknowledge.

He shook his head slightly, his answer implicit in the silence that followed.

Without another word, he halted outside the captain's cabin, gesturing for Arya to enter alone. "I think waiting here would be a safe choice."

Arya shrugged indifferently, her curiosity outweighing any concern for her safety as she pushed open the door. Inside, Captain Bloodsail sat at his desk, his demeanor a stark contrast to the commanding presence she had encountered before. He appeared somber, his gaze fixed on something unseen on his table as Daenerys the crocodile slept soundly in the corner, mouth agape.

Bloodsail's eyes lifted to meet Arya's, lacking the vigor and intensity she had previously witnessed.

Captain Bloodsail addressed her with a hint of veiled threat. "Ye seem to get fond of my vessel, Robb. Ye like her?"

Arya's mind raced, searching for the right response amidst the captain's unsettling scrutiny. "The reason for your assumption, my captain?" she replied cautiously.

Bloodsail's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze assessing Arya with a sharpness that made her uneasy. "Ye didn't try to escape. Ye didn't even die. Unfortunately not by my hands."

Arya held her tongue, inwardly bristling at the implication of his words. Her attention shifted, her curiosity piqued by the object that had held the captain's focus earlier—the mysterious parchment on his table.

With a casual gesture, Bloodsail acknowledged Arya's unspoken interest. "Ye be eligible for two things now. Either join my crew or enter in Dany's mouth."

At the sound of her name, Daenerys stirred from her slumber, her reptilian eyes fixated on Arya with a slow, deliberate motion as she began to move closer.

Arya's resolve hardened, her decision made in the face of an unnerving choice, "I'll go with the crew option."

Captain Bloodsail rose abruptly from his chair, causing a parchment to flutter to the ground in his haste. With a commanding tone, he addressed the crocodile slumbering nearby. "My love, halt."

The massive creature obeyed instantly, freezing in place.

Arya's eyes flickered to the fallen parchment, revealing a portrait of Daenerys Targaryen. Recognition dawned on Arya—Captain Bloodsail harbored an undeniable, almost obsessive love for the legendary figure.

"Leave," Bloodsail ordered brusquely, "Ask Beelim to give ye some chore."

Arya wasted no time, exiting the cabin to find Beelim waiting just outside, as if anticipating her emergence.

The boy with the golden hair was nowhere to be seen. Where'd he go?

"I heard everything," Beelim murmured, leaning closer with a conspiratorial air.

Arya's guard went up instantly. "Great. Now assign me some chore," she just didn't like his presence.

"What task should me assign to the infamous assassin of Winterfell?" Beelim inquired smoothly.

Arya felt a surge of panic grip her heart. Her carefully guarded secret—her identity was now exposed. Beelim's casual demeanor unnerved her further, but before she could react, he reached out and pulled at her cheeks, forcing a smile onto her face.

"Smile a little," Beelim urged, his touch almost mocking in its familiarity. "Ye are going to serve under the almighty Captain."