Stupid weather and stupid ship that cannot fucking handle it.

Elle knew she should have chosen a different ship to board in White Harbor, one that would have taken a more direct route to Sunspear. She would have been fine if it had docked in Braavos even. But no, she just had to get onto the first boat that left the city, too big was her desire to go home.

Now she was stranded in a tiny fisher's village - in the Vale of all places - with no prospect of leaving any time soon. She wanted to punch something.

"I'm sorry, m'lady," the captain's voice sounded from behind her. When she turned around he only just raised his head from the small bow it had been in. "The ship's been more damaged than I first thought. I can't say when we'll be able to leave again."

Of course it fucking was.

"Please, there is no need to worry," she replied with a soft smile. "Such a storm is out of everyone's control."

He moved his wool cap around in his hands, stretching the fabric every now and then. Who knew that one flash of a gold dragon could do something like this to other people?

"I suppose," she continued, "that if we shall stay in this place for a while, I can take a few steps on land? Explore the village for a bit."

And maybe find something else to dress herself in. Her black clothing was comfortable, yes, but raised too many questions. It was getting too warm for it anyways.

"Yes, of course, m'lady. We'll not leave without you on board."

The roads, if they could even be called that, were not paved, instead consisting of several different layers of dirt haphazardly thrown together. Few people were walking in between the simple huts. She supposed most of them would be out on the sea during this time of day, or tending to the fields she had seen in the distance.

A woman knelt in the dirt before one of the houses. She was surrounded by several different types of plants, some small and buried halfway in the earth, some taller and wrapping around thin wooden sticks. The woman's brown hair was streaked with grey.

"Pardon me." Elle stepped in front of the small fence.

The woman looked up, her eyes focusing on Elle, wandering up and down her body.

"Yes?"

"I apologise for disturbing you but I was wondering if there was anywhere I would be able to acquire new clothing?"

The woman cocked her head to the side. "You came in on that merchant ship." A statement, not a question.

"Yes, I did. The repairs still need time, therefore I decided to explore a bit."

The woman scoffed. "Nothing much to see here." She furrowed her eyebrows. "Where exactly are you from?"

Elle was well-aware that the woman had likely recognised the origin of her clothing. No one south of the Wall wore pure black if they had any sense of mind.

"Braavos," she repeated the years-old lie. Her necklace hung heavy around her neck.

The woman did not believe her, and Elle could not fault her for that. She had always known Braavos was a poor excuse for her accent or her missing mother.

"What was it you wanted again?"

Elle was just about to answer, as the woman's eyes focused on something far behind her. She frowned and let out a deep sigh.

"Oh, not again."

Elle turned around in confusion. A small group of people was approaching the village. They were still far away, but she could make out a cart being pulled by one of them.

"Who are they?" she asked.

The way the woman looked at them, so full of disgust, Elle assumed them to be vagabonds, or notorious thieves come to threaten the village.

"They're refugees, from the war." She groaned. "This is the third group to come here. They expect us to give them food and clothing and a roof over their head. As if we don't have enough problems on our own."

"War? What war?"

"The one in the Riverlands. Ever since the Northerners crowned that boy the fighting has become even more brutal, so they say. Still doesn't mean these beggars have to come to us."

The Northerners crowned someone? The last she had heard, Robb Stark led his armies...

Of course. Robb Stark. He must be ten and seven now, in this woman's eyes still a boy. And after Ned Stark's death the Northerners must have been furious with the Iron Throne, leading to them wanting to... Either break away or lay claim to the throne themselves. The first option seemed more likely.

The door to the house swung open and another woman came walking out. She had her blonde hair tied up in a tight bun.

"Eliza, do you know..." Her gaze wandered to the distant road as well, and her face mirrored that of the other woman. She sighed. "Again?"

"Yeah, I know." The first woman, Eliza, answered as she stood up. "Let's head inside, I don't want to watch that."

She turned towards Elle again. Her gaze once again moved up and down her body, before staring directly into her eyes. Elle focused on the stone wall behind Eliza.

"Go home, child. This land will only bring you death, as it has for so many others."

The door closed with a loud thud.

Her gaze wandered into the distance again, to the refugees walking towards the village. Amongst them were three children.

Elle should head back to the ship, she knew that. There was nothing waiting for her here, nothing to gain, nothing to accomplish. War had no place for her, and the Riverlands were as foreign to her as the lands beyond Asshai. And yet...

If people were fleeing to a village like this, and often enough that it had become a nuisance to its inhabitants, what would other places look like? How many innocents had been caught up in yet another useless conflict? How much longer could they survive?

Why did she care? Sunspear was where she belonged, where the people who loved her were waiting for her. No matter how much she wanted it, she would never be some kind of knight in shining armour, come to rescue maidens locked in castles. She should go home.

Sunspear wasn't her home though, Elle reminded herself. Oberyn had made that one clear. She wanted to go back - had promised Jon to do so - but she could never again call that city home.

(What King's Landing meant to her in that regard she did not know, and was not interested in finding out.)

Whatever. She would go back to her ship, board it, and stay there. Stay holed up in her cabin, far away from any trouble, definitely not thinking about what these people were going through…

The refugees had reached the outskirts of the village. Several men were walking towards them, one of them wearing a sword at his side. And if the sentiment of the two women was any indication…

Fuck.

Elle started moving towards the two groups, tapping her fingers to her thumb in a steady rhythm.

"What is your business here?" one of the men demanded.

"We are looking for a new home." The man who had spoken was surprisingly young, he could not be that much older than Elle.

"You ain't gonna find one here. Go home."

"Please," one of the women begged. "Our homes were burned, we lost everything."

"That's no problem of ours," the man with the sword said, and his hand tightened around its hilt.

"We don't mean you no harm."

"We don't care."

This situation was a cachet of wildfire, ready to explode. She should leave.

Your heart has always been too big for this world. Oberyn's words sounded in her head.

"If you don't leave on your own we'll just have to make you."

Curses.

"There is no need for this." Elle stepped up to them. She straightened her back, the way her mother had taught her, and put on a comforting smile, the way she had taught herself. "I am sure we can solve this matter without resorting to drastic measures."

"And who are you supposed to be?" Sword-man seemed to be the more important member of the group - or he simply viewed himself that way.

"Someone averse to blood and violence. Please-" She looked between the two groups- "There must be some middle ground we can find."

"Sure," the man said. "If they leave us alone, we'll leave them alone."

"We only need a home," the young man begged again.

"Does this home need to be here?" Elle asked calmly.

She had an idea - and oh, she hated herself for it - but if it meant avoiding bloodshed and making sure everyone was safe, she would give her best to see it realised.

Some of the people looked at her strangely, but the woman answered, "No. We don't care where it is. We would go to Essos even, if we had the coin for it."

That gave her the sliver of assurance she had been needing.

In the end, Elle had sacrificed one of her gold dragons to get the seven refugees on the ship. The captain did not seem pleased, but coin was coin, and with Elle not continuing to travel with them, they had another cabin free.

The refugees had thanked her profusely. One of them even tried to give her some of their coin, but she had told them to keep it for their new life, having still enough herself from the sale of her horse.

The woman promised her she would pray to the Maiden to bless her. Elle only just kept herself from telling her the Mother would be more appropriate for their situation.

Two days later, Elle stood at the docks, watching the ship sail away towards the open sea. Wherever the winds would take them, she begged the Crone to keep them safe. It was the only thing she could do for them now.

The fisherman whom she had stayed with for the nights came up to her.

"We thank you for helping us with this."

She frowned. "I did not do it for you."

It took the man a moment to respond.

"You can stay for as long as you would like. Eliza told me you need new clothing, we can provide that for you. As well as food, if you find work you like."

And what kept them from offering the same to the refugees?

"That will not be necessary, I am leaving today." She refused to accept anything from this wretched place.

"Are you sure? I am sure we can-"

"Yes." She took a breath. "I am sure. In fact, I am leaving right now."

And so she walked right past the fisherman, away from the docks, and through the village. She ignored the people staring at her and did not stop at Eliza's house to pet her cat. Leaving the place of the altercation behind her, she could finally breathe.

Elle had nothing on her besides her clothes and her coins. And from those two, only one of them seemed remotely helpful.

"Your heart has always been too big for this world," Oberyn had once told her, after Elle had come to him crying over a fight she had with Nymeria.

"Is that a bad thing?" she had asked, still craving his approval so badly.

He had smiled back then, hugging her tightly. "Only if you open it up to the wrong people, sunshine."

She had promised Jon she would go back to her family, but she had never said when she would do it. Taking the long way still counted, did it not? And helping a few people along the way could not possibly bring any harm.

Besides - she was a princess of the realm. It was long overdue she take that responsibility seriously.

The red comet in the sky had been slowly losing its brightness.

This land will only bring you death.

Elle had always been terrible at listening to instructions.

i cannot believe i finished this book in time lmao

go and annoy me on my tumblr blog/siravalondulac