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<span class="mu-i">What is the plan?</span>
Gwynfryd asks you this on your way out, a decidedly different tone from her high-handedness on the isle. It gives you pause enough to consider answering her.
“Tyrosh is not far. You will all be put on the block for auction. I need to speak with my companions,” you say. Her skin grows all the paler.
“I thought we had an arrangement,” she says.
“Do we? Have we signed a contract? Do you have gold?” you ask.
“You know that—”
“All I know is there are four other men with me. Most have no letters. They don’t care about tales of great castles. They want gold. Do you have it?” you ask again.
“My father—"
“Did not pay for you. Now he will think you dead,” you interrupt. At her silence, you continue. “You had a ring, blue and gold. Do you remember?”
“From my husband,” she numbly answers.
“Be thankful it is on someone else’s hand, then. Proof of your death. Your head is what they wanted. I spent the day drinking swill and convincing them otherwise,” you explain.
“Who in the Mother’s name would want my <span class="mu-i">head</span>?” she incredulously asks.
“Some Westerosi. Ever met a man you’d describe as pink?” you ask her.
“I do not tend to describe anyone as pink,” she answers, lost in thought.
“Yes, yes. That would be unkind. Wouldn’t want to offend someone after your life,” you sigh. “Do you have a name or no?”
“I will need to think…”
“So, you don’t know,” you translate.
“I said I need time to think,” she repeats with a glare.
“Did you please your husband?” you ask her.
“How could you even ask that of me?” she reddens in her growing outrage. It takes little to flush her delicate skin.
“It is a simple question. You have shown no other use beyond what you might offer on your back. Women with no craft are stripped bare on the block,” you explain. “How else would your worth be judged but for your body?”
“If you honestly believe me to be a simple… whore…” she actually tears up struggling with the word, “then do your worst. Show me you are less of a man like the others.”
You stare her down, frustration growing at her stubbornness and flowing tears. “Prove your worth,” is all you say before leaving her to gather your men.
