(Collab with [@bloonewb])

It had taken a few cups of wine to completely dissolve her anger against the man who had presumed she was a prostitute, and Taria didn't feel much better, belittling herself. She should not have allowed herself to be so affected by words. There was more at stake here than what she was or wasn't. She set the cup down decisively and decided to make her way back up onto the deck... just in time to hear someone yell out about black sails. She stood frozen on the steps for a moment before scrambling up the rest of the way to the deck, eyes trying to see past the others in the direction of the sails. She was no archer, not yet anyway. Her hand reached to her belt, pulling her sword free. 

The impact caused her her to stumble, but Taria held her ground. A small and untimely smile found its way on her lips; she was pleased she still had her sea legs whilst others may not have such an advantage. The smile left her just as quickly as she straightened up, hearing the call to attack. She wasn't a soldier, she wasn't trained in warfare. What was she doing here?! The fear that had gripped her back in King's Landing was creeping up on her, causing her chest to tighten. There was nothing she could do, however, but tighten her hold on her sword and strike at the nearest pirate. It wasn't pretty, seeing the sword hack into the man, yet not deep enough to cause too much damage. She pulled her sword, yanking it out of the man before kicking him away. The fellow was not dead, but he was hurting.

Cussing under her breath, she struck once more, this time making sure the sword actually did some fatal damage.

Arak was shuddered right out of his chair and sprawled on the floor after the ships made forcible contact. He only barely got up with the assistance of his bedstand that he heard the voice of steel meeting steel. In a rush, he scrambled about his small cabin, taking up everything metal and looking slightly like a weapon. In the corner sat his old rusty helmet. He grabbed it and set it on his head. Then, armful of sharp things in hand, Arak hobbled out of the room, bumping into wall after wall and losing a small knife every time until he was left in his hand the two things he was holding on tightest to, a footman's spear and a buckler. With these, he made his way up the steps and beheld absolute chaos. Slightly familiar faces sometimes showed up in the crowd, only to be drowned out by a horde of what seems to be armed smallfolk. The wild noises of combat disorientated him, and he couldn't tell who was supposed to be fighting. Then, a recognizable person flashed through the crowd. He charged in that direction, still unsure of himself, shouting "For the North! Winter has come!" He crashed into a random pirate, making him collapse to the floor. He then took his spear and jammed it into the back of another so hard it went straight through him and pierced a third. This, however, meant that Arak could not pull out the spear from the back of the dead pirate, no matter how hard he tried. He gave up on retrieving his last weapon, and pushed through the bodies beginning to pile up to find Taria fending off an opponent.

"Lady Greyjoy!" he shouted, waving and coming to her side. "It would be most prudent if we were to get below decks. Battle is not a fitting location for a lady and an unarmed man."

Taria turned when she heard her name. She was surprised to see Arak, not having expected to see him so soon after their parting of ways. What he said made sense as well, though wasn't that the cowards' way? Well, that would make it her way too, seeing how she'd lived most her life, but she did want to change that.

"Lady or not, I came to fight." Taria drew close the younger man, eyes a little steadier than they had been before when she was killing the pirate. "Well, to aid however I can. I'm sure the pirates will find their way down below deck..." Her voice trailed. If what she said was true, then perhaps she and Arak could help fell pirates who came down. She had a sword, and she had always been good at hiding.

"You're right," she replied, jerking her head toward the hatch. "Lead the way, we can take care of those who come down."

"Come, let us be-" Arak started, but was interrupted by the shriek of a bolt that sounded like it was getting quickly louder. He barely had time to lift his too small shield before it slammed into the flimsy sheet of metal, piercing through it and bouncing off his helm. Arak dropped the shield and lifted his hand up to where the arrow struck, then gasped as he saw blood on his fingers. His eyes blurred as pain erupted in his ear. Through his welled eyes, he could barely make out a figure approaching, and in his addled mind thought it best to take off his helmet and use that as a makeshift defense. The figure brought the sword down, and Arak put his helmet in the way. The blade carved through the top, embedding itself in the helm and proving its uselessness. Arak wrenched the helmet, sword with it, out of the pirate's hands and whacked him across the face with it, knocking him out. "No time to waste," he said, running for the hatch and dropping his little weapon.

Taria nodded, though she didn't follow just yet. The pirate was knocked out, but what if he gained consciousness and came after them? Or any of their allies? The best enemy, in this case, was a dead one. Without a second thought, she sliced at the pirate's throat and pulled her sword back. Blood welled and spilled from the cut she had just made. She paid it no further attention, however, following after Arak instead as quickly as she could. She had seen the blood on his hand and was rather concerned.

"Hey," she muttered as she neared him, "you alright there?" Below deck was looking better and better in her mind; if he was not able to fight, especially whilst injured, then it was definitely better to stay hidden.

Arak ran, clutching his left ear, in a clumsy lope for the hatch. When he reached it, he pulled the door open and waved to where he thought Taria was. She approached him and said something, but he couldn't hear it over the ringing of his ear. She looked worried, though, and he could perhaps predict what her words are.

"No trouble at all," he said, wincing in pain. "It's not but a small matter. This way, my lady. Er . . . mind your step." The hall beneath was littered with small sharp objects he dropped all over the floor. With the rocking of the ship, he had no idea where one would turn up.

"Yes, thanks for the warning." Taria was careful with where she placed her step, but that didn't mean she hadn't noticed that the younger of the two hadn't really understood what she was saying from words alone. Well, there wasn't anything she could do for it, save patch it up, but it seemed he wished to be the gallant fellow. As weak as she was in combat, she hoped she could fend off anyone.

"Small matter or not," she muttered, rather sure he wasn't going to hear her anyway, "best to get your wound checked." As she walked, she noted that her sword was still sullied with the blood from the two pirates she had killed. She would have to clean it soon. "I suppose we should be happy these aren't like those beastly things from the night of the wedding."

The sounds of the battle were beginning to get to William. It was loud, and the implications were not pretty. With his bad luck, maybe all the Starks and Targaryens present on the fight would survive the encounter, and he had to do something about that at least. So he opened the door and stumbled into the hall, where he found to his surprise Arak and his little lady friend. The former was bleeding quite heavily out of his ear. He ran over, and wrenched Arak's hand from his ear. Reflexively, Arak's other hand tried to either slap William's away or cover up his ear again, but William caught it.

"Don't," he said, looking at the wound. Sure enough, something had ran painfully through. "Honestly, I don't see what you're making such a big fuss about. Wildlings inflict bigger wounds on themselves just to have more place to jam their gold. Still though, musn't let it fester." He then turned to the woman. "Take him to the lounge. There's bound to be something I have not yet drank. Boil it, and apply to the wound. I think I can trust even you with such a paltry task." He pushed Arak into his friend's arms and strode away.