(Collab with [@Applo])

It was a little while after Aemon had left when Taria decided to speak up once more. "You know, for someone getting a break when they could have been charged for treason, you're sure mouthy." She looked at the smuggler before shaking her head. She had heard the sarcasm towards Aemon, but the attitude she had gotten had been more aggressive than that. That being said, at this moment in particular she didn't feel she needed her sword out anymore; she didn't think this Tamsyn would try any tricks. 

Wanting a bit of a break from the hostile behavior, Taria decided to sheathe her sword for the time being as she waited for an answer. The poor blade had seen enough blood for the day, as it were.

As Taria’s sword slid into its sheath Tamsyn relaxed slightly although she still watched the woman like a hare watching a fox, the woman was a Greyjoy after all. “You’ll have to forgive my rudeness. My people aren't use to falling to our knees like a cheap whore every time we’re asked. Anyway your clan has committed far greater treason than I and yet here you stand the prince's little pet.”

Even as she spoke Tamsyn realised her words were stupid considering Taria had just put away her sword. She excused herself on the basis that tonight really hadn't gone to plan and that the woman's family had never given any quarter to her own.

“No, your people are apparently used to acting like cheap whores when gold is thrown your way.” Taria couldn’t keep herself from replying to the slur sent in her direction. 

“If I'm a whore, I’m a really fuckin' expensive one.” The coin purse jingled as Tamsyn rolled it between her hands to make the point.

Taria rolled her eyes at the response. “Right, a rich whore… so much better.” In her opinion, a whore was a whore, no matter how glorified. “You’re gonna find the rest of Westeros has moved on from hatin’ Greyjoys. The King forgave my father more than twenty years ago, and he’s now the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. My family helped fight against the White Walkers.” 

“My people gave far more in the fight against the Night King than you Ironborn scum.” Tamsyn spat, losing her temper for just a second. How dare Taria suggest that fighting the Night King somehow excused her family's crimes. “Everyone fought the White Walkers, even the rats!”

“Good for your people, and good for the rats.” It was satisfying to watch Tamsyn react the way she was. “The past is the past; neither of us were there during the Battle for the Dawn, so get off your high horse, smuggler. Your father or whoever the hell fought there, his deeds were his own, same for my father. Or do you wanna be judged for what all your wildling kin did south of the wall?”

Tamsyn stared at her feet as an uneasy quiet settled over the  pair. It stung to admit that Taria was right, not that Tamsyn would ever admit it aloud. What right did she have to the deeds of her forbears. For a while Tamsyn tried to come up with any responses to the Greyjoy’s words but nothing quite seemed to work and so she stayed quiet.

A silent sigh escaped Taria; she wished the Crown Prince hadn’t left her behind with this smuggler. If only she was more like Davos Seaworth, who had taken his punishment in stride, according to the stories she had read. Tamsyn here apparently deserved no such punishment and instead was given gold for her misdeeds… [i]Stop, no need to think that way.[/i] She trusted Aemon knew what he was doing. Besides, as infuriating as this woman was, there was probably some use to having her around.

One thing made her curious, however. Greyjoys [i]were [/i]respected, if not her father then her Aunt Asha, at least throughout the areas of Westeros where she travelled. So why was there so much hatred from this Tamsyn? Taria thought back, recalling the smuggler had mentioned she had grown up around Highgarden. [i]Hmm…[/i]

She looked to Tamsyn, raising an eyebrow. “You’re sure quiet now,” she commented. 

“I’d rather listen to the sounds of the waves than any more your screechy voice Greyjoy.” For a while longer there was silence between the pair and then a wicked little idea struck Tamsyn. 

“Have you ever noticed how much you can hear when there’s no one around to make any noise.” Idly Tamsyn drew her own sword out of its sheath before laying it across her knees and running her thumb over the edge, seemingly to check the blades edge. “I love this bit of the island, it’s so deserted I can almost pretend that it’s my own little kingdom. Without giving any warning Tamsyn sprang to her feet. Sword still in hand she loomed over Taria, an evil little grin playing across her lips.

Taria was indeed a little surprised, taking a step back as she looked up at the smuggler. Her eyes narrowed, but something told her this was just a show of intimidation, so as much as she wanted to pull out her sword, she stopped herself. “You know,” she started, shaking her head a little, “unfortunately for you if you use that sword on me, you’ll be liable to die. I mean, I [i]am [/i]a Greyjoy afterall, and my father and aunt are good friends with King Jon… Too bad we didn’t meet a couple of months earlier when I was just a Snow bastard.”

She let out a short laugh, one barely tinged with humour. “Don’t think you can intimidate me. I’ll bet I’ve lived a longer and less pampered life than you… Tammy.” She put her hands to her waist, her eyes boring into Tamsyn as if daring her to do as she seemed to be threatening to.

Tamsyn tried not to let her frustration a Taria’s reaction, or more accurately lack of reaction show on her face. Instead she looked down at the sword in her hand which she promptly dropped at Taria’s feet like one might a dead mouse. “Oh my Lady Greyjoy, please accept my most humble apologies” Tamsyn said in a slightly shrill voice that positively dripped with insincerity as she dipped into a deep curtsey. “I merely meant to say that we should hurry back to the weapons. We wouldn’t want your prince’s men to miss them because we were sitting out here blabbering away.”  With that Tamsyn scrunched up her eyes as she orientated herself and then set off at a brisk pace in the direction she was sure the cave was in.

Sighing at the response, Taria quickly picked up the sword from the ground and hurried after Tamsyn. She honestly didn’t want to deal with all this tension; two battles during the day already had her winded and she was never one for sharp and witty comebacks. Well, perhaps the smuggler would give her some slack when she returned the sword to her. However, Taria recognized that as a fool’s hope.