GOT ➨ Game of Thrones One Shots

Jaquen H'gar x Reader | To Kill A Mockingbird

[ Requested By @WintersLady ]

The docks were relatively quiet this evening- at least, in comparison to the levels of life and vigour that they normally produced. You were unsurprised by this, since all the main trades had come in to Braavos yesterday and the days prior, and today was simply a day for Sunday fishmongers to set out their nets, and the occasional merchant to prepare his Monday stalls; you were none of those things. You were a nobody on these lands- a recent castaway from King's Landing, finding refuge in the back of a ship rather than in the stringy noose of The Butcher's Stand, infamous hangman spot for low-lying traitors and unwanted bastards; you fell under the second category.

Your white dress was far from glimmering- it was stained and rimmed with black soil, greyed from wear. Over the top of that, you had a thin, scratchy black woollen cardigan, and some oaken leather flats, with the soles worn so thin that you may as well have taken the shoes off- in fact, you had considered it several times, but feared it might look queer. You kept your h/c shaded hair out of your face with a steel brooch in the shape of a flower, a mockery of a gift presented to you by your snide mother a couple of years ago to taunt you of your "title".

All in all, you were nothing special. You meant nothing to anybody, and you hardly remembered those you had left behind. None of them cared, so why should you? All anybody ever provided was almost two decades of constant torment and nagging; here you could be free, as long as you had deft fingertips and slick feet.

Hungrily, you eyed the food stalls being prepared for the next day- your evening meal relied on your timing, here. You walked along, running a thumb reassertively along the inside lining of your dress's recently custom fitted pockets. Before you were three stalls- fruit, dairy and wheat, and fish. If you weaved between, as they approached their wagons, you may be able to slip some wares into your large pockets unnoticed... but as you reached the end, it would be a close call bargaining with Lady Luck:

You were willing to risk it.

Idly, you made your way closer, the large cobbled pavements beneath your feet digging in to their soles, providing occasional jabs of pain- you had been walking all day, trying to find some stalls or unguarded stores in the lower part of the big city- you weren't going to throw away this opportunity not to starve for the night.

You felt a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, but played it off to the wind, not noticing the observant eyes digging in to the back of your head from an alley close by. As you approached the first stall, the shadows flickered as an unseen figure shuffled their stance, watching this pretty lady with a keen eye and a questioning mind.

Your hand reached out and danced across the stall's wooden edge, sliding in and snatching up a glinting green apple with precision, and not a second glance. You quickened your pace by a few metres, reaching the second cart as it's flabby own leant over a wagon and began scooping up armfuls of bread- you had pocketed a lump of golden cheese and a small loaf of crusty tiger bread before he had even begun to balance himself up straight again.

Finally, the fishmonger. You were slightly more cautious of him; he had a wiry look about him, and his stall was further separated than the others. As you headed towards the stall, his eyes immediately turned to you, and you felt discomfort in that immediately accusatory and untrusting glare. You couldn't walk past his stall, you'd have to... well, stall for time. Turning as smoothly as you could, you headed down towards the docks and walked to the edge of one, planting yourself down upon the ground and allowing your small legs to dangle over the edge as you stared into the royal blue waters.