"But he who dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose."
― Anne Brontë
All men must die. All roses must wilt.
There is a streak of wildness behind steel eyes. Two distinctly Stark features, yet they belong to Anya Whent. A Southe...
EXPLORING AND ADVENTURING. After Cersei Lannister was dead, Arya Stark wished to sail west. No one knew what lie beyond the Sunset Sea. Whatever was there, she wanted to be the first to see it. Where Jaenara Belaerys had Terrax, she would have a ship -Nymeria she wanted to name it.
A piece of Anya's heart broke after hearing her niece talk. It was hard enough letting Jon leave for the Wall, leaving Sansa behind in King's Landing as the Blackwater burned. She couldn't imagine having to watch any of the Starks ever leave again. Anya trimmed off the extra fletching of an arrow, adding the last of them to the small pile at her side. "What about Gendry?"
The girl couldn't stop the warmth that raced up to her cheeks at the memory of the blacksmith. Sandor looked across the fire with a mirth-lace expression of I-told-you. She looked into the forest, not daring to look at her aunt. Daenerys had proclaimed Gendry Baratheon the new Lord of Storm's End during the feast following the battle. The keep had been without a ruling lord or lady since Renly died. Gendry left the morning before, riding toward a new life.
Arya looked down at Needle and ran an oiled rag over the slim blade. "I don't want to be a lady." Time may have passed, but that sentiment had not changed. Even if there was a tinge of sadness in her voice now.
"You have one life, Arya, if you love him you should at least tell him." There would likely come a day when the girl would wish she would have. Anya sat back and looked into the flames. "I've learned from my mistakes." She'd never make those mistakes again -they'd cause her too much pain.
"Jory?" Arya questioned, looking back up. She missed Jory. Jory, who always played with her when she was a girl. Who helped Anya keep her out of trouble and tend to bruises and scrapes. Who helped her toss rocks at Nymeria on the Kingsroad so Cersei wouldn't be able to have her fur. As a child, a part of her had always hoped him and her aunt would wed. Then he truly would be family.
Anya felt a lump rise in her throat. The thought of her sweet Jory brought a sad smile to her cracked lips. She hadn't even been able to tell him goodbye. Anya nodded. She had loved Jory Cassel but now it didn't matter.
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"We ain't getting through the gates," Sandor noted. Every gate had men posted on the wall and men to arm a line of ballistas. Even the Iron Gate with its rusting hinges was too fortified to risk.
Arya cast a wayward glance toward the water. "I know a way in." She led them along the muddy shore of Blackwater Bay and up an outcrop of rock. There was a gaping tunnel with a rusty grate half blocking the entrance. Some of the bars were missing -that's how she snuck out from a dark cellar under the Red Keep while chasing cats.
Sandor gripped onto the grate and pulled. With a groan of defiance, the barrier pulled free of the stone and brick. He tossed it aside followed the Stark women into darkness. Anya could hear mice squeaking and scampering away from their sloshing footfalls. She brought the edge of her cloak up to block part of the smell. Sweat, smoke, and shit. Not even colder weather could dampen the pungent, rancid smell of King's Landing.
