Author's Note: Got this idea after watching episode 5x03 and wanted to write it out. It is more a drabble.
The Last of the name Stark
"I am no one," said Arya Stark, she was within the house of black and white. Even the words were hard to say, mostly because she felt she was someone. She was the last daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. She was more than that though, spite her young age she was a fighter, and to her knowledge the last of the Stark children.
Still here in this house she was no one. Stripped of identity and what seemed like emotions. Still she bore the anger towards the ones that had wronged her, the ones that had wronged her family, the ones that had made sure she was no alone and had no one to turn to. At least that was how she felt.
The young brunette that slowly turned into a woman, was starting to feel like she was truly no one. She was far away from what was once her home, she lived only for one thing, the prayer she told herself every night, "Cersei... Walder Frey... the Mountain... Meryn Trant.."
It was what kept her going, maybe it was the wrong thing to keep a person going, the thought of revenge. Still it was enough to make her fight on and not give up. She still missed them, her family, even thought she could manage fine without them. She had thus far, she had killed men, spite the fact that she was only fifteen. In addition she had found this house as well. She was now scrubbing the floor, looking over at another girl she assumed to be at the same age. She wondered how she had ended up there. Probably in a more pleasant way than herself.
She didn't want to think of her parents anymore, it hurt her very much, in addition to the fact that she couldn't change their deaths. She took a breath, dropping the scrub in the bucket to get more water and soap on it. She moved further down the floor, moving scrub back and forth. She was thinking about Bran, wondering what he was doing right now, if he was still alive. She was sure Sansa was dead by now. Not that she really cared, well a bit. Still, she couldn't believe how she could marry Geoffery, that tyrant. She shook it off.
Come to think of it Arya was now the only right heir to Winterfell. Or so it should be considering she was the last of the Stark children. She sound have been taken over after her father and brothers, not those idiots that took their home. She let out a huff and scrubbed harder.
Maybe she could go back, and fight for their old home. Although that to her didn't really feel like and option either, after all without her family, it was nothing but sad memories there.
Or maybe she should go and try to conquer the iron throne, it was as much her family's as anyone else. There was no denying she hated the Lannister's that now was sitting at the iron throne, especially Cersei. Then again she would need a miracle if she was going to win that throne on her own. Had she done so it would have been the perfect way to avenge her father. She couldn't deny she liked the thought of that. A soft smile on her lips as she moved on to the next tiles, dreaming of how it would be to sit on the iron throne.
Because she was someone, despite that fact she had said she was not. She was Arya Stark, the last of her kind, and in her eyes the rightful ruler of the iron throne and all the seven kingdoms. And one day she would get her revenge.
Thank you for reading, feedback is always appreciated :o)