1
At first, it stung. Sharp, biting, disorienting. "You wouldn't be my family" echoed in her ears, a ringing as painful as a slap across the cheek, and the Brotherhood's stupid Lord knows she's had her fair share of those.
The Hound shifts behind her on the horse they share, the latest in her long line of captors. She knows she should be frightened. Every turn she has taken has sent her careening in an unpredictable direction, tumbling like a scrap of ribbon in the wind that carries dark news down the King's Road. But caring is the hard part these days, and maybe that's why she's so angry. Maybe that's why there's such a bitter taste in her mouth, maybe that's why tears burn a bright path against her dirty skin when she knows the stupid Hound can't see.
Later, after the gentle sway of his horse carved a steady path away from the Brotherhood, it didn't sting so much anymore. It was more like an ache, lingering, only noticeable when her mind wound its way back to Yoren or Harrenhal or him. Every black-haired farmer's son was like pressing on an old bruise, every blue-eyed blacksmith was like treading on a sore ankle. And after, when the wound healed and it didn't hurt anymore, the boys who look a little like him are nothing more than one more blue-eyed, black-haired refugee in the tide that floods the King's Road. It's simpler this way, she thinks. Simpler to forget about what's behind and accept what lay ahead.
Her family is what's ahead. At the Twins. Anyone else she has chosen to leave behind.
Author's Note: I've had this for over a year, and prior to opening this account, it would have sat in my saved folder taking up 25 MB of space until I deleted it. But, I'm here now, so here we are. Thank you for reading, leave a review if you please, Game of Thrones is owned by HBO I guess? Or the show's creators, whose names escape me.