Hate is a familiar emotion for her. It's easier than love. She has nothing to offer loveā€”it's left her alone and broken. Love is a waste, but hate? Hate is useful. Hate is power. Hate and vengeance and justice all serve her better. She doesn't even know if she knows how to love anymore. It's lost on her.

She rests her head on the rock supporting her, glancing at Thoros. He kept swigging at that skin of wine while tears streamed down her face. She loathes the tears and wipes them away with her dirty ragged shirt.

She is alone. Utterly alone despite the cave full of grown men. She spies Gendry asleep next to her out of the corner of her eye, and something clutches at her heart. She shoves it away, closing her eyes to stop any more tears that threatened.


He was so stupid. He was going to die. And she realizes that's what has her terrified: she knows he's going to die.

That's what they all do: they die. They die and leave her behind. Anger rolls like waves over her and she has the sudden urge to hit him while he sleeps, not the friendly jest she usually does. No. She wants to HIT him- wants him to feel everything she's feeling, the pain of everything that had transpired in the last day. She crosses her arms around herself to stop herself from picking up a rock and bashing it into the side of his head.


AU Note: I own nothing and no one. I just write from my own mind.