Red Red Red, Run Run Run, Death is the One True God, a game of thrones fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or its characters

a/n: Set in season 3 after the events in the episode: The Rains of Castamere. Major character deaths, spoilers, blood, swearing, violence.

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Fic Summary: When Arya dreams, she dreams of death, she dreams of the red, the red flowing blood, warm, her own, theirs, everywhere, drowning her.

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Red-Red-Red~
Run-Run-Run~
Death is the One True God!

She was running. From what, to what—she did not know. All she knew was that she had to. A life depended on it. Hers, another's—she did not know that either. Run. Run. Run. Darkness surrounded her, night. The stars and moon overhead blocked from her view. She was in a maze of thick black tree trunks, snarled roots lay way in her path, tripping her up, trying to stop her. But she would not, could not stop. She needed to run—needed to. She couldn't stop. She leapt over the roots, pushed aside the snagging branches and tangling vines. If she fell, she picked herself up, no matter the ache. She had to keep going—run. She could feel it, closing in the darkness around her. She must keep on, her breath burning in her lungs. Run. Run. Run. The trees around her were coming closer, tightening around her, trying to trap her. She whimpered, pushing through, their thorns tearing at her flesh. The darkness splattered with red. She must run—run like the wind—run fast like a wolf and never stop. She couldn't stop. She tried to outrun it, but the red, it followed her, live a wave. Powerful, it tore down the black trees that were closing in around her, uprooting them from the black earth, chasing her down.

Come...

It whispered to her.

Join us...

It cooed in her ear.

Be red with us...

She clapped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the voices that seemed to intertwine into one. But it did no such thing.

Join us...

...Join ussss...

The trees turned from black to bone white, and horrible faces loomed all around her as she ran. Reaching out their bone-branched with bloody leaf hands. They wept red blood as they called to her, tearing at her. Run. Run. Run.

...Join us!

"No," she cried.

The bloody leaves snagged her. Bleeding black vines wrapped around her battered body. She kicked, struggled as she was torn off her feet and lifted into the black sky. All around her the forest wept red—wept blood.

Join us Arya...

"Let me go!" She writhed in the woods grasp.

The weeping vines tightened around her, steeling her breath, making her weep red. It turned her around. She screamed. The wave of red, it towered over her. The wave red, it crashed down over her. The wave of red, it swallowed her whole.

She was in a sea of red, a sea of blood. She screamed, red bubbles leaving her lips. She struggled, and the black vines dissolved. She kicked her legs, waved her arms, trying to move. Run. Swim. Get away. But the red was everywhere, the blood was all there was.

Stay with us Arya...

Be with us our child... Our sister…

Born into red...

Her vision was blurring around the edges. The red was claiming her. It was going into her ears. It was going into her nose. It was going into her mouth. It was claiming her. She fought. She could not let the red take her, but she was failing. It was taking her, filling her body. Making it red. Her limbs slowly came to a stop, pulsing with red. She floated in the sea of blood. She had stopped running. She could not fight it any longer. Her vision flared red, it had beaten her, taken her, claimed her.

... We are your blood.

...a...

...ya...

...rya...

"Arya!"

Her eyes shot open, flashes of red. She screamed, thrashing, striking out at the red. Her fist struck hard and she heard a grunt—a human grunt. Confusion swept through her as hands grasped her. Not rough, gentle but firm. Human hands. She blinked her eyes, trying to clear away the red, red, red. They cleared to flickering warmth, a shadow above her.

"Arya, it's okay. It's just a dream. You're safe now, my little wolf."

She felt strong arms wrap around her, strong, warm, caring—chasing the red away. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, the echo of a heart beat in her ear.

"Father," she whispered, pressing close.

"My little wolf, there's not need to fear."

"I was so alone, daddy."

"I know, sweetheart. But I'm here, I will always be here."

"But you..."

"Shhh." His fingers were under her chin, lifting it, making her look up.

"You..."

"That matters not."

She looked at him, looking into his eyes. Tears blurred her own. "You..."

"Yes." All around his neck it started to weep, red.

"You died..." her eyes were wide.

He smiled at her. "But I am here."

"J-Joffrey took your head." She choked.

A darker red line drew itself across his weeping neck. "So he did, my little wolf." He murmured, the soft smile on his lips. It started to grow sideways, and she felt warm blood drip on her face as he held her tight in his arm and his head slid of his neck. She screamed, her eye squeezed shut, struggling from her headless father's embrace.

...rrrya...

"Aa'yaaa!"

"Arrrya!"

Her arms were jerked out from her sides, pulled straight out. Tightness gripped her wrists like iron. Her eyes snapping open to the soft glow of red.

"Arya!" She looked over to her left and saw Bran, holding her wrist in his hand.

"Bran?" he gave her a small smile.

"Ar'!" called from her other side.

She gasped when she turned to her right. "Rickon!"

The little flaming haired boy grinned back at her, holding onto her with both his hands. "Come play!" he tugged her arm.

"Yeah, come play with us, sister." Bran pulled on her.

She looked over at them. "You two..."

"We want to play, Ar'." Rickon insisted.

"Ri—"

"Play with us!" the boy shouted. He jerked her arm.

She stumbled. "Wa—"

"What about me?" Bran tugged her the other way.

"Stop—!"

"Play with us, Arya!" They chanted together, pulling on her arms, jerking her both ways. The red glowed brighter all around them. "We want to play! Why won't you play with us? Don't you want to play?"

"L... Let go!" She tried to pull out of the boys' grasps but they were like solid iron. "Rickon, Bran..."

"PLAY WITH US, ARYA!" They screamed.

Red licked its way up their bodies, covering them, wisping. It continued over their heads and started to travel down their arms, down towards her.

"Let go, right this instant!" She shouted at them, struggling in their grasps. "I don't want to play."

"We want you to stay with us," they insisted. "Stay with us, Arya. Play with us."

"No!" she screamed as the red touched her fingers and licked up her arms. "NOO!" She thrashed. "Let go!" It covered her, covered her in wisping red.

The hold on her disappeared and she was falling.

...ya...

"Arya?"

Her eyes came open and she was in blackness, the red no longer crawling over her. A shadow hung over her and she looked up. She felt trapped.

"Are you just going to lay there?" he sounded amused.

She blinked harder, trying to clear the red haze, to see the man above her, but could not.

"Hello? Earth to Arya," a hand waved in front of her face and the haze cleared away.

"R-Robb?" she stammered.

"Who else, dear sister?" he knelt down next to her, but she still could not seem to move without him towering over her.

"I can't move, Robb. Why can't I move?" She asked him.

"Don't worry, Arya. I'm here for you," he reached for her, a tendril of red slithering down his arm from his shoulder. She tried to shrink away, away from the red, but could not move and he held her in his arms. "Don't be afraid."

She could see it all over his torso, spreading wider and wider. "Robb, the red..."

"Shhh." He held her against him.

She whimpered in his arms as his torso turned red, she could see the gapes in his flesh, crying red. It ran from him and onto her. "Please..."

"Grey Wind will protects us." He gave her an encouraging smile, red dripping from his eyes like tears, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He reach into the darkness over her shoulder and in his palm was the direwolf's head. It looked at her with blank eyes, his maw hanging open, his separated neck leaking blood onto her. "See?" giser

She screamed, forced to watch as her brother ripped his own head off his neck. Blood geysered out from the hole, raining down on them and then he stuck Grey Wind's head onto his neck. The wolf's head moved, cocking, not sitting right on Robb's still weeping neck. He looked down at her, leaning close, the direwolf's muzzle pressing against her cheek, dead eyes peering at her as she whimpered.

He murmured and the wolf's maw jiggled loosely. "You are safe with us, dear sister. Safe..." and with bloodied fingertips he reached to her face and closed her eye lids, cradling her in his red running embrace.

...ya...

"Arya? Arya?"

She opened her eyes to the soft, soothing voice calling her name. Shaking away the bloodied fingerprints from the back of her eyelids.

"Who—"

"Oh, Arya, dear? Aren't you hungry?"

She blinked in confusion at her mother, the soft red of the woman's flowing hair rippling over her naked body. "Mother—"

"Oh, Arya. I know you are wanting." She put her hand at the back of her head and pulled her forward.

"No, mother! Father. Bran and Rickon. Robb—!"

"Hush now," she cooed, pressing her to her breast.

She struggled, turning her face away.

"Arya." Her mother's voice turned hard. "You eat now, hear me."

"No!" she looked up at her mother, who glared down with hard eyes. "I don't want to."

"Fine. You do not want my milk? I know what you truly crave." Mother lifted her chin and she watched in horror as a dark red line drew across her mother's throat from ear to ear, widening, opening.

She could see it pulsing. She tried to turn away, to push away from the gaping red wound, but mother grasped either side of her head with a strength that was not human and guided it to her throat.

"NOOO!" she screamed and the wound spurted and spurted red into her mouth. She choked on it, in going down her throat, covering her face.

"Drink. Drink!" Her mother pushed her face into the gaping red wound, smothering her in red darkness as the girl struggled and writhed in her hold uselessly.

Arya...

They called out to her.

Her eyes snapped open and she was back in the dark wood. Run. Run. Run. Red chased her. They were coming for her. The red wave, it was coming for her. She cried. She whimpered. She had to get away. She could not let the red take her. She didn't want to be red.

Join us...

"No!" she screamed, "No!"

The red leaf hands grabbing for her, the bleeding black vines twisting around her legs. The tripped her up, halting her, pulling her down. She tore at them. The did not let loose but wept more and more, turning her hands red.

JOIN US...

She looked up and cried out. The red wave was upon her. It crashed down, surrounding her. She trashed and struggled, but this time the vines held her true. Red bubbles leaked from her mouth. The disturbed red in front her started to swirl and twist until it took shape. The red became impressions of the ones calling to her. Father, Bran, Rickon, Robb, Grey Wind, Mother. It was them who were calling her into the red.

Stay with us Arya...

Their voices blended together, their red liquid mouths moving. She swung at them. Her fingers went right through, not even causing a ripple.

"No..."

Be with us our child... our sister...

"Please,"

The red went inside of her, through anywhere it could. Filling her up, claiming her. Taking her with them. Her vision blurred red, her body shutting down, floating in the red.

"Why?"

Their face circled her, surrounding her, pushing in close to her.

You belong with us...

Born into red...

... we are your blood.

And then they swarmed her. She gave one last scream as the red impressions of her dead family shoved themselves down her throat.

"—I said... Stop yer screaming, little bitch!"

She flet a sharp pain in her side and opened her eyes to find the Hound towering over her, his burned face twisted in anger. "Sorry," she muttered, still seeing a red haze.

"Do it again, and I'll give you true cause to scream, little cunt."

"I said alright!" She turned on her side as he walked away back to his sleeping spot. She did not close her eyes. She did not want to see the red again but she did not have to sleep to see it—she saw it always now. Her family... it was just a nightmare—true as it might be. They were dead, all of them. Death had taken each and everyone of them in a shower of red, the only true God. She took out the worthless coin that was given to her by another man that worshiped Death. She held it in her fingers tight and said words that had been the truest she had ever heard.

"Valar Morghulis—All Men Must Die."

She could run all she liked but their red faces followed her everywhere. Run. Run. Run. She could never escape the Red of Death.

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Note:

So, what did you think of this dark little baby? I pretty proud of it myself, I've never done a horror fic before, but this fits the bill, doesn't it? If you found it a little confusing, I'll clear a few things up for you.

The woods she was running through was the wolfswood. The bone-white trees were weirwoods. The red was blood. She was there when her father died, though she did not see, and dreamed of it with him. She had heard that Bran and Rickon were killed when Winterfell was burned to the ground, so she dreamed of them. She did not see her mother or Robb die, but was outside when it happened, and she saw Grey Wind's head on her brothers body. Everything in a sea of Red.

Please tell me what you think. Bad or good, I want to know. Was it creepy? Did you find it made no sense at all? Anything, just let me know.

Thanks for Reading!