Chapter 11- Blood

"And you let her go?" Sansa screeched at Robb, who held his head in his hands.

He was such an idiot.

The world was falling to pieces, cities were being razed to the ground across the Narrow Sea, and he had just let his baby sister walk into the flames.

"The Dothraki navy and ground forces have penetrated the city's defences and are now charging through the outer reaches of Braavos with very little resistance. The Valyrian Government has reportedly lost communication with the city's governor and the evacuation of key personnel is believed to be struggling. On the scene is our Braavosi correspondent Missandei."

The television was displaying the shocking live footage of the bombardment at Braavos. Shells rained down on the city and the Dothraki landing was getting ever closer to the shore, creeping up on the city like sharks.

"The situation is worsening as the troops continue to spread throughout the city…" the news reporter at the scene, who was standing outside the Northern News Network branch in Braavos, wearing a bullet-proof vest emblazoned with the word 'PRESS'.

She should've known that wouldn't save her.

"We've gotta get out of here, they're coming!" One of the security guards was bustling about in the background of the shot, trying to lead people away.

"There seems to be a commotion heading our way, we're going to..."

"LADY GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE WE'RE GOING TO-"

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Static filled the screen, and Robb sunk lower into his seat.

"What is wrong with you, Robb?" Sansa's knees were wobbling uncontrollably, her eyes watery and her lip quivering.

Bran sat beside them, staring into the television screen which now displayed an error message. His eyes were wide and his jaw was slightly agape, which, for Bran, was quite an intense display of emotions.

"I- I didn't- I couldn't-" Robb tried to speak, but the words caught and died in his throat. There was nothing he could say. He should've stopped her. He should've done something about her recklessness, which he now shared.

"They sunk her ship." Bran said stoically, his facial expression betraying the emotion which lay underneath.

Sansa sunk to her knees and began to sob, her breaths so irregular and shaky that Robb feared she was having a panic attack. Moving towards her, he tried to wrap his arms around her, but she forcefully shoved him away.

"Get away from me!" she shouted through her sobs, crying harder as more emotion leaked from her mouth. She rocked back and forth in an attempt to comfort herself, but that did very little for her present state. "Why? Why? WHY? They're gone! THEY'RE BOTH GONE!"

Robb's resolve completely cracked as the first tear rolled down his cheek.

Bran continued to stare off into space. He wasn't crying, even though, underneath the walls he had built so many years ago, he wanted to. But he couldn't. He had to believe they were still alive. Be the positive force in the family.

The Gods knew no one else would be.

"We don't know anything for sure." Bran projected, trying his best to remain calm and confident.

"Bran, are you fucking blind?" Sansa had now completely lost control of her emotions, sadness, anger, grief, despair, emptiness and uncertainty all locked in a ferocious battle within her.

"We don't know anything for sure." Bran repeated, sounding more uncertain than he had the time before.

Sansa didn't reply, instead she balled herself up tighter and began to rock back and forth again.

Robb sat in disbelief, silent tears streaking down his face.

He thought he'd lost one sibling.

Now he'd lost two.

Or so he thought.

"I will not do this. You saw what happened to Qohor."

"Lord Commander, this is a serious situation, and only the Wildfire Detonator can diffuse it!"

"In what possible way could a weapon of mass destruction assist in this matter?"

"80% of the Dothraki navy is stationed within the same two square-mile radius. Use the wildfire detonator over the fleet and we've destroyed the Dothraki navy!"

"You are asking me to launch a strike against a civilian population! I will not have another city on my conscious!"

"Did you not hear me? Their navy will be destroyed!"

"Braavos will be destroyed!"

"Braavos has fallen!"

"I will not sanction this attack, General. Do you understand? I. Will. Not."

"With respect, Lord Commander, I am overruling your decision."

"I am your Lord Commander! My decision cannot be overruled!"

"Then I am very sorry for this, sir."

"Sorry for wha-"

BANG!

Jon had to blink several times to confirm what he was seeing before him. Surely it was the Gods calling out to him before they took him to his final destination, although he wasn't sure whether he belonged in the heavens or the hells.

But it was definitely her.

He took her in properly. She had grown very little in two years, that late puberty growth spurt never really kicking in for her. She still had the same hair, which he loved to muss and run his hands through. She had bruises on her arm and neck, which internally made him seethe. Who did that to her? Whoever they were, they would pay. Her clothes were torn and scratched, her tights particularly, which showed her creamy white skin through the jet black of the tights.

But such trivial things didn't matter.

Here she was.

"Arya?" he croaked.

Immediately, Arya made towards him, and he stood to meet her in a rib crushing hug.

But he fell straight back down to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Gods, Jon!" Arya dropped to her knees and pulled him up into a sitting position, albeit with great difficulty. She wasn't as strong as she used to be.

"Arya…" Jon whispered, bringing his hand to touch her cheek. At first he touched it tentatively, fearing that she would disappear before his very eyes when he made contact. But she didn't fade away. She was there. Really there. He cupped her cheek tenderly, wiping away some of the dirt and then a tear which rolled down to meet his thumb.

Arya was alive with emotion, and her heart was working overtime to keep up. He was here, he was alive.

Her Jon.

But he was also hurt.

She brought one of her hands to his on her cheek, and another to smooth his hair, which was wild and sticky with blood and sweat. She smiled. It felt so strange to touch him, but yet so familiar. They were back together, at long last.

She could squeal with excitement, but it wasn't the time or place.

Jon shifted, only to grunt in pain again. Arya looked down to where he had clutched his hand, only to gasp in shock.

There was blood gushing from his leg.

Looking back over at where Jon had been, there were the remains of a steel fence littering the floor all around it. He must've been impaled by something sharp when he was thrown there by the Dothraki soldier.

"Jon! Stay still for me, okay?" she massaged his hair, and he kept caressing her cheek.

"Arya… you shouldn't be here…" Jon's voice was exhausted, and his body language emitted a man who was too tired to carry on. Only his eyes said otherwise. They oozed love, and a warmth spread through Arya like nothing she had ever experienced before while she looked into them.

"You'd be dead if I wasn't." she answered playfully, but her spine shuddered at the reality of it. He would be. Jon offered an amused huff, but winced again, drawing Arya's attention back to his leg. She could try and stem the bleeding with her belt, but he would need medical attention to patch him up sooner rather than later.

"Okay, Jon," she began, moving her hand from his and removing her belt, keeping her other hand in his hair. "Just try and relax okay?" she was shuddering. She had finally found him again, and she wasn't going to surrender tamely to defeat now.

Jon offered a nod, and gripped her hand tight, which she returned warmly.

"Okay…" she placed her belt around his leg.

'Just be quick...' She thought to herself.

She tightened her belt around the wound, pulling it as hard as she could. She had seen enough medical shows on TV to know that it would be temporarily effective.

Jon unleashed some pained grunts, his breathing fast and laboured, and he squeezed Arya's hand tighter in response to the impromptu surgery. He still thought his eyes were deceiving him, there was no possible way Arya was here.

He didn't know whether to be overjoyed or furious.

He chose neither, instead choosing to bring both his hands to her face, cupping it gently, and stroking her face as he did before.

"I missed you…" he said, the lump in his throat rendering his voice almost inaudible. "I missed you so much…"

Tears began to fall down Arya's cheeks, and were collected in Jon's fingers. She smiled a sad smile before shifting closer to him.

"I missed you too, Jon…" she began, allowing herself to feel Jon's touch for the first time in two years. It was delicate, as it always had been, but it was also firm and protective, as if he never wanted to let go. If he loved her half as much as she loved him, she understood all to well. "This wasn't how I hoped to meet you again."

"Me neither…" Jon replied, his eyes drawn to the rest of her, the bruises on her neck and her ripped clothing from her attacker, the bruises on her wrist from her mother. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, moving one of his hands to lightly touch her neck. "Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter." Arya moved closer again, her face now less than a foot from his. He raised his eyebrows at her in response. "Some arsehole."

"Is this arsehole still with us?"

She snorted.

"Now that's funny."

Jon smiled in return, his eyes locking onto the weapon placed on the ground beside them.

"Is that my gun?"

"Yes, they sent it, along with some of your stuff from Volantis."

Jon smiled wider.

"I was looking for that."

Their eyes locked again, the intensity of each other's gaze bringing suppressed emotions back to the surface, and the topic that neither had yet mentioned was pushed to the forefront of conversation.

"Jon…" Arya began, her eyes flickering as the world grew smaller around them, the sound of bullets and shells as good as a million miles away.

She never finished her sentence however, as Jon pulled her to him and their lips met in an explosion of sensations. It was nothing like their first kiss on the sofa two years ago, as that kiss was full of desperation and fear, with a heavy amount of uncertainty mixed in. It was, to put it simply, a goodbye kiss. This was different. This was a promise. No words were exchanged, but both parties knew that would never be necessary between them. It was a sacred vow between two people who loved each other more than the very earth they walked upon, a pledge of protection, and warmth and unconditional love.

It was more powerful than all the weapons in the world.

Their lips parted for lack of oxygen, but their foreheads rested against each other. They grinned simultaneously, eyes locked and breathing synchronised.

"I love you, Arya… I love you so much."

Arya laughed, and Jon thought his cheeks would tear at the size of his smile.

"Took you long enough." She whispered cheekily, before kissing him again, more briefly this time. "I love you too, Jon… now and always."

BOOM!

The shell impacted a house only twenty feet away and the two distracted lovebirds were flung from their prior position. Upon landing, which was a relatively painful experience, Arya heard the gunshots approaching from the other end of the street. She crawled over to Jon, who landed a few feet away from her, and hoisted him up.

"Can you walk?" she asked, ensuring the belt was still tight around his leg. He nodded in response. She helped Jon get to his feet, which was not without more pained grunting, she wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and the two made towards the embassy.

Jon was limping as fast as he could, and Arya, who was already small enough as it was, was having a hard time supporting him. Her lack of nutrition and self-respect since she heard of Jon's 'passing' had pushed her to be physically weak. She hardly left her room in the last three weeks, let alone go for a walk, or do any form of exercise.

She made a mental note to make sure there was a gym close to wherever her and Jon ended up.

Because they were running away together.

He promised.

He wouldn't break another promise, would he?

"Sorry General, I don't follow?"

"It's actually very simple, much like yourself if you don't mind me saying."

"F-forgive me General, I- I was…"

"Listen very carefully. Lord Commander Dayne is no longer in command, and his previous orders have been rescinded. I am taking charge of military operations until his successor is chosen by the proper means."

"And what are your commands, sir?"

"I want a plane carrying a Wildfire Detonator to scramble immediately. Their orders are to deploy the weapon over the Dothraki naval fleet currently bombarding Braavos then come back to base."

"G-General… with respect, that would put the entire city of Braavos within a potential zone of destruction… hundreds of thousands could burn if we-"

"MY ORDERS ARE FINAL! Eighty percent of the fleet in one position is too good of an opportunity to pass up! What are the lives of one city against total military victory on the fourteen seas? You will give the order to your troops immediately or you will be arrested and court marshalled on a charge of insubordination!"

"I- I…"

"Give the order. Now."

"Y-yes G-General… right away."

"When we get out of here… you are so buying the chicken wings for the next year." Arya stated jokingly as she and Jon shifted closer to the embassy, the flag still flying tall and proud amongst the destruction which encircled it.

Jon scoffed and pulled her a little closer.

"You bloody wish."

He was going as fast as he could, but the fresh wound in his leg was highly debilitating to movement. Arya was helping somewhat, but Jon was aware that she couldn't hold him in position for very long in the best of times, but now she looked skinnier than she was the day she came into this world. She was still the apple of his eye, a true northern beauty without any question, but it hadn't gone unnoticed that she had evidently been neglecting herself in recent times. He felt partially guilty for that. If he'd have run away with her like she wanted him to two years ago, none of this would have happened. She'd always been so strong and smart, so to see her in somewhat of a sorry state worried him to his core. Perhaps he could help her get back on track. He'd learnt many military exercises designed to build up strength.

BOOM!

The shell landed about thirty feet behind them, and threw them both onto the ground. Jon grunted as his chin whacked the cobbled ground with relative force, and Arya grazed both her elbows trying to catch her fall. She quickly disregarded the pain on her skinned arms and scrambled back to her feet, picking Jon up as best as she could.

"Jon, just a few more steps, okay?" Arya's mothering made Jon snort with amusement. She always hated being mothered by Sansa, Robb, himself, or even her mother, but she was always the first to mother others. Perhaps it was hypocrisy, perhaps it was her caring nature. Perhaps both.

"Okay." Was the response offered by Jon. As he kept moving, the pain in his leg seemed to grow. Arya had made a good call with the belt, but it was by no means a long-term solution. He needed stitches and painkillers sooner rather than later.

Jon and Arya made it into the small square which held the Northern embassy. Panicked people and a few of the warriors from the House of Black and White were present, but, apart from that, the way to the embassy was clear. The pair continued to limp towards the front entrance.

"You know… I wish we could've been here… under better circumstances…" Jon told Arya between sharp intakes of breath as he hobbled closer to the embassy. "I know that you've… always loved this city…"

"I know." Arya stated sadly, holding Jon a little tighter to convey her sadness. "But Braavos gave me you back. That's all I'll ever need."

Jon couldn't help but smile. Arya was never this sentimental, even in front of him. He reasoned it was an emotional moment in seeing each other again, and she would, in time, go back to pretending she wasn't sentimental or romantic when she actually is. He smiled wider at that thought. She was perfectly stubborn.

"LOOK OUT!" someone shouted, but the warning did nothing to guard against what came.

BANG BANG BANG!

The sound of gunfire erupted in the square, with a number of Dothraki soldiers running towards the civilians and opening fire. Several collapsed to the ground, likely dead or dying, and the mass panic became more intense.

"Shit!" Arya and Jon said at the same time, moving even faster towards the embassy. To be frank, they weren't entirely sure what that would accomplish, as the Dothraki were right behind them, and could move a lot faster without a stab wound to the leg.

BANG BANG BANG!

Bullets were now being fired in the direction of Jon and Arya, flying all around them like rocket-propelled wasps.

Arya fired off a shot with Jon's gun, striking a Dothraki solider in the jaw, killing him almost instantly.

But that didn't save them from what was about to happen.

BANG!

"AH!" Jon shouted as he fell to the ground again.

The Dothraki solider stood behind the pair didn't last long, as Arya shot him in the chest less than two seconds later.

But he'd already fired his shot.

Arya fell to her knees to try and pull Jon back up, but he was grasping at something just behind his shoulder. Looking to where he seemed intent on grabbing, Arya's jaw fell open and tears rushed to her eyes.

Blood was now rushing from Jon's shoulder blade.

"Is it ready?"

"As you requested General."

"Very good."

"Here is your communicator. Use this to communicate with the plane and when you're ready to give the order just say the word."

"Excellent."

"I will just go and clear this mission with the board and then we should be good to go."

"Oh no need, Captain. Word of this mission cannot be given to anyone."

"But… I have to get this mission sanctioned, General."

"I am sanctioning this mission, on my authority."

"But… there are procedures that must be followed, and His Grace will want to know that we are carrying out this kind of operation…"

"I WILL NOT BE TOLD WHAT IS AND WHAT ISN'T TO BE DONE ON AN OPERATION I HAVE SANCTIONED, CAPTAIN! YOU WILL STAND DOWN!"

"B-but… I have to, General… it's basic practice…"

"Oh Gods… there will be so much blood to clean up today…"

"G-General?"

BANG!

"Thank you Captain, for your service."

BZZZZ

"This is General Hightower of the Dornish Command, do you copy?"

"I copy you General."

"Excellent, are you ready to begin?"

"Absolutely General, just awaiting your orders."

"What is the ETA on detonation?"

"From take-off we can reach Braavos in around ten minutes, General."

"Good. You have my order to launch."

"At once, General."

"JON!" Arya frantically threw her bag from her shoulder and fished around in it for anything that could stop the bleeding. There was a mangled scarf buried deep within the bag, which she grabbed with haste and pressed to Jon's shoulder blade.

Jon's eyes were drooping slightly, and he felt the world get darker around him. It was only when Arya returned to his view that the world brightened for him. He gave her a sad smile.

She was trembling, the hand pressed firmly on the bullet wound the only part of her which wasn't shaking uncontrollably. Tears welled in her eyes and her breathing was erratic.

"Jon, just keep your eyes on me okay?" She ran her other hand through his hair. "The embassy is right there, okay? We can make it! Just a little further!"

BOOM!

Just as Arya pointed to the embassy, the outer walls caved outward as it was struck from the rear. The glass windows shattered and flew out into the square, cutting and maiming several people, many of whom were then crushed by the large chunks of marble and granite which showered them moments later. The flagpole fell not fifteen feet from Jon and Arya, the flag burning right beside them.

Arya couldn't move. Her arm stayed outstretched, still pointing at the now destroyed building with her index finger. Her jaw was shuddering, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Only the sound of more Dothraki troops approaching made her turn slowly back to Jon, still breathing heavy on the ground.

He took her hand in his.

"Arya…" his voice was lighter than usual, his eyes looking as if they were struggling to stay open. "I think you should go…"

"W-what?"

"Arya… get out of here… don't die with me…"

Arya's expression hardened, but her eyes began to expel tears at a rapid rate.

"No. I'm not leaving without you Jon. Don't even say that." She had gone rigid and her face was scrunched, both angry and terrified at the same time.

"You have to… I don't want you to die here too…"

"You're not dying, Jon, don't say that, don't think that, okay?" Her voice became more and more desperate as she spoke, tears now running down her face uncontrollably.

Delicately, Jon brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. Her heart cracked and her steel resolve began to crumble.

"J-Jon… come on! P-p-please!" she begged.

BOOM!

A building on the opposite side of the square collapsed under the impact of another shell.

"I love you, Arya…"

"No, don't say that, don't say goodbye!" she demanded. "You're not leaving me again, okay? Y-you promised me! We have too much to do together… I c-can't lose you now!"

"I'm glad… I got to see you again…" Jon's eyes were starting to flicker open and closed. The world for him was becoming incredibly fuzzy, and he could only focus on Arya. He felt life slipping further and further from his grasp.

"J-J-Jon…" Arya's resolve had all but collapsed as she held onto him as tightly as she could. Realisation was dawning on her, but she kicked it away. She wouldn't give up now. She had only just found him again.

"I love you." He said, a smile gracing his lips, a special smile he saved only for her. His eyes closed and the world went dark.

"What is your status, Sandsnake?"

"At equal latitude with Braavos, General. The fleet will be within striking distance in an ETA of three minutes, General."

"Continue. Let me know when you are within striking distance."

"Copy that. Just to check, General, the Board has cleared this operation, correct?"

"Absolutely. I would never seek to undermine their authority."

"Just making sure, General. We'll keep you posted."

"Jon?" Arya shook him and he made no response. His breathing was getting slower. "JON!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. He seemed to stir somewhat, his eyes barely flickering open. "Please Jon, please…"

Her scream seemed to push Jon to a state of semi-consciousness. It wasn't perfect, but better than being dead.

BANG BANG BANG!

More Dothraki troops flooded the square, shooting and killing any within the line of fire.

Jon wanted her to go.

But she wasn't leaving without him.

Her Jon.

But what could she do?

She had two bullets left, and the Dothraki were coming from all directions. She grasped the gun with her left hand, and pulled Jon onto her lap with her right, cradling him with the same arm. She was weeping, and her vision was blurry from the tears which invaded her eyes, not to mention the emotional whirlwind she found herself in at that moment. Her senses were dialled up to eleven and she could feel her heart beating in her brain.

Jon murmured something that she couldn't quite make out, but his head kept falling from side to side, as if he had no control over his own body. Then he murmured louder, and she partially heard him.

"…you're nine…"

She was confused. She pulled him closer to her and waited for him to speak again.

"…nine…nine…o'clock…"

Looking at the clock which had just fallen from the embassy, it was about three o'clock. She shook him gently, trying to get a more coherent Jon to answer her.

"Jon?"

"Nine o'clock…" his head jolted to the left as he spoke.

He meant her nine o'clock.

She looked over just in time to see the Dothraki soldier sprinting at her, reloading his gun as he ran. She wasted no time in pointing the gun at him and planting a bullet in the centre of his face.

Only one left.

She leaned in and kissed Jon on the head.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Then she looked around in desperation. From her current position, she had a decent oversight of the city, or what remained of it. Piles of burning rubble could be seen for miles, and the sound of screaming and gunfire echoed through the city streets like a freakish musical instrument. The smoke rising from all around them and drifting up into the sky gave the impression that it was much later in the day than it actually was. The sky was dark with the thick grey smoke and it cast a shadow over the city not unlike a cloudy night, only the fire illuminating the ground.

Another solider charged at Jon and Arya from the front this time, raising his weapon to shoot them both. Arya was swift, but it was a close call. The man fell to the ground whimpering in pain, and it took him a while to actually die.

She had no bullets left.

She shook Jon again to try and keep him with her, but he gave no indication he was still awake.

No way out.

No way back.

No way home.

No way anywhere.

Arya pulled Jon's head into her chest and cradled him, stroking his jet black hair gently, planting a kiss on his forehead, as he had done to her so many times.

"I-I'm s-sorry…" she whispered to him, rocking back and forth.

She failed.

She tried to drown out noise of the shells raining down from above, the gunfire on the streets and the sounds of terror emanating from all around, but it was to no avail. She closed her eyes and just prayed to feel him.

She was torn from her thoughts when she was grabbed and thrown into the air by someone who had emerged behind her, only to hear to people laugh.

She immediately began to protest, but the two pairs of hands now on her were strong and she couldn't wriggle free despite her best efforts. She was shoved against a wall, and she lay eyes on two Dothraki soldiers.

"Mooindi anna's an klakka vikeesi." ("Shame she's an ugly bitch.") one of them said.

"Anha hash vo tarr. Anha'm sekke elput." ("I don't care. I'm so fucking horny.") said the other.

She had no idea what they were saying, but by the way they were undoing their uniforms she could make an educated guess. She tried to run by squeezing through them but she was thrown back against the wall, with far more force, and she was met with a firm kick between her legs and a punch straight to the gut, much harder than the one the attacker had given her earlier.

"Anha athfiezar anna kash mori put yath kallengi." ("I love it when they put up a fight.")

"An klakka ato ven jinak jif be monfut." ("An ugly one like this should be grateful.")

"Kash kisha uro deekaj mae loy rispiki." ("Then let's teach her some manners.")

More punches came to Arya's face and stomach. She tried to fight, kicking and punching in kind as best as she could, but this was clearly not these soldier's first rodeo. They'd done this before. They had her pinned against the wall.

"Anna's diwe ha us ray!" ("She's wet for us already!")

"Chek let's vo goiki ha the miwit mezhah to ath yath!" ("Well let's not wait for the little whore to dry up!")

The soldier began to tear at her clothes, her tights ripping easily from the assault earlier.

She did the only thing she could.

"HELP!" she screamed. "SOMEONE PLEASE!"

"General, we are now within striking distance of the Dothraki fleet."

"Deploy the detonator then quick turn back to base."

"Detonator deployed. Detonation ETA 90 seconds, General."

"Good. Now, I need you to do something for me."

"What is it, General?"

"I'm sending a command to your aircraft, press the blue button on the front panel and the command will activate."

"What is the command, General? I can do everything from here you need me to do..."

"Don't question orders! Just press it!"

"As you wish, General."

THIS AIRCRAFT WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN TEN SECONDS

"What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, but I can't have any reports of this leaving the room I'm in."

"NO! WHY-?"

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"SOMEONE PLEASE!"

Jon's eyes fluttered.

"PLEASE HELP ME!"

They fluttered again.

"JON! ANYONE! PLEASE!"

They opened.

Looking around, the world was fuzzy and hazy, as if it were playing in slow motion. Nothing was clear in his head, least of all the pain which seemed to spill from every part of his body. He felt the pain in his leg, which was constrained by the belt placed around it, and then the blistering pain in his back, where blood was still freely oozing.

"PLEASE!"

The world snapped back into focus. He heard her calling. With great difficulty, Jon hoisted himself onto his elbows, looking around for her.

That's when he saw them.

Two soldiers were beating and ripping Arya's clothes.

His Arya.

He saw red.

The pain in his body washed away as easily as the tide on a relaxing beach, only to be replaced with a tsunami of adrenaline and fury.

"NO! PLEASE!"

Jon knew what to do.

With great difficulty, he shifted onto his knees. It felt like the weight of an elephant was trying to crush him back down onto the ground, but he would not fall.

He would do anything for Arya.

Anything.

There was his revolver on the ground, but he could see it was empty. Looking in the other direction, he saw a dead Dothraki solider with a handgun stretched towards where he and Arya had been. Reaching forward, groaning in pain as he stretched his wounded shoulder, he fished the gun from the cold, dead fingers of the fallen man.

It was loaded.

"PLEASE! JON! ANYONE! HELP!"

Her calling his name made memories resurface of all the times she was a little girl and she called his name in fear. She never called her mother, or her father, or Robb, or Sansa, or anyone else. She only wanted him. And every time, he had come to her rescue.

He would not fail her now.

Gun in hand, using the last vestiges of power life could squeeze into his failing body, Jon took the excruciating task of rising to his feet. It took several seconds, and his knees felt like they could buckle at any moment, but he stood firm.

He had to save her.

Slowly but determinedly, he limped towards them. He resembled someone blind-drunk trying to walk home after a long night of drinking, but Jon Snow was only drunk on anger.

How dare they try to hurt his Arya.

'Mine.' His brain kept saying, over and over again. 'Mine. Kill. Kill.'

"NO!"

BANG! BANG!

Arya gasped as her face was splattered with blood, and the two soldiers fell to the ground dead, her eyes following them. She saw the bullet wounds to the back of their heads, their brains leaking out of the hole left behind by the shot.

Looking up at her saviour, her eyes widened.

Jon couldn't stand for long, and he fell back to his knees fairly quickly.

She caught him before he fell completely, lowering herself to her knees as well.

"Jon… I thought… I thought you were…"

"Shhhh…" he brought his finger to her lips, and she shuddered under his touch. "It's you I'm worried about…"

"I'm okay…" her tone did nothing to convince him, but he knew that would be her response. He pulled her into him and felt her rattling body. He lay eyes on one of the soldiers he dispatched.

'Good riddance.' He thought. The Dothraki were well known for raping wherever they went, and he was just glad he had saved Arya from that same fate many women who survived attacks on Volantis had suffered.

Pulling out of the hug, Arya pressed her forehead against his.

"Don't go, Jon."

Jon pressed his lips to hers, capturing her in a more tender kiss, which she responded to eagerly.

"Never." He said after they separated.

She smiled at him, just as a bright flash of green erupted like nothing she'd ever experienced in the distance behind him.

"We've completely lost contact with all of our connections in Braavos, and it's hard to tell exactly who in the city is still alive."

Robb couldn't peel his eyes away from the TV. Sansa still sat rocking back and forth on the floor, Rickon having joined her there when he heard the shouting earlier. Bran still sat rigid watching the screen like a hawk.

"We're thankful to be obtaining this aerial footage from Channel Three in the Six Kingdoms, who are still in the skies over Braavos bringing the latest news from the city to the Stormlands. Unfortunately we don't know the situation on the ground in Braavos at the moment, but our opinion at present is that the coalition has considered the city lost, and will likely abandon and pull out the strategic forces soon."

Robb sunk lower in his seat. He couldn't believe himself. His little sister was sunk on the Shivering Sea and likely froze to death, and his 'brother' was probably dead somewhere on the street in Braavos.

Rickon clung to Sansa like a limpet, bawling his eyes out while Sansa did the same. Rickon was too young to be experiencing these losses. First his father, now two of his siblings.

Robb felt personally responsible.

"Bran…" Robb spoke, and Bran turned his head to look at his older brother. "What have I done?"

Bran exhaled loudly. What could he say? Robb had no way of knowing what would happen to Braavos, but it was a stupidly foolish decision to let Arya go.

"It wasn't your fault…" Bran answered, his tone dry and face unmoving. "But… did it not occur to you that it was a bad idea?"

"I tried to stop her!" Robb protested.

"THEN YOU SHOULD'VE TRIED HARDER!" Sansa shouted, looking at Robb for the first time since the news was broken. She brought her hand to her mouth and began to shake again. "T-the las-last c-conservation we h-had… I s-should've… I s-should've a-apologised f-f-for m-more… we were j-just starting t-to get along, and…"

"Oh Gods…"

Bran's interruption directed everyone's attention back to the television screen.

For a moment, all they could see was green. Then, as the camera adjusted, Robb's eyes widened and his jaw fell to the floor.

Wildfire.

The camera was in the perfect position to show how it incinerated the fleet within seconds. Then the soldiers who were heading for the coast burnt quickly.

Then, the outer stretches of the city itself caught aflame. Green fire began it's rampage through the outer city, and it was only a matter of time before Braavos resembled Qohor.

The room was silenced. No one could quite believe what they were seeing.

Bran still believed Jon and Arya were alive. He had to believe that, or he would be destroyed all over again. But seeing this, the sheer size of the battle they would face against an enemy which could not be tamed, he almost wished they were dead.

It was better to die a quick noble death than in unendurable agony.

He knew that all too well.

But one thing was for certain, and it struck everyone at the same time.

The war was over.

The war was lost.

TO BE CONTINUED