In which things go awry.
*Year 304 AC (After Conquest) – Present Day*
The everyday familiar banks of the Blackwater Rush lay mysterious, hiding and looming out in the whitened haze. The freezing fog wrapped around Arya like a blanket and the further they went, the thicker the fog gets. Even the flame from the torch is now partially obscured in front.
"We'll follow the sound of the water." She calls out over her shoulder.
The men chorus an understanding and did as was told. Not breaking their formation of four with their own torches at each rim as they follow her lead.
The young Stark's grip around her pommel tightens in an uncomfortable hold, and so do her clutches around the torch. Grey eyes flicker around in tense expecting for Euron Greyjoy himself to come out from the white smoke like in her many dreams. She recalls again the crazed raven that had started this entire assignment and how she had come into this conclusion. Was she being too paranoid?
There is no way that the Crow's Eye already reached Kings Landing. It has only been more or less a week since he was last seen in Braavos. He couldn't have sailed so fast, could he? Perhaps he had sent his allies or mercenaries who are closer to Westeros to start the attack first. Did he perhaps know that the city is undermanned and wishes to weaken it before he comes and sweeps everything for himself? Is that how he had managed to take over Kings Landing another lifetime ago?
"Who goes there?" A disembodied voice suddenly spoke across her.
She freezes and so does the thudding of steps behind. They had been following the banks for a while now and usually at the end of it, soldiers would be posted to guard the small boats for transportation to the bigger vessel. "Arya Stark." She replied late.
"Arya?" A pause, "From The Swan?"
She frowns at the question but soon recognizes the man's voice. "Derwin."
Sure enough, the Ironborn appears behind the darkness with a torch. "Yer remember ma name." he greeted with a wide smile.
Some of her tension dissipates as she returns the gesture. "Derwin, has anything happened while you're on duty? Did any of the man see anything strange out in the water?" She probed without missing a beat.
He glances to the dozen men behind her curiously. "Nothin' strange beside yer presence 'ere."
"And out in the water?"
"Well, can't really see much wit' all this…" he stretches his arm wide. "I can 'ardly see yer lovely face." He grins.
Though it was amusing to see Derwin being himself, Arya still needs to make sure. "I need your help, Derwin."
"Sure. Ya can ask me anythin'."
"I need you to gather your men and do your rounds."
He blinks as if waiting for the punch line. When he saw how serious she was, he falters. "In this condition?"
The young Stark steps closer, determined. "I'm sure you've been doing the rounds many times before this, so you and your men must have memorized the route by now. It will be a simple inspection to make sure no one has breached our water and the fleet. My men and I will join to offer our assistance."
Seeing the unwavering set of gaze from the young woman, he has no choice but to relent. He leads her to his post not far, where another soldier is standing guard. Derwin explains the request and without any objections, his comrade walks away to another post to relay the message. Arya orders one of her men to stay with her and the remaining to follow the Ironborn.
Soon, ten small boats take off from their respective posts. Arya is in one, with Derwin at her front and the soldier behind her. The Ironman controls the oars towards a destination. The fog did nothing to ease their travel and she wonders if this is indeed a bad idea. Though, Derwin seems to continue to control the paddles fluently as if he's not blinded by the darkness and the thick haze.
"So, Arya… Yer ever go back to The Swan after last time?" Derwin asked, looking over his shoulder with a smitten look.
She resists the urge to shake her head and choose to inspect their nearby surrounding instead. "No. I haven't got the chance." She answered.
"I can bring ya."
"I know the way there."
"Sure ya do. But, I can keep ya company." He wiggles his brow in obvious intention.
She is about to retort and bury his hopes but the words die when she caught a glimpse of a moving flame above the water instead. She leans sideways trying to see better, making the boat shakes lightly. "Did you see that?"
The two men tilt their head to the direction but the light has long gone now, fading inside the fog. "There's nothin' there," Derwin stated the obvious and then he points the opposite direction. "The ships' docked this way."
"Wait, look." The other guard from the castle suddenly said as his gaze still lingers. And sure enough, the same flame that Arya saw just now appears before them again before disappearing among the clouds of fog, but this time everyone saw it.
"Lose the torch," Arya whispered. The soldier dunks the tip inside the water and with a hiss, their fire dies, further enveloping them in the thick of the haze and night.
Derwin changes course and directs the boat to where the small of light once was. Arya pulls out Needle slowly, scanning the area and taking every sound around them into account. The soldier behind her readied with his sword as well.
A moment after, the orange of light appears again, closer this time and didn't fade away. The Ironborn pulls the oars faster in return, not wanting to lose it. But then their boat knocks violently, jerking the three to the side at the sudden force inflicted. The vessel nearly topples over into the water but Derwin acts quickly as he manoeuvred his weight to the opposite side which Arya and the other guard soon follow.
They didn't get to recover when multiple sounds of steels being drawn out enter their ears next. Another slightly larger boat filled with men in black attires, swords at the ready, looks upon them in dark gazes. One of them jumps over and pierces his way at the unprepared soldier beside Arya, successfully puncturing the man's lung. Her hand reacts almost instinctively as Needle slashes the stranger's neck next. He limps over the boat and goes into the water with a splash the same way his victim did.
At the tainted red of her sword, her heart beats loudly inside her chest, eyes wide, trying to understand what is going on. It takes little to no time at all for the other unfamiliar men to jump overboard as well since their boats are now connected. She barely managed to duck out of the moving sword that wanted her head before her feet caught something and stumble down. The man takes the given chance to finish her off but a wooden surface smacks his head viciously sending him overboard.
Arya gets up on her feet to thank her saviour at the same time another man tears his sword at Derwin. The Ironborn was prepared as he threw the broken oar at his opponent and then meets the steel with his own.
Before the remaining men can jump over and cornered them, she flung herself into their vessel instead and her blade swiftly finds another flesh. The man grunts in pain at his bleeding hand. His sword clatters down and Arya runs to him, closing the smallest distance as Needle pierces through his chest next. With a growl she pushes him backwards, her steel slides further until his chest meets the pommel of her sword as she uses his body as protection from another man standing behind him. With nowhere to run and unable to counter, the pointed end of her sword finds the second man's throat.
The boat then rattles violently making them lose balance and Arya escaped from being dragged by the two as she pulls Needle off them at the last moment. She ignores the splashing of sound and turns to catch hacking of steel coming her way. It was a mistake when she tries to parry the incoming attack. The thin blade and her unpreparedness couldn't hold on as the sword slashes her arm.
Blood soaks through the torn fabric and she swallows the sharp pain before she ducks and steps backwards at the incessant violence still coming her way. She was too busy avoiding and attacking the man in the same fervour to notice that they are slowly being surrounded by other boats. Only when a sudden sound of a horn blows through did she noticed.
The sound continues to travel through the night into a never-ending distance sending shivers down her spine. That was definitely a signal but she had a hard time to decipher the meaning. With a clenched jaw, she slithers her way forward, hopping at the edge of the vessel, putting her weight into good use to render the man in front imbalance. He wobbles unceremoniously at the sudden change, opening up a path for Needle to puncture through his thigh. As he grunts in agony, Arya hops down again and finally finishes him off.
The young Stark didn't get the chance to rest when a familiar swish sound of splitting air comes next. She turns in alarm to find where it ends but her breath stops short as Derwin's surprised face comes into view instead. He glances down to his chest, an arrow embedded in it before he looks up to her again. His eyes slowly losing focus.
Arya reaches out to him but she was too far and he is already falling over. She can only watch helplessly as Derwin finally disappears into the dark. Her throat clogged up leaving her breathless as she remains unmoving hoping for the Ironborn to climb over the vessel again. But, he didn't and she is alone.
When another sound of splitting air comes again, she blinks her tears away and moves at the last second to avoid the intended arrow for her. Instead of her heart, the sharp tip managed to tear the side of her shoulder instead. She goes down at the force with a loud thud, hissing in pain at her torn flesh. When the boat rattles of the incoming men, Arya crawls over the edge, takes a deep breath and slides over.
As soon as the water hits her, she wanted to scream as pins of needles pierce her entire body. She lets herself sink further though, wanting the cold to overwhelm and envelop her in the comfort of numbness. But soon, she needed air and with a new resolve to survive, she starts to swim away from the gathered enemies up above.
In no way, she knows where she's going. The blind depth of the water provides no bearing but her arms continue to move in great strokes and her legs kicking out behind anyway. Only when her lungs burn did she swims upward and emerges a few moments later.
Arya breathes in painfully as the air forces their way inside, trying to fill the empty lungs with the much-needed resource. The night air did nothing to add in warming her body. She is left shivering as she awkwardly tries to stay afloat, Needle still very much in her grip. Her head turns and twists around, alert of the incoming men that might have followed her to finish the job. But, only darkness greets her presence.
Somewhere to her right, she hears a faint screaming of men and something snapping and breaking as if they are burning. Her arms move into their own accord as she follows the sound. And then a loud thump echoes, adding into the silent night. It sends the earth shaking and the water vibrating at the force.
Arya swims faster. Her breath sputtered and her muscles grew heavy.
She realized late that she can now see the strokes of her arms splitting the water. And sure enough, around her, the fog is starting to lessen. But, the destruction sound remains. In fact, they have grown in numbers. The loud thump has now multiplied as if the land itself is splitting into two. And when her gaze looks up, she finally sees the source of where the burning comes from.
Her chest rises and falls in rapid succession. The biting cold and the burning of her lungs make her head spins and her vision in spots. So, she has a hard time to believe what she is witnessing. Up ahead, Yara's anchored fleet is in flames. The fire licks the wooden vessel and the Greyjoy's flag hungrily. Men jump out from the ships trying to escape the burning wreckage. Up the sky, balls of flame painted the dark nights as they left a trail of fire before they pour down towards Kings Landing. The earth shakes again as the flaming balls find purchase and destroy the walls and towers.
Arya watches in horror at the scene unfolding before her. Her eyes frantic and her chest hurts so ruthlessly that she can feel her heart is about to burst anytime soon. But as another set of flaming balls rain down the castle, she pushes her body towards the shore. A certain silver-haired woman fills her mind in fear.
She had swum quite far from the land while trying to escape the ambush and swimming back towards it left her drained and worn out. It's a miracle that her muscles didn't cramp and give out on her halfway or else she would have sunk at the bottom of the bay of Blackwater.
When the young Stark finally reaches the shore, her legs finally give out, unable to hold the wet clothes. She ends up crawling the remaining of her way out, discarding her leaden cloak that only serves as additional weight behind her back. Her eyes closed shut, forehead resting against the soil and wheezing tiredly as she stays unmoving on all four, trying to regain her strength.
Loud cries of the men and another crumbling down of walls are all it takes for her to jolt back into action. With a grunt, she moves to stand on her feet and starts walking. Her wet clothes snug her body like a second skin, providing no comfort whatsoever. But, she didn't let it bothered her, eyeing the burning castle up front where Daenerys is likely still inside. The grip around the pommel of her sword is so taut that she fears her fingers might have just been stitched permanently onto it.
Quickening her steps, Arya finds a sea of black rushing into the gaping holes left along the walls courtesy of the ball of fire. Thousands of men jump out from small boats that are left by the shore. And more is coming from as far as the bay stretches. And then she sees it, a banner with massive red-eye, black pupil beneath a black iron crown as two crows supported it.
The flagship of one Euron Greyjoy.
The world around her stops right there and then. With the fog now gone, moonlight glistening the enemies' fleet in clear view as is the flaming ball of fire still propelling from each vessel. The Spider had said the other day to expect at least 50 ships of the enemies' fleet. But, there are definitely more than that anchoring close by.
Her body starts to tremble, from her lips down to her hands making the sword in her grip to quiver as well. Arya blames her drizzly clothes and the cold wind but she knows it's not just that.
The Crow's Eye is here.
He's here and Arya needs to find Daenerys.
Tension builds inside her body in a ripple of waves. And she shakes her head, needing to get a hold of herself. Now is not the time or place for fears and she tries hard to stop trembling. When it doesn't work, she starts moving again. Quickening her steps into an almost-run and slithers her way inside the city. Her advance was silence by the war cry of the enemies as she joins them in their own formation as if she's just another one of their shadow.
The men are in black from head to toe. It was similar armour to the one that she had encountered earlier. She recognized those are the same one that Euron's mute wore another lifetime ago, further confirming her dread.
When they reach the Red Keep, the castle's walls had received the same treatment by the flaming balls of fire. So, it took little to no effort for the enemies to enter the castle through the giant multiple holes. Arrows rain down above the towers that are still standing but they were outnumbered. The soldiers defending the castle got tossed over the wall when the invaders finally get to them.
Having warming up, Arya starts her advance and stabs one's throat from the back just as she neared the inside of the castle. She moves on and slashes her way through the many men that are on her wayto Maegor's Holdfast.
There are no more fireballs raining down the castle. The buildings around become the statements that they had done enough damage. The Tower of Hand is no more and so does the Royal Sept as a sea of black had occupied the courtyard and everywhere else.
She sneaks past the commotion as men busy hacking one another. Her arm grows tired in defending herself against the incessant swords coming her way, begrudging her from arriving at where she needs to be. A blade would have succeeded cutting her in half if she had not sidestepped at the last minute. The longsword hits the ground instead and before the man can recover, she dashes forward and cuts the side of his neck. The young woman doesn't look back at the fallen mute and moves forward.
One person fuelling her advance.
She rounds the winding staircase, surprised that the steps are clear from enemies and rubbles. Her feet had never moved so fast in her life as she climbs down those stairs. When Arya finally reaches the lower courtyard, she stops abruptly. In front, lay piles of ruins where once stood the Queen's apartments.
"No…" Her voice sounded far. Her eyes throb and there are ringing screams vibrating in her ears too. She starts running again, passing the occupied soldiers that are killing one another around the area.
Pass the drawbridge, her knees scrape painfully atop the wreckage as she tries to lift the stones and digs her way inside. Sweat drenches her skin and Arya can hear her rapid breathing. She keeps picking the stones that she can lift, not caring that the sharp edges cut her skins open. Only when her hands have become a mess of red slit and she still goes nowhere, did her hands slow down until they stop permanently. She looks at the unmoving bricks with watery eyes.
It's too late.
She shouldn't have left Daenerys alone. She should be there by her side.
Arya had failed yet again. And now, the older woman is gone forever. There's no turning back and she had lost Daenerys the same as she had her father, mother and Robb.
Her stomach churns in strained cramps as she feels her heart being shredded from the inside. She ends up doubling over and the remaining energy that is left dissipates along with her hope.
Nothing else matters. So she lay in the remains of the building and the remains of Daenerys still trapped inside.
The sharp and uneven stones hurt her back and in front, she got a full view of the chaos transpired in the lower courtyard. The Queen's soldiers are still fighting bravely and Arya wonders if they know that Daenerys is dead and there's no reason left to fight. Perhaps she should tell them.
Her eyes flicker among them in a daze. But, her gaze lingers when she noticed a man with an eye patch at the middle of the ground. Time seems to move in slow motion as the man in question turns and reveals himself further after having just chopped a soldier's arm off with his enormous axe.
The young Stark froze as she stares wide-eyed at the familiar face. That smiling eye, the black hair and beard and the Valyrian steel armour he's wearing. Those features are no doubt of Euron Greyjoy.
She didn't even realize she had moved to stand. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. She picks up Needle from the ground, eyes never leaving him. And feels the anger boiling deep in her system, as hot as molten rock. It churns within, hungry for destruction.
Arya runs.
She bolts towards him with a roar so loud her throat burns as if she would breathe fire itself. Euron snaps his head at the cry, noticing her advance leagues away. Part of her knows that she was being highly stupid in announcing her attack to the whole world. But she doesn't care anymore. Not when Daenerys is no longer alive. Not when the man responsible for her death is right in front.
When her sword slashes viciously at him, it caught nothing but air as Euron backs away easily. Their eyes lock for a moment. His blue eye looks at her with no weight as if she's just another soldier that is being too brave and inexperience. For a while, she envies that ignorance. But then, she remembers his deed in another life and right at this moment—of the life that he had taken away from her.
Arya snarls. Advancing without a care in the world. Her hatred propels her forward and she moves in a speed that made him backs away again with no chance to counter. And when he finally raises his axe, she uses her momentum to push herself outward in a swift motion. The axe misses her shoulder and Needle finds his cheek.
Blood trickles down Euron's face and he watches her differently now.
But, Arya was aiming at his neck. With a frustrated growl, she charges again. Euron keeps moving, expertly stays out of her reach. Unsatisfied, she moves faster, closing in for her sword to find purchase. She notices his smiling eye first before a leg swings at the side and landed at her rib with a painful blow.
She falls with a hard thud. Her head hitting the ground. Her visions swim and ears ringing. The throbbing in her middle and the side of her head the only thing she's highly aware of. Soon, however, another sensation assaults her in a wave. Arya screams in agony as her eyes clear to find her fingers being crushed by Euron's heavy boot, Needle still in place.
His dark blue lips spread, the barest of lift, as he looks down on her. Arya tries to tug and shove with her other hand but it only added into the weight squashing her fingers. Her eyes close, grimacing when he stomps and she finally hears a crack. The excruciating pain somehow surges the last energy she had left out into the open. With a cry, she moves sideways and propelling her legs up and sweeps his legs under him.
Unprepared, the Crow's Eye falls down. His crushing weight left her hand almost immediately and she rolls away as far as she can, cradling her broken fingers along. She didn't have time to look over her injuries knowing that the man is still very much unaffected. And sure enough, Euron is already on his feet again, striding forwards.
Slowly, she pushes herself up as well with a panted breath. Her eyes frantic for Needle but the sword still lay on the opposite side, too far for her now. Instead, Arya opts for a forgotten torch lying on the ground as her substitute. With her good hand, she swings the wooden staff, leaving flaming trails along its path as Euron's axe binds together with it.
The wood tears into two, unable to hold against the sharp edge and all Arya is left with is a short stick. She swings it his way anyway but Euron blocks the attack with ease. As his axe cuts her weapon clean for the second time, his other hand reaches for her throat at the same moment.
The wind is knocked right out of her at the sudden thrust. She gasps for air but Euron's fingers tighten instead, blocking the airway. Easily, he lifts her up. Her feet left the ground worsening it when her body weight excruciatingly pulls her down.
"You look pale." Euron smiles wickedly and so does his eye.
As dizziness gradually takes hold, Arya tries to claw out of his grasp, desperately flailing for something to clutch to. Her ribs heave up and down but no benefit comes either. She closes her eyes and sucks herself into a deep place to cope.
Clashing of steels, screaming of men and the flames hungrily devouring the castle seems far away now, like background noises. The young Stark falls deeper into her safe haven. Where the sky is a beautiful bright blue, the wind cools to the skin, plains of flowers as far as eyes can see wafting a heavenly fragrance. And standing in all of the glory is Daenerys, waiting with a brilliant smile and Arya returns it equally.
Faint shriek echoes along the horizon then and she recognized it instantly. Of course, the dragons should be where Daenerys is. She waits for the winged creatures to show themselves to join the bliss but they never did.
With a jolt Arya blinks her eyes open, surprising even Euron himself. She finds herself back into reality and the horror of the on-going war. Her head turns to where she heard the faint sound but the hold around her neck made it difficult. Just then, she hears it again and so does the Crow's Eye. Their eyes lock onto one another—One with apprehension and another with realization.
Soon enough, the shrieking sound thunders the dark sky revealing Viserion in his grandeur. His roar splits the ground even when he's still flying up above.
"Finally," Euron said, more to himself. Gaze set on the dragon.
Arya finds herself on all four as the Crow's Eye releases his hold around her neck and walks away. She crawls towards Needle all the while wheezing for air to return in her lungs.
"Euron," She calls out, once her good hand grasp the familiar pommel, but her voice only croaked a weak sound. Blinking back the sting in her visions, she gets up. She swallowed an aching knot forming in her throat and starts walking after him. "Euron!" She called clearer this time, but the man didn't stop.
Viserion roars again somewhere up ahead and all Arya can see is his back further away from her and closer to where the dragon is. Her chest burns and she runs after him. "EURON!" she hollered painfully.
He didn't even chance a glance back at her. But it sure does get the attention some of his nearby mutes. She keeps on running even as they come at her from all sides. Ducking and stabbing one that got too close. Another swings his sword at her side and she manoeuvred to the other direction before he can cut her stomach open. Her steps falter and soon she is surrounded by the enemies. Ahead, Euron is nowhere to be seen.
Gripping Needle tightly, she waits with bated breath for them to launch their attack. The first one to her left did so without missing a beat. His sharp blade plunges straight. She ducks out of the way and stabs his underarm, giving him no chance to recover. At the same time he goes down, another comes in from behind and she kicks out leaving him doubling over.
She runs away from the incessant men but one caught up and his blade slashes across her face. She dodges down and rolls over towards him. Her motion gives her leverage and the speed for Needle to stab under his chin. Blood splatters onto her face as she pulls out her sword with a snarl.
The thudding of incoming men only incites her rage. She gets up and faces them, eyes dark and her sword points out and waits for the remaining two men to close in. But, they go down almost at the same time before Theon stood to replace them, bloodied sword in hand.
Arya's eyes clear.
"You alright?" Theon asked, moving close. His eyes still busy searching for more incoming threat but his gaze also found hers in concern.
She barely nods her answer but he saw it nonetheless.
Now that there are no obstacles anymore, Arya is left remembering the issue at hand. She finds Theon in alarm. "Euron is getting the dragon."
Without waiting, she hurries toward where she last saw the Crow's Eye. Theon hot on her trails. A distant roar splits the air again and her feet gain speed, jumping and climbing heaps of rubbles and tattered bodies that are obscuring the paths.
And then another cry sounded. Sharp as a sword-thrust. The sound of a horn tears the cool night. But it wasn't like any other horn that she had heard before. Its voice bight and baneful, a shivering hot scream that made her bones seems to thrum within. The cry lingered in the air and everyone just seemingly stops. All eyes turn toward the vibration up ahead as if in spellbound. A sudden stillness giving way to the terrible sound of wailing pain and fury that burns the ears.
Arya covers hers with a grimace. Her eardrums seemed to be on fire and her head pounds violently inside her skull. She wills her feet to move forward in much effort as the terrifying shriek still goes on. The burning pain was overwhelming making her wants to scream though no one would have heard her.
On and on the sound goes, echoing amongst the howling walls behind the castle and across the waters of Blackwater Bay to ring against the hills of Dragonstone, on and on and on until it fills the whole world.
Beside her, Theon has gone down on his knees, head low on the ground. Arya would have joined him but the thought of Viserion close by and is being affected possibly worse than any of them rendered her from giving up. Expertly, she absorbs the scorching sensation and continues on, leaving Theon behind.
Slowly but surely, she comes close enough to where the source is coming from. Across, a monstrous man with a shaved head is blowing the horn. His cheeks are so puffed out they look about to burst and the muscles in his bare chest twitches in a way that his tattoo expands awkwardly.
The horn he blew is shiny black and twisted and taller than him as he holds it with both hands. It is bound about with bands of red gold and dark steel, incised with ancient Valyrian glyphs that seem to glow redly as the sound swelled. The glyphs are burning brightly, every line and letter shimmering with white fire.
And then after seems like forever, it finally stops. The bald man collapses with blisters on his lips and the tattoo on his chest bleeds out. Arya releases a breath, relief that the terrible sound no longer holds any weight inside her bones.
Right then a faint screeching jolts her into focus. Her legs carry her onwards again, still stumbling and uncoordinated but forward. When Viserion finally emerges in her line of vision, he was already on the ground. Wings apart and head low as someone is standing close right in front.
Arya's heart skips a beat faster as she sees Euron's profile. Instead of tearing the man in half, the dragon lowers his head, almost touching the ground. Touching Euron's feet. The Crow's Eye made contact and for a moment he does nothing but leaning his head against his snouts.
She bolts towards them. Jumping over unmoving bodies and breaking stones. But, Euron is so far away and is already moving to mount the dragon. She wills for her leg to move faster but to no avail.
Viserion has taken the sky with the Crow's Eye, leaving the remains of the main gate of the Red Keep bare.
Eventually, Arya slows down and watches the dragon flies further away in a daze. There's no way she can defeat Euron now. There's truly nothing left for her to do. She had failed.
And Bran is wrong. The fucking three-eyed raven knew nothing.
Daenerys is dead and soon, her family in Winterfell will be too. There is nothing she can do anymore.
"VISERION!"
Arya blinks her daze away and snaps her head. Recognizing the familiar sound despite the burning wrath it carries. In fact, she recognized the voice because of it. She couldn't believe her eyes when a flash of silver enters her vision right after.
There, across the main courtyard, Daenerys is running towards her child. Calling out desperately up the sky. Aggo is running after her with Missandei and some other guards. But, they were stopped in their track by a group of enemies. And Arya finds herself moving again. This time with renewed hope.
The mutes have obscured the dragon queen's paths and Viserion is long gone. Aggo and the other guards instantly by Daenerys and soon both sides engage in a fight. Around the castle, the sound of steel clashing and shouting carries out again, seeming to remember that they're currently at war. Her limbs are sore and aching from every part as they stretch desperately to get closer and faster to where Daenerys is.
And that's when Aggo took a fall with two swords stabbing at each side. The other guards now outnumbered and the other mutes move on to Daenerys and Missandei. The Queen's guards can provide no assistance since some of them are still involved in a fight of their own and some already dead.
Everything seems to suddenly move slow as her gaze finds both Daenerys and Missandei are being separated and now in serious trouble. One with a sword pointing close to her face and another with a sword merely inches from her neck. Grey eyes flicker back and forth at the two women wide in terror.
The Naathi notices the new presence coming and their gazes lock. The familiar brown eyes call out in a silent desperate plea as she struggles from the man's grip from behind her, dragging her further away. Arya saw it as clear as day even through the glassy layers swimming in her vision as she's moving further away in the opposite direction—towards Daenerys instead.
With an aching scream, her blade slashes severely the side of the mute's neck the same time she hears Missandei's last cry. Another nearby had finally noticed the new addition but he was too late to do anything as Arya doesn't stop and crashes against his frame. Needle finds its way through his stomach and out his back. She kicks him to retrieve her sword only to put it inside another flesh that missed swinging his blade at her back.
He buckles down on his knee at a hole left on his ankle and soon onto the ground as she impaled him from the crown of his head. Arya takes no notice of the more red splattered onto her features. Everywhere else seems to be of the same anyway. Especially of the blade of the soldier that has just drawn out Missandei's blood. The red is dripping from it as he runs towards her now. But all Arya can see is the colour adorning his steel.
So much red.
The young Stark focuses at the pointing sword that is closer by the second instead of the woman's body that she knows occupied the ground behind him. The pain from clenching her jaw so hard—her teeth is hurting—is nothing compared to knowing that she had failed again. Her chest rises and falls so quickly yet she still feels suffocated.
When the enemy's sword is mere inches from her face, Arya finds herself moving swiftly to the side surprising him and herself. Apparently her subconscious still wouldn't give up in living. So with a war cry, she slashes her way towards him from below. When he still doesn't go down, she stabs at his side, deep. Her breath puckers onto his face. He only stares back wide-eyed and she twisted Needle for good measure. Being so close to his face, she has the luxury to watch as the remaining of his life leave through his eyes and the last of his breath leave his mouth.
With Needle successfully claimed yet another life, she turns and looks down. Ashen greys finally meet pale violets. Arya offers a hand and the dragon queen reaches out and climbs to her feet again.
The knots in Arya's muscles ease—however small—at the sight of a perfectly alive Daenerys standing in front of her. The older woman offers nothing in return as her gaze flickers down to the heap of dead soldiers lay around them before she looks up again.
"You saved me." Daenerys finally mutters in awe and gratitude.
Arya says nothing. Equally relief and horrified to know what saving Daenerys had cost.
As if the older woman knows, violet eyes flicker somewhere above Arya's shoulder. The young Stark can only watch Daenerys paling by the second and her gaze widens in fear before she jolts into action and runs, unintentionally colliding with Arya's shoulder to get to her destination.
The sudden force made the young Stark turns as well to finally see the person that she couldn't save. The person that she had sacrificed.
Daenerys was already on her knees beside the Naathi. Her hands covering Missandei's open neck intended to stop the bleeding. But it was of no use. The blood had already made a pool underneath and Arya can no longer see the brown eyes as they are closed tightly.
"Help me!" Daenerys shouts over her shoulder. Her fingers are slick with red as they still wrapped around Missandei's neck in a false effort.
Arya finally moves only to go down and kneels beside Missandei's limp body, eyes never leaving the peaceful face of the older woman lying on the cold ground. She reaches out to find the hand at the side. No pulse and no warmth. "She's gone." Her voice choked.
But Daenerys hears it clearly and looks back and forth at the silent form of Missandei and now Arya. "No," She tightens her slippery hold around the woman's neck. "Get me some cloth, anything so I can stop the bleeding... Quickly! I need something to stop this!" She said in a desperate cry when Arya doesn't do anything but stare.
"She's gone." The young Stark said again. Her grips around Missandei's hand still intact and tightens. Tears roll down her face unexpectedly as she finally seeks violet ones. "I'm sorry."
Daenerys freezes. Her throat clogs up, making it hard to swallow. She shakes her head lightly still unable to comprehend why the young woman would show such vulnerable reaction. "No, help me!" She said miserably. Her vision obscured by a mist of glassy layers.
Arya couldn't help the tears still coming down as she reaches out to Daenerys instead. Pulling her bloodied hands away from Missandei's open wound. "She's gone, Daenerys."
As moments pass, the violet depths in front slowly lose their strength. The young Stark can only watch the despair replaced in those orbs as they finally register the reality of the situation—of the friend that they had lost forever.
Daenerys was eerily quiet as she stares down at Missandei's lifeless face. Her bloodied hands now resting on her own lap and Arya can do nothing but offers the older woman her space. But even then, they couldn't afford the luxury of staying down here for much longer as around them the war still goes on. And by the look of it, the fighting may as well be declared over in any minute. One thing Arya does know is that they can't stay here when that happens.
"We have to go, Daenerys." She said, eyes seeking out to unresponsive ones. "You're not safe here, we have to go now." Arya reaches out to take the woman's hand again only to meet with unmoving limbs.
The dragon queen only turns her head to find her, eyes clear and aflame. "After all that has happened, you want me to run?"
"Look around," Arya pleads. Hoping for Daenerys to notice the growing numbers of the enemies, the rubbles of what once stood the Red Keep and the defeated bodies lying around the castle ground in more or less in a similar state as the one that they are kneeling upon. "You're not safe here."
Daenerys doesn't seem to care about any of that and replies with fury, "So do my men. So do the people in Kings Landing. I will not abandon them."
And soon, the dragon queen climbs to her feet. A resolute look crosses her features as she starts walking towards a destination. Arya is right on her trail and stops her, tugging the woman close by her arm as they come face to face.
"There's nothing else you can do!" Grey eyes pin her down, matching the fire in those violet depths. "You got no army to back you up. The castle is burning and the enemies are conquering every single corner of it. If Euron gets to you, then everything else will be in vain." She releases a breath and softens considerably. "Listen to me, there's no shame in running remember, you get to live to fight another day." But, the older woman only stares, still unresolved. "Daenerys please, I can't protect you here."
The eyes in front falter at that but Arya might have been too hopeful and blames it at the trick of light when it is gone the moment Daenerys speaks again.
"He has Viserion. I will not let him take away and use my child." Each word was filled with flaming hatred.
Before Arya can respond, they are interrupted by a familiar shrieking splitting the air. Their attentions turn upward and sure enough, Drogon and Rhaegal fly overhead the night sky and away towards where Viserion was last seen.
So dumbstruck by the new addition, Arya didn't realize that Daenerys has taken off the same direction as her children. Only when she looks to her side did she noticed the dragon queen is gone and is already ten feet away.
Arya curses under her breath and quickly runs after the older woman, legs stretching as fast as she can to match Daenerys incredible speed.
"DAENERYS!" She calls desperately but the older woman paid her no heed. At the side, her gaze finds the enemies picking up the dragonhorn from the fallen man and upfront, other men have joined in the run as well.
For a short while, she is grateful that Daenerys doesn't stop so the mutes don't have the chance to capture her. With Needle tightly in her grip, Arya strikes the closest man in front. He goes down in a rolling heap as her blade punctures his back. Her surprise was short-lived when the others notice their fallen comrade and stop running.
They turn toward her instead and she is forced to face a wall of men. Daenerys has long disappeared up ahead as she runs past the rubble of the main gate. But soon that image is then replaced by a slashing sword coming across her face. Instinctively, Arya ducks and runs to wound his open side. As the soldier doubles over, she wastes no time and moves forward again.
Worry and apprehension fuelling her advance that she didn't even notice another sword has been swinging at her side just as she finished cutting another man. Arya ignores the splitting pain as the blade cut the side of her waist open and thrust Needle through the mute's chest with a vicious growl instead. Before he even goes down to the ground, she was already running, ignoring the wound that is profusely bleeding down her side to get to where she needs to be.
She jumps over the broken stones of the main gate and swallowed the excruciating pain as the long gash at her waist seems to widen by the action. However, the pain fades away as Arya finally finds a familiar silver hair not far. Relief washes over in an instant even as she is still left panting breathlessly.
The older woman is standing at the end of the hill overlooking the three dragons circling one another. Luckily, there is no apparent threat nearby though Arya moves just as swiftly to Daenerys side, eyes busy for a sudden attack that could come at any time.
"Daenerys, we need—"
Her words die in her mouth as her gaze finds what Daenerys is really looking at. Not at the sky but down at Kings Landing.
Flames as tall as the building itself are dancing in the night and are engulfing parts of the city. The smoke billowed black across the streets and the air smelt of burning. Charred wooden posts and gaping walls. The flame bursts into another colour of scorching green as explosions from inside the ground burst from the reaction.
"Viserion did this." Daenerys suddenly speaks. Her eyes glazed over by the reflection of the fire's glare. The wind howls heightening the wailing of the people that got burned alive. "He breathes fire on them." She said, eyes never leaving the massacre.
Despite the increasing heat coming off down below, Arya still shivers. The addition smell of burning flesh soon dominates every breath and the flames are getting louder than she expected, roaring as they consumed what was once a fine home and places for business and of a living body.
For a while, neither move as they watch the horror that is happening before their eyes until the dragons' loud screeching break their trance. Drogon and Rhaegal are still circling Viserion in a fight. Breathing fire onto one another creating a magnificent sight below the moonlight were they not in a war.
Having been outnumbered, Viserion flies further away and circle them in a brilliant move as to deflect their attack. The other two beasts would have collided onto each other if Rhaegal hadn't manoeuvred away at the last minute. Arya doesn't want to believe that the Crow's Eyes is capable of handling Viserion with such expertise but the sight before her only confirms her fear.
She finds Daenerys in alarm. "You need to send Drogon and Rhaegal away. They are readying the dragonhorn as we speak and in a matter of seconds, Euron will have all three of them."
The violet orbs flicker into focus and then of wide terror in realization. Daenerys looks up at the busy dragons and then down the burning city. "I— I can't."
Arya frowns, incredulous. "What do you mean you can't?"
"They won't listen to me. And they're too far. I can't stop Viserion when— I can't…" Daenerys said desperately. Eyes frantic and distraught.
The young Stark has never seen such helpless look on the older woman's face before and she hated it with her entire being. Slowly, she moves closer and reaches out, cradling Daenerys face gently—and awkwardly with her broken fingers—until their forehead almost touches.
Only when the crystal violet depths settle onto hers in a calm manner did Arya finally speaks, "You are the Mother of dragons." She declared with conviction. Remembering their dragon ride another life ago, she presses on. "Believe in yourself and call for them. They will hear you—they are your children. They will always listen wherever you are. You can still save Drogon and Rhaegal, Daenerys."
Something changes in those violet eyes as soon as the young woman said her piece. Daenerys closes her eyes as her hand reaches up to hold Arya's wrist that is still supporting her. And Arya did the same, savouring the comforting warmth of them being close together. She can even pretend that there are no men fighting to their deaths and no innocent people burning alive at each of their sides but the thoughts are futile when suddenly another loud shrieking echoes the heating night.
They pull away at the same time and watch as Drogon and Rhaegal seeming to retreat and flying further and further away from the city. Viserion moves to chase after them but soon drop the effort and let them go when they are already too far gone.
"You did it," Arya mutters, finding Daenerys and back at the disappearing sight of the dragons. Knowing that they will not be affected the same way as Viserion dissipates some of her tension and the older woman seems to share the sentiment as well.
The cries of men from both sides push the young Stark back into unease. "We need to go." She said to the dragon queen and received no refusal this time around. With a new purpose, she hands over Needle which Daenerys only takes with silent confusion and hesitation.
Arya then runs towards the rubbles where she noticed a bow and arrow from before. She picks up the scattered arrows around the dead soldier and takes his bow from his grip last, before running back to the dragon queen.
The timing could not have been worse when a group of the enemies surfaces from the other side of the broken stones. Swallowing the stinging pain as she forced her twisted fingers into gripping the bow, she releases her first arrow. It pierced a mute's shoulder who was gaining close on them and another's thigh behind him.
Steel grey eyes find violets then. "Stay close to me." She ordered and takes off. Daenerys trails close by with Needle pointing out awkwardly at her side.
They run towards the street and the still burning city, rounding every corner of the road that is still able to hold them. Arya can only pray that the fire would not swallow them both. Of course right after a turn down the empty street, another explosion erupts from behind, drowning the men that have been chasing after them inside a flame of vicious green.
The ground beneath their feet thunders and her back felt the force of scorching heat as it sends her flying a few seconds in the air. For a long while, Arya can feel nothing but the muffled ringing in her ears. But, bit by bit her senses regain themselves.
The first feeling is the hot ground pressing hard against her cheek. Her head pounds behind her closed lids and her breath choking on the thickening smoke. She forces open her eyes to find nothing but the black haze enveloping the surrounding. "Daenerys!" she calls out desperately. But, it was met with the roaring of flames and rumbles of buildings.
With the last energy that she has left, Arya pushes her body upward, only managing to move into a kneeling position, though her forehead still touches the ground. Her eyes are so heavy and she is left beyond exhausted. Perhaps if she can rest for a while, her strength would come again.
Before the young Stark can slide back onto the ground and do just that, a sudden force propels her upward by the arm and successfully onto her feet. She looks to her side and met with a familiar pool of violet.
"Can you walk?" Daenerys asked. Her gaze filled with a determined intensity as dangerous as the flames around them. Her cheek and forehead covered with soot and her clothes have burning holes. Despite that, the older woman remains untouched by the heat.
Arya nods at the question late. Relief and hopeful.
They continue forward—stumbling—along with the remains of the street. Daenerys supporting the additional weight, Needle still within her other grip and Arya pointing the way that she thought would get them out the city. But, the black smoke is making her job difficult by the second.
Just as she is starting to lose hope again, she saw something moving beneath the thick haze in front of them. Inspite of the burning flames, Arya can clearly see a silhouette of what she believes to be their way out of here. With a sudden surge of energy she didn't know she had, she left the comfort of Daenerys side only to reach down, taking the woman's hand in hers and dashes forward.
The dragon queen didn't have a choice but to follow along. Though sure enough, a pale horse emerges from the ruins as if it has been waiting for them there all night.
As Arya gets closer, she noticed its eyes sporting a familiar milky white. The same colour she last saw Bran's raven. But, they were gone soon after and the horse's normal black eyes replaced them.
The young Stark didn't have time to question what that could mean and pets the animal in an attempt to soothe it down. Her effort is uncalled for since the pale horse emancipates nothing as much as agitation despite being surrounded by engulfing fires. Without waiting, she climbs atop the mare and offers a hand to the other woman waiting down below.
Daenerys hops on soon after, circling her arms around the girl's waist securely. Arya locks her grips in its mane and with a kick at its sides, the horse gallops towards the city gate. The blazing air and smoke curled around them as they escape the colourful flames that are drowning every part of the city.
And when Daenerys tightens her hold around Arya as they passed the screaming people getting eaten alive by the voracious firestorms, the young Stark can do nothing but ride faster.
Away from the hellhole that neither can no longer stop.