Chapter Text
The floors of the Great Septs of Baleor are painted crimson, marking the end of King Joffery's tyranny. Chaos ensues outside the religious ground, Northmen brandishing the Gold Cloaks with steal. She doesn`t hear the screams, doesn`t see the lifeless bodies scattered around her, doesn`t feel anything but the pure hatred, directed towards the greasy slime ball that took her father`s head when she was a mere child of nine.
The pathway between the King and herself is clear, the Northmen have already broken through the Royal defences, leaving the boy-king unscathed. They know this is her kill. He looks helpless, when he looks at her. Scared, like the craven he is.
She doesn`t hesitate when she jumps him, doesn`t hesitate when she pierces the dagger through his flesh. She thought it would bring her joy to hear his screams, to see the blood spill from his body until he is pale and still. But she doesn`t feel happy, she doesn`t feel sad, she just feels rage as she continues stabbing him over and over again.
She doesn`t realise she is screaming, she doesn`t realise there are tears spilling down her cheeks. She doesn`t even realise when he finally stops struggling and looks up at her unseeing, with pale, empty, green eyes. All she can think about is his evil smirk when he ordered her sister to be beaten, the glint in his eyes when he ordered for her father`s death. He didn`t even have the courage to do it himself, the coward. He who passes the sentence should swing the sword.
"This is for Sansa" she screams, as she plunges the dagger back in his non-beating heart. "For Robb!" *stab* "For my mother!" *stab* "For Micah!" *stab* "For Lady!" *stab* "For the North!" *stab* "For father!" *stab, stab, stab*
There are multiple stab wounds in him, when he finally pulls her off him. She`s still fighting, still trying to stab her dagger in his heart even after he pulls her away. He carries her away from Joffery, away from the fighting, away from everything while her crushing her petite body to his. He`s holding her firmly in place, but the touch is soft- soothing. It is as if he is shielding her away from the cruelty of it all, from the madness that temporarily took over. Arya sobs into his chest and he gently strokes her back, comforting her.
Hours go by, and darkness has fallen, but he is still there, holding onto her, comforting her. He`s always been there for her, never abandoning her side even past all the fury and the madness. It then occurs to her that he is here to stay, her stupid bull-headed boy. He is her balance, he is her shield, but most importantly, he is her Gendry.