Game of Thrones season 7 fanfiction

THE LORD'S SON

The funeral was a quiet procession. Walder Frey's pyre lay on the lush green grass outside the Twins surrounded by his friends, family and servants. The morning's frosty wind was filled with sullen silence.

Waldron Frey stood at the back crying silently. It was not as if Walder Frey had been nice to him in general, but after all, he was his father.

The death like silence went on for a while. Finally, the grey-eyed Stevron Frey spoke up. "Friends, family" he said clearing his throat. "Today we have gathered here to pay our final respects to Walder Frey, Lord of the Twins, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident." He looked around nervously. "He was a man of wisdom, a just lord and a magnificent parent. He will be missed terribly. But now his time here is done. May the Seven protect his soul and let him rest in peace."

There was a polite applause. Taking the torch from his sister's hand, Stevron set the pyre aflame. Within minutes, the man with the three big titles became a heap of ashes.

"Freys!" Derwa Frey cried. "Our lord is gone but house Frey is not! Stevron Frey becomes the lord. That deserves a celebration. Tonight, we will have a big feast for all the Freys, trueborn and baseborn." The people responded to her words with a weak cheer.

"Brother!" Stevron Frey rushed towards Waldron, huffing. "Doing okay?"

Wiping his eyes, Waldron nodded. "Father was a good man."

"Yes, yes, he was very good," Stevron agreed. They walked in silence for a while.

"I saw her," Waldron said suddenly.

Stevron looked confused. "What?"

"I saw the girl who killed our father."

Astonishment reflected on the new Lord's face. "Why didn't you yell or do something?"

His eyes became watery again. "I opened my mouth but no words came out. All I could do was stand there helplessly watching the girl fling open the doors and run away." He started to sob again.

"Brother," Stevron said soothingly. "What is gone is gone. There is no point in crying over it." He patted him heavily on the back. "Now go to the kitchens and drink till you drop."

Waldron nodded silently and marched to the kitchens. He spent the rest of his day there eating and drinking and hiding from his brothers and sisters.

The feast was very noisy. The soldiers had done the job of setting up the tables and gone back to their duties.

"I'm so hungry that I could eat dog shit!" complained Waldron Frey. He had seated himself at the high table in between Stevron and Derwa Frey. "How long do I have to wait?"

"Be patient, brother," Derwa chided. "It is forbidden to eat or drink before the Lord's toast."

The rest of the hall was buzzing with Freys. They were joking, japing, making weird noises. It was as if Walder Frey had never died.

"Your attention please," Derwa Frey boomed. "I would like to toast for the new Lord of the Twins. Long may he reign! To Stevron!" She took a sip.

Waldron reached for his glass and knocked it over. Wine spilled on the table and on the floor.

"To Stevron," the others cheered and drank.

"Klutz," Derwa taunted. She turned to Ryger Rivers. "Any news from the Boltons?"

"Don't you know anything you half-wit?" Ryger taunted.

"Careful, bastard!" Derwa Frey threatened.

Rivers ignored her. "The Boltons are gone. Jon Snow rules Winterfell." He took a huge bite of his lamb. "King in the North, they call him. I say we invite him here and paint his clothes red. Kof!" He coughed. "Just like his preposterous brother. Kof! Ack!" He broke into a fit of coughing.

"Fetch him some water!" Derwa yelled patting Ryger's back. A servant hurriedly poured water into a goblet and handed it to Ryger. He raised it to his lips, took a sip and spat blood.

Silence fell on the whole table. Ryger Rivers slumped in his seat and landed on the floor with a huge thud. Blood was gushing from his mouth, nose and ears.

"Seven hells!" hissed Stevron Frey.

"The maester! Kof!" yelled Derwa. "Somebody kof, kof, kof, ack!" She clutched her throat. Her cough became a horrible thin whistle as she struggled to breathe. She collapsed in a heap on the ground.

The hall was going berserk. People were coughing violently clawing at their throats. Many collapsed to the ground with blood flowing from their mouths and nostrils.

"Waldron!" Stevron Frey choked. His eyes were bloodshot. "The wine...."

"I know," Waldron said smiling at him. He stood up. "What goes around eventually comes back, doesn't it?"

And in a swift motion, Arya ripped Waldron's face off hers and tossed it onto the man's plate.

Stevron went insane. He got off his chair and squeezed her throat tightly. His fingernails dug into her skin. "Who the heck are you!?" he rasped.

Arya Stark said nothing. She stared back coldly savouring the situation.

"You, kof! Kof! Kof!" Stevron's grip loosened. And in a moment, he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

The hall went quiet. Arya reached into her pocket, pulled out the poison and grinned at it. She sat down on one of the chairs. Her head was buzzing with all the thoughts of the day.

Waldron Frey had just arrived after she had killed Walder Frey. Without waiting for a second Arya had slit his throat. After cutting the man's face, she had hidden his body underneath a broken floorboard.

She observed the corpses bedecking the floor. Seeing so many dead Freys gave her mind peace.

Where to go now?

Winterfell, she thought. It was her everything. It was her father's comforting hug and her mother's loving kiss. It was Robb's courage and Jon's assuring smile. It was Bran and Rickon's innocence. It was Sansa's sweet song and Nymeria's fierce howl. It was home.

Why not go north? Jon would love to see me, to mess my hair and call me 'little sister.'

Arya got up and gathered all her things. She danced across the hall happily trodding the corpses. There were no guards outside but there were some at the gate. "Who goes there?" one of them asked as she arrived on her horse. "I'm just getting some fresh air," she replied. "I do not want to intrude the feast of crows."

She spurred her brown mare before anyone could get the meaning and trotted out into the dark cold night.

Cersei, she remembered suddenly. The Mountain, Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, The Red Woman. Valar Morghullis. Cersei and Joffrey had murdered her father in front of her eyes and Gregor Clegane had slain her dearest friends.

Vengeance is what I want and vengeance I shall have. Taking a last look at the Twins, she spurred her horse and began to make her way towards King's Landing.