My take on season 8 of #GameofThrones.
Winter is coming to Westeros as Daenerys and Jon go North to fight the great threat.
The Night king's army grows larger and stronger, the days get colder and the nights darker.
Arya, Bran and Sansa struggle to...
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The thick layer of snow that had covered the ground of the battlements was ornated with a trail of short footsteps, and bird steps.The snow crackled under the crow's feet but Arya was silent as a shadow, as she should; the slightest noise would spook the bird away.
When she approached the bird to an attainable distance, she slowly reached for her sword. In a sudden move, she pulled it out of its handle. The noise alerted the bird, who spread its wings and took off. Arya swung her needle high over her head. It cut trough the crow's feathers, and the bird came crashing down right into her hand. She watched it bleed out in her grasp and listened as it squeaked in agony. When the suffering bird drew its last breath, an overwhelming wave crashed through her chest, and washed away all that she has been drowning in. It gave her chills every time, they ran up her spine and tingled the back of her neck, she took a life, she did but she'd do anything for that high. It's just a bird, she thought. She opened her eyes to her hand stained in the blood of the dead bird she was holding. It made no sound as it dripped on the snow, at least none she could hear. An absolute silence screamed into her ears. Staring down at her victim, she took a few steps and stuck her hand over the battlements. With a swing of the wrist she let the bird fall into the void, along with the unruly feelings she failed to tame.
The snow was a dusty shade of pink and death stood on the battlements of Winterfell. She closed her eyes as the chilly wind caressed the rosy and dry skin on her cheeks, let a heavy breath out and felt the peace. Her eyes opened and looked into the horizon, far in the distance. There was something twirling in the clouds above the woods. She leaned over and squinted. Is it- Arya's eyes widened. Dragons. The corner of her lips curled up. Just as majestic as described in the books, they flew in circle in the sky with a grace that she had never read about. The flap of their wings bounced on the air with the elegance of a dancing maid. She couldn't take her eyes off the beauty she was witnessing.
« So that's what you've been up to? » a raspy voice came crushing into her bubble « Slaying birds with that ridiculous sword of yours? » he sneered.
The voice came from the right, in the corner between the wall and the tower. Arya turned towards it, and saw the Hound, seated on the ground, leaning against the wall.
« I was gutted in those bloody mountains for your unworthy life so you can go after some stupid bird? » he shook his head. « What are doing up here? » she said to him and put her hands stained in blood behind her back « Hiding from Brienne? » They stared at each other straight in the eyes with closed up faces until their lips curled up without them knowing. Sandor held on to the battlement to help himself up and walked towards her. « How did you make it? » she asked. « I got some help. » he barked « From poeple with an actual beating heart » he said walking past her, and down the stairs. « Where are they now? » He stopped and turned to her, « Dead. » « You killed them? An inevitable faith for those who let you in. » « I killed those who killed them. » he took one step down turned back again « They're waiting on you to show the ladies that little dance you did with umm ... how is it you call it? Stick? » « Needle » she answered. « Needle » he said with a high pitched voice, to mock her, and went down the stairs. Arya waited until left to smile.
