Chapter Text
The feast in the Small Hall was at its height when the arrival of Lord Varys was announced. Queen Cersei waved her hand bidding him in. She was sitting in the centre of the table, dressed in emerald silks laced with pale green.
Varys entered, his magnificent clothes sawn with golden threads rustling as he walked. Despite his usual self he wasn’t smiling, his lips were sealed tight. The deep furrow on his forehead gave away his anxiety and uneasiness. He bent ever so slightly and came closer to the Queen. The servant with him put a big, richly decorated vase in front of her.
“Lord Varys, did you decide to surprise us?” Cersei smiled. “What is it? I’m dying to see.”
Varys took a handkerchief out of his sleeve and blotted his forehead. Then he leaned to the Queen and started whispering. It was easy to see the Queen disliked what he was saying, her smile faded, wrinkles appeared around her mouth. Her face turned into a stony white mask. She listened to Varys, looked around the guests and ordered:
“Show it!”
His hands trembling, the eunuch lifted the lid and a startled gasp ran through the hall. On the black velvet was Ser Meryn Trant’s one-eyed head. There was folded parchment strapped with a grey ribbon in the empty eye-socket.
Cersei winced in disgust but took the message and read it. Twisting her lips, she tore the parchment and called for one of the white knights standing at the wall. She gave all the necessary orders and continued drinking as if nothing out of ordinary had happened. She waved with her cup for the feast to go on.
The music was loud but the guests kept whispering. Cersei’s smile was starting to look more like an evil grin. She was prepared to meet the enemy face to face and waiting turned the feast into an excruciating torture.
And at that very moment…
Arya Stark got inside the Red Keep through the cellar of the Master of Whisperer’s house. The East Yard was full of guards but the darkness covered the uninvited guest.
In Arya’s head the voice of the man from the House of Black and White whispered:
“The darkness is the gift of the Many-Faced God. It’ll cover you and protect you; it’ll hide you from the unwanted attention. Just let it hug you.”
Arya froze waiting for the grey haze to engulf her and then went to the gate of the Small Hall. Her step was springy but silent. The two guards at the door were bored and didn’t even squeak when a thick cloud of darkness stung them in the guts with an invisible yet sharp blade. They died quickly and Arya continued on her way.
The doors to the Small Hall were guarded by five soldiers in heavy armour. The torches were bright but Arya didn’t need to hide anymore. In a moment the air was filled with swords clanging so loud it overlapped the noise of the feast. Arya fought violently but remained cool-headed as those soldiers were simply in her way to the sacred goal.
She pushed the heavy doors and came inside.
The Hall welcomed her with total silence. It was so thick the air seemed dead forever. Arya looked around and saw wide-opened eyes, gaping mouths, horrified faces. She looked past all the people who seemed to have turned into stone and found the one she was looking for.
“Queen Cersei!” said Arya in solemn voice.
The words broke the silence as if by magic. Somebody shrieked. The Queen stood up; her crimson lips a flare on her dead pale face.
“The spawn of the traitor Stark,” she proudly sneered. “Well, Varys has given me your message.”
“That’s good.” Arya sneered back. “So, you’ve been expecting me.”
“Of course, I even arranged someone to welcome you.” Cersei bent her head and an enormous knight in white armour came from behind her chair. His face was hidden behind the visor. Steel clad hands were clutching a two handed sword.
The knight stood beside the Queen silently waiting for her orders.
“Say hello to Lady Arya” the Queen mockingly told him. The steel giant hit the floor with his sword thrice.
“This is Robert Strong, my champion.” Cersei stroked his shining arm. “He has saved me once and will do that again and again for as long as need be…”
Arya squeezed her sword. She’d heard of Ser Robert Strong. That was thanks to his immense power that Cersei had managed to keep the throne and, possibly, her life. They said that Qyburn created the cursed knight with his forbidden magic. Well, now Arya had a chance to know for sure if that was true.
“That would be my honour…” Arya was steadily looking for any faults in the giant’s armour.
Cersei’s smile was blindly wide.
“You didn’t think it was going to be so easy, bitch, did you?”
Arya lifted her sword and took a stance.
“In fact, that was exactly what I thought.”
Ser Robert’s attack was instantaneous, which was unexpected from such a huge man. The blade cut the air right near Arya’s ear and she managed to escape the blow only thanks to her impossible reaction of the servant of the Many-Faced God.
She jumped to the side and felt the deadly cold breath on her cheek. The knight was advancing and swinging his sword. Arya lunged forward aiming at the opening in the armour on his knee. She had Ser Meryn Trant’s dagger in her left hand in a split second. She didn’t think she could distract the knight with a false blow but a second blade wouldn’t go amiss. Arya span high into the air and hit Ser Robert into the chest. It was like hitting a rock. He threw her back with his steel clad hand as if she was some annoying insect. She gasped with the sharp pain in the stomach, rolled over and jumped to her feet. She’d done it just in time because the wide blade hit the floor where her head had just been.
Arya rolled under the knight’s feet and thrust the dagger into a slot of his armour boot hoping to slow him down even if just a bit. The giant didn’t even seem to notice. He kept advancing like a callous statue, just as dead and inexorable. Arya stroke back and felt her whole arm go numb. Ser Robert Strong didn’t get his name for nothing. For a moment Arya felt cold fear creeping up her back because the enemy was too strong for her, too fast.
She escaped another attack and saw the Queen’s green eyes. They were greedily watching the fight. Ser Strong’s attack was so fierce Arya had to back off to avoid getting killed and she knew then that she wouldn’t last long.
They were going in circles, Arya didn’t even try to attack, and she just kept fighting back, saving the energy for the defense. Time was passing like sand falling down a glass vessel. She was getting ever so tired. The rate of the fight was too fast, exhausting. Arya’s sleeves were heavy with blood from the many cuts. A few times she thought the knight was playing with her, prolonging her suffering. The darkness behind her eyes beckoned her, told her to stop fighting, to give in and leave forever, to put an end to this horrible dance with the beast.
And once again she heard the voice of the man from the House of Black and White.
Who are you, stupid girl?
Her knees buckled, a sharp pain in the right side woke her up. She dropped the dagger and pressed her hand to the wound, staggering.
I’m nobody. She whispered and closed her eyes welcoming the darkness. I’m nobody.
She was a bad apprentice, she’d never learned that lesson. Arya expected the man from the House of Black and White to tell her she was lying again, but the voice stayed silent.
Nobody. she repeated out loud and saw Ser Robert freeze mid-swing. He didn’t see her. As didn’t the guests, although they kept turning their heads, trying to find her. No matter how sharp were their eyes they were not able to see the hazy shadow in the middle of the Small Hall.
The Many-Faced God took her in.
With a yell of fury she thrust her sword in Ser Robert’s armpit. The knight staggered, dropped his sword and Arya cut his head off. The sound of steel cutting steel was so high she’d almost gone deaf. Ser Robert Strong made a step, then another, and fell on the floor. Arya jumped ahead to catch his head and was horrified to see the helmet was empty. She picked up her sword and started hitting the body, breaking the armour of the Queen’s knight like a giant crab’s shell. And it turned out the armour plates were covering soft slimy flesh covered with intricate rotten veins. The skin was partly blackened and cracked as if burned, and partly blistered pink, full of pus waiting to break through.
Arya faltered a few steps back, holding her nose, not that it could help against the sickening stench from the corpse that used to be Ser Gregor Clegane.
Arya picked up the dagger and came up to Cersei. She even felt a little bit of respect for her when the Queen unfastened the tight emerald necklace leaving her throat exposed.
That night, for the first time in the last six years, Arya slept like a baby without having said her usual prayer.
Ser Gregor, Dansen, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei...