The Dragon's Home

It Was Always Meant to End

Arya squinted, white dust coating her eyelashes. The doorway had collapsed behind her, the entire Red Keep having taken a hard impact. The rubble around her would've prevented her from going back regardless. Maybe, if she had hours to pick through the stones.

But she only had minutes. Her part wasn't over yet. She tried to move, but her leg was stuck under bits and pieces of stone. She grabbed it with both her hands and pulled as hard as she could, but it only slightly budged.

Again.

Again.

She screamed in frustration and effort, and city still rumbling around her, feeling the tremors of explosions elsewhere.

There. The ground shifted just enough for her to pull her leg out. She stood up and quickly examined it. The large gash was bleeding, and it hurt like hell, but she'd had worse.

Where was Qyburn? Her eyes darted around, wondering which way he'd gone. Down the hall? Or down the steps? Or up the steps?

She didn't have time for this.

Ah!

She spotted his cloak amidst the rubble in the hall. A large pillar had crushed his chest.

Saved her the effort of killing him. Not that it would've taken much. She scrambled over to him, climbing over the pieces of ceiling and wall that had caved in.

She'd been lucky. Lucky that some of the structure still stood. Lucky this area hadn't been the main target. Just aftermath.

She stood over Qyburn's dead body and pulled out her knife.

————

The bells rang.

The gates opened.

Tyrion and Sansa both loosed a breath at the same time. Arya had done her part. At least that much had gone right. Tyrion could've sworn he saw something like pride and relief flash across Sansa's face, but it was short lived.

Greyworm nodded, and gave the command for the small army to march towards the gates.

————-

Arya slipped off Qyburn's mask as she rounded the hallway, watching her step as she scrambled over debris.

The Queen was dead, she told them. As Hand, his order was to ring the surrender bells.

They had looked shock. But followed her order none the less.

She hoped everything had gone according to plan. Hoped Daenerys was okay, hoped she hadn't been in the blasts.

There were thousands dead in the streets. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in front you, impossible to breath deeply with the thick smog that was now covering the city.

Where was he where was he where was he.

She climbed up what was left of the stairs, making a few risky jumps where they had collapsed. Back up the Red Keep.

Back to Cersei's room, where The Hound had been trapped with his brother. She prepared for the worst as she neared the blocked doorway. Her leg was still bleeding through the fabric she had wrapped around it, but it had slowed now to an ooze.

She reached the doorway, and began pulling the stones out of the way. She just needed to clear enough to be able to crawl through, but wasn't sure how thick it was.

She flung handfuls of debris down, but it seemed never ending. Finally, she made a little hole, enough that light was peaking through.

"Sandor!" She pressed her face up against the hole.

A grunt came from the other side. "Don't bother." She could hear him now, hear his heavy breaths if she pressed her ear up.

"It'll take you hours to reach me," he said. "I'm not going to last that long."

Arya frowned, yelling into the hole, "So you're just going to give up? Did you kill him?"

"Aye. Many times over. But he finally died."

"Good. What's wrong with you?"

He grunted again, and she knew it must be from the pain. "You don't want to know," he strained. "Not like you'd put me out of my misery anyway."

"I guess I should be grateful to you for leaving me alive that time," he added. "I did what I set out to do."

Arya was sniffing now, and wiped away the lone tear that fell down her cheek. "Help me remove these rocks. We'll get a maester. There has to be a maester around here."

"No...I'm at peace now. This is the way things were always supposed to end."

More tears.

"I'll-" she choked on the word, "then I'll be right here." She furiously pulled more stones out of the way, one by one, handful by handful, stopping every few moments to be sure she could still hear his breaths, widening the hole until it was as big as her fist.

Finally, she peered through, and saw him, his face so swollen it was unrecognizable. His lower half crushed, blood pooled around him. She choked back a sob.

"Don't cry girl. At this point I'm used to it."

He strained to turn his head, until he could finally see her with the swollen slits of his eyes.

"I'm glad you're here. You turned out alright."

She smiled sadly. "Sandor...thank you."

It was all she had to offer. But it was enough.

She stayed with him until he took his last breath.