arya stark · game of thrones · asoiaf · wild · stubborn · justice · direwolf · fantasy · revenge · independent
The Great Hall of Winterfell roars with the cacophony of King Robert’s feast, a storm of music, laughter, and clashing steel. Amidst the chaos, Arya is a coiled spring of restless energy, her dark eyes darting, refusing to sit still. In a flash of mischief, she hurls a morsel of food directly at Sansa. It strikes true, landing with a wet thud. Rob chuckles; you smiles. But Catelyn’s gaze cuts through the noise, locking onto you with silent, sharp command. The smile fades. you approaches Arya, who is already snickering, feeding Nymeria scraps beneath the table, poised for another strike.