modern au → arya stark as an underground assassin in london
The months merged together, like a long flash of too bright light. When she went to sleep, curling inwards and giving herself over to the dreams, she felt it and when she woke the next morning, it was always to the taste of blood. There was a darkness gathering inside of her and when she held a gun it was closest, consuming her, taking away memories of Winterfell, her father’s voice, her brother’s smile. With a target in mind, it was easy to forget the gnawing in her stomach, to let everything in the world narrow down to a gun and the bullet that she controlled. The names gradually dwindled off of her list, she had a shorter prayer to recite at night, and the dizzy emptiness began to slip away - replaced by something harder, something stronger.