Does Arya Stark Stay Blind Novels & Stories

I wasn’t taking any chances. “I’m blind, dear. I can’t see whatever it is you are trying to hide, and heavens be damned if you think I will let you out of my sight for a split second. If you have every intention to take a shower, you better get to it right now,” I replied, and Vesta sighed in defeat.

The kind of voice that had never needed to be loud to make people listen. I took a breath and walked inside. He was sitting behind a large desk. Dark hair. Strong jaw. Exactly as unforgiving as the photographs had suggested. And his eyes— Pale grey. Almost silver. They were pointed somewhere just past my shoulder. Not at me. Through me. For a second, I didn’t understand. Then I remembered. He couldn’t see me. I’d read about the accident. I’d known he was blind. But knowing something on a screen and standing three feet away from the person it had happened to were two completely different things.

"Can I take off this blindfold, please?" "Yes, you can," Shadrach nodded, taking the blindfold off. Wynter adjusted her eyes to the brightness. Slowly, she removed the blindfold, and her eyes widened in awe. She was right; they were in a garden, but not the one everyone could expect. The indoor garden was a magical oasis. Strings of fairy lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden hue over the lush greenery. Each plant seemed to shimmer under the light, their leaves glistening like jewels.

Killian fades in and out for hours. Every second his eyes are closed is agony. But when he's awake, he's barely lucid, which is somehow worse. I hate seeing him like this. Weak, dependent, teetering between consciousness and oblivion. Wavering, shuddering breaths ease from his dry, cracked lips and I want to burn the world to ash. Arya is unusually silent. I admit: her silence is more frightening than her rage.

An IV was connected to his right hand, and a bandage was wrapped around his eyes. I’d done this to him, but I still didn’t feel satisfied. I tightened my grip on the dagger in my hand, moving closer to the bed. “Arya?” He suddenly croaked, and I froze. He swallowed hard, his brows deeply furrowed. “Arya? Is that you?” He couldn’t see me, his eyes were covered after all. This was perfect. A perfect chance to finish what I’d started. Steeling my resolve, I attacked in one swoop, stabbing him in the stomach. He grunted in pain, grabbing my wrist to prevent me from yanking the knife out.

Cedric unexpectedly chased after me and helped rebandage the wound on my arm. "Nicole, your eyes are fine, right? Can you stop being so upset now?" he said gently. "As long as your eyes are still okay, it's not a big deal, right? The doctor said it wouldn't have much of an impact. I just can't bear to see you become blind. Celine had constantly told me how painful a blind person's world was, and I was really starting to lose patience with it."

July seemed enthusiastic about the idea. "Huh?" Really, Argus looks stupid with his current expression. "What do you mean by blind marriage? Will the guests wear blindfolds like a masquerade party or something similar? Or will the entire wedding hall be pitch black?" Whether the thought of a new idea for a marriage concept is too good or her mental health was depressed due to the pressure of the situation, Argus was dubious for a moment.

"Please, George...can I talk to him? I need to know why he did this to me." My laughter was harsh. How could she think of him even in this situation? "Talk to him? Are you kidding me? Luca's gone, Willow. Forever. And even if he wasn't, what would be the point? He's made it clear how little you mean to him." Willow's face tore from in anguish. "And my eyesight? Can I get it back? Please, George, tell me there's a way..." My voice was cold. "No, Willow. There's no way. You're blind now. And it's all because of your stupidity."

He was so handsome. She noticed his furrowed brows—it didn’t suit him. So she reached out to smooth them. His eyes snapped open. Red. Completely red. He glared at her, an oppressive aura bursting from him. But Arya wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “Where are you taking me?” she asked. “To kill you,” he replied coldly. Arya’s heart jumped. She frowned. “You’re scaring me.” A dark smirk appeared on his lips. “Then get off.”

Wilder stood in Arya’s room, her breaths slow and easy. She was beautiful, but always out of his reach. When Saint said they were at a Warriors bar, he’d nearly lost his head. Bikers. Leather. Bikes. Arya. He would slaughter them all if they touched her. This was the only way he could keep calm. He knew he was obsessed with her and he knew he shouldn’t be in her room watching her sleep like some fucking stalker. She deserved better.