My first attempt at writing a snuff story. Not good I know, but would love some feedback still.

Arya of House Stark confidently strode into the great hall, flanked by two soldiers. the dim lights and crackling fire creating an oddly eerie atmosphere. The walls were lined with armed guards, towering over the significantly smaller girl. Not that Arya was worried, even if worst came to worst she was confident in her abilities to protect herself. There was nobody more lethal with a dagger than herself.

Not that there was anything to worry about of course.

Moving without a sound, light on her feet just as the faceless men had taught her, she stepped into the center. Walking quietly was just one of many skills the young assassin now commanded. Others were stealth and acting. Both of which had served her well in uncovering Littlefinger's ploys and schemes.

Littlefinger...Arya had last seen him in Harrenhal conspiring with Tywin Lannister against her brother Robb during the war of the five kings. She knew this man could not be trusted and had secretly shared her views and ideas with Sansa. She had agreed. Littlefinger was a vicious, small, spiteful man who was nothing but a nuisance. So together the Stark sisters had played a little game, tricking and teasing Littlefingers, uncovering his true intentions.

Even this supposed arrest was nothing but a farce, the two sisters keen to prolong their little fun game for as long as they pleased before getting rid of him. The plan was clear, make it appear like Arya was the one being charged before catching Littlefinger unawares and turning the tables on him. Of course, they could arrested him right away instead, but the sisters were intent on giving him as little preparation time as possible. So if he was arrested beforehand he likely might come up with some annoying scheme. No, better catch him by surprise, Arya was looking forward to see his glorious expression once reality dawned on the traitor from the Vale.

Barely able to restrain her gloating, having to try very hard to maintain her facade Arya folded her hands behind her lower back, grey eyes wandering between the flanking soldiers before briefly darting towards Littlefinger standing in the corner, and finally settling on her siblings seated at the high table.

Sansa took a breath, Arya feeling a rush of excitement flooding her as her elder sister took the word. "You stand accused of murder, you stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges...." ohhh, here it was. Wait for it, waiiit~~

A mischievous smile playing over her lips, Arya glanced sidewards at Littlefinger, not wanting to miss even a beat of his reaction. "...Lady Arya."

The words seemed to hover in the air forever, Arya not understanding, blinking in confusion as she stared up at her sister. "The Lady asked you a question." Baelish's slimy voice echoed from the corner as he leaned forward in his mocking manner. Every pair of seemed to stare her down, suffocating her.

"H...huh?" Arya grunted, dumbfounded as she eyed her sister with bewilderment. Of course, their ploy had been to make it appear like she was the one being sentenced, but since they had planned to turn the tables on Littlefinger, Arya was not...prepared for this. Her mind blank, no idea what to say.

Suddenly she heard quick footsteps behind her. She tried to turn, tried to react. But before she could as much as move a muscle, she already felt the kiss of cold steel tracing a fine red line across her throat. Her hands shot to her neck, mouth opening, a dry gargle escaping her lips. Wh...what?

Vaguely she heard Sansa's explanation that a proper trial would have been useless since she could have just run with her faceless woman skills, so they had to trick her into a double trap and act quickly. Distantly Arya also saw her sister getting up and leaving the room without a second glance. What...was happening...??

Uncontrollably dropping to her knees, icy despair got a hold of Arya, the betrayal the most gut wrenching of lowblows. This couldn't....be...

Blood seeped out between her fingers, from her lips. Her body twisted and trembling, darkness descending quickly around the edges of her vision. Somewhere behind her she could hear the distinct ripping of cloth, could feel strong hands wrapping around her waist, something hot and hard menacingly ripping into her ass. A putrid yellow fountain squirted from between her legs, Arya dropping onto her sinewy torso, eyes upturned, glazed and unfocused, rolling into her head. This...couldn't be....she refused to believe this!! She couldn't die, that was preposterous!! What had happened to her sister, to their plan?? Hadn't...hadn't they wanted to build up the Stark house together as one...wha...t...

The last thing she saw was Bran's detached gaze staring her down, the last thing she felt was the thick cock tearing apart her anus while her bladder helplessly expelled, coating the ground with blood and piss, her own. Noise of flesh slapping on flesh echoing through the hall as Arya of House Stark contorted with uncontrollable death throes, raped on the ground in her dieing moments, in her own home.

Thankfully looming darkness engulfed her quickly. By the time the guard was finished and the next one took his place, Arya already was gone, never noticing how all the guards took turns defiling her, stripping her naked and coating her in their seed and piss before dragging her out through the snows to feed to the hounds.