Arya Stark
The Eyrie itself was a small castle with seven towers, where everyone was always in plain sight of one another. She had tried to slip away several times, but each time the guards stopped her at the gates, and afterward Lysa Arryn punished her by locking her in her room for a week.
Escape had failed, and dealing with her aunt was unpleasant—painful, even. Lysa Arryn was hysterical, vain, and utterly obsessed with her son. A couple of times, watching her antics, Arya had laughed at the wrong moment, and since then her presence had been barely tolerated.
Their final falling-out came when Arya reduced Robert Arryn—whom everyone called Sweetrobin behind his back—to tears.
That day, she had been practicing in one of the castle corridors, going over the movements Syrio Forel had taught her. She was in the middle of a water dancer's stance when Sweetrobin suddenly appeared around the corner, accompanied by one of the local knights.
He stared at her for a full minute, his mouth hanging open in a ridiculous way. Then his face twisted as if in pain, and in a thin, piping voice he squeaked:
"A lady shouldn't be doing such things. My mother says you're a rebel and will bring ruin upon all of us."
"Don't tell me what a lady should do. Better wipe your nose and go play with your toys."
After those words, Robert burst into tears. He was her cousin, but she felt neither affection nor sympathy for him. More than that—she despised such a relative. It wasn't the first time he had tried to lecture her; once he had nearly taken Needle from her. But this time he had pushed her too far, and she didn't bother holding back.
Robert ran off sobbing. Lysa Arryn stormed into Arya's room just minutes later.
"You ungrateful, foolish girl! Catelyn never taught you anything. You disgrace our family!" she shrieked and wailed, and at one point—when she remembered Robert—she nearly struck Arya across the face.
After that, Arya was completely forbidden from leaving her room, and guards were posted at her door. She didn't know how it might have ended, but Petyr Baelish arrived at the Eyrie unexpectedly.
It seemed he spoke with Lysa, and Arya was once again allowed to attend the common meals. She immediately understood that whenever Littlefinger looked at her, he was considering some kind of plan. He reminded her of an archer who had spotted prey, drawn the bowstring taut, and taken aim. It was the same look she had seen in Anguy, the archer from the Brotherhood Without Banners, who had once shown her a few tricks.
Baelish spoke with her several times, but Arya usually kept silent. She hadn't trusted him in the capital, and she didn't trust him now. Besides, he had most likely betrayed her father. At one point, she had even considered adding his name to her list.
The Brotherhood Without Banners arrived at the castle. She was not glad to see them. All of them were traitors—all except one. Only Edric Dayne was worth anything, perhaps.
Along with them came her great-uncle Brynden Tully, whom everyone called the Blackfish.
This stern and taciturn old man immediately earned her respect. For the first time in a long while, she felt there were people she could trust. Edric Dayne and Brynden Tully—just two names in the whole wide world.
Then the war began, and Littlefinger was declared an outlaw. King Joffrey demanded he be handed over, but Lysa Arryn refused and called her banners. Watching all this, Arya quietly rejoiced. She was more than satisfied to see her enemies tearing each other apart.
Not many people spoke with her, but after spending so long in the Eyrie, she had gotten to know some of them better, and they had told her a few things.
At first, the Vale and its allies had done quite well. According to rumors, they had nearly captured Joffrey himself—and the Kingslayer.
Then, after some time, everything changed…
The days passed one after another—monotonous and bleak. Arya could practically feel herself being bound here, as though by chains. The cold drafts that constantly swept down from the mountains were nothing like the familiar, if still cold, winds of Winterfell.
The Hound spoke to her a few times, but those conversations brought no pleasure to either of them. He drank heavily, picked fights with the local knights, and had even managed to spill someone's blood. Strangely enough, his antics were tolerated.
The only thing that eased her boredom was sparring with Dayne. Before that, she had thought herself quicker, cleverer, and sharper than most people. But Dayne had surprised her—and put her in her place. He didn't know all the subtleties of the style Syrio had taught her, but he fought like a true western knight—strong, calm, and highly skilled.
And he never boasted.
The forces of Joffrey and Randyll Tarly pressed the Vale from two sides. The Brotherhood Without Banners was sent to the Gates of the Moon. Once again, she was left alone—and bored.
She noticed how poorly Littlefinger had begun to look, how often he fell into thought, how quiet he had become. He was clearly planning something—preparing for something.
One evening, Arya managed to overhear a conversation between the Kettleblack brothers. They were discussing something—she couldn't get too close—but the knights were drunk, and Arya managed to catch a few words. Nothing serious, really… but if you thought about it…
She had plenty of time. She thought it over and came to the conclusion that Littlefinger intended to flee from the Gates of the Moon.
That option did not suit her.
(End of Chapter)
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