Arya Stark
That night, she slipped into the rookery. A maester's assistant was on duty there—a young man named Mark. Because of his love of food, everyone called him Glutton.
Arya had gotten to know him out of sheer boredom and managed to build something resembling a friendship by feeding him dishes she secretly took from the common table.
The girl managed to persuade Mark to send a letter she had written in advance to Lord Royce.
She didn't know many people in the Vale, but Lord Royce had visited Lysa Arryn at the Eyrie several times. During one of those visits—when Littlefinger was already present—they had been introduced.
As she understood it, the knights of the Vale were not particularly pleased with the war that had begun. Using Arya's name, Petyr Baelish had been trying to present himself as a kind of protector of Lysa Arryn's kin and a man fighting for justice.
"Your father, Lord Eddard Stark, was a remarkable man, and I am proud to have known him, Lady Stark," Bronze Yohn had told her.
They hadn't been allowed to speak privately, but Arya instinctively understood that this was a man she could trust.
And she had no other options.
The raven flew off carrying her letter, in which she warned Lord Royce that Littlefinger and the Kettleblacks were planning to flee.
One morning, the Hound entered her room.
"Dress warmly, little bird. We're leaving," Sandor Clegane rasped.
She didn't know what was happening, but she understood that something had begun.
Arya dressed quickly, knowing she would not be allowed to refuse. She tried to fasten Needle to her belt, but the Hound smirked and took the "toy" from her.
They walked through the corridors, descending toward the gates.
"Where are we going? What's happening?" she asked question after question, none of which anyone intended to answer.
"Shut up, or I'll shut you up," one of the Kettleblacks said. He looked fierce and foul-tempered.
She frowned but fell silent.
A large crowd had gathered before the gates. Lysa Arryn and Petyr Baelish were there. People were wrapped in furs and cloaks, their breath misting in the cold air.
"Take care of yourself, Petyr," Lysa Arryn said, holding his hands for a long time.
"Yes, I'll take care of myself, my love," Littlefinger replied with an almost imperceptible smile. He kissed his wife on the cheek, cast a quick glance at Arya, and turned to his men. "Move out."
The gates of the Eyrie opened.
A long and exhausting descent began. Snow crunched beneath their feet. They passed in sequence through the Sky, Snow, and Stone castles, eventually reaching a small clearing thick with fir and pine. Their party was small—only a handful of people—and Arya found that suspicious.
Where were they going? Why had her aunt allowed Littlefinger to leave the castle? Why had they taken her with them? What was happening?
Several men with horses were waiting there. They mounted and rode eastward, descending lower and lower.
The winding road seemed to lead straight to Gulltown. At one of the crossroads, their small group suddenly turned left, taking some barely noticeable path.
They were expected. About twenty men blocked the road ahead. Behind them, from among the trees, several spearmen appeared, cutting off any retreat.
"What is the meaning of this?" Petyr Baelish spurred his horse forward. "Lord Royce, by what right do you detain the Lord Protector of the Vale?"
"You are no such thing to me," came a calm voice, and Arya Stark felt a surge of relief—her letter had reached its destination. "You have dragged the Vale into an unnecessary war and endangered the lives of my lady and Lord Robert. And now, as I am informed, under the pretense of negotiating with King Joffrey, you have deceived my lady and are preparing to flee, intending to leave the Vale by ship. We know a vessel awaits you at the House of the Hearts. You are under arrest, Lord Baelish."
The next moment, fighting broke out.
At Baelish's signal, the Hound charged, attempting to break through. They had a chance—especially considering the strength and skill of the Hound himself and the Kettleblack brothers.
The clash was fierce, but brief.
The Hound managed to cut down several knights, but he was knocked from his horse and struck multiple times with spears. For some reason, they did not finish him off.
The Kettleblacks, however, were killed.
During the fight, Baelish's horse threw him to the ground. Arya saw Bronze Yohn give a barely noticeable nod to someone, and an armored knight approached Littlefinger.
"Wait—we can come to an agreement," Baelish backed away, but the unknown knight stepped forward, grabbed him by the head, yanked it back, and drew his sword across his throat. Blood poured onto the ground like a torrent, and Baelish's body convulsed.
"Do not worry, Lady Stark. You are in no danger," Lord Royce said as he rode up to her.
She was taken to the Stone castle—though it could hardly be called a castle. It was more like two small towers with a wall and gate blocking the path to the Eyrie.
She spent a day there, waiting for the war to end. She was treated well, and they even returned Needle to her.
Under guard, she was taken to Gulltown and placed in a house. They didn't bind her, but locked her in a secure room with barred windows. She was fed well and even allowed to wash.
One day, King Joffrey came to see her.
The bolt clanked, the key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open on its hinges.
The first to enter her room was an unfamiliar warrior. Then Joffrey, followed by another bodyguard. Arya couldn't help but smirk—Joffrey had grown since she had last seen him, broadened in the shoulders, grown a short beard, and even acquired a thin scar across his face.
But it seemed he still feared her.
She expected either a long conversation filled with threats—or to be killed outright.
Neither happened.
(End of Chapter)
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