When she was younger she very much enjoyed the summer snows. They were light and airy. Many times the sun would shine through and Arya could not help but wonder at the beauty of it all. She heard what people said about the North and all the refineries it lacked unlike the Southern areas of Westeros. Yet looking above at the parting clouds and watching the gentle flakes glaze over her home, she knew then no other part of the world could be so beautiful. Tonight however the snow heaped upon the walls of Winterfell with a fury, almost competing with her own temperament at the moment. She didn't quite understand why her emotions were in such turmoil and she was not going to stop and dissect it either. Mayhaps it was better if she did not know the answer. One good thing about this night however was how the winds had subsided. The snow fell mercilessly trapping anything in its path with a sheen of white, but the night was quiet. It made the weather look…soft.
She was trying not to breathe so hard as she made her way down to the eastern gate. Moreover, she needed to focus on her what she was going to say. She was so sure it would come to her as she made her way to him, but her mind was blank. The closer she drew to the hall the less sure she was of herself. There was still time to turn around and go to bed. She could deal with this another time.
"Come to hit him some more have you?"
Beric's voice startled her so that she couldn't keep the small yelp from leaving her body. Beric Dondarrion was hunched over on the ground in front of a door outside of what Arya could surmise was him room. He had a leather pouch attached to his right hand which he he raised to his mouth. Probably ale. "What are you doing out here?" Arya crossed her arms over her chest.
"No one wanted to share a drink with me." He motioned the pouch to her, offering her some, "for courage then?"
"I don't think so."
"Perhaps you are here to hit me next then hm? I don't remember even being acknowledged earlier today."
"Well as I remember, I don't think we parted as friends."
"Come on now then girl, not even a little happy to see me?"
Arya smiled a little, "I'm glad you are not dead Beric. Also, I'm grateful for what you have done with my brother."
"Alright, I'll take it. Well I am certainly glad to see you alive and well lady Arya…or I guess I should say princess?" He grinned at her amused at his own teases.
"Don't you start. Where's the rest of your lot then? The Brotherhood and Thoros?"
Arya saw the way Beric deflated further into the ground at the mention of Thoros of Myr. "He died beyond the wall."
"I'm sorry to hear that." She truly was. To her Thoros had always been an odd man, yet one of the easier ones to be around. He had a mischievous manner about him that had calmed Arya back then. Made her feel like all the seriousness around her got slightly lighter. It was a nice feeling.
"Yes well, what's done is done. Come now, I know you ain't here to speak to an old man like me. He's in there." He motioned to the door as he attempted to stand. Arya had to hold his right arm and heave him up a little. Once fully standing he swung the door open violently causing it to crash to the stone wall.
"Visitor!" Beric announced with a glint in his eye.
Arya walked in the room and watched as Gendry shuffled out of bed once he got a sight of her.
"I'll just…take a walk around the grounds. Night then princess." Beric winked at her as he glided out of the room and shut the door. Arya rolled her eyes.
They stood there for a moment. Silent. Both of them looking anywhere but each other. Gendry scratched the back of his head and began to fidget with the end of his sleeves. Arya only watched stoically taking comfort in the fact that he too was unsure about how to proceed.
"Arya" he whispered her it, just like he had done in the courtyard.
Again silence.
"Are you-"
"How are-"
They both began then halted to let the other speak. Instead more deafening silence took place. Arya let out a breath and spoke again, "Is the room to your liking?"
"Yes of course."
"That's good to hear." Damn this. Sansa was the courteous one, the gentle conversationalist. She had no clue how else to go on.
Gendry smiled at her then, his blue eyes glinting among the light of the fire. "I am happy you made it home my lady."
"Don't call me that. But thanks." She smiled timidly so, "sorry about…hitting you earlier."
"Barely felt it to be honest." Gendry chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.
Arya chuckled nervously too, "yes well, either way that is no way to greet an old friend."
"Gods Arya, I thought you were dead, for the longest time."
"Funny. I thought the same. I mean the red woman took you, they bound you, it only made sense. Why did you think I was dead?"
"When I left Dragon Stone, I went back to Fleabottom. I would hear the people talk about the war and the great houses. About what happened to your brother and mother…" he saw her visibly flinch, "Then there was news that the Boltons owned Winterfell and that house Stark was gone."
"I guess they were wrong," she whispered.
"And I am happier for it."
She glanced around his room, avoiding his gaze. It was small but cozy she thought. There was a small hearth in the corner, slowly dimming to embers but it kept the room warm enough to sustain a person or two. Beric's bed had its covers disheveled every which way and his belongings carelessly tossed to the floor. Gendry's side of the room was neater. His items were placed on a small wooden table by his bed. Then Arya saw it, a hammer resting on the edge of his bed. Arya walked closer to the weapon in order to inspect it, she felt Gendry's eyes follow her as she did so. He did not say anything, he just watched. The base of the tool was the color of rust, but finely smoothed. The metal was impeccably wrought. The surface was sleek but its edges sharp and intimidating. No doubt he had made this himself. He put a lot of work into it, she could tell. She moved closer to touch it but her hands stopped when she spotted the design carved up into the base of the hammer. A proud stag with lithe horns graced the metal surface. They reached the top of the weapon, their points long and whetted. The stag looked mighty but dangerous. The sight of it was making Arya queasy. She turned that feeling into irritation when she faced him, "So you're running around calling yourself a Baratheon now?"
"I'm not calling myself anything, I'm just telling the truth." Unlike her his voice was softer, almost unsure.
"You are Gendry. What does it matter? Baratheon? Waters?-"
This time his voice rose, "it matters because!..." He closed his eyes for a moment obviously trying to reign in his temper.
Arya waited for him to continue, but he did not. "We are in a war Gendry"
"Yes I am very well aware of that. I saw what was coming for us. For all of us."
"You stupid bull headed boy. That's not all of it. Can't you see how dangerous it is to spewing out your blood ties."
"I don't understand," he began but Arya cut him off.
"The Dragon Queen is coming to Winterfell with Jon. King Robert killed her brother, and took her father's throne. Can you not comprehend what sort of consequences wait for you if she hears the truth?"
"I've met her only briefly, though I doubt it matters where I came from, there is a bigger war to think about. Gods why is this bothering you so much."
"Why does it matter to you so much. Robert Baratheon was a drunk and a scoundrel. Who cares if you have his blood. You're still only his bas-" She stopped talking but it was too late, she could see the hurt flash in Gendry's eyes.
"His what?"
When she remained quiet he walked up to her slowly, making Arya take an involuntary step back. "His what?"
Arya didn't speak.
"If there nothing else milady needed then, I'm off to bed."
"Gendry I…"
"Sweet dreams princess." With that he began peel back the covers of his bed and shed layers of his clothing. Not knowing what else to say Arya made her way out of the room, not before slamming his door shit as loud as she could.
She wasn't sure what she had envisioned the outcome of their conversation to be but it was not what had transpired. She had not meant it the way he thought. She was only trying to tell him—well she wasn't quite sure what she was trying to say, but intentionally wounding his pride was not what she wanted. How could he make him understand?
Making her way back to her rooms Arya was completely lost in thought that she forgot about the couple of steps hidden around the corner. She stumbled, but instead of falling to the floor she felt two hands steady her posture. Looking up to thank the person she froze when she saw Petyr Baelish smirking down at her.
"Be careful young Arya, these halls are not lit very well." His hands lingered on her shoulder and Arya shifted to release his hold.
They stared at each other for a moment and Arya's resolve about the man finally gave way. She hated him. He did not belong here in Winterfell; this man was a parasite. How difficult would it be to sneak into his chamber one night? She could end it quietly, or better yet she could make him suffer. Baelish began to smile at her, the more his lips widened the more Arya wanted o scramble away from him. Was that a smile or a sneer?
"What is it?" She couldn't hide her annoyance at the man.
"Pardon me my lady, but just now under the light you very much resembled your late aunt. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you?"
They had. When she was younger she remembered others comparing her nature to the aunt she never met. Sometimes her appearance as well like her hair, her eyes. Arya could never make sense of it. She was Arya horse face and well Lyanna Stark was known to be a great northern beauty.
"I cannot recall," she answered him, face masked in indifference.
"Well you do, I can only assume as you grow older so will the resemblance. She was quite fetching your aunt, even had Robert Baratheon wrapped around her fingers. What a tragedy that was for us all."
Fed up with his manner Arya moved around him, "if there is nothing else then I will retire to my chambers."
"Very well then my lady, sweet dreams."
The sensation Arya felt when he heard those words made her shiver in disgust. It was not at all what she had felt when Gendry uttered those words. She was sad then, but also made her stomach ache? Maybe the right word was flutter? Gendry was angry at her, but his tone had been gentle when he said that to her. Baelish's tone was light and one could even say kind. Yet Arya could see beyond his façade. He was laughing at her about something. She was not sure yet, but she would find out.
***END NOTES***
So yes, Baelish is still alive, the events from the show have not not happened yet since you know the arrival of Gendry and what not. But have no fear Baelish will have his comeuppance soon enough!
Once again thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully I can update soon!