Bolton Rising Part 45 - Petyr & Alayne

Petyr stirred in his sleep, reaching out for Alayne to pull her close, but instead felt nothing but emptiness beside him.  "Sweetling..." He called softly, opening his eyes and shielding them with a hand against the morning light that filtered in through the bedroom curtains. When he got no answer, Baelish arose from the bed and slipped into a warm tunic style robe, then went searching for his Little Bird. He expected to find her hopefully in the shower for a pleasant surprise, or in the kitchen for a delicious breakfast, yet neither yielded his desired results. He grew concerned when he found Alayne's suitcases open, her clothing in disarray and felt a cold breeze stir through the house, and noticed the back door wide open.

"Alayne!" Petyr grabbed his heavy coat off the chair and headed outside, following the girl's tracks in the snow, searching around desperately the further he got away from the house. Where have you gone, beloved? Baelish thought, never expecting anything like this from his Little Bird. He finally sighed in relief when he found her kneeling in the snow, building a castle of all things. "What are you doing, love?" Petyr questioned, seeing the girl so entranced with the building of the detailed structure, tears in her eyes, her gloved hands soaked through from packing the snow. "Alayne..." He reached down and pulled her up, cupping her frozen cheek with his warm hand. "Why are you so upset? Shhh... My sweet snow maiden." Petyr soothed, holding her in his arms, loving the feel of her in his embrace, kissing Alayne's cold lips to warm her.

"I don't know Petyr. I just had to build it... My home." Alayne cried against his chest, weeping for a loss she could not explain.  Baelish stroked his hand through her hair, giving the girl comfort as he looked over her shoulder at the castle again, sensing something familiar too. "Did you have a dream about it?" He asked, holding Alayne's hand as he went to take a tour around the castle, smiling tenderly, letting the name flow from his tongue naturally. "Winterfell..." When he said the name, Alayne squeezed his hand and peered into his eyes in shock. "Yes! Winterfell... But how did you know? What does it mean?" She pressed as Petyr wondered himself. "I don't know Little Bird. It just came to me. That's perplexing..." He mused, stroking his chin and raising a brow at her, teasing Alayne till she smiled.

"Let's go back to the house and get warmed up first, then we can talk about it." Petyr replied, giving Alayne a playful swat on the rear, sending the girl racing off ahead of him, while he strolled behind, just watching how beautiful she was. "Petyr! Hurry up!" Alayne turned and stopped, smiling full of happiness and  letting the sun shine through her red hair like a halo. Baelish stumbled in his step, clutching at his chest as a deep slicing ache assaulted him suddenly from collarbone to groin. His grey-green eyes were transfixed upon Alayne's worried face, seeing a reflection of someone who resembled her greatly, but was not the same. He cried out as the intensity of the pain increased, a violent throbbing that had Petyr gasping for breath, his vision blurring, while hearing a girl screaming his name. Her desperate pleas for mercy rang in his ears as everything faded to black.

"Cat..." Petyr whispered with his final breath, before collapsing in the snow, feeling the life draining from his body.

"Petyr!" Alayne froze in her tracks, shocked, as Petyr sank to the ground. It was as though she were seeing in slow motion. His hand went slowly to his chest, his eyes went dark, staring at her as though haunted, then his face contorted in pain and he fell. Her own heart thudded in her chest as she ran to him, dropping to her knees beside him and clutching his hand in hers. "Petyr... Petyr please, what is it, my love... tell me what's wrong!" she cried as she stared into his handsome face. Absent was the playful smile he usually reserved for her alone, now he was pale, drawn, his grey-green eyes closed. "Oh Gods, no..." Alayne placed her hand on his chest, lowering her head, trying desperately to hear or feel his heartbeat. She could hear nothing but the roaring in her ears, her hands shook too badly to detect a beating heart.

Panic consumed her and she shook him, hard, screaming his name, but he did not respond. Please... this can't be happening... Rising, she flew into the house and found her handbag on the coffee table. Alayne tossed things out onto the couch until she located her iPhone and dialed the emergency number. "I need help... my boyfriend... he collapsed, I think, I don't know... a heart attack? He clutched his chest as he fell... No, he's not conscious... He's thirty-four... I don't know where we are... it was a surprise... Oh please hurry... thank you... Hurry, please!" She dropped the phone and ran back to Petyr.

The waiting seemed endless. I'm all alone... I don't even know where I am... Alayne had never before felt so helpless.Thank goodness for GPS, the emergency operator had been able to dispatch an ambulance even before she'd left the phone. It occurred to her then, that Petyr was lying in the snow and she ran into the house to find blankets. Returning to the garden, she covered her love with several quilts she'd found and knelt beside him. Tears streamed down her face and she clutched his hand tightly. Alayne stroked Petyr's cheek and smoothed his hair back from hie forehead. So beautiful... Oh Gods, I love him... 

The distant wail of a siren sounded in the distance, growing louder. Alayne jumped up and ran through the house, throwing open the front door as the ambulance rounded the corner of the long drive. When two men emerged from the vehicle, she ran to meet them, answering their questions as best as she could, while they quickly removed a stretcher from the back of the van. Their northern accents were strong, and she was reminded how far she was from home. Leading them through the house and out into the garden, she stood anxiously by as they took his vital signs and administered CPR. His heart was beating, faintly. He was still holding on.

She told them his age and that they were on holiday, had only just arrived. When she told them his name, she saw the two men exchange a look of surprise. Petyr was a powerful man, well known throughout the country not only in politics, but as an extremely wealthy and successful businessman. At this moment he did not look powerful, but vulnerable, barely alive, and Alayne was utterly consumed by fear of losing him.

They wheeled the stretcher back to the front of the house, and Alayne scrambled around, grabbing the contents of her handbag and stuffing it all back inside, shoving her phone into her coat pocket, watching as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance. "Ma'am, have you got anyone to drive you?" She shook her head no. Petyr had dismissed the driver when they'd arrived. She didn't know where he'd sent him, or when he would return. "You'd better come with us, then." The man's face was kind and he helped her to climb into the back of the van, closing the doors behind them with a clang. The van began to move, as he started an IV and began to hook Petyr up to various machines. The driver was talking into the radio, calling for a helicopter to meet them, Petyr was to be air lifted from an emergency station, it seemed. It wasn't clear what was the matter, but they could not treat him here.

"Is he your husband, Ma'am?" she shook her head. How can I explain, she wondered. He's the love of my life... "We're not married, yet..." she said softly, never taking her eyes from Petyr's pale face. "Your fiancee? That's good, then." The man nodded as he worked. "Immediate family only, I'd reckon." She was to be his wife, she thought, she was being truthful. She was his only family, except, in some strange way, Sandor Clegane was close to being family. Petyr didn't allow people to get close to him. Although he was rarely alone and had countless associates, the Hound was as close as Petyr had to a friend. I could call him, she thought, He would come to me... No, not me. She shook her head slightly. He would come for Petyr.

The trip was like a whirlwind, and it was excruciatingly slow. The helicopter was there for them when they arrived at the emergency station. The transfer was quick, she ran beside the stretcher, head down, hair whipping in the wind. As the helicopter lifted from the ground, she put on the headset they gave her, feeling dizzy as they rose higher and higher. It seemed forever before she saw forest turn to farmland, farmland to houses, then the houses grew closer together and finally the buildings began to grow taller. She recognized the name of the city, knew it was very far from home. Doctors and medical personnel ran out onto the helipad to meet them as the helicopter touched down, the doors were yanked open and they were running again.

They wheeled Petyr away from her, she tried to follow him, but they would not allow her to go with him. She was taken to a private waiting room and once again she answered what seemed like endless questions. Again, there were looks exchanged upon learning Petyr's identity. A social worker brought her tea, sweet, she'd said, with cream. Hot, sweet tea is best in a crisis, her nurse had told her when she was young. Alayne took a sip and burnt her tongue. She put the paper cup down on a little table and left it to grow cold. "Is there anyone we can call for you, Ms. Stone?" the social worker asked her, looking concerned as Alayne sat in the corner of a small couch, pale and shaking, her knees drawn up to her chest.

"Sandor Clegane..." she answered. Tears flowed freely as she recited numbers she hadn't known that she knew by heart.