Bolton Rising Part 68 - Petyr and Alayne
Two months had passed and still no news had been heard regarding the Bastard of Bolton. All reports indicated Ramsay was seriously injured, but still had escaped alive from Roose Bolton's military compound with the aid of Gregor Clegane, the Mountain. It was only a matter of time when that Bastard would retaliate with cold, calculated cruelty.
Petyr Baelish sighed and pushed the stack of documents in front of him aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose, too lost in thought to give his full attention to such business. Hiding one's personal wealth was always such a tricky matter. Reaching for a glass of wine, the Mockingbird swirled the dark red liquor, inhaling the deep aroma before having a final taste. He set the empty glass down and leaned back in his expensive leather office chair, turning around to stare out the huge paned glass windows over the night skyline.
His city glowed with life and radiance, where before it had been nothing but chaos and disorder. He smirked softly, interlacing his fingers, recalling fond memories. Oh, how he had thrived and risen through the ranks of office and politics in that mess. It had been a bloody affair, but the excitement of every personal victory had been worth it. It was a chess game filled with pieces he moved as he dictated from the shadows without anyone being the wiser.
His grey-green eyes searched the vast, expansive view and settled upon the Eyrie Tower in the distance, away from the sprawling downtown atmosphere. The tall, exquisite penthouse stood out like a beacon, glowing brightly in the darkness, calling him home. Alayne was there, waiting up for him no doubt, despite his earlier phone call home for her not to, but he would not return until morning. Petyr had felt something amiss between them for some time, and avoiding her delayed the confrontation he had no desire to address. He wasn't exactly sure how to begin, but distasteful suspicions creeping into his mind had become a nuisance and a distraction. He was no fool. It was his business to know what people wanted to hide the most.
Baelish rubbed the dull ache in his tightening chest, the burning slash traveling down his body from torso to pelvis. He breathed calmly, letting thoughts of losing Alayne fade away, feeling the pain subside along with his new jealously over the Hound. The way that hired Dog looked upon Alayne had changed, and his Little Bird no longer acted fearful around Sandor Clegane's ominous presence. They shared a secret communication Petyr no longer was included in, and Littlefinger never liked any situation he couldn't control.
After calling for the town car, Petyr put on his designer suit jacket, adjusting his silver cuff links and silk tie before heading downstairs, and walked through the busy nightclub with a cool bravado. Despite his troubled emotions, the Mockingbird still knew appearances were everything. He greeted wealthy customers and shook hands with people of influence, even posing for their self absorbed selfies, which would be online and spread across the globe the second after the flash faded. It was all a wonderful, operatic play with Petyr Baelish as the skilled director, manipulating the strings of these marionettes to do his bidding either now or later. Eventually, Littlefinger would get exactly what he wanted from each and every one of them before discarding his used playthings when they no longer served his purpose.
---
There was a feeling of turmoil within Alayne, which she could not quiet no matter how hard she tried. She stood on the penthouse balcony, looking out across the glittering city lights, her auburn hair blowing gently in the perpetual wind that always surrounded the Eyrie. Despite the stillness of the penthouse, she felt a restlessness that matched that of the persistent wind. She crossed her arms across her chest, as though to control the emotion that threatened to rise within her. Tears welled in her wide blue eyes, but she blinked them away. I will not cry again.
Although the penthouse was as quiet as a tomb, she knew that the Hound sat silent behind her, moving only now and then to raise a glass to his lips. She could feel his presence in the darkened flat, ever watchful, always her protector, he was never far from her side. His possession of her was palpable, she could feel his ownership of her draped around her shoulders like a heavy cloak. In her mind she turned to him and entered the flat, crossing the room to him. In reality she remained still, staring out into the night.
Alayne's eyes were drawn to the tallest building on the city's skyline. Petyr's offices were still brightly lit, and she knew that business continued there until the wee hours of the morning, and beyond. Although the night was not cold, a sudden shiver came over her, and she felt the Mockingbird's keen eyes on her, as though he too, was watching her from only a few feet away. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away. Impossible. He could not see her from this distance any more than she could see him. And yet somehow, she knew he was watching, and that she was in his thoughts. Closing her eyes, Alayne breathed deeply. Come home to me. Please...
---
Petyr made his way out of the packed club slowly as one person after another called out for his attentions. Being a politician of importance and a beloved celebrity could be tiring for some, but the Mockingbird thrived on all the adoration. He smiled pleasantly and stroked egos, easily winning their favor, all the while listening, watching and learning everything he could glean off a person. When you know what a man wants, you know who he is, and how to move him.
Petyr strolled outside with a confident swagger and a satisfied smirk, heading for the car as his security force flanked him. "I see you're as popular as ever, Mr. Baelish," a sultry voice spoke from behind, one he easily recognized before even turning around to gaze upon Margaery Tyrell, the wealthiest heiress in the city. Her influential family was deeply involved in several agricultural companies, and more importantly, was a key contributor to all his political campaigns from the very beginning.
"Well this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Petyr stopped, watching openly as Margaery closed the distance between them, walking with an air of confidence and pure sex. Her exquisite blue evening dress and plunging neckline made several bystanders turn their heads as well and she flaunted her assets even more.
"Are you leaving so soon?" She placed her hand on his arm, pouting softly in a teasing manner. "I was hoping we could have a little chat over a bottle of wine. It's been so long since you've visited Highgarden. I was beginning to think you've forgotten me."
Petyr chuckled, his grey-green eyes vivid in the night. "No one could forget The Queen of high society my dear. You have been quite the talk of the town as of late." Littlefinger raised a curious brow, seeking her confirmation for the rumors he had heard. "Engagement?"
"Yes... to Renly Baratheon," Margaery replied with an air of indifference. "My Father and Grandmother insist upon the match. Old money marrying more old money and all that." She sighed, giving his arm a tender squeeze before letting go to fetch a cigarette from her dainty purse. "He has little interest in me as a woman. Everyone knows he has a secret lover. My family is crazy to expect such a marriage to last with the constant gossiping," she explained, holding the smoke to her inviting red lips while Petyr offered her a light, her brown eyes glistening with pent up tears.
"A marriage of convenience has its merits and you are not without your skills, Margaery. Am I to believe you will be a faithful wife with no fun on the side of your own?" Petyr gave a charming smile in response to the girl's practiced charade, glancing down at his watch. "Though I must say this performance is most impressive. Alas, I have pressing matters to attend to."
"Oh Petyr. You never play along with me! How unchivalrous." Margaery sighed, tossing her cigarette and snuffing out the tip with her high heel, exposing her leg through the high dress slit. "Very well. I will have your club all to myself. I'm not responsible for what happens!" She laughed sweetly, turning and walking away with a swing of her hips, disappearing past the entrance doors.
---
"Stay behind and make sure she doesn't get too wild in there, and then escort her safely home. I don't need the press here over a dead Tyrell," Baelish ordered one of his security men, before climbing into the car and heading home, where he found the penthouse still and quiet as a tomb. He walked towards the master bedroom, business jacket draped over an arm, and loosened his tie, removing the public mask before greeting his love. He found Alayne asleep on his side of the bed, curled around a pillow, the tv light flickering over her. "I'm home, Sweetling," he whispered softly, sitting down and brushing the girl's hair back to kiss her cheek with a minty caress.
Alayne's arms were around Petyr's neck pulling him close as her sleepy blue eyes blinked open, drinking him in. "There you are! I must have drifted off!" She kissed him softly, her lips skimming his smiling ones as she pulled herself out of sleep. "I've been waiting... I know you told me not to wait, but sometimes I just can't help it. I miss you."
Settling back into the pillows, she looked up at her Mockingbird and was overcome by so much love that tears welled up in her eyes, causing them to shine an even brighter shade of blue. He was so handsome, she thought, and yet he looked so tired. Petyr worked too hard, she knew, but there was nothing that would stop him. Not even his recent hospitalization had put a damper on his drive to keep his empire moving forward. Nothing she could say would deter him from his endless hours of puppeteering, as he made all the little figures in his game dance like marionettes, doing his bidding. Alayne knew that very few people saw Petyr Baelish without his mask. His famous, knowing smile faded when he was at home with her, and underneath his public mask there was a man who no one else knew.
Reaching up to caress his cheek, she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. She knew that people whispered about their relationship. If only they knew, she thought. Petyr was older than she was, to be sure, and this was a source of great discussion among those who played the game. When Alayne's family had fallen from grace, it was Petyr who had taken her under his proverbial wing, and there were whispers that she, a girl who had nothing, was only using Petyr to help her climb to the top of the ladder. What they didn't know was that Alayne loved Petyr with all of her heart. The mere sight of him filled her with such joy that she felt like she was floating every time he entered the room. When she was in his arms she felt safe. He had, in fact, saved her, when the rest of the world had been content to watch her burn.
Petyr cupped Alayne's cheek, sliding his thumb across her soft skin to wipe a fresh tear away. "You seem to be crying more often lately. At first, I had wondered if perhaps you were pregnant and hormones were to blame. But I think you would have told me such happy news by now, so that can't be the case." He sighed with disappointment, rising from the bed as he slipped off his tie and tossed it into the hamper. "I know something is going on, Alayne. What is it that you are afraid to tell me?" Petyr pressed, returning his full attentions upon Alayne, his grey-green eyes watching and observing the girl's response. "Are you having second thoughts about marrying me after the attack at the hospital?"
Alayne sat up in the big bed, heart pounding, understanding that the moment had come. She had tried so hard to keep her emotions in check ever since that night in the hospital when Sandor Clegane had taken possession of her. It seemed impossible, and yet she did not love Petyr any less than she ever had. But there was no denying her feelings for the Hound. She could not hide from Petyr any longer.
"Petyr, no..." she began, pushing her tousled hair over her shoulder, her wide blue eyes locked with his. "I've never had a second thought regarding my marriage to you. I love you so, you need never doubt that. When you were in the hospital... when I saw you fall... I was so afraid that I was going to lose you." She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, reaching for a way to explain something even she didn't understand. "I always want to be with you, my love. Truly."
Alayne rose and crossed the room, placing a hand on Petyr's chest, needing to touch him. "I'm only afraid that I'll lose you if you know the truth, and I couldn't bear it. I just couldn't!" She gazed up at her man to see his handsome face without a hint of mirth, there was no twinkle in those grey-green eyes; they'd gone cold. "You own my heart, Petyr, but my soul... it's not my own. It belongs to someone else, and I don't know what to do." Alayne could no longer hold back the wave of emotion that had been rising inside her. Sinking to her knees before him, she covered her face with her hands and dissolved into tears.
Petyr Baelish sighed and pushed the stack of documents in front of him aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose, too lost in thought to give his full attention to such business. Hiding one's personal wealth was always such a tricky matter. Reaching for a glass of wine, the Mockingbird swirled the dark red liquor, inhaling the deep aroma before having a final taste. He set the empty glass down and leaned back in his expensive leather office chair, turning around to stare out the huge paned glass windows over the night skyline.
His city glowed with life and radiance, where before it had been nothing but chaos and disorder. He smirked softly, interlacing his fingers, recalling fond memories. Oh, how he had thrived and risen through the ranks of office and politics in that mess. It had been a bloody affair, but the excitement of every personal victory had been worth it. It was a chess game filled with pieces he moved as he dictated from the shadows without anyone being the wiser.
His grey-green eyes searched the vast, expansive view and settled upon the Eyrie Tower in the distance, away from the sprawling downtown atmosphere. The tall, exquisite penthouse stood out like a beacon, glowing brightly in the darkness, calling him home. Alayne was there, waiting up for him no doubt, despite his earlier phone call home for her not to, but he would not return until morning. Petyr had felt something amiss between them for some time, and avoiding her delayed the confrontation he had no desire to address. He wasn't exactly sure how to begin, but distasteful suspicions creeping into his mind had become a nuisance and a distraction. He was no fool. It was his business to know what people wanted to hide the most.
Baelish rubbed the dull ache in his tightening chest, the burning slash traveling down his body from torso to pelvis. He breathed calmly, letting thoughts of losing Alayne fade away, feeling the pain subside along with his new jealously over the Hound. The way that hired Dog looked upon Alayne had changed, and his Little Bird no longer acted fearful around Sandor Clegane's ominous presence. They shared a secret communication Petyr no longer was included in, and Littlefinger never liked any situation he couldn't control.
After calling for the town car, Petyr put on his designer suit jacket, adjusting his silver cuff links and silk tie before heading downstairs, and walked through the busy nightclub with a cool bravado. Despite his troubled emotions, the Mockingbird still knew appearances were everything. He greeted wealthy customers and shook hands with people of influence, even posing for their self absorbed selfies, which would be online and spread across the globe the second after the flash faded. It was all a wonderful, operatic play with Petyr Baelish as the skilled director, manipulating the strings of these marionettes to do his bidding either now or later. Eventually, Littlefinger would get exactly what he wanted from each and every one of them before discarding his used playthings when they no longer served his purpose.
---
There was a feeling of turmoil within Alayne, which she could not quiet no matter how hard she tried. She stood on the penthouse balcony, looking out across the glittering city lights, her auburn hair blowing gently in the perpetual wind that always surrounded the Eyrie. Despite the stillness of the penthouse, she felt a restlessness that matched that of the persistent wind. She crossed her arms across her chest, as though to control the emotion that threatened to rise within her. Tears welled in her wide blue eyes, but she blinked them away. I will not cry again.
Although the penthouse was as quiet as a tomb, she knew that the Hound sat silent behind her, moving only now and then to raise a glass to his lips. She could feel his presence in the darkened flat, ever watchful, always her protector, he was never far from her side. His possession of her was palpable, she could feel his ownership of her draped around her shoulders like a heavy cloak. In her mind she turned to him and entered the flat, crossing the room to him. In reality she remained still, staring out into the night.
Alayne's eyes were drawn to the tallest building on the city's skyline. Petyr's offices were still brightly lit, and she knew that business continued there until the wee hours of the morning, and beyond. Although the night was not cold, a sudden shiver came over her, and she felt the Mockingbird's keen eyes on her, as though he too, was watching her from only a few feet away. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away. Impossible. He could not see her from this distance any more than she could see him. And yet somehow, she knew he was watching, and that she was in his thoughts. Closing her eyes, Alayne breathed deeply. Come home to me. Please...
---
Petyr made his way out of the packed club slowly as one person after another called out for his attentions. Being a politician of importance and a beloved celebrity could be tiring for some, but the Mockingbird thrived on all the adoration. He smiled pleasantly and stroked egos, easily winning their favor, all the while listening, watching and learning everything he could glean off a person. When you know what a man wants, you know who he is, and how to move him.
Petyr strolled outside with a confident swagger and a satisfied smirk, heading for the car as his security force flanked him. "I see you're as popular as ever, Mr. Baelish," a sultry voice spoke from behind, one he easily recognized before even turning around to gaze upon Margaery Tyrell, the wealthiest heiress in the city. Her influential family was deeply involved in several agricultural companies, and more importantly, was a key contributor to all his political campaigns from the very beginning.
"Well this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Petyr stopped, watching openly as Margaery closed the distance between them, walking with an air of confidence and pure sex. Her exquisite blue evening dress and plunging neckline made several bystanders turn their heads as well and she flaunted her assets even more.
"Are you leaving so soon?" She placed her hand on his arm, pouting softly in a teasing manner. "I was hoping we could have a little chat over a bottle of wine. It's been so long since you've visited Highgarden. I was beginning to think you've forgotten me."
Petyr chuckled, his grey-green eyes vivid in the night. "No one could forget The Queen of high society my dear. You have been quite the talk of the town as of late." Littlefinger raised a curious brow, seeking her confirmation for the rumors he had heard. "Engagement?"
"Yes... to Renly Baratheon," Margaery replied with an air of indifference. "My Father and Grandmother insist upon the match. Old money marrying more old money and all that." She sighed, giving his arm a tender squeeze before letting go to fetch a cigarette from her dainty purse. "He has little interest in me as a woman. Everyone knows he has a secret lover. My family is crazy to expect such a marriage to last with the constant gossiping," she explained, holding the smoke to her inviting red lips while Petyr offered her a light, her brown eyes glistening with pent up tears.
"A marriage of convenience has its merits and you are not without your skills, Margaery. Am I to believe you will be a faithful wife with no fun on the side of your own?" Petyr gave a charming smile in response to the girl's practiced charade, glancing down at his watch. "Though I must say this performance is most impressive. Alas, I have pressing matters to attend to."
"Oh Petyr. You never play along with me! How unchivalrous." Margaery sighed, tossing her cigarette and snuffing out the tip with her high heel, exposing her leg through the high dress slit. "Very well. I will have your club all to myself. I'm not responsible for what happens!" She laughed sweetly, turning and walking away with a swing of her hips, disappearing past the entrance doors.
---
"Stay behind and make sure she doesn't get too wild in there, and then escort her safely home. I don't need the press here over a dead Tyrell," Baelish ordered one of his security men, before climbing into the car and heading home, where he found the penthouse still and quiet as a tomb. He walked towards the master bedroom, business jacket draped over an arm, and loosened his tie, removing the public mask before greeting his love. He found Alayne asleep on his side of the bed, curled around a pillow, the tv light flickering over her. "I'm home, Sweetling," he whispered softly, sitting down and brushing the girl's hair back to kiss her cheek with a minty caress.
Alayne's arms were around Petyr's neck pulling him close as her sleepy blue eyes blinked open, drinking him in. "There you are! I must have drifted off!" She kissed him softly, her lips skimming his smiling ones as she pulled herself out of sleep. "I've been waiting... I know you told me not to wait, but sometimes I just can't help it. I miss you."
Settling back into the pillows, she looked up at her Mockingbird and was overcome by so much love that tears welled up in her eyes, causing them to shine an even brighter shade of blue. He was so handsome, she thought, and yet he looked so tired. Petyr worked too hard, she knew, but there was nothing that would stop him. Not even his recent hospitalization had put a damper on his drive to keep his empire moving forward. Nothing she could say would deter him from his endless hours of puppeteering, as he made all the little figures in his game dance like marionettes, doing his bidding. Alayne knew that very few people saw Petyr Baelish without his mask. His famous, knowing smile faded when he was at home with her, and underneath his public mask there was a man who no one else knew.
Reaching up to caress his cheek, she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. She knew that people whispered about their relationship. If only they knew, she thought. Petyr was older than she was, to be sure, and this was a source of great discussion among those who played the game. When Alayne's family had fallen from grace, it was Petyr who had taken her under his proverbial wing, and there were whispers that she, a girl who had nothing, was only using Petyr to help her climb to the top of the ladder. What they didn't know was that Alayne loved Petyr with all of her heart. The mere sight of him filled her with such joy that she felt like she was floating every time he entered the room. When she was in his arms she felt safe. He had, in fact, saved her, when the rest of the world had been content to watch her burn.
Petyr cupped Alayne's cheek, sliding his thumb across her soft skin to wipe a fresh tear away. "You seem to be crying more often lately. At first, I had wondered if perhaps you were pregnant and hormones were to blame. But I think you would have told me such happy news by now, so that can't be the case." He sighed with disappointment, rising from the bed as he slipped off his tie and tossed it into the hamper. "I know something is going on, Alayne. What is it that you are afraid to tell me?" Petyr pressed, returning his full attentions upon Alayne, his grey-green eyes watching and observing the girl's response. "Are you having second thoughts about marrying me after the attack at the hospital?"
Alayne sat up in the big bed, heart pounding, understanding that the moment had come. She had tried so hard to keep her emotions in check ever since that night in the hospital when Sandor Clegane had taken possession of her. It seemed impossible, and yet she did not love Petyr any less than she ever had. But there was no denying her feelings for the Hound. She could not hide from Petyr any longer.
"Petyr, no..." she began, pushing her tousled hair over her shoulder, her wide blue eyes locked with his. "I've never had a second thought regarding my marriage to you. I love you so, you need never doubt that. When you were in the hospital... when I saw you fall... I was so afraid that I was going to lose you." She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, reaching for a way to explain something even she didn't understand. "I always want to be with you, my love. Truly."
Alayne rose and crossed the room, placing a hand on Petyr's chest, needing to touch him. "I'm only afraid that I'll lose you if you know the truth, and I couldn't bear it. I just couldn't!" She gazed up at her man to see his handsome face without a hint of mirth, there was no twinkle in those grey-green eyes; they'd gone cold. "You own my heart, Petyr, but my soul... it's not my own. It belongs to someone else, and I don't know what to do." Alayne could no longer hold back the wave of emotion that had been rising inside her. Sinking to her knees before him, she covered her face with her hands and dissolved into tears.
Great work !Many thanks for going on! :-)
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