wolfkissed| petyr baelish (littlefinger)

Twenty-Five

Lord Baelish fondly stared at the sleeping shewolf. Her lips puckered in her sleep as her mothers did. Her hands still held the pages she was reading.

He lent over the sleeping girl, his chest slight grazing the back of her auburn hair. He was curious as to what words she was in-taking to which would result in such dedication.

She slightly tussled in her sleep at the the light graze of pressure.

His eyebrow rose as he read the northern legend.

          And thus the world was covered in snow. A winter longer than any Westeros had ever seen in its first years. The Others came, craving vengeance against the summer dwellers. They were Westeros own magic, not like the Targaryens bore of Essosi legend who came and conquered us.——-

.......

       ——-These beings could withstand the cold unlike any creature. They were immortal and one with the night. The knowledge of how they disappeared so long ago died along with them.

He furrowed his brow as he smelt the hint of the wine the girl had been drinking. Dornish Red was her favored beverage which impressed the pepper haired man.

He stood back as the girl groaned, sitting up and wiping drool from her lips. She gasped as she noticed the man's presence behind her.

"Lord Baelish." She quickly stood to her feet curtsying politely.

He smiled at the flustered girl. How she amused him.

"Reminiscing of home I take it?" He asked, his slender eyebrow raising.

"Yes, the legends always used to amuse me growing up. Old Nan, who took care of us all, she often told us warped versions of these stories. Her mind isn't entirely there, her grandsons either." Jale looked to the dark door way behind him. It would be horrible for her reputation to be seen alone with a man.

Lord Baelish sat down at the library desk, motioning for Jale to sit down.

She looked wearily as Lord Baelish made himself comfortable in her presence. He sighed, taking her half empty chalice and drinking the Dornish Red.

"Did your mother ever tell you how her and I came to meet, Lady Jaleryd?" He asked as he moved Jales books, as she had made it so clustered he could barely lay his hands upon the table.

Jale reddened in embarrassment as he tidied her mess like a father did a child's.

"No, my Lord. She rarely spoke on your name as it brought out feelings in my father."

Lord Baelish scoffed while smirking, Jale's lips falling in a downward motion.

"My family was not of great means as your mothers maiden house or your fathers. The names Tully and Stark strike admiration or hatred, loving for protective noblesse or hatred for bastardly plotting. It all depends on who you ask. But if you ask someone of the name Baelish, they ask you who?"

Lord Baelish laughed lightly as he ran his finger along the edge of the goblet. He looked into Jales eyes, a bittersweet look in his eye.

"My grandfather was a knight, not a very good or rich one. He came into possession of a single small stone tower. It was cold, small, and moldy. A commoners hut was better shelter from storms."

He held back the disgust on his face. He despised that lonesome tower but he did not want to let himself make the wolf uncomfortable. It was already hard enough for him to hold back his advances to her, it was an even larger battle to control his tongue.

"That tower sat on the smallest of The Fingers of The Vale. I'm sure you've heard it by now my dear, what they call me. Littlefinger, bestowed upon me by your uncle Edmure. I was a small boy, from a small tower, with a small name. Most do not even know my first name Petyr, only Littlefinger."

Jale frowned at her uncle Edmure. He was a kind man but he loved to pick on those lesser than he. As a child during her visits to Riverrun he often would antagonize her to her mothers displeasure.

Her mother had told her that was how Edmure showed love. He would call you names, steal your things, and antagonize you as a way of showing he cared. He had always been that way, similar to his father.

It was why her mother admire her father so much. Unlike the men she was raised around, Ned Stark was kind and affectionate. A good man with a good heart. House Tully held a good heart but cold hands.

"I was a ward to House Tully, your grandfather. My father had served in the war against the Blackfyre's and had become close with Lord Tully. He wished for me to be able to expand our house, so he accepted me as his ward."

He fondly smiled.

"There I met Catelyn, Lysa and Edmure. I adored your mother the moment I first spoke to her. But her affections were not of the same degree, to her I was but a second brother. When your uncle Brandon had been announced as her betrothed, I stupidly challenged him to a duel to the death. I was willing to fight for your mother with my own blood."

Jale's eyes rose as Lord Baelish told her of his decree. She did not remember her uncle entirely, as she was only three at his and her grandfathers death. But she was told great tales of the wolf-blooded man. He and Lyanna, like Arya, were hot tempered and talented in the art of conflict.

"But your uncle did not have feelings for Catelyn as I did. He simply laughed at the puny little boy and taunted him in the great hall of Riverrun for all to see. I remember the way your mother cried, and your father was the first to console her of my outburst."

Lord Baelish drank again.

"I tell you this Wolfkissed so you and I may further understand one another. You see you and I are very similar. Both of us are known far better by nicknames we despise. You are The Wolfkissed Child of the North, adorned with a scar that takes up half of your face for the world to judge and sneer at. A girl who could end up challenging her own brother for the title of heir to Winterfell. A threat to the tranquility of the North if her people demand her be their Warden."

"I am Littlefinger, a snake from beneath the ground who slithered his way into Riverrun and Kings Landing. A short man with an ambition he just can't control, yet he can barely wield a sword to save his own throat."

Jale watched as he stood once again to his feet, extending his hand to hers. She stood, she flushed in confusion as he took her shoulders in between his palms.

She could smell him, the hint of womens perfumes, the strong spice of a man's cologne and the reminence of fires ash. She could not look in his eyes, she studied the mockingbird broach as she stared in fear.

She was not fearful of her life or if he would take advantage of her. She did not feel he was a danger to her.

She was scared of the touch of a man other than her father or brothers. She was not attracted to Lord Baelish but she knew she would make a fool of herself if she gazed up.

"I want to make up for the wrongs I have committed against your mother. I see parts of myself in you Wolfkissed. A child different than those she's surrounded by, a cecelia in a field orchids. I want to be a guiding hand for you here, a friend in this pit of chaos. If you shall let me."

Jales breath was all the two could hear. He was waiting for a response but she dared not open her lips.

The silence only enraged her nerves further.

"I-I believe I should return to bed. Goodnight Lord Baelish."

Jale pushed herself from the man's chest, sprinting out of the royal library.