dear_mun | book!Petyr for your antagonistic pleasure.

Lord Baelish, I'm afraid what is sensible does not appeal to them.

A true pity. They might learn from temperance and a fortuitous occasion of rationality.

[Alas, ills are cast aside at the genuine pleasure of the arrival.]

At least I have the pleasure of your companionship to thank them for.

What is fortuitous for them is not rationality; no matter how brief. Rather they wish to gain amusement from our discomfort.

(She is a bird with a broken wing - and a broken heart - but he has enough charm to make her smile tentatively.)

Perhaps the pleasure is mine. I have not seen someone from home in a very long time.

[Clearly, she's been practicing her speech and comprehension of the Game. His face takes a genuinely proud look.]

I regret that I am certainly not your first choice. All the same, we make the best of what we are given. I cannot make up for the loss of your brothers, but I can provide sincere and cheerful company.

[Sincere, indeed. Cheerful, as a display, with effort. This is all assuming that in this strange reality, her brothers are not alive and waiting to toss him in chains. Or worse.]

(It helps that she has resided in three different games - each of which has helped her recover from what the Lannisters did to her. And, in one of them currently, she is focusing on defending herself mentally and physically against any similar attacks. Being a victim is a tiring task and there is a wolf in her yet.)

My brothers have nothing left to fear. (Except for Jon if the Wall and its horrors haven't claimed his life too.) We are the ones that must keep ourselves alive.

[Hopefully he succeeds in looking impressed, rather than condescending. It should alarm him how often his expressions and the feelings which cause them are sincere, at Sansa's behest.

At first, it was easy to brush off, sufficing to say it was her visual similarity to her mother that caused such effect. But time spent had revealed a similar but distinctly unique personality which, in truth, harbored the strength of the wolf which, in truth, he might admire.] How you've matured. I find that 'little bird' no longer seems suitable.

(Finding anything genuine in Westeros is a feat of blind faith that she can no longer afford. Anyone from her world is scrutinized and watched, though, despite his tricks, she can give him at least credit for telling her partial truths.

Even if his motivations are seated in his love for her mother, why can't she benefit from it? She has been given little enough kindness since she left Winterfell so many years before.)

Birds can escape lions, but I don't want to spend my life running.

[Maybe this time he can correct some past regrets and mistakes in her regard. It is not so much guilt as a desire to redo, since the opportunity has been provided. The past cannot be undone, but new paths can be forged.

~~At least he didn't do the dreadful things to her his tv incarnation did :/~~ He has no idea what additional horrors Sansa has experienced in her 'adventures' absent him.]

Nor should you. You deserve a great many things, sweet girl, but the world will never be kind enough to give them to you. Perhaps, with this opportunity, I can be of some assistance if you are attempting some semblance of stability?

(She doesn't hold a grudge - not against him at any rate. Her anger is directed where it should be, but she is beginning to see that those who use malicious - and cruel - means to rise to power are often sacrifices of their own ambition.)

You owe me nothing. (There is a quieter, softer note to her voice.) I should like to see us both happy. Life hasn't gone the way we dreamt it would, has it.

I have come to wish those romantic tales you once held dear were closer to truth.

I do owe you what I had promised you. You were to be happy. I can see I have hardly succeeded in giving you that.

[They are likely both skeptical that happiness is possible. Especially considering the circumstances. Though, he had to wonder, what exactly were those circumstances? How much was simply creations of their own, based on the disappointment or horror of past experiences, and the undesirable atmosphere in which they had been captive?]

As do I. Life would be far more simple if it took after tales. (And there would be widespread happiness, which seems to go against all that Westeros stands for.)

I do not think that was wholly your fault. Circumstances have been unkind and unforgiving since I was first engaged to Joffrey.

(It is probably a mix. Her experience in games has been mostly positive. She has improved her sewing, gained confidence and had time to reflect on her mistakes instead of living in fear and fatigue.)

I think I could find happiness of some sort in time...away from Westeros.

It is good to hear an underlying tone of optimism, in spite of all you have been through. In order to attain happiness, one must have desires in mind. A risk, when desire seems to bring pain and disappointment. You would be brave, indeed, to consider the reward worth the risk.

[Admitting what he wants isn't even an option anymore, really. He's been focused on material and power-centered acquisitions, but removed from home, he finds his heart aches again. It quietly alarming, for a man rigidly obsessed with his control of self.]

The simpler your desires, the more likely you will succeed. (Thus she is taking everything a step at a time, moving at a pace that is comfortable and measured. The only time she felt somewhat rushed - or pushed - was when her father was injured in one game. That had led to her approaching those she never would and she had found far more bravery in herself than she had ever imagined.)

Peace is an admirable goal.

It is.

[It should be telling to his state of mind, so influenced by his internal state of affairs, that he is speaking less, and listening more.

He does, however, lose out on stopping there.] I do not think I am known as a man of simple desires. I seem plagued with the curse of wanting everything. The things that I want most... They are the height of complication, without being added to the rest.

Baelish. What seems to be bothering you?

[A male Stark. Narrowly hiding a frown.]

The inability to discern my future location, and its implications on my agenda, of course. Interesting to see you here, Lord Stark. Are you being sent off into unknown territory without time to prepare as well?

[He's watching you, Baelish.]

I'm already in a game if that's what you're asking. Myself and my daughter, Sansa, are in a game called Ruby City. [He doesn't really want you there though. Sorry, Petyr. You used to fancy his wife and do horrible things to his daughter in his future.]

...Petyr? Is that you?

...Cat? I thought...

[Imagine that. Baelish, at a loss for words.]

Thought what? [What's that expression for?] You seem... [She looks closer, head tilted.] ...older? But how would that be possible?

You were murdered, by the Freys. Yet here you stand before me. [An attempt to mask bewilderment.]

I suppose anything is possible, out of time.

The Freys? Why would they murder me? I have no qualms against them. [Not yet. She smiles a little, trying to lighten the tension.] Are you fibbing?

[Did someone put something in his wine? His face grows serious.]

Would I ever lie to you, Cat? Tell me... If you are not a ghost, how is it you've become so young?

No. [Her answer is swift. She trusts he would never lie to her.] I'm solid enough. You can feel for yourself.

[An arm is held out, her concern growing by the second.] I have only lived for so long. I need to time to gain age!

[With a brief moment of hesitation - not sure he wants the illusion to pass, for it surely must be - he lightly takes her hand. Astonished at its solidity, he places the back of her palm on his face, closing his eyes.]

You are very much alive, indeed. Though only the Gods know how.

[He is treating her as if he is in mourning. Has he truly experienced her death? She catalogues the information away to mull over and investigate later. Catelyn's mind is always working, untangling puzzles so that she can protect herself and her family best.

Petyr is part of her family. She needs to protect him from losing her.]

I believe you, but it's... [Shaking her head, she steps closer and embraces him, her hand remaining on his cheek.] I don't like seeing you sad.

[Why did he feel guilty? Was this scenario not something he had played over and over again in his mind? It wasn't really going back and changing the past, but he was reunited with Catelyn before others had taken her from him. From marriage and familial duty to her wrongful death.

He wondered about how old she was. Judging by appearance, she should at least be engaged. The question was, did she remember him already making a fool of himself? Had she been married to Ned now? Did any of it matter? He could feel her.]

It doesn't matter now. You're here. Forgive my age, it seems I am come to you from much later in our lives. [His voice is soft, and he is content to return the embrace and wish it to remain just so.]

I hope it does not bother you, sweet Catelyn.

[She is indeed engaged but not yet married. Her engagement with Brandon occurred when she was only twelve and his death happened soon after. Eddard has been kind enough to wait for her to grieve and be ready. They are both young and as long as they are promised to one another, the wedding need not happen for a year or so yet.]

I am here. You know I do not lie to you. [Her fingertips brush against the lighter strands in his hair.] Why are you apologizing? I think you are very handsome.

And if I am meant to perish by the time you are this age, I'm glad we could meet again this way. [There are so many precious memories between them. She wants to hear all about his life and his accomplishments.]

[He is suddenly overwhelmed again, between the touch, the words, her life, and youth, and the proximity -- he blushes, the rush of all his boyhood feelings fighting to control all train of though.

It is absurd, really, despite time, distance, death, and all he has been through, that something like emotions can return so strongly. He cannot repress a blush anymore than fish could breath on land.]

I...you should not say such things, though I am flattered. You are promised to another. [He begrudgingly learned his lesson the first time, though he never stopped wanting.]

[She is aware of his fondness for her, yet she has no idea how deeply it runs. Her love for him is the steady emotion she holds for her blood relations. His happiness matters to her and she will always make time for him if he feels - and shows - sorrow. A big sister can do no less.]

Why not? I'm only telling the truth. [A laugh bubbles up before she can stop it and she pulls back.] Ned is not weak enough to look askance at me complimenting you. He knows you are a soft spot for me.

[How strange... Was it possible she did not remember, his reckless challenge for her hand, when he heard she was engaged to Brandon Stark? How he had stood no chance, earning his lifelong scar, his life only spared at her behest.

He was hesitant to bring up a Stark.] I know how you have always felt. I have lived in regret that it was never the same as I do.

[Do, still, not did. And no, he really is not above slight emotional manipulation. It was the truth. One he was very tired of altering.]

[She doesn't want to remind him. They had been young - younger than now - and perhaps Petyr had been more concerned about losing her friendship than romance. Catelyn isn't entirely sure and she feels the price he paid was too high, though she doesn't blame Brandon. Duels are bloody affairs.]

...is it still...? [Her voice is quiet, hesitant and she looks down, frowning.] I had hoped you would find a beautiful wife that made you forget all about me.

[Honesty happens before he knows what he is saying. He will always find it frightening how quickly he loses his control and power over his words around Catelyn, and to a degree, Sansa.]

How could anyone ever compare to you, dearest Catelyn? The only woman in all of Westeros I have ever encountered who could be said to equal your beauty, is a daughter in your future.

[The 'used to' would still be present tense, were she alive. And as for Sansa, book Petyr is the only person who might rival Ned's feelings on what his television counterpart does to the girl he harbors legitimate affection for. ]

I trust you are happier there than you were in King's Landing?

[A flush of color covers her cheeks. Despite all her bravery and control, she is affected by his sweet words. She knows they are genuine and her heart aches that she can't return his feelings.]

A daughter? [It's an easier train to follow and she manages a hopeful smile.] What is she like?

[He sighs, creating some distance between them, but indulging her question. He cannot simply run from this, though it seems it is more detrimental than anything else. It would not be fair to Cat, however. So he speaks, swallowing the hope he though he had crushed long ago.]

She looks just like you, ever the Tully. The wolf in her is quiet, a sort of inner strength. The girl has resilience unlike any I have ever seen. Many have likened her to a bird. Light, musical, fair, graceful. I admire her, though I do not think she knows it.

In our time together, she has come to know many disappointments, and great sorrow. She has risen above her sufferings, though... She seems to be picking up a few of my traits as well, though, of course, Ned is her true father.

[She hides a wince. The tension between them is palpable and she has no idea how to soothe it. She clasps her hands before her, forcing herself to focus on this future daughter.]

She sounds like the perfect daughter. [Someone she can dote on and dress up. Catelyn has longed for such a child - besides the sons Ned will likely want.]

Are her disappointments and sorrows due to the Freys? [She wonders if her memory will travel with her back to Westeros. If so, perhaps the Freys should be watched. Closely.]

She has the blood of a Tully and Stark as well as the guidance of a Baelish! Of course she overcomes her woes.

Yes... [At least, he hopes so. For her sake and his own. Neither of them can afford to fail now. They are far too deep in the game of thrones.

He cannot possibly burden her with all of the news of how dreadful her future and her children's are. Hopefully, she will not inquire further.

He cannot feign anything other than melancholy either. There would be no hard feelings if she found some reason to dismiss herself. Still, there is at least an apology owed.] I'm sorry, Cat. I have failed you in more than one regard.

I do not see how. You cannot control everything. [Or even most things. Life happens; death happens and sorrows happen too. Unless he is at the center of her sorrows, she has no reason to be angry with him.]

I was nearly widowed; something I would have never expected. You... [She swallows and touches his chest, over his scar.] ...suffered for my sake too. I think you are too hard on yourself.

Aye, I am. I couldn't stand that place, not really. Too much politics and a man couldn't think straight. [Not when there were eyes and ears everywhere. Damn Varys and his network of spiders.]

No man can possess everything. (There is a certain hollowness to her eyes, the Tully blue darkened by ghosts. She has more ghosts than she can count and she has not seen her second decade of life. What awaits her then if she does not learn to overcome; if she does not develop an iron fortress around her mind, body and soul?)

I would not like to see the one who will be called my sire by some fall like so many others.

book!Petyr for your antagonistic pleasure.

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i'm sorry. i have like 3 icons atm.

phfft you're lovely. <3

shuffles feet

/hugs and keeps

like a bird in a cage?

never ever.

i feel like i am babbling i just have so many feelings ;-;

I love it.

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please forgive show icons while i search for a pb

there's nothing to forgive!

^_^

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;-;

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