"There are things that drift away like our endless numbered days."
"You must remove this bottle when I am gone."
"Yes, I know, Lord Baelish. We've gone over this many times. I will take the bottle, and position you so it appears natural. I'll leave no trace."
"Yes, well...thank you Maester Ayman. Petyr states tensely, irritated that he is having so much trouble finding the proper wording. He moves his hand to his thigh and feels it shaking uncontrollably. He pushes down hard on his knee forcing it to still, and can feel his nails scratching his flesh through his breeches. Stop being a coward, he thinks ashamed of his trembling in front of the maester. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this scared. Most certainly not since he was a youth. It wasn't death so much, but more the fact of losing his thoughts, his mind. It's the very thing that makes him who he is. His intelligence defines him. If he were to lose it when he awoke, he feared he would never recover.
He would be nothing.
"Lord Baelish?" Ayman clears his throat and speaks softly as he stands over him on the opposite side of Petyr's desk.
Petyr gazes up at him directly and can't recognize the emotion spread across the man's face...
Aah, but yes he can. Pity. It is the unmistakable look of pity. He would know it anywhere even though he hasn't seen it since Cat peered down on him with those marvelous eyes. He knows it because of the fury that swells up in his chest causing his blood to run hot and his fists to clench.
Ayman continues, "I am going to leave for a few minutes and tend to Sansa, my Lord. I will be back in ten minutes. Does that suit you?" He can't tell if the man is choosing to ignore his state or just doesn't care.
"Yes." He hisses. "Things will be..taken care of."
Petyr watches the man leave and waits until he hears the distinct click of the oak door closing tightly behind him. He retrieves the serum from his doublet and holds it up to the light between his forefinger and thumb. He can feel his heart start racing at the sight of the amber liquid, and it feels like every nerve is aflame.
Without a second more thought, Petyr swallows the entire bottle in one gulp. The liquid feels hot on his throat like a strong spirit in one of his brothels. He places the bottle neatly back on his table, and arranges his papers so that it looks like he was in the middle of working. His thoughts becomes more vague by the second, and he relaxes into the back of his chair, his hands going limp at his side. His breathing slows into shallow gasps, and his mind drifts back to his boyhood...
He can hear the water of the Tumblestone and Red Fork Rivers clashing together in a violent rumble and feels coolness in the air that it generates. That's when he realizes he is at Riverrun. He sees the mist as it rises off the water in the early dawn. It is her... standing behind a tree, her auburn hair shining in the pale light of the sunrise. "I can see you!" He calls to her, and is surprised to hear the deep tones of his natural voice. He realizes he is not a child, and holds up his hand to the sun to see it appear as he is now.
"Cat!" He calls out to her, and rushes down the hillside to the tree line. "Cat! It is me, Petyr!" He is close to her now and he can hear her giggle, but she doesn't show herself.
When he reaches the tree where she hides, he steps into a rabbit hole and falls violently to the ground. With a defeated groan he rolls onto his back and basks in the sun, letting its intense, morning glow light up the inner walls of his eyelids, and they match the shade of her hair. He can hear her pad behind him, and he is ashamed of the rosiness that reaches his neck and cheeks.
"Petyr." She says his name lovingly, willing away a giggle brewing in her chest. He realizes now that she isn't a girl at all. She's a young woman, and a tall one at that. Her face is black against the sunlight, but he would know that auburn hair anywhere.
"Cat, why didn't you come out from behind the tree?" He asks as he takes her hand to help himself up.
"Because..." She says. And he can see it now. It causes him to startle in surprise.
"Sansa..." Her name is a whisper on his lips.
"Who else could I be?" She replies, caressing his cheek with her delicate hand. Her eyes bright as the river.