A very small Tower on the smallest of the Fingers
Petyr Baelish was currently a very tired young man, for he had arrived just a few hours ago in his humble home and had been in bed for less than three hours when his old Steward had brought him a sealed letter from Lord Arryn, which had just then arrived via a Raven from one of the neighboring larger Keeps. Old Umfred had looked as tired as his young Lord had but he knew his duty as Steward of House Baelish and a letter from the highest Lord of the Vale was not to be ignored for just a few moore hours of sleep.
Lord Petyr had quickly and eagerly opened the seals with his slim fingers, had unfolded the thick sheet of high quality paper and had then started to read with a satisfied grin. This satisfied look though quickly was lost from his face and the old Steward knew then that it was wiser for him to leave his young Lord alone.
Petyr was furious after he had finished reading Lysa 's letter. This stupid woman should have used her position to get him an office and a highstanding position in Gulltown or better even King's Landing and this she had promised him to try to achieve for him in the letters which she had written during the first few years of her marriage. But before he had ever received such good news, this stupid cow suddenly stopped answering his letters over two years ago and now, in this first letter after more than two years, she had written that she had asked her husband to arrange a marriage for him, her good childhood friend Petyr.
And that not enough, he will been given a small but comfortable dowry, something which would of course be useful but he bristled at the wording in the letter, of a few chests filled with high quality woolen cloth and five hundred dragons. All so that he would be seen as a good offering for the ugly Heiress of the damned Paps. And he even had to write a thankful letter to this stupid cow Lyda and her old husband for this unfortunate future.
All he had wanted was a good position to make money, lots of money.
Stupid Lysa, always thinking and doing the wrong things. Damn her. He really had never had the desire to marry anyone but Catelyn at all, certainly not ugly Anna.
Petyr closed his eyes and bit back a few cursing words, he was then gnawing the insides of his cheeks instead out of frustration. Oh how he hated his helplessness in this situation.
He thought back on the last few weeks, on the contacts which he had made with the help of Dunlip Pryor, mother's stupid cousin and heir of Pebble.
Dumb and slowthinking he surely was most of the time but Cousin Dunlip had also shown to be aware of his own flaws and had been all to happy to hire quicker thinking men for his secret businesses. And thus he, Petyr had made a bit money by the side while working for Cousin Dunlip, making a few trips to the Three Sisters for the business connections and all the while helping the future Lord Pryor in manipulating the ledgers of Pebble, so that the Arryns and the Crown would receive as few coins as possible in taxes.
Bless Dunlip's dumb but also refreshingly vain and greedy little heart and head, for he Petyr, had been given nearly free reign over the businesses with the Sistermen and thus he had been allowed to make a good sum for his own pockets for as long as he helped to refill Dunlip's coin caskets every few moons.
And now this comfortable business arrangement was endangered, was most likely to be coming to an end and not for an even better business opportunity but for a lousy marriage.
If only there would be a way around this decision of the Lord Hand, if only the family of the Bride would be against it.
Petyr sighed once more, then crumbled the thick letter to a small ball and tossed it into the small burning fire in the fireplace.
He laid back in his bed and started to think about ways out of this unfortunate situation.