DISCLAIMER: I don't own ASOIAF series, its characters, the setting or even the best lines in this fic. All credit goes to George R. R. Martin whose work inspired me to write this story.

I usually update once a week, but since today is my birthday, I am giving a present to you, my very lovely readers! Here's chapter 12 on the 12th!

CHAPTER 12

LITTLEFINGER

"Fucking LANNISTERS!"

A white raven from the citadel had arrived that morning, and now it took flight, startled by Petyr Baelish's outburst. Lothor Brune ducked as the bird dived by his head with an undignified squawk.

Petyr crumpled the letter he was writing in a fist. It seemed that everyone who came into his office today had nothing for him but bad news. First the bird had announced the arrival of winter (like they didn't realize it here at the top of a frozen mountain) and now Brune said that Sandor Clegane had never crossed the Gates of the Moon. Worst of all, Alayne and her horse were missing.

Petyr's mood had been sour since yesterday morning, when Alayne had not even touched the berries he offered her at breakfast. Sometimes he got the impression that she did not appreciate the things he did for her; not arranging her marriage to Ser Harry, and not providing berries during winter. He'd felt like flinging them against the wall; instead, he put a smile on his face and finished his breakfast.

Afterwards, Petyr summoned Lothor Brune. "I have a job for you." Brune was one of the few men Petyr could trust with secret information and silent tasks. He hoped he hadn't waited too long to send him out. "Sandor Clegane left this morning with a new sword and a bag of gold, but I fear he got away with too much of something far more valuable."

The man's square jaw stayed shut. Brune didn't ask questions, but Petyr was used to it, and explained himself anyway.

"Information. I'd ask him to return it, but that's just not possible." How wrong I'd been. Clegane had gotten away with something more tangible, but Petyr hadn't known that at the time. He'd pressed his lips together in a smile and said, "See that he doesn't leave the Vale with it. The sword and gold are yours."

Brune gave a measured nod and left, sent by Petyr Baelish to kill Sandor Clegane. For the world, it was no big loss. In fact, Petyr felt himself the hand of justice. The Hound loved killing. It was only fitting that his violent past would catch up with him, and Petyr's motives had not been selfish. He had only ordered his death to keep Alayne safe.

The rest of the day was business and farewells, as his guests trickled out of the Eyrie one at a time like drops of water from a mountain fissure. He was not sorry to see them go, but acted towards each as though that man or woman was his greatest ally. It was tiring, really. That night he fell asleep remembering Cat.

In the morning, his thoughts went again to Sansa. He'd only been daydreaming when he said that he would marry her. Maybe he was also hoping for a spark of hope to show in her eyes. He'd had his low birth rubbed in his face often enough to know that it was silly to expect that; still, the future was unwritten. Anything was possible. If the time and opportunity were right, he could confess that there were things he wanted from her that could only properly be had between a husband and a wife.

He would get a chance soon. Once Alayne gave her consent to the marriage she would be examined by a visiting Maester and proven wholesome—and Petyr had the strings to pull even if she wasn't. Since the poor girl could hardly be expected to go through such a humiliating examination without the presence of a trusted guardian, Petyr had every intention of consoling his daughter throughout the process. Then he'd be able to see for himself that piece of her he'd broke open on her mother.

And if the Imp had done his work, then Petyr had in mind a gift for her to take to Ser Harry.

But by the eve of Ser Harry's departure Alayne had still not come out of her room. Everyone had expected her to come down and say her farewells to her fiancé, but she did not. Not even her maid knew where she was.

They tore the castle apart looking for her, and Petyr even had them look outside, fearful that she had thrown herself to her death to avoid being separated from him. But her body was not among the stones, and she could not be found inside. That brat Harry had the gall to insinuate that this was some kind of trick. Petyr held his own tongue with more success, though the same thought had crossed his own mind with Morton and Hardyng as the culprits. After the search party looking outside turned up the body of Ser Harry's squire, accusations flung heavy from both sides.

Petyr had calmed them—but only after he was sure this was not some plot to avoid paying the girl's dowry, or worse, that they had discovered her true identity. The Master of Horse was questioned—and punished, but all he seemed to know was that the girl had gone out riding with the squire. The bulk of the blame seemed to rest on the boy, much to Harry's dismay, but the death and Alayne's kidnapping appeared to be the work of Mountain Men. Even now Sers Harry and Morton were on their way to gather a force and head into the mountains and rescue—or avenge—his lady love.

Now that Brune had returned with the news that Sandor Clegane had never passed the Gates of the Moon, it all fell into place. There were few reasons to leave the Eyrie by any other route. He was sneaking off the Vale with something to hide. Petyr had his suspicions that he had recognized Alayne, and now that they were both gone, it seemed clear that he had kidnapped her. How the squire fit into it exactly Petyr wasn't sure, but somehow Clegane had used him to lure the girl out of the castle. Petyr went along with the Mountain Men story, but the whole situation reeked of Lannister trickery.

He opened up a drawer in his desk and took out the dragon skull. He knew that there were dozens like it in the cellars beneath the Red Keep. How could he have believed that Jorah Mormont sent it to him as proof of the rising power of the Dragon Queen? Clegane had said that Varys was missing from King's Landing, so he had to bring the informer's message to Petyr instead. Now it seemed to Petyr more likely that Clegane had never met Ser Jorah, there were no reborn dragons, and that Varys had whispered the entire plot in Cersei's ear. Then she had sent her dog to sniff out Sansa. Certainly she couldn't have come up with something so clever by herself.

Petyr contemplated the skull, a newfound hatred for it seizing him when he thought of all he had exchanged for this borrowed piece of trash. It hurt him to think that he had handed over the Princess of the North for some false story about a phantom enemy. And what would Cersei, cruel bitch that she was, do once she finally had Sansa, who she blamed for her son's death? Not kill he—-she would need her for the kingdom of Winterfell. But harm her. That was certain.

"Tell the servants to get their shit together," he told Lothor Brune. "Pack quickly. We're leaving the Eyrie as soon as possible." They were a few days ahead of schedule, but it made no matter.

"Aye, I'll tell 'em. We make for the Fingers in the morning?"

"Tonight, if we can manage it. And we're not going to the Fingers." To leave the Eyrie for Petyr Baelish's ancestral home had been the plan, but it was not the plan anymore. "We're going to King's Landing."

If he was going to save Sansa, he would need to treat with Cersei.