"Stop right there!" Petyr thundered, his voice was terrifying enough for me to slip out of his arms and back away. Petyr's steps resounded off the hardwood floor as he made his way to the half-opened door. He flung it open with such terrible force that it made the old woman nearly fall back in terror. In a low, deadly voice, Petyr drawled out, "What- do- you- want?"

"I only-" stammered the old woman.

"You only?" he said in a mocking voice. "If it is an excuse, Marg, I don't want to hear it."

Petyr was not a tall man, nor was he intimidating in appearance, but his anger was a terrible thing to behold. The old woman continued to tremble before him, shaking in her boots like a child. A part of me empathized with the poor woman, it was a simple mistake, but it would have cost us dearly. We could have been ruined, I reminded myself, it would have cost us everything.

Petyr stooped himself low, forcing his steely eyes to be leveled with hers. "From now on you will knock on the door before you enter a room. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Lord Baelish" she murmured.

"Good," he shot back. He returned to his own level, sensing the old woman had learnt her lesson. In a much kinder tone he asked, "What is it that you want, Marg?"

"I wanted to see if your daughter needed help getting changed. And if she wants a hot bath I can do that as well."

"Alayne?" he asked. His eyebrows raised in the air with faint amusement at our little game. "Do you require Marg's services?"

"I do. Thank you, father," I said in my sweetest tones. I must remember to stay in my role as well, I thought, as the old woman began to notice my half-naked appearance with suspicion. She knows there is something not right, but she can't put her finger on it- yet.

"Very well," Petyr purred in the softest of tones. "Come down once your done. I have something to tell you."

I let out a long exhale, letting the last of the air escape my lungs before I took a step down the long, windy staircase. I don't know how much longer I can do this, I thought, as I stroked my fingers across the smooth curves of the wooden handrail. How can I pretend that I am his daughter if I have feelings for him? How can I keep all my emotions bottled up when all I want is for them to explode?

In less than a month he'll be a married man, my conscious reminded me. I shut my eyes at the remembrance of it, wishing these hateful thoughts would go away. I let out another exhale, smaller this time before I took a solitary step on the wooden stairs; it creaked and then groaned loudly beneath my feet. The stairs and my conscious were one of the same, protesting loudly as I made my way down the stairs. If I had any second thoughts of turning back, it would have been in vain, for a stranger suddenly appeared from an open doorway. He was a great burly looking man, with long tousled hair and a thick bristly beard. He wore a full suit of armour and heavy chain mail, and on the front of his breast plate was a mockingbird sigil. This man was clearly one of Petyr's men, although, he looked far more imposing than the rest of his guardsmen. Light brown eyes stared back at me inquisitively, before he took a step forward and bowed to me in a chivalrous manner. In a deep, booming voice he exlaimed, "Lady Baelish! It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

"You know me?" I asked, slightly rattled that he recognized me. A small part of me was thankful he did not call me by my bastard name, Alayne Stone, as many others had done since I stepped off Petyr's ship.

"Oh, everybody does!" He assured me. "They even made a tale about you, maybe even a song by now."

He lifted his large, calloused hands into the air for added emphasis, as he said, "'The Drowning of Sirens' that's what they call it. The poor bastard that made a song about you and your father was thrown straight into the sea with his nothing but a broken lyre to buoy him up. They say he sang the sweetest of songs before he sank into the water for good."

So that is what Petyr had in mind when he stormed out of my room that morning, I contemplated. It also explains why he avoided me like the plague. The sailors must have been gossiping about us beforehand, and the bard's song only made matters worse. But how was I suppose to know that? Petyr never told me what went on in the outside world- he kept me in the dark. Why did he always keep me in the dark?

"Where you there?" I asked him, after I broke out of my meditative-like trance. "Did you see what happened to the sailor?"

"No, I was below deck. I had to deal with some rowdy sailors that were still jabbering on about the bloody song. Seven Hells! It's like they had nothing else better to do."

I covered my mouth, trying to suppress the laughter that was quickly escaping me. This stranger is most certainly amusing, I thought, and handsome as well. His light brown eyes were warm and friendly as he looked at me, it reminded me of my father's; it was so different from Petyr's, which could look so cold and calculating when he was ready.

"My name is Ser Dale Braes by the way," he offered. He reached for my hand and gently lifted it towards his face; the back of my hand tickled lightly as his prickly beard rubbed against my sensitive skin. His lips were surprisingly soft as he kissed the back of my hand.

"Alayne?" said a low voice in the darkness. Damn. I turned my head to see that Petyr had just walked out of his solar room with scrolls still in hand; he had a death grip on them, making them crumple loudly as he bent them in two. Petyr was clever enough to wear a dead-pan expression, but his eyes could not hold back the truth: they were steely, almost leaden-like, as he took in the scene of Ser Dale's lips still hovering over my hand.

"Father?" I squealed, before I snatched my hand out of the knight's firm grip. "I was just becoming acquainted with Ser Dale."

"Yes, I can see that!" he said sharply. His voice was full of strange energy as he muttered, "Come into my office, Alayne. I need a word with you."

I descended the last of the stairs, careful to avoid Ser Dale's insistent gaze. If he keeps this up he'll end up like that poor sailor, I thought, as I made my way around his large figure. Hopefully he has more wits about him than that unfortunate bard.

I avoided Petyr's rather unsettling gaze as well, as I walked past him and went into his brightly lit solar. The door slammed behind me, a low chink of the lock assured me that we were alone, and were meant to be undisturbed.

"Really, Petyr?" I said with slight annoyance, as I turned around to face him. "There is nothing to worry about. I was just-"

Petyr lips swooped in, cutting out the last of my words with his fiercely passionate kisses. He opened his mouth wide to swallow me whole, forcing his lips onto mine with an unyielding force. His hands squeezed down hard on my waist, before he lifted me atop of his desk and tossed his papers to the side. He clapped the back of my head and pulled my face in, kissing me zealously: biting down on my lower lip and stretching it out before he let it smack back in place. Hot hands slowly climbed its way up my leg, swirling it way around my outer thigh in a teasing manner. Petyr pressed his face against mine, forcing me backward till I arched over his desk in an immodest position. Fearful of losing my balance, I slid my arms around the back of his neck and dug my nails down the length of his back without admonition. Petyr groaned into my mouth, while he pressed his member harder against me. Suddenly, his hands pushed my legs apart and he forced his way into my middle. Pleased by the expediency of his nimble hands as they worked their way down my inner thigh, I thrust my tongue into his mouth with new-found pleasure, feeling the last of my innocence lost when the tip of my tongue connected with his. Petyr let me feel it, encouraging me to explore this unknown territory. I could feel him nod his head in approval as I licked the inside of his cheek. His hands began to wander up my lower back, tearing the seams of the dress as he forced his way up the middle. Hot fingers worked its way up my spine, as I continued to prod his mouth with my tongue. He grew restless, however, for he began to fence with my tongue and then defeated it soundly; in less than a heartbeat he dominated me completely. I groaned in frustration, as Petyr forced his tongue down upon mine and beat it to submission. I pulled myself away from him and blurted out, "That's not fair! Your just jealous!"

"Hmmm," he moaned, as he drew himself closer to my face again.

"Just admit it, Petyr" I shot back. "I've never seen you this way."

"Yes, well let's not make it a habit," he quipped. His grey- green eyes started to darken again as he looked at my rose-coloured lips attentively.

"Petyr," I moaned. He simply ignored me, and opened his mouth wide to nip at my sensitive skin along my neck. Nibbling it light, ensuring he wouldn't leave a mark on my pale ivory skin. We can't have people asking questions, I thought, as Petyr continued on his journey. Feeling satisfied, he licked the length of my neck in a soothing manner, lathering the small bit marks he had just made.

He lifted his head upwards until he faced me and whispered, "Don't ever do that again."

"Or what? You'll have me on the table," I teased.

Petyr puckered his lips at me unconsciously, as the thought quickly sifted in his mind. "Oh, Sansa," he groaned in annoyance, before he turned away to retrieve his goblet of wine that was left at the edge of the table. He gulped it down nervously trying to distract his thoughts of the image of me sprawled out upon his desk begging for more. He drained it down completely, ensuring his thirst was quenched before he looked down at the bottom of the cup sullenly. "Oh, Sansa," he repeated again, but this time he said it rather gravely.

"He's too old for me anyways," I said off handily, noticing Petyr's sudden change of mood.

"Braes is a few years younger than myself," Petyr grunted.

"Exactly."

"If you are trying to get me angry-"

"I think it's a little too late for that, love. We are way past that stage now, don't you think?"

"Sansa," Petyr growled, like a wild animal in a cage. His face was darkening by the second. Maybe he really will have me on the table, I thought. I bit my lip down hard with anticipation.

"It's Alayne remember?" I said wickedly, knowing the angrier he became the more likely he would ravish me on the table. "Or have you forgotten that as well. Jealousy really does wonders-"

Petyr prevented me from going any further, for he pulled me into a tight embrace and smothered the last of my words with kisses. I gasped for air for half a second, before Petyr pulled me down further, until I laid flat on the desk. He crawled on top of it, and punished my insolent behaviour with monstrous kisses till my lips were swollen and felt raw to the touch. The desk shook violently beneath us, as Petyr situated himself on top of me, spreading his legs out to the farthermost corners of his desk while he pressed his hardened cock to my center. "Fuck me," Petyr growled, the moment my hands trailed down his mid-section to grab a hold of his crotch.

"Yes?" I teased, knowing full well the manner of which Petyr said it. My restless hands suddenly swooped upwards and found its way to the minuscule buttons of Petyr's doublet. One by one I unbuttoned it, enjoying the precious sight of Petyr's scar against his snowy white skin.

"I specifically remember you said you wouldn't sleep with me anymore," he said slyly, while he watched me undress him.

"I did say that, didn't I?" I mused, while looking up at him. Raising an eyebrow at him, I shifted my fingers away from his infuriating buttons and lightly pushed the center of Petyr's chest away from me.

"Sansa?" he asked in confusement.

"The trouble is once you've done it before, it's harder not to do it again."

Petyr blinked at me in bewilderment. He did not like the increasing pressure on his chest, as I pushed him further away. Looking at me with saddened eyes he asked, "And what exactly do you mean by that, Sansa?"

"You're a clever boy. I'm sure you will figure it out soon enough."

"No," he stammered out. "I won't!"

"Oh, I don't know," I said airily, feigning the voice of the sweet, innocent girl I once was. "It would be so much easier to fuck you, if I knew you weren't going to marry my Aunt Lysa."

"Sansa, please-"

I put my finger to his lip and murmured, "It's Alayne, remember?"

"Alayne," Petyr wailed. "We've been through this before-"

"Yes, we have," I interjected. "Which is why I have nothing more to say."

"Wait! Where are you going?" he cried out, once I slid out of his arms and hopped off the desk.

"To see what exactly Ser Dale's job description entails."

"Your enjoying this," he said in a raspy voice, his brogue thicker than ever before.

"Oh, more than you will ever know," I teased, before I winked at him and closed the door behind me.

I wandered down the lonely halls in search of Ser Braes, hoping his soft brown eyes and long chestnut locks would be a helpful distraction from Petyr. He's a knight, I reminded myself, as I rounded another corner that lead to the kitchen. I knocked on the door before entering, and spotted Marg working her fingers through a ball of dough. "Have you seen Ser Dale?" I asked, careful not to look the old woman in the eye.

"He's already outside waiting for your father. They should both be gone soon enough."

"Where are they going?" I inquired, hoping she wouldn't notice the crack in my voice. Petyr didn't tell me he was leaving, I panicked. Since when did he keep secrets from me?

Since you left him in his solar with a uncomfortably harden cock, a small voice said at the back of my mind. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of it.

"I'm not sure. You'll have to ask him when he comes back. All I know is they had a bit of trouble down by the shore."

"What sort of trouble?"

The old woman dusted off her hand with a towel, carefully removing the last of the sticky dough before she uttered, "The fog- it's the fog that's caused all this trouble. If you've never been to The Fingers, it sure is easy to lose your way. Those sailors have been out there wandering across the fields for quite sometime now, and with all of the luggage and everything else they need to carry they must be close to loosing their minds. Your father and Ser Dale are heading down there to show them the way."

"But it's almost dark," I observed, as I looked towards the open window where the last of the sunset melted against the aegean sky. "Couldn't they go tomorrow morning?"

"Best to go now. Don't worry about your father, child," Marg cooed, as he held my hand in a soothing manner. "Your father knows this land, more than anyone else. He'll be just fine."

High-pitch squeals from horses broke our comforting silence, as the horses mournful cries rang through the open window. "That must be off now," Marg reasoned. I sprinted towards the open window, but I was too late, the sounds of horses galloping past my window could be heard: metal hoofs pounded the muddy earth as they made their way around the back of the house to the front.

A flash of black blazed against the burnt orange sun, as Petyr's horse moved swiftly down the sea green hill till his darkened figure could be seen no more. Ser Dale pale white horse soon followed, the wings of his azure blue cloak flapped mercilessly against the harrowing wind.

"We won't be seeing them anytime soon," Marg mused. She returned to her baking, hardly bothered at all that her master had just left. She was mixing raisins into the batter when she added, "You'd be lucky if your father returns by tomorrow night. He has always been as busy as a bee, that one! Aye, I wouldn't be surprised if we don't see them over the next several days. And the way Petyr's been behaving lately, who knows when he'll be back."

Author's Notes:

This next chapter is going to be a big one! Just like Petyr, I have a few things up my sleeve and I don't want to show them until the time is right. For this reason, chapter eight will be posted a week or two later, but I promise you it will be worth the wait.

Hope you enjoy the climb!

- petyrbaaaeeelish