Yeesh my bad ya'll. Fprgpt what day it was lmfao!

Petyr Baelish was angry. Things were not going how he wanted them, and the Game of Thrones was quickly swaying out of his favor. The boy King Jofferey had also recently taken to assaulting two of his best whores, one of which he damaged her pretty face and body. When Tyrion had brought Baelish to his girl, the Lord had been completely in shock. What would he do now? She was one of his best. Now who would want to sleep with a face like that? Being a Lannister, the imp had paid him a considerable amount of gold for damages to the girl, after snarking something about "people for wares" and "morality." Good old Lannister's, always paying their debts.

Baelish had himself another problem; the King's Hound had been sniffing around his pleasure house the past months, ever since Elyria arrived from Dorne. That would usually be all well and good, but he didn't like the fact that it was only her he'd laid with. And they were all night affairs. If it were discovered that Petyr had smuggled Elyria from her father, he'd aided in her desertion, the Sand Snakes would surely want his head as well as her own. And if that were to get back to the Queen… well he would be stuck under her thumb for eternity.

So now Petyr Baelish decided he'd slink through the castle and speak with this Hound, figure out exactly what he knew. There were ways of making that dog talk, but Baelish knew he couldn't very well hold a torch to his face, no, he have to be far more subtle than that. He knew he could out smart the dog. Petyr found The Hound standing quietly outside of King Jofferey's quarters, the beast scowled at him as he approached.

"Ah, Hound, just the man I wanted to see." Sandor Clegane narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him, scowling at him before answering.

"What do you want, Littlefinger." Petyr smiled at the man as he spared no formalities. Might as well dive right in.

"I've seen your comings and goings lately. Tell me, how fares the lonely dog?" Petyr asked him. The Hound snorted at him, his face, and temper, sour, as per usual.

"Fuck your insults, clown. I haven't time for 'em." The Hound told him, immediately ignoring the man. It didn't bother Baelish, though.

"I've just noticed your particular interest in my Dornish lady. I was wondering if that's a recent development or have you always had a kink for the foreign?" Sandor paused, shifting his weight so the he would seem bigger. It was never a good thing when a pimp asked about his women, Sandor had learned that the hard way, and with that one question, Sandor was put on high alert.

"Why do you care what I put my dick in, twat?" Sandor scowled, trying to maintain his air of fuck it all. Petyr Baelish smiled, he could see through this Hound. He'd spent his life toying and playing with others. This Hound was as transparent as a pane of glass.

"Oh, I rightly don't. I just heard your spat last night, seemed more of a lovers quarrel than a disagreement between buyer and seller." Littlefinger prodded. Sandor swallowed hard the word seller in regards to Elyria's body.

"Fuck your riddles." Sandor spat, eyeballing the man. "What is it you want? And quickly. I don't have patience for little cunts like you." Petyr bit back a smirk, exactly where he wanted him.

"With her face the way it is, she's not getting much business. I just wanted to offer you a discounted night with another of my girls because I'm afraid the next time you have a chance to get in, Elyria may not be there." Baelish drawled. Sandor narrowed his eyes at the man, his fist clenching. Don't hit him, don't hit him, don't hit him. "I mean, I can't afford to board her and feed her considering she hasn't had a paying client in weeks. You see, men like to look at a pretty face when they're fuck-"

Sandor just could not contain himself anymore and he shoulder checked Petyr Baelish hard into the wall next to him. Littlefinger merely smirked at the man, his mouth an "oh" of recognition. Sandor nearly shook with rage, how could he have been so stupid? To fall for the dumb cunt's silly games.

"I knew it wouldn't be hard, Hound. I toy with men much smarter than you everyday." Sandor held the man harder to the wall, but his smirk only widened. "You're a stupid man, falling for a whore." And with an impressive show of strength, Littlefinger pushed Sandor aside, straightening his shirt and collar, before walking off down the hall, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Oh, and good luck tonight, I've heard rumors that Stannis' fleet should arrive within hours."

Sandor's stomach did flips. He was angry and, dare he say it afraid. He needed to get to Elyria and he had to see her before the Baratheon's fleet arrived. He felt the urge to warn her of Petyr Baelish's treachery, but something deep down inside of him told him she'd find out soon, if she didn't already know.

"Ah, fuck me." He muttered, as he sighed and began to leave his post. He knew he had to protect her this time. The ninny king would wait, the boy liked him, even though Sandor would love nothing more than to body slam the brat into dust. He would have to be quick, he didn't have long until he had to be at the front line.

It was dark by the time that Petyr Baelish returned to the brothel, and the entire house was in an outrage. Ros was missing, she'd gone with a John the night prior and still had not returned. Elyria was the first to spot him as he entered, heading immediately for his office. Quickly she followed him, startling him as she entered.

"Master Baelish." Her voice came quietly and he turned, scared. She was not someone you would want sneaking up on you.

"What?!" He barked, less eloquently than usual. Elyria bowed her head in apologies. Petyr took a deep breath. "What is it?" He said again, more calm now.

"It's Ros. She's missing." Elyria said after a short pause. Littlefinger had a nasty habit of shooting the messenger, but she knew if he'd remained in the dark, he would have only been angrier. Petyr stood quietly, letting the news sink in. He had a feeling that he knew where she was, but he didn't have time to worry about that.

"She will turn up." He said finally. Elyria frowned at his display if apathy towards someone that she viewed as a friend, but she nodded all the same, turning to leave him. "Wait." He said quietly. Dread filled Elyria's belly as she turned to face him. He studied her quietly, crossing the room until he was standing in front of her. "How has today gone?"

"How do you mean?" Elyria knew exactly what he was talking about, but she decided to buy herself some time to think of a less disappointing way to tell him. Petyr narrowed his eyes at the whore, cocking his head to one side before speaking again.

"I didn't stutter." Elyria's heart sank, he was aggravated. She swallowed slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

"I haven't had a client." Her voice was quiet and Elyria found herself surprisingly afraid of this man. She knew that she could end him, but then what? Kill the King's treasurer and run? Where too? "I'm sorry, I've been trying but they-" In an instant, Elyria felt his hand at her throat as he shoved her against the closed door behind her. Her eyes went wide with fear as she clawed at his hands and his face. He slammed her again, her arms going slack at her sides.

"I have been kind to you, haven't I, Elyria?" he asked her. She sputtered against his grip, which only tightened the longer she didn't answer. She nodded quickly in reply. "I've clothed you, I've fed you, I've given you freedom from your sisters, from your family. You're allowed to come and go as you please, within reason, and all I've asked in return is for you to make me some money. Have I expected to much of you?" Petyr Baelish asked her again. Elyria had finally stopped fighting against him, finding that the harder she fought the tighter he held on to her neck.

"No…" she whispered.

"Then why is it that you haven't had a client one these past several weeks?" Elyria said nothing, still watching Littlefinger quietly. "You will have one by the end of this week, or I will return you to The King. He's been feeling tense because of the oncoming battle. I'm sure he would like some victory cunt once he bests his uncle." His threat did not fall on deaf ears and he released her harshly. Elyria coughed violently, her hands grabbing at her neck. "Oh, and Elyria," Petyr called from his desk as he sifted through several papers. "The King's dog doesn't count."

"Yes Master Baelish." She bowed, feeling dirty. She could have killed him, should have killed him. She could survive on her own for a while, even if she didn't know Westeros very well. But even though she was thinking confident thoughts, she still scurried from his room, tail tucked between her legs. Her neck burned and she knew it would be a bruise before morning.

Quickly, Elyria made it to her chamber doors, avoiding eye contact with her fellow workers and the few clients who had entered Littlefinger's brothel while she was in his office. She would need to cover up her face and neck quickly before they all left. She entered her room and was only half surprised to see Sandor waiting by her bedside. The pair said nothing as they looked each other up and down, subconsciously, Elyria's hand flew to her neck.

"You need to leave." Elyria told him quickly as she crossed to her vanity. The Hound said nothing, but she could hear his boots tapping on the ground as he joined her at her table. His gaze pierced her, she could feel it on the back of her neck. With a gentle hand, he took her shoulder, spinning her around.

"Baelish did that to you." It wasn't a question, he already knew the answer, and he softly ran his thumb along the dark bruise on her neck. It looked fresh and he kicked himself for not getting here sooner. Elyria remained quiet, but she knew that was answer enough, and Sandor growled, looking at her door. He could kill Littlefinger and get away with it, he was sure he could. The Queen's Regent hated him anyways. He'd probably get a bloody promotion.

"You need to leave." Elyria urged him again but she didn't move as his fingers traced her neck. Sandor didn't respond to her, he only watched her quietly, as she began to wilt in front of him. "I haven't had a client in weeks. If I don't fuck somebody he's going to return me to King's Landing." She whispered. Slowly, Sandor reached into his pocket, producing his change purse. Elyria sighed, exasperated. "I'm not taking your money, Clegane. You don't count and if he catches me I'd hate to see what he'll do before he sends me to the git king."

"I'd like to see him try." The Hound barked, catching Elyria off guard.

"Why are you here?" Elyria questioned him, her hand finding his on her neck. She cupped it gently.

"Stannis Baratheon's fleet will be arriving soon." He told her, not really sure what to say. He'd come to protect her from Baelish, to warn her, but he'd been too late, judging from her neck and her shaken appearance. Elyria watched him quietly, a question in her eyes. "You should stay in tonight, Songbird."

"You're worried about me?" She purred, hiding her obvious shock. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Sandor didn't speak for a very long minute as he weighed his options carefully.

"Aye," He said finally. Elyria went to speak, but before she could, Sandor dropped his head, where his lips met hers. The kiss was tentative, unsure, but he did it all the same. He might die tonight and if he did he knew he wanted her lips to be his last memory. Elyria was shocked, he'd never kissed her before, it had been too intimate a thing, and his lips on hers set her heart alight. She pressed up onto her toes, kissing him back in earnest.

Slowly, clumsily, the Hound moved his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him as her hands found his chest. Elyria smiled into the kiss, he'd taken off his armor before she'd arrived, and she grabbed a hand full of his shirt in her small hands.

The pair made their way to her bed, where Sandor sat down, bringing her down with him in a heap. He broke the kiss, staring at her quietly, breath heavy. Elyria searched his eyes for something, anything, before she continued, some kind of sign that it was okay to kiss him again. Without thinking, Sandor brought his hand to her cheek, tracing her pink, puckered flesh gently. Elyria attempted to pull free her face, but he held her cheek firmly in his calloused hand. Again he kissed her, this one more wanton and needy.

His hands found their way to her hips and she ground them hungrily into his. He growled, it's sound heavy with lust, and he began to fiddle with the pins for her sheer robe. After several seconds it fell from her shoulders and Elyria broke the kiss, only to strip out of the robes and fiddle with his belt. Surprisingly he stopped her, reaching again into his pocket.

"If you try to give me your fucking purse I will slap you." Elyria told him, again kissing him hungrily. "I'm not taking your money anymore, lover." She broke the kiss again, to whisper. Sandor's stomach did pleasant flips and his hand found it's way to the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her mess of thick black hair.

Stay Beautiful!