FOUR

"Oh my darling girl, what have we done to you?"

The voice was so quiet, Eirie almost hadn't heard it. Her crusted eyelids blinked open after a long moment, pupils adjusting to the light emanating from a torch. Her sharp gaze met with a dark figure just outside her door; illuminated by only the flickering light. The person was not large like The Hound, nor small like the king; simply average and not terribly imposing. However, regardless of the figure's stature, Eirie cowered back, practically becoming one with the stones behind her. Since she did not have the upper hand, she was fully on defence.

"Who's there?" She called in a broken whisper; the little water she was given resulted in her voice sounding like boots on gravel.

There was a time of quiet, and during the silence, Eirie began to think she had imagined her company completely. Perhaps it was her breaking mind reaching the shattering point? Maybe she was starting to lose sense...she thought she was still functioning perfectly fine, biting at anyone who came too close. But Eirie began to think she was wrong.

"Perhaps I am one whom you could come to call a friend."A low male voice riddled.

A glimmer of hope sparked in her eyes. The figure -man- was there, she wasn't mad...not completely.

"A friend?"

The voice chuckled dryly."Well, what one could classify as a friend in Kingslanding, Little one." His voice came, rough and calm. There was an accent foreign to her ears as well.

Lord Baelish moved a tad closer to better his view of her; still remaining in the shadows. What he saw horrified even him- the silver-tongued "Eyes and Ears" of Kingslanding, who no doubt had seen the worst.

Purpled bruises and coats of blood stained her porcelain skin; her hair returned to the maddened mess he had beheld when he first saw the girl; the sharp gaze he had seen not five days ago had lost the spark, replaced with dwindling embers; her proudly fragile frame had gone thin from malnutrition and starvation. But little did he know that there was still a fighting spirit in there. A surge of disappointment stuck through him. Did the child king have no mind?

"Why are you here, my lord?"She whispered.

"I have come to..." Come to what? Come to pry her mind apart? To manipulate her into trusting you? To free her? Use her? "...take you from the lion's jaws," Or simply take her to a worst beast? "and show you how to survive among the beasts."

Eirie curled in on herself, wincing visible and soundly. It was like watching a frightened child lost in the dark. She lay so still, Lord Baelish thought her soul had left her completely, giving her to the gods above them. He went to exit, contempt evident in his features, but was stopped by the most heart wrenching cry. It was that of a lamb, just before the axe splits its neck.

"Y-you're not going to...hurt me?"

A heavy sigh came from him. Yes, I may hurt you, but not alike the ways these beasts have. "No, no I shall not, Sweetling."

The screech that followed through with unlocking and opening the cell was beyond painful on the ears. The sound ricocheted off the halls and walls, floors and ceilings, creating a deafening whine that seemed to close in on anyone down there.

Placing the keys he had acquired into his robe pocket, Petyr moved into the cell quickly, raising the fragile creature to stand against the stone wall. What a mess. Up close, she looked even worse. There was no centimeter of cleanliness on the girl, even around her clouded eyes was dirtied with tears and grime that had accumulated there.

He took a new set of keys from up his sleeve- a smaller set. Picking up the left, small pale arm of Eirie, Petyr carefully slid the key into the lock at her wrist. The shackle gave away, and he repeated until every chain and shackle was settled on the stone floor.

A gentle warm arm of a sturdy nature wound around her waist and another took her arm, gently guiding Eirie closer to the outside world. She carefully looked up at her savior and was met with the gaze of a storm. Rolling clouds of grey-green tumbled across steel seas of secrets. The man that held her was only a few inches taller than herself and had neat, short dark hair with gray peppering his temples, along with a well kept mustache and goatee. Through her analysis, Eirie's eyes began to glaze and blur, but she didn't let herself go. Not when she was so close to free air.

They moved slowly and quietly up to the surface, stepping into rooms or small halls if a guard approached. Little detours were made on these accounts, but the directional change's forefront was to avoid Clegane. When The Hound had finally finished his duties along-side the king and passed them while they hid, Eirie's heart nearly stopped in it's place. While she dealt with his beatings day in and day out, she did not mind Hound. But as far as she was concerned, he was a servant to the king.

His eyes stayed forward as he passed them, staying on his course to her cell. While he did not see them, he would know she had disappeared from her confinement in only a matter of time. Then they would be in trouble...but trouble could wait. Baelish had to get the little creature away from prying eyes and swinging fists.

Once they reached the main level of the castle, the Petyr pulled a powder blue, silken scarf out from under his robes and draped it carefully around Eirie's face and shoulders. He swung Eirie into extravagant halls and up winding stairs, walking calmer now, as to not attract any unwanted attention. As they went down one hall, Petyr ripped Eirie discreetly from the main walk-way, and down a more secluded corridor. Neither of them spoke, until they reached an aged, dark wooden door.

"They have provided me with a room here in the Red Keep, though I do not see why. It has no relevance for I stay in my...own dwellings. But it remains there for my use." The lord explained.

He placed a simple brass key in the lock, turned it, and it clicked. The door swung open to reveal a simple but comfortable room. There was a large bed with matching bed covers and drapes, a solid desk, a large window that had a small window seat. It was tidy, and simple, but perfectly lush compared to anything Eirie was used to. She was reluctant to enter. Is this a trick? Is this an ill thought trick?! Eirie started to shake her head, first slowly, then frantically as hysteria took over. Her thin legs began to move back trying to get away, but to no avail. She only met a sturdy chest, to which, she croaked out a squeak of shock.

A soft "Shhhh..." spun the air around her. Eirie felt a slender hand carefully guide her into the room; she looked back at him with confusion and terror evident on her face.

"I wish for you to stay here for the time being. You are not safe anywhere, but you will be...better here." He concluded softly, but he still saw the reluctance, "I will not harm you, Sweetling."

The dry, hard gaze that had haunted Eirie's features moments ago softened. Who was this man? A friend, he had said. Friend...the word felt odd and inexperienced on Eirie's tongue; strange, but not fully unwelcome. A friend to help her play among the lions. A mentor? A strategist? A teacher. This man was not to be trifled with, played or crossed, she knew this already. He was probably dangerous...but he was her only mark of safety. And taking refuge with a dangerous man seemed to be her best bet against the odds, but something in the back of her mind squirmed, like it was trying to tell her something was off. But...what? He wouldn't hurt me, he had said. He is no strong man, surly no match for me...but something about his hesitation made her doubt the truth in his words, but there was another thing. It was the way he looked at her, watched her, observed her; like she was...precious. Like he was guarding her.

"It would be best if you did not leave this room, we wouldn't want something to happen to the King's new object of play, now would we?" He smirked at her ragged gasp, but it soon vanished. "There should be a tub of warm water through there," He pointed to a doorway protected adorned with beaded strings,"Now go. Rid yourself of this dirt. The bed is yours to sleep in, I will return in an hour's time." With that, he swept from the room, leaving little Eirie to collapse to the stone floor in exhaustion.

Picking herself up from the tiles, Eirie meandered to the other room. In the middle of it, was a simple copper tub, nothing special, but any form of civilized nature was an extravagant luxury in the eyes of Eirie. Having lived in the expanse of the outer world for the majority of her life, she knew little of pleasantries, and accommodations she only knew of what she was taught as a child all those years ago.

Peeling the thin and few layers of cloth from her body, along with the blue scarf, she carefully stepped into the bathing tub. Like it had when she first arrived, the water bit and nipped at her skin and wounds. Slowly, she scrubbed at her face determined to rid herself of the memories of what poisoned her thoughts; her weakness that allowed her to be captured by the Lannisters. Angered by the burn of the washcloth, she scrubbed at her white scalp with the same ferocity, then small arms and chest. A sob wracked the tiny girl of porcelain in her wash water, growing louder when she realized the scrubbing wouldn't would make any difference. She couldn't scrub the sheer humiliation of disgust from her skin. She cried for being weak. She cried for being captured. She cried out of confusion. She cried for the smallest possibility of kindness shown to her. She cried, and she didn't stop.

Her delicate skin was glowing red when the second layer of dirt was finally chiseled away. Slipping from the tub, Eirie stepped cautiously into the next room, ensuring that there was no trap awaiting her. Wobbling uneasily, she groped at the wall; the strength she had had was nearly diminished. Eirie collapsed by the hearth, finding comfort in the gentle, elegant flames dancing before her, forgetting where she was, forgetting the pain in her body and mind, forgetting the danger that closed in around her the longer she remained in the crowned city of Kingslanding.