FIVE

She did not know how long it was until she opened her eyes, but when she did, dusk had long since passed. Warmth seeped into her skin from all around her, much like a cocoon. At first, Eirie forgot about her capture, the bruises and her likely approaching demise. The saviour that brought her to a haven had slipped her mind as well; the storm in his eyes and the lies behind his aid. As far as sleeping Eirie was concerned, she currently lay in her home -her safe habitat she had created for herself in the wild. As far as little Eirie was concerned, all was well, and the only thing to worry her was her next meal. To put it simply, Eirie was in a safe haven.

Alas, that peace ended, and so she began to slip back into consciousness. The fuzziness of her slumber ebbed away; a cool breeze dusted her cheeks and the warmth she had felt was no longer in her mind- it had a physical source. Her muscles began to cry out in displeasure from the result of a certain stony and chained prison that had encompassed her previously. Yet, they seemed to rejoice from a new pressure other than rock, but rather, a soft cloud.

Eirie's eyes began to flicker. Dull red and orange clouds accumulated behind her eye lids as they opened. Her vision yawned out to see a fire place, lit and crackling; a door way with stings of beads cascading down from its top; a desk; a window-

A man.

He sat on a simple chair near the fire, his gaze locked onto the flames. He was entranced.

Everything came back to her suddenly. The capture, the king and the inhumane masquerade around her known as Kingslanding. And him. This man that sat so contently before her when he had in fact committed treason not long before. Eirie found herself dissecting him- picking him apart piece by piece. Danger. Mischief. Keep away. But regardless of all the words swirling in her head, "safe" resolved the strongest. He was all those things she thought, and more, but he was her safe spot. An island in a storm. This recollection caused her to breathe in deeply.

Then, something smacked her in the face, metaphorically speaking that is. It was the realization that she had passed out on the carpet by the fire, yet now she lay feet away from it and heightened. Eirie looked down. There was a remarkable soft hyde of an animal rubbing against her naked skin- the fur was dark and thick. She was in the bed that she had first seen when entering the room however log ago. Though how she had gotten into the bed escaped her-

"You're awake."

Her exhausted eyes flickered to the voice's source. She could have sworn she saw his breathing alter for a moment and a change in the light of his eyes. But it was so quick, Eirie allowed it to pass.

"H-"she went to speak, but all that came out was a dry whisper, beyond recognition. Her equally dried up throat spasmed and contracted from the abuse it had been through. Eirie coughed uncontrollably, her lungs were looking for air where there was none.

The man bolted up and seemed to be at her side in an instant. He raised a goblet of water to her lips, which she opened, and sipped at the liquid, so as to not drown herself. It was laced with some sort of oil that further soothed Eirie's throat; she began to breathe better and swallow properly. The man waited, his eyes not leaving her once as though she were worth his undying attention.

"Hello..."she whispered, not quite meeting his gaze with her unusual irises. Instead, she focused on his shoulder. It was a smooth slope that looked almost gentle. Regardless of how it appeared, she speculated that there was more weight on that one shoulder that any man could carry. The secrets; burdens; plans; information and cruelty that he knew and had known- they rested there. Eirie's hand slipped out from under the fur while the other loosely held it to her breast. When she reached out and her small hand met with his clothed flesh, Eirie felt almost relieved. She was not hallucinating; that she was not still in that cell; that he had found something new; she was his for the taking. That was something she needed to explore; was she his for the taking or for the keeping?

Her eyes became enthralled with having physical contact. A breath escaped her mouth and she let the fur skin fall; not caring that she was exposed, though Petyr hardly noticed. She took in one breath after another, they slowly became gasps; if it weren't for her dry eyes, Petyr would have thought that she was sobbing. He looked down at where she touched him, fully realizing how even the simplest touch can save a life.

"Thank you.."

Petyr returned his gaze from his shoulder to Eirie. She was staring at him.

"My Lord, pray tell, what is your name?" She murmured to him.

From her place against the headboard, Eirie could almost see the heat of the fire meeting his skin; a pink hue colouring his nose and cheekbones. He hesitated, this man waited a great deal, Eirie found. Always contemplating and calculating.

As he thought of whether or not to tell her his name, Petyr felt the heat from where her hand once was. That was a mere half of an hour ago, yet the warmth seemed to be imbedded into his skin.

"My name is Baelish. Though you may call me Petyr when it is just you and I."

Then he added,"There are many a listening eye and prying eye so we must take care. We can not let anyone think that I am helping you or who know what may happen."His rough voice grated against Eirie's eardrums, reminding her of her old home. The armoured soldiers strolling to their posts after their leave, the wheels on market carts in the main square, the conversations that boiled within the walls and the sound of her father when he was tired, but would tell her stories regardless.

She grinned.

"No..."It was quiet, but Petyr heard it. He turned towards the small girl. Her hair was a mess, curling, swirling and sticking up; eyes wide awake; skin returning to its pale norm. She looked alive. Very much alive.

"We mustn't."