GOT ➨ Game of Thrones One Shots

Petyr Baelish x Reader [Part 2] { Parlay }

Second part Requested by @somebody-actually . I tried to be more romance-y in this and when the first kiss came around it killed me to write, so you're welcome XD

As you woke in the morning light, the memories of yesterday came flooding into your head and you pressed a hand against your forehead, rubbing it a little before propping yourself up with a single elbow, a determined look making it's way onto your face-

This time you'd win, because you'd find him again and the tables would be turned- Rather, the tables would be turned because you'd let him find you.

After dressing into brown leggings, a short, black, sleeveless dress, and some furry hunting boots with a thin fur cape for the ever-chilling days, you left your home, for the town, where you had seen Baelish just the day before.

Unsurprisingly, you found him where he was last, on the other side of the courtyard, but you could only risk a single flickering glance at him to confirm he was there before you returned to where you were priorly, opposite-

See, from a strategic point of view, this game needed to start with all the pawns in their original places, and both of you knew that. So, here you both were. This time, you sat, legs still, leaning back and feeling the hard, cold press of the gravelly platform on your palms as you lazily glanced about at the people below you.

In a way, you felt a sense of power about being above so many- but they were many and you were one, so your power was diminished. After a long while you decided to take a glance and see if he was still there-

Yes, and he was was staring at you, waiting. Waiting for you to give in and go over. The only response to this was a smirk, and for you to lean back further, relaxing- you wouldn't give in to him today.

20 minutes. Your back ached- you glanced up at him once again to see an irritated expression upon his face, as he stared across now at the platform- he knew he was losing in a Cold War.

10 minutes more-
But when you looked again he was gone. You felt a tug at your foot and your eyes widened as you tumbled face first towards the ground, unable to change the direction of the fall-

And someone caught you, or at least steadied you so you landed on your feet. You scowled at the smirking face that looked down at you which belonged to the hand that steadied the centre of your back and gripped your arm... The face and hands of him.

"My lady, you'll find that you've lost your little game again." He smugly spoke, "So, can I ask you a question?"

You gave him a cautious glance, but agreed, "Is it hot on warmer days in the north for you?" It was such an odd question, and you were unaware of the ploy behind it, so, standing up straight and beginning to walk until both of you reached the gates and continued, you gave an answer, "No..."

"Then why is it every time I see you your cheeks are as red as if you had just been thrown into the dornish sun after being trapped in a block of ice?" He questioned, and walking slightly faster, you replied behind gritted teeth, head turned away from him, "You said one question." Your dark reply followed.

Soon enough, you had managed to silently persuade and lead him to the outskirts of the woods by Winterfell, "You know, I have plenty of things to say and ask for you." You angrily replied as you halted, finally managing to turn to him. He raised a single eyebrow slightly and waved his hand out in front of him, as if permitting you to ask.

"How do you know my name?"
"If a man can't have any secrets he has no need to open his mouth." He coolly replied,
"Fine. Why are you so... interested by me?"
"You are certainly one to talk my lady-"
"I'm not a lady and certainly not your lady." Was your fiery response, to which he chuckled a little,
"Oh?" He challenged, taking a single step forward, "It doesn't seem that way to me." He noted, and you balled your fists, deciding between kissing him and slapping him hard across the face.

Then you realised the main reason you were holding back so much- he was a Lord, and a visitor to Winterfell... You were probably just some toy to him, and you were more than happy to let him know that you thought that,

"Well it should seem that way , because I know your kind. You'll just mess around a bit like the pigs you are and then run off as if the people you swore your love to were just girls you'd met in a brothel. I know you have to leave eventually, so there's no point." You mumbled, letting your head drop as you glared in despondency at the dark, almost black grass beneath your feet.

You felt his icy fingers in your chin lift it up, and his expression was no longer cunning, no longer playful- it was serious, "No. I have to go, true. But you could go, too. I ride by nightfall." He murmured softly, and you eyes him with suspicion,

"This is just another piece in your game." You spat, but after a very brief sideward a smile and a shake of the head, he pushed you against the tree that lay behind you and, a little more roughly than before, collided his lips upon your own.

This time, you kissed back. His lips were thin but that wasn't relevant for you. You were gentle in your ways of kissing, but he was as brutal as the games he played, and just as cunningly attempted to press this intimate relation further by slipping his tongue into your mouth, but you pushed him back and stared in awe at the man-

As usual, the triumphant smirk- but then the words, "I won." Before he turned around. You felt anger consume you and, storming up to him the few feet he had walked, you grabbed his arm, twisted him around and with the back of your hand struck him as hard as you could manage across the face.

The impact threw him back and jerked his head to the side violently, to which he grabbed his cheek, which was grazed red, and gave you an astonished expression, "Knowledge wins enemies, whether or not it wins wars." You coldly spoke, and he let out a long breath, "I was still proposing for you to ride with me tonight, you know. I don't think the domestic violence was necessary." He mumbled, and you cringed.

Stepping over, you gingerly cradled his face in your hand, "By the Gods I apologise sincerely! I didn't intend to- well, I did but- I didn't know-" you stammered, and your heart fluttered a bit as you saw him laugh at your attempts of apologising to him, "It's fine. I've been struck harder by men I've won actual battles against. Or that wouldn't pay the proper price for those I... Manage."

A thought then occurred to you as you fidgeted about with your hands, "Who...well, who are you? If I'm to travel away from this god forsaken place with you at least let me know your name." You asked, realising all this time you knew nothing about him and he probably knew everything about you,

"Lord Baelish- but you may call me Petyr." He replied in honesty for the first time- you'd heard that name before. And it sent shivers down your spine.

"Mother... What was it like living in King's Landing?" Your little sister had asked a year ago to your mother as you say by the fire in your cost cottage, "Well, there were many men and women of great power there."

"Did they have great swords and golden armour and lead armies?!" She had excitedly pressed, for your mother to giggle, "Some of them, aye-... But not all of them. For you to be powerful, you do not need to be strong. In fact, the most powerful men I met in that city were cunning, intelligent." She gave a few examples, but then, her face grew grave, "The most dangerous man in King's Landing, that I knew, was a simple brothel keeper. But he had the position Lord, and he got what he wanted. There is such a thing as not trusting a man- then there is him. Promise me, you'll never talk to such a man." She had urged looking not only at your sister, but at you,
"Yes, mother... But what was his name?"

"Petyr Baelish."

You smiled weakly, inclining your head, "Ah, now I understand the intelligence level." You smirked.

He offered you his arm and, hesitantly, you took it, linking your arm in his as you both headed back towards the village, blushing all the way, and at some point, leaning your head against his shoulder.

That evening and early night, though nothing happened between you, you lay next to each other in rest, waiting- sleeping. It was soothing to feel him next to you, and your stomach fluttered as in his sleep he turned and wrapped an arm around your stomach.

He may be dangerous, but you were sure that after some time, you could match up to that-

It was a match made in hell, because it was far too lethal for the forges of heaven. Not like either of you minded.