Petyr Baelish x Reader | Caught Off Guard

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Your childhood home had always been quiet and isolated from the rest of the seven kingdoms- after all, the Vale of Arryn was up a rocky, hilly path, tucked away behind tight dried up interlocking spurs and guarded heavily by the kind of people more content than you with living their lives free of strange distractions. You cared little as a child- there were enough children to keep you satisfied in your boredoms, and you understood little of how lonely the vale truly was.

Now you were a grown Lady, yet to be married off to some pretentious prick- and left alone here, watching the hills beyond the Vale, under one of the few remaining banner-men to House Arryn. The cold days grew weary and with little to do spare write poetry, you jumped at the sight of any visitors- they always brought some interesting news, otherwise they'd have no reason to visit. And so you were inspired for weeks after their visits, imagining vivid lives beyond this drizzly prison- it was okay. As soon as your mother birthed her next child, you knew your parents couldn't care less what you did with your life- you had mere months left to wait before you no longer had to be considered the ageing heir to their name, a name you wanted little to do with anyway given it meant staying here.

With that being said, opportunity to fill in those months of time with fun endeavours came knocking at the gates of the vale- a party ushered in quietly, hoods up, only a single wagon.

You had to see what was going on.

Sweeping yourself from your tower window, you pattered downstairs and hopped through a doorway, then dashed out under the stone canopy surrounding the courtyard and discreetly watched from behind a pillar as the hooded strangers swept in. You bit your lip in anticipation, watching eagerly as the lackies took their hoods down- and finally the two heading the small company followed- and you gasped.

Sansa Stark, and Petyr Baelish- the now older boy you had spent countless years growing up besides. they began to look around them, and you ducked behind a pillow, with a glint in your eye- you'd give him a good welcome, alright- in the way you always had.

You listened patiently to their chatter and followed the company through to the Vale's main hall, where the manic Lady Arryn was quick to give him passionate greetings; hugging him for too long, pecking both his cheeks- entwining  her arm around his like she had snagged him in a bear trap, and dragging him off on a tour of a place he had seen plenty a time before.

From what you could tell, the troops, Lady Sansa and Baelish himself would be settling to eat noon supper after Lady Arryn was done dragging him around. After that, they would have a gap of free time to their leisure for a couple hours before they were dragged in for a celebration lasting most of the night- it would be too late to creep up on him then without being more intrusive than he would probably like- not that it bothered your crass soul. So you had a window of a couple hours between noon and sunset to find where he was going before he went there, and to catch him off guard.

You sat on the wall outside the main hall, thinking back to his savoured spots in your youth- he couldn't have changed that much, could he? He still seemed like the intelligent, musing little schemer you'd known him to be- in which case, you remembered a little dead end on the walls of the castle, covered by the architecture of the main tower so that despite it being so easily accessible, it was out of site and in the shade- rarely anyone had considered going there over the years so it had become a "secret" spot for the two of you- not to talk, or get up to no good, but to sit quietly, back to back, or side to side, staring and thinking. Sometimes you'd express your thoughts for hours- sometimes you'd both think it best not to say what was on your mind- for you, that was mostly because it had been him, most the time. You giggled at your own childhood crush, thinking of how quickly things like that subside- Although, he had grown to be even more handsome; a silver fox, somewhat, only a few years older than you always. You were at the peak of your younger adult days, and he was at the end of them.

The day rolled on, and you were right about his actions. You had tucked yourself away behind one of the low hanging infrastructures from the Vale's big tower, feet overhanging the edge of the castle wall, and hands gripping on to the overhanging piece for life as you waited for his arrival. There he was, his face more troubled than it had ever been in youth- but only slightly. He had always been planning for one thing or another, it made little difference to you if that thing was how to steal food from the kitchen and sell it to the orphans, or how to get a better grip on the iron throne's rungs of chaos.

You tried to make your actions as slight as possible. You slipped your feet back onto the ground, and slid the rest of your body down with it, not even scuffing the ground. Your approach took a few minutes- you had set it up all this way, and you needed it to be perfect. Slowly, quietly, you sucked a breath in and leaned up to his left ear, almost touching it with your hair blowing in the wind, and murmured in a husky, exaggerated voice,

"I've been expecting you, Lord-" He had jolted at the first words, and after freezing up momentarily, swung into action, unsheathing something from his belt with no hesitation in a swift Schlick and pushing you against the castle wall, knife held up against your throat with alarmed eyes.

His gaze fell upon your face- and a bit lower, but more in analysis of the person than their features, as far as you could tell. His chest had pressed against yours repeatedly in his quick, short breaths, emphasising the lack of space between you. His expression softened slightly, but he remained still, dagger against your throat, pushing you over the edge- despite the compromising position, you still choked out an awkward laugh, blushing, and smiled sheepishly at him.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he provided a chuckle nothing short of sinister, "Y/N- or is it Lady Y/N?" He teased, refusing to move now that he had the physical upper hand. You stared right back at him, just as cocky for the time being, "I still got the jump on you, Petyr." You prodded back a wide grin spreading across your face- it was hard to maintain your confidence and to keep the upper hand here, between his torso and a long way down, with his steadying breaths falling on your neck. His smirk in response made you shiver, and your confidence faltered,

"And look where we are now. You were playing with fire you know- I could have done a very bad thing to you had I not hesitated." His voice here seemed to be somewhat flirtatious- it was only now that you processed fully the tensions between you two, and your face grew hot from nerves.

"Look where we are now." You stuttered back, finding it difficult to keep your eyes locked with his, "Y-you know you can take the blade away from my neck and let me up now, I'm not about to kill you." You lightly jeered, and his playful triumph only spread further, "And why would I do that? I'm enjoying the view from this position- and it would be a shame to let go of my upper hand, wouldn't it?" He brought his other arm to press against the wall behind you, and slid it across to your waist, running his hand all the way down to your hip and savouring the look of shock that ripples across your face as he did so. A new feeling entered the atmosphere between you- when his eyes scanned over you this time, it was acknowledging more than just your presence, as though he were seeing you for the first time all over again, in a far, far different light.

In a single, deft movement, he brought the blade around to the back of your head, his hand cradling the nape of your neck whilst also still pressing the blade against it. He pushed himself forward in the heat of the moment and you found yourself locked between his sharp tongue tangoing with yours and the sharp edge holding you to- alluring, in a strange sense. You feel yourself growing in lust with every second passing with your childhood friend and yet you literally cannot resist your own temptations- he had you locked in, and wrapped around his little finger.

Finally, he pulled back, taking a few steps backwards, his eyes sweeping over your figure with a reignited lust- an infatuation, not love-

"I won this one, Lady Y/N." He purred, and you realised he was right- but couldn't protest as he walked off. You crossed your arms and watched him with irritation- your old childhood games had just been taken to a whole new level, and still he came out on top.

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