Being a girl from the North, you had grown acclimatised to it's conditions- and its people. Which is why it was blindingly obvious when there were strangers in town-
You would think that you would know all the local people in such a free place- but if you thought that you either had a bloody good memory or were too cocky for your own good.
Sure, maybe that was the case in the little villages here and there, even large towns- but you? You lived in Winterfell. No Stark yourself, but you swore yourself loyally to them, and you meant it.
But, back to recognition. How do you recognise those who aren't from Winterfell itself? Those on the outskirts and the villages in the north, they had this awestruck look in their eyes when they stepped in the gates, no matter how many times they'd been- it showed pride and showed wonder.
The people from too far North, heading towards The Wall, from The Wall... or from further than that- well, they acted like it was hot, they usually had far, far too much snow on their shoulders and they treated everything with caution.
And those from down South were frozen by the chilly climates and squinted against the blistering winds-
and their clothes were usually rich with colour and not suited to the conditions.
You knew most the people in Winterfell, which was a rare talent- but you were a rare person, you liked to watch people, closely or not, and were better at distinguishing the inner motives of a person by their actions than most, if not all of those who resided around you.
So, you weren't exactly trusted by many people. Any person might have thought that such talents would be praised, adored, respected-
Not in Winterfell. Things were different here- a long time ago, when Ned Stark was around, people might have cared a little less-
But Winterfell belonged to Bruce Bolton and his son, Ramsay 'The Cruel' as you had mentally nicknamed him. The Boltons were untrusted and people that could read others like their favourite book, people that were quiet and preferred watching- people like you- were not trusted.
It was nice to know Sansa Stark might be marrying Ramsay, maybe he'd grow softer with a true Stark by his side.
Probably not.
When you saw Lord Petyr Baelish, having never met him before- you were annoyed. Firstly, because though you knew he was not from Winterfell, he acted like he was and he seemed to fit in perfectly- he was certainly not out of place. Sure, his clothes were rich- but rich in a Winterfell way, too. A black robe, the only thing that caught your eye was the Mockingbird pin- the pin of house Arryn.
But so what? Stark Kids wore Lannister badges and had Stags for teddies. Many people now native to Winterfell came from all over, came from all kinds of houses.
You just knew he wasn't from around here, you weren't quite sure why- he just... Caught your eye. I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed him before, considering he looks so- You blushed at the thoughts that brandished them self in your head and realised he was looking at you as you were staring at him-
That didn't look too good, you imagined, so you decided to play one of your little tricks- this one you usually used if you waved at the wrong person, or if you were following someone-
You shuffled a few metres to the side in hope there was a guard or anyone behind him, as far off as he was-
But to no avail.
You noticed him smirk- he appeared to understand what you were doing, and was starting to descend a few wooden stairs from where he was far off- so you went for plan B- you didn't want to get into conversation with him so you vaulted the little platform you were standing on into the crowds of people below and began making your way for the main exit of this courtyard.
The people around you weren't hard to navigate as you slipped your way through, sure he'd be thrown about in the crowds as he made it towards you- he probably thought you liked him, or something, which wasn't true, right?
Finally you made your way out of the gates only to come face to face with him, frustrated and shocked he managed to make it out first, let alone know you'd head that way-
Though, considering it, it was quite obvious.
"Greetings, Ma'am." He spoke, and you knew you'd have to reply, so you turned to him, smiling in such a way your other emotions didn't show, and tilting your head, "Greetings, My Lord." You replied just as quick, gathering his background from the last few minutes of...ah...- staring at him.
"You were rather quick to pick that up, just as quick as you were to leap from the wall after staring at your dear friend, ah- the wall of the keep behind me." He countered slyly- this was a word battle and he had just struck a strong blow, that could be defended only by a weak parry,
"Apologies, I thought I saw my friend, he said he'd be around. But I figured he wasn't coming, and so I decided to go find him- which is what I'm doing right now." You were about to bid farewell to him, but he quickly slipped in with another blow that completely knocked your party aside,
"Ah? Excuse me for the probing, but you didn't seem to be looking around for him. Just doing a lot of staring- at the wall, of course. I'm sure, thinking about it- I saw you earlier, too. Well, an educated guess might say you were following me. Any reason for that?" He questioned, his wry smile curling up to the side of his mouth.
That had been a hard enough hit to make you lose control of your emotions, and you blushed, but still didn't want to give away either one of your trains of thought, so you replied, "...You, came with the Lady Stark. She means a lot to this keep, and I wanted to ensure she was in good company." Yourself you thought that might be a noble enough reason to pass his sensors, but his little smile only increased,
"Shame."
"Pardon, my Lord?"
"I thought you were doing well as a liar but it appears you've lost your nerve. I wonder why." He smirked, and you knew you may as well have dropped whatever verbal sword you held there and then,
"I'll be seeing you soon, N/A." He finished, and you frozen as he kissed you on the cheek, then lifted your hand and did the same after giving you a smug look, and walked off. Your hand froze in the air until you were given strange looks, to which you turned to look at him leave, suddenly panicking and far more curious than you should have been-
How did he know your name?
So you followed him. You managed to keep hidden in crowds until you reached a less walked area of town, to which you had to weave behind and around buildings, posts, anything- always keeping him in sight.
Eventually he stepped into a cottage and you looked down at your belt, your hand running along the nicely carved handle of your hunter's knife, then your eyes saw the window by the door, and you glanced in-
He was alone, and facing the other way.
You burst in, knife pointed forward-
but he was gone. You frowned- this was unexpected. Did he-
Before you finished the thought, you felt the gentle press of metal against the back of your neck, and your eyes widened, "Come now, let's not be childish- put the knife on the table in front of you." You heard his voice, extremely familiar to you, speak, clearly at arms length from your back.
You thrust the knife onto the table, hands falling beside you, "How did you know that I..." You began, trailing off,
"It was a little obvious. Not just by human nature, but by the fact that, well- you're not as smart as you think you are. Well, you are, but..." You heard a few steps and closed your eyes in partial fear as you felt a few cold breaths on the back of your neck, and the voice closer now,
"I'm smarter." He purred, and you heard the joy in his voice at successfully tormenting you.
However, you let out a breath you were unaware that you'd been holding as the blade pulled away from your neck and he stepped in front of you, bowing his head in a mocking manner, not bothering to hide the cocky grin on his face. You'd soon put an end to that.
You felt the sharp point of one of the throwing knives fastened to your leg, and quickly pulled it out with a swift movement, prodding it against the centre of his throat and grabbing his knife hand, pinning that behind his back, "Knock that smile off your face, it might be the death of you." You coldly responded, face serious, but blushing at the close proximity.
His eyes flickered down to the knife, but he seemed to give it a rather uncaring glance as he looked back, giving you a smug grin and beginning to lean forward- if you kept the knife where it was, he'd find himself impaled upon it. You kept it sturdy at first, but eventually kept pulling it back to release the pressure from his throat until you realised that his face was only a few metres from yours, "Will it really?" Was his response, and all you could do was give him and uncertain look-
Before you realised that he had another free hand, one which took his knife from the non-free arm so once again it was pressed against the back of your neck, "My games don't usually get so violent-" he began, then looked down at your feet and back to your face, noticing the space himself, "or tense." He added, before pressing his lips against yours and dropping the knife arm.
You're eyes grew wide and your face heated but you kept still- this was a game, he said so himself- so you wouldn't let him win. You crossed your arms, and he pulled back from the unreturned kiss, confusion almost twitching upon his face before he realised you were playing him at his own game, "I don't have all day." You smirked, but the redness in your face was enough to tell him what you thought, and he watched as you walked out.
You waited until you'd left that part of town before falling against the side of a house and groaning with defeat into your own jumper, scolding yourself for not hiding your emotions better. But your face firmed after a few minutes-
He wanted a game? He'd get one. You just needed to prepare for it first.