Thread: GoT - A Wolf and a Mockingbird (Miss Tris x Shadows)

My apologies if I made you wait, my lady. I had some last minute affairs to finish up, but came as quickly as I could. The voice of one Petyr Baelish called out in a cordial manner as he entered her chamber and took the liberty of closing the door behind him, as Littlefinger knew better then any just how careful one must be to an unwanted audience when it came to likely personal discussions. When she said nothing, the man simply waited, which he was no stranger to doing in this long game which hed played for so many years now. As he did so, however, the older male did try to get a read on the young Stark girl that hed come to have genuine feelings toward, despite how shamefully he had used her to further his own goals in the past. For once, Lord Baelish was the one struggling to make heads of what Sansa was playing at, but still he obeyed her unspoken command to approach once it was given. As she raised her hand, the older male had half expected her to slap him across the face, only to find those soft fingers instead stretching outward to stroke upon his cheek with surprising gentleness. There was little that would make Lord Baelish display even the smallest crack in his collected demeanor, but Sansa touch, especially after his past few attempts at closeness had been rebuked, was one of them. A light sharpening of his breath. A subtle dilation of his pupils. The way his head visibly struggled to not fully tilt itself into her hand as it explored his face. The hand of the one woman since her mother that had made Littlefinger feel anything close to what he felt at that very moment. How many times over the years had Petyr wished to feel Catelyns hand upon his face in such a manner? How long had he desired to feel Sansas own in its place? When Sansa drew her fingers away, it took everything within Lord Baelish to refrain from tilting his body forward into her escaping touch in the hopes of prolonging it for an additional brief instance of time, though his lips did betray him in parting ever so slightly when her thumb brushed over them. Still, standing this close to the older male, it likely wouldnt have been hard for a woman like Sansa, so clever now from dealing with a world that punished naivety and with an understanding of Littlefinger that few could grasp, to read his features for what he desired. No other woman would draw out such a subtle reaction from Lord Baelish. But Sansa? She, much like her mother before her, was something different. As the order came for him to kneel, there was only the briefest of pauses before the man lowered himself to one knee, with a softly spoken, As you wish, Lady Stark flowing from his lips before doing so. Kneeling as she had requested, Petyrs head was lowered toward her feet at first, as his eyes slowly closed and the inner workings of his mind pondered that question which he had shared with Sansa rather recently. After days of trying to avoid his presence whenever his services werent needed, she had now summoned him into her chambers. It was the type of scenario that undoubtedly spoke to a rather basic desire within most men, with Littlefinger being not an exception when it came to this particular young woman. But he was not a man solely ruled by his hungers. No, Lord Baelish was a smarter man then that. Thus, it wasnt simply an undeniable desire for Sansa Stark that would make the man obedient to whatever she had summoned him for. It was the fact that complying with whatever game she might have in mind could help to heal the rift between them. The rift that kept her away from what he saw as her rightful place at his side. Opening his eyes and raising them upward toward his lady, Petyr felt his heart quicken just a touch at the sight of her gazing down at the man on bent knee before her. It wasnt his first time kneeling before a lady of nobility, but unlike those other occasions, where it was purely for the benefit of furthering his own agenda, there was an unexpected flush of excitement at having the daughter of Catelyn Stark looking down upon him like so. Still, the older man maintained much of that normally hard to read demeanor of his, as he looked to Sansa and inquired, What can I do for you, my lady? A simple and expected question. Yet one spoken with the faintest hint of eagerness to be read within its tone at finding out what might be the answer.