Bolton Rising Part 68 - Petyr and Alayne

Two months had passed and still no news had been heard regarding the Bastard of Bolton. All reports indicated Ramsay was seriously injured, but still had escaped alive from Roose Bolton's military compound with the aid of Gregor Clegane, the Mountain. It was only a matter of time when that Bastard would retaliate with cold​,​ calculated cruelty.

Petyr Baelish sighed and pushed the stack of documents in front of him aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose, too lost in thought to give his full attention to such business. Hiding one's personal wealth was always such a tricky matter. Reaching for a glass of wine, the Mockingbird swirled the dark red liquor, inhaling the deep aroma before having a final taste. He set the empty glass down and leaned back in his expensive leather office chair, turning around to stare out the huge paned glass windows over the night skyline.

His city glowed with life and radiance, where before it had been nothing but chaos and disorder. He smirked softly, interlacing his fingers, recalling fond memories. Oh, how he had thrived and risen through the ranks of office and politics in that mess. It had been a bloody affair, but the excitement of every personal victory had been worth it. It was a chess game filled with pieces he moved as he dictated from the shadows without anyone being the wiser.

His grey-green eyes searched the vast, expansive view and settled upon the Eyrie Tower in the distance, away from the sprawling downtown atmosphere. The tall, exquisite penthouse stood out like a beacon, glowing brightly in the darkness, calling him home. Alayne was there, waiting up for him no doubt, despite his earlier phone call home for her not to, but he would not return until morning. Petyr had felt something amiss between them for some time, and avoiding her delayed the confrontation he had no desire to address. He wasn't exactly sure how to begin, but distasteful suspicions creeping into his mind had become a nuisance and a distraction. He was no fool. It was his business to know what people wanted to hide the most.

Baelish rubbed the dull ache in his tightening chest, the burning slash traveling down his body from torso to pelvis. He breathed calmly, letting thoughts of losing Alayne fade away, feeling the pain subside along with his new jealously over the Hound. The way that hired Dog looked upon Alayne had changed, and his Little Bird no longer acted fearful around Sandor Clegane's ominous presence. They shared a secret communication Petyr no longer was included in, and Littlefinger never liked any situation he couldn't control.

After calling for the town car, Petyr put on his designer suit jacket, adjusting his silver cuff links and silk tie before heading downstairs, and walked through the busy nightclub with a cool bravado. Despite his troubled emotions, the Mockingbird still knew appearances were everything. He greeted wealthy customers and shook hands with people of influence, even posing for their self absorbed selfies, which would be online and spread across the globe the second after the flash faded. It was all a wonderful, operatic play with Petyr Baelish as the skilled director, manipulating the strings of these marionettes to do his bidding either now or later. Eventually, Littlefinger would get exactly what he wanted from each and every one of them before discarding his used playthings when they no longer served his purpose.


There was a feeling of turmoil within Alayne, which she could not quiet no matter how hard she tried. She stood on the penthouse balcony, looking out across the ​ ​glittering​​ city lights, her auburn hair blowing gently in the perpetual wind that always surrounded the Eyrie. Despite the stillness of the penthouse, she felt a restlessness that matched that of the persistent wind. She crossed her arms across her chest, as though to control the emotion that threatened to rise within her. Tears welled in her wide blue eyes, but she blinked them away. I will not cry again.

Although the penthouse was as quiet as a tomb, she knew that the Hound sat silent behind her, moving only now and then to raise a glass to his lips. She could feel his presence in the darkened flat, ever watchful, always her protector, he was never far from her side. His possession of her was palpable, she could feel his ownership of her draped around her shoulders like a heavy cloak. In her mind she turned to him and entered the flat, crossing the room to him. In reality she remained still, staring out into the night.

Alayne's eyes were drawn to the tallest building on the city's skyline. Petyr's offices were still brightly lit, and she knew that business continued there until the wee hours of the morning, and beyond. ​ Although the night was not cold, a sudden shiver came over her, ​​ ​and she felt the Mockingbird's keen eyes on her, as though he too, was watching her from only a few feet away. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away. Impossible. He could not see her from this distance any more than she could see him. And yet somehow, she knew he was watching, and that she was in his thoughts. Closing her eyes, Alayne breathed deeply. Come home to me. Please...


Petyr made his way out of the packed club slowly as one person after another called out for his attentions. Being a politician of importance and a beloved celebrity could be tiring for some, but the Mockingbird thrived on all the adoration. He smiled pleasantly and stroked egos, easily winning their favor, all the while listening, watching and learning everything he could glean off a person. When you know what a man wants, you know who he is, and how to move him.

Petyr strolled outside with a confident swagger and a satisfied smirk, heading for the car as his security force flanked him. "I see you're as popular as ever, Mr. Baelish," a sultry voice spoke from behind, one he easily recognized before even turning around to gaze upon Margaery Tyrell, the wealthiest heiress in the city. Her influential family was deeply involved in several agricultural companies, and more importantly, was a key contributor to all his political campaigns from the very beginning.

"Well this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Petyr stopped, watching openly as Margaery closed the distance between them, walking with an air of confidence and pure sex. Her exquisite blue evening dress and plunging neckline made several bystanders turn their heads as well and she flaunted her assets even more.

"Are you leaving so soon?" She placed her hand on his arm, pouting softly in a teasing manner. "I was hoping we could have a little chat over a bottle of wine. It's been so long since you've visited Highgarden. I was beginning to think you've forgotten me."

Petyr chuckled, his grey-green eyes vivid in the night. "No one could forget The Queen of high society my dear. You have been quite the talk of the town as of late." Littlefinger raised a curious brow, seeking her confirmation for the rumors he had heard. "Engagement?"

"Yes... to Renly Baratheon," Margaery replied with an air of indifference. "My Father and Grandmother insist upon the match. Old money marrying more old money and all that." She sighed, giving his arm a tender squeeze before letting go to fetch a cigarette from her dainty purse. "He has little interest in me as a woman. Everyone knows he has a secret lover. My family is crazy to expect such a marriage to last with the constant gossiping," she explained, holding the smoke to her inviting red lips while Petyr offered her a light, her brown eyes glistening with pent up tears.

"A marriage of convenience has its merits and you are not without your skills, Margaery. Am I to believe you will be a faithful wife with no fun on the side of your own?" Petyr gave a charming smile in response to the girl's practiced charade, glancing down at his watch. "Though I must say this performance is most impressive. Alas, I have pressing matters to attend to."

"Oh Petyr. You never play along with me! How unchivalrous." Margaery sighed, tossing her cigarette and snuffing out the tip with her high heel, exposing her leg through the high dress slit. "Very well. I will have your club all to myself. I'm not responsible for what happens!" She laughed sweetly, turning and walking away with a swing of her hips, disappearing past the entrance doors.


"Stay behind and make sure she doesn't get too wild in there, and then escort her safely home. I don't need the press here over a dead Tyrell," Baelish ordered one of his security men, before climbing into the car and heading home, where he found the penthouse still and quiet as a tomb. He walked towards the master bedroom, business jacket draped over an arm, and loosened his tie, removing the public mask before greeting his love. He found Alayne asleep on his side of the bed, curled around a pillow, the tv light flickering over her. "I'm home, Sweetling," he whispered softly, sitting down and brushing the girl's hair back to kiss her cheek with a minty caress.

Alayne's arms were around Petyr's neck pulling him close as her sleepy blue eyes blinked open, drinking him in. "There you are! I must have drifted off!" She kissed him softly, her lips skimming his smiling ones as she pulled herself out of sleep. "I've been waiting... I know you told me not to wait, but sometimes I just can't help it. I miss you."​

Settling back into the pillows, she looked up at her Mockingbird and was overcome by so much love that tears welled up in her eyes, causing them to shine an even brighter shade of blue. He was so handsome, she thought, and yet he looked so tired. Petyr worked too hard, she knew, but there was nothing that would stop him. Not even his recent hospitalization had put a damper on his drive to keep his empire moving forward. Nothing she could say would deter him from his endless hours of puppeteering, as he made all the little figures in his game dance like marionettes, doing his bidding. Alayne knew that very few people saw Petyr Baelish without his mask. His famous, knowing smile faded when he was at home with her, and underneath his public mask there was a man who no one else knew.

Reaching up to caress his cheek, she could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. She knew that people ​whisper​ed about their relationship. ​If only they knew, she thought. ​Petyr was older than she was, to be sure, and this was a source of great discussion among those who played the game. When Alayne's family had fallen from grace, it was Petyr who had taken her under his proverbial wing, and there were whispers that she, a girl who had nothing,​ was only using Petyr to help her climb to the top of the ladder. ​What they didn't know was that Alayne loved Petyr with all of her heart. The mere sight of him filled her with such joy that she felt like she was floating every time he entered the room. When she was in his arms she felt safe. He had, in fact, saved her, when the rest of the world had been content to watch her burn.

Petyr cupped Alayne's cheek, sliding his thumb across her soft skin to wipe a fresh tear away. "You seem to be crying more often lately. At first, I had wondered if perhaps you were pregnant and hormones were to blame. But I think you would have told me such happy news by now, so that can't be the case." He sighed with disappointment, rising from the bed as he slipped off his tie and tossed it into the hamper. "I know something is going on, Alayne. What is it that you are afraid to tell me?" Petyr pressed, returning his full attentions upon Alayne, his grey-green eyes watching and observing the girl's response. "Are you having second thoughts about marrying me after the attack at the hospital?"

Alayne sat up in the big bed, heart pounding, understanding that the moment had come. She had tried so hard to keep her emotions in check ever since that night in the hospital when Sandor Clegane had taken possession of her. It seemed impossible, and yet she did not love Petyr any less than she ever had. But there was no denying her feelings for the Hound. She could not hide from Petyr any longer.

"Petyr, no..." she began, pushing her tousled hair over her shoulder, her wide blue eyes locked with his. "I've never had a second thought regarding my marriage to you. I love you so, you need never doubt that. When you were in the hospital... when I saw you fall... I was so afraid that I was going to lose you." She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, reaching for a way to explain something even she didn't understand. "I always want to be with you, my love. Truly."

Alayne rose and crossed the room, placing a hand on Petyr's chest, needing to touch him. "I'm only afraid that I'll lose you if you know the truth, and I couldn't bear it. I just couldn't!" She gazed up at her man to see his handsome face without a hint of mirth, there was no twinkle in those grey-green eyes; they'd gone cold. "You own my heart, Petyr, but my soul... it's not my own. It belongs to someone else, and I don't know what to do." Alayne could no longer hold back the wave of emotion that had been rising inside her. Sinking to her knees before him, she covered her face with her hands and dissolved into tears.


Bolton Rising Part 67 - Gregor & Melly

As soon as Qyburn had arrived, Gregor watched the slight, older man with a wary eye has he tended to Ramsay Bolton's multiple injuries, administering more medication and sedatives to relieve the pain. The Mountain was surprised and amused the Bastard's pet, Arya, had been allowed to stay through the examination too. Ramsay's hand had been wrapped around the girl's small wrist like a steel jawed vise, refusing to be pried open from its prey, even as he fell into a deep sleep. Luckily, Damon had brought the naked pet a silk pink robe before the so called "doctor" could rake his own predatory gaze over her. Nothing about Qyburn made Gregor feel comfortable to be around the man's presence. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, but something always made the hair on his arm stand on end from Qyburn's creepy stained aura.

"Are you feeling cold?" Qyburn questioned with a mocking tone, poking and prodding at the Mountain's ribs. "Hmm... Nothing broken. Just deep bruising. I'll give you something for the swelling. As for the laceration on your arm, that's going to need stitching up. I'm sure you don't mind another scar."

"Whatever. Just get it done," Gregor growled impatiently, his anxiety growing the longer Qyburn's hands were touching him. "I've got somewhere to be." Clegane's mouth had gone dry, while his breathing quickened and his heart raced, and he was suddenly feeling lightheaded.

"You're quite tense. Would you like to be sedated while I finish the exam and patch you up?" Qyburn smiled with a flash of polished teeth, yet the grandfatherly wrinkles around his eyes did nothing to soften that cold assessing gaze.

"Fuck no." The Mountain clenched his jaw, fighting back the unexplainable fear making him want to bolt out of the room. "Slap a band-aid on it before I snap your pencil neck. I'll have my own woman sew it up later." Gregor glared, snatching a bottle of pain pills from the man's medical kit. "These will be more than enough. I don't need any of your new age science bullshit."

"As you wish. My services are always here if you change your mind." Qyburn chuckled softly, packing up and checking on Ramsay one more time before leaving, handing a bill to Damon as the Bastard Boy entered.

"If that creep comes back, don't leave Ramsay alone with him. Ever…" Gregor warned while putting on a clean shirt, not explaining further as Damon raised a questioning brow.

"Okay, sure thing." The Bastard Boy shrugged, trusting Gregor at his word. "Skinner is going to give you a lift home. He's waiting in the garage. I didn't think you'd be wanting to spend the night." Damon smirked, having overheard the impromptu phone sex along with Ramsay and Arya's vocal reunion.

"Don't be thinking about my woman that way unless you want to choke on your own balls." The Mountain walked past with a slight limp, giving Damon a threatening scowl before leaving and meeting up with Skinner. He bummed a cigarette off the Irish prick as they drove away, needing the nicotine to calm his rattled nerves. Afterwards, Clegane let the road lull him to sleep to avoid any more idle chit chat with the Bastard Boy.

Gregor awoke some time later to Skinner's whistling as the man parked the car and stared out the window. "Well, bloody fuck... Someone made an improper house call and broke your damn door, man. Busted the frame and everything. You ought to tell your lass duck tape is hardly a fix for such things."

"Did she call you about this?!" Gregor stormed out of the car before waiting for a reply, marching up the front steps, knocking the broken door over. "MELLY! WHERE ARE YOU, WOMAN?" the Mountain rumbled with emotion, ascending the staircase and noticing one of the dogs was missing as they eagerly barked and jumped around him.

When she heard the Mountain's deep voice bellowing through the house, she sprang to her feet and ran to the head of the stairs. She hesitated there, still frightened after the unexpected visit from her brother in law, the Hound. He'd shattered the door to the master suite, as well as the front door, and although she knew a locked door wouldn't keep Sandor Clegane out, she felt the need to take some kind of precautions. After taking a spare handgun from Gregor's gun safe, Melly had moved all of her necessities, iPhone, laptop and books, and locked herself in one of the spare bedrooms. With her toiletries in the attached bath, she emerged only to feed the dogs and prepare small meals for herself, which she brought back to eat in her locked room.

The sounds of excited dogs greeting their master reached her and she called out, "Gregor!" as she flew down to the landing, only to be met by her man and scooped up into his strong embrace. "Oh, by the Gods, you're really here!" she choked, wrapping herself around his huge frame and covering his face with tearful kisses.

Gregor buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. "Are you all right, girl?" he growled, running his hands over her body as he held her close. "What the fuck happened here?"

Melly pulled back, breathlessly, cupping his face between her hands and looking into his dark eyes. "Your brother was here," she answered. "The dogs went after him... he did a lot of damage, though. He killed Archer..." She paused, picturing the dead dog and trying to be strong, as Gregor's face registered concern, love and fury, all at once. "I'm all right, I promise."

"I'll fucking rip him inside out and gift you his spine!" the Mountain replied with a snap of the teeth, squeezing Melly tighter against him, overwhelmed with emotions at the thought of losing her. Gregor knew Sandor could have ended everything so easily, settled the score with his big brother and destroyed him completely by hurting the one thing he ever cared to love. "I should have been here... I'm sorry I took so long." The Mountain held Melly's beautiful face with large rough hands and took the girl's mouth with a deep kiss, craving the taste of her like an addict as he parted the seam of her soft lips with his tongue. Not bothering to move onward to the bedroom, Gregor leaned Melly against the staircase wall as the kissing grew more heated, yanking at the girl's pj tank top to expose her full breasts as her own hands pulled at his shirt.

He pulled away only for a moment to comply, leering at his half naked woman while tossing his shirt to the floor and ordering the dogs out the house. "I could eat you out for hours and my hunger would still not be satisfied." Clegane smirked, popping the button on his jeans free, a sizable erection clearly outlined by the tight material. "I need to bury myself inside you and never come out."

"Oh, my love..." Melly began to answer, but her voice broke into a sob. She'd been so frightened and so lost without him. Now he was here and her emotions were running wild. She shook all over with need for her man, but she couldn't help taking a moment to admire his hulking physique. He loomed over her, huge and muscled, smiling darkly as he pulled her close again. Reaching between them, she slipped her hand into his jeans and gripped his cock, rubbing him as his mouth covered hers. He growled into their kiss and she could feel the tears running down her cheeks while she nipped and sucked on his bottom lip.

The Mountain lifted her higher, pressing her against the wall and bending his neck to lick and suck at her jutting, pink nipples. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, hips grinding, with Gregor's rock hard erection pressing into her. The blood rushed through her veins, flooding her pleasure centers and she knew she was slick with moisture, ready for him. "Please, Gregor..." she gasped, grasping at his massive shoulders. "I want you in me, everywhere. Fuck me until you break me... I need you."

Clegane yanked his woman's soaked panties to the side and guided Melly's pink slick folds over the head of his cock, letting gravity slowly ease her over the bulbous head. The Mountain groaned at the tight entrance giving way, with a slight thrust upwards he wedged himself further, biting into the soft flesh of the girl's breast as she cried out. Yet his cock throbbed for more sweet friction, and pumping his wider hips forward, Gregor spread Melly's legs over the crooks of his arms, cradling her against his body as he fucked her deeply. With her small hands interlocked behind his thick neck, they stared into each other's eyes, feeling one another as man and woman in the throes of passion.

It hurt as Gregor entered her, as it always did. He was so big and she loved that acute burn as her body stretched to welcome him. As the burn faded, it was replaced by deep pleasure as he began to move within her, filling her. Melly ran her hands over his short, cropped hair and savored the feel of him. The friction of their bodies, his teeth on her skin, the familiar smell of him caused her emotions to soar out of control. Stronger still was the feeling of completeness that he gave her. This was where she belonged. She could not stop looking into his eyes. She wanted to tell him that he made her whole, but she didn't need to speak. She could read in the intensity of his gaze that he knew.

With a rumbling groan, Gregor slid Melly fully upon his cock, that thick length thrumming inside her clenching sheath as her wet cunt kissed his aching balls. He carried her up the final steps of the staircase and into master bedroom, frowning at the busted door there as well, before placing her bent over the bed at the waist. The Mountain stared with desire at her firm upturned ass, ruined panties around her knees, while Melly's fingers grasped onto the bed sheets, knowing her man was going to fuck her senseless. "Whenever I'm away, I dream of coming home to this..." Clegane spoke with a heated voice, running his large hand up the girl's naked back, grasping a fistful of soft hair for a tether. He moved in from behind and speared his engorged dick back inside, yanking on Melly's hair to arch her supple body. Gregor took Melly hard, rocking the huge four post bed against the wall with ease, restraining her movements as the Mountain unleashed its fury, soaking up the girl's bittersweet cries.

"I'll always be waiting for you... I belong to you," she gasped. It was all she could do to brace herself against Gregor's brutal onslaught. Her body was fully at his mercy, and she never wanted him to stop. All the pain was gone now, only pleasure remained. Melly understood that her helplessness only aroused him further; his every thrust seemed to push deeper and deeper within her, molding her to sheathe him perfectly. The friction of his erection moving against her inner walls stoked the ever increasing heat within her, causing Melly to whimper as the fire began to consume her. Gregor's pelvis slammed against her ass again and again and she could feel every inch of him. The head of his cock bruised her cervix, as her body tightened further around his embedded shaft, her frenzied cries urging him on.

The Mountain's hot seed rose to the apex of his shaft, as he drove into Melly to the hilt with a final punishing thrust, gritting his teeth as he came hard. He felt the dark beast inside him clawing to be set free as the hapless female pinned under him squirmed and climaxed around Gregor's embedded cock. Something about this vulnerable prey always excited the darkest corners of the predator's mind, lusting not only to penetrate the girl, but break her apart as well. 'Back off! She's fucking MINE,' Gregor snapped, resisting the temptation to give in as he pulled out and lifted Melly's limp body into his arms, taking them both onto the bed fully. "I don't ever want to hurt you..." he whispered, holding Melly close to his chest, before lifting her chin to catch her gaze. "But sometimes I'm afraid of losing control. I'm not a good man."

Sated and weak, slipping an arm around his neck, Melly looked into Gregor's eyes and reached up to stroke his rough, stubbled cheek. "Oh no, I know you're wrong about that." She was so overcome with love for this man, she couldn't find the words for a moment. She had thought she'd never see him again, that he'd been on a suicide mission to save Ramsay, and that she would, once again, be alone in the world. "You saved me," she began, kissing his lips ever so softly, before continuing. "Taking me away that night could have ruined your life, your livelihood, your friendship, and still you saved me. No matter what thoughts or urges you might have, I know you'll never hurt me." She kissed his lips again and smiled. "You are the best man I've ever known."

Gregor chuckled against her lips at that, while his big hand smacked Melly's ass and gave the hot sting a teasing squeeze. "You haven't been around good men to begin with so I can see why you would think that of me." The Mountain smirked, rolling over and trapping his little doe under him, rocking against her wet cunt with a renewed arousal as Melly gasped in surprise. "But you knew what was coming home... and you're as eager for it as I am to give it." Gregor took his woman again and several more times through the night, pushing her limits, knowing she craved to fulfill his needs as much as he longed to please hers.

When the morning sun began shining through the bedroom drapes the next day, Melly was lying serenely over his chest, and a dog was draped over his legs, while the rest of the pack slept all over the floor. In the peaceful scene, Clegane gently stroked his woman's hair, yet his dark eyes were focused upon the broken door, staring intently with a cold gaze, his free hand clenching into a fist.