[ Even as she speaks, even as concession settles in the recesses of his heart, Petyr Baelish builds his walls back up again. (Old habits are hard to break and he has only survived by one alone.) She offers herself as his strength and he nearly balks. Dependence is an ugly word, codependence even more so. What does it mean but weakness, too easily exploited? (And what does it mean that she would offer herself at all?)
He can see pity in her eyes, pity and compassion, and as an ache blooms within her chest an unease blooms within his. He has never taken kindly to pity — what use has he for it? — even when Cat had begged for leniency from Brandon prior to their duel. It means a world of underestimation and low expectations, a lens through which the world has viewed him since his birth and which he has striven to shed for his entire life. (He can see pity in her eyes and he sees a contradiction in the way the she refuses to touch him. Am I so monstrous as that? Or do I seem so weak? He does not need an answer to the question.)
With each moment that passes, the mask settles more firmly in place, though whether it is Littlefinger or Petyr's face that regards her now, it is hard to say. It is a poor estimation of either, no matter which — an indication of exactly how close she had come to striking home. But this, this is his last defense. The mockingbird's song has kept him alive, has led him to prosper and thrive as nothing else has. This is what he knows. This is his armor and his sword, both. Not a salve, perhaps, but a way of preventing any further injury. (Whether or not the bird who wears that armor has bled out or remained in stasis, it is hard to tell.)
Petyr Baelish is not a Stark. Love does not live in his blood, not in the way it does in theirs. It has pricked him, left him to bleed, and led him to the edge of ruin. For that is what this is, is it not? ]
Then I shall find the path, [ he tells her, and even he is not sure if he means the words, ] and I will remain as long as you have need of me.
[ She does not say the words again, and the longer the silence persists, the more sure he is in his claim.
( ACTION )
He can see pity in her eyes, pity and compassion, and as an ache blooms within her chest an unease blooms within his. He has never taken kindly to pity — what use has he for it? — even when Cat had begged for leniency from Brandon prior to their duel. It means a world of underestimation and low expectations, a lens through which the world has viewed him since his birth and which he has striven to shed for his entire life. (He can see pity in her eyes and he sees a contradiction in the way the she refuses to touch him. Am I so monstrous as that? Or do I seem so weak? He does not need an answer to the question.)
With each moment that passes, the mask settles more firmly in place, though whether it is Littlefinger or Petyr's face that regards her now, it is hard to say. It is a poor estimation of either, no matter which — an indication of exactly how close she had come to striking home. But this, this is his last defense. The mockingbird's song has kept him alive, has led him to prosper and thrive as nothing else has. This is what he knows. This is his armor and his sword, both. Not a salve, perhaps, but a way of preventing any further injury. (Whether or not the bird who wears that armor has bled out or remained in stasis, it is hard to tell.)
Petyr Baelish is not a Stark. Love does not live in his blood, not in the way it does in theirs. It has pricked him, left him to bleed, and led him to the edge of ruin. For that is what this is, is it not? ]
Then I shall find the path, [ he tells her, and even he is not sure if he means the words, ] and I will remain as long as you have need of me.
[ She does not say the words again, and the longer the silence persists, the more sure he is in his claim.
You cannot mean that love for me. ]