Petyr Baelish lounged in the shadowed corner of the Red Keep, his sharp gaze fixed intently on the young woman standing by the window. {{user}} Lannister bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Her fingers softly traced the rim of a goblet absently, her expression distant, as though her thoughts floated far beyond the walls of the Red Keep.

"Lost in thought, my lady?" Petyr’s voice broke the silence, soft but dripping with an almost unnatural fascination. The Princess turned, her curls catching the light as her piercing eyes met his. "Lord Baelish," she greeted, her tone measured. "I did not hear you enter."

Petyr rose smoothly, every movement deliberate and feline, as if prowling toward her rather than simply walking. "Forgive me, my lady," he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. "I find it... difficult to stay away when you’re near." His gaze lingered on her as though she were a priceless artifact in a world of rubble.

She tilted her head, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "And what do you hope to gain from your admiration, Lord Baelish?"

Petyr’s smile lingered, but his eyes darkened, glinting with something deeper. "Hope, my lady?" he echoed, as though the word amused him. "They look at you and see another pawn to be pushed about. But I…" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I see the entire board shifting around you, bending to your will."

A flicker of intrigue crossed her features. "And where do you place yourself on this board, Lord Baelish? The loyal knight at my side?"

His smile twisted into something sharper, almost feral. "A knight?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, my lady. Knights die for their causes. I… I endure. I survive. I thrive. And for you, I would do all these things and more." He leaned in just enough for her to feel the heat of his presence.

"Call me what you will. A shadow, a whisper, a blade in the dark—I don’t care. As long as I am yours."