From Westeros to Essos : The Crusader King

How many days has it been? Petyr didn't know anymore. The man who captured him, a brute who for some reason, despite his line of work, refused any and all of his attempts to buy the man's services.

Then again, he tried to do that back in King's Landing and failed miserably. Day after day, he tried, each time with more and more promises that would have made anyone cry out in happiness, not that he had ever planned to actually give whatever the sellsword asked as payment. And for the first time, ever since he stepped into the Capital, he made a fool out of himself by breaking his life-saving advice: Don't fight in the north or the south. Fight every battle, everywhere, always, in your mind. Everyone is your enemy. Everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening at once. Live that way and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something that you've seen before.

And he like a fool let himself be made into a pawn in someone else's game. The knight who came after his head must have been just a distraction to force him on the run, and from there he played right in the hands.

No matter what he would survive. For Cat, he has to. He has to save her from her barbaric husband whom she was forced to marry instead of him, her true love.

Just as Petyr was remembering Catelyn Stark's beautiful face, the door to his cell opened and the same familiar face of the man who caught him appeared making the ex-master of coin grimace.

"What can I do for you today, Ser?" He asked, after all, the man would at least tell him if today was the day he would die.

"For me nothing, Littlefinger. For my employer, everything."

When he said that, all of Petyr's fears were proven to be real. The sellsword did indeed work for someone, and that someone had the power and means to grant the man whatever wish he had for a simple sellsword to decline mountains of gold.

Without waiting for a response from him, the sellsword walked inside the cell, and for a split-second, Petyr thought about fighting back, only for him to remember his fight against Brandon Stark and how easily he had failed. With a heavy heart, he let himself be dragged out of the cell and outside on the deck.

At least it was a sunny day. Looking around the deck, he could see that almost all of the crew were outside preparing for what he believed to be his own execution or whatever the person who wanted him alive desired for him.

Watching all of this, Petyr began to panic as he realized he was being taken to the edge of the ship, where a wooden plank extended over the water. He knew what this meant. He was going to be forced to walk the plank and plunge into the sea, where he would find his demise either by drowning or by being eaten by sharks. And while he had heard stories of this cruel practice, Petyr never thought he would be the victim of it.

As he was forced to walk on the plank, he looked around desperately, hoping to find a way out of this situation and the first face he saw was that of the sellsword who caught him, smiling at him from across the deck. Beside him stood a tall Essosi woman, who he assumed was the captain of the ship, looking at him with what he could only describe as pity.

Despair took hold of him and he tried to appeal to them, using every little trick he could, every single promise from the iron throne to the best whore he owns. He offered them gold, lands, titles, and anything they wanted. Once he saw that he didn't get a reaction, Petyr switched his promises and began by telling them about his powerful friends in high places, who would reward them for sparing his life.

But in the end, none of his words seemed to have any effect. The sellsword and the captain ignored him, as did the rest of the crew. They seemed to have made up their minds, and nothing Petyr said could change them. Closing his eyes, he realized he had underestimated his enemies, and overestimated his own influence. He had played the Game of Thrones, thinking that he was Tywin Lannister, and now he had lost.

However just as he thought he would be forced to move forward, he felt himself being dragged back on the deck and forced on his knees. Petyr felt a glimmer of hope as he was pulled back from the edge of the plank. He thought maybe they had changed their minds, or maybe someone had intervened on his behalf. He thought maybe he still had a chance to escape this nightmare.

But his hope was quickly dashed when he saw the reason why they had stopped. He turned his head and looked up, and his blood froze in his veins. He saw a man standing on the deck, smiling at him with a cruel and mocking grin. He recognized him instantly. He was Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne, one of the most dangerous and unpredictable men in the Seven Kingdoms.

Petyr felt a surge of fear and confusion. What was Oberyn doing here? How did he find him? What did he want from him? Petyr realized that the ship had long docked in a port, but he had been too distracted to notice. He wondered where they were, and who else was waiting for him.

He tried to speak, to ask Oberyn what he was doing here, to beg for mercy, to offer a deal. But before he could utter a word, Oberyn spoke first.

"Hello, Littlefinger. Someone has been looking for you for a long time. You see, they have a bone to pick with you. A huge bone. Do you know who I am talking about?"

Petyr shook his head, hoping to feign ignorance. He had no idea what one of the princes of Dorne was talking about, but he knew it couldn't be good.

Seeing that, Oberyn smiled wider, showing his teeth as he leaned closer to Petyr, before whispering in his ear.

"Between the two of us, my lord, it's about a boy. A boy no older than eight. A boy who you wanted to kill for no crime, except being the son of your liege. I think this should be enough information for you to realize who I am talking about."

The moment he heard the prince's explanation, Petyr's already pale face went even whiter as he opened wide in fear. How did Oberyn know? How did he find out? How did he connect him to the plot to kill Konrad Arryn, the only heir of the Vale, so that he could take over the region once Jon Arryn died too? Put mayhaps there was still some hope, after all, Prince Oberyn had no reason to harm him when he was actually weakening the enemies of Dorne.

"Now, you might be wondering why I, Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne would have anything to do with this little scheme of yours, and to answer your doubts … I have none. I'm here because a certain boy you wanted dead asked me to be here as a witness, and like a good person, I obliged."

At least this didn't sound as bad as he thought it would be. Mayhaps there was still hope for him. But sadly, for Petyr what little hope he had left shattered the moment he saw a pale boy walking towards him. His red eyes seem to look right into his soul, making the Littlefinger drag himself back in fear, which sadly for him only resulted in him bumping into the legs of a towering man.

Petyr looked up and saw the face of the man he had bumped into. It was a man almost as tall as the mountain, but unlike the mountain, this giant looked more savage, almost like he came from the far North. His fear only increased as he realized he was trapped between two men who could easily end him

"Hello, Lord Baelish," The first spawn of Arryn said in a calm and polite tone as if he were greeting an old friend. "It's been a long time since we last met. Do you remember me?"

The lord of the smallest of the fingers felt a cold sweat on his forehead as he nodded weakly. He remembered the boy very well. He was the son of Jeyne Royce, a woman who had died to give birth to the first-born son of her husband. He had planned to kill the boy, by hiring sellswords to poison him, but somehow the assassins had failed and the boy had escaped. And moon by moon his assassins failed to kill the boy, instead he only seemed to have made the boy more mature than any child his age should been.

Before he could even say anything, the spawn opened his mouth.

"I see you do," Konrad continued, giving a ghost of a smile. "You know, I owe you a lot, Lord Baelish. You are the reason I am who I am today. You are the reason I had to leave my home and live as an exile. You are the reason I had to learn how to fight and survive in a harsh world. Now, while I should blame you, curse you, or even outright kill you for what had befallen on me, I can't bring myself to kill a defenseless man in cold blood. I could force a weapon in your hand and kill you then, but one single failed duel is enough of a disgrace on a man's honor."

Hearing what the damned demon was talking about, Petyr gritted his teeth, clearly realizing that the spawn was talking about that damned Stark who had almost killed him.

"You see, Lord Baelish, I have learned a lot during my travels. I have seen many lands, many cultures, and many religions. And among them, I have found one that speaks to me the most. It is the faith of a god who loves all his children, even the sinners. A god who teaches us to forgive our enemies, to turn the other cheek, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. A god who sent his only son to die for our sins, so that we may have eternal life. Do you know what this god is called, Lord Baelish?"

Petyr shook his head again, feeling more confused and terrified by the boy's words. He had never heard of such a god, nor did he care after all the boy sounded as mad as Lysa after giving her the daily dose of drugs.

"Well, he is called God, Lord Baelish—just God. Now shocking as it might sound, I have accepted him as my lord and Savior, and I have been baptized in his name. And you know what he commands me to do, Lord Baelish? He commands me to love you, to pray for you, to forgive you for all the evil you have done to me and my family. He commands me to spare your life, to let you go, to give you a chance to repent and be saved. He commands me to be merciful to the one who had sought to harm me."

Once again, Petyr felt a chill run down his spine as he heard the boy's words. He could not believe what he was hearing, after all, who could? The boy who he had wanted to kill, was someone so calm and kind, and forgiving. He could not understand how the boy could love him, when he had done nothing but hate him. He could not fathom how the boy could spare him when he had tried to kill him. Was the world so cruel to him for his enemies to feel bad for him?

"But you know what, Lord Baelish?" Konrad continued, his voice lowering slightly, as he closed his eyes and smiled fading slightly. "I am not God. I am not his son. I am not a saint. I am just a human. A flawed, imperfect, sinful human. And so, my good lord, I, Konrad Arryn, son of Jon Arryn, your liege lord, condemn you, Lord Petyr Baelish to death."

As soon as the sentence was given, Petyr felt himself being dragged away by the savage-looking man who had been guarding him. He tried to scream and beg for mercy, but his voice was drowned out by the cheers of the crew. In a last, desperate moment, he looked around, hoping to see someone who would help him. But almost as if the gods spoke, his world turned black, and then what he saw were the faces of people, the faces of those he had planned to be killed, but what hurt him the most was the beautiful face of his love. He saw Catelyn Stark, her throat slit by his own dagger. He saw Eddard Stark, his head severed resting at his feet. He saw Lysa Arryn, a fool of a woman, falling through the moon door. He saw a younger and more desirable version of his Cat, looking at him with pity. But what made him scream the most was his own severed head smiling as his flesh was slowly falling off his skull.

Then it came. He felt the heat of the fire as he was thrown into a large metal pot filled with water. In an instant, the water was scalding his skin, boiling his flesh, and burning his bones. He tried to scream again only for boiling water to get into his lungs, burning him from within.

He had played the game and lost and now he pays the price!

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