open | prompt five | ENDINGS

[wrens]

prompt five | E N D I N G S dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all.

 

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[usurp]

[ This is what Petyr Baelish remembers:

He remembers lying on his back upon the grass at Riverrun, the sun in his eyes and his fingers wound through those of a girl with red hair and the sort of warm gaze that could swallow you whole. They had made so many promises to each other, then. She had told him of the future she planned to live, and through each fantasy he had followed her, determined, at the very least, to simply stay in her shadow, to exist at the very fringes of the light that she seemed to cast. He had loved her that much, once upon a time.

He remembers Brandon's blade cutting through his flesh, the sun twinkling as his blood poured through his fingers and his legs buckled beneath him as easily as a house of cards.

He hadn't died, then, and neither had she.

When Petyr speaks, it's in an almost absent tone of voice (as close, at least, to absent as she has ever heard). ]

No. Never.