#Because while the Lion cannot do much without the order/wish of the dungeon lord.

[villain-in-love]

I am of the opinion that Thistle is probably the most successful and competent dungeon lord in history - managing to hold this position for 1000 years is already wild, but there are many other elements in which he is better than the other dungeon lords we saw. But what stands out to me, and what must be one of the main reasons he managed to do all that, is his unusual relationship with the demon.

I mean, just look at how other former dungeon lords talk about the demon:

And then there's Thistle:

Funny how Thistle's paranoia and autocratic tendencies, which are normally his vices, helped saving him from meeting his end in Lion's jaws. Well, at least until a bunch of idiots barged into his house and freed this abomination he had sealed away for good.

Anyways, I wonder why does he seem to be the only one who didn't give in to the demon's manipulations? Especially since knowing not to trust the demon from the start is not enough – Laios fell for the Lion's manipulation in just one conversation.

Maybe that gentle love and understanding demon was trying to give him was rejected because Thistle only ever wanted that from his adopted family, especially Delgal? Or is it because of the nature of his desires? Mithrun did put Thistle in the "epic" tier regarding the complexity of the desires. The other thing is that Thistle's desires are remarkably selfless and have more to do with what he wants to give other people and not what he wants for himself.

Or maybe he's really just so paranoid and hates other people getting in his business so much that even Winged Lion's influence was too weak in comparison.

Also. Look at Thistle with his hair down:

He's gorgeous (and stressed out).

[megsironthrone]

Obsessed

When Petyr Baelish becomes unnaturally obsessed with the reader, he will stop at nothing to have her. 

So, I’ve been a lot of research into the minds of criminals for my novel and from that, this fic was born. I do not own Petyr Baelish. He belongs to George R.R.Martin. 

WARNINGS: OBSESSION! JEALOUSY! KIDNAPPING! ATTEMPTED MURDER! STALKING OF A SORT! MANIPULATION! AND ASSAULT(WHAT COULD BE CONSIDERED ABUSE) PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! Oh and it’s long. 

Pairings/Characters: Yandere!Petyr Baelish x fem!reader, Ros

Petyr glared from his window of the brothel. You were passing through once again, but that’s not why he was glaring. No, it was the person you were with. Petyr didn’t want to see you with anyone else. He wanted you to be his and his alone. He wasn’t sure when this obsession began but he knew he had to have you. You were going to be his. No matter what.

         Petyr left the window, already plotting his next move in his head. He swept passed the whores he employed and their patrons. He had one goal in mind. Outside the brothel, Petyr let his careful gaze search for his prey. He found you quickly and almost smiled. Until he saw Jory Cassel place a kiss to your cheek. The sudden surge of jealousy that coursed through Petyr was too much. He had to do something and fast. But what?

         The brothel keep knew he couldn’t attack Jory right there without provocation. That would only lead to Ned Stark having him beheaded or thrown in the dungeons. If that happened, you’d be lost to him forever, just like Catelyn. He had to play this one smart. Get Jory away from you without casting suspicions on himself. A smirk grew on his face as a plan formed in his mind. He knew just what to do; he only needed to bide his time.

         He wouldn’t have to wait long. When Ned started asking around about Robert’s bastards and Catelyn had taken Tyrion Lannister prisoner, Petyr got his chance. He would use Jaime Lannister and the gold cloaks to rid himself of Jory Cassel and take you for his own.

*time skip*

         Just as Petyr predicted, Jaime took care of Jory Cassel for him. The Stark’s guard was now dead and Petyr was free to pursue you. Except you wanted nothing to do with him. When news of Jory’s death had reached you, you shut yourself away from the world. You refused to see anyone except Ned and his daughters and Petyr was getting impatient. There was only one course of action left. He was going to take you whether you wanted to come or not.

         "Just bring her to me, Ros,“ he ordered the redhead and continued, "Bring her to me, unharmed, and you will only have the finest patrons from now on.” Ros simply nodded and went on her way. She knew better than to argue with him. He helped her rise from the whore of Winterfell to one of the most sought after companions in King’s Landing. She would always do what he said.

         Ros returned a few moments later, with you in her arms. The glare on Petyr’s face was enough to kill. “What. Happened?” he seethed. He was quickly losing control, seeing you unconscious like that. “We were set upon by a few gold cloaks, milord. They hit her hard before I could stop them.” Petyr wasted no time in taking you from Ros and carrying you to his chambers. You would rest there for now.

         "What’s so important about her?“ Ros asked, having followed Petyr. Petyr whirled on the whore and grabbed her throat. "I told you to bring her to me unharmed, Ros.” Ros tried to explain again, but Petyr let her go and shooed her away. “Out. I wish not to be disturbed for the rest of the night.” Ros didn’t have to be told twice.

         Petyr turned back to you and sat next to you on the bed. He ran his fingers over your face and through your hair. He took his time memorizing your features so that, even when he wasn’t with you, he could still see your face clearly. Not that he’d be away from you often anymore. He had you where he wanted you and that was where he would keep you from now on.

         Surprisingly, it didn’t take you long to wake up. A slight groan made Petyr put some distance between you. He didn’t want to scare you right away. Your (e/c) eyes opened slightly. “Where am I?” you whispered. Petyr cleared his throat. “You are in my establishment, my dear Y/N.” You blinked as you moved to sit up. “How did I get here?” Petyr took a moment to decide what to say. Should he make himself out to be a hero? Or should he tell you at least part of the truth of what happened? He wouldn’t get the chance to make a choice.

         "Wait. That redhead I was with. Ros? She’s one of your girls! Y-You…" you trailed off, giving Petyr a chance to take back the upper hand. “She is. I sent her to you as a friend. I heard what happened to Jory Cassel and wanted to know that you were alright.” Your eyes narrowed.

         "I don’t believe you, Lord Baelish. You never do anything for anyone unless it benefits you. You had her kidnap me!“ you cried, jumping up. It was obvious to Petyr that your head was still swimming when you swayed and plopped back down on the bed. "I assure, Y/N, that I care only for your well being,” Petyr cooed, his voice akin to honey. You glared again.          

         "I. Don’t. Believe. You,“ you said again, putting emphasis on every word, "You’re a snake, Littlefinger. You’ve always been a snake.” You stood again on steadier feet and made for the door. Petyr’s hand shot out as he grabbed your wrist. You looked at him with pure venom in your eyes. “Let me go.” You wrenched your hand out of his and tried the door. Locked.

         Petyr’s smile was predatory as you turned to face him. “You will let me out. NOW!” Petyr stalked toward you. You could only compare him to a lion stalking its prey. “You are safer here than in the Keep, Y/N. I have the means and power to protect you now that Jory cannot. Don’t you think he would want you protected?”

         Realization dawned on you. Petyr could see it in your expression. “It was you. You had him killed.” Petyr was standing right in front of you now. Your back was pressed into the locked door as tears formed in your eyes. “You monster,” you whispered. Petyr chuckled. “There are much worse than I that deserve to be called monster, Y/N. I simply wish to protect you. I couldn’t do that with Jory in the way.”

         "Let me go. Please,“ you whimpered. Petyr shushed you while reaching out to tuck a strand of (h/c) hair behind your ear. He leaned in and whispered, "You cannot leave. I won’t let you.” He could feel you shaking so he was surprised when he felt himself being pushed away. Your hand came up and slapped him across the cheek. “I demand you let me go this instant!”

         When Petyr denied you again, you flew at him. You attacked him with every ounce of strength you possessed. With every hit you demanded that he let you go. Petyr finally caught both your wrists in his hands, stilling your movements. His eyes were flashing with rage; a rage that only you had been able to bring out of him. “This is your last chance, Y/N. You will obey.” Shrieking at the top of your lungs, you brought a knee up into his stomach. He let you go and you turned tail.

         You barely made it back to the door when you felt his hand come around your throat. He pulled you away from the door and practically threw you on the bed. He stood over you, panting and enjoying the fear in your eyes. Fear made people listen. Fear made people obey. “You’re mine, Y/N. I have made it so.” You shook your head in defiance.

         "I will never be yours. This obsession of yours is sick.“ Petyr stared down at you for a moment. Didn’t you understand? Why were you being so uncooperative? But what you said next completely made him lose control. "I cannot wait to see them behead you for this. You’re mad!”

         Once more, Petyr’s hand made it way to your throat. If you wouldn’t be his, you wouldn’t be anyone’s. After a moment, however, he decided he couldn’t look at your face. He grabbed a pillow and placed it over your face. You thrashed and tried to call out for help. Petyr simple held you still. He wasn’t going to let you leave alive.

         When you had stopped fighting Petyr began to lift the pillow just as the door burst open and Petyr felt himself being dragged off of you. To his surprise, it was Ros that approached you. She leaned over you and whispered something that Petyr couldn’t hear. He was too busy fighting off the guards holding him and screaming at Ros about how she betrayed him.

         "The girl?“ one of the guards asked when Petyr quieted down. Ros shook her head. "I-I don’t know. She’s not breathing.” Another guard scooped you up in his arms and carried you out of the room, prompting Petyr to start crying out again. He continued to call out your name as he was escorted to the dungeons of the Red Keep.

         Petyr had no clue how long he was down there. Long enough to start hallucinating. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured your face. He saw you accepting him. He saw kisses and caresses. He heard your voice. He could smell your unique scent. It was intoxicating to him, but he knew it wasn’t real because he couldn’t reach out an hold you.

         "Littlefinger,“ a sharp voice cried, snapping out of his latest fantasy, "You got a visitor.” Petyr arched a brow. No one ever visited him. He looked up and, through the bars, he could see the face he’d been dying to touch. “Y/N,” he whispered as he got up to move closer. He was stopped by the chain attached to his ankle. “They’ve decided to execute you tomorrow,” you told him. There was not one bit of emotion in your voice as you said it.

         "At your behest, I imagine.“ You held your head high. "Oh, Y/N, you look so radiant. So powerful. It’s why I chose you.” You didn’t respond the way he wanted. “I merely came to tell you that I will be standing there watching when the sword comes down on your neck, Littlefinger. I will watch as they take your head and after that? I shall never think of you again. Your memory will fade from my mind and then I will think on this no more.” With that, you turned on your heel and left him alone again.

         Petyr watched you go, a smirk on his face. He would find a away to escape his fate, as he had done many times before. And when he did, he would take you again. He would take you as far from King’s Landing, from Westeros, as he could. You would be his in the end. It was only a matter of time. After, when Petyr Baelish became obsessed, he never rested until he got what he wanted.