Petyr wasn't one to believe in soulmates, maybe long ago in the distant past when he hoped that Catelyn would be his; but now as he watched the patron of one of his brothels laugh and drink with the whores below, he no longer deemed the concept worthy of thought.

He had seen so many things, knew so many things, that a belief that the gods had created a woman that was meant to be his, and only his, and that he was meant to be hers, seemed a little far-fetched. The men that were drinking and fornicating in front of him must all have soulmates, yet here they were, enjoying the pleasures of the flesh with one of his girls, surly making the concept of belonging to only one person worthless.

Petyr looked at the soul mark on his wrist, the small design showed two crossed swords and an ancient manuscript, beautifully highlighted in what had always looked like the finest golden features in his skin. He had once spent a long time looking for a sigil that would correspond to his mark, hour after hour searching manuscripts for a house that would match it; but despite his best efforts he had always come up empty handed.

When he was young, he would wonder what his soulmate would be like; but as he had grown older and more world weary, he had more or less forgotten that there was a woman in the Seven Kingdoms that may have been looking for him all these years, a black mockingbird marked on her skin.

Covering up the mark he shook his head; he didn't have time to worry about a woman that may never show, he had more important things to do, and he wouldn't let anyone get in the way of his plans.

                                                             >>--------------------------------<<

(Y/n) didn't believe in soulmates, she had seen too many things, experienced the worst her world had to offer, and she was too battle hardened to imagine that there was a man that could love her, those thoughts were only meant for sweet ladies that had never had a sword in their hand.

She had been born the lady of a great house, far beyond the reaches of Westeros; she had been bought up a warrior, but also a scholar, her father believing that to be a good warrior you first needed a good mind, and that was what (Y/n) had. She had proved herself in politics and in war, an orator and a fighter; but as war had raged in her homeland, destroying her home, and killing her family, (Y/n) had been forced to make her way in the world as a simple sellsword, sometimes selling her literary services to those that could not read or write, for extra food, or a warm place to sleep.

She had killed too many other people's soulmates to believe that she deserved one of her own; how could a man look past what she had become, she was no longer a lady, just a hardened sword for sale to the highest bidder.

An old brother in arms had called on her, and as she made her way through Kings landing, she couldn't wait to see him again.

Bronn had always been a great friend, and a trusted colleague; they had fought side by side often, and when she had received his message, she had jumped at the chance to journey to the capital, to swap new war stories with the man she viewed as kin.

As she made her way to the meeting place, she couldn't help but notice the strange looks that the passers-by gave her; she never noticed the looks when on the battlefield, as those that stood by her side, or were under her command, would never dare comment on her unusual looks, not unless they wished retribution to be swift and deadly.

She was taller than most, and quite imposing. Through she was well built and strong from all the years of wielding a sword, she had still managed to maintain her feminine curves, not that anyone could tell under her armour and large coat. Like all the people of her homeland, her hair was a shade of the lightest grey, and her eyes a kaleidoscope of colours, that seemed to change from one moment to the next, causing her to be quite a unique beauty.

As she guided her horse to the brothel that Bronn had told her to meet him in, she couldn't help but smile at the dirty faced children that would stop their games of swords and shields to follow behind her horse, shouting out questions about the sword on the side of her saddle, or the large bow that was slung over her shoulders.

Pushing her way through the doors of the brothel, her eyes instantly fell on smug grin of her old friend.

"Why is it that every time we meet up, its always in a brothel?" (Y/n) chuckled, smiling at the man across from her as he motioned to one of the women to bring over more wine.

"Well I have to get ya laid somehow (Y/n). When was the last time ya got fucked, the last time ya had a man between your legs?" Bronn asked, grinning over the top of his glass, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Firstly, it's nice to see you too Bronn; secondly, that is none of your damn business; and thirdly, I would not be looking for a man in a place like this." (Y/n) said, smiling at her troublemaking friend.

"Ya can't tell me that ya still waiting on that damn soulmate of yours? Ya do know that ya never gonna find him don't ya; although this is Kings landing, you'd be surprised at what ya can find here." Bronn chuckled, looking up to where Petyr was sitting.

Bronn had seen the black mockingbird mark on (Y/n)'s arm many moons ago, but it wasn't until he had met Littlefingers that he put two and two together, and had come up with a plan to get the two to meet.

As Bronn and (Y/n) talked and laughed, Petyr couldn't help but notice the new friend that Bronn was with; he was used to seeing the sellsword in the company of the Lannister imp, but the woman that currently sat across from him was like nothing he had seen, and Petyr being Petyr needed to know who this new person in Kings landing was.

"Ah Bronn, how nice to see you." A smooth voice said, as Petyr came up along side the table at which (Y/n) and Bronn sat.

"It is unusual to see you here without lord Lannister, but I must say that your new friend is a big improvement." Petyr said, looking at (Y/n), his heart beating a little quicker as she smiled at him.

"Where are my manners." Bronn said, straightening himself in his chair.

"Lord Petyr Baelish, may I introduce my old friend, the Lady (Y/n) of the great house of warriors and scholars." Bronn announced, grinning widely at the pair.

"House of warriors and scholars?" Petyr asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looked at the smiling woman; he had never heard of such a thing before, and it was certainly nothing he had come across in his readings.

"My family comes from two clans, those of the warriors and the scholars; our people take our houses from our original clans. We are quite different from the people in the Seven Kingdoms." (Y/n) told Petyr, smiling even wider as he took her hand to kiss.

As Petyr kissed (Y/n)'s hand, the sleeve of her shirt fell away to reveal the soul mark on her wrist.

Petyr stared wide eyed at the mark, unable to believe what he was seeing, his dark heart murmuring into life as his fingers brushed over her wrist.

"And what might this be, my lady?" Petyr asked, trying to remain calm.

"Oh, my little mockingbird; quite beautiful, isn't he? It's my soul mark, it is just a shame that I will never meet its owner." (Y/n) said, smiling sadly as she looked up at the slightly shaken Petyr.

Petyr was struggling to understand what was happening, after all these years his soulmate was right in front of him and she obviously had no idea. Surly she was feeling the same as he was, surly she could feel her heart beat quicker. He was never like this, he was always in such control of himself, his surroundings, and the game, yet the mere proximity of this woman was doing things to his very soul.

"If I may ask my lady, what is the sigil of your house?" He asked, watching as her breath seemed to become short and sharp, her pupil's dilating as she took in his every feature.

"I-i-it is two crossed swords and an ancient manuscript." (Y/n) told him, as Petyr rolled up his sleeve and showed her the mark on his wrist.

"Like this?"

Suddenly (Y/n) stood up, knocking over the chair behind her, before racing for the door, slamming it behind her as she made her way into the night.

"This is my fault." Bronn said, quickly getting up from the table.

"I better go talk to er before she leaves."

Bronn made his way to the door to try and find (Y/n), he had not done this to hurt his old friend, but to find her the love she deserved, even if that love was a man like Petyr Baelish.

As he opened the door Petyr grabbed his hand. "We have to get her to stay; I'm coming with you."

As the two men searched, Bronn finally found her in the stables, trying to quickly resaddle her horse.

"(Y/n), where are ya goin? Ya just found ya soulmate and ya leaving? What's wrong with ya lass?" Bronn asked, watching as his friend spun around, her eyes flashing in a multitude of colours.

"You knew about this didn't you, you set me up? Don't you understand Bronn, I don't deserve a soulmate, I've killed too many to be loved. A lord like him wants a lady, a woman that can look good on his arm, that can grace his house, that will bare his children; I can be none of those things, do none of those things, it would be better for both of us that we had never met." (Y/n) said, as she mounted her horse, making for the stable doors.

"You may go if you wish my lady, I will not stop you; but first I think we should speak." Petyr said, stepping out into the doorway having heard everything that (Y/n) had said.

Petyr offered her his hand before taking her back inside and into his rooms, there he told her everything; things that he had never told another soul, yet he knew to keep her that he must confess that he too didn't deserve a soulmate, that he had used and hurt other people to get ahead, that he was a whoremonger, and a player of the ultimate game; but also telling her that he needed a woman to stand by his side and aid him in what he wanted to achieve, and what better woman than one that could not only fight but could also think.

"So, my lady, do you think that together we may learn that even we deserve to be loved?" Petyr asked, taking (Y/n)'s hand, and staring into her eyes.

"Maybe Petyr, but where do we begin?" (Y/n) asked, her eyes falling to their intertwined fingers.

"I am not sure myself, but maybe this is a good start." Petyr said, placing his hand under her chin and raising her face so that their lips could meet.

They may not have been the most obvious soulmates that the gods had ever decreed, but after all these years the Mockingbird and the warrior scholar finally had someone that would love them for them.