The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Clegane Keep. The sept, in the Mountain's prayer room.

The Mountain sat on a stool, looking down at Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish.

He stared at Petyr until the usually calm and collected Petyr lost his composure, his hands shifting at least three times on the table.

The Mountain took out a glass vial and tossed it to Littlefinger.

Littlefinger caught it. Inside the vial was a red liquid – blood.

"What is this?" The Mountain asked in a deep voice.

His tone carried an overbearing pressure.

"If I'm not mistaken, it's a sample of my blood."

"Do you remember the night we met in the tavern?"

"Unforgettable!" Littlefinger's lips curled slightly, revealing a mischievous smile.

"You can still smile?"

"I always do, my lord."

"You're a dead man."

Littlefinger chuckled softly. "My lord, if you truly wanted to kill me, I wouldn't be sitting here before you now. Frankly, I don't understand why you brought me here. The acquisition price for the gold ore you wanted, I gave it exactly as you intended."

"I brought you here because something you possess has revealed your secrets."

"My blood?" Littlefinger feigned surprise. It was obviously an act, so fake it was laughable.

"From your blood, I know all your secrets."

Littlefinger laughed. "Ser Gregor, whatever you want me to do for your lord, just say it, and I'll do it. Let's get down to business, ser. You wouldn't have brought me to Clegane Keep for no reason, but you also won't kill me. So, let's talk."

The Mountain said calmly, "A blood mage learned all your secrets through your blood, and coincidentally, that blood mage is my grandmother."

A glint of mockery appeared in Littlefinger's grey-green eyes. He looked at the Mountain, as solid as a rock, and laughed, "My lord, let's get down to business, okay? No need to say anything else."

"Alright. You exploited Lysa Arryn's affection for you, instigating her to poison her husband, Lord Hand Jon Arryn; then, you had Lysa Arryn write a letter to her sister, Catelyn Tully, blaming Jon Arryn's death on the Lannister family of the Westerlands. Lysa's letter to Catelyn said that the Lannisters poisoned Jon Arryn."

Littlefinger's mocking smile instantly froze, and his face slowly turned ashen. Beads of sweat slowly oozed from his nose, forehead, and neck, completely beyond his control. His hands, placed on the table, had twisted together at some point, but he didn't even realize it.

Littlefinger stared at the Mountain, his inner defenses collapsing!

How could the Mountain know his carefully crafted scheme so clearly? He subconsciously looked at the glass vial clutched tightly in his palm. He had a deep impression of this vial. More than a month ago, one evening, in the tavern next to Tobho Mott's smithy, he met the Mountain and was pinned to the table by the Mountain's men, who forcibly pricked his fingertip and took a vial of his blood.

Later, in the throne room, Varys, the Spider, had specifically reminded him that some sorcerers could use a person's blood to cast curses, harming the blood's owner. At the time, he didn't take it to heart. The Seven Gods were no longer effective, and the sorcerers' spells had been failing for years. The Spider was just trying to see his frightened embarrassment, but he remained calm and composed, disappointing the Spider who wanted to see him afraid.

"Murdering Lord Hand Jon Arryn, you are the chief culprit; scheming to deceive the Stark family through Lysa Arryn, making them blame Jon Arryn's death on the Lannisters of the Westerlands, you are also the chief culprit. You see, do I know your secrets or not?"

Sweat began to drip from Littlefinger's nose. He clenched the glass vial in his hand, wiped sweat with the back of his hand, and his entire arm trembled slightly. His mind was buzzing, as if a thousand horses were galloping, but the Mountain's words easily pierced through the stampede, echoing clearly in his mind again and again.

"Littlefinger, if Tywin Lannister knew of your trickery, letting the Lannisters take the blame for murdering the Hand, causing war to break out between the North and the Westerlands, how do you think you would die?"

Littlefinger was usually quick-witted, but his mouth opened and closed without uttering a word. His throat seemed to be blocked with cotton, unable to breathe or speak.

The Mountain stood up, opened the wine cabinet, took out a bottle of wine and a wine glass, and poured half a glass. The wine was date-red, like blood: "Littlefinger, would you like a drink?"

Littlefinger released the small glass vial containing his blood, grabbed the wine glass, and drank it in one gulp. Then, he began to cough violently. His dark hair, already somewhat gray, was stuck to his forehead with sweat, making his face look even smaller. His eyes, which usually revealed shrewdness, became dazed and unfocused.

He was truly terrified!

He didn't want to die, let alone wish he were dead!

For Littlefinger, who was born into a small family with no influence, Tywin Lannister would kill him like a lion tearing apart a lamb, and easily destroy all traces of him. From then on, the Baelish family would no longer exist in this world.

Littlefinger was so frightened that he felt cold all over and began to tremble slightly!

He was afraid of death, and even more afraid of dying without having earned the status of a great noble for the Baelish family or leaving descendants for the family. Littlefinger was born in 268 AC, and he was exactly thirty years old this year.

In his panic, Littlefinger thought of his lover, Lysa Arryn.

Littlefinger's father, Lord Baelish, formed a friendship with Lord Hoster Tully during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. After the war, Lord Hoster Tully, out of respect for Lord Baelish, took Littlefinger as a ward.

Littlefinger grew up in Riverrun with the Duke's two daughters, Lysa Tully and Catelyn Tully. He fell deeply in love with the elder sister, Catelyn, while the younger sister, Lysa, fell deeply in love with him.

A poor boy from a territory only fit for sheep droppings, in love with the daughter of the Riverlands Duke? Littlefinger's status was too different from the Tully family. His nickname, Littlefinger, was first given to him in Riverrun by Lysa and Catelyn, stemming from his family's territory – the smallest and poorest peninsula on the Fingers, a peninsula with nothing but rocks: Littlefinger peninsula.

When Catelyn was betrothed to Brandon Stark, the heir to the North, Littlefinger dueled Brandon for Catelyn. At Catelyn's request, Brandon spared his life.

One night, Lysa took the initiative to enter Littlefinger's bedroom while he was drunk. Soon after, Lysa became pregnant. Lord Hoster Tully was furious when he found out. He tricked Lysa into drinking moon tea to abort the child and drove the ward Littlefinger out of Riverrun.

From then on, the only goal in Littlefinger's life was to become a truly great man.

To elevate his lowly class, Littlefinger craved power and status, wholeheartedly hoping to become a great noble. After Lysa Tully married Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Vale, he maintained a relationship with her. With Lysa's help, Littlefinger obtained the position of customs officer in Gulltown, a port city in the Vale. His talent for business became apparent at that time. In a very short period of time, he increased Gulltown's tax revenue tenfold. Therefore, Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Vale and Hand of the Seven Kingdoms, began to promote him repeatedly, until he finally became King Robert Baratheon's Master of Coin.

Although he was a high-ranking official in the Small Council, his territory was still Littlefinger peninsula on the Fingers. No matter how much money he made from running brothels, he was always called a Sheepshit Earl by those truly well-established nobles. – his territory was only fit for raising a few mountain goats that ate rock moss.

Just as Littlefinger's carefully planned events were unfolding one by one, the Mountain took his blood, and a blood mage saw through all his plans through his blood.

This matter was unbelievable. The secret that was impossible to leak was known by the Mountain. Littlefinger was truly terrified!

The Mountain calmly poured Littlefinger another glass of wine, and Littlefinger drank it in one gulp.

Littlefinger drank seven glasses of wine in a row before the purplish-blue color on his face gradually turned rosy.

The Mountain put away the wine bottle and glass, looking at him with a calm gaze.

Littlefinger raised his head, his cold sweat was gone, and the alcohol helped him to stare steadily into the Mountain's eyes.

"My lord, what do you want?" Littlefinger said.

This sentence fully proved that reason had returned to Littlefinger's mind.

"I want Tywin Lannister to sit on the Iron Throne," the Mountain said calmly, looking at the shocked Littlefinger.

Silence, the space was rarely quiet, as if there was no one in the room.

"It's difficult!" Littlefinger said. He finally knew that the Mountain was no longer the crude, slow-witted, headache-prone Mountain he knew.

"Help Tywin Lannister sit on the Iron Throne, and your reward will be the opportunity to become a true duke with land and military power, or, I will tell Tywin Lannister your conspiracy in its entirety. Choose for yourself."

Littlefinger stared at the Mountain, he found that he couldn't see through the Mountain at all. In the Mountain's eyes, he couldn't see desire, couldn't see dodging, couldn't see wisdom, couldn't see sharpness, he only saw a pair of ordinary eyes.

This made Littlefinger's back feel cold!

He didn't like people whose inner emotional changes could not be spied from their eyes. Tywin Lannister was such a person.

"What do you want me to do? My lord!"

"I will take you to see Tywin Lannister. My grandmother has already told the Duke that the Westerlands will go to war with the North, and you are the one who provoked the war. You have to admit this."

"No!" Littlefinger was startled and immediately refused, "Does the Duke already know about the incriminating letter I asked Lysa to write to Catelyn?"

"The Duke doesn't know about any of your conspiracies and tricks. The Duke only knows that you have done something unfavorable to the Lannister family in the Westerlands, and the prophesied war is related to you."

"Then how should I face the Duke, please teach me, my lord!"

"Tywin Lannister already knows about Cersei and Jaime's incest. After you see the Duke, you can tell the Duke that you once hinted this to Eddard Stark, and you speculate that Jon Arryn's death is also related to this."

"Cersei and Jaime poisoned Lord Hand Jon to prevent the incest from being exposed?" Littlefinger asked.

"Yes!"

The Mountain's intention was to use Cersei and Jaime's incest to help him cover up the truth.

"Then how can I save my life?"

"It's very simple, you can persuade Lysa Arryn to send troops to help the Westerlands deal with the North and the Riverlands. Tywin Lannister cannot defeat the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale at the same time. Your defection of the Vale and seizing the power of the Vale is a proposal that Tywin Lannister cannot refuse. Not only will the Duke not refuse, but he will also use his power to help you take the Vale."

Littlefinger Petyr Baelish looked at the Mountain for a long time, and he said softly, "You must not be the Mountain!"

"You are no longer Littlefinger either. Before I take you to see Tywin Lannister, you have to swear allegiance to me in front of the Seven Gods," the Mountain said. He clapped his hands three times, the door was pushed open, and a witch in a gray wizard's robe with disheveled hair and barefoot walked in, holding a black pointed object and a small glass vial.

The Mountain said lightly, "Littlefinger, my grandmother wants to take another vial of your blood. Your last vial of blood has been cursed, so it can't be used anymore. As long as your blood is in my hands, I can foresee anything you want to do, so don't play any tricks with me."

Thanks to book friend 'Dream·Grim Reaper's Sky' for the reward, thank you, handshake!