Lockhart of The Kaleidoscope

Littlefinger's POV

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over King's Landing as the streets bustled with merchants, beggars, and the nobles that ruled over them all. But for Petyr Baelish, known to most as Littlefinger, the city was far more than just a thriving capital—it was a game board, and every person in it was a piece waiting to be moved.

He stood at the window of his modest but well-placed office, overlooking the narrow streets that twisted through Flea Bottom and up toward the Red Keep. This was where power played its most dangerous games, and few understood that better than Littlefinger. His fingers had quietly woven into the very fabric of the capital, pulling strings here and there, all while maintaining the mask of a harmless, soft-spoken man with little more than coin to his name.

But coin could buy power, and power was what Petyr Baelish craved above all else.

Today, however, his thoughts were not on the usual noble intrigue or courtly gossip. His attention had been captured by the arrival of a newcomer, a man who had slowly, but surely, begun to make waves among the highborn circles of King's Landing. A man who had reportedly made his fortune selling exotic and luxurious goods in Braavos and now sought to establish himself in the capital.

This man went by the name Gilderoy Lockhart.

Littlefinger had heard whispers of Lockhart before—rumors about his dealings with Mace Tyrell in the Reach and his alleged connections to the Iron Bank. It was said that Lockhart had introduced goods of such quality that even the wealthiest families of Westeros were vying for his attention. Littlefinger had no doubt that there was more to this merchant than met the eye.

And now, the man was here, in King's Landing, and it would only be a matter of time before their paths crossed.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Littlefinger turned, a slight smile playing on his lips as he called out, "Enter."

The door creaked open, and Lockhart himself stepped into the room, his appearance immaculate as always. His golden hair was perfectly groomed, and his robes—exquisitely tailored and gleaming with a foreign richness—stood out in stark contrast to the grim stone walls of King's Landing. He carried himself with an easy confidence, and his eyes sparkled with charm as they met Littlefinger's.

"Lord Baelish," Gilderoy greeted, his voice smooth, with just the right hint of formality. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

Petyr offered him a smile that was equally charming, if a touch more calculating. "How could I refuse? After all, it's not every day that a man of your reputation graces our fine city."

Lockhart chuckled as he made his way further into the room. "Oh, I'm not sure about that. My reputation tends to precede me in some less favorable ways as well."

Petyr gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Please, sit. I've been quite interested to hear of your success in Braavos and, more recently, your dealings with the Tyrells. It seems you've garnered quite the following."

Gilderoy sat gracefully, crossing one leg over the other, exuding casual confidence. "The Tyrells are a family with a taste for the finer things in life. I simply provide what they seek. I'd like to think that quality speaks for itself, and Highgarden has been a very profitable partner."

Petyr's smile widened, though his eyes remained sharp. "Indeed. And now, I hear you've come to King's Landing to share those 'finer things' with our own nobility."

Lockhart's smile mirrored Petyr's—a smile that spoke volumes without saying much at all. "King's Landing is, after all, the heart of the realm. And as the heart beats, so do its people. I believe that even the great houses of Westeros are not immune to the allure of... luxury."

"Luxury," Petyr repeated, leaning back slightly in his chair. "It's a powerful tool, especially in a city where appearances matter more than most are willing to admit."

Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "A tool, yes. But I find that in the right hands, luxury becomes more than just a tool. It becomes a weapon—one that can change the course of alliances, even kingdoms, if wielded properly."

Petyr's interest piqued. Lockhart wasn't just another merchant looking to line his pockets. No, there was ambition behind those polished words. Ambition that reminded Petyr of himself.

"You speak as if you've been wielding that weapon for some time now," Littlefinger said smoothly. "I wonder, then, what you truly seek here in King's Landing. It's not coin, I imagine. That, you could find easily enough in Braavos."

Gilderoy's smile didn't falter, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You're right, Lord Baelish. Coin is a means to an end, not the end itself. My ambitions stretch beyond gold and silver. I believe there's much to be gained in relationships—in understanding who holds power and how they choose to wield it."

Petyr's smile returned in full force. This was no mere merchant; this was a player. And that, above all, intrigued him.

"Relationships, you say," Petyr mused, his tone thoughtful. "You remind me of myself when I first came to King's Landing. The court can be a... fickle place. Power shifts as easily as the tides, and one must be careful which relationships they cultivate."

Lockhart inclined his head, his expression appreciative. "Wise words, my lord. And I suspect that's why you and I have much to discuss. After all, you've risen to your position through careful choices, no? I imagine you've cultivated more than a few relationships of your own."

Littlefinger studied him for a moment, weighing his next words carefully. "I have. And I find that the most profitable relationships are the ones that offer mutual benefit. You strike me as someone who understands that well."

"I do," Gilderoy replied smoothly. "Which is why I sought you out. I believe there's much we can do for each other."

Petyr steepled his fingers, leaning forward slightly. "Do tell."

Gilderoy's tone remained measured, but there was a hint of excitement beneath it. "King's Landing is filled with people who crave more than they have—whether it's power, status, or the means to impress their rivals. I offer something unique, something they cannot find anywhere else. But to navigate the complexities of this city... well, I believe your expertise could prove invaluable."

Petyr's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "And what would you offer me in return?"

Lockhart leaned back, his smile as charming as ever. "Access. Influence. The means to elevate your position even further. I have connections in Braavos—connections that could open doors for you in places you've only dreamed of. And, of course, a share of the profits from our mutual ventures."

Petyr chuckled softly. "I see. You've come well-prepared."

"I try to be," Gilderoy replied, his tone light but firm.

There was a pause as both men considered each other. Littlefinger knew ambition when he saw it, and Lockhart had it in spades. He could tell that the man was playing a long game, and that was something Petyr could appreciate. In many ways, they were alike—both outsiders, both willing to do whatever it took to rise in a world that didn't easily accept them.

After a moment, Petyr smiled once more. "You intrigue me, Master Lockhart. I believe we can come to an arrangement—something that will benefit us both."

Gilderoy's eyes sparkled, and he inclined his head in agreement. "I'm pleased to hear it, my lord. I look forward to our partnership."

As the conversation wound down and pleasantries were exchanged, Petyr watched Gilderoy leave his office, the merchant's easy confidence never faltering. When the door closed behind him, Petyr allowed himself a small, knowing smile.

Lockhart was a man to be watched—carefully. He had the charm and wit to win over the highborn, but Petyr knew there was more beneath the surface. The question was, how deep did that ambition run? And how could Petyr use it to his own advantage?

One thing was certain: King's Landing had just become a far more interesting place.