On the Road

Lysa Tully regretted digging her nails into Petyr as soon as she did it. She felt a little sorry for him, yet resented him for ignoring her, and could only ask stiffly, "What are you thinking about?"

Petyr thought nothing of it. He squeezed Lysa's hand and said gently, "I was wondering what gifts I should prepare for the duke and you if there's going to be a celebration soon."

Lysa was delighted, but pretended not to care. "What celebration? It's just House Stark of the North and House Baratheon of the Stormlands coming to visit. It has nothing to do with you, and you don't need to prepare anything."

House Stark and House Baratheon were coming to Riverrun? Petyr was rather puzzled. Were they planning an alliance?

Lyanna Stark was supposedly already betrothed to Robert Baratheon. But what were they coming to Riverrun for?

Seeing Petyr's attention wander again, Lysa continued, her face excited yet twisted. "Do you know? Father has found a fine match for my sister."

Petyr stopped in his tracks, his face twitching slightly and unnaturally. He asked quietly, "Has he? Which house is this important man from?"

Lysa laughed aloud. "It's Brandon Stark of Winterfell. He's a brave and mighty knight."

Petyr pressed a hand to his chest, then moved it up, pretending to straighten his collar. His voice was so faint that the wind seemed about to carry it away.

"Is that so? That really is, really is a very good marriage prospect."

Lysa Tully wore a satisfied smile. The lord was supposed to announce this news formally at the ball, but she had deliberately told Petyr beforehand so he would stop looking utterly bewitched every time he saw her elder sister.

"Yes, my sister was happy when she heard, too. The vassals all say the two of them are a very. Good. Match!"

Petyr Baelish swayed, his face growing ever paler. His lips trembled as he stumbled over his words. "Of course, yes... Lady Catelyn admires valiant knights. It really is, very good..."

Seeing him like this, Lysa felt somewhat sorry for him, but even greater anger and resentment welled up inside her.

Why? Just what makes me any worse than Catelyn?

She suddenly cupped Petyr's face and confessed tenderly, "Once my sister marries into a great house, it'll be my turn. I'll beg Father to let me marry you. Would that be all right, Petyr?"

Petyr suddenly found the face before him, so similar to Catelyn's, hideous and dull. His heart was about to stop beating, yet this woman was still spouting impossible nonsense.

He reached out a hand too, letting it linger briefly at the girl's neck before stroking her face. "Stop fooling around, Lysa. The duke would never agree to let you marry a nobody like me."

Lysa kissed Petyr softly, growing a little emotional. "I'll find a way. Leave it to me, dear Petyr... oh."

Petyr clenched his fists tightly, slowly closed his eyes, and began to respond. "I believe you, Lysa."

Meanwhile, the northerners, along with Ghost, were making their way along a thoroughly unspoiled medieval road full of muddy pits.

Ghost thought the king who had built the Kingsroad had been truly wise and mighty. Although this road, built from earth and reinforced with timber, was little different from the rural dirt roads of her previous life, it was already a very good "national highway."

It was countless times better than those roads in the North, piled with livestock dung and full of great muddy holes!

With this road, the journey really was much faster. After leaving Winterfell and crossing the damp, muddy Neck, they had nothing but an easy road ahead. Without the Kingsroad, they would have had to find their way, cross mountains and ridges, and traverse swamps. They would never have made it in less than a month!

No wonder people said, "To get rich, build roads first."

Lyanna had special lessons to complete. She needed to catch up on a great deal of noble etiquette-she had skipped all those lessons before. She also had to memorize the complicated relationships among the hundreds of noble houses, great and small, currently in Westeros, especially the great houses of the first and second tiers. Lord Rickard had sent three septas along to teach her throughout the journey.

The septas' constant lecturing left Lyanna's head spinning all day, and she could not escape. Seeing the white wolf lying around in the carriage all day, slacking off, she wished she could turn into a wild wolf herself and run off to play.

Ghost snickered, only for her amusement to turn to misery. Lord Rickard sent a thin, wizened old maester to keep an eye on her as well.

He was to teach her about Essos and Westeros, while also reinforcing the fabricated account of her origins as quickly as possible.

The old maester already knew the truth about Ghost and showed no curiosity about her whatsoever. Apart from answering questions related to her studies, he said nothing.

Ghost was also confined to the carriage. Unless Lyanna needed something and called for her, she was not allowed to go anywhere. Moreover, if she did not study each day, she would not be fed. It was truly miserable.

Her appetite was enormous now, and after missing two meals, she surrendered to the ocean of knowledge.

The old maester was called Weilisi, and he looked as frail as a candle about to burn out. Whenever he coughed, he wheezed like a broken bellows. Ghost feared he might wheeze himself to death.

But Weilisi was surprisingly learned. When he first met Ghost, he asked who had taught her the principle of "outshining one's lord through great achievements." Ghost could only make something up and say she had thought of it herself.

After all, even in wolf packs, old wolf kings would try every possible means to drive away young wolves growing stronger, to keep themselves from being killed.

Perhaps this was what they called the wisdom of beasts. Weilisi asked no further questions. In any case, he assigned her mountains of work-starting with copying books.

Ghost was an illiterate who could only speak and read, not write. She could not write a single word. But she soon learned the Common Tongue of Westeros. After all, the language was somewhat like English and was not difficult to learn.

Weilisi then began teaching her High Valyrian. Ghost loved this language that the Mother of Dragons had once used, and her enthusiasm for learning was tremendous...

By the time they were nearing Riverrun, Ghost could already stumble through some everyday conversations in High Valyrian.