The agony of a bad student

The flat, fertile plains of the three rivers provided the people of the Riverlands with abundant food and resources. But this terrain was also perfectly suited to an army driving straight through, especially since boats could travel swiftly downstream.

In fact, in several major wars throughout history, the Riverlands, sandwiched between the Westerlands, the North, the Vale, and King's Landing, had often been the first place overrun by armies from all sides.

Across the entire river plain, Riverrun was the only fortress that was easy to defend and difficult to attack, and it was often the lone castle left standing at the end.

Ghost's task today was to memorize the distribution of the major powers across Westeros. Maester Weilisi's minimum requirement was that she understand the territories and principal castles of the great noble houses. He even said there would be a test.

Ghost: ...Evil exam-oriented education.

"I don't understand!" Ghost clutched her hair and scratched her head frantically, on the verge of a breakdown. "What's the difference between the Riverlands and the Reach? Why do the Iron Islands count as a kingdom when they're all islands? ...What does it matter to me when King's Landing was built?"

"Why do I have to learn all this??"

Weilisi lifted his eyelids. "A beautiful appearance is merely a pass. Knowledge and wisdom, however, can serve as weapons."

Ghost abruptly opened her mouth, baring her pointed canines at the maester. "My teeth and claws are weapons too."

Weilisi remained entirely unruffled, the pen in his hand not even wavering. "I believe you should understand that what separates beasts from humans is that humans possess intelligence."

He raised his chin slightly, fixing Ghost with clouded eyes until her skin crawled. "Memorize another ten pages today, or you won't be allowed to eat."

Ghost: ...Fuck.

Even when she had failed five subjects in one semester at university and had to finish all the makeup exams in two days, she hadn't memorized half as much as she had to now. After starting work, she had gone years without reading a single book. There was still a stack at home with the plastic wrapping untouched.

After transmigrating, she actually had to study hard instead...

Ghost forced herself to read for a while longer, but eventually she couldn't take it anymore and began fishing for something to talk about.

"Master Weilisi, how am I supposed to get close to the crown prince? What identity has Lord Rickard arranged for me?"

Weilisi set aside his work. In fact, he had been planning to tell her part of the plan anyway.

"Your appearance bears very distinct traits of House Targaryen. In fact, we have long suspected that there might be dragon blood among your ancestors."

Ghost was unconvinced. "Just based on looks? Isn't that a little hasty?"

She felt that the only possible reason her human form resembled a Targaryen so closely was that she had subconsciously used Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons, as her template during her first transformation, shaping this appearance as a result. It had nothing to do with dragon blood.

Although King Aerys was indeed making a great show of searching for girls with Valyrian ancestry, why were they so certain they could pull the wool over everyone's eyes and successfully approach Crown Prince Rhaegar?

Ghost rested her chin in her hand, her long platinum hair spilling loosely over her body. It had already grown down to the backs of her knees.

Her skin was translucently pale, and her features looked as though they had been cast from the very same mold as Prince Rhaegar's. Sunlight filtered hazily through the curtains onto her, her skin so white it almost let the light through, her beauty too perfect to seem real.

If her eyes had been a crystalline amethyst rather than green, anyone who saw her would have believed she was a trueborn Targaryen.

Weilisi nodded slightly, acknowledging the question. "It's very good that you thought of that. This is a good opportunity to discuss a theory of bloodlines popular in Westeros-the seed is strong."

"The nobles were the first to propose a need to establish parentage. From kings and Hands of the King down to the middling and lesser nobility, none wanted their bloodlines muddled."

Weilisi coughed several times and said quietly, "After all, nobles are a pack of greedy, ill-tempered parasites who produce nothing and know only how to enjoy themselves."

Ghost realized that the old man seemed a little cynical. Did he hate nobles...?

"The Citadel has conducted related research for centuries. Many Grand Maesters believe that the older and purer a family's bloodline, the more distinctly its hereditary traits will manifest in its appearance."

"We have also tried many methods of identifying blood descendants, through blood, bones, and even divination, for example. None have yielded very clear experimental results."

"Using the seed is strong theory to identify family bloodlines through generations of noble genealogies is currently the most widely accepted method."

"So, with just a small change to your eye color, neither the Hand of the King nor the king will doubt that you have Valyrian ancestry. And House Targaryen is now the only surviving line of Old Valyrians in Westeros and Essos."

After speaking for so long, Weilisi began coughing violently again. Startled, Ghost hurriedly took out a cup and poured him some water.

From the sound of it, isn't the seed is strong basically just gene expression? It does make sense...but that doesn't rule out genetic mutations.

For instance, Robert never suspected that Joffrey wasn't his son. I wonder how Cersei explained it to him. Stubborn denial?

But Jon Arryn, Ned, and the others concluded that none of Cersei's three children were King Robert's based on this theory, because they were all blond...with very obvious traits of the lion's house.

By the time Ghost came back to herself, Weilisi was gone. A septa had taken a seat beside her at some point. Whenever she wasn't being taught, this septa watched over her.

The convoy gradually began to slow. Ghost could hear the river, as well as knights giving orders to halt and rest where they were. This was probably their last rest stop before Riverrun.

There was a gentle knock on the carriage, and Ned's low voice came through. "Ghost, are you hungry? I...I brought you something to eat."

The septa coughed twice. Ned let out an "Ah!" and hastily said, "Sorry for disturbing you. These things..."

The septa climbed out of the carriage and returned carrying a small, square, woven-grass basket, only about the size of two adult palms. Inside were a small handful of beef jerky, an apple, and two slices of bread...

There was even a bunch of little yellow flowers, the kind commonly found growing wild.

The septa gave Ghost the flowers and confiscated the food.

Ghost: ...So depressing. T﹏T

She could only go back to memorizing. Old Weilisi was wicked. When he said she wouldn't get to eat, he really meant it.

Ghost's eyes shifted. Lyanna was bound to have food. She had barely moved her butt before the septa lunged to block the door, looking ready to make a heroic stand if Ghost dared try to leave.

"...I'm going to see Lyanna. I'll be right back."

The septa simply shook her head in silence.

Ghost gave up... The woman had practically been treating her like a prisoner lately. Fortunately, Riverrun was just ahead.

The septa brought Ghost to Lyanna's carriage, then withdrew. There, Ghost transformed into a white wolf, ready to accompany her into the city.

Throughout the journey, Ghost had no idea what instructions Lord Rickard had given, but no one had shown any curiosity about her or tried to pry. The septa attending her was also different from the one with Lyanna. She was mute.

Ghost grew a little more wary of Rickard Stark's methods. The old wolf king, Ryder Stark, was not very much like a member of the wolf's house in either his methods or his depth of scheming.

After several months of arduous travel, with some delays along the way, they finally reached the heart of the Riverlands-Riverrun.