The sound of heavy breathing grew louder as Lady Lysa Tully, her face flushed with desire, lifted her skirt.
Petyr Baelish reached out and gently stopped her.
"Lysa."
His magnetic voice seemed to stir a sliver of reason in her clouded mind.
With a soft smile and a tender gaze, Petyr whispered, "Lysa, come with me."
Beneath Petyr's surface charm lay a core of cold rationality. He wore different masks before different people, always playing the role that best suited his advantage.
No matter how inflamed his desires, Petyr would never dare indulge them near the stairwell of the Hand's Tower. Yet he never said the place was unsuitable—he simply couldn't bring himself to reject Lysa's affections outright.
...
With graceful charm, he added, "There's a room just ahead—one worthy of your beauty, my Lady Lysa."
Her cheeks reddened even further. In her heart, she would always be Lysa Tully of Riverrun, and in Petyr's heart, she was loved just as deeply.
We will be together in the end.
Blushing, Lysa placed her plump hand gently into his waiting palm.
Petyr's eyes flickered subtly.
"You haven't come to see me in days," Lysa murmured with a hint of complaint, though her tone was more coy than accusatory.
At her age and in her current state, her bashful gestures and girlish tone were jarring—but Petyr's gaze remained filled with unwavering affection.
He squeezed her hand. "Everything I do is for our future, Lysa. For you, I can endure anything."
Lysa thought of all the years Petyr had spent humbling himself at her husband's side—bowing, scraping, always careful.
She knew he hated every second of it, but he had done it all for her.
Overwhelmed with love, she didn't know how to repay such devotion. All she could offer now... was herself. Once more, Lysa knelt.
Petyr's smile froze slightly.
...
Moments later, she looked up with a flush and whispered, "My Littlefinger is very lively today."
It was a private term of endearment—but hearing the nickname from her lips still made Petyr's smile twitch.
Putting his arm around her, he helped her to her feet. "My sweet Lysa, I fear you may not sleep a wink tonight."
She giggled, "Petyr, my brave knight, I do so love to sleep in."
...
Elsewhere in the Red Keep...
Varys stared at the slip of paper in his hand.
The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face, making him look even colder and more unreadable.
A quiet voice asked, "Lord Varys, Lady Arryn and Lord Baelish have entered a room together. Shall we post someone to listen in?"
Varys set the note aside and nodded slightly. With hands folded delicately, he murmured, "Ah… people often speak most freely when caught up in passion."
"As you command, my lord."
Varys added, "And the results of the City Watch's investigation—have they reached Janos?"
"Yes, all has gone according to your instructions. Everything is proceeding smoothly."
"Good. See that it ends perfectly. From now on, do not assign any of our little birds to watch places where Lord Crabb is present."
"…As you wish."
Varys rose from his chair and walked to the window. "Do not be concerned. This world always has room for the strange and unexpected."
"My lord, I only fear that in the future—"
"Unless one tears down the entire Red Keep," Varys said, staring into the night, "there is nowhere my little birds cannot reach."
...
King's Landing – Queen's District, Watch Barracks
Frey sat slumped against the wall, looking exhausted and disinterested.
Seeing Leyton approach, he asked, "Leyton, have the silver stags been handed out?"
Leyton stretched and slouched beside him. "Yeah. They all cooperated, even without Lannister redcloaks helping this time. Honestly, it was easier."
Frey let out a hearty laugh. "If it were me, I'd be praying the Queen passed by here every damn day!"
Leyton chuckled. "Her Grace has already returned to the Red Keep. Who knows when she'll come again? Still, something to look forward to."
He glanced at Frey. "And how's their training going?"
Frey shook his head. "Let's just say they're… obedient enough."
"Frey, they're not from the Crab Claw. The enemies they'll face won't be the same."
"I know, I know," Frey sighed. "I just feel bored, that's all. I miss Whispering Hill."
Leyton shrugged. "Same here. It's been ages since I went hunting. This place is too quiet—it's unsettling."
"You think Lord Gawen might run into trouble down south?"
Leyton thought for a moment. "I'd say… nothing too serious. After all, he's traveling under the Queen's banner."
Frey leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Heh. You never know."
Leyton raised a brow.
"It's not what others might do. The real danger… is Lord Gawen himself."
...
The Reach – Along Rose Avenue
Gawen's company continued riding south along the famed Rose Avenue. As they neared Highgarden, they encountered more and more patrols from the Reach.
Gawen furrowed his brow.
What caught his attention was the armor: each patrol, ranging from 12 to 15 riders, was fully armored in plate from head to toe.
Large population. Great wealth.
That was the impression the Reach left on Gawen.
...
As noon approached, Gawen signaled for the column to slow down—they needed a place to rest.
Soon, Anguy returned from scouting ahead.
"My lord, there's a village just ahead. A noblewoman is distributing food to the locals."
Free food? That caught Mondon Waters' attention immediately.
"Did you see any banners? What did she look like?"
"I didn't see any sigil. Didn't want to get too close and risk a misunderstanding. From afar, I could only tell she was wearing green and had brown hair."
Gawen arched an eyebrow and tugged gently on his reins.
"We won't enter the village. Is there another place nearby we can rest?"
Not go in? Is it to avoid disrupting the villagers?
Truly, Lord Gawen's kindness knows no bounds...
Anguy quickly answered, "There's a side path to the right. Follow it for a bit and there's a stream—a perfect place to rest."
Gawen nodded and raised his voice: "Move out!"
.
.
.
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