Inside the cave, the flames crackled.
The firelight cast the shadows of the two people onto the rough rock wall.
Stretched, distorted.
Like intertwining phantoms.
Lysa Arryn slept soundly.
Like a baby finally back in its mother's arms.
The fear, betrayal, and slaughter of the past few days had long since drained her spirit.
Now, resting on Petyr's arm and smelling the familiar faint scent of spices on his robes, she finally found a moment of peace.
However, even dreams could not completely block out the bone-deep terror.
The bloody scene in Riverrun's High Hall.
Walder Frey's rolling head.
Lynn's face, bearing an evil smile after tearing off his mask... Scene after scene flashed wildly behind her closed eyelids like a revolving lantern.
"No!"
Lysa woke up abruptly.
Breaking free from the nightmare, she was soaked in cold sweat.
She instinctively clutched the man beside her.
That solid touch was the only thing that calmed her chaotic mind slightly.
He was still here.
Petyr was still here.
Using the faint firelight, she gazed greedily at his sleeping profile.
That gaunt outline, that meticulously groomed goatee.
Everything was exactly as she remembered.
But... a thought quietly crept out from the darkest corner of her heart.
Lynn, that devil, could easily disguise himself as Ned Stark.
That face, that voice... it was absolutely flawless.
Then... Petyr... could he be...? Once this thought surfaced, it couldn't be suppressed!
Lysa's heart pounded wildly, threatening to leap out of her throat!
She looked at Petyr, the man she had loved all her life, who now seemed to have turned into an unknown monster wearing human skin.
No, it couldn't be.
Petyr was sent by the gods to save her.
He said so himself.
But... what if?
What if this was also Lynn's deception?
What if he only wanted to lure her to some place this way, and then slowly torture her to death?
The more Lysa thought about it, the more terrified she became, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably.
She had to confirm it!
She had to confirm it herself!
Lysa slowly released her grip.
She slowed her breathing, pretending to still be asleep.
She listened closely; Petyr's breathing was steady and long, indicating he seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep.
The chance had come.
Lysa's heart leaped into her throat.
Trembling, she stretched out her hand.
The hand that had once personally handed poison to her husband was now shaking violently.
Her fingertips, cautiously, as if touching the most precious and fragile piece of porcelain, gently landed on Petyr's cheek.
The skin felt warm and real.
Lysa's heart calmed down slightly.
But that wasn't enough.
Her fingers began to trace his jawline, inching upward.
Chin, behind the ear, hairline... these were the places where a human skin mask was most likely to show flaws.
She felt with extreme care.
Not letting go of even the slightest gap or trace of adhesive.
Nothing.
There was actually nothing!
The texture of the skin was exactly what it should be for a man his age.
She could even feel the muscles beneath the skin, gently rising and falling with his breath.
This wasn't a mask!
This absolutely wasn't a mask!
No matter how superb Lynn's mask technology was, it couldn't achieve this level of flawlessness!
Little did she know.
Lynn's masks could now not only replicate the appearance of the person being imitated, but also perfectly reproduce details like height and weight, like a 1:1 replica.
If Lynn wanted to, he could even create a Cersei... and Lysa clearly didn't know this.
She let out a long breath.
She had worried for nothing.
That devil, Lynn, had scared her witless.
A huge wave of guilt instantly overwhelmed Lysa.
How could she suspect Petyr?
Suspect this man who had climbed back from hell for her?
She deserved a thousand deaths!
Just as Lysa was about to withdraw her hand and repent for her suspicion.
In the darkness, a pair of eyes opened without warning.
Those grey-green eyes, reflecting the flickering firelight, looked at her silently, like two bottomless lakes.
"!!!"
Lysa's body suddenly froze, her blood instantly turning cold!
He was awake!
When did he wake up?
Did he see what she just did?
What would he think?
Lysa's mind went blank.
Countless thoughts flashed through her mind, ultimately dissolving into sheer panic.
"I... I..."
Lysa opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.
Petyr didn't speak, just watched her with those profound eyes.
In his gaze, there was no anger, no accusation, only a hint of... knowing amusement.
This look made Lysa feel even more mortified.
She couldn't admit it!
She absolutely couldn't admit she had just been doubting him!
That would completely break his heart and ruin everything between them!
In desperation, an excuse that even she found ridiculous, yet was the only plausible one, slipped out.
"I... I want you..."
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, and her cheeks instantly burned hot.
After saying this, she wished she could sink through the floor.
However, the expected silence and awkwardness did not materialize.
"Littlefinger" smiled.
That smile was still the way she remembered it.
Carrying a hint of mischief, a hint of understanding, and a hint of indulgence reserved only for her.
Petyr didn't expose her, nor did he ask another question.
He simply reached out, pulled Lysa into his embrace, and leaned down to kiss her cold and trembling lips.
"My little Lysa,"
His voice, husky and magnetic, whispered in her ear.
"It's true... we haven't done this in many years."
"The last time was when Lord Arryn was asleep, and we were in the next room..."
This was like a key, instantly unlocking the floodgates of Lysa's memory.
Indeed, if Petyr were an imposter, how could he possibly know such intimate secrets?
Petyr was undoubtedly real!
The familiar scent, the familiar strength, the familiar technique... everything was exactly the same as those nights they had sneaked around in the past!
Lysa's anxious heart finally settled completely.
That's right.
This was him.
This was her Petyr!
That devil, Lynn!
He could imitate Petyr's face and voice, but he could never imitate the tacit understanding and tenderness that belonged only to the two of them.
The last, deepest trace of doubt was completely shattered at this moment.
Lysa no longer resisted, no longer felt shy.
Like a fish needing water, she responded greedily.
She used all her strength to feel this man she had recovered.
The firelight in the cave gradually dimmed, leaving only scattered sparks flickering in the darkness.
Clothes were discarded, skin met skin.
Lysa felt as if she had melted, turning into a pool of spring water.
She indulged, she cried out, venting all the accumulated longing, grievances, and desire of those years without reservation in this moment.
She felt herself being tossed repeatedly.
Every collision seemed to prove to her that the man before her was real.
Every breath seemed to declare that their love was eternal... After an unknown amount of time, the storm finally subsided.
Lysa curled up in Petyr's arms like a lazy cat, her face flushed with satisfaction.
She felt as if she had been reborn.
The physical pleasure completely washed away her mental exhaustion and fear.
Now, she was two hundred percent certain that he was her Petyr.
"Petyr..."
She rubbed against him in his arms, her voice husky with post-satisfaction.
"Once we pick up Robert, we'll never be separated again, okay?"
"Okay."
Petyr gently stroked her smooth back, his voice incredibly tender.
"We'll leave as soon as the sky brightens."
"We'll go to The Eyrie and bring our son home."
His voice was like the most enchanting lullaby.
Lysa, holding onto infinite hopes for the future, fell deeply asleep again in his arms.
This time, she had no more nightmares.
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