Lady Catelyn remained motionless, but it didn't affect Petyr's conversational enthusiasm: "I never thought taking care of a small child would be such a headache. Joffrey threw two bowls of porridge this morning because there were no eggs. Scholar Kemon and I had a hard time coaxing him."
He stopped a few steps behind Lady Catelyn and continued: "This morning, the old servant at Eyrie told me the weather seems to be getting colder. Is this 'winter is coming'?"
Lady Catelyn said coldly: "The gods will not forgive you. Before long, you will understand what 'winter is truly coming' means."
Seeing Catelyn speak, Petyr curled his lips, paused, and said: "Compared to Eyrie, where footsteps echo, I miss Riverrun, full of childhood memories. Recently, I've missed even more the…"
Lady Catelyn turned her head and looked at Petyr coldly, saying: "Baelish, you have no right to speak of your past in Riverrun. You killed my sister; you are an enemy of the Tully Family."
Petyr stared blankly at Catelyn for a moment, her charming face filled with hatred for him.
He gave a self-deprecating laugh and sighed: "Catelyn, you should leave."
Catelyn's pupils constricted abruptly, her gaze very wary: "Baelish, do you dare let me go?"
"I'm truly a fool…"
Muttering to himself, Petyr tugged at his collar and sighed: "Catelyn, let me tell you… good news that will be a surprise to you."
Catelyn turned around, maintaining her vigilance, and said: "What news?"
Petyr showed a bitter smile and said: "The person I privately sent to inquire about Eddard Stark's whereabouts… his raven arrived at dawn."
He moved his lips: "The foolish Direwolf is still alive and well, and has returned to Winterfell with Sansa and Arya."
Catelyn's eyes instantly filled with tears, her lips trembling slightly as she said: "Is… is that true?"
Petyr lowered his eyes sadly and whispered in a hoarse voice: "Although I really want to deceive you and say it's not true, I can't. I'm truly a big fool."
He raised his eyelids to look at Catelyn, forcing a smile: "Catelyn, if it weren't for the war in the Valley, I think the news of the Direwolf's return to Winterfell would have reached Eyrie long ago… This is true, I can swear by the gods."
Tears slipped from Catelyn's eyes, flowing down her cheeks, as she murmured: "That's wonderful… that's wonderful… Thank the gods…"
Then, as tears continued to fall, Catelyn couldn't help but reveal a smile full of love and warmth.
After a long while, she wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and said: "Baelish, with your cunning, you should know very well… if you let me go, you will be in great danger. I will absolutely not cover for you."
Petyr shrugged and said: "I'm afraid that if I'm unlucky, by the time you find me, I might already be gone."
Catelyn's brows furrowed. Petyr seemed to have instantly guessed her thoughts and said with amusement: "Catelyn, please don't misunderstand. Although I'm very afraid of death, I won't abandon Joffrey for my own life. I am the adoptive father Lysa chose for her son before she died."
The fire of hatred flickered in Catelyn's eyes. She said coldly: "Baelish, you not only murdered Lysa, but you also took everything from her. No matter where you flee, the gods will not forgive your sins."
Petyr could hardly hide the sadness on his face. After a pause, he changed the subject: "Joffrey's army has occupied Moon Gate Castle. Everyone here could betray us at any moment to save their lives. You need to take care of yourself before I return… If I don't return, I hope you'll take care of Joffrey for me, for Lysa's sake."
Catelyn's eyes trembled. Petyr's expression at that moment suddenly brought back memories she thought she had long forgotten.
At that time, before he made that crazy decision, he had looked at her with the same gaze, as if it were yesterday.
Sixteen years ago, she was betrothed to Brandon Stark by her father.
When she became engaged, the thin young Petyr challenged Brandon, who was much older than him, to a duel for her sake.
Before the duel began, she told her fiancé… Petyr was just a foolish child, but she loved him like a younger brother… if he died, she would be very sad.
Her fiancé looked at her with those calm grey Stark eyes and promised to spare the life of the boy who loved her so madly.
In fact, the duel ended almost as soon as it began.
The adult Brandon forced Petyr to retreat step by step, from the castle courtyard all the way to the water stairs, attacking fiercely, making the boy stumble and leaving him covered in wounds.
Her fiancé called out more than once for Petyr to surrender. But he always shook his head, stubbornly continuing to fight.
Finally, where the water reached their ankles, Brandon finally made his move. He swung his sword fiercely in a backhand strike, piercing Petyr's breastplate and leather, cutting through the soft flesh beneath his ribs. The wound was so deep that Catelyn even thought it must be fatal.
The boy fell into a pool of blood, gazing at her, murmuring her name, while bright blood gushed from between his gauntlets.
Petyr recuperated for two weeks. As soon as he had recovered a little, her father sent men to put Petyr in a sealed sedan chair and carry him back to Fingers Peninsula to continue his recovery.
… … … …
Catelyn moved her lips and asked with a complex gaze: "What are you going to do?"
Petyr said with feigned ease: "The commander of Joffrey's army is an old friend of mine. I plan to catch up with him… If I'm lucky, Joffrey will be safe… If not, I hope you can protect your nephew; he's a poor child."
Catelyn touched the dagger hidden in her sleeve with her fingertips and said: "Baelish, it sounds like your so-called good friend will take your life. I don't like your word games; just tell me the situation outside directly."
Petyr spread his hands and said: "Lady, what I can tell you… I have already said."
Those grey-green eyes, filled with love, looked deeply at Catelyn. He turned around, as if saying goodbye: "May the gods bless you, Catelyn."
Seeing Petyr about to leave, Catelyn said: "Stop!"
"You murderer, stop!" But Petyr's footsteps did not halt.
Catelyn stepped forward, walked over, and blocked him. She drew her dagger and held it against Petyr's neck.
"Where is Joffrey?"
Petyr, who had stopped, leaned back slightly in exasperation and said softly: "Catelyn, he's in the bedroom. Scholar Kemon is with him. Joffrey is fine, you can trust me."
Catelyn said coldly: "Baelish, do you think I would believe that a murderer who personally killed his mother would take good care of her child?"
Petyr opened his mouth but said nothing. His eyes avoided Catelyn's gaze.
"Catelyn, you know what I care about most. I beg you… let me leave in peace."
Catelyn gazed at Petyr and said: "I don't want to guess what you're going to do, or for whom you've chosen to atone. I know, and Joffrey will know when he grows up… that you are the one who killed Lysa."
A rare trace of anger appeared on Petyr's face. His chest rose and fell, his lips tightly pressed.
After a pause, Petyr, his face flushed, couldn't help but say: "Catelyn, you only saw me push Lysa out of the Moon Gate, but have you forgotten yourself? If I hadn't appeared in time…"
He pointed to the dagger at his neck: "Whose abdomen would it have been plunged into? Would it still have been mine? If I hadn't appeared, whose abdomen would you have plunged it into… if my guess is correct, who would be the murderer in your words… whose hands would Lysa have died by?"
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