“Tell me how it happened, Littlefinger.”
Her voice was as sharp cold as the steel of the dagger she had drawn. Petyr Baelish took a step backwards, his palms sweating. “Petyr,” he corrected, licking his lips nervously. “Cat, it’s me; I have always-“
“Loved me?” Something like a smile twisted up the corners of her lips, but to him it seemed more a grimace. “I know it well, Petyr. And that’s why you betrayed my husband, isn’t it?” Her voice broke, and for the first time since they had met again he truly realized how much she had aged from her girlhood. “That is why you killed my Ned?”
“It was the Lannisters, Cat, I swear I did not-“
Catelyn Stark brandished her knife dangerously close to his face. “The north remembers, Lord Baelish,” she intoned, her voice low and threatening. “Do not think I have forgotten who you are. What you are.” Unadulterated revulsion colored her face, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment Petyr thought she would kill him.
But Cat Tully, the girl he had always loved, the woman who had chosen another man, mother and lady- did not. She drew the dagger and backed slowly from the tent, eyes not leaving his for a moment.