Catelyn Tully's voice held a warning: "Petyr."
His fingers curled, and Petyr withdrew his hand, saying, "Lady Catelyn, I absolutely did not mean to offend you, I thought…"
He didn't finish his sentence, shaking his head slightly with a bitter expression.
Petyr's expression brought back vivid memories for Catelyn… He had been cunning and clever since childhood, always looking remorseful after causing trouble. It was a natural talent of his.
Seeing Catelyn lost in thought, Petyr said gently, "Cate, you shouldn't be here."
Catelyn blinked. Petyr's intimate address made her frown, and her voice carried a hint of anger: "Petyr, you should address me as Lady Stark, or Lady Catelyn."
Petyr shrugged slightly: "As you wish, Lady Catelyn. You may call me Littlefinger, just like when we were children."
Catelyn sensed the hidden disappointment in Petyr's playful words, and her heart softened instantly… Littlefinger was her father's ward; they shared beautiful childhood memories. She had loved him, but it was the affection of an elder sister for a younger brother.
At this thought, Catelyn's heart no longer softened. For his sake, and for her own, there should be no intimate gestures between them.
She directly changed the subject, saying coldly, "Petyr, aren't you the Master of Coin? Why are you in Eyrie?"
Petyr sighed softly: "Lady Catelyn, did you not hear about the Alliance of the Righteous on your way here?"
He paused, then continued, "What a nice name. I think 'Alliance of Rebels' would be a more accurate name."
After speaking, Petyr turned sideways, extended a hand, and made a gesturing motion.
Catelyn nodded slightly and began to walk.
As she walked, Catelyn glanced at Petyr beside her: "I heard some incredible news from Uncle Brynden."
Petyr's eyes flickered: "It is indeed incredible…"
He turned his head to look at Catelyn, a bitter smile on his face: "So… you should now know why I am here, shouldn't you?"
She… Lysa… Littlefinger… If that sudden duel hadn't happened, perhaps he and I wouldn't have to act like strangers.
After a moment of silence, Catelyn spoke: "Petyr, what do you think? My sister… Why would Lysa do such a thing?"
Catelyn looked straight ahead, her voice no longer too cold.
Petyr's lips curved slightly: "Lady Catelyn, you are a good wife. You choose to believe your husband, but my choice is to believe Lady Lysa."
He lightly scratched his forehead with an index finger, then added, "What was the Tully Family motto again?"
Catelyn's throat went dry, and she said stiffly, "Family, Duty, Honor."
After speaking, she looked at Petyr and said coldly, "Ned is my husband, and Lysa is my sister. I sincerely hope all of this is a misunderstanding, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten into the basket."
"Lady, you misunderstood my meaning…"
Petyr sighed and continued to explain, "Family, Duty, Honor—each of these requires you to remain in Winterfell as Duke Eddard instructed."
He stopped walking, and said earnestly, "Please leave this to me. Let me escort you away."
Catelyn also stopped walking and frowned: "Petyr, are you suggesting my sister will harm me, her elder sister?"
Petyr spread his hands: "Cate, I'm in a difficult position. I don't want you to misunderstand that I'm trying to sow discord between you and your sister. We are old friends, and I hope you can choose to trust me this once."
Catelyn's eyes trembled. She gazed at Littlefinger's sincere face and said, "Petyr, I only believe your truth."
Petyr hesitated, then slowly began: "The truth is, Lysa feels that your family has betrayed her."
He added, "The truth is, I pleaded for Lysa, and your Hand husband not only removed me from the position I worked so hard to climb to, but also locked me in a cell."
Catelyn murmured, "How could that be…"
She widened her eyes and said firmly, "Petyr, I believe Ned. He has a just heart."
Petyr shrugged: "Lady Catelyn, Lady Lysa also cannot accept it."
He showed a helpless expression, then continued, "You are right to believe your husband… Lysa is right to be angry… And me? Our goals are consistent, which is to resolve this misunderstanding. Old friends should help each other diligently. Of course, I reserve my opinion on Duke Eddard's handling of things, but this will not affect the friendship between you, Lysa, and me."
He chuckled, teasing, "At least I don't like your husband for now, and I hope you can understand. The room your husband locked me in had no light at all. He is truly heartless."
… … … …
Knock, knock, knock.
Petyr's left hand was behind his back, and he raised his right hand to knock on the door, his movements very elegant.
Without waiting for a response from inside, Petyr pulled open the door. He turned to Catelyn, a smile playing on his lips: "Lady Catelyn, please come in."
His eyes moved slightly, and he added, "Lysa specifically instructed that you should not be kept waiting outside the door."
Catelyn nodded slightly and stepped forward.
… … … …
In front of the dressing table, Lysa was wearing a bathrobe, her reddish-brown hair untidy, falling over her bare shoulders and down her back.
A handmaiden stood behind Lysa, helping her comb the knots out of her sleep-tangled hair.
"Oh, Cate, it's so good to see you."
As Catelyn appeared, Lysa immediately rose with a smile. She ran across the room and tightly embraced her sister: "My dearest sister, we haven't seen each other in so long!"
Lysa held Catelyn and murmured, "Oh, it's really been so, so long."
They hadn't seen each other in five years. Catelyn felt it had been a cruel five years for Lysa; time had left its marks on her… Her sister was two years younger, but now she looked older than herself.
Lysa was already shorter than Catelyn, and now she was heavier, her face pale and swollen… Catelyn held Lysa, remembering the slender, proud girl who stood beside her at their wedding in the Riverrun sept… Now, her sister's beauty was reduced to only her voluminous, soft, waist-length auburn hair.
Catelyn's eyes reddened, and she whispered, "Lysa, it's good to see you."
Lady Lysa looked at Petyr, who was gently watching the sisters' reunion, and said, "Earl Petyr, thank you for bringing my sister."
Petyr stared into Lysa's eyes and nodded slightly.
"It was no trouble. I won't disturb you two. Goodbye."
After speaking, he nodded to Catelyn, who was looking at him, and softly greeted the handmaiden in the room before they both left.
As soon as the door closed, Lysa's expression changed, and she immediately threw Catelyn's hand away.
Lysa's face became like clouds obscuring the sun, and she accused, "Cate, what conspiracy do you and your husband have? Why are you trying to frame me?!"
Catelyn could hardly believe her ears. She said in shock, "Conspiracy? Frame?"
She tried to grab her sister's hand, but it was pulled away. "Lysa, how could I hurt you? I'm here to help you."
The fire in the fireplace blazed, but Lysa's voice held no warmth: "I specifically wrote to you, warning you to stay away from the Lannister, but your husband falsely accused me of being a murderer. By the Gods, Cate, did you come here to trick me into confessing to the crime your husband fabricated?"
After speaking, Lysa extended her hands and tightly gripped Catelyn's wrists.
Lysa's grip was strong; she pulled, causing Catelyn to stumble and almost fall.
"Cate, you're dreaming. You won't succeed. The Vale is my son's; you won't snatch it from my hands!"
Catelyn's anger flared up instantly. What sisterly affection? She didn't know now!
With a forceful tug, she threw off Lysa's plump hand and angrily said, "Lysa! Do you know what you're saying? What you're saying is slander! The North has the most land; who would covet your Vale?!"
Lysa mocked, "Oh, didn't you complain in every letter that the North only had white snow?"
Catelyn retorted, "The North stretches from the Wall in the north to the Neck in the south, equivalent to the combined area of the other six kingdoms."
"Oh, no wonder you complained that there was white snow everywhere."
"You…"
"Admit it, you just covet the fertile lands of the Vale."
"Absolutely not, I can swear to you."
"Oh, my husband also swore he would always protect our mother and son, but did he? By the Gods, please do not forgive those who easily make promises they cannot keep."
"You… you…"
"…"
"…"
Catelyn was speaking loudly, but Lysa was practically screaming. Both of them were probably exhausted, and now they were just glaring at each other angrily.
A strange silence fell over the room.
"Mama…"
A small voice suddenly came, instantly drawing Catelyn's and Lysa's attention.
Duke of Eyrie Robert Arryn stood by the inner room's door, clutching a tattered rag doll, his eyes wide as he looked at them. Little Robert was pitifully thin, smaller than children his age, his small face sickly and trembling occasionally.
"Are you playing a game?"
"My little darling…"
With a gasp, Lysa turned, her heavy robe swirling with her. She quickly ran to embrace her son.
She looked at Little Robert with a face full of tenderness, then pointed at Catelyn, her gaze still like daggers when she looked at her sister.
"This is your Aunt Catelyn. She is my sister, Lady of Winterfell. Do you remember?"
Little Robert gazed at Catelyn for a moment, somewhat bewildered. He blinked and said, "I think so."
Catelyn had not yet recovered from her previous anger. She tried her best to force out a gentle smile… The last time she saw Little Robert, he was not yet a year old; how could he remember her?
Catelyn couldn't help but glance at her sister again. She found her sister a bit strange; they had argued plenty of times, but today's argument felt as if it had been practiced countless times, her sister's words flowing with unusual fluency.
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