It was a tournament in honor of the newly arrived Hand of the King, Eddard Stark. There were quite a few people at this tournament, namely ladies, lords who came either to bet on this or that knight, or just to watch and perhaps even experience their most bitter emotions at the moments of death.

Recently a man from a noble house from the north, like the current Hand of the King, arrived in the capital. That man was you, and your goal was political, to resolve important issues with the King that cannot be resolved through letters.

...

...Sitting on the bench to the on the right of the king, you watched the tournament and... You couldn't admit that you didn't like this event, only to some extent, and when death followed, you were extremely unpleasant to see it.

At some point, when the body was being removed from the field, and the new knight was already preparing to go out to battle, you turned your head, as if without thinking. And then you noticed this look on yourself, a look that seemed to burn into you. And you could not help but admit that your eyes met. It was Petyr Baelish.