They were under the dappling light. The leaves whispered above them and the earth felt warm underneath their touch. A lazy wind blew past and the summer reigned on. The maester had instructed them to collect herbs for his work. It was one of Cat's favourite tasks. She loved being able to recognise the plants from her own memory, being able to ground them between her fingers and smell their scents. It felt so natural. She felt like one of the First Men or the first of the Andal exploring Westeros. She crushed another leaf in her hands, one that she knew left green remnants on her fingers and she painted her cheeks with it. Two lines on either side to make herself feel like the Queen of the Godswood. She lay down on the ground and smiled up at the canopy and counted exactly how many rays of golden sunlight had been allowed to leak through the patchy blanket of green. Lysa and Edmure laughed when they found her lying on the ground. Her brother handed her a beautiful, white flower which he had found on his travels through the Godswood. It was just about to blossom. One petal had started to face the world but the others clasped tightly to the core and now would never see the world for she pinned the flower among her auburn tresses and lay back down onto the ground after giving her brother an affectionate kiss on the forehead.
"Cat, you look like a beautiful princess of some far off land." A whisper, only just about loud enough to travel with the gentle breeze, reached her and she shot up in alarm. Her eyes searched the place and fixed upon a tall figure hiding away between the trees.
"It does not bode well for a man to hide away like that. Come out from the shadows Baelish, I know it is you. And do not call me Cat." she added, her voice no longer dreamy but curt and sharp. Lysa also shot up in alarm and bunched her muddy hands into fists before hiding them away behind her back.
"Cat..I am..I am going to give these to.." before the poor young girl could even finish her sentence properly she was walking back away into the clearing and almost stumbled in her embarrassment.
"Does your sister not like me?" Petyr asked her, still hidden away behind the trees. Catelyn could not be sure for she was unable to read his expression, but from his voice she could almost see the sly grin on his face. He knew exactly what was wrong with Lysa, knew the effect he had on her and he only wished for someone else to say it.
"Of course she does, she is just shy." Edmure replied innocently with a laugh. His eyes staring admiringly at the tall figure. The young Tully boy looked up to just about any boy older then himself.
"If I come out from these trees, will you promise not to be alarmed?" Petyr asked, his voice curiously tender and quiet.
"I promise." Cat said impatiently and Edmure nodded, eager to be in with these secrets. Petyr stepped out from the shadows and her eyes widened in shock. She could hear her brother breathe in sharply as they looked upon the sorry sight of their father's ward. The entire right half of his face was covered in livid bruises - some purple and some still pink. His skin was giving way in some areas and tiny cuts were beginning to emerge and thin threads of blood were running down his face like red tears. Cat felt herself soften as she looked at the strange, gangly, intense young man who stood before her. His shoulders stooped; the humiliation had washed away the usual arrogance he wore around himself.
"Oh Petyr.." Cat murmured gently, "Edmure, go find some cloth or something. We will take him to the maester once we have him a little bit more patched up." Her brother nodded and broke into a childish run towards the castle. She wanted to avoid making a scene, if only for Baelish's sake. "How? When?" she asked gently as he walked towards her and clumsily sat down.
"Just..just now. I..I didn't want to spar anymore. I had had enough. I am not made for those things, I am no great warrior and I know it. I may have insulted them, called them oafs..but nothing that warrants this. Nor the things they said to me. They beat me to the ground Cat," his warm hand sought hers and held tight, "They started kicking me. Then one boy, the bastard Rivers, he punched me hard and then..then they all started. They were screaming at me and...I was so scared." he was speaking so fast, it was hard for Cat to keep up. At one point he fell silent, as if reliving his humiliation and she thought he would cry but he did not. "Mindless, violent oafs. I hate them." He added in a low voice, his eyes fixed upon her; cold and steely.
The young girl did not really know what to say so she squeezed his hand gently and led him to a small brook that was not far from them. She manoeuvred them both easily through the tall thin trees. As they settled near to the water, she reached under the dress of her skirts and gently tore a small piece from the white undergown. She looked back at Petyr, only to feel a shiver run down her back. He was watching her so intently.
"Do not stare at me like that." She said, looking away quickly. She dipped the white cloth into the cool water before gently dabbing his face with it.
"You still look so beautiful. The queen of the Godswood. If I had it in my power, I would make you queen of all the Godswoods from here to beyond the Wall. Would you like that?" he spoke softly now, with every word his face inching closer towards her.
"I think you may be getting delirious." She said with a laugh, ignoring his childish babble, her hand continuing to clean away the blood, "this is not as bad as it looks. The wounds and the bruises; they should go and leave no scars." She drew her face away from his but his hand suddenly grasped onto her arm and held her back. His grip was tight and insistent, it started to hurt her and she furrowed her brows at him. "Petyr please, you are being silly. Come now; let us get you to the maester. I wonder where Edmure has got to..." Her voice caught in her throat as she finished the last sentence, her heart was racing and his dark eyes, which had always flustered her, were now so close. His warm breath brushed against her hair and he reached out to stroke her cheek but before he could touch her she suddenly got up. "Let us go to the maester." Her voice cold once again, it had to be, he had left her no choice. She felt uneasy and strange and not like herself at all. Her arm started to hurt with a dull pain and she could not believe that his grip had been that strong.
"Lead the way" he replied. All the intensity had left his body. He sat on the ground with a cold, limp disdain. His eyes locked onto hers for a moment and she searched desperately but she found no emotions within their depths. He got up slowly with the injured half of his face turned away. "I said lead the way...my lady"