[ catelyn-t-stark ]
For a small, scrawny boy, he was fast. Lysa was fast too, and though she tired easily, she was always willing to engage in any sort of game with Petyr. Something so simple and silly as racing in the godswood appealed to her so long as he was with her and he did not fail to notice this. Though he rarely said it, he admired her for her resilience. However, he was far less appreciative of how her tackle made him fall in an indecorous manner.
"Lysa," he chided. "That wasn't part of the game. This was just a race." He pretended not to notice the longing in her eyes and the way her arms lingered around his torso. Instead, he tucked a stray strand behind her hair and smiled at her apology. "I'll forgive you if you can run back to the castle before I get there. I'll even give you a head start. Five..." He began to count down, which sent Lysa off. As soon as she was out of range, he stopped counting and took his time making his way back.
Just on the fringes of the godswood, he caught sight of the auburn hair that had bewitched him so. He felt his lips swiftly form into a smile that practically touched his eyes.
"Cat!" He called, briskly making his way to her. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it to lessen the dirt. When his hand fell, a leaf was lodged between his fingers. He breathed an easy laugh.
"Lysa," he said, by way of explanation and offered no more in that regard. "We wanted you to join us, but Maester Vyman said you were with your lord father."
