As strongholds went, the Eyrie was relatively small. Its narrow seven spires held little that was extraneous. At least, little that was extraneous to a lord. Perhaps the commonfolk might see it was lavish, but it was sparse when compared to the Red Keep. Even Winterfell had more to its girth and stonework, for it had the good fortune to stretch across otherwise empty land. The Eyrie's more impressive piece of architecture -- the Maiden's Tower -- was under the sole power of Alayne Stone. Her apartments there were large and lavish, including a dressing room and a private privy. But the real beauty was the stone balcony overlooking the entirety of the Vale.

Quite apart from such personal spaces, there was a small banqueting room for intimate dining. Or else for dining done in solitary should the lady of the castle ever choose not to sup in the High Hall. Considering it was only herself and Petyr who supped outside of the servants chambers, Sansa had been taking more of her meals in the Maiden's Tower. A token few were taken with Petyr, but on days where he was locked up with his own thoughts? She ate alone.

But not tonight. Tonight, she saw the room's fire lit to a furious heat. She ordered a runner taken out of storage and added to the narrow table. It had been a place of isolation before, but the demands of hosting a guess forced her to inject some life into the four walls. And she placed bread and salt on the table, fingertips lingering over the dish even as a servant cleared his throat at the door.

Sansa saw Gendry inside with little more than a tip of her hand. The servant did not leave them alone, but settled just beyond the small hall's door. "My Lord Father commands it," she explained even before a question was asked. Of course, they would require a chaperone. Their brief meeting in the library had been a rare and risky gift.