Call me Out

[dammitmasa]

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code by cawaii
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Preferences:
- I don't play for shipping, fluff, or smut. If it arrives naturally, I'll play it. But not as a starting point.
- In universe, AUs, crossovers, post-game, or other situations are cool.
- I will play prose or brackets, but definitely prefer prose.

Comments

[steeledskin]

"I trust you do not truly need my help with washing up," she answered quickly -- perhaps allowing herself to all too easily fall victim to a literal interpretation of his request. But one term had followed upon the other, and her better sense had yet to rally around the notion.

Truthfully, a thin wheedling vein of offence appeared in her demeanour. Soon to be stamped out by the shame of mistaking his meaning.

[bullhorned]

His eyes widened. "No! That's not-- I'm sorry, m'lady. I'll be there."

Only now he had resigned to figure it out all himself, seeing as he'd already bungled things entirely. Only now he really wished he could avoid going. Even the promise of food fit for lords seemed like enough.

[steeledskin]

Keep your head, Sansa.

"I-if it's any consolation, there won't be many of us. Myself, and Robin. Maester Colemon." Her laughter, now, was a nervous reaction. Tinged with fear. "Children and women and old men. Doubtless, you will find it terribly dull after your time spent elsewhere."

[bullhorned]

He felt stupid all at once. Where he had expected banquet, she had only intended a small supper. He had met both Lord Robin and his maester. Though not anxious to share dinner with either of them, he supposed it was far better than hall full of people. And where would they come from, stupid boy? There's not even enough servants in the keep to fill it.

"I assumed..." He scratched his head and changed his tune. "Aye, m'lady. I met Maester Colemon yesterday. Very wise."

[steeledskin]

"You thought it would be a larger affair." She could forgive him that mistake, she supposed. "Not tonight; however, when my father returns, he wants us to make the trip down to stay with the Royces. Winter is here."

In fact, it had already begun to snow again. Thick flakes which swirled lazily down to the ground.

[bullhorned]

He had only been in this forge for a few days, but he already felt a connection to it. A sense of ownership. He wondered if the Royces would have a forge already. I'll be an apprentice again.

"Mya... my sister. She'll be leading us down, won't she?"

[steeledskin]

"When it comes to it. Yes. She generally does."

She could not fault him for being curious.

[bullhorned]

He nodded. Alayne had spoken of how Mya had memories of their father. He wanted to hear them for himself. Even a small glimpse at what he had missed out on would be welcome. He'd have to try not to be resentful.

"Then begging your pardon, m'lady, I'd best see to washing up."

[steeledskin]

"I will speak to someone about taking Jon Arryn's things out of storage. His wife wanted them kept for Robin, when he's older, but..." Pursed lips. She weighed her risk. "He won't fill them the way he did. You, on the other hand--"

At long last, a credible reason to take careful stock of Gendry's frame. Until now, she felt guilty in doing so. Sinful, almost. Because she'd long ago associated such admiration with subjugation, and she shied from making anyone feel that way. But the manageress of a household had to be allowed the freedom to size up a man and guess at what would fit him.

"They may just about fit you. At least, it was said that Lord Arryn was also broad in the shoulder."

[bullhorned]

He'd dressed finer in the past few days then the whole of his life. And now she was offering him clothes from not only a lord, but a Hand of the King. He swallowed down his objections.

"I met him," he reminded her. "He seemed about my height. Larger, perhaps, when he was younger."

The man wasn't necessarily soft, but he was old and didn't look as though he was a man who did much fighting anymore. At the time, even the younger Gendry had been broader than him. He'd only grown since them.

"But, m'lady, the clothes belong to Lord Robin's father. Won't he object?"

[steeledskin]

"I won't tell him. Will you?"

Perhaps Robin Arryn would recognize a stitch or two, but he was young and Sansa had such a way of soothing over his concerns.

[bullhorned]

He felt as though this was a terrible game she might be playing. She would dress him as Robin's father and then, when it was noticed, she would turn on him and he'd be sent out the Moon Gate for daring to pretend to be a lord. He liked to think, perhaps, she was better than that.

But lords and ladies are cruel. And bastards are the most treacherous of all.

He chewed on his lip and nodded. "As m'lady commands."

Into the fire I go.

[steeledskin]

"...Do you have any requests? For the kitchen? I know Robin wants trout, but I don't think that's going to be possible."

[bullhorned]

"I grew up drinking a bowl of brown a day." Or none at all, on some days. "I'll eat anything I'm allowed to."

[steeledskin]

"There must be something," she prompted -- but then thought better of it. Perhaps it was even worse to tease the man about his meals, because she had seen the riots in King's Landing. Idly, she wondered if he had still been in town for the worst of it.


"Never you mind. We'll find favourites for you at the feast." And with that, she offered him only a slight (albeit friendly) bob of her head for a farewell.

[bullhorned]

He returned the nod, mumbled a thank you, and turned around. When she was gone, he released a breath. He collected his coat and draped it over his arms and gave a lingering look to the fire. In the cells, she'd been kind and understanding. Generous and friendly. A welcome voice in a lonely world with only an empty sky to look out upon. But now, things were different. he was being drawn to her, but whenever he looked into her eyes, there were moments when her eyes didn't say the same thing her lips were.

She and her father were up to something and he knew better than to think it was to groom him into kingship.

This prison is more dangerous than the one with the sky in front of me. If I stay here too long, they'll grow bored of me. After that...

If he was to survive to old age, he wouldn't be doing it here. He needed out. He needed the brotherhood. The cold lady never told lies or deceived. She only wanted the same thing they all did. Revenge.

[steeledskin]

Sansa was starting to dread the constant act. Certainly, it had been easy to lie to knights and to Robin and to whoever had first come to visit the Eyrie in those early days. It was even still easy to lie to Mya, because she had a broad grin and the good sense not to pressure Alayne about what had been inconsistencies in her fledgling lies. Mya Stone could spot a ruse, but she was too decent to reveal it.

But Sansa truly did regret deceiving Gendry. Mostly because she found she wanted him to know her, on the chance that he might like her. As it was, he only knew Alayne.

But Arya had been courageous enough to tell him who she was, Sansa chided herself. You? You are a coward in comparison.

That night, at dinner, she was the first to take her place in the High Hall. The head table was the only one set for a meal, the other benches and tables were left pushed in a pile against the wall. It was a house half-existing, half-packed-up. But at least the roast auroch dripped with fat and juices, and the candles burned bright. So too did a fire in the great stone hearth, because the snow was falling all the more thickly.

A storm was coming.

[bullhorned]

Gendry received more assistance than he would have liked in the washing up. A serving girl scrubbed his back for him, clipped his hair, and even gave him a long overdue shave. It was a rare thing for him to feel his chin so smooth. Since he'd starting to grow a beard, he'd only rarely had time to take a knife and keep it trimmed. After that, he was shown one of Lord Jon Arryn's suits to wear. He'd though to ask if his father had left any from his time being fostered here, but he realized that was so long ago that the clothes might have long rotted away.

He was offered silk, but he instead chose Jon's more knightly attire. It was meant for traveling on the road and not for sitting in halls to eat. The garb was not the most appropriate, but it was thicker and more coarse than the softer clothes he'd been offered instead. Gendry felt a bit more comfortable that way, even if only a little. But the bright colors made him feel as though he was a walking target.

When he arrived at the High Hall, there was only Alayne sitting. Food was still being set out, but the feast had largely been assembled. Only the boy lord and his maester had yet to be in attendance. Warily, Gendry approached the table and rested a hand on the back of a chair.

"M'lady," he said in greeting. "Am I late?"

[steeledskin]

"No. Rather, I suspect I'm early."

This time, she stood. Not out of deference, but so that she could welcome him -- as a lady of the house ought to welcome her guests. Sansa marvelled at the difference made by fresh clothing and a close trim, although she found she already missed the scruff of his chin. At one point, she thought that all gallant men ought to be cleanly shaven. But lately, she longed for the rougher aesthetic of the north.

Even so, Robert's bastard was handsome. More so when he smiles, she thought.

[bullhorned]

"Better to be early. Where do I sit?"

He could easily tell which seat was Robin's. It was the head of the table, large and important. But Alayne had one seat beside that chair. He suspected the maester would sit in the other. The question was whether the vacant seat next to Alayne was his or the one beside the maester. It would be presumptuous to take a seat next to her.

[steeledskin]

This problem became immediately apparent to her, too. Custom might require Gendry to sit as far away from her as possible, but custom also decreed that she was the acting head of this household in Lord Baelish's absence. Maester Colemon was an old curmudgeon, but he wouldn't kick up much of a fuss if she commanded the smith to sit at her side; at mealtimes, he was far too preoccupied with the arduous task of getting Robin to finish his plate.

A glint of mischief appeared in Sansa's expression. "Here," she touched the ornate wooden bauble topping the back of the chair next to her own. "It's nearer the fire. I assume, naturally, that being near it is your preference."

He had looked so at home between the flying sparks and the forge's glow.

[bullhorned]

The heat of the fire was welcome in the cold hall. In other places, the halls were cold enough he shivered. Here at least the distant glow of the fire promised warmth. Not nearly as much as the forge, though. My forge. For a few days more.

"If it pleases, m'lady."

He rounded the table and stood behind the seat, but felt keenly aware of how close this would be putting her near her. He just had to eat and pay that no mind. She was a lady and they'd have others watching besides.

"It all smells good."

[steeledskin]

She breathed in through her nose. Yes, she supposed it did smell lovely. But it smelled the same as almost any meal she'd had in the Eyrie -- meat. Meat meat and more meat, covered in herbs and wines. The only thing she missed about King's Landing was the delicate taste of some fish dishes and the craftsmanship displayed in their pastries.

Sansa returned to her seat, thereby freeing him of his duty to remain standing.

[bullhorned]

Gendry slumped into his seat beside her. He leaned forward, elbows planted on the table, and peered into the fire.

"What are they like? The Royces?"

[steeledskin]

"Traditionally, their house is seated at Runestone. But Nestor Royce--"

There was no delicate way to explain how Petyr had bought Nestor's support by raising him to lordship with a cadet branch: House Royce of the Gates of the Moon. "Lord Nestor supports my father's cause; the rest of his family -- Lord Yohn back in Runestone? Decidedly does not."