munebox | Call me Out

Call me Out

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- I will play prose or brackets, but definitely prefer prose.

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Gendry simply looked lost.

"Her sister...?"

"There are two Stark daughters. Arya is the younger; did she really never mention her sister to you...?"

Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps Sansa wanted it, too: to fade from Arya's thoughts, and not become a part of her bitter prayer.

It was strange, he thought, that Arya would never mention a sister. He supposed that meant she was dead. Or perhaps in Winterfell. Which, he realized, would likely mean the same thing. Still, curiosity got the best of him.

"I suppose it never came up. Were you friends with her, too? What happened to her?"

"Good friends. I was better friends with her sister than I ever was with Arya." And isn't that the truth. "But she was--" Engaged to a cruel lord was a story she'd already told. "She was wed to the imp. Tyrion Lannister."

Tyrion Lannister... Gendry had seen him before, from a distance. But he'd never met him. All the same, the thought of Arya's sister marrying not only a dwarf, but a Lannister at that...

"I suppose that's why she never said anything. She was trying to get to her family. Her mum, her brothers, uncles, or whatever she could manage. Trying to find her sister would just get her captured." The Imp... "But the imp killed the king. So what happened to her?"

Tell him she died; put Sansa Stark into the dirt until you need her again. But for all the sharp self-loathing trapped in her rib-cage, she couldn't bring the proverbial sword down on her own neck. She touched it, now. Her fingertips were cold on her collarbone.

"I...I can't be certain. My father and I left King's Landing shortly after King Joffrey's death. I never learned what happened to her. I suppose it makes a poor tale for her sister."

A poor tale... He let the talk of Arya's sister fall to the side for now. There was something more pressing.

"All I said about her saying those names. You can't tell anyone. It can't be in the letter."

The Boltons were traitors that served the Lannisters now. If they found out Arya's treachery, he could only guess what they might do. After all, she was married to a bastard now.

"I won't write a word of it."

Funny. Lord Tyrion had kept a list, as well. Aiding him in plotting some petty revenge had been a moment of rare companionship; it suggested he might have been worth knowing, had things been different. But she believed the people on Arya's list deserved worse than a sheepshifting.

"Maybe I shouldn't mention her sister, either." We did not part on good terms. "Just The Bull."

He nodded. "Thank you, m'lady."

Even now, the idea of the letter left him feeling torn. He wanted to think it was good Arya was home at long last. But nothing about it felt right. Arya was so strong willed, he could never imagine her submitting to marriage. And if she did, it would only be forced. And at great pain.

"Pity we can't see her."

"Gendry," she seemed to start ever-so-slightly from her chair. Just a little lean forward. Toward him, head bowed, as if to consult him more confidentially. "Arya would never--"

But Sansa had seized the wrong moment to make her move. At that same second, the High Hall's doors flung open and in marched a rag-tag procession. Robin and his Maester were followed by a handful of servants. They hovered awkwardly in a way that suggested to Sansa the little lord had recently taken on of his fits. Extra hands were often kept near after Robin recovered. Just in case.

Circumstances spoiled her would-be bold attempt to confide in the young man sitting next to her. Too late. She slid smoothly back into her seat and took a shuddering breath.

Would never what?

His mind whirled as he tried to imagine what she might have been leading to. The one that stuck out in his mind was the one he'd been going back to for some time now. She would never marry the bastard of Bolton.

These questions would have to be answered later. He stood abruptly and nodded his head.

"Lord Arryn." He said no more, because that was the extent of the courtesies he knew. Acknowledge their title and name, keep your head bowed, and don't speak unless asked to.

"Sweetrobin," Sansa summoned her smile. "You have been missed." And she permitted the child to hang off her arm a moment before he found his chair. Normally, he might fidget. But he looked tired tonight. More tired, even, than Maester Colemon. The ancient man bowed his head and mumbled something about how he had needed to give a little more sweetsleep this evening.

Sansa flattened her mouth into a distraught line. What did she worry about more? Robin's health, or how it must sound to Gendry -- a lord treated with such heavy medications.

Even more distressing was a scrap of information Colemon saw fit to announce with a fuller voice: "The snow gets worse. At this rate, the way down from the Eyrie will be unnavigable by mid-day tomorrow. Lord Baelish should not have left us here; I told him it was time to move down the mountain."

The boy looked so weak and worn that Gendry began to wonder just how healthy this boy was. He'd seemed small already, but now he began to understand what Alayne meant when she said he might never fit into his father's clothes. He may not live long enough for that.

But the thought of being trapped in this freezing keep took priority. "Then shouldn't we be leaving now?"

"My Lord Father has given his orders." And who was she to defy them? Indeed, she was downright unwilling to disobey. "If we left without his blessing..."

"But if we stay, what then?" He looked from her to the maester, looking for some sort of answer. If he had it his way, they'd leave and worry about her father later.

Sansa gently bent her wrist to the work of slicing a manageable piece off her now lukewarm portion of meat. They had waited so long for the others; a chill had settled into their meal.

"We would be cut off from the world," she allowed. And yet it was clear she feared disobedience above isolation, however ruinous. She envied Hendry his boldness, even if the suggestion was marked by common sense.

A snort from the maester proved he sided with the smith; Coleman did not want to be caught here during a storm.

Gendry did something daring and perhaps stupid. Hee had no desire to stay and freeze. Even if it might men disobedience. He turned to the boy. "What of you, m'lord? Would you prefer to stay?"

He decided that her father's authority could possibly be trumped by the boy, if it came to their survival.

Edited 2013-12-13 21:43 (UTC)

Robin leaned forward against the table and turned his head towards Gendry. It was as if he was only now properly noticing the smith's attendance. Thankfully, noticing him game with something of a toothish grin. Toothish except for the teeth he was missing -- youth was such a mercurial time, and Robin had lost two teeth just last week.

"It is so terribly boring, here. If we left, would I get to wear my helmet? Would we see danger?" Robin asked with childish delight. Alayne sat back, drained already by the prospect of choosing which commands to obey.

"The helmet's not yet done." He realized this could discourage the boy, however
So he adapted. "But if we start, we'll need to save the coal for warming the keep." Our so he supposed.

The maester seemed to realize what was going on and was between a mix of alliance at the smith's impertinence and realizing there was value to find along with it. But he was easy of taking a strong stance. "The journey shall be perilous enough I'm these conditions. Impossible after that."

And it was then that Sansa realized she may have overestimated Gendry's earnestness. Or else underestimated his slyness. It was an unpleasant realization, and it made her withdraw into herself. It made her reconsidering her behaviour, and made her ask whether or not she'd already given too much of herself over to a man who might not be as predictable as she had expected.

A stronger woman would seek to have him come to heel. She had witnessed Cersei do this with even imminent members of her household. Oh, how their defiance would crumble in the face of femininity wielded so masterfully. But Sansa only wanted to run and hide.

She did not feel secure enough to protest any further, and so: "I will do as Lord Robin commands. His comfort is paramount."

I am a coward, still. Petyr will laugh at me.

Gendry watched the exchange as he separated bits of meat with his finger. It was cold, yes, but it was miles better than anything he grew up with. Of all the people at the table, he seemed to be putting the most away. Little surprise, given his company. A woman, a child, and an old man. The fact that none of them had admonished him had only served to embolden him.

Though when he happened to look aside at Alayne, he thought he caught something change in her demeanor. She'd never had much of a fire in her, but what she did have, it seemed to have shied away. He didn't dare to say anything now, so he only looked at Robin.

"Aye. I'll do the same, m'lord."

This left Robin with the unenviable chore of making a decision. Even he felt its weight, and even the promise of a snow-bound adventure lost some of its sparkle when faced with a trio of souls waiting on his very whim. The pressure was far more intensive than he liked, and it through him into a sullen sulk. "I'm tired, Alayne," he whined -- picking at the trailing sleeves of her dress and smearing cranberry sauce on what would otherwise be a perfectly serviceable fabric.

She did not chide him for it. Instead, she touched her forehead to his and took in a deep breath. "Soon, it will be far too dark to travel down the mountain. Sooner than we could possibly pack. Save your deliberations for the morning, my lord." Then, to Colemon: "...We have at least that long, don't we?"

The Maester nodded.

Gendry was disappointed to see the child ultimately make no choice. It was not how a lord should behave, he thought. They were not always kind, but they were always decisive. When Tywin Lannister marched into Harenhal, he took control of the situation immediately. He knew exactly what needed to be done and wasted no time doing it.

He tried to remember this was a child. But so was Arya. And she'd managed to assert herself as leader of their small trio without any issue. The boy lord, however...

"Gives us time to eat, then."

With that acknowledged, he stuffed a roll in his mouth.

Sansa pushed the pieces of food around her plate. Her appetite had waned considerably since the meal's outset. Of course, she couldn't say that she wasn't hungry. Saying such things only brought attention to them, and attention was the last thing she craved. Idly, she wondered how Gendry could eat so much at a time like this -- where even the structure and destination of tomorrow was so up in the air. Undecided. Such uncertainty made her sick.

Best not to mention the choice at all, and stick to the subjects which were safe and appealing. Appealing to him, at least, as she watched him pile his plate higher.

"Save room for sweets."

He turned to her, surprised. "Sweets? There's going to be more?"

The food made available to them was enough to feed a family for a week. And now she mentioned more. It was unfathomable to imagine.

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do note the keywords if you can. they weren't intentional.

Clearly I need more meaningful keywords

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