Call me Out

[dammitmasa]

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code by cawaii
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- 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.

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[steeledskin]

Cautiously: "If you ask for more, there will be."

Gods -- but where was he putting it all? She had watched King Robert eat, before. But he was large man prone to doughy limbs. Gendry looked so solid.

[bullhorned]

He raised a wary hand. "No no, gods no. The sweets will be enough. I've never feasted, is all."

Even if he was hungry for more, he'd never ask for more. Not only would that get your ear twisted in Flea Bottom, it would be presumptuous to request more. He'd already put himself forward a bit too much. Especially given how Lord Robin seemed to be quietly picking at his food and Maester Colemon was pacing himself as he ate, seeming to be lost in some quiet but judgmental state.

[steeledskin]

"It isn't much of a feast," she started -- but her words died out. Her handmaiden had told her, once, that the men of Flea Bottom would hate her because her horse ate better than their children did.

She only had to make eye contact with a member of the serving staff, gesture gently with a hand, and the young woman was off to fetch the tarts. In light of Gendry's simple pleasure at being fed, the act made her feel unwholesome. She had never felt so before -- even at her most bruised and bloodied, she'd always felt her right to issue orders.

"I wonder if there will be time to take the contents of the pantry wit us when we go." When. Not if. "If we leave it, it will spoil."

There. One small step on the way to being conscientious about what she had and others didn't. At least she cold prove that she would not leave it all to go rotten in her absence. What a waste.

[bullhorned]

Colemon nodded at that. "This summer has been long. A longer winter may yet be waiting. We shall want for any bit of grain we can have before long. We'll need to bring as much as can be managed. Were it not for our recent ordeals, we might have begun sending the stores away already."

Gendry wondered what those recent ordeals were, but decided he'd best ask later. Four fruit tarts were provided for each of them. They were baked crisply, with lumps of fruit inside them. Fresh fruit was becoming harder to come by and so these were made with dried fruit that had been soaked to bring back some of their juicy flavor. Not quite so good as what the others were accustomed to. But for Gendry, it would be the best thing he'd ever eaten.

[steeledskin]

"Try it with the cream," she suggested -- offering a little pot of the thick stuff after she had pushed aside her plate of half-finished meal. Being the lady of the house meant she didn't have to finish her vegetables before moving on to dessert.

Her smile was small and demure and hardly felt. She was thinking about Colemon's words. Supplies would be short, eventually. And she barely had a full pot of the dye Lysa used to provide. How long, she wondered, before her roots began to show...?

[bullhorned]

He'd eaten a sticky bit already with his fingers, which he now had to lick clean so he could add the cream. He mumbled a thank you and added it to his tart.

"S'good," he said at last. "Are there lords who eat only sweets all the time? If you were allowed, I don't know how anyone would pass it up."

[steeledskin]

"Our mothers and our fathers would never allow it. And then we become mothers and fathers who would never allow our children to gorge themselves on sugar only."

A dutiful explanation for a dutiful woman. But it had a twinge of regret buried there, if only for all the lemoncakes she was denied as a child because she'd refused to eat carrots. Eventually, she'd come to terms with the root vegetable. She liked it well enough, now. But oh, when she was younger...!

[bullhorned]

"Seems a bit cruel, holding it against your children just because your parents wouldn't let you."

Gendry had little concept of foods that were nourishing for you or simply indulgent. He'd never had any instruction in health. When you lived at the bottom, you couldn't afford to choose which foods were best for you, only what was available. So why not eat sweets all the time? It tasted good, so he reasoned it could only be good for you. Lords only ate the best.

[steeledskin]

"My mother used to tell me the greener the food, the stronger you'll be." Green foods were not always accessible all year 'round in Winterfell. And they were expensive to import. But Catelyn had been from Riverrun, and she had taken her taste palate with her.

Robin piped up from Sansa's other side: "My mother always let me have whatever I wanted!"

And there, Sansa thought with a frown, is my argument made for me.

[bullhorned]

I grew up on brown and I'm stronger than the lot of you. Gendry finished his tart and licked his fingers clean. Maybe he shouldn't gorge himself on sweets. But he truly doubted he'd ever have to worry about it being a choice.

"My master told me hard work is what makes you strong. Pain is strength."

[steeledskin]

"Food fuels hard work."

It wasn't something she knew innately. She had never been taught such a sentence. But she had overheard it said in the Small Council's chamber when she'd dared to stop by its doors and listen in on old men talking. They had been discussing the grain shortage in King's Landing, and Petyr had made the persuasive point that starving the smallfolk would only lead to an unproductive city. She had almost loved him, in that moment -- so eloquent and gentle-mannered. She wondered now whether it had been part of some larger ruse, for she knew better than to think Petyr would do anything that did not benefit himself in the end.

And if pain is strength, then I must be very strong indeed...

[bullhorned]

"But not sweets," he concluded. Which he felt was what she was trying to drive at all along.

[steeledskin]

"So I have been told."

[bullhorned]

It didn't seem right, but Gendry let it go.

"I can load the stores," he said instead. "I just need to know where it goes."

[steeledskin]

Colemon supplied his answers: "The carts will have to be taken out from storage. The household will have to pack. We ought to warn them of it tonight, independent of Lord Robin's decision in the morning. Fallon, the steward's nephew, will help you."

Sansa cut a narrow wedge into her tart and pulled it out from the larger circle. Half a bite's worth, maybe. But before she brought it to her mouth, she added: "We will need to take a few things from the library."

[bullhorned]

Books. What are books good for?

But he nodded dutifully. "Aye. I'll find Fallon."

With his plate finished, he sat back again and marveled. It was a strange thing to have a voice, even a small one, in the company of lords, ladies, and wise maesters. He'd never get used to this. He also suspected he'd never live long enough to.

[steeledskin]

...Even if they left the Eyrie, she believed he still needed to learn certain things. If he was to claim his blood even in some tiny capacity, he would need to know words. Places. Maybe even histories. If his attitude towards food was any indication, she also suspected fee would require a steady hand to keep him from filling his lessons with the literary equivalent of sweets. She hat no doubt he would be like Arya: interested in all the wrong things.


But whose interests had turned out to be wrong in the end? Sansa frowned. All her fairy tales had failed her.

"I have my own things to pack," she announced, standing from her chair in one motion.

[bullhorned]

He watched her rise with mixed feelings. But there was little gained in objecting. So instead he licked the pit of tart off his thumb and stood.

"I should see to the forge. M'lord, m'lady." He nodded at each one respectively. "Thank you for the feast."