|Summary:||Lady Lucienne and Ser Gedeon share a walk and some conversation. About tarts and charming bakers.|
|Related Logs:||How To Run Away Very Slowly — And probably a few others.|
|Shops. People. Ged and Lu and her entourage.|
Afternoon is waxing towards evening, the sun beginning its descent down towards the horizon. The marketplace is quieting as much of the selling and trading starts to come to a close. Gedeon is standing by a wagon with various furs and leather goods, speaking with one of the men who's loading it back up for the night.
As the sunlight wanes from bright to milky, a small noble retinue make their way through the market with the afternoon's purchases. Celine carries a basket from which the rich scents of herbs and a small bouquet of roses wafts, whilst Lucienne fawns over two little packets of tea. Behind the girls, a pair of guards walk solemnly, keeping a few paces between them for the lady's pleasure. This time, it's Luci who spots Gedeon first, and she nudges her handmaid with a smug little smile.
In time the scent of roses or the approach of the little retinue catches Gedeon's attention, and the blond knight steps away from the trader to offer Lucienne a smile and a bow. "My lady," he says, "It seems you've made good use of the day."
"Ser," greets Lucienne, her smile turned warmer for the knight. She hands her little tea packets back to Celine, who tucks them safely into the basket with all those other wonderful smells. "Some comforts to soothe me whilst I'm away from home," explains the lady. "And you? Would you care to walk with me for a while?"
"I should like nothing better, my lady," Gedeon says, stepping beside Lucienne and offering her his arm. "I hope you'll enjoy your stay here. I can't help but feel a little possessive of these streets, these days."
Lucienne curls a hand lightly about Gedeon's offered arm, whilst Celine drops back a step from the pair, keen eyes narrowing as she watches them. "Thankyou, Ser, I hope so too. There's still been no word from King's Landing, then?"
"None, yet," Gedeon replies with a small shake of his head, "but such things take time. The wait has not yet been unreasonably long, and I have already waited months since all of this began. I can manage a little longer to know the end of it."
"Your patience is admirable, Ser," Lucienne praises, the corners of her smile drawing a little tighter. "And tell me, if you please, are you without a squire now that Rowan has made his way back to Ser Jarod?"
"I am, at present," Gedeon says, his blue eyes regarding the way Lucienne's smile tightens, "though there are a few lads back at Oldstones I'm considering. I haven't yet had the chance to choose among them. I had heard Rowan was Jarod's squire, again."
"It's a very curious thing," remarks Lucienne idly, watching Gedeon sidelong, "The story of squire Rowan, is it not? Did you find there was not so much you could teach him, after all? I was pleased, of course, to hear of his return - but rather surprised."
"I suppose we found that in fighting style, he and I were alike. But in teaching and learning style…" Gedeon sighs softly and shakes his head. "What Rowan needed, I couldn't offer. It seemed the better thing to release him from my service."
"I see." It is quite clear that Lucienne is not entirely convinced, given the subtle shift in her tone and the way she glances out in front of them thoughtfully. Her chin lifts a touch, her dark eyes rolling skyward, and after a moment's passing, she shares: "I'd heard it somewhat different."
"Did you?" Gedeon asks, smiling faintly as he regards the lady on his arm. "Perhaps, if you might tell me what you heard, I might be better able to clarify."
That lady twists her face back round, her chin still tilted as she rakes a look from those blue eyes of Gedeon's, down his face, and back up. Lucienne's own betray a smile that doesn't quite curve on her lips. "Your fighting style," she suggests, tone mild, "Was perhaps not as the Lord Rowan expected it?"
"We're both slender," Gedeon tells the lady, "it suited him well enough. It's possible some of the theories behind it did not, however."
Lucienne blinks slowly, the only interruption in her study of Gedeon's gaze. "In any instance, something that transpired during his time as your squire has sowed seeds of concern." She draws a short breath, released in a disproportionately long, soft sigh. "And I find myself wondering."
Gedeon nods a little, more a gesture to accept such concern than to agree with it. "And what is it you are wondering, my lady?"
Lucienne answers that question with a tilt of her head, and one of her own: "If the most delicious tart you ever laid your eyes upon, Ser, was set before you, yet everyone at the table were shouting it was poisoned - would you still take a bite?"
"Well," Gedeon considers as he walks calmly alongside Lucienne, his head canting a little, "that would all depend on what I thought of the baker."
"The baker, in this instance, is very charming. As are his kitchen staff." Lucienne can't help but to smile, finally relenting her stare to take a brief glance at the path in front. "But those at the table…" Her grip tightens faintly on Gedeon's arm, and Lucienne looks back, serious once more. "You could just tell me," she says, each word spilling out slowly, subtly overpronounced.
Gedeon returns the smile, soft and warm, moving his free hand to settle it lightly over Luceinne's where it rests on his other arm. "My lady," he answers gently, "I swear to you, you have nothing to fear from Lord Ser Anton Valentin. Or, if we shall return to tarts, the ones who cry poison may simply not appreciate the taste. I gather you are more discerning."
"More discerning," repeats Lucienne, her smile curving again. "I…" She pauses to give her response a little extra thought. "I don't fear for my safety in your Lord's care, in his household. But this with Lord Rowan… if we shall return to tarts, it is how those at the table would regard me for taking a bite, that troubles me."
"Well, if you take a bite and survive and are better pleased by it," Gedeon says, brows lifting, "how else would they regard you but as their beloved sister and daughter? If their cries are only in loving protest of your well being, all you needs do is show them you are well."
"That's a very lovely way to look at it, Ser," muses Lucienne. "And perhaps you are right. But whatever has Lord Rowan troubled, has Ser Jarod rankled as well, and I suspect he's already somewhat aware of my more… discerning tastes in sweets."
"I expect Ser Jarod means to speak with me about such concerns in short order, and I will do as I can to put his fears to rest," Gedeon says. "What came between Lord Rowan and myself has naught to do with your family."
Her hold on Gedeon's arm slackens a little, and Lucienne finds her smile again. "Very well. Might I beg of you one small favour, Ser?"
Gedeon dips his head a little too deeply for a nod, though not really deep enough for a bow. "Of course, my lady."
"I'm all too aware of how Ser Jarod likes to do his talking," says Lucienne dryly. "Perhaps you might keep your fists from his face, if it comes to such. He's something of a diplomat now, and diplomats are better received without black eyes."
"I hope it won't come to that," Gedeon agrees with a warm smile for such a favor, "but should it, you've my word. I won't injure his face. I hear diplomats with stooped posture, however, are much respected."
Lucienne breathes out a laugh, her shoulders shaking softly. "Thankyou, Ser. The rest of him, if it should come to that, is certainly fair game." Mood shifted, she turns to lighter conversation for the remainder of the walk - how trade is faring, the latest book she's reading, etcetera.