LION TRAP, game of thrones

𝐈𝐈. feast

"Oh, hm... meat, lots of it. And cheese. And fresh bread, oh gods, how I miss fresh bread. So definitely that too. And a savory pie, still warm. Bacon - did I mention bacon? I need it."

Sansorr gave the innkeeper a few golden coins. She looked at him a little strangely, but the money seemed to convince her.

Jaime had stopped at a tavern about halfway between Stokeworth and Kings Landing. Jaime had actually wanted to make the journey in a day, but Sansorr was still too weak. He hadn't said anything about it himself, of course. Jaime had noticed.

Sansorr looked across the table at Jaime. The Lannister was plucking splinters from the wood of the table, his golden hand resting on his thigh, hidden beneath the table.

Their table was in a small recess, relatively shielded from view, and so Sansorr moved from his chair to join Jaime on the bench. Evening light fell in on them, making Jaime's hair shimmer.

Outside Kings Landing, Sansorr's thoughts were different - freer. As if the ghosts in his head were less strong here. Still, sometimes he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Blood and bones and brains and...

Sansorr bit his lower lip and the pain brought him back to the real world. To Jaime, who looked at him in astonishment.

Sansorr stretched out his splinted leg under the table and massaged his thigh, which was hard and tense.

"I would have lost my leg without you... Thank you. I couldn't save your hand."

"You didn't let me bleed to death, so you saved my life," Jaime said simply.

Sansorr's stomach growled and the Lannister next to him laughed softly, causing Sansorr to roll his eyes.

"The landlady probably thinks you're an imbecile."

"So be it," Sansorr grinned, "I haven't eaten in half an eternity."

Something changed in Jaime's gaze and Sansorr looked away. He was outside and he was alive. What did it matter what was behind him? The road ahead was much more important.

The main thing was that he got something to eat now.

How many times he hadn't gotten anything didn't fucking matter now.

The landlady came again, first with bread and cheese, later with savory pies, crispy bacon and thick ham. "The gods sent you," grinned Sansorr. The woman pursed her lips and left.

Sansorr took some of the bacon, moaning with delight as the taste filled his senses.

Jaime next to him had blushed again and looked around as if he was afraid he would be seen and recognized with Sansorr.

"Don't look like that and eat," Sansorr ordered and held out a piece of bread with ham to Jaime. The blond took the bread, but ate with much less delight.

Not Sansorr's fault if Jaime didn't enjoy this.

Sansorr destroyed everything the landlady had brought, every last scrap. Because when would he get something to eat again? When would the hunger come back, gnawing at his body and mind, eating him up until there was nothing left of him. So he ate, stuffing his body until he couldn't swallow another mouthful.

The tavern around him spun and Sansorr groaned softly, pressing a hand to his stomach. Don't, don't... When else would he get something to eat again, when else would he be allowed to?

He jumped up and made his way through the crowded part of the tavern and outside before falling to his knees near the small stable and spitting out everything he swallowed before. His stomach cramped and he trembled violently.