“ I… Have no idea what that is,” He grinned sheepishly, “ But that sounds really good,” TO be true, it sounded fancy to Lucas- something that people far above him ate. He felt small at the reminder that he was an outsider and that he was nothing to these lords and ladies. But… When he looked at Lysa, and saw who she was, he remembered that there was nothing to be afraid of. Lords and Ladies were just like the rest of them. And Lysa… Lysa was Lysa- And he was glad for that.
He followed her to the kitchen, stepping through the hall way carefully. He turned his head to look at the paintings that hung along the walls. He noted that some were new, while there were a few that seemed aged. then, Lucas remembered that this was the Eyrie- The seat of the Arryns, and these paintings were likely to have been commissioned by all those Arryns before Lysa’s husband.
A thought came to him and he had to stop himself from asking her where the library was. Surely they must have an enormous collection as their family and this mansion has been here for centuries. Books on old, half lost literature. Derrek would enjoy himself there no doubt. But for now, Lucas had to focus on Lysa, and the dinner that they were about to make.
The kitchen was enormous and Lucas can’t help but think that his childhood home in Bristol would fit snugly into this room. He wondered why would anyone need this big of a kitchen? What was the point? But surely, once not too long ago, Jon Arryn would have hosted dinner parties here, and the same went to his fathers and their fathers. Lucas imagined a dozen servants and cooks running around between the stoves and the counters, preparing feasts. What a sight.
He went to the counter where he saw all the ingredients set up in bowls and pans. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of silver and turned to Lysa when she handed him a kitchen blade. He blinked and nodded at her instructions as he took the knife into his hand. He felt the creature in his mind go crazy, jumping and clawing at the insides of his skull, screeching at him to stab the knife through her and eat her flesh for dinner instead. But Lucas ignored it and the maddening ache in his fingers and turned to the pecans.
As he chopped them, one by one, then again into smaller pieces, he imagined little heads, not unlike the one that annoying little bird had on his shoulders. He reached for the bowl and tossed the pecans into the bread crumbs, rolling the bowl around to mix them.
“ Well, if you consider popping frozen pizza into the oven cooking, then yes, i cook very often at home,” He smiled, glancing at her, “ But i used to- I mean, actually cook, when I was a kid. The least my brother and i could do after school- while our mum was working her shifts, though i was never really good at it outside of the usual stuff like pasta and chicken chop,”
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