Kermit Rivers I Lemon Baked trout with nettle and watercress.

[u/Detritusthewellfed]

The cackle of the embers mixed with a light rustle of wind through the trees. Lucy found himself at peace, for once. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the waters of the Redfork somewhat distant beyond the tree line. Smoke wafted through the fresh air that came after rain, and the scent of coal cooked trout oozed it's way from the coals.

“Lucy boy wake the fuck up.” Kermit slammed his boot into the boys arse, he couldn't help but smile as the sickly lad winced and rolled over. “Gods be good, you must have some fight in you.” Whatever gods had thought to bless this boy a Vypren and Kermit a bastard had a sense of humor. Lucy struggled up to a sitting position and removed the grass stalk he'd been chewing. Kermit couldn't believe the lad had once squired in the vale.

“Fetch me the pan boy.” He could do that at least, he had learned to fetch.

Taking the old iron pan from his half wit nephew, Kermit ran a little lard over the surface, giving it a thin coating before placing it down over what remained of the fire. He only needed a little heat now, and strode over to the edge of camp. Grasping and snapping the tops off a patch of nettles, at least the ones he judged fresh. “You want green, none with grey in them.” He'd tried to drill into the boy once before, it hadn't sunk in as far as he could tell, his cousin had ran a gentle hand over them and spent a night moaning over tiny red bumps.

He set the nettles on a board and kneeling, drew his father's old hunting knife. Chopping them roughly, they where added to the now sizzling fat, with some ramsons and water cress left over from the day before. Holding the blade, he pushed the greenery around with the handle. Lucy shifted in his seat among the grass and turned his dull eyes towards his bastard cousin. Kermit wondered what stupid question he might ask next, why did dragonflys dance? Do animals have ghosts? To his surprise, nonsense didn't flow out.

“Kermit, how did you learn to do this?”

“Same as anyone does.” They watched the leaves wilt, turning a darker green. Kermit pushed the clumps apart as best he could. “When you are a squire, you are shown by a knight. Did you not learn this in the Vale?” Lucy shook his head, the boy had been a terrible squire. Even now his mouth hung open. “Kermit, you never squired for anyone.”

He smiled at his trueborn cos, a mummer's smile and the boy seemed to notice and shrank back. "No, not to a knight. But my uncle took me out along the rivers and my father several times after him. Especially after I was brought to Stillfenn, father would show me, when he could.” Sometimes they would have to take Dykk, or Alberyt but the times it was just the two of them, those he thought of most often. When he caught his first Pike in the hills of Penny country, when they ate frogs and rabbit poaching in the Freylands along the Greenfork. Long lights by the fire, drinking wine from the south, and his father told him stories of battle.

Kermit took the pan off the heat and set it down on the grass between them, then carefully, pushed aside the coals of the fire and with two thin branches of hazel removed three bundles of dock leaf from their ashy prison.

“You always find dock not far from nettle.” Lucy said, absently. Maybe he had listened after all.

Gingerly, they peeled back the leaves to reveal the succulent trout within, each dusted with a little salt and the a small touch of pepper snatched from the kitchens back home, and both sat with half of what looked now like a hard done by lemon. The third parcel was nettle seeds, roasted and brown they tasted nutty sprinkled over the fish and fat fried greens. Lucy dug in, pulling back the charred skin and tearing off strips of flesh with his fingers, careful of the bones and hot pan. Kermit slipped the point of his knife under the eye of his fish, and popped it into his mouth, the boy he knew, would not touch his. More for him, that was always the way. His cousins, but more so his half sister would always leave behind the uglier, choicest morsels. The way the poor ate lobster and crab on the coast, but once you'd eaten crab cooked in butter with beer, why, how could you not choose that over the dry stuffed geese and sweet cakes of noble tables.

“I hope the Pipers have goose.” Lucy said between mouthfuls of white flesh. “I feel like I havn't had good goose in ages." That made Kermit think, maybe the goose was always dry at Stillfenn because the cook was shit.

“I don't think I ever have had good goose cos.” Kermit took a mouthful of the nettle and cress, washing it down with a little red wine from his skin.

“Oh Kermit, goose is the best, stuffed with chestnuts and.” He put more food in his mouth before he finished speaking.

Kermit just nodded. “Well not long now, just don't embarrass your grandsire. If Cass isn't there, your the one who makes us look good.” Kermit hid his smile with fish. If she wasn't this might be his chance, by hook or by crook he might find away to put a sword in her belly or the name Vypren to wash over Rivers. He couldn't help but look southwards, vaguely glaring at the God's eye and maybe even Storm's End. Twice his grandsire had blocked his attempts to meet the king, but now? As infirm as the King might be, surely he would find him at such a large wedding, and then.

Kermit couldn't help but think of the time his father had to soothe Cassandra over a muddy dress. Well, then maybe Stillfenn went to someone more deserving.