Egg, or Aegon, had slipped away once again—his head shaved, his name hidden, and his duties forgotten for a little while. Life on the road with Ser Duncan was far better than any castle. Today, he had been sent to gather food for supper. Though, if it were up to him, there would be no salt beef at all.

He wandered between the market stalls, glancing at fruits and bread, still muttering under his breath about Duncan’s terrible taste—

—and then he bumped into someone.

"Oh!—ah, I’m sorry!" The words came quickly, proper and practiced. He stepped back at once, eyes widening as the other child’s things fell to the ground. "That was my fault. Here—don’t fret, I’ve got it—" Egg dropped to his knees without hesitation, already picking up the scattered fruits and placing them back into the sack with careful hands.

"There—none are bruised, I hope." Once finished, he rose, brushing his hands lightly. His gaze then fell to the paper the other child held. A list. His curiosity sparked immediately. "Are you shopping as well?" He tilted his head slightly, then, after a small pause, reached for the paper when it was offered.

His eyes moved quickly across it, and a faint, approving hum escaped him. "Mm. That is a far better selection than what Ser Duncan would choose."

A small smile tugged at his lips—mischievous, but gentle. "If you wish, I could help you find the rest." He handed the list back, looking up with an easy, boyish confidence. "I know my way around a market well enough."