It’s spring! Okay, it’s actually been spring for a while and is now edging into summer. But lately we’ve been seeing a profusion of two things—spring food festivals and Game of Thrones.
Everybody–from my history teacher to my best friend to the cobbler who mended my broken slipper (okay, maybe not him, but the others for sure)—eagerly awaits the return of the series on April 12th.
In the meantime, there’s no way to stem the flood of springtime food festivals that look pretty, smell pretty and are pretty horrible for your wallet. No really. Ham and cheese tarts the size of a spool of thread that sell like they’re the Kohinoor? Pass.
The funny thing is, I can’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like if the characters of our favourite show—the incestuous, athletic sex-loving, alcoholic, scheming, dragon-raising, backstabbing lot of them—came and faffed around Indian food festivals.
Or as close to faffing as you can get with the eternal sword of Damocles (or Daenerys) over your shoulder.
So here’s what I think we’d see if our favourite Westerosi folks ever got over themselves, stopped ruining their lives—and ours—to just join these food festivals, like us plebs do:
He’s that awkward, shady guy who’s been dragged to the festival and shuffles around, leering at girls but not looking at the food. When it’s time to go (or be unceremoniously thrown put because Robb won’t leash his wolf) he’s utterly relieved.
Something tells me Robb is the curly-haired innocent angel who just lopes around looking innocent and being a kid. He also ends up being asked to leave because he brings Grey Wind with him and people get uncomfortable with said wolf’s enthusiastic sniffing and pawing.
She’s a total nuisance; she won’t dress prettily, she brings along an apple and munches it stubbornly, she asks the vendors uncomfortable questions and frequently insults them outright, and after a while everybody scowls at her when they see her so she skulks off to find Jon.
Sansa loves these festivals. From the papery, silken bags of foreign tea to the chocolate cake that costs a kidney, she loves it all. She flutters around looking like a dazzling butterfly, always with a li’l bite to eat in her hand.
Also I like to think she links arms with Margaery and goes off to a quiet teahouse near Nehru Place, where they gossip and drink expensive tea unironically called ‘chai tea’……and do stuff. Look, let me have this.
I have a strong feeling Margaery uses these places to network, throw shade at the Lannisters and have secret picnics with Sansa.
After the fifth stranger takes a look at his face and asks him if he isn’t Ned Stark’s bastard, Jon stalks off huffily to sulk beside a rock. Later he goes and buys himself overpriced but sumptuous baked potatoes, and resolutely does not enjoy them.
Ned, much like his progeny, wanders around the fair looking utterly lost. He also looks scowly and grumpy, which dissuades people from selling him stuff—
…until he takes pity on a poor young girl and buys a muffin for two hundred bucks. Sheesh, Ned.
She swoops around with tremendous dignity and looks a bit harassed at the way her family is behaving. Eventually she ends up cutting off a conversation with some caterers about a future party because Grey Wind has bitten somebody (that somebody is a little shit and had it coming) and they’re worried they’ll get rabies.
Mentally she’s thankful she didn’t bring Rickon.
The only person rich enough to be here and not leave hungry, Cersei glides around like in sunglasses that cover most of her face and which cost about the same as Nigeria’s annual GDP. She’s not much of an eater, just picks things up and casually discards them, because her own disgust with the human race fills her belly.
He shows up, scopes out the scene, sees that there’s little to no alcohol and leaves faster than you can say ‘half-man’.
Jaime finds all of this incredibly boring, but stays for Cersei’s sake. He makes the occasional half-hearted inquiry about this patty or that cake, and eventually ends up buying a bar of hipster soap for reasons nobody understands.
Well, maybe he does a little bit. But nobody else.
This little shit. He’s an utter pain but nobody can say it to his face, because, well. Lannisters. He’s probably the one who gets bitten by Grey Wind and won’t stop screeching about how the Stark brat is smirking at him, mother, ugh, I want his head.
Dany is by turns imperious and a sweetheart, which means that she’s utterly polite for the most part until somebody reminds her with a nudge that she’s a Khaleesi. Then she’s suddenly regal, terrifying and pulls her dragons out of her purse.
Jorah trails after her like a puppy (okay, bear cub) as she sniffs tarts and delicately eats pastries.
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