Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sansa’s eyes shot open the moment she heard the soft squeak of her bedroom window being opened. She waited for a moment for the sound to continue and this moment to clarify itself. Once it opened further, she slowly reached for the wooden baseball bat she kept under her bed and kicked the covers off herself with as little noise as possible.

It was so early in the morning that it was still quite dim in her room, especially with the curtains pulled shut. The window creaked again, and a small figure began to enter. Sansa glanced down at her pajamas, wishing she hadn’t decided to sleep in tiny turquoise satin shorts. She took a deep breath and raised the bat, readying her swing. The small creature landed softly in a nimble crouch, and Sansa swung with all her strength.

“Hey!” Arya hissed furiously, ducking quickly.

Sansa advanced, pointing the bat squarely into her sister’s chest. “This is what you get for breaking and entering.”

“Sorry.” Arya shrugged, nonchalant.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you kidding me right now with this rebel teen bullshit behavior? Did you seriously sneak out last night? Also, more importantly, you snuck out wearing that?” Sansa demanded angrily.

She tucked her long red hair behind her ears and stuck her hands on her hips. “It’s our first day of school. We haven’t even been here a week. What were you doing?” Sansa hissed in a whisper.

The room had lightened some with brighter morning light and a breeze ruffled the curtains from the open window. Arya rolled her eyes, pulling her dirty sweatshirt over her head and going to her dresser across the room, rifling through a drawer for a clean t-shirt.  Their new bedroom was still full of unpacked boxes.

Sansa went to her bed and rolled the bat back under it before sitting down in the middle of it with an impatient huff. She watched Arya finish yanking off her muddy jeans before flouncing onto the other bed, face down and sprawling. Sansa sat primly, arms folded, staring at her sister’s back, hoping that she could feel her eyes boring into her and it was making her too uncomfortable to sleep.

Arya sighed, and turned her head to face Sansa. Half of her face was smushed into the pillow, so she looked at Sansa through one squinting eye and mumbled exhaustedly into it rather than to Sansa.

“Look, I promise I’ll tell you everything, okay? But I’m really beat, and unlike you, I didn’t get a full night’s beauty rest. I’d like to sleep at least a little before I have to put on that ridiculous uniform and parade around St. Marks.”

“You don’t like the kilts we have to wear?” Sansa asked, glancing over to where hers was hung, neatly ironed, on the back of her closet door.

“You do?” Arya asked incredulously. “Ugh, yeah, I guess you would.” She mumbled with finality and distaste before turning her face away again and dozing off.

Sansa rolled her eyes at her little sister’s remark. When they’d been picking out school uniform outfits for their new school, Sansa had gotten the last of the plaid kilts and Arya, scowling, had chosen some matronly navy slacks. 

Sansa liked her little uniform. It made her feel cute. They’d just moved to Shaker Heights, Ohio from Belvedere, California. Her father, Ned Stark, had been the city attorney there. At their old school in California, uniforms hadn’t been a requirement and the dress code hadn’t generally been enforced.

Sansa drew her thin knees up to her chest and watched her sister’s back rise and fall with slow, steady breaths. The room was getting brighter and hotter with the morning sun creeping in.

She missed their old house. She missed it so much. Their home was built into a cliff above the Richardson bay and from all windows on the southeast side of the enormous, palatial home perched high above the cove- you could see the golden gate bridge alighting the horizon. She’d had her own room, and the walls had been painted robin’s egg blue- a shade lighter, like you were on the inside of the egg about to poke through to the sunshine on the other side of the shell.

Arya and Sansa had haphazardly taped paint swatches to their new bedroom wall. Sansa was favoring delicate turquoise colors and periwinkles, with a few beautiful mint greens, while Arya had selected some harsh fuchsias and greys.

Sansa sighed. She picked up the small alarm clock off the nightstand between their beds and saw she still had three hours until she even had to be at school. The house was still and quiet, except for the faraway rough snores coming from one of her three older brothers sleeping upstairs. They each got their own bedroom up there, in a converted and enormous attic. It was a decision that Sansa contested heatedly in the first few days in their new home.

Her and Arya’s bedroom was at the end of the hall from their parents, while Bran and Rickon were downstairs. Bran had it worst, she mused while stretching her arms above her head. At least she and Arya were relatively close in age, while Bran, eight, had to share a bedroom with Rickon- who was just a baby still, only three years old.

Her satin shorts pooled around her ankles and she kicked them off, looking for a pair of clean leggings on the floor by her bed. She grabbed a ratty Runaways shirt of Arya’s and pulled it over her head before grabbing her sneakers and iPhone and tiptoeing out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

===+=== 

She ran along the sidewalk with her carefully curated Spotify workout playlist pumping in her ears and urging her forward. It was currently on “Roar” by Katy Perry but before that had been “Party Up” by DMX.

She had to give Ohio credit for one thing, though, and that was the authenticity of the approaching autumn. The way the old oak trees curled over the quiet street and dripped leaves of gold and orange was amazing, and the air had a crispness to it that felt bracing. Autumns in Belvedere had been very rainy and wet, for the most part. Sansa ran past Victorian-style homes similar to her family’s, all towering monuments to 1920’s craftsmanship.

She took a sharp and sudden right down another street at random, figuring she could always use Google maps on her phone to find her way back home later. The street sloped downwards gently and wound off to the left, and Sansa kept running full-tilt down the decline. Ahead, she saw a wrought iron fence encasing idyllic grassy lawns and a small duck pond. Assuming it was a park, she sprinted into the road to get a closer look.

Her music had been too loud for her to hear his motorcycle roar around the bend.

She felt the vibrations on the road, though, and snapped her head around just in time to see an enormous and scarred hand close around the hand lever brake. When it wasn’t enough to stop in time, he used his massive bodyweight to countersteer the bike and she heard the tires squealing as the huge man on the motorcycle barreled towards her.

She didn’t know what instinct it was that made her get out of the way in a nanosecond, but she was thankful for it. She also didn’t know why the instinct instructed her to leap as she had, over the man and the motorcycle like she was diving neatly into a lake, but instead of hitting the water, she hit the pavement with her palms and somersaulted forward. She stood upright neatly and immediately, and jogged back to where the man was laying under his bike, trying to remove his helmet.

She yanked the earbuds out of her ears and wound the cord around her wrist. She pulled the motorcycle off of him; surprised she was able to do so. She’d always thought they’d looked much heavier than that. Technology these days, she supposed.

The man was built like an ox. He was built, period. He had strong arms and broad shoulders and from what she could see, a perfectly tapered waist that made her feel like a cartoon wolf- cartoon hearts for eyes, cartoon tongue unfurling on the floor. Ah-ooo-ga.

He pried his helmet off with a groan, and from where Sansa knelt; she saw all high cheekbone and full lips. He had dark hair that was nearly black, and it was longish and falling into his eyes. 

When he sat up and turned his head to look at her, she saw the burns. Half of his face was covered in burn scars that had long since healed, but still tugged at one corner of his mouth. His eyes were grey and glinting with what she interpreted as fury.

He stood upright and advanced on her and Sansa felt a sudden stab of fear- he was huge, he was so tall. He was wearing a dark grey t-shirt under a worn brown leather coat that fit him perfectly, and she saw beneath the hem of his dark rinse jeans that he was wearing steel-toed work boots. He had to be in his late 20’s, at least.

She stood up and backed away a few steps as he got closer, but she didn’t run away.

“Stop, lass.” He commanded gruffly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He was a full foot taller than she was, at least. He towered over her. He gazed at her, top to bottom, his brow furrowed.

“There’s not a mark on you.” He said.

Sansa shrugged. She suddenly wished she’d worn makeup.

“Are you alright?” He rumbled. She nodded.

“Good.” He exhaled. “Now you can tell me what the fuck you were doing running out into street like that. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you some kind of idiot? Don’t they teach little girls to look both ways before crossing the street?” He growled menacingly at her.

Sansa backed away from him again, rolling her eyes and unfurling her headphones and beginning to put them back into her ears. What a fucking asshole.

“Hey, girl, what are you even doing coming to a bloody cemetery this early?” He asked to her retreating back.

Sansa paused in her scrolling through tracks and turned back around to look up at him. He pointed behind her, to her right. She looked in that direction and saw old and crumbling gravestones she hadn’t noticed before, edged with dark green moss and dusted with autumn leaves.

“What are you even doing leaving a cemetery this early?” She shot back rudely. He glowered at her.

“We’re done here. Thanks for running me over, mister.” She told him, and turned around again.

When she reached the gates of the cemetery, her speed picked up to a jog. After a few seconds, her curiosity overcame her and she left the path to duck behind a thick maple tree. With her music still blasting through her headphones, she peered around the tree’s trunk to watch him.

He was stuffing the spilled contents of his leather satchel back inside it. He slung it across his shoulder and reached for his helmet, placing it back over his head.  He walked to where his motorcycle lay on the road. He easily pulled it upright again, and swung his legs over to straddle it.

He looked in her direction and Sansa yanked herself back behind the tree. She heard him kickstart the bike and she didn’t move again until she heard its low rumble fading in the distance.

She only ran for another few minutes, sprinting through the beautiful cemetery and autumn leaves until she decided it was finally time to get ready for her first day of school. When she was leaving Lake View Cemetery, she saw something on the road where the man had crashed.

She picked up the large wooden crucifix curiously. She might have been able to justify a crucifix in a cemetery, but the most peculiar thing was that the end of it had been crudely sharpened into a dangerous-looking point. She lightly pressed the pad of her fingertip to it, wondering. 

Chapter Text

==+== 

The moment she stepped out of the car and stood next to Arya, Sansa felt the stares from other students. She smoothed her plaid skirt, self-conscious that maybe her mother had hemmed it too short. Theon gracelessly clambered out of the backseat behind her with a muttered swear and shut the door of the boys’ shared Jeep Liberty. He stood next to her and the five Stark siblings paused for a moment to take in the sight of their new school. 

Sansa and Arya had driven in with their three older brothers, Jon, Robb, and Theon. The boys were all in the same grade, which confuses people, but Theon is adopted and Jon is their half-brother. The boys had always gotten along, even though they had always been very different from each other. Jon had these brooding good looks and dark hair that he was constantly pushing out of his eyes. If there was ever a fight at their old school, it was usually because Jon was the one to throw the first punch. Robb, comparatively, was the usually first person to pull Jon back from a fight. He was more measured in his interactions and had always been the level-headed one amongst them. He also had their mother’s looks, just like Sansa- auburn hair and bright blue eyes.

“Goddamn.” Theon said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He turned towards them and lifted an eyebrow. “The fuck are these dipshits staring at?”

And then there was Theon. He was lean, tall, and had a darker complexion than the rest of them. He was handsome, girl-crazy, and had a quick smile and an easy laugh. Sometimes he could be callous and weird, but Sansa always assumed it had something to do with his life before he was adopted into their family.

“Is it that obvious we’re new? I mean, we’re all dressed the same as them.” Arya said, frowning at their identical white oxford shirts. She crossed her arms over her chest. “This feels like the opening of a John Hughes movie.”

“How do you even know who John Hughes is?” Jon asked her, playfully ruffling her short brown hair. “You were born in the nineties, runt.” She grimaced and shoved him off.

Sansa sighed wistfully. “I, for one, love his movies. May he rest in peace,” She added quickly, holding her hands up in mock prayer. “Sixteen Candles is like, my life.”

Robb chuckled and looked at his watch. “We’ve got twenty minutes before class starts. We should go check in at the front desk. Do you guys want to-“ his question was cut off when he glanced up to find that they had started walking without him. He jogged to catch up with them and Sansa felt relieved that she could brave the school entrance beside her brothers. The smell of old linoleum and chalk dust hit her immediately when she entered. She may be miles from home, but at least this new school had an old, familiar scent. 

St. Mark’s Catholic School looked like an imposing and ancient cathedral. Back in Belvedere, Sansa had googled her new school and felt an unexpected jolt of excitement when she clicked through image after image of the stone gargoyles scowling from the pinnacles and spires, but today they were terrifying and towering over her. The place wasn’t exceedingly large and there weren’t that many students, but the building itself had to have been around since at the town was settled. There were tall narrow windows that ran like glowing slits from floor to ceiling, casting stripes of light across the hallway and blinding her every few steps

She trailed behind the rest of her siblings and combed her fingers through her hair uneasily before toying with the straps on her backpack. She’d been meticulous getting ready for school this morning, despite being so weirded out after the incident with the big man and the motorcycle. She hadn’t told anyone about him yet.

Before she’d left the house, Sansa had felt nearly stunning standing in front of her bathroom mirror. She’d always coveted her long naturally copper-colored hair and the way the layers framed her face. When she straightened her hair, it was long enough that it nearly reached her elbows. She’d worn very little makeup, deciding that it would be better to see how the other girls at school wore theirs before making any decisions. 

In her bathroom, with the door closed and her music loudly playing, she’d felt like a princess. Once the lighting changed, though, and the closer she got to school, the more that confidence dissipated, and the more she doubted herself. The butterflies in her stomach grew larger.

She forgot about the big man during her ride to school, and instead kept discovering new aspects of her outfit to fidget with as Robb drove and bickered with Jon in the front seat about The Walking Dead. She tugged her skirt down lower, wishing it would cover her knees. She kept holding out her hands to check her nails, which she’d painted pale pink the night before. She opened her compact twice to inspect her complexion. She reapplied her raspberry lip stain. She’d yanked up her knee socks enough times that Theon gently smacked her hand while he was sitting next to her in the backseat.

Sansa walked closely behind Robb, who was still navigating the way to the school office. At first she assumed it was just anxiety and that she was imagining the other kids gawking at her and her siblings, but then she noticed Jon’s pinched lips as he deliberately stared straight ahead. Arya was actively scowling back at them.

How to make friends, Sansa thought. The Stark way.

“It’s because I’m so pretty.” Robb cheerfully declared, acknowledging the stares.

“I thought I was the pretty one, actually.” Jon said.

“Judging by my super scientific study of those guys, it’s definitely Sansa.” Arya told him, her gaze focused ahead on a doorway where a blonde boy was leaning, flanked by two mean-looking guys. They were undeniably watching her. 

The blonde one, who was actually kind of cute, straightened up as she walked past, and eyed her obviously and appreciatively. He whistled low at her.

Jon’s hand twitched and he started to turn around and say something until Sansa grabbed his wrist. She leaned into him and whispered, “Not yet please. Maybe at the end of the day, if you can last that long without decking some douchebag?”

“Asshole’s pretty fucking ballsy if he thinks he can pull that shit in front of us.” Jon whispered back.

“I have no plans to die a virgin, you know.” Sansa murmured. “At some point you’re going to have to drop this whole protective-big-bro thing long enough for me to get laid.” 

“Never.” 

“And ew,” Robb added, grimacing. “Don’t talk like that.” 

“Yes,” Theon agreed, putting his hand on top of Arya’s head and speaking over her, “Both of you are to legally obligated to stay away from boys. Forever. There’s a handbook, right? Laws in place to ensure this?” He asked Jon over Arya’s head.

“Serious laws with serious consequences.” Jon answered gravely. “Especially for you, freshman.” He pointed in Arya’s face. She rolled her eyes dismissively, but Sansa could tell she was suppressing a smile. 

They had reached the school office and Robb was rifling through his messenger bag for the school forms their fretting mother had given to him earlier that morning. Their mother had been mildly distraught she couldn’t come with them for their first day of school, but it had been a unanimous decision amongst the teens that they did not want to be dropped off by their mother.

“Okay, here are our schedules.” Robb told them. “Sansa?” He held hers out and she snatched it before Theon could.

“Um, Beginning Drama?” Sansa asked, sounding brattier than she meant.

“Sorry.” Robb answered apologetically. “I know you wanted art, but the only electives that still had spots were choir and drama. At least you wanted choir, which you got.”

“I’m in drama too!?” Arya whined.

“Yes.” Robb answered, exasperated with both of them. “They don’t actually let freshmen girls into ‘advanced fencing’ and ‘advanced welding.’ Nice try, though.”

The first bell rang. The other students quickly dispersed until the Stark siblings were left alone, standing in a circle in the middle of an empty hallway.

“I feel like this moment needs a pep talk.” Robb said to Theon.

“You’re on your own, dude. I think my geometry class is in the other building so I should probably figure that out. You got this,” He said brightly, hitting Robb squarely on the back. He stuffed his schedule into the back pocket of his khakis and started to walk away.

“Dude, did you even bring a pen today?” Jon called after him, laughing.   

Theon turned to face them, walking backwards a few steps down the hall. He held up his palms and shrugged indifferently before he turned around again. He stopped at the end of the hallway and raised his fist into the air and inexplicably paused for a moment, holding that position. Arya’s eyes immediately darted to Sansa’s.

“Oh, no.” Sansa muttered, recognizing Theon’s actions.

No sooner had Arya’s brow furrowed in confusion did Sansa hear it, and then she didn’t actually have to explain how she knew what Theon was about to do because she recognized Bender’s gesture from the end of “The Breakfast Club.”

“DON’T YOU,” came in a sing-song bellow from Theon at the other end of the hallway. Robb looked at them all and grinned. 

“FORGET ABOUT ME,” echoed loudly through the corridor. A couple of classroom doors opened and teachers began to poke their heads out.

Sansa covered her face in embarrassment. When she peeked through her fingers, Robb was running to catch up with Theon and Arya was now nowhere to be found.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t” Robb and Theon sang loudly and badly to each other while walking off like they were leaving a pub.

Sansa stiffly turned back towards Jon and raised her index finger. “This is horrific. Don’t you think you could maybe-“

“DON’T YOU-,”

“Jon, no, stop-”

“-FORGET ABOUT ME”

The second bell rang.

They were all late for their first class on their first day of school.

Jon patted her reassuringly on her arm. “As you walk on by,” he crooned softly to her as he left for his class. She giggled despite herself.

“Will you call my name,” Sansa sang sweetly to the empty hallway, hitching her backpack higher and shuffling towards Spanish class.

==+==

“Did you hear what those kids called us?” Arya asked excitedly, and set her lunch tray down next to Sansa’s lunchbox. 

“You better keep that to yourself until school’s over,” Jon said through a mouthful of apple and winking at Sansa. “I made a promise I’d wait at least one day before administering some justice.”

“Administering justice, ha! That’s a really nice way of thinking about it.” Sansa told him. “I’m so proud of you and your vivid imagination. Good job, Jon. A plus effort.”

He bit into the apple again and flexed towards a disgusted Arya.

“They called us a wolf pack.” Arya told them.

“Who did?” Robb asked as he and Theon joined them, sliding onto the end of the picnic table bench.

Arya shrugged, “Some kids I overheard.”

They were sitting in the shade of an enormous oak tree on the school lawn, just beyond the courtyard where most of the other kids were sitting and eating. The day was pleasantly warm and had an edge of autumn to it. Leaves fluttered gently down every time a breeze came by.

When the boys got into a heated debate about which one of them was the alpha, Arya leaned into Sansa and muttered, “I overhead someone call us a ‘freaky wolf pack’ but whatever, I didn’t want to ruin their fun." 

Sansa whispered back, “I guess that’s still better than the alternative. People are staring at us like we’re sister-wives or something.” 

Arya mimed dry-heaving.

They passed their short lunch period laughing and making fun of Theon, mostly. Sansa wondered if she would have been brave enough to sit with strangers today if she had been alone, or if she would have hidden in the girl’s bathroom until lunch was over to avoid the stress of sitting and eating in a room full of strangers staring at you. Throughout her classes, she’d spoken to some other students, and consciously tried to be nice while smiling and politely answering prying questions about herself and her siblings.

She’d been exasperatedly trying to retrieve her thermos from Theon when she saw a blue blur whiz past her towards Jon. Her left arm shot out to the side and her hand closed around it before it could connect with Jon’s face. His jaw went slack and he stared at her, bewildered. She had caught it inches from his face. 

It was just a carton of milk. Someone had thrown an open carton of milk at him. When she grabbed it midair, she’d clutched it hard enough to splash milk all over her wrist.

Better your wrist than his face, she chided against her growing anger. Her skin started to feel hot and her pulse increased. 

Sansa set her jaw and stood up. She turned around, still holding the crushed milk carton in her hand, willing the culprit to come forward. She saw only dropped gazes and shuffling feet.  Mildly repulsed, she tossed the crumpled carton down on the grass and shook the milk off her arm. She sat back down and Jon handed her a napkin. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and recrossed her legs, sighing. 

“Whatever.” She told them. Theon laughed.

Theon smirked. “Ain’t nobody fucking with my-“

“-WOLF PACK.” Jon interrupted, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling it out towards the courtyard.

Sansa held her hands up in dismay. “Oh my god.” She started to gather her things and stuffing them into her backpack to go to her next class.

“I’m dying a virgin.” She said, walking away.

==+==

It was drama class, and it was her last one of the day. Sansa’s mind kept replaying her stupid brothers’ stunts and she felt her face get hot with embarrassment. She’d sat through math class periodically cringing.

The drama classroom was in a converted garage. There was a crude platform at the front of the room, and no desks, just folding chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. Sansa chose to sit near the front, knowing Arya would never sit next to her up there. The teacher’s desk was in the back of the room, behind the student’s chairs and facing the little stage.  There were no chalkboards or bookshelves, just overstuffed old trunks lining the room, full of worn out wigs and costumes that were overflowing onto the concrete floor.

Arya breezed in seconds before the second bell and scoffed at Sansa’s seat choice before walking all the way to the back of the room and sitting next to a visibly intimidated ginger boy. 

Their teacher stood up from his desk behind them and began to pass out stapled papers. Sansa stared straight ahead, holding onto the edges of her seat and kicking her feet lightly. He dropped it into her lap. She looked up at him, and found him smiling at her.

He had deep auburn hair that was greying at the temples and he wore pulled back in a topknot. He had freckles across the bridge of his nose and very tan skin. Sansa wished she could turn around and find Arya’s face to gauge her reaction to their hot teacher.

“My name,” he began in an elegant Argentian accent, “is Mr. H’ghar. If your American tongues can’t control ‘H’ghar’ then please, by all means- call me Jaqen.” 

He spoke like he was purring.

“In my class,” he continued, “You, however- are no one. Whoever you are outside this classroom does not concern me unless it can inform your new identity, your character. You are here to escape who you are, are you not? Or perhaps your first choice elective was full.” He said, smiling knowingly at them. 

Except for a few relieved exhales and giggles, the room was silent with rapt attention.

“My class is about trust in yourself first and about theater second. Acting is irrelevant to your lives if you do not take the time to build the foundation of self-confidence beneath it. The handouts are excerpts from Shakespeare’s Tempest, beginning with Prospero-“

The door opened loudly, cutting him off. The blonde boy from that morning sauntered in. He noticed Sansa and leered at her before choosing the seat directly behind her. Sansa shifted uncomfortably.

“Ah. Yes. Joffrey. Welcome!” Jaqen said brightly, though it was clearly sarcastic. 

“Thank you, Mr. H’ghar. Happy to be here.” Joffrey said from behind Sansa. He oozed such an obvious insincerity that she felt uncomfortable.

Jaqen sighed, his lips in a tight line, as he handed Joffrey another packet. He continued his introduction but the spell had been broken and the room had become tense and uneasy. Sansa had a hard time paying attention. She let her thoughts stray to the big man and the motorcycle again. Where is that accent of his from? She wondered. Who the hell says ‘lass’? 

Her thoughts snapped back to attention when a kid was shuffling up to the front from the back of the room. Jaqen had put names into a bowl and drawn at random for someone to perform the monologue. Sansa issued a silent prayer thankful that her name hadn’t been drawn. Instead, the ginger kid ambled up through the aisle and stood in the middle of the stage with “The Tempest” excerpt trembling slightly in his hands. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Mycah.” Jaqen leaned against the wall and smiled reassuringly at him. 

Mycah swallowed hard and looked at the papers in his hands. He cleared his throat.

Joffrey snorted behind Sansa.

Jaqen shot Joffrey a look of warning before nodding at Mycah.

“O-our” the pause between his next word made Sansa’s heart ache for Mycah.

“R, r-r-rev. R-revels n-now are ended.” Mycah suddenly looked up and inadvertently made eye contact with Sansa, who smiled slightly at him. He drew a deep breath and looked back down at his papers. 

Sansa glanced at Jaqen, who sympathetically watched Mycah, full of pity. I’d feel super bad about picking the kid with the stutter too, she thought to herself.

“Thuh. The. Thhh-these o-our-“ 

Joffrey started sniggering behind Sansa. Horrified, the hair on the back of her neck began to stand on end.

The intercom buzzed, interrupting Mycah’s reading. A visible sense of relief washed over him as Jaqen was called to the auditorium, and he left quickly, assuring them he’d be back in a few minutes.

Once the door closed behind him, Mycah silently shuffled back to his seat. The classroom was quiet for a moment. Sansa stared straight ahead, back straight with unease.

“Really though,” Joffrey spoke up, “Just curious, Mycah- are you trying to torture yourself or us?”

“Cut it out, Joff.” came from an athletic-looking dark haired guy in the back of the room. Joffrey brushed him off. “No, really.” He told them all. “I want to know.” He continued, “I want to know why this sad sack of shit thinks he can waste our time.” 

“We,” he gestured to everyone around him, “pay a lot of money for this education. But Mycah here- your dad works in the cafeteria and for some reason, that gives you the right to take up space in every class, struggling to spit words out.”

Sansa inhaled sharply. She turned around in her seat, facing the back of the room. She found Arya’s eyes and they shared a worried expression.

“I’m just s-s-s-saying” Joffrey ridiculed, laughing alone. “T-t-time is money, champ.”

Arya stood up so fast that her chair fell over backwards, clattering loudly. She stared at Joffrey and the tension in the room became unbearable.

“Oh,” Joffrey granted sarcastically, “and here comes the knight to the rescue.” He stood up. “Social justice in shining armor.”

Don’t, don’t, don’t, please don’t, she internally pleaded with Arya. Her mind responded with an image of Robb and Theon singing earlier.

Arya’s hands clenched to fists at her sides and her jaw was clenched, but she didn’t otherwise move.

“That’s what I thought.” Joffrey smiled with one corner of his mouth, and he sat back in his seat, turning around. He waved a hand dismissively. “Worst thing this ever school did was letting these white trash welfare cases matriculate.”

Sansa was on her feet in an instant, pivoting behind her as she drove her fist downwards in a powerful punch delivered directly to Joffrey’s face, landing squarely on his mouth. He fell sideways out of his seat, clutching his face and sprawling in the aisle.

Sansa looked at her hands in disbelief before she quickly thrust her fists behind her back, like it would hide the evidence. Arya’s mouth was open in shock. Everyone was staring at her.

“Oh, you fucking bitch,” Joffrey moaned from the floor. “You stupid fucking bitch.”

He lifted himself up and faced Sansa, his upper lip bleeding and swelling rapidly. She backed up a few steps.

“Do you know my last name?” He hissed. Sansa nervously searched the room, but Arya was already there, at her side and facing Joffrey with her.

“Crazy. Fucking. Bitches.” He spat. “Do you know the name ‘Baratheon’?”

Sansa and Arya looked at each other, alarmed.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He jeered. “Your dad works for my dad, Robert Baratheon. My dad is dean of the university where your dad just started working.”

The door opened and Jaqen reentered, his steps slowing as he took in the sight of a furious and bleeding Joffrey standing before Sansa and Arya and jabbing his finger at them.

“Call my father. Now.” Joffrey demanded Jaqen. “And my mother,”

“The headmistress,” He spat at Sansa. “Is going to expel the Stark girls.”

Sansa thought she was going to throw up. It was only the first day.

It was going to be an interesting year.

Chapter Text

Sansa was slumped in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the hallway outside the main office, avoiding Jon’s stare.

“Wait one day, she said.” Jon hissed at her, seething as he stood over her. “Please, Jon, wait one day before you get into any trouble.”

Theon was sitting next to her, and Robb, like Jon was standing over her with a grave expression on his face and his arms crossed. Arya was pacing in the middle of the hallway, and kept glancing towards the door. Their mother was on her way.

Sansa tugged at the hem of her skirt and shifted in her seat. She knew that if she tried to speak, she might cry. Her chin crumpled and she covered her face with her hands.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Theon mumbled, putting an arm around her. “You’re gonna be okay, slugger.”

Sansa looked at him. He shrugged, “I mean…even if you get expelled, word around town is you’ve got enough power in your punch that you could just drop out of high school all together and be a cage fighter.”

Sansa groaned exasperatedly and put her head on her knees, folding her arms above her. When she looked up again, all her siblings were watching the end of the hallway, where their mother, Catelyn Stark was walking briskly towards them. She was carrying Rickon on her hip and Bran was walking beside her, looking equally serious. Catelyn was an undeniably beautiful woman, but her currently tightly-drawn expression made her look fearsome. Her blue eyes narrowed at them and she lifted her chin as she approached.

When she reached them, she handed Rickon to Robb, who held the little boy close to his chest. Catelyn then turned to Sansa with an irritated heavy sigh.

“Sansa Lyanna Stark, I am absolutely appalled. I cannot even begin to express the depths of my disappointment. This is not how proper young ladies behave.”

Sansa grimaced. The door to the main office opened and her heart fell into the pit of her stomach.

“Mrs. Stark, Sansa, right this way please. We can begin the meeting now that you’re here.”

Sansa stood up and ran her fingers through her hair, tugging it over one shoulder. She followed her mother into Headmistress Lannister’s office.

Cersei Lannister stood when they walked into her office. She smiled politely and nodded her perfectly-coifed blonde head. She was wearing a crimson silk blouse and a high-waisted houndstooth pencil skirt, and she towered in her lethal-looking stiletto Louboutins.

Sansa glanced at what her mother was wearing in comparison, and noted with relief that it was a j. crew sweater over skinny black capris. Most of the time her mother was very well-dressed, but she from time to time she had worn gardening clothes out in public.

Joff was sitting in the sunny office and staring at Sansa with such venom that she felt sick. His lip was puffed up and cut, and the entire right side of his jaw was beginning to turn a faint purple that Sansa imagined would result in a splendorous show of bruise colors over the next week.

Catelyn and Sansa sat down in the chairs opposite Joff and Headmistress Lannister.

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Stark” the headmistress said brusquely.

“Please, call me Catelyn.”

“Catelyn, then.” Headmistress Lannister said with a clipped smile. “I trust you’ll understand why I didn’t involve our husbands. Westeros University may be their domain, but this is St. Mark’s- which is mine. My family has held positions of importance in the school for decades and the mascot, if you didn’t know- is still the mighty Lannister lions. So I trust you’ll understand why the success of this school and the safety of its students is of utmost importance to me.”

Catelyn nodded seriously, still holding her purse in her lap.

Headmistress Lannister turned her gaze towards Sansa for the first time since she entered. A very rehearsed and broad, yet insincere, smile bloomed on her face.

“Sansa, my dear, we at St. Mark’s have a very strict policy against students fighting, and we have a zero tolerance policy against violence. Your first offense is your last.”

Sansa’s heart sunk. She fought tears.

“However, your records were reviewed extensively by a council of benefactors and educators before you were accepted into St. Mark’s, so I know that this is not your typical behavior.”

Sansa felt a glimmer of hope and stared so hard at Headmistress Lannister that the rest of the room fell away.

The headmistress continued, “After reviewing options with the rest of the council, we have decided to overlook today’s offense because you are new. You won’t be expelled.”

Catelyn exhaled, looking over to Sansa as she reached for her daughter’s hand. Sansa gave a weak smile in return.

“What!?” Joff exclaimed incredulously, sitting upright. “Mom, she hit me.” He whined, pointing to his face.

The headmistress shot him a disapproving look. “Joffrey, please settle down. This is my decision.” She said tersely.

Joff scowled and slouched back in his chair, his eyes shooting daggers at Sansa.

“However, Sansa- there are some caveats to this impunity.” The headmistress added.

Sansa nodded eagerly.

“You will have mandatory participation in an extracurricular activity for the rest of your years at St. Mark’s. I think cheerleading is a great option for a young woman of your physique.” She pushed a flyer towards Sansa. “Here is the tryout schedule.”

“Additionally, you will serve 60 hours of community service. Your sister will serve twenty.” She pushed another sheet of paper. “Here are your St. Mark’s-endorsed volunteer options.”

Sansa took the second sheet.

“Lastly, you will meet with our school psychiatrist once a week, until you graduate. He will keep us apprised of your improvement and attitude, and he will let us know the moment should you pose a threat to other students, and you will be expelled immediately.”

Sansa’s face twisted. As if the other kids didn’t think I was weird enough.

“Sansa,” the headmistress gently chided, “Don’t you want to be a successful St. Mark’s student?”

She nodded glumly.

The headmistress smiled her insincere smile again. “Good. Then you’ll understand that we will need to evaluate your violent tendencies and observe you closely for an indefinite amount of time.”

Sansa nodded again.

“Joffrey, Sansa, please go wait outside. I’d like to speak to Mrs. Stark privately for a moment.”

Joff jumped out of his chair and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that the glass rattled.

And I’m the one with violent tendencies, Sansa bitterly thought as she rubbed her mother’s arm and rose to leave.

Sansa stared at her knees coming out of the cloudy bathwater. Her legs were too long for the tub. After she’d torn through boxes in her bedroom to find a Lush bath bomb she knew she’d packed, she had considered asking to use her parent’s tub in the master bathroom, but decided it would be better to lay low and stay out of their way for awhile.

She was in the bathroom she shared with Arya, soaking in the too-small tub. She kept running through her day in disbelief.

She was also in the bath as a means to avoid her siblings. They’d been particularly outraged when she explained the terms of her punishment on the ride home and were enthusiastically discussing what Joff deserved. It was a little too much for Sansa.

She sank lower into the water until her shoulders were submerged, and lifted her feet to put her them on the cold tile wall. She could probably stay in there another three hours, or until the water was uncomfortably tepid. She was known in their family to take cover alone in her bathroom for long stretches of time, and mostly she’d be grooming or bathing, but occasionally she’d hole up in her bathroom under a fit of insecurity and self-loathing and scrutinize herself pore to pore.

She splashed water over her stomach and heard a loud knock at the door.

“Occupado,” Sansa called out, exasperated.

“Sansa,” her little sister whined from the other side of the door. “I have to pee.”

“Arya, there’s like, four other toilets in this house.” Sansa called back.

“But this one is the closest!” she pleaded.

“Too bad.” Sansa answered. “Waddle elsewhere to wee, lil sis, ‘cause I’m not surrendering this bathroom yet.”

She heard Arya jiggle the locked doorknob before groaning and stamping her foot in frustration. She stalked away, her footsteps retreating down the hall.

Sansa sighed and settled back into the water, relishing the feel of her hair gently floating around her face. Her mind wandered to mermaids.

A moment later the doorknob was tested again. Sansa sat up, the water rushing off her.

“Arya?” She called out.

There was no answer. The doorknob jiggled again, harder. She heard something slide into the door. Sansa reached for the bottom shower curtain to cover herself.

“Someone’s in here.” Sansa said, tensing up.

Something clicked and the doorknob gave, and the door opened.

Arya rushed in, shutting it quickly behind her. She dropped her jeans so fast that her metal belt buckle loudly clanked against the tiles. She sat down on the toilet with her jeans around her ankles.

“Arya, gross!” Sansa exclaimed. Arya shrugged, and Sansa yanked the shower curtain closed in a huff.

“Did you just pick the lock?” Sansa asked from behind the shower curtain. It was vinyl and smelled like a plastic inflatable pool toy. She and Arya had actually managed to agree when they picked this out at Urban Outfitters. It was opaque blue with clear portholes like a ship’s that were at eye level if you were standing in the shower.

“Yeah.” Arya admitted.

“When did you learn how to do that?” Sansa asked, looking at her toes poking above the water. She wriggled them.

“I learned back home, actually.”

“Seriously?” Sansa asked.

“Yeah. Theon showed me how when he caught me climbing the trellis to sneak back in one night.”

“What!?”

“Yeah…” Arya trailed off, uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. “He thought breaking in was safer for me than climbing up a house on a cliff. Even though Bran did it all the time, but whatever.”

“I can’t break in the front door here because of the deadbolt.” Arya continued matter-of-factly. “But I can climb up the gutter to our window.”

“Back the fuck up, Arya, why were you sneaking out in Belvedere? Where were you going? We didn’t live near anything and you can’t drive.”

There was silence on either side of the curtain.

“Is it a boy?” Sansa pressed. “Are you on the drugs?” She mocked.

Arya laughed. “I just like being outside.” She finished reluctantly.

“Hm.” Sansa murmured. “Are you, like, done peeing yet?”

Arya stood up and Sansa heard the rustle of her jeans going back on. She zipped.

“I didn’t even have to go, I just wanted to see if you were okay after everything today.”

Sansa covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Get outtttt.” She whined. Their moment was over. Arya began terrorizing Sansa by grabbing toiletries off the bathroom counter to chuck over the shower curtain where they either landed on Sansa, or into the water with a loud plop.

“Hey!” Sansa yelled. “That’s my Marc Jacobs perfume, you brat!” She caught the bottle with a splash.

Arya cackled and left, closing the door behind her.

Sansa gingerly stepped into her father’s office, her hands clasped demurely at her stomach.

“Dad, you wanted to talk to me?”

Ned Stark looked up from his laptop, the computer’s glow making his glasses flash. He cleared his throat, and removed his glasses. He gestured towards the seat in front of his desk.

“Geez, it’s like I’m getting called into the principal’s office all over again.” Sansa joked nervously.

Her father’s study was on the first floor of their new home. There were opened boxes shoved into the corner and stacks of old and dusty law books all around the room. There was a window seat that Sansa had envied so much, that she had unsuccessfully vied for this room to be her bedroom. She once again wistfully imagined herself there on a cold day, rereading The Hunger Games with her head leaning on the cool windowpane.

Her father was a very hardworking man and had often spent industrious nights working late in his office back in Belvedere, so this time around Catelyn decided Ned needed at at-home office.

He regarded Sansa with stern disapproval as she sat in front of him, but there was nothing but warmth in his eyes. His crow’s feet had just begun to etch themselves around his eyes in the past few years, but the worry lines in his brow had always been there. He always looked stern and serious, even when he was smiling. Sansa assumed that was the price he paid for being a successful city attorney; that he was always worrying about something on behalf of the good of the people.

He cleared his throat again, rubbed his rough palm over his bristly beard, and Sansa could see how carefully he was choosing his words.

“Robert Baratheon is a very important and dear old friend to me, Sansa.” He spoke.

She shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I know, Dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who Joff was.”

“That doesn’t make it acceptable. Young ladies can’t just go around hitting people because someone said something offensive.”

“But, dad, he was making fun of a kid with a stutter. Like, he was being cruel. Oh, and that morning he had whistled at me and been so gross about staring that I had to keep Jon from hitting him. Joff is awful.”

Her father paused. “Then you tell Robb, and he’ll talk to me about it. And I’ll talk to Robert. You don’t take the matter into your own hands.”

Sansa was incredulous. “Do you hear yourself right now, Dad? Are you actually telling me I need to I rely on the boys to put Joff in his place?”

“Sansa.” Ned cautioned.

“No, you know what, it’s okay, ground me or whatever you want to do. I know what I did today was wrong and I know why, but if you’re coming at it from a position of ‘don’t hit my friend’s son because you’re a girl’ then we’re going to have a problem.” Sansa rushed, feeling her face get heated.

Her father pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “You sound like Arya.” He told her.

“Well, maybe she has a point. You treat us differently because we’re girls. You coddle us but treat the boys like leaders.”

“And despite my best efforts, you two are still the only hell I ever raised.” He smiled warmly at her. Sansa couldn’t help but smile a little back. There was a pause and Sansa looked at her nails, before drumming her fingers against her legs.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” She sighed. “Today was really awful and I’m sort of high-strung right now.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I know you’ve been through a lot today and I’m sure your mother has already given you an earful. I just want you to talk to me or Robb before you ever feel like you need to hit someone. It’s so unlike you.”

Sansa fell silent, fidgeting with the loose threads of the chair’s upholstery fibers. She didn’t know how to respond to her father’s wish. Hitting Joff hadn’t been premeditated. It had been instinct, and it had been instant.

Chapter Text

They drove in silence. Their mother was taking Arya and Sansa to the library for their first day of community service. For the next three months, Sansa would sacrifice five hours of her Saturday at the university library, along with Arya, who only had to do it for one month.

Arya and Sansa chose the bookkeeping internship at the city’s largest public library rather than any of the other options on the St. Mark’s list of volunteer opportunities because it seemed like the only choice where little to no mental effort was involved. Sansa didn’t understand how volunteering for “project cost analysis data” at some rich St. Mark’s dad’s accounting firm was considered “community service” but at least volunteering at the library didn’t sound like more school.

When they arrived, Arya bolted out of the car and waited on the curb. Traitor, Sansa thought, narrowing her eyes at her sister.

Her mother glanced at Arya and shook her head, shifting in her seat to look at Sansa.

“I’ll be back to pick you both up at seven, when the library closes.” Catelyn cautioned. “You will be waiting right here, do you understand?”

Sansa nodded mutely.

“And even if they give you a break during your hours, you two are not to leave the library whatsoever. Is that clear?”

Sansa nodded again, stifling the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, mom.”

“Okay. Be good. I love you.” Her mother leaned over the seat and kissed Sansa’s temple as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Love you too, mom.”

Sansa tsk’ed when she read the library’s name as she walked in beneath it- the “Lannister Library,” brought to you of by the generous donation of Tywin Lannister. Whoever that was.

The building itself was a new structure. Everything was chrome and modern, which was disconcerting for Sansa. The carpet was even brand new and faintly smelled like plastic. Inside, they met the librarian, a very sweet young woman who didn’t bother introducing herself, but had a nametag reading “Kyrell”. Kyrell brought them to a room of book returns and showed them the rickety rolling metal carts to use when taking the books back out to reshelf them. After watching Arya and Sansa try it on their own for a moment, Kyrell returned to the front desk area and her copy of the month’s Food & Wine magazine.

“Revised Codes of Ohio,” Arya read aloud from a spine of a dark green hardcover book. “1947. Annotated.’ O-kay…” she frowned and flippantly tossed it onto the cart.

“The Rake’s Proposal.” Sansa replied, holding up another book. “Arya look, he’s like, almost cupping her boob on the cover.”

They giggled.

“You’d think people would be embarrassed to get this sort of stuff from the public library.” Sansa muttered, picking up another romance novel. She looked up at Arya. “Like, there’s a human interaction when you check this out.” She held up the novel, which had two lovers embracing in front of a snowy cabin. She looked at it again. “Why are they outside? Why? Why is he shirtless in the snow? Why not bang inside, by the fire?”

“Whatever,” Arya shot back, “You read all that hero-girl young adult stuff which is essentially the same thing. Except, probably no penetration. That’s the only thing that makes it different!”

“And the book covers.” Sansa replied, holding up another book with two wind-swept lovers embracing in an open prairie. “I love me some teen fantasy fiction, but at least the covers are more discreet than this.”

Arya nodded, acquiescing. The door suddenly opened up, and a man with what Sansa recognized as achondroplasia dwarfism walked into the room. He had shaggy and unkempt blonde hair, but he was wearing perfectly a tailored grey suit and paired with a red tie and darker red shirt. He strode up to the sorting table they were working at, and started moving books around, humming happily to himself. He accidentally knocked over a stack Arya had been organizing.

“Hey!” Arya exclaimed. “Watch it.” She muttered sullenly.

He froze, his hands hovering above the books and looked up at them with one eyebrow raised as if he was surprised.

“Apologies.” He addressed Arya. “I’m unaccustomed to the interns speaking, much less caring about the accuracy of their duties.” He finished dryly, gesturing towards the books the two girls had meticulously organized by genre. He was not much taller than the table, and maybe was as tall as Sansa’s waist.

“Perhaps you can help me. I returned a book by accident. The History of Sexuality by Foucault? Volume One? Have you seen it here?”

Sansa snorted. He noticed and nodded. “Hm, yes, hilarious.”

She found it in the stack of philosophy novels she’d been organizing, and handed it to him. He gave a half-frown, bemused. “Thank you.”

Sansa didn’t say anything back, and he raised both his eyebrows. “I’ve been rude. Second round of apologies. I’m Tyrion Lannister, Head of the Philosophy department. Are you students here or are you new slaves my dear sister has sent from St. Mark’s?”

“Sister?” Sansa asked in disbelief. “Like, Headmistress Lannister?”

“Like, yes.” Tyrion answered teasingly. “Do you know her?”

“Know her!? She just punched Cersei’s son out!” Arya said excitedly.

Sansa warily watched Tyrion’s expression as he learned this.

“My nephew?” Tyrion asked, smiling. He turned to Sansa. “Joff?” She nodded, cringing.

“Well done.” He offered his hand to her for a handshake. Sansa felt a grin creep over her face as she took his hand.

“Don’t tell me- did he do something positively odious to provoke your pretty fist?” Tyrion asked.

“Yeah,” Sansa answered shyly before meeting his gaze. One of his eyes was blue and one was brown.

“You have heterochromia.” Sansa blurted out to Tyrion.

“Sansa!” Arya exclaimed, before lowering her voice, a sly smile on her face. “That’s rude. They don’t like being called that.” She stage-whispered sarcastically.

Sansa wasn’t sure he’d get the joke and smiled nervously at him, but Tyrion threw his head back and burst into genuine laughter.

“I am eager to learn the names of the young women who have thoroughly charmed me. You are?” He pointed to Sansa.

“Sansa Stark.” She promptly told him.

“Sansa Stark!” Tyrion repeated cheerfully, surprised. He turned to Arya, “So that must make you…?”

“Arya.” She finished for him.

“My, my, both the Stark girls. I am honored.” He smiled at them and reached for his briefcase.

“I need to be going. I have office hours soon! The interminable damnation of every professor. Ladies, it was lovely to meet you.” He shook Arya’s hand firmly.  

“And you, dear child, will have to tell me the story of your encounter with Joffrey someday.” He kissed her hand. “Til the next time, then, my lady.” He gave a silly bow and Sansa giggled.

“My lord,” Sansa responded, laughing.

She and Arya chatted idly for a time until they both became absorbed in their thoughts while they worked and fell silent. Sansa let her mind wander while she sorted through more books. A nasty thought kept bubbling up to her consciousness; one about how she’d thought Joff was sort of cute when she first saw him. In another world, another lifetime, and with a million different splintering decisions, she could have actually ended up engaged to him.

Sansa shuddered involuntarily.

==+==

The library closed early, so Sansa and Arya were stuck waiting under the orange streetlight by the curb. Arya shuffled her feet idly, scuffing her sneakers against the concrete, and Sansa leaned against the stop sign, perusing Twitter.

Arya sighed. “I need to find a bathroom. I have to pee.”

Sansa shook her head no. “Mom’ll be here any minute. She said that we needed to be right here when she comes to pick us up.”

Arya looked at her watch. “It’s a quarter ‘til. Worst comes to worse, I’ll find a bush.”

“Ew, Arya no, this is a college campus, not the wilderness. You could get arrested for public indecency.”

“Only if those big ‘ol glorified mall cops are fast enough to catch me!” Arya called out as she walked away, hands stuffed in the pockets of her black hoodie.

Sansa shook her head; returning her attention to her phone, which was now open to her Tumblr. She collected photos of castles, English countryside, and steaming ceramic cups of tea. She had an eye for delicate lacy things, like macro shots of lace and antique porcelain. Her Pinterest boards were the same way. She didn’t know why, but she’d always loved old things.

She felt a tingling at the back of her head like someone was behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at the dark sidewalk but couldn’t see anyone. She gazed around, and looked across the deserted parking lot of the library towards the grassy grounds of the quad. Just beyond it she could see the lit-up cafeteria and dining hall, looming tall over the squat brick buildings around it. There was an enormous iron statue in front of the building proudly depicting the school’s mascot, the Westeros Stag. If Bran were here, he’d try to climb that, Sansa thought. A breeze came and she shivered, rubbing her arms.

Something rustled behind her. She felt the tingling on her scalp again. Sansa stood still and listened hard without moving. Another deliberate rustle came, like a single step over dead leaves. She held her iphone up to her face and pretended to take a selfie, inspecting her makeup briefly before she turned her phone slightly from side to side past her shoulder to see who was creeping up behind her. She saw no one.

She heard another step.

She spun around, her hands forming fists, and jumped when she actually saw someone there.

A young guy was standing in a few feet front of her and staring. He smiled slyly, tilting his head back. He was wearing black jeans tucked into combat boots and a rugby shirt. His hair was cut oddly, in some old-fashioned style that looked like it was feathered.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said, palms open.

“I’m not scared.” Sansa said with a little too much force.

“You should be. Pretty little thing shouldn’t be out here alone.” He took a couple slow steps closer to her.

“Uhhh…” Sansa took a step back and looked around her, feeling her heart start beating faster. “That is super creepy.”

He chuckled and said, “I bet you will taste so sweet.”

“I bet you will never know.” Sansa assured him, backing away as he came closer. “And my mom will be here any minute. And my sister.”

Her back hit the pole of the streetlight and she stopped. “And these skinny jeans took me ten full minutes to wriggle into and are so tight that they could be considered a rape-prevention device, just so you know.”

He laughed, still slowly advancing. He smirked. “I’m not interested in sex, sugar.”

“I didn’t say sex, I said rape, but okay.” Sansa looked around the parking lot, mentally willing her mother’s car to magically appear around the corner. At least she was wearing converse sneakers. If she had to run, she could. She really didn’t want to though, because she knew that as soon as she left this area, her mother would conveniently choose to arrive and be irate when she didn’t find Sansa where she was supposed to be.

Where is Arya? Sansa wondered, hoping she’d stay away long enough for this creep to leave.

“I think you should leave her alone.” A voice rasped from behind her, in a familiar lilting accent.

Sansa spun around and saw the massive man from the motorcycle incident. He was just as huge as she remembered, tall and built, and he was stuffing an enormous antique book with gilded page edges into his leather messenger bag as he briskly walked towards them.

Sansa turned back around to face the creep, who rolled his eyes and held out his palms. “Hey man, I don’t want any trouble.” He leered at Sansa. “I just want some dinner.” The creep’s face changed and Sansa recoiled in horror. His face contorted grotesquely, his eyes flashed an animalistic yellow, and he bared his sharp teeth. Fangs? She thought in disbelief. He lunged towards Sansa.

The big man yanked Sansa behind him and kept his arm across her, blocking her off from the creep.

“I said leave.” He rumbled quietly, raising his fingers slightly and muttering something that caused the creep to hiss before backing away and turning to run through the streetlight. Sansa watched him disappear in the darkness and reappear in orange patches of streetlight as he sprinted.

What. The. Fuck. Sansa wondered wildly. What the fuck.

The fluorescent flickering streetlight buzzed loudly as moths swarmed around it. The harsh light cast sharp shadows across the big man’s burn scars, and when he brushed his hair out of his face, Sansa saw his jacket sleeve raise just enough to reveal partially obscured tattoos. “Are you just one of those dozy cows who always gets into trouble?” he angrily huffed, breaking her stare.

“…Did you just call me fat?” Sansa snapped.

“Look here girl, don’t go out after dark in this town if you don’t have to. Do you hear me?” he demanded.

Sansa rolled her eyes, but it just pissed him off. He grabbed the upper part of her arm. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Sansa shook him off and shoved him so hard he stumbled back a step. His mouth opened in surprise.

“Funny, that’s almost what that guy told me, too.” Sansa flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I can take care of myself.” She said boldly. He paused, staring at her.

“My name is Sandor Clegane,” he said in a low voice. “Who are you?”

“Sansa.” She told him grudgingly, brushing him off and looking past him. Where the hell is Arya?

“What the hell kind of name is ‘Sansa’?” he asked spitefully.

“Okay, Sandor.” Sansa shot back pointedly, holding her palm up.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what was wrong with his face?” Sandor demanded, eyes flashing.

“No.” Sansa petulantly spat . “I’m not. Haven’t you ever seen the ‘Faces of Meth’ campaign?” She jabbed her finger into the middle of his broad chest. “That shit. Messes. People. Up.”

He snorted, shifting the bag’s weight on his shoulder. “Whatever you say, lass.”

“WHO SAYS LASS?” Sansa loudly asked. “Who says that. What’s that accent. What are you.” She stated flatly.

The corner of his mouth curled. He thumped the center of his chest. “A proud Irishman, that’s what.”

Suddenly, Sandor’s smile was gone and he quickly looked past Sansa. His expression hardened and a look of resolute fury flashed through his eyes. He inhaled sharply.

Sansa turned around to see what he was looking at so intensely, but it was just Arya. She was ambling towards them while shoveling something out of a styrofoam container into her mouth with a plastic fork.

She walked up to Sansa, staring back at Sandor. She shoved another forkful of food into her mouth. Sandor’s eyes narrowed at her. Sansa glanced back and forth between their intense expressions and felt an unexpected surge of unpleasant jealousy. She snapped her fingers in Sandor’s face.

“Hello, rudeness?” He looked down at her angrily. “She’s fourteen. Settle down, Sandor.” She said brattily. His nostrils flared and he looked back at Arya.

“Relax, dude.” Arya said through a mouthful of food. “It’s just vindaloo. Broaden your world view, man.” She gestured with her fork. There was something very tense between them that Sansa didn’t understand.

Their mother pulled into the parking lot and Sansa panicked, knowing Arya would have to answer for the food she’d left to get when they weren’t supposed to. Sansa slapped the container out of her sister’s hands and it splattered on the sidewalk.

“Hey! You bitch, I wasn’t done with that.”

“Shut up.” Sansa hissed. Their mother pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. Sansa groaned as the car door opened and her mother stepped out. So there’s going to be a meeting. She thought angrily, glancing at Sandor.

“Why are you still here?” Arya asked Sandor. “Also, who the hell are you?”

Catelyn pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Hi, girls.” She delicately stepped over the spilled vindaloo.

“Hello, I’m Sandor Clegane.” He stuck out his hand to Catelyn. “I work at the library. We closed early tonight, so I waited out here with them until you came.” Catelyn shook his hand respectfully despite her visible swooning at Sandor’s accent and size. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. Gross, Sansa thought.

“Thank you so much.” Their mother cooed. “I’m Catelyn Stark, their mother.”

“Mother?” Sandor smiled amiably. “I assumed you were an older sister.”

Catelyn scoffed and waved him off, knowing he was making it up. She was blushing anyway, though. Arya silently gagged and Sansa felt vaguely infuriated.

“Well, Ms. Stark, you have a lovely evening.” He said, opening the car door for her. He shut it again and opened the backseat door for Arya to inelegantly clamber into the back seat.

“Sansa.” He murmured low, nodding his goodbye to her as he walked her around to the passenger seat.

“Do you actually work at the library?” Sansa quietly hissed.

“No.” he whispered back. “I don’t even go here.”

“Were you hitting on my mom?” She whispered angrily.

“Your mom is hot.” He whispered with a shrug. He opened the car door for Sansa and bent down.

“Have a good night, ladies.” He waved. “Buckle up!"

Sansa and Arya flipped him off simultaneously.

Chapter Text

[breaks fourth wall]

Alright, y'all, here's the deal: I haven't updated this fic since Aug 2014. The reason for that is I have since written, and published, a book based on this very fic. My hope in posting this update is that if you enjoyed reading what sparked my first novel, you'll also enjoy the final result. It's called The Alchemy of Being Fourteen and it is about two teenage sisters named Winter and Arden Allister.

After the book was released, I actually had an essay published in Forces of Geek about how much this a03 community meant to me, and still does, during the writing process. The epub is widely available online (.99 on Amazon, I think) and "pay what you want" on Smashwords, but I've also uploaded it to my Google Drive in case any of y'all want me to send it to you. It is the least I can do. 

I gotta shelve this fic for the time being because it diverged into my own story, but thank you so much for everyone who left kind comments and kudos and words of encouragement — it meant a great deal to me. 

<3