Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.