Reality (or Fantasies)
Prologue (or the little thing ran into his foot...a couple of times...)
November 19th 1995 (or the beginning)
Sansa
It was a dreary day in Grafton, WI, and the eldest Stark girl found herself trapped in her room. It had become her room when her stepbrother Jon moved out for college over the fall, meaning there were three rooms for four Stark children. Rob, the second eldest son, wanted the room, but his wish was denied when it became clear that if the two Stark girls were left to share a room much longer there would be great unpleasantness. As they faced impeding doom as the girls grew older, her mother and father decided it would be best to split apart their daughters, ages fourteen and thirteen, to prevent at least some of the quarrels that had become the norm. Sansa now sat alone in her room but her sister still impacted her day as dirty, angry, language flowed from Arya's room.
Arya has no idea what a 'indoor voice' is.
She was shouting at her friend as she tried to kill him in some gory video game...or at least that is what she assumed since she had never watched her sister and Gendry play Street Combat or Mortal Fighter, or whatever the names were. Gendry had been over for about twenty minutes now and Sansa had already heard her sister yell the S-word four times, the F-word twice, and the A-word once. "C'mon you ice asshole, stay the fuck still!" echoed Arya's voice down the hallway and Sansa rolled her eyes.
Now I've heard the A-word twice.
The eldest Stark daughter rose from her chair and trudged to her bedroom door as she shook her head at her vulgar sister and hoped that their mother would be upstairs soon to quell Arya's profane, and grammatically incorrect, tirades. That Baratheon boy, was cute (but not as cute as her Joffery) and usually so polite and quiet most of the time, so it bewildered Sansa why he was such a bad influence on Arya.
Whenever he comes over she's just the worst.
With the door closed Sansa returned to her reading. On the desk in front of her was a beat up paperback book that had been in her possession since she was six. The cover had become tattered with time, the pages were faded and turning a sickly yellow, but Sansa liked to think those were all marks of a well-loved book. In truth, Sansa should have closed the door earlier because she knew that if someone were to walk in on her reading this, it would be embarrassing. She would admit that she was too old for the silly fairy tale...but it was her favorite.
At noon she found dinner ready, and while at table, was entertained with an excellent concert of music, though without seeing anybody. But at night, as she was going to sit down to supper, she heard the noise Beast made, and could not help being sadly terrified. "Beauty," said the monster, "will you give me leave to see you sup?"
"That is as you please," answered Beauty trembling.
"No," replied the Beast, "you alone are mistress here; you need only bid me gone, if my presence is troublesome, and I will immediately withdraw. But, tell me, do not you think me very ugly?"
"That is true," said Beauty, "for I cannot tell a lie, but I believe you are very good natured."
"So I am," said the monster, "but then, besides my ugliness, I have no sense; I know very well, that I am a poor, silly, stupid creature."
"'Tis no sign of folly to think so," replied Beauty, "for never did fool know this, or had so humble a conceit of his own understanding."
"Eat then, Beauty," said the monster, "and endeavor to amuse yourself in your palace, for everything here is yours, and I should be very uneasy, if you were not happy."
As immersed as she was in the story, Sansa barely noticed the soft tapping at her closed door or the noise of it opening behind her. "Sansa?" she heard her mother say, which caused Sansa to snap her book shut.
"Hi!" she merrily replied to her mother's unexpected entrance.
"Why was your door closed?"
"Oh, just Arya," Sansa sighed as she waved her hand towards her sister's room.
"I know," her mother agreed as she looked down and shook her head, "I asked her to keep it down."
"Thanks," Sansa quickly nodded, then wished that her mother would leave before she noticed what she was doing.
"Okay, you can keep the door open now," he mother suggested, "Arya will be more quiet."
"Sure," Sansa nodded as she knew that agreeing would get her mother out of the room faster. With a stoney smile, her mother turned out of the room, and left Sansa alone again with her story. She couldn't help but be annoyed by her mother's insistence that she keep the door open. This rule had been put in place for her when Joffery began to come over and they would hang out in her room, and Sansa saw no reason for it. Joffery might be...rough around the edges at times...but he was so darling. His hair so golden blond, curly in the back...his eyes bright glimmering green...she got lost in them sometimes when she was lucky enough to sit next to him in English. It didn't matter that sometimes he called Sansa names like 'bitch,' or 'twat' or 'oozing cum dumpster,' she knew he really loved her and one day they would be together, in a house filled with blushing blonde children, away from her wretched, uncouth sister.
Until then she had her stories, which would have to suffice through the weekend. On Monday she would be back at school and she her beloved, who was unjustly grounded over the weekend.
He didn't kick that puppy...the little thing ran into his foot...a couple of times...
Sansa looked over her shoulder as she still had some shame in her pleasure. When she saw no one was watching, she dove back into her perfect world.
Tyrion
The white porcelain was cool against his skin as he balanced on the toilet seat. He wasn't under the influence of anything at that moment, so it wasn't pills or booze causing his lack of balance. Most likely it was related to the fact he sat backwards, facing the tank of the toilet, that he was having a problem finding the sweet spot. He discovered sitting like this when he was thirteen and was tired of holding a dirty magazine when he masturbated. By turning around on the toilet, he would have a place to put down the Penthouse while he played with his pickle, and a 'backboard' of sorts to properly block his baby batter. It was probably his greatest discovery until he actually found out what a vagina felt like.
It feels supremely better than this...
The youngest son of accomplished attorney Tywin Lannister found himself in his father's spare bathroom this day, his left hand turning pages while his right contained a gob of lotion as he tried to accomplish his goal. The day had been strenuous and the tension had built on him, which caused him to take refuge away from his 'family.' This would be his last respite before dinner. Knowing his father, he probably would not allow wine at the table based on what happened at the last family dinner.
Make one drunken joke about how you fucked a girl who quacked like a duck when she came and suddenly no more wine. I would never come here again if I didn't depend on him for money, food, and shelter.
His right hand began to find its rhythm when he happened on a page with a voluptuous redhead. Her short hair was in two petite pigtails, and though she had been dressed as a schoolgirl two pages ago, she was now completely naked behind over what appeared to be the principal's desk. Her ass was popped in the air, her back arched perfectly, and her flawless skin was wonderfully and fraudulently airbrushed to match her clearly artificially enhanced breasts. She looked back into the camera with cool blue eyes, as if to let Tyrion know everything would be okay.
And she would so fucking tight I'd have to scream.
Outside the door there was some rustling, and mumbling from two different voices, followed by a slam on the door. "Tyrion! Get the fuck out!" his sister bellowed.
"One sec," Tyrion lied, knowing it would be at least another minute, then at least forty-five seconds for clean up and redressing.
"I know you're just jerking off! Now get the fuck out!" Cersei screamed, evidently not afraid to yell the words, 'jerking off' in her father's house.
"Use the other bathroom!" Tyrion yelled to the door as his mind lost focus on "Ruby" and her supple ass.
"My pills are in there!" she squealed back.
Oh, yes, 'her pills' that she gets from her 'doctor' who isn't at all giving her this powerful anxiety medication because she is paying him under the table...in multiple ways I would guess.
"One more second!" Tyrion howled at his sister then doubled his efforts. He flipped through a couple of pages before he confirmed that Ruby was the best he was going to get. Cersei continued to pound away, much like her brother, and his legs began to twitch and his muscles tightened, and his body violently bucked against the toilet. "Fuck," Tyrion hissed as he came, and his head snapped back as he spasmed.
"Tyrion!" his sister cried again. She stopped pounding at the door and instead rattled the doorknob back and forth as she wrestled to get in.
"One second for fuck's sake!" Tyrion bellowed as his legs trembled for a moment as he stood. Once his moment of pleasure passed, he reached for a wad of toilet paper to clean up his mess. His backboard served its purpose, and after a quick once over, it was clean...enough. He reached down and pulled up his underwear and pants.
"Come on!" he heard Cersei yell again as the door handle continued to rattle.
"Fine!" Tyrion answered as he opened the door. "Happy!" he yelled as soon as he saw his sister.
"No!" she screamed back and walked past him into the bathroom and grabbed for the green satchel of bathroom supplies she brought for the weekend. She tore apart the bag, threw some lipstick and a brush to side, then pulled out a white bottle, twisted it open, and popped two pills into her mouth and moaned as they slipped down her throat.
"Enjoy your medication?" Tyrion asked as he gawked at his sister's display of growing drug dependence.
She looked up into the mirror and glared at his reflection, the same glare she had given him for his entire life. Her eyes moved off him, to a different part of the bathroom, and she laughed.
"What's so funny?" Tyrion asked.
"Enjoy your defecation?" she asked as she stepped towards the toilet and lifted up the magazine.
"Fuck," he growled, then took a step back into the bathroom and attempted to rip the magazine out her hand, which she promptly held over his head. They were no longer children, so she could no longer tease him by placing things above his head, out of his reach, but he still had to put effort into reaching the magazine.
"She's cute," Cersei sneered as Tyrion grabbed his reading materials, spun around, and walked out of the bathroom and tried to ignore his sister's cackling as he left.
He walked down the hallway toward his bedroom to drop off the magazine in his room before heading down for dinner. The hall was lined with pictures of the Lannister children at different ages; Cersei as a baby, then at four, and at eight, and similar pictures of her twin brother Jamie. Before his room he reached a family portrait, with a mother and a father, a son and a daughter, but not Tyrion. It was the perfect family that he ruined just by existing. There was no picture of Tyrion in this hallway, his father never thought it necessary to add one, and of course his mother never demanded it. He took a deep sigh and passed by the portrait of the family he destroyed as the glossy paper of the magazine chilled his hand, and sulked back to his room.
November 1st 2003 (or sometime later, the morning after 'that Halloween')
The Barista
The stem wasn't building up to Sansa's liking so that she could create the sauna-like environment she craved before a double shift at Starbucks. She wasn't supposed to be stressed like this. When she first thought of last night's 'Halloween party,' she planned on having a small gathering of friends and family at a low key event, without any drama.
Of course, I had to invite my emotionally unstable sister and her surprisingly equally dramatic boyfriend.
The eldest Stark girl, and in some ways only Stark girl, could not find comfort in her usual morning routine, and the water could not tamp her nerves from the previous night. What was supposed to be a relaxing night to fully christen her new apartment became something very different. Arya wasn't fully to blame, but at the same time Sansa wasn't happy with her sister, and the knowledge that she was the cause of the stress curled around her spine.
Well, maybe Gendry was more of the cause, but he was acting in a moment of reasonable temporary insanity.
She finally accepted that she would not find the relief she sought, then twisted the knob to the off position, and whipped open the shower curtain. The bathroom had grown somewhat steamy, but most of the heat had exited though the hole that had placed in their bathroom door the night before. It was big enough to place one's head through, and it had removed any privacy between her and Ros.
Note to self: get piece of cardboard to cover over hole in bathroom door.
Luckily, her fuzzy pink bathrobe, which hung on the hook on the door, covered some of the hole, but not enough to block the view of Theon strutting across the living room naked.
"Theon," she sighed in defeat, as she knew that any attempt to change his behavior was a cause long-lost. "Could you please?"
"What?" Theon answered as he spun around and peered through the hole at Sansa.
"I don't know, maybe put some underwear on," Sansa suggested as she turned her body to the side and slipped the bathrobe on her damp body.
"Hey, I live here too...more or less," he weakly defended himself and Sansa was too tired to try to argue with him. After trying to calm down Ros about the hole in the bathroom door, and trying to convince Arya that Theon was in fact not a flying monkey trying to steal her credit card, she could not relax herself enough to get a peaceful night's sleep.
Sansa exited the bathroom, and quickly turned to her bedroom and changed into her work clothes: a black pair of slacks and a black button-up top, one that she thought went well with her green apron. There wasn't enough time to do her hair the way she wanted to so she quickly pulled it into a messy bun, then looked at her reflection in the mirror and shrugged.
Good enough.
"Your sister's psycho boyfriend owes us a new door," Ros yawned as she exited her room at the same time Sansa came out of hers.
"He's not psycho," Sansa said in defense of Gendry as she gathered her coat and purse for the day ahead.
"He fucking kicked in our door!" she yelled, which startled Theon, who was hungover from the night before, jolted and spilled some coffee on the floor. "I think the best word to describe that is a psycho!"
"Nah," Sansa disagreed as she bundled herself in her parka.
"Then what do you call it?"
"Love," she shrugged, and walked out of the apartment.
A bit later at Starbucks
"Venti sugar-free non-fat mocha latte" the man rattled out, punching each syllable aggressively, certain of each word.
"Umm, okay," Sansa stammered as she looked at the digital screen in front of her, forgetting if she had to put sugar free in first, or non-fat, or if it mattered. "One, venti, sugar free, non fat, umm," she whimpered, biting her bottom lip in thought.
"Mocha latte," the man droned in frustration, evidently lacking any patience for new girls at Starbucks.
"Yes, oh course...one of those coming right up," she said with a smile as she punched in what she thought was the right order, and marked the cup as best possible. Dennis stood behind her, and had luckily heard all the order. "Did you get all of that?" she whispered to him.
"Yeah, don't worry about, you'll get there," the tall man said with a smile, then took the cup from Sansa and began to brew the beverage.
"It'll be up in a minute!" Sansa said with a smile to the man in attempt to make up for a lack of coffee-making skills with spunk and enthusiasm. He didn't seem impressed, and looked down to his phone as he wandered to a table and impatiently waited for his drink. Besides the rude man, the day had thankfully had been slow, but a tad bizarre. Just a few college students quietly sipping lattes in the corner booth, across the way from the man dressed Frankenstein.
He was very polite when he grunted an order for a coffee and a newspaper.
Sansa suspected he had had a long Halloween and just decided to stop by a get some coffee. Everyone that entered stared at him as they passed. Some appeared displeased by his dress, others were flustered, many were amused. It was daring to just sit there and not give a damn, to not care that everyone stared and whispered about you, or that they were all judging you.
I could never do that.
Of course, Sansa was assuming she knew what the monster went though the night before. Sometimes she would make up stories about the people who came up to the counter wanting a drink or a muffin. The tall man with striking red hair was a part-time carny who had just parked his clown car outside. The woman with three children in tow, two of which were shrieking, was clearly thinking about her life choices. But the short man who just staggered in, his story was obvious; much like Frankenstein, his night ended in the morning and he was paying the price.
He couldn't have been much taller than Arya and his hair was thick and blond, and got curly in the back. He looked like a professional man, but was still causal, lacking a tie and wearing some khakis. He had obviously not shaved that morning as he had blond stubble on his chin.
He must have decided that last night wasn't going to end until he passed out.
He stumbled to the counter and gawked for a moment at the menu above Sansa. He appeared to be in a trance, and Sansa decided the best course of action was to break it.
"Good morning!" she excitedly greeted him. "What can I get for you?"
He winced at her and dryly requested, "Less volume," and Sansa felt her smile vanish.
Why am I getting all the grumpy people this morning?
He must have noticed her change in demeanor, as his tone softened along with his expression. "Sorry, I had a long night. I'll have a vanilla latte."
"Oh! My favorite!" she squealed and clapped her hands, then tapped the information into the register.
"Mine too," he agreed and Sansa noticed his eyes graze up and down her body, stopping at certain areas longer than others. As he was...distracted...Sansa noticed how unique his eyes and entire face were. Across his face was a scar, faded against his pale skin, which started above his green right eye and went down past his brow, over the bridge of his nose, and ended under his left eye, which was sky blue. There was so much to his face. Most people had boring faces with no stories to tell. But his face, there was a story of the scar, a stories of his eyes, the story of the blond stubble under his chin. For a moment they pleasantly gawked at each other and enjoyed each others features, but Sansa grew self-conscious as his eyes lingered on her hips for a second longer than she liked.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"Umm, no thank you," he said, then reached for his wallet and handed her his credit card. After she ran his card she turned and marked the cup 'VL.' The man wandered to the side to wait for his drink and stared at her for another moment before his head lolled back and he looked to the ceiling, losing himself in his thoughts.
He began to rub his bloodshot eyes, and she thought that head had probably gotten drunk with some other professional men while sipping martinis at the some fancy bar, then discussed some important matters until early in the morning. She assumed. But, she didn't want to assume with him. She wanted to know.
"Long night?" she asked.
"Yeah...longer than usual."
"Used to long nights?"
He leaned in closer to her and left only a small space on the counter separating them, and his voice lowered as the conversation grew more private. "Afraid so."
"I had a long night too," she admitted to this...unconventional, yet dashing, stranger. "I had a small party with some friends and my bathroom door now has a hole in it."
"Was the hole made at least having a good time?" he asked with a sexy grin.
"Not really, just my sister being my sister."
This comment caught his attention and he gazed at Sansa for a long beat. As Dennis finished the man's latte, Frankenstein thumbed through the sports section, and everyone else went about their lives. But not Sansa. For her, it was just him in this moment as he looked at her with questioning eyes."And why do you put up with her?" he asked.
"Because I love her," Sansa blurted out without a second thought. It was the truth, but she didn't say it enough, most of all to Arya.
"Vanilla latte!" Dennis called and gave the finished product to the man.
"Thank you," he said with a nod Sansa. "I hope the next time a hole is made in a door at least some fun is had with it."
"Thanks?" Sansa replied, taken back by the statement, but was surprised to find she saw wisdom in it after some more thought. "Have a good day," she nodded her head, seeing from behind him Frankenstein approach the counter. She knew the monster had a proper name, a very memorable name, which he had told her when she asked before, but at the moment she couldn't put her finger on it.
"You too," the short man said as he turned and walked out. Before he exited, Sansa swore she caught him peeking over his shoulder at her.
"Hi," the monster droned as he walked up to the register. "Can I have another dark roast?"
"Certainly," Sansa said with a grin, which was more meant for the dashing short man that exited the shop. A dashing short man, a young Sansa would have never noticed like this.
Then again, young Sansa was really stupid.
She prepared the new cup of coffee for the hulking giant, who had gray makeup on his face and fake crimson blood coated the plastic screws attached to his neck. All of this conflicted with the broad and true smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I know you mentioned it before, but what was your name?" she asked. He answered, but she didn't hear as she was looking at the man sitting alone at a table outside who appeared to be contemplating the world and all that was in it.
"Hodor!" the monster bellowed, shaking Sansa from her gaze.
"I'm sorry?"
"Oh, excuse me," the man coughed as he cleared his voice. "My name is Cornelius Walder Hodor"
"Ohh, that's a nice name."
"Thank you very much," he said as he paid for his coffee and gave Sansa a nod. She nodded in return, but her eyes were still fixed on the man.
She usually didn't fixate on men like this...not any more at least...she had learned from experiences with sociopath blonds and tall dark brooding douche bags that she had considered swearing off men all together. But...him...the short messy-haired dashing blond, he was something else.
Damn...and I forgot to get his name.
AN:
A few disclaimers about my story.
This is a companion piece to another story in the Arya/Gendry section called Misfits (or up, up, down, down). Both stories can be read on their own, but fall inside the same universe. For example, what Sansa hears from Arya's room is what happens in the first chapter of the other story. Moreover, Tyrion's POV of meeting Sansa at Starbucks is described midway through 'Misfits.' Also, in the other story I establish that Gendry is Robert Baratheon's son, and so is Edric, but that's it. Gendry, Robert, and Edric (Eddie in the story) are the only Baratheon men. Joffery is just a blond rich little asshole without a last name (and Renly will be a closeted college boy Sansa meets, but we'll get there later.)
My mind has swirled both the show and the books together and I will integrate stuff from both sources in this story.
In this modern AU, they aren't in Westros. To me, to do humor in a story like this, I have to be able to make some pop culture references, and to do that in 'Westros' doesn't work. They are in a place close to Winterfell...which would be Wisconsin. Also, because it is a Modern AU, there will be times characters would act differently then they would the source material – I chalk this up to the fact that people act differently in a medieval fantasy world then in modern-day Wisconsin. I'm trying to reflect what I see as the core of these characters in a modern setting. (Also, I changed Robb to Rob, and Catelyn to Caitlin, because I've actually meet 'Robs' and 'Caitlins')
Oh yeah, one other thing, this could be classified as a 'slow burn.' Partially because of the age difference and partially because they need some time to grow before they meet. However, thanks to the miracle of flashbacks, they'll be together on some level by the sixth or seventh chapter and we'll still explore their past.
Fuck that's a lot of disclaimers. Next time I promise no disclaimers. (Does that promise count as another disclaimer?)
The book Sansa is reading is the original text of the "Beauty and the Beast" by Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont. I bet it has never been placed in a story where the words 'baby batter' were written a few lines later.
Oh yeah, if you didn't guess already, I am not George R.R. Martin, but I am using his characters and some of his story. And he LOVES it so much that I'm writing this.
(Fans of Misfits – sorry for the lack of funny notes. Nothing came to mind, and as I've established before, you can't cram funny into a hole that doesn't want it. Which, again, is an old Amish saying.)
Next time: We learn more about Sansa's teenage years and Tyrion meets his latest client.
