Hey! :D

I just seriously felt the need to do this, considering I'm rewatching all of Glee. And my brain just won't stop dreaming this when I'm asleep. So this baby was born.

This is more of a fun project than anything serious, so don't take it that way!

I OWN NOTHING except for my OCs in this. The songs belong to their respectful owners, and the ASoIaF characters belong to GRRM. Praise.

So basically here's the cast so far:

Elira: Rachel

Robb: Finn

Rhaegar: Mr. Schue

I seriously, highly believe in the Rhaegar/Lyanna/Jon theory, BUT, for this to work, I just made Jon the actual kid of Ned and Ashara Dayne. So yeah. And then obviously he's not dead. Oops.

Any suggestions/comments would be appreciated!

Enjoy!


Elira

I dash towards the signup sheet, the heels of my boots clicking on the floor in time with my heartbeat. I slow down a bit when I notice people looking at me. Let them stare, I think to myself. Casually, I fix my beret as I walk by a group of cheerleaders. I readjust my messenger bag on my shoulder, my eyes never leaving the billboard. It was as if the paper was calling my name, beckoning me, begging me to grace it with my signature.

I set my bag down and dig inside of it for a pen. Successfully, I snatch one and shoot back up, ignoring the strange looks. I really don't care about them anymore; there's not a day that goes by without me being on the receiving end of the looks.

Around here, it's almost unheard of to be different. Being from a small town, everyone knows each other. And...talk goes around quickly. A lot of people think that's a bad thing, but I enjoy it. If everyone in this town already knows my name, then less people will have to learn it when I hit the big time.

Too bad I'm the only one with that logic.

I uncap the pen and scribble my name on the signup sheet, excitement bubbling up inside of me. Satisfied, I slip the pen back into my bag and sling it back on my shoulder. 'Elira Manston' just looks so...natural up on the billboard where everyone can see. A grin finds its way onto my face as I think of my name in shining lights in Times Square. First stop, Westeros High. Second...Broadway.

You might think that I'm dreaming too big, or that my ego's too large. At this rate, I must sound like one of those cocky people that audition for a singing show, and really, I don't have an ounce of talent.

But that's where you're wrong.

I've been in the musical arts ever since I can remember. My brothers got spoiled in sports, and the arts were left to me. Not that I'm complaining. I can't see myself doing anything else. Music is my home. And I plan to make a name for myself in it.

Not that the competition in this school is stiff. Besides me, there's, what? Three good singers? But that's the thing. Good isn't enough. You have to be great, excellent, flawless. You have to be the best. Since I already hold that title at my school, I know I can slowly take over the music industry.

I'm snapped out of my reverie as I'm pushed to the floor. A curse escapes my lips, the books in my arms falling all over the floor. Just great. I get booked and pushed a lot, I'm not gonna lie. Like I said, being different here is unheard of.

"Sorry about that," a voice mutters. I flick my eyes up and instantly feel my breath catch in my throat. Kneeling in front of me, grabbing at his books which are now mixed with mine, is quite possibly the only person who can reduce me to a complete idiot. Robb Stark, captain of the football team and undoubtedly the most popular guy in school, just talked to me. Me. His kind of people never mingle with people like me. It's basic knowledge; the social hierarchy of high school.

"I-it's fine," I manage to squeak out, my cheeks flaming. I hide behind a curtain of my hair, keeping my eyes downcast. I reach for a book at the same time as he does. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. Robb Stark is touching me. And he doesn't pull away. I feel as if I'll explode any second.

"Elira Manston, right?" Oh my god. He knows my name. I give him the smallest nod of my head. "You're Ryker's twin?" Oh, of course. That's the only reason he knows me. My brother's on the football team with him. You're not special enough for him to have reason to know you. To him, you're just another dork. The bottom rung of the social ladder.

I let out a huff of air and grab my last couple of books. "That's me." I shove the books into my bag, my whole body on fire. Way to make a fool out of yourself, Elle.

"I saw you at last year's spring concert," Robb tells me, zipping up his schoolbag. "You were really good." Hesitantly, I look up from my bag and meet his sparkling blue eyes. Oh god he's smiling at you. He complimented you. Do something!

"T-thanks," I stutter, managing a small smile in return.

He picks up my beret from the ground, which I hadn't even noticed had fallen off my head. "I believe this is yours?" He offers it to me, still smiling that stupid smile of his.

"Y-yeah," I mumble, darting out my hand. I snatch it away from him, not wanting to touch him again, since I'm one hundred percent sure I'd burst into flames. I don't even bother putting it on; instead, I cram it into the pocket of my skirt.

Robb hops up and slings his backpack onto his shoulder. It takes me a moment to realize that he's holding his hand out for me to help me up. I must be eyeing him oddly, because he chuckles nervously and shuffles his feet. "I won't bite."

A faint sound escapes my parted lips and I furrow my brow. Robb Stark, what has gotten into you? I accept his outstretched hand, the contact shooting fire into my veins. He lifts me to my feet, then picks up my bag and hands it to me. Our eyes lock for a moment, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Judging by the small smirk on his face, I'm certain he can hear it.

"Thanks." I jerk my hand away, grab my bag then brush past him. I practically run to my locker, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up into a ball on my bed. I'm probably the laughing stock of the school by now. I acted like a complete moron in front of Robb, and no way in hell is he going to forget that.

I feel my lips curve upwards into a smile as I think of his fingers intertwined with mine. My hand's still tingling from the touch. Hastily, I slip my hands into my pockets. My fingers curl around the beret, my smile widening.

So maybe I won't forget this, either.


"Next!" Mr. Targaryen's voice echoes in the almost empty auditorium. I spring out of my seat and climb the steps to the stage. I take center stage, the spotlight shining brightly on me. The tension eases out of my shoulders; I'm home.

I put on my most charming smile. "Hi, I'm Elira Manston, and I'll be singing 'Hopelessly Devoted to You' from the timeless musical classic, Grease."

"Fantastic." Mr. Targaryen smiles. He jots things down in his notepad, then looks back up at me. "Let's hear it."

I take a deep breath. This is it.

"Guess mine is not the first heart broken,
my eyes are not the first to cry I'm not the first to know,
there's just no getting' over you.
I know I'm just a fool who's willing to sit around
and wait for you.
"

Somehow, Robb comes into my mind. I imagine him sitting there, in the front row, cheering me on with his piercing blue eyes and his bloody stupid smile.

"But baby can't you see, there's nothin' else
for me to do. I'm hopelessly devoted to you.
But now there's nowhere to hide,
since you pushed my love aside I'm out of my head,
hopelessly devoted to you
Hopelessly devoted to you,
hopelessly devoted to you.
"

Mr. Targaryen nods his head and smiles once more. "Very nice, Elira."

"So when do we start rehearsals?"