Chapter 9
Robb POV
My mother sits down in a rocking chair on our elegant terrace, my siblings and I following suit in the garden chairs arranged around her. It's a tradition in our household that we always sit together on the terrace every afternoon, and talk about our day at school. The concept is one that most of my classmates would probably say was "lame" or "childish", but I don't think any of my family could imagine it any other way. And being a large family, it's a way for us to discuss things as a whole, instead of splitting off into smaller groups.
"So," my mother says, after everyone's settled down, each stroking our respective husky dogs' fur. "How was everyone's day?" It's amazing to me how she can endure these shocking new revelations about my father's death, but still hides her emotions just to preserve our family's simplicity.
Usually I would be the first sibling to answer her question, because I've always felt that I should be an example of confidence towards my younger brothers and sisters, stepping up to tasks before them, even in something as trivial as talking about my day at school. But so much has happened today, that I have reservations about letting my whole family know about: my attack on Joffrey (which, surprisingly, the teachers haven't got around to telling my mother about), my confrontation with Mr Baelish and going to Dragonstone Island with Daenerys. I'm not even sure yet how I feel about any of these events, and I honestly don't know how to attempt to bring them up without revealing what I know about the Lannisters, or that I hit Joffrey, or that I missed the last three hours of school. I decide to give myself more time to ponder what to say, by gesturing at Bran.
I almost laugh at how superficial my younger siblings' stories from school are, compared with what's happened to me. Bran smiles in pride as he displays his latest A grade in junior school Science, Arya recounts with delight the rather violent-sounding game of tag she played with her friends earlier, and Rickon tells of the snake found in the school playground with fascination in his eyes. Life is still normal for them, I think to myself. But they'll have to find out soon. Before long, I realised that I've zoned out, and it's my turn to recount my day.
"It was your first day of your final year – which they always say is the best year of your life – and you can't even be bothered to tell us about it?" Arya says sardonically, and I ache inside knowing that my lively, innocent little sister will soon have the same burning need for vengeance in her that I had before I hit Joffrey today.
"Well, Arya, it was like any other day, really," I say cheerfully, stalling for time. "Talked to Theon for a bit. He had a good summer, apparently." That's probably the most normal, unremarkable thing that's happened today.
"Also, Daenerys Targaryen's my new, um, lab partner. She'll probably need to come over at some point to work on our project together. On, er, whale anatomy." It sounds ridiculous, but I need some way to excuse my sudden friendship with Daenerys, and a whale anatomy project is apparently the first thing that comes to mind.
"Daenerys Targaryen?" Arya pipes up. "Isn't she that hippie girl you always told me was a bit weird?"
"The very one." I smile. "But she's not as weird as I thought. You'll like her." This seems to please Arya a little, and she asks no more questions.
"That's nice, Robb. A new friend." My mother says warmly, wearing her signature mundane, emotion-concealing, quiet smile. "How about you, Sansa?" she continues, gesturing to my other sister, who peacefully gazes out into the garden.
Sansa looked troubled throughout our family gathering, as if she knows I'm holding something in. Arya, still in the younger half of Iron Throne High, probably missed my whole skirmish with Joffrey, but doubtless Sansa at least heard something about it. I'm just glad she hasn't blown my cover.
"It was fine, Mum." Sansa replies. "Everyone was the same. Classes the same. Friends the same. Life the same." There's an unnecessary cynicism in her voice, considering Sansa has never had any major problems at school, and she's too young for any kind of cynicism. "May I please be excused? There's someone I need to call."
"Who?" My mother asks suspiciously.
"Oh, no one. Just a guy I was talking to at school."
I twitch in my chair at this. "A guy? Who?" I ask, with more curiosity than suspicion.
"It doesn't matter!" says Sansa, suddenly defensive.
"If it doesn't matter, then you shouldn't need to call him." My mother chips in, using a classic line.
"Fine," Sansa sighs, slumping back in her chair and rolling her eyes. Ever the stereotypical teenager. As if on cue, the landline rings inside the house.
"That'll be him! Mum, please. He called me. Let me pick up." My mother nods knowingly, giving in to Sansa's pleas.
While Sansa's gone, the younger ones are gradually distracted by one thing or another, as young children usually are, and my mother's attention is diverted by the need to keep their childish whims under control. Soon enough, I find myself alone on the garden terrace. I use the solitude as an opportunity to think again about my talk with Daenerys earlier. While I'd expected her to be horrified at the thought of the Lannisters somehow murdering my father, she didn't seem surprised at all, as if murder between our families is the natural way. And perhaps it is. However, she did make me question my certainty about the matter.
"But how do you know your mother's right?" I remember her saying, in her eloquent, slightly accented voice. "And when Joffrey said he did 'nothing of the sort'? 'Course he was lying. Do you really think he'd tell the truth about a murder?"
One of my greatest flaws, I've learned, is that I assume everyone always tells the truth, like my family and I do. Daenerys called me out on this flaw, but she didn't do it in a mean way, more in a helpful way. That's what first enchanted me about her in Mr Baelish's office, how she was able to turn around situations and make people see things in totally different lights. In not many words at all, she helped me to see that I've perhaps been too presumptuous in going ahead and attacking a Lannister so soon: my mother might have made a ludicrous assumption out of paranoia after her husband's death, and I still have no idea how the Lannisters went about murder, if they did, or which Lannister is most responsible. She also convinced me that she cared about my predicament, and was willing to use her talents to avenge my father.
I'm so lost in thought about Daenerys – the well-crafted sentences she produced, her sheer passion for Dragonstone Island and everything it symbolises, the fierceness in her voice when she promised me eventual revenge – that I don't see Sansa standing inside the doorway, holding the phone.
"It's for you, Robb," she says resentfully, obviously disappointed that it wasn't that mysterious boy she mentioned. "Some girl. Says she's a friend." Sansa smirks knowingly, which annoys me. It's not that I haven't thought about Daenerys in that way, it's just that it would never be a relationship my sister should tease me about.
"Give it to me." I say, with more aggression than I intended. "It's my lab partner. We have to talk about whale anatomy. It's a complicated thing, you know."
My pathetic excuse seems to have convinced Sansa, and she hands me the phone. I walk into the house, and head in the vague direction of my room.
"Hey Daenerys," I say into the phone, hiding the excitement in my voice at continuing the afternoon's discussion.
"Hey," she replies, her voice crackling a little on the phone, but still retaining the brightness and clarity that made me recognise it in the office. "I found your home number in the school directory. Thought you might like a chat. Murder and revenge are pretty much the only common ground we have at the moment, and they aren't really topics that we can wrap up in an afternoon." I can hear the smirk in her voice. That's another of Daenerys's redeeming qualities: she can inject much-needed humour into the most serious of situations.
"Yeah. A chat is very much necessary." I laugh in reply, and slump down on my bed, and shut the door from intruding mothers and siblings. I don't intend to leave the room for a while.
A/N: Sorry about this, but I'm going away for a week again, from tomorrow until next Saturday, and again I'm not bringing the computer. But I'll try to update more often when I get back! Once again sorry :( - C
