Episode 10

"Troubled Waters"

Gossip Spyder

Well, hello everyone!

It definitely looks like those rumors around Arya Stark and Braavos Academy senior, and The Faceless Men frontman, Jaqen H'ghar are proving to be true – the two were spotted together at the Narrow Sea Wildlife Park & Aquarium on the weekend…holding hands! What do we think, peeps? Are they definitely dating, or just testing the waters? See the pictures for yourself!

The countdown to the Battle of The Bands will begin soon! I here there are going to be some pretty spectacular bands entering this year. In addition to our own Brotherhood Without Banners and The Faceless Men, the current list of entrants on the organizers website includes all-girl punk rockers the Silent Sisters, and a new entrant calling themselves Wildlings. I have a feeling this year's comp will be epic!

Okay, now for something serious and totally different to what I normally post - the headline on this morning's King's Landing Herald News read that there was some trouble surrounding the Baratheon Inc. & Stark Ind. joint-venture – I don't understand all of what was said, but I'm only mentioning it here because most of us at this school have parents employed at Baratheon Inc. There was something about possible losses of jobs at Baratheon Inc. – let's hope this is only a minor setback and that this will all be sorted out soon!

TTFN

Gossip Spyder

Gendry

Today's the day, he decided. I'll ask her first thing when I see her today.

It was Monday morning, and he was well rested, and though he thoroughly enjoyed being in the band, he was glad he didn't have band practice that afternoon. Much as he liked Beric, the guy could be a total fanatical pain when it came to his music. He wanted to spend some time with Arya. He'd been too caught up with band stuff and preparing for the Battle that he'd barely seen or spoken to her over the past week. He sent her a text message asking her if she wanted a ride to school, before he went to shower and get ready. He was expecting a text back from her saying yes, so he was surprised when she replied that she already had a ride, and that she'd see him at school. Slightly disappointed that he'd have to wait a bit longer to see her, he finished dressing and fixing his hair.

Thinking about what he was going to do, he couldn't help but grow nervous. He'd been surprised at how easy, and how natural it had felt to kiss her. The look on her face when he'd pulled back had been promising as well. He'd have acted much sooner, but he'd been psyching himself up all week, and planning what he'd possibly do if she said yes…and what he'd do if she said no. In the end, he had to take the risk. He was certain that Arya liked him enough to at least give him a chance. If not, he was sure they could go back to being friends.

His phone buzzed, and thinking it was Arya changing her mind, he quickly picked it up to read the text message. It was from Hot Pie.

"Dude, u seen da Spyder's post dis morning yet?"

So Gendry opened a browser on his smart phone, and logged onto the Gossip Spyder's site. What he found there made all the blood in his veins go cold first, then hot, in anger and disappointment.

No, he thought. This can't be right. He saw the photos, and another wave of disappointment, and now jealousy washed over him. It was there, plain for him and everyone to see. Arya was holding hands with Jaqen H'ghar. They had been at the Aquarium, and there was no denying that it had been a date.

I'm too late.

Gendry felt so stupid. The Gossip Spyder had been right all these weeks. There was a reason Jaqen and Arya were constantly being spotted together, but he'd believed Arya when she'd denied her involvement with Jaqen. Why had she lied? Why didn't she just tell him the truth about Jaqen?

Because she knows I don't like the guy. Well, he wasn't going to like Jaqen any better, especially now. I shouldn't have waited! I should have asked her out earlier! I should have been the one holding her hand!

He suddenly didn't feel like going to school. He didn't want to have to look at Arya. He didn't know if he could stand to. He paced back and forth, slamming his fist into his palm, wishing he could slam his fist into Jaqen H'ghar instead. He should have known. He should have known!

Edric had tried to warn him about Jaqen.

"Girls are constantly throwing themselves at him, and Arya won't be any different," the blonde drummer had said.

The statement hadn't meant much to him at the time, but now he wished he'd given it more thought. And what would you have done about it? Gendry sat on the edge of his bed for some time, trying to gain control of his disappointment and anger, and overall sense of loss. How does that saying go, he wondered, you can't lose what you never had?

He sneered cynically. That was a completely bogus sentiment. If anyone would know about loss, it was him. Much of his childhood, before coming to live with the Motts, had been spent being sad about the loss of one thing or another. He knew very well, that not having possessed something did not equate to not knowing what you've missed, or what you've lost.

He'd never had a father, so he'd watched the other boys in his elementary class participate in father-son sports events at school, and watched the other kids make Father's Day cards. He'd felt that loss clear enough. He could barely remember his mother, and he'd never had a real family life so he'd watched school friends go home to their families and sit around a table at meal times, and listen as kids talked about family holidays over summer or Christmas. He'd felt that loss, too. He'd never known his father's name, and as soon as he was old enough to start questioning who he was and where'd he'd come from, he understood that part of his identity would be lost to him.

Gendry was used to dealing with loss, and he hadn't forgotten how either.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and stood up. He'd go to school.

Calm again, some logic crept back into his brain.

"Think Gendry," he said to himself, "you don't know for sure what's going on."

He needed to speak with Arya, and find out what the deal was with her and Jaqen. He needed to find out how serious things were between them, and whether he'd really lost her before he even had her. He forced himself to look at the photo of Arya and Jaqen again. Seeing the happy expression on Arya's face, and the more than pleased look on Jaqen's, Gendry steeled himself. If he had to, he'd figure out how to deal with losing Arya to Jaqen H'ghar.

He reached school, and to his dismay, the talk amongst the girls in his homeroom class was all about Arya Stark and the uber-sexy Braavos Academy senior she was dating.

"How did she manage to snag him?" a girl in front of Gendry asked her friend beside her, "I mean, she's a freshman?"

"Freshman or not, she's a little hottie," said her friend, "have you seen her recently?"

Gendry must have made a noise, because one of them turned around and noticed him.

"Gendry, you're Arya's friend, right?"

"Right," he'd replied, wincing inwardly at the word friend.

"As her friend…" There was that word again. "…Would you know how long she's been seeing Jaqen?"

"No," he bit out, and it rankled that he didn't.

"I just remembered!" the other girl suddenly said, "your band and Jaqen's are going to be competing against each other! Who'll Arya be cheering for? You, her friend? Or, Jaqen her boyfriend?"

You, her friend. Gendry swore that if either girl said the word friend again, he was liable to do something he'd regret. Thankfully, the bell rang for first period and he was saved from anymore questions about Arya. Hot Pie had looked at him curiously, and Gendry could tell the guy had questions of his own about his distant behavior, but Hot Pie wisely kept them to himself.

At lunch time, Arya and Hot Pie were already at their usual picnic bench at the quad when Gendry walked through the cafeteria doors. Arya looked gorgeous, and Gendry stopped for a moment just so he could watch her, uninterrupted.

She was wearing her new tighter fitting jeans, and a flowing, dark purple blouse. Her hair had been caught up with clips behind her ears, and it looked like she was wearing pink lipgloss as well, which was something he'd never seen her do. Who are you dressing up for, Arya? He wondered angrily.

With a nervousness he'd never felt around Arya before, Gendry walked over as casually as he could and sat down on the bench opposite her.

"Hey, how are you?" she asked him, and the smile she gave him caused a pain in his chest.

"Fine," he replied, "you?"

"I'm great, thanks."

"How was your weekend?" he asked, unable to stop a trace of bitterness from creeping into his voice.

"My weekend was great," Arya replied, sounding cautious.

"Yeah? Anything exciting happen?" he prompted, "anything you want to share with us?"

Arya eyed him warily, seeing something in his stormy blue eyes and the line of his jaw that suddenly set her on edge.

"Is there something in particular you want to ask me, Gendry?"

"Only if there's something you want to tell me," he replied.

From the look on her face, she knew exactly what he was talking about. Gendry never meant to come across aggressive, but now that his aggression had come to surface, he didn't know how to reign it back in.

Arya glared at him, the question 'how dare you?' obvious in her eyes but remaining unsaid.

"No," she finally said, her voice calm but he heard the indignation all the same. "There's nothing you need to know."

That's how it's going to be, Gendry thought. He couldn't sit there any longer.

"I need to see Beric about something."

Without looking at Arya, he stood up and left.

He didn't contact her, or speak to her at school for the rest of the week.

Eddard

Ned was sitting in his study at Chateau Maegor, drinking a 25 year-old, Laphroaig single malt from a cut crystal tumbler. It was reasonably early in the day for him to be drinking, and he had a mountain of paperwork to go through, but he couldn't concentrate. He'd hoped the whiskey would calm him, as it usually did, but it wasn't helping him at that moment. He took another swallow. Maybe I just need to drink more.

Someone had leaked the issues Robert Baratheon was having with his company to the papers, and sure enough, everything had been blown out of proportion. Robert's PR team were now in repair mode, but Ned feared that the damage had already been done. There was now too much talk about Robert's company downsizing and jobs being cut, and there was speculation about why the joint-venture was taking place in the first instance. Some smart analyst had worked out that Stark Industries was getting involved in order to bail Baratheon Incorporated out of trouble. It was too close to the truth for Ned's liking.

Apart from work, the other issue on his mind concerned the conversation he'd had with Robert about Gendry Waters.

"I want you to tell me what you know about my boy," Robert had said to him.

Not thinking, he'd immediately thought the man was referring to Joffrey.

"No, Ned. My real son…Gendry Waters."

Ned had taken half a second to recover from his surprise. "I don't believe I know what you're talking about."

"Ah…come off it, Ned!" Robert had scoffed, "I know you've been asking questions."

Still, Ned had acknowledged nothing. He would hear the truth of the matter, as Robert saw fit to tell him.

"I know that look." Robert had sobered up. "It means I won't get anything out of you. So fine, I'll do the talking. The boy is mine, there's no denying it…just look at him. He's more my son than Joffrey is."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what you think I'm saying," Robert had ground out, "Cersei is a lying, cheating whore and I'm willing to bet what's left of my fortune that my kids, are not my kids."

"You don't know for sure?"

"Nah." Robert had shaken his head. "But I could, easily. We're not in medieval times, Ned. We've got tests for that these days." The big man had then let out a loud sigh. "But what would be the point? I'm the only father these kids know, and besides, I'm not much better than that bitch I married. After all, Gendry is about the same age as Joffrey. Do the math…I would have screwed that boy's mother around the time I married that Lannister bitch. "

Ned had remained in stunned silence.

"I should have seen it earlier, Ned. The kids take nothing after me…Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen all have that typical Lannister look about them, you know? Blonde hair and green eyes." Robert then let out a harsh laugh. "Cersei may as well have fucked Jaime, that arrogant twin brother of hers!"

Ned had winced at Robert's crudeness.

"What are you going to do?" he'd asked instead.

"Nothing, other than what I've already done for the boy," Robert replied, his manner suggesting it a foregone conclusion that Ned knew everything about Gendry's inheritance. "Cersei can keep fucking whoever she wants, and I'll do the same, as I always have."

"You're not going to divorce her?"

"Divorce?" Robert had laughed. "Cersei would love that, but I'm not about to start doing anything she might actually want! Besides, being married means I have a legitimate reason for ditching scheming gold-diggers."

You haven't got that much gold left to dig for. Ned had bitten back his retort.

"And the kids?" Ned had said instead, unable to bring himself to say, your kids.

"Can remain oblivious." Robert had shrugged. "I know I'm not any kind of father, but at least they can have my name…whatever its worth. No one else needs to know about this, Ned. Did you know that the girl, Myrcella, has just been offered a place at some posh European dance school?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"Well, Cersei's throwing a farewell party for her this weekend," Robert informed him, "your daughter's coming."

"Is she? She hasn't told me about it."

"Don't worry, she'll be safe." Robert waved his arm dismissively. "Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that the kids are better off not knowing."

Ned had thought the same thing.

Robert had then sighed, and Ned had given him a questioning look.

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my time, Ned. I probably shouldn't have ignored that woman when she'd told me she was pregnant with my kid."

"You knew about Gendry? The whole time?"

"No," Robert had corrected him. "I didn't know about Gendry, per se. I knew he might have existed, I just didn't know for sure until recently."

"When? Why did you decide to seek him out?"

"I had a heart attack," Robert announced, "or at least I thought I was having a heart attack…turns out it was just a bad case of indigestion!"

Ned had not found this amusing. "You are too fat, and you drink too much."

"Don't you start that with me!"

"Just get on with it."

"Don't judge me for my gluttony or my drinking…I am married to Cersei Lannister." Robert had rubbed a hand over his face, before continuing his story. "After I thought I was going to die, I got to thinking of the things I'd told myself I'd do before I actually died."

"You have a bucket list?" Ned had scoffed.

"Turns out I do, and finding out if I did have a kid by that waitress was on the list."

Ned had found Robert's tale incredible, but perhaps a near-death experience could be blamed for the sudden awaking of the man's conscience.

"I wish I could meet the boy, Ned," Robert had said, wearing a somber expression on his face that Ned hadn't seen since the day his sister, Lyanna, had died. "I'd like to speak to him, and see how he turned out."

Ned decided he'd share a little of what he'd learned about Gendry with Robert.

"He's a good kid, Robert," he volunteered, "he's polite, generous and thoughtful. I've met him."

"You have? How? When?"

"He's friends with my youngest daughter."

Robert had stared at him a moment. "Polite, generous and thoughtful you say?"

"Yes, Robert." Ned had smiled wanly. "He's nothing like you."

"Thank fucking Christ for that!"

Ned shook himself from his memory and finished his glass of whiskey. Shaking his head at the task that now lay before him, he sat down at his desk and took out the dossier he'd been supplied by Robert's assistant.

He spread the documents out on the desk and picked up the thickest of the pile. With another sigh, he flipped the cover and began to read Mace Tyrell's proposal.

Sandor

It was getting harder to be around her. Sandor admitted that to himself. It was proving more difficult to be near her, and not want to act on his instincts to rip her out of Joffrey's arms. Friends, she'd said. She wanted to be his friend. Well, fuck that. He didn't want her friendship. He wanted more than that. He wanted something he never thought he'd ever come to want…something he couldn't bring himself to name. But there was something he knew clear enough.

He wanted Sansa Stark.

He'd wanted her from the moment he'd met her, although he'd been refusing to acknowledge it for weeks. But now, his body wouldn't let him deny it. Not since the night he'd taken her to Serpentine Alley, and after her stupid tree climbing incident – or more accurately, what happened when she'd jumped into his arms. He'd been so pissed off with Joffrey for off-loading his girlfriend onto him that day. Mostly because he hadn't wanted to be alone in the car with her, not after watching her parade around half-naked most of the day. Yet he had also been ridiculously pleased that she wasn't going home with Joffrey, and that the jerk's seduction plans had been shot to pieces.

Sansa had been visibly upset when she'd gotten into his car, and the silence had been uncomfortable, so it had come as a massive shock when she'd said she didn't want to go home yet…and then she'd begged him to take her with him. He'd sworn at her, because part of him had known that she didn't want to be alone on her birthday, and she just happened to be stuck with him. While another part of him – his ego or his cock, he didn't care – had been all too happy to be spending time with a hot girl.

He had been hungry, he hadn't lied about that, and he'd have been happy with a couple of Big Mac's, but he knew he couldn't just take Sansa to McDonald's. He also didn't want the risk of anyone seeing them together, and word of it getting to the Gossip Spyder. Flea Bottom had seemed like his safest bet. His favorite place was the trattoria, and he remembered the cake house his mother used to take him to, thinking Sansa might like the quirkily decorated café. Lemon cakes had been his mother's favorite and she always used to say that the cake house on Serpentine Alley served the best she'd ever had. He'd said the same thing to Sansa off the top of his head…turned out lemon cakes were her all-time, last-meal-on-earth, favorite food ever.

He wasn't certain what had made him take her to the cliff-top lookout, or how he'd even remembered that she liked looking at views, but wherever his inspiration had come from, he'd never been more thankful for it. He'd watched her silently, observed her profile, committing it to memory.

She'd clutched at his arm as well, and while the feeling of her hand on his bicep had surprised him, he'd relished it as well. He could still remember the warmth of her fingers through his sleeve, and the citrusy scent of her hair.

And then for whatever reason known only to her, Sansa had climbed up a tree and gotten herself stuck. At first, he hadn't been sure that he'd heard a cell phone chiming in the quad that afternoon. Only by sheer luck had he been looking towards the tree when a breeze had rustled the leaves and he'd seen a flash of red hair among the branches. He'd been amused, exasperated and a little worried when he'd seen just how high she had climbed, especially considering her fear of heights. He'd thought for a moment that he would have had to climb the tree himself in order to get her down, and he hadn't relished that idea. He was six-six and over two hundred pounds, and he doubted those branches would have held his weight. Luckily Sansa had moved on her own.

He'd held out his hands to her, and warm tingles had shot up his arm when she'd taken his hand. The tingles had then spread through his whole body the moment she'd jumped into his arms. He'd held her against him, and felt her breasts against his chest, while one of her hands gripped his shoulder. Then she'd leaned on him, and he'd wished he could keep her in his arms. Then he'd felt himself go hard, and he was glad she had pulled away when she had, before she could notice his reaction to her nearness.

He wanted Sansa Stark.

Sandor slammed the door of his locker, and the loud metallic clang covered the sound of the sigh that he released. He turned in the direction of the quad, and ran into Joffrey on his way. He barely acknowledged the blonde jerk, but fell into step with him regardless.

"Something's up with Sansa," Joffrey muttered without preamble, and Sandor turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"She's been acting strangely," Joffrey said, frowning. "She doesn't want me touching her."

"Really?" Sandor tried not to sound too interested.

"She was mad at me about her birthday and shit, but I got her flowers and said sorry and all that…"He made a face. "That Theon Greyjoy's been posting stuff up on her Facebook."

"Like what?"

"Photos of them together, from back when they were still up North, and recent ones from when he and the Stark brothers visited…look." Joffrey took out his phone and logged onto his Facebook account, then shoved the phone into Sandor's hands when he'd found what he was after.

There was an album full of photos of various Stark family events and outings. Sandor's eyes immediately sought out Sansa, and he wasn't surprised to find that even as a little girl, Sansa was very pretty. There was another album of the recent snaps taken during their visit. One photo was just of Theon and Sansa, with Theon standing behind Sansa, his arms around her waist. Sansa's smile was sweet enough, but didn't reach her eyes. It was tagged, 'With birthday girl number 1 at House of Black & White'.

"Hey sexy, great seeing you again…I'll be missing you!" Theon had posted to Sansa.

Underneath was a comment from Robb Stark. "I can see this post Theon…I know where you live. I dare you to call her sexy again!"

Underneath that was another comment from Theon. "Sansa is sexy sexy SEXY!"

"Idiots." Arya Stark had written beneath that.

Sandor scowled.

"Maybe she's cheating on me with Greyjoy," Joffrey stated.

"He's hundreds of miles away," Sandor reminded him.

"Maybe it's someone else then." Joffrey shrugged, but his mouth had thinned. "She'd better not be sneaking around behind my back."

Sandor knew Joffrey well enough to know that Joffrey's behaviour was driven by his need to possess. Sansa was his toy, and no one got to play with her but him.

"How could she be?" Sandor asked with carefully, "you're always with her."

"True, and the only other guy she's ever alone with is you," Joffrey added, "and you scare her, so I know she'll never go for you."

Sandor's scowl darkened.

"Take a look at this other photo." Joffrey showed him an image of Sansa and Theon, with the caption reading 'party at winterfell', dated during the summer just gone. Theon had tagged Sansa in the photo, under which he'd written; "Hey sexy, thanks for making summer so memorable…"

They approached the picnic table where all their friends were sitting, and Joffrey said something that Sandor couldn't catch when he spotted Sansa.

"…think I'll just ask her straight out," was what he did hear Joffrey say, and before he could do anything to stop him, Joffrey was stalking over towards Sansa.

Sandor watched with apprehension. He could see what was coming, and he wished he had some way of warning her, but this had nothing to do with him. He would keep out of it.

"What's going on between you and Theon Greyjoy?" Joffrey asked her, and immediately, Sansa's face went red.

Interesting, Sandor thought upon seeing Sansa's reaction.

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked, eyes wary and guarded.

"What's with all these messages on Facebook? He always refers to you as sexy."

"That's just Theon, being Theon," Sansa said.

"What happened last summer, Sansa?"

"Nothing!" she replied, eyes wide.

She's lying, Sandor frowned.

"Why does he keep saying he misses you?"

"Because, maybe he does," Sansa conceded, "he's like Robb to me, Joffrey. I don't understand why you're being like this."

Everyone at their table was now watching them avidly, waiting for whatever would come next. Sandor could feel everyone's discomfort, in addition to Sansa's mortification at this public altercation.

"He shouldn't be touching you like that," Joffrey said.

Sandor agreed.

"Only I should be touching you that way!" Joffrey hissed.

Sandor did not agree.

"It means nothing, Joffrey!" Sansa insisted, "please, can we talk about this somewhere else?"

Sansa grabbed hold of Joffrey's arm and pulled him away from the immediate surrounding group of tables where every student within earshot was listening and watching, and Sansa eventually led Joffrey behind a tree on the edge of the quad.

Maneuvering himself, Sandor was able to observe Joffrey's agitated actions as he ranted at Sansa, and as Sansa's face became stressed and apologetic as she sought to contain Joffrey's temper.

Sandor hoped that she said the right things to appease the blond jerk. For her own good, he sincerely hoped she did.

"What do you think she's saying?" a feminine voice asked him.

Sandor looked down and found Jeyne Poole at his elbow, looking over at Joffrey and Sansa with genuine worry on her face. Jeyne never usually spoke to him, but the sophomore's concern for Sansa appeared to be greater than her fear of him.

"I don't know." Sandor frowned. "You should probably stick around though, to make sure she's okay."

Sansa was again holding onto Joffrey's arm, and she looked to be pleading with him. Joffrey looked like he was resisting, and Sansa's lips continued to move. Gradually, Sandor watched Joffrey's stance relax. Whatever pretty words Sansa was saying to him appeared to be working.

"Do you know anything, Jeyne?" he asked quietly, not expecting an honest answer. "What's with Sansa and Theon?"

Jeyne glanced up at him warily, and Sandor could see she was resisting the urge to flinch when he met her eyes.

"There's nothing," she replied, "not on her part, anyway."

Jeyne probably expected him to tell Joffrey, but Sandor had no intention of doing so. It didn't surprise him to know that Theon Greyjoy may be interested in Sansa. He was sure plenty of guys were interested.

He turned back to where Joffrey and Sansa were standing behind the tree, and found that Joffrey now had his arms possessively around Sansa, and was kissing her. Something about the way Sansa was standing in the blonde's arms looked awkward, and Sandor felt the now familiar urge to rip her out of Joffrey's arms.

"Oh, look. They made up," he sneered, then he looked at Jeyne. "See that she's okay, will you?"

Without waiting for her to respond, he got up and walked away, and didn't see the curious expression on Jeyne's face as she watched him leave.

Sansa

The Baratheon's had booked out several function rooms at the exclusive Hook Restaurant at Aegon's High Hill. A luncheon was being held for Myrcella's farewell, but Sansa could see that most of the guests in attendance were adults, friends and acquaintances of the Baratheons and Lannisters. An invitation had been extended to her parents, but they had declined on account of a prior engagement her father had committed to.

The dress code was smart casual, and almost all the men present wore nice shirts and jackets with tailored trousers, while the women wore tea-dresses and shifts. Sansa was wearing a pastel green fit-and-flare dress that skimmed her knees and cinched in at her waist. Her hair, she had worn into a loose twist at the base of her head, and kitten heels on her feet.

Myrcella did have some of her school friends present, and all the girls wore teary expressions at the fact Myrcella was going to be away indefinitely. The Dorne Academy had officially accepted her for one year, but there was a strong possibility she would be invited to extend her studies. As it turned out, Myrcella was flying out that evening, and Sansa learned that Myrcella's parents had assigned a personal bodyguard to accompany her, and watch out for her while she was away.

In all honesty, Sansa had not wanted to come to the party at all, especially after the fight she'd had with Joffrey the day prior, but she'd made a promise to Myrcella to be there. It had taken a sickening amount of sweet-talking to get Joffrey to calm down, and when she'd gotten home that night, the first thing she'd done was unsubscribe from Theon's posts on Facebook to try and limit what Joffrey would find on her wall.

She'd been frightened of the look in Joffrey's eyes that day, and she'd been shaking the entire time she'd been trying to calm him down. He had a temper on him, and she had the inexplicable fear that he could lash out at any moment. She hadn't liked it one bit, and she feared having to see the face of Joffrey's jealousy again. She damned Theon Greyjoy to hell for causing trouble for her, even from hundreds of miles away. She now sighed, and focused her attention on the present.

Sansa had met a number of the Baratheon and Lannister family members before, but she'd never really had the opportunity to speak with many of them previously. She now found herself standing in front of two, markedly different and evidently Lannister men. Both had the same golden-blond hair, but one was tall, and the other dwarf-size. The shorter one was holding out a flute of pink lemonade to Sansa.

"Thank you," she said as she accepted the glass from him, and hid her surprise at his appearance.

"You're welcome, Miss Stark," he said, "I don't believe we've met. Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Tyrion Lannister."

She'd recognized him even before he'd spoken his name. Joffrey had told her about his Uncle Tyrion, the dwarf. The other man beside him was Jaime Lannister, who stood as tall and muscular as Joffrey. Sansa found it uncanny how much Joffrey resembled his Uncle Jaime, and wondered if Joffrey would grow up to be half as graceful and elegant as the man in front of her.

"It's nice to meet you," Sansa said to Tyrion.

"I hear you're the young lady that's captured Joffrey's heart." Jaime smiled, and Sansa flushed. "We Lannister men have always had impeccable taste in women, and it's good to see Joffrey has inherited our discerning eye for beauty."

"I also see where he gets his talent for flattery," Sansa heard herself say.

Both men laughed, and Sansa was surprised to see that Tyrion's prominent brows, as characterized those with his kind of dwarfism, and his mismatched black and green eyes, did not seem so unattractive when he smiled.

"And you have wit to go with your charm," said Tyrion.

"She must get that from her mother," said a third voice that Sansa did not recognize.

"Ah, Baelish. I don't believe you've met Ned Stark's eldest daughter," Jaime said to the newcomer.

Sansa turned to find a man in his forties with dark hair distinguished by streaks of silver throughout. He was lean in build and of a height with her, and sported a trimmed goatee. The man reached out to take her free hand as Jaime introduced her.

"This is Sansa Stark,"

"Petyr Baelish, at your service." Petyr placed a light kiss on the back of Sansa's hand, and she fought the instinct to snatch her hand away. "You're just as beautiful as your mother."

"Oh, you know my mother?" Sansa asked.

"I did." Petyr smiled at her. "I knew her when she was still known as Catelyn Tully."

"You're an old friend then." Sansa returned his smile politely. "I will let my mother know that I met you, Mr. Baelish."

"Yes, do send her my regards, and do call me Petyr, please. Although I hope I will get to meet with your mother in person soon."

"Petyr works for our brother-in-law," Tyrion supplied, "he's the Chief Financial Officer at Baratheon Incorporated."

Sansa remembered something she'd heard in the news, and for a moment she became her father's daughter.

"So you're Mr. Baratheon's accountant," she began, "I heard rumors that Baratheon Incorporated is in some financial trouble, is there any truth to what's in the news?"

Tyrion and Jaime seemed surprised at her question. Petyr looked mildly amused.

"What rumors would they be?" Petyr asked, and Sansa sensed that he was humoring her, and this annoyed her.

"The rumors that there could be jobs lost, and that without my father's help, Mr. Baratheon's company would be in a lot of trouble."

Petyr regarded her with new eyes, and Tyrion gave him a nudge. "Answer her, she asked a valid question."

"You don't need to concern yourself with what you hear in the news, my dear." Petyr smiled at her again. "You're young, and shouldn't be worrying about these things."

"Perhaps, but it interests me," Sansa insisted.

"She means to have an answer, Baelish." Jaime grinned, enjoying the accountant's apparent discomfiture at being questioned by a teenage girl.

Petyr Baelish tilted his head slightly, and his eyes narrowed. "You're not at all what I expected of Catelyn Tully's daughter,"

Sansa didn't know where her boldness came from, but she disliked this Petyr Baelish, and his condescending tone was grating on her nerves.

"Don't forget." She smiled sweetly, eyes flashing. "I'm Eddard Stark's daughter, too."

Again, Tyrion and Jaime Lannister were brought to laughter once they had recovered from their shock.

"You are a gem, Sansa Stark!" Tyrion acknowledged. "If ever you decide to follow your father into business, I'd bet you'll be some force to reckon with."

Sansa never did get her answer from Petry Baelish. Joffrey found her at that moment, and took her by the arm.

"Come, Sansa," he said, "you don't want to be stuck with these boring uncles of mine."

"Let's hope we shall get another chance to speak with you again, Sansa," Jaime said, "Joffrey, don't you let this girl go."

Sansa nodded at them as Joffrey led her away, and headed towards the outdoor area overlooking the bay. Sandor Clegane was there, wearing tailored black pants and a dark grey shirt with black pinstripes that he wore with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing muscular forearms. He'd also left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and Sansa could see the hollow at the base of his neck. His hair, as usual, was combed over the burned side of his face, but he'd made some attempt to keep it tamed with some hair product. Sandor was the most casually dressed of the teenage boys there, including Joffrey, but to Sansa he was the one that was the most striking to look at. He'd given her a nod when she'd first seen him, but other than that he'd made no attempt to speak to her.

Myrcella and her friends soon joined them, and Sansa enjoyed the best part of the afternoon talking to her about what she was looking forward to the most about Dorne Academy.

"Meeting Trystane Martell!" Myrcella replied excitedly. "He's their resident prodigy, seventeen years old, with black hair and olive skin…!"

Sansa smiled and listened, completely unaware of the brooding, grey-eyed stare of her silent watcher.

Sandor

They'd finally bid farewell to Myrcella Baratheon, who had just been driven away in a limousine headed towards the airport accompanied Arys Oakhart, a member of Robert Baratheon's security team now re-assigned as Myrcella's bodyguard. Some of the guests had already left, but there were still a good many of them that weren't quite ready yet to part with the Baratheon's unlimited bar tab. It was while he was contemplating excusing himself to go home that he happened to notice Mr. Santagar, head of Robert Baratheon's security, and the manager of the restaurant approaching Robert's table. He observed the anxious expression on the manager's face as he spoke.

"I don't care…just get rid of them!" Robert snapped, waving them away.

Moments later, Sandor observed Jaime and Tyrion Lannister, along with Renly Baratheon approach Robert and his wife Cersei. Jaime leaned in and said something in Robert's ear. Robert was scowling when Jaime pulled back.

"So, call the fucking police if you want!" Robert hissed.

"You need to get your guests out of here now!" Jaime hissed back, his voice calm but urgent.

"Robert, listen to him," Cersei spoke up, "if anything should happen…"

"Stay out of it, woman!"

"You need to do something, Robert," Tyrion urged.

Robert looked at the dwarf a moment, before he nodded.

"Renly, go and tell the kids to come inside," he instructed his brother. "Jaime and Tyrion, come with me."

Robert stood up from the table and left the function room, followed by his brothers-in-law. Clearly, something was wrong. Sandor followed them into the main restaurant area, and through the panoramic glass windows at the front of the room, he immediately saw the problem. A crowd had begun to gather in the parking lot. Some of them were carrying placards and signs bearing the words 'SAVE OUR JOBS'.

This is bad, Sandor thought, realizing that the crowd outside were disgruntled Baratheon Incorporated employees. Sandor could hear a man's voice in the air, tinny and amplified as it was through a megaphone.

"…Answer us this question, Mr. Baratheon? How do you justify flaunting your wealth about with extravagant displays such as this party, knowing that you could be laying off hundreds of employees?"

There was a roar from the crowd at this, and the voice continued.

"Come out and speak to us, Mr. Baratheon! See the faces of the people who work for you! See the faces of the people who would lose their jobs and the means to support their families if you cut our jobs!"

The other restaurant patrons began to leave, at the urging of the restaurant staff.

We should be getting out of here as well. Why weren't the Baratheons organizing for them to leave?

"They're blocking the driveway exits," he heard one of Robert's security guys saying.

"But they're letting the other patrons pass," said someone else.

"Because they're only here for Robert," the first guy returned.

"Clegane." Sandor turned and found Renly motioning to him. "Get back in here and help me count heads."

Sandor followed as he was ordered. Some of Myrcella's friends were still present, and the fourteen year old girls were starting to look scared. He saw Tommen, who now sat with Cersei. He saw Joffrey pacing the floor…but there was no sign of Sansa.

"Has anyone seen my daughter?" asked a middle-aged woman.

"Calm down, Mrs. Stokeworth, we'll find your daughter," Renly answered the woman.

There were shouts now coming from outside, and everyone inside the room lifted their heads to listen. It was a picket-line war cry.

"What do we want?"

"Job security!"

"When do we want it?"

"Now!"

Sandor witnessed the man called Petyr Baelish storming after Robert Baratheon, and the two disappeared down the hall.

"…You must go out there and say something to these people, Robert!" Petyr was saying to him.

The chanting outside grew louder, and the voice on the megaphone began to lead the crowd in a new chant.

"One, two, three, four! We know what we're out here for!"

"Five, six, seven, eight! Come on Baratheon, play it straight!"

Tyrion Lannister came back into the room and did a quick survey of its occupants, before his eyes landed on his nephew.

"Joffrey," he called out to him, "where's Sansa?"

"I don't know," Joffrey replied, "she went for a walk in the gardens with some girl earlier."

"You need to find her," Tyrion said.

"Joffrey's not leaving this room," Cersei declared, "get Greenfield to find her."

Sandor could have throttled Joffrey's ice-blonde bitch of a mother.

"My daughter's missing! Has anyone seen her?" cried the woman, Mrs. Stokeworth.

Sandor swore under his breath. Sansa could be anywhere on the grounds, where a rapidly angering mob was still continuing to grow in numbers.

"Baratheon you're rich and rude, we don't like your attitude!"

"Lies and tricks will not divide, workers standing side by side!"

"They say cut back, we say fight back!"

Cersei stood up and walked towards the door, running into Robert and Petyr Baelish who were making their way in.

"How the hell did your workers union find out we were going to be here today?" she demanded angrily.

"I don't fucking know!" Robert replied just as angrily. "Now, I'm going outside to speak to them. I want you to get people ready to leave. When Jaime gives you the word, get our guests out of here!"

Sansa, where are you?

Sandor would find her himself.

As Robert headed towards the restaurant doors, where the agitated looking restaurant manager was waiting for him, Sandor made his way to a rear exit. He'd barely made it out the door when he heard the unmistakable sound of smashing glass.

And then people began shouting.

And then there was screaming…

"Santagar! Greenfield!" Jaime Lannister ran past. "Get Robert! It's turned into a riot!"

Sandor slipped out of the door just as another pane of glass was smashed to pieces. Evidently, Robert had said something that angered the protestors.

He was encouraged to see that the rear gardens were empty, and Sandor cut across flower beds in order to reach the path Sansa would most likely have taken. If she wasn't in the rose garden, he didn't know where else she would be, and he was taking a huge risk. His long strides ate up the path when he reached it, and he cursed when he realized just how expansive the gardens were, but he found her eventually. Sansa was on the other side of the garden hiding in the hedges, cut off from the exit by the rioting mob that had sprawled out onto the lawn. There was an older girl with her, and both of them looked scared.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

The noises and shouts from the parking lot were getting louder. The restaurant was being smashed up, and in the distance Sandor could hear sirens as well. The police had been called.

"Watch out!"

There were feminine screams across the garden, and Sandor saw that someone had fallen into the garden bed near Sansa and the other girl. If he didn't do something soon, they would get caught up in the riot. People were now picking up and throwing things in the direction of the restaurant, and at the people attempting to flee the scene. Adrenaline suddenly kicked into his veins, and Sandor found himself barreling through the mob. He was a linebacker for a reason, and he reached the hedge were Sansa was hiding, relatively unscathed.

"Sandor?" Sansa stared at him incredulously. "What's going on? Why are the protestors attacking?"

He shook his head, he didn't have time to answer her questions.

"We have to move," he growled at the two girls. "You both do as I tell you, got it?"

Sansa nodded, then tilted her head towards the girl with her. "This is Lollys Stokeworth."

He didn't fucking care who she was, so long as she did as he told her.

"We're going to head for the other side of the parking lot, and with any luck the Baratheon's will have cars ready," he barked at them, "when I tell you to run, you run, and you don't stop until you see the Baratheons or Lannisters!"

He grabbed both girls by an elbow, and he waited for the mob to stop heaving just enough so they could make a run for it.

"Now! Run!" He pulled them roughly with him, half leading, half dragging them along.

He felt hands grabbing at him, and he instinctively tried to use his massive bulk to shield Sansa and the Stokeworth girl. They were halfway through the crowd, when he heard a sharp scream and a tug on his arm.

He looked down and saw that Sansa had fallen…and there was blood on her face.

"Sansa!" he shouted, then he looked at the Stokeworth girl. "Run, you dumb half-wit! Run!"

The girl ran, but Sandor didn't check to see if she made it. His sole concern now was getting Sansa to safety. Hands were grabbing at him again, and at Sansa, and Sandor shoved and growled like a rabid dog.

"Get your hands off me!" he shouted.

Then he hauled Sansa against him, and used his other arm like a battering ram, fighting his way through the maddened crowd. He felt a sharp sting on his bicep as he collided with someone holding a placard, but he ignored the pain.

"CLEGANE!"

Sandor turned at the sound of his name and found Tyrion Lannister and Renly Baratheon waving at him from behind a dumpster.

"You found her!" Tyrion exclaimed in relief. "Let's go, Renly's car is just through there."

Sansa continued to clutch at him, her eyes wide with shock as Renly and Tyrion led them through another flower bed, and into a waiting car on the street beyond.

"Where's everyone else?" Sandor asked when Renly finally pulled away from the scene.

"Got out through the delivery dock," Tyrion replied from the front passenger seat.

"Nice of them to wait," Sandor remarked darkly.

Neither Tyrion or Renly replied.

"Where's Joffrey?"

"With his mother," Renly said, "Cersei insisted he stay with her."

Sandor didn't say what all three of them were thinking. Sansa didn't have to hear that no one had been sent to find her and make sure she was safe. Why had Renly and Tyrion stuck around?

"I saw you go through the rear door," Renly replied, as though sensing Sandor's thought. "I figured you'd gone after her."

How he'd figured that, Sandor didn't care to find out. He was just thankful that the guy had stayed behind. Of the dwarf, he couldn't speak for. In truth, he would have expected the dwarf to be among the first to flee, given his stumpy legs and all, but Tyrion Lannister had surprised him. The uncle that Joffrey always poked fun at had guts.

Sansa shifted against him. They were seated along the rear seat, and she refused to let go of the grip she had on his shirt. Sandor didn't want her anywhere but where she was currently, tucked under his arm…an arm that was bleeding. When did I get cut?

"Are you all right, my dear?" Tyrion directed the question at Sansa.

She nodded. "He…he rescued me."

Tyrion gave her a gentle smile, then shot Sandor a look. "Well done, Clegane."

I didn't do it for you, he thought, before he glanced down at his little bird.

Arya

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the name that popped up on the screen with some surprise before she answered the incoming call.

"Gendry…hello," she greeted him.

"Hey," he said, "are you busy? We need to talk."

"Okay," she said, "let's talk."

"In person," he sighed. "Can I come over?"

Arya sat up. Gendry wanted to come over.

"Sure,"

"I'll see you in twenty."

When he hung up, she rolled off her bed, where she'd been for most of Saturday afternoon listening to music and reading a magazine. She went to the bathroom, freshened up and dragged a brush through her hair. Then she looked down and found she was wearing pajama shorts and a faded t-shirt that had once belonged to Jon. Swearing, and feeling inexplicably nervous, she changed into jeans and a nicer tee before going downstairs to wait for Gendry to arrive. She hadn't spoken to him, or even seen him for longer than two seconds over the week, and she had a good idea about what he wanted to speak about. She couldn't believe how angrily Gendry had reacted to her date with Jaqen. She'd suspected that he wouldn't be happy about it, given that he had told her from that start that he didn't like Jaqen, but the outright hostility she'd sensed was unexpected, and entirely uncalled for.

Arya opened the door before Gendry had even got out of his car, and she greeted him with a careful smile.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he returned.

"Come in." She stepped aside and led him into the wide foyer of Chateau Maegor.

Gendry looked around him, noting the expensive looking décor, and the artworks on the walls.

"Nice place," he said.

Arya shrugged and led him into the currently uninhabited TV room.

"How've you been?" she asked him, sitting down on the couch.

"Busy. First heats of the competition are in less than a fortnight, and Beric's going absolutely mental," Gendry replied.

"That doesn't surprise me," she commented, then got down to business. "Gendry, you said you wanted to talk."

"Right, yeah." He fidgeted with his jeans, and Arya knew he was beyond nervous. "Arya, look. About what happened on Monday…I know I shouldn't have acted that way."

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed with him. "So, why did you act like a jerk?"

Gendry winced. "I guess…I guess I got caught by surprise by the Spyder's post."

"And?"

"I was angry that you didn't tell me the truth about…you and him."

It was Arya's turn to wince. "About that, yeah…I knew you wouldn't like it if I dated Jaqen."

"You knew that?"

"Well, yeah," she said, "you kept warning me to be careful and be wary of him, every chance you could."

Gendry made a face, remembering. "Okay, I guess I did."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for some moments, before Gendry asked her another question.

"How serious is it, between you two?"

Arya shrugged. "I don't know…it's only been one date, and he's busy preparing for the competition as well."

She and Jaqen had swapped text messages everyday during the week, but they'd had only one brief phone conversation, and it was just so Jaqen could apologize for his busy schedule and to assure her that he most definitely wanted to go on a second date.

"Could it get serious?"

"I don't know, Gendry." Arya sighed. "I'm new to dating, and you know that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Why are you so curious anyway?"

Gendry shifted in his chair again, and he seemed to be trying to find the right response, but he never got the chance to speak.

At that moment, they were interrupted by a loud banging on the front door.

Arya jumped up at the urgency behind the knocks. "I'd better get that,"

She'd only just pulled open the door when a giant bear of a man barreled through it, followed by a younger man who looked the spitting image of Gendry Waters – but it was the girl leaning on his arm that had her gasping.

"Sansa!" Arya cried in alarm.

"Ned!" the big man called out. "Ned, I need to talk to you!"

Arya recognized this man as Robert Baratheon. The younger man, Arya was startled to identify as Renly Baratheon.

At the sound of the Robert's bellows, both her mother and father rushed to the door.

"Oh, my God!" her mother cried, seeing the state that Sansa had arrived in.

"What the hell happened, Robert?" her father all but snarled.

Sansa's dress had spots of blood on it, her hair was disheveled and there was a bandage on her left temple.

What the fuck?

"Have you watched the news, Ned?" Robert asked. "If not, you need to watch it. It's on all the local channels, and it'll be nationwide shortly, if it isn't already."

The expression on her father's face grew dark.

"Cat, take Sansa upstairs now, and put her to bed. Arya, go find Bran and Rickon and tell them to go to their rooms."

Gendry chose that moment to walk out into the foyer as well, and there was a collective gasp from everyone but Ned. Arya, Robert and Catelyn stared back and forth between Gendry and Renly, while the two young men eyed each other warily.

Whoa! Arya's jaw dropped. She'd always thought Gendry reminded her of someone she'd met before, but seeing them side by side, their resemblance to each other was beyond uncanny.

Ned cleared his throat. "Gendry, I'm sorry to have to cut your visit short, but something has happened."

"I understand, sir." Gendry nodded, then looked to Arya. "I'll see you at school."

"Okay," she said, and mouthed sorry to him.

He gave her another nod, then let himself out of the already opened door. Robert and Renly stared after him.

"Catelyn," Ned said.

Catelyn immediately took charge of the silent, and apparently shaken Sansa and led her upstairs.

"Arya, please go and find your brothers."

Arya moved to obey, but as she exited the foyer, she overheard Renly Baratheon speak to his brother.

"So, it's true then?"

"You will keep your mouth shut, if you know what's good for you," Robert snarled.

"The resemblance is remarkable, don't you think?" Renly continued.

"Shut your trap, before I shut it for good!"

Arya heard nothing more, but after she'd herded her brothers up to their rooms, she found herself sitting in front of her computer pulling up Facebook photos of Gendry and Renly.

She sat there, looking at their photos side by side for a long time.