Chapter 1

"Sansa!"

Arya's voice rang through the house, chasing the footsteps running upstairs. It was closely followed by the slamming of a door.

"Sansa, will you please open the door! I didn't mean it like that! You know I didn't!"

"Go away, Arya!"

"Eugh!"

The walls shook as a second door slammed. Something crashed and something else thumped to the ground.

The two boys still sat on the sofa downstairs looked at each other, both trying to look calm and in control and both failing miserably. Robb patted the arms of his chair, breathing deeply. His face was still flushed red and his jaw tight. He opened his mouth to speak, but his cousin was there first.

"No, Robb."

"But they need us!" His hands slammed down onto the arms of the chair, only just missing the twitching tale of his hound, Grey Wind who was sat curled but attentive on his lap. The animal curled into a tighter ball, but his ears were still raised, awaiting the threat to his master.

Jon by contrast hadn't moved more than the few facial muscles needed to scowl. He watched as his cousin expressed himself through flailing limbs. He eventually ended with hands tangled in his hair, turning his usually sleek red mop into something far more like their youngest brother's tangled mane.

"Are you done?" Jon wasn't smiling, but he might as well have been, the look he was giving. Robb scowled at him.

"No." He kicked out at the cushion near his feet, still sitting where it had landed earlier. Sansa's temper may have been sharp, but at least she had the good sense to throw something soft.

Jon took a deep breath of his own. He was normally the quiet one of the two, and had been silent for the past few minutes, but Robb would go bounding into the middle of things if he didn't speak up now.

"Leave her be, you know how Sansa gets," Robb looked like he wanted to interject so he carried on quickly, "She needs time to stew before she listens to sense."

"But she isn't listening to sense, that's the problem!"

Grey Wind jumped a little at the outburst, but Robb didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on the stairs behind Jon. They could hear music coming from Sansa's room now, a sure sign that she was upset, and in all likelihood, crying into a pillow. Jon glanced upwards as well, before smiling sadly at Robb.

"And shouting at her isn't going to do much."

Robb scoffed and kicked at the cushion again. Scowling, he muttered, "I wasn't going to shout at her."

"Just tell her that she is a fool, and does need to grow up? Come on, I thought she was going to punch Arya when she said that."

Jon's lips were twitching into a smile, but Robb's frown just deepened.

"We have to do something."

"Yes, we can be reasonable people, and let Sansa come to her sense on her own."

Robb's hands were fists now, "But what if it takes too long? What if that little twat does something awful before that happens?"

Jon didn't reply. He tried not to say too much where Sansa's boyfriend was concerned. The younger boy had not exactly been welcomed into the Stark family. With his smug face and indifference to Sansa, they had been reluctant to make a space for him at the table, a source of great grief for Sansa who saw nothing wrong in her detached beau.
The source of the trouble that evening had been Arya asking about Prom. Joffrey hadn't asked yet, and Sansa couldn't be more on edge about it. A few more typical stumbling comments and Arya had Sansa screaming at her.

Robb looked at his cousin. They were more than a little used to the girls fighting, and when they did it happened quicker than lightning, but usually they made up just as quickly. The music still thumped above.

"What we really need is to show Sansa just how awful Joffrey is."

"And what? Have her bite our heads off? Arya didn't say two words before Sansa was started shouting."

"No, not tell her, show her." Robb was smiling now, one hand calming running across Grey Wind's fur. Jon frowned. More than once he had followed one of Robb's ridiculous plans only to end up with nothing but wisdom to show for it.

"What are you thinking?"

"Well, half the reason she's so enamoured with Joffrey is because he's a boy who has shown her some affection, right?"

"That's a bit of patronising, but sure."

"So what if someone else showed some interest, someone better?"

"This is starting to stray into meddling territory."

"Come on, Jon, we have to accept that to properly help Sansa we can't stand at the sidelines, we have to fully dive into meddling and sort this out."

"By finding her a new boyfriend?"

"Yes. Someone better, someone who isn't a complete toad, but is totally in love with her and also a good guy."

"And how are we going to conjure up someone like that?"

"Who says we need to conjure. I'm thinking more persuade."

Jon let out a groan and rolled his head back against the sofa cushions, "This is going to get complicated."

"Sure," Robb shrugged, grinning, "but it'll be for the good of everyone."

Jon didn't reply, he was too busy rolling his eyes. Robb always loved to be dramatic.

"So, do I have your approval to go ahead and meddle?" he set his cousin with a hard stare, pretending that all he needed was his approval.

"Fuck it, why not?"

He punched the air in victory

"What do you want me to do?"

Robb grinned.

"You know, this might be the most predatory thing we've ever done. Including when dad took us hunting last year." Jon mumbled into his lunch-tray. Robb had grabbed him before he could head to his usual table and pulled him over to the table nearest the door. The red plastic was less scratched, and there were fewer ominous stains, but every few seconds the door opened and a cold wind blew over them. Jon's curly fries had gone stone cold minutes after sitting down. He scowled down at the congealed basket of starch.

"Shush," Robb waved a hand at him, staring out across the hall. He hadn't said explicitly why he had dragged Jon away from his friends and onto the table of eternal winter, but the intensity of his gaze could only mean one thing.

Stage 1.

"Any possibilities catching your eye?"

"What's the criteria?"

Robb whispered, and Jon responded in kind. Even with the cafeteria at its loudest mid-lunch-rush they still didn't feel like they should speak too loudly. Perhaps it was the

"Decent," Robb said after a lengthy pause, "Not an idiot, not a known creep, relatively mature" he considered for a second, scanning the room. Jon mentally eliminated about half of the males in the room, "Doing okay academically, can carry a conversation."

"High bar."

"Look, we're not picking her soulmate, we're just looking for someone interesting enough to turn her head to better things, okay?"

Jon sighed, but nodded. He wasn't as sold out on the plan as Robb was, but he could at least see the logic. Introduce Sansa to someone half-decent, give her a confidence boost, and while she's distracted do some big brother voodoo to scare off Joffrey. It should have been easy, but this was day two of trying to choose someone to throw in their sister's path. Surprisingly, nonchalantly dropping her into conversation with their single friends hadn't paid off. (Or at least Robb had been surprised, Jon had had no faith in that plan at all. He wouldn't have said he had much faith in this one either, though.)

Robb tossed the first name in the ring,

"Olly?"

Jon laughed before he turned to look at Robb and realised he wasn't joking. He shook his head, incredulous, "Olly the freshman? Olly who skipped ninth grade? Thirteen year old Olly?" Sometimes Jon had no idea what was going on behind those curls.

"Hm, good point." Robb nodded. "What about your friend, er, the one with the acne?"

Jon followed Robb's gaze to his usual table. Gren was in the middle of telling the others a story, no doubt some exaggerated nonsense about he didn't fully believe himself.

"He's decent but there's no way Sansa'd put up with his bullshit. I thought you wanted someone pretty, someone to 'turn her head'. Hey, Ned Dayne?" He nodded towards the captain of the junior lacrosse team.

"Little Ned Dayne who can't keep his eyes to himself? No he spends enough time hanging around Arya, I don't want to invite him anywhere nearer to her than he has to be."

They watched as little Ned Dayne waved at their youngest sister with a massive grin on his face, Arya was tucked into the corner of the room on a full table made up of people Jon didn't recognise. She glanced at Ned and gave him a quick 'sup' nod before going back to pretending to listen to the boy in front of her. Jon could see the vacant glaze from across the room.

"Arya doesn't mind him though, and that could be a good incentive to him too; play nice for this and get in her good books." Jon was still watching Arya's friend jiggle his way through his story. He seemed unaware that his audience of one was not paying the slightest bit of attention.

"This isn't a joke, Jon." Robb snapped. His glower was so reminiscent of his father's Jon smile slipped off his face quicker than Bran slipped out of awkward conversations.

"This is hopeless," Robb grumbled, "Maybe we should just ask Theon."

"Do you want me to kick you in the balls now, save Sansa doing it for you in a week?"

"Well who else is there?" Robb sighed, reaching across to take one of Jon's remaining curly fries, his own tray sitting empty. He bit into it and pulled a face, "these are disgusting. You'd think for all the money the parents give to this place they'd work out how to cook a half-decent plate of fries."

"Hey," Jon turned suddenly, "what about that scholarship kid?"

"There are no scholarships here, Jon," Robb deadpanned, "just 'underprivileged children with generous benefactors'."

Jon rolled his eyes, "Well what about that underprivileged kid on the football team? The line-backer." He nodded to the boy in question, only now queueing up for food.

"Waters? He is a sophomore, and he's never been anything but civilised when I've spoken to him."

"He's a good guy, remember when he took that hit for Pyp last month? Could have gotten hurt pretty bad."

"Yeah, okay. As best of a bad lot goes, he doesn't seem too awful."

"I'm sure your sister will be thrilled with that assessment."

Robb looked for a second like his conviction was faltering. Then he slapped a hand on the table, "No, he's a fine pick. Good work. Now how are we going to do this?"

"Any plans for the weekend?"

Gendry jumped at the question, his grip on the towel tightening. As a rule, the post-practice locker-room was reserved for a few slaps on the butt and maybe an insecure joke or two. It was not the place for casual conversation.
But, he supposed, this was not a casual conversation.
Gendry had been casual friends with Jon long enough to see how his family worked. At home they seemed to be a tangle of boisterous competition, but at school they were more distant, giving each other enough space so they didn't become just one Stark blob. Even when playing on the same team, Jon and Robb had managed to keep a bit of a distance. But if seeing two Starks in one place was rare enough, seeing them on either side you was downright unnerving.
Jon was looking at Gendry inquisitively. He was fully dressed by now, wet hair slicked back, not a trace of the mud and sweat that had smothered him less than ten minutes ago. Robb on the other hand – and Gendry's other side – was still stinking to high heaven.

"Uh- I – er-" Gendry stammered, unsure of what they wanted to hear, "some plans, maybe, not sure."

"So nothing set in stone? Good." Robb nodded. Gendry blinked as some mud flicked off the end of those red glossy locks. He just hoped it hadn't landed on his face.

"Why's that?" Gendry asked, looking between the two boys. He tugged at his towel a little, pulling it higher just to reassure himself nothing bad was about to happen.

"Well," Jon began, throwing a quick look to Robb who looked eager to speak, "We were wondering if you could help us with something."

"Like homework or something?"

"Not exactly." Jon leant forward and Gendry got a good whiff of his deodorant. It was a little more flowery than he would have expected. "Look, if you're free tomorrow do you mind meeting us at the mall? We'll explain properly there, it's just there's maybe one too many waiting ears around here." He nodded to the bench on the other side of the room where the Seconds were peeling their stinking kit off. Other than them it was just the water boy, Sam, stacking knee pads in a box for the supply cupboard.
But Robb was frowning too now, and they were both looking at him so intently that it could only be a matter of the utmost secrecy. Gendry nodded,

"Yeah, tomorrow's fine."

"Excellent. Ten o'clock, Taco Bell. See you there."