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Chapter 2

Catelyn POV

It looks like any other picture-perfect view of five brothers and sisters eating breakfast together, awaiting a new school year. It's only when you look closer that you see it's a little more complicated.

Robb doesn't look like he's at all over the events of last night, and in all honesty, you really can't blame him. Everything he does looks perfectly ordinary at a glance, but at a closer look, his every action seems a little…off. He does eat the pancakes and bacon stacked on his plate, despite his sleepy-voiced statement of "I'm not hungry" earlier, but he eats each item one by one, systematically, like the food is simply a tool for preventing starvation, not something to enjoy. His appearance also looks normal from a distance, but closer up you can see the wrinkles in his white T-shirt, as if he has settled for an old shirt rather than rifling through his drawers for a cleaner one, and you can somehow see how our discussion last night has taken his innocence in the way his brown curls, previously a sort of artful mess, now droop around his face.

His final year at school shouldn't have to start this way.

I worry about how the others will take the truth when it comes out – that's if it is the truth. From my position washing the breakfast bowls on the other side of the kitchen, I look at them one by one. Sansa peacefully stares out of the French windows onto the garden, wearing a thin, sleeveless sundress with a few summer flowers braided into her hair, taking advantage of the last remnants of August's heat. Her current pose represents her entire nature – she's a daydreamer, which seems to have led her to poetry, judging by the torn-out pages from her notebook I found in her room earlier this summer. I'm worried though, that the dark side of her personality is that she is too impressionable, which won't work in her favour around manipulative types like Joffrey at school, or any of the Lannister family.

Arya is probably Sansa's polar opposite. A year ago, she persuaded Ned and me into allowing her to get a pixie cut which, although it has grown out a little, still gives her an image of fierceness. And it's a truthful image. She's probably the loudest in our family, the most stubborn and argumentative, but this probably translates into a fierce loyalty towards the things she loves. But arguing too hard will only provoke the Lannisters. And then there's Bran, and Rickon. The two youngest siblings, still in Iron Throne Junior, but possibly two of the most intelligent. They're quiet, but it's not Sansa's dreamy quietness. It's more of a shrewd sort of quietness, as if they're always reading between the lines of what people say and do. It's a strange thought, but I think the two of them may take the information better than the others; Robb has become stressed, Sansa will panic, Arya will fight against people stronger than her. But Bran or Rickon may just find out the truth, and protect the family.

Today's school day should be interesting.

Robb POV

"I have to meet Jon, he said he'd give me a ride in today, see you all later!" I yell from the front porch steps, and walk out into the warm but crisp early September air. The story about Jon giving me a lift is true, but on a normal day, I would give Sansa and Arya the chance to take the free ride with me. But today, I cannot handle being around them when I know so much more about our situation than they do. So the real reason I left before them is to be alone. At least for the walk up to Jon's house.

I pat my ash-coloured husky dog, Grey Wind, on the head, and walk off. Our street, Winterfell Avenue, is usually imposing in appearance, but looking up the street from this angle, it looks oddly beautiful. Squat, granite buildings, large, but not frighteningly large, with French windows and small verandas at the front; it's cosy, like somewhere you'd want a large family like ours to live, but not unsurprising like some suburban areas are – instead, the granite and the size of the buildings makes the street look dramatic.

The walk to the northern end of Winterfell Avenue goes by in a blur, the way journeys always do when you have things to think about. Soon enough, I see Jon's car, and he rolls his window down.

"Hey!" he shouts, fairly enthusiastically, but he sobers up when he sees the look of pensive worry on my face. I can hear his husky, Ghost's, panting in the back seat die down with Jon's happiness.

"Hey," I say, pulling myself into the passenger seat, trying to mask over the awkwardness.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your father." He says hesitantly.

"He was your father too." I reply, my brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, I'm grieving too, but it has to be worse for you. There was always some distance between me and him, that there never was with you."

I am silent at this, thinking about Jon's past. He and I are half-brothers, him being the child of a short relationship my father had a year or two before he met my mother. He grew up with me and the others, but I always sensed some hostility towards him from my mother, and while my father was somewhat kinder, I think some of the hostility spread. So as soon as he could, which was about three years ago, Jon left school and home, stayed with some friends until he got a steady enough job as a security guard, and gradually earned enough for an apartment in the north of the city and the second-hand car we're in now, and also developed a new identity: no longer Jon Stark, but Jon Snow. Him giving up our prestigious surname should offend me, but he's probably better off for it, especially with the whole feud with the Lannisters going on.

"You okay?" He asks, concerned. I must have paled thinking about the Lannisters. I shrug, pretending it's just the annual back-to-school nerves; now isn't the time or place to tell him about my father's possible murder – my other brothers and sisters don't even know yet, and we're almost at school anyway.

"You can do this, Robb. We're both Starks, even if I no longer bear your name. Starks are brave. Starks can handle school even if their fathers have died." His voice cracks a little at this, but he covers it up. "Everyone in your family says this, so it probably means nothing to you, but you can be successful, like the other Starks before you. You can. And this year is your chance to show it." He pats me on the shoulder. I sigh in relief. He thinks it's only school nerves, which it actually was before my mother's little discussion last night. My act worked.

I say it's only school nerves, but as I approach the gates I've seen every year since I was eleven years old, with the iron swords from the school's crest acting as bars, there is a fear that comes with it. But not really of school, more of the people in it. Especially the Lannisters.

A/N: Yeah, I know I changed Jon Snow's back-story quite a lot, but if you think about it, his story is kind of hard to adapt into the modern-day, and what I came up with works better with the rough story idea I've written so far. Anyway, hope you're enjoying it so far! Would still love to hear what you all think!