Chapter 6 (or the line is really long and your bladder is really small)
October 26th 2003 (or the weekend before 'that' Halloween)
Sweetart
"You have a lot of costumes," Sansa commented to her roommate. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon and the two (of the three) tenants of apartment 214 were planning their Halloween party next Friday. In her roommate's closet Sansa saw a silky pink dress with an exposed midriff, a police officer's uniform with a black latex skirt, a shimmering dress shaped like a fish tail with a matching bikini top, among several others. Each outfit appeared to reveal more skin than the last and they all accentuated a buxom figure.
"You have to spice it up every once in a while, ya know Sweetart?" Ros told her roommate she called 'Sweetart.' Sansa didn't know her choice of candy the day she moved in would determine the nickname she would have.
"I guess, I've just never enjoyed Halloween that much."
"But it's so much fun!" Ros exclaimed as she ran her hands along the dozen or so costumes hanging in her closet. "Every Halloween I get to be a different person for a night and each night is filled with amazing memories. The night I was a belly dancer and almost got frost bite. The night I was the little mermaid and got food poisoning from a fish fry. The time I was cop and was arrested for public urination."
"You got arrested for public urination?" Sansa asked with a laugh.
Ros' stories were probably the greatest part of having her as a roommate.
"Sometimes in life you reach a point when the line is really long and your bladder is really small. Besides, It's only a three hundred fine," Ros dismissed Sansa's concern with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, pissing in an alley isn't my favorite memory. My favorite is the time I was Raggedy Anne and hooked up with some guy in the bathroom of a bar."
"Some guy?" Sansa asked about that choice of words. "You don't know his name?"
"Well, I could call him Frodo, but I doubt that was his real name," Ros devilish told her with a wink.
"That is a lot of memories. I think you'll get along well with Arya."
"Why's that?"
"My sister is crazy about Halloween. It's her favorite holiday. She freaking loves to dress up. Once when she was a kid she went as a Ninja Turtle for Halloween"
"That's not to crazy..."
"She painted her entire body green," Sansa flatly informed her.
"Entire body huh?" Ros said with a impressed nod. "Hardcore. Puts me to shame. I'm going as the Wicked Witch and I'm going to only paint my face."
"Yeah," Sansa mumbled, deciding it was a good time to mention something about Ros' plan. "It took a months worth of showers to get the green tint out of her skin."
"Ohh, I hope that doesn't happen to me. I'd hate to show up to work on Monday with a slightly green face. People wouldn't tip the bartender with the green face."
Yeah, Ros, when guys come to your bar they look at your face. Not the show you put on with your wonderbra.
"Well, I'm excited to meet her if she enjoys Halloween as much as you say," Ros said brimming with excitement over the party. "You already have dibs on Dorothy, but do you think she'd be okay with being the cowardly lion or something?"
"Ohh, she already has a plan," Sansa told her with a laugh.
"Ohh, yeah that's right, didn't she do something crazy like dye her hair?"
"Yeah, she said the blonde wig looked fake so I'm going to bleach her hair this week."
"That is hardcore. I like it. What's her boyfriend coming as?"
"I'm not sure. He's working full time and doesn't enjoy the holiday nearly as much as Arya, but I'm sure he'll do something."
"Well, let them know we could probably scrounge up a tin man or something in a pinch if they wanted to join our little group. We could skip on down the yellow brick together to bar together. Maybe even win Whiskey Dick's costume contest."
Sansa deeply inhaled at her Roommates plan. Things had gone so well with Ros (even if she counted her other...reeking...half) that Sansa didn't want to have a big disagreement over the party.
"I know you and Theon want to go out, but I defiantly want to hang out here too. Arya and Gendry are awesome, but they are practically a boring married couple."
Not to mention with Gendry crushed from a new job, and Arya crushed from her last year at school, I promised them a quiet, relaxed night, and Margaritas.
"How long have they been dating again?" Ros asked.
"Forever basically. At least since Freshman year of high school."
"Geez," Ros said as she looked upon the costumes and memories that hung in her closet. "I could never do that, be with one person that long. It seems so...dull."
"It's sweet," Sansa disagreed. "They constantly bicker but they really love each other. Besides, you're with Theon now for how long? Two years? You two are serious aren't ya?"
At least I hope so. She better be at least somewhat serious about Theon considering how much I put up with. I will not clean out another three-day old pot filled with the petrified remnants of Mac N' Cheese.
"Oh, I guess we are. Sometimes...you know," Ros began to mumble, "You go out as Raggedy Ann and...you fuck a hobbit in a bathroom."
"No you didn't!?" Sansa said as she playfully shoved Ros. "You did that when you were with Theon?"
"It was during one of our 'off-again' periods. We fought about him checking out some girl's ass, or me checking out some guy's ass...or maybe me drunkenly checking out some girl's ass..." she rambled. "I know it involved an ass somehow..."
"Anyways," Sansa said to bring her roommate back to reality. "We can totally go out to the bars if they want to. But, I want to hang out here a little first. Entertain. Make some drinks. I've never done that. I lived in the dorms my whole time in college and never got to have people over to 'my apartment.'"
"Okay, we can hang out here for a bit," Ros relented, "but Theon will probably bitch about it."
"Well, you'll need to keep your monkey on a leash then," Sansa told her with a feisty smirk.
"Well...I could, but..." she said looking back one more time to her costumes, "the leash and whip go with another outfit I have. But, I guess the Wicked Witch could use it too."
October 31, 2003 (or that Halloween)
The Imp
Tyrion spent three years in law school at Marquette University. It was certainty a fine school, but it's academics weren't the only reason Tywin sent him there. His father took pleasure in sending him to a catholic, Jesuit university. Tywin probably thought just because the nuns failed to subdue his son when he sent Tyrion to Sunday school when he was a child didn't mean the nuns would fail this time. Not only would his son become a lawyer. His son would finally be molded into an upstanding member of society.
Fat fucking chance.
Marquette had a strict honor code stating that 'it shall be the mission of all students to foster personal and professional excellence, and to promote faith, family, and safe community.'
Why couldn't they just add, 'and every other Tuesday will be dollar shot night!'?
His stay at Marquette was fun and he made many friends, and colleagues, but few actually knew his name. He made it a point to never refer to himself as Tyrion except when it was necessary. He had another name that became legend over time. The name 'Tyrion Lannister' could be tracked down and brought to justice for all the deviant activities he did. The Imp could not be caught though. The Imp was a shadow, a phantom, the presence in the darkness of night.
Tyrion enjoyed being 'The Imp' more then he enjoyed being Tyrion. The Imp was a free spirit and did not care for the consequences. It was Tyrion's job to deal with the consequences. The Imp started bar fights just to see who'd win, bribe bouncers to let in cute girls under twenty-one he wanted to do terribly wonderful things to, and take a shit in the vice chancellor's car for giving him a look once. The Imp was Id Incarnate, it was chaos, it was a cauldron full of seething excitations, it was vortex that created nothing but pleasure.
It's exactly what Tyrion needed.
The Imp didn't come out to play as much anymore. Tyrion was busy at work and even when he cut loose he did it within reason. He was now a lawyer at a respected law firm, people knew who he was. The guise of The Imp served him far less now.
The Imp certainly meet Shae...which is why I'm currently in this situation because Tyrion would know well enough to fucking 'wrap it up' no matter what. Goddammit you are so fucking stupid Tyrion. Just relax...take another capsule of happiness...
There was a knock at Tyrion's door as he popped a pill, the sixth of the day, into his mouth. "Come in," he said, and his 'friend' entered.
"You have my stuff?" Tyrion shoot out quickly, before Bronn could even enter and close the door.
"You're in a feisty mood today. What got your panties in a bunch?"
"Not your concern." He sternly told him. "You got my stuff?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got your felonies worth of stuff right here. You got my money?"
Tyrion went into his top desk drawer and removed a small brown paper bag stuffed with three thousand dollars in cash. This was a lot, even for Tyrion, but if tonight was going to The Imp's true second coming, it'd be worth every penny.
"Here. Three Thousand dollars," Tyrion said as he nonchalantly plopped the brown bag on his desk. The Imp wanted to appear cool like he had three grand to burn and starving for what Bronn brought for him.
Bronn snapped the bag off the table and flipped Tyrion a zip lock baggie. In it was about two or three dozen pills and four sugar cubes.
"No tabs?"
"Nope," Bronn answered with a shrug. "You wanna trip tonight, you're doing it with those."
"I don't mind. As long as I gave you three grand for pills and acid, and not Tic-Tacs and bland sugar cubes."
"I guarantee you they're good. I had to find a new guy, but he's dependable."
"Good," Tyrion said with a nod. When he said nothing else to say to Bronn, the P.I. took the hint to leave.
"One thing," Bronn said before he stepped out of the office. "You're not going to do all those tonight...right?"
"Yes, of course I am," Tyrion sarcastically answered. "And after I take all of this I plan on drinking some Drain-o and gnawing on some fiberglass insulation."
"Sounds like a good night," Bronn groaned as he rolled his eyes. "You're not going out alone tonight are you?"
"No, I'm not."
"Good," Bronn said with a sigh of relief.
"What? Are you worried about me?"
"You die, I lose a third of my business."
"Your friendship means the world to me," Tyrion dryly said as Bronn left the room. A huge grin swept across Tyrion's face as his fumbled with the zip lock baggie.
Tonight Tyrion's problems don't matter. It doesn't matter that he hates his father, he's addicted to Xanex, or that he just knocked up a client. It's Halloween. It's a good time to not be Tyrion.
October 29th 2003
The Beautician
Light blond, extra light blonde, medium blonde, golden medium blonde...
Sansa found herself combing the aisle for the correct shade of blonde. Arya had told Sansa that she needed a more golden color to her hair because her bleached hair looked sickly. It was still bewildering to Sansa that she wouldn't just go with a wig but she was adamant on looking the part.
'It'll look fake and I'll look stupid. I am paying eighty bucks for this fucking costume! I might as well commit.'
Sansa still couldn't wrap her mind around it but that wasn't unusual for the things her sister did. Sansa continued to browse the hair dyes and was pained with indecision. Arya had asked Sansa to stop at Wal-Greens to get the hair dye before coming by. Sansa wanted her to come with, but her sister had just said, 'just get me something blonde and it'll be fine.' Arya obviously didn't know the complexity of this decision. The difference between extra light blonde and extra dark blonde was vast. And what if she hated the color? Their relationship had just taken a turn in the right direction and Sansa didn't want to screw it up by deforming her hair.
You are really over thinking it. You've been standing in this aisle for eight minutes now. Everything will be fine. Just pick a freaking blonde.
Sansa took a deep breath and picked the golden medium blonde. She had seen the Ads for 'Kill Bill' and it looked like the right shade.
Besides, Arya's the one that told you it wasn't a big deal.
Sansa was excited for the chance to play with Arya's hair. She spent her entire childhood pestering Arya to let her do something cute with her hair. To braid it, curl it, or put it in a bouffant. Do something besides put it back into a ponytail when it got long. Her sister had such gorgeous hair and it was a shame she didn't do that much with.
The elder Stark daughter did have plans for her sister's hair, but she had other plans as well. Sansa had an ulterior motive today, more important than hair. There was an elephant in the room that Arya and Sansa had not spoken of yet.
An elephant called my mother.
Ten minutes later her green sedan pulled into the surprisingly full parking lot of Hallow Hill apartment complex. It was mostly full of college students preparing for parties they would be holding in a few days. Sansa was understandably pensive when she told Arya about the Halloween party, but was happily surprised when Arya said she and Gendry would be swing by. In fairness, Arya did use that moment to ask Sansa to help in her hair project.
Like I wouldn't want to do this. I have been trying to do stuff with Arya's hair since I was six and she has always said no. That time I cut that gum out of her hair doesn't count.
Sansa was still shocked when Arya opened the door. Even though she was a vital part of bleaching Arya's hair, it was bizarre to she her sister as a blonde. She still had Arya's gray eyes, which looked dark blue in the afternoon sunlight, and Arya's face was still the same, but locks of bright yellow hair draped over face.
"Hi. Oh, so don't I forget," Arya said, handing Sansa some money for the dye as they walked into her and Gendry's place. It was a small apartment, smaller than the one Ros and Sansa shared. It was poorly lit and stuffy. However, Sansa was impressed at how clean Arya had kept the place based on their time being roommates together. It smelt of cinnamon air freshener and Sansa could tell Arya had vacuumed earlier in the day.
Either she vacuums before I come over or I happen to come over at the perfect time.
"Here it is," Sansa said as she handed over the dye, still nervous about the color of the dye, but excited to do something with Arya she was an expert in. Arya was smarter than she was and Sansa had accepted that, but it still bothered her when they would talk about stuff and Sansa barely had anything to say.
I'm still not sure who Kofi Annan is, or what the ACLU is. Note to self – Google those things when I get home.
Helping Arya with her hair would be different. This was her area of expertise and based on the fact Arya handed her a twenty for the hair dye that was six-fifty, she was the one with the all the knowledge.
"I wasn't sure what color to get."
"Blonde." Arya answered cocking her head back in the obviousness of her statement.
"Well, there are a lot of blondes. I got golden medium blonde." She said taking the box out of the plastic Wal-Greens bag.
Arya took the box out of her hand and inspected it. "Yeah, that looks right," she nodded, not appreciating the effort it took Sansa to pick that particular color.
"Okay," Arya began leading towards the bathroom. "I am wearing the same shitty shirt when you bleached me the other night and have the same towels we used. I got all the hair 'stuff' out again. And we still have latex gloves." She said tapping her foot for a ground in thought. "Anything else?" She pondered placing her yellow bangs behind her ears.
"I think we'll be good." Sansa said as they walked towards the bathroom. Sansa had to work at 4:30pm at Starbucks so she wanted to get started to make sure they had time to spare. Arya went into the bathroom and Sansa said, "Don't go in yet, I have to mix the dye first. And your bathroom isn't bad, but a bit small."
Arya popped back out and asked, "You have to mix it?"
"Yes," Sansa said, trying to hold back from rolling her eyes. She wasn't bothered so much by her sister's lack of knowledge in cosmetics but more that she already looked so beautiful. When she was young she remembered teasing her sister for her gangly facial features but over the last couple of years she had fully grown into them. She was already stunning, and didn't put in any effort, when just a small amount would make her gorgeous.
Then again I'm already freaking out seeing her blonde. If she started wearing make-up on a daily basis my head might explode.
They sat at the table as Sansa prepared the mix in a small plastic bowl Arya had given up to the dyeing process. "How's Harren's Hall?" Sansa asked.
"Still sucks." Arya answered. "How's Starbucks?"
"Okay." Sansa responded. "How's school?"
"Okay. How's looking for a teaching job?"
Sansa tilted her head a bit and said with a chuckle, "still sucks." Both girls laughed as Sansa finished the mix and they moved into the bathroom.
Arya sat on a kitchen chair on top of newspapers. Sansa wasn't sure the dye would stain the tile but she didn't want to be the reason they didn't get all of their security deposit back. Sansa combed through Arya's hair and separated it out into different sections. The dye came with a small brush which she placed into the container and used as she began to apply the substance.
"So who are you going as again?" Sansa asked as she worked.
Arya was about to answer but then paused. "Actually...you don't know her name in the movie. She is just known as The Bride."
"So...she doesn't have a name?"
"More or less," Arya said, bobbing her head. Clad in latex gloves, Sansa put her hands around Arya's head as a friendly reminder not to move around.
"Sorry," Arya said.
"And, The Bride, she has a list of people she wants to kill?" Sansa asked.
"Yes. And Bill is at the bottom."
"So, if I am remembering all the details right," Sansa said, painting the dye to her sister's hair, "you are going out as an assassin, with a death list, who has no known name."
"In a nutshell," Arya answered.
"Why couldn't you be someone a little less..." Sansa thought for a moment, wanting to pick the correct word, "murdery?"
"What fun would that be?" Arya said, and couldn't help herself from tilting her head as she spoke.
Sansa again placed Arya's head forward. "Well, why couldn't you be someone good?"
"Like who? And if you name anyone from a Disney movie I might have to strangle you."
"Not even Simba?"
"Okay, Simba fucking rocks," she admitted and continued, "but I don't want to be a furry. So think of someone else."
Sansa didn't know what a 'furry' and had a feeling she didn't want to know. "Let's see..." she said blanking for a moment and remembered someone her sister may like. "How about Princess Leia?"
At least sitting through those damn movies with Sandor has paid off.
Arya thought on it for a moment. "Maybe, but she had a thing for her brother. And they kissed."
"They were into each other weren't they?"
"Why should I be someone good?" Arya asked, changing the subject from intergalactic incest.
"Why be someone bad?"
"The Bride isn't bad. Not good either. You can't place her easily," Arya replied.
"And you like that?" Sansa asked.
"I do. You don't?" she said after a moment of thought.
"I guess I like the more classical hero. The brave knight who saves the princess," she said, getting to the last section of hair.
"I'd rather be the princess who takes care of herself." Sansa couldn't help but laugh at Arya's bold statement.
"What?" Arya asked.
"Yeah, totally, you don't have a Prince Charming to take care of you," Sansa said with an enviousness snort.
"Shut-up," Arya playfully jabbed back, and Sansa could tell she wanted to move her head, but didn't want to screw up the process.
"Anyways," Arya droned, "I guess I just like complicated characters."
"If it works for you," Sansa said, hoping there had been enough small talk to properly lubricate the next topic that would cause some friction.
Not to mention she can't run away right now without 'blonding' up the apartment.
"So, I have to ask...why haven't you asked more about mom?" She saw Arya straighten up in her chair and jerk her head upon heading the word "mom."
"Why? She's probably fine."
"She isn't," Sansa disagreed.
Wanting to change the topic back to her hair Arya asked, "How long do I need to keep this stuff in? I need to rinse, right?" Sansa did not answer and Arya looked to the mirror to face her sister. "You clever little cunt," Arya growled as she saw the smirk on her sister's lips.
"Name calling isn't nice. Tell me why you haven't called mom, or anyone else for that matter, and I will tell how you can avoid having your hair fall out."
"It won't fall out."
"You don't know that."
Arya stood up quickly and turned around to face her sister. Arya could look intimidating at times, but with her hair separated into four different sections and a white towel with golden splotches wrapped around her neck, she was hardly the furious Arya that Sansa had faced before. "Not fair," she said squinting her eyes. It was clear she was trying not to curse, because she knew that wouldn't help the situation.
"It isn't, but you haven't spoken to anyone, but me, since you moved out and I wanna know why."
"Because no one has called me!" Arya yelled, taking Sansa by surprise. "I don't know if they want to talk to me! Maybe they all think I'm a fucking slut like mom does."
"Mom doesn't think that. No one does", Sansa said, standing her ground, although there wasn't much ground in the small bathroom.
"Maybe they don't. But they have my number. What else should I think?"
"Well, you should think that the situation is fucked up," Sansa said, feeling profanity was apt at the time. "You were the first one to really disobey mom and dad. Mom feels like you abandoned her."
"What about dad?" Arya asked, and Sansa could tell the word 'abandoned' struck a nerve.
"I'm less sure. He is more quiet. I think he is just sad that it all happened."
"...And everyone else?"
"I would guess because I had the same feeling until you called me. It feels like you left the family and maybe want nothing to do with us."
"I did it to be with Gendry. And I didn't leave the family. I just moved out on my own," Arya said with defeated sigh.
"You should tell everyone that."
"I can't," Arya groaned, put her hands to her head, and rubbed her temples. "What if we're wrong and they all think I'm fucking whore?"
Sansa walked around the chair and knelt to face her sister. Arya looked up from her hands and was fighting back tears. She had grown so much, and was such a different person now. But some part of her was still the six-year-old who didn't want to cry in front of her sister.
"They won't think you're a whore." Sansa said, and without another thought added what she needed to, "besides you'd be a slut, not a whore. You're not getting paid."
Arya broke out in laughter and put her hand on Sansa's shoulder. "Actually, he's paying my phone bill right now," Arya chortled and Sansa joined in the giggling. "When did you get a dirty mouth?" Her sister asked raising her head to face Sansa.
"About the time I moved in with Ros, after rooming with you, and moving away from mom."
Sansa looked at her watch and realized the time. "I have to get going soon. Wait about ten minutes then go in the shower and rinse. Use cool water at first and don't stop until the water runs clear. Then use the conditioner that came with the dye," she finished, pointing the small bottle on the counter.
"Thanks for..."
"No, I am not finished," Sansa said cutting her off and Arya gave her a puzzled stare. "After you are done with all of that, call mom. Or Jon. Someone."
"What will happen if I don't?" Arya asked.
"Your hair will fall out," Sansa said with a wink, and Arya rolled her eyes. "They miss you Arya."
"Okay, okay. I'll give them a call tomorrow," she said.
"Promise?" Sansa asked.
"Yes, promise." Arya repeated.
"And you'll be at the party tomorrow at eight?"
"Looking forward to it."
"Really?"
"Yes, actually."
"What's Gendry going as?" Sansa asked.
"Probably nothing," Arya said with a disappointed sigh. "It kinda bugs me, I want him to dress up as something cool...but he's my sugar daddy, so I really can't complain."
"I'd hug you quick, but I don't want get my clothes all blonde," Sansa said.
"Hug me? Ew." Arya dryly responded.
It was Sansa's turn to roll her eyes as she exited the room. Before she could leave her sister called out "Sansa!" She turned back around and looked at her now-blonde sibling. "Thanks," she said in tiny voice.
"Of course," Sansa replied and thought for a moment and asked "why me?"
"Uh?" Arya answered.
"Why did you call me? You called me and didn't call the others, and then helped me move in with Ros. Why?"
"You helped me move out. You walked in front of mom and moved my stuff into a van that would take me to life of certain pre-martial sex. I knew you were on my side."
"We are all on your side." Sansa said reassuringly.
"I hope," she answered, talking a deep breath.
"We all love you Arya," Sansa said with a small smile.
"Ew," Arya said with a chuckle, returning the smile to Sansa.
October 31, 2003 (or that Halloween)
The Babysitter
"Don't go out with him tonight," Cersei ordered Jamie. The work day was winding down and his sister, in a silky red dress with gold trim, had berated her brother for the last ten minutes about his plans for the evening.
"He had a hard day, he wants to blow off some steam," he told his twin sister. It was a little after five and Jamie excepted Tyrion at any minute. His little brother usually wasn't punctual but Tyrion would most likely want his evening of debauchery to begin as soon as possible.
"Let him go blow himself on his own," Cersei said about her little brother.
If he could do that he probably wouldn't be in the predicament he currently is in.
"I'm sorry. I won't be able to make it to dinner tonight. You'll just have to entertain dad on your own," Jamie told Cersei for the third time.
"You promised me you wouldn't make me go through that again. I can't stand to be alone with him."
"None of us can stand to be alone with him. You'll be fine. You're his favorite."
"Are you fucking serious?" Cersei snapped at him. "The only reason he even stands me is because I look like you."
"I'm not the favorite," Jamie sternly told his sister.
"Yes, you are," she said with a smirk. "You always have been. Even if you don't admit it."
"I am not the favorite," Jamie angrily told her.
"I don't know why it bothers you," Cersei chuckled. "Being the favorite has its benefits. Dad overlooks all your short coming and cuts you the most slack. You don't have to deal with his constant barrage of bullshit, you don't get hounded to settle down and start a family. Last week he told me that I needed to just pick a man and get married or I'd never be able to give him any grandchildren because my 'parts would get old.'"
"You're parts would get old?" Jamie asked and nearly gagged on the word 'parts.' "Our father does have a way with words."
"He does and unless you come to dinner tonight I'll have to deal with it on my own. Maybe I won't even go."
"You have to go. Tyrion isn't going tonight, and now neither am I, if the three of us all bail we'll never hear the end of it."
"What's he going to do? Disown us? Fire us?" Cersei laughed. "It'd be great never have to speak to my father again about my 'parts.' And he could never fire me. I know where all the dirty laundry. I'm the one that cleaned it and tucked it away when the blood stains wouldn't come out. And you, you're the favorite. You'll never get fired. Only one of us could get fire and father hasn't gotten around to that quite yet."
There was a loud rapping on the door. "Come in," Jamie said, regretting the choice of putting Tyrion and Cersei in the same room at the same time.
Tyrion entered and looked like he was about to say something until he caught sight of his older sister sitting across from Jamie. "Jamie," he said with a nod to his brother. "Cunt," with a nod to his sister.
"Stumpy," Cersei greeted her brother with the same 'pet name' she had used since she was nine.
"Stumpy," Tyrion snorted. "We're adults, get a better name."
"Stumpy little shit?" Cersei asked. "Is that better?"
"Better. Why don't you go somewhere and think of other insults. Or maybe find someone on the staff you haven't fucked yet. Maybe the blonde Targaryen boy in the mail room. I don't our family has screwed over the Targaryens enough yet."
Jamie cringed at the name Targaryen and Cersei lazily laughed at her little brother as her eyes burned with fury. "Oh, Stumpy, you're so funny!" she exclaimed in a high pitched voice and glared at Tyrion.
"Just, get the fuck out of here," Tyrion groaned. "I don't fucking have time for your usual bullshit. We have a reservation for six and I want to keep it."
Cersei looked to Jamie once more, her green eyes, the same that Jamie had, pleading with him to save her from their father. Jamie just shrugged, guilty for picking on sibling over the other, but she'd be fine. She wasn't the favorite, but he hated her far less than he hated Tyrion.
"Fine," Cersei cold told them as she rose from the chair and straightened out the red skirt she was wearing. "You two boys have a gay old time tonight."
"And you have fun being the Targaryen boy's jizz bucket," Tyrion spat as she exited the room.
"Will you two ever just behave?" Jamie asked wearily, tired of watching this fight over, and over, and over again.
"No. She thinks I killed her mother. And I think she's a total twat. I'm a snake and she's a mongoose...who is also a total twat."
Jamie just rolled his eyes and together they headed for dinner.
October 31, 2003 (or that Halloween)
Mother Stark
The house was eerily and painfully quiet. Cat didn't like the quiet. She wasn't used to the quiet. She was used to Jon and Rob arguing about what movie to go see or who would get the car that night. Ned and the boys screaming at the television about whichever game they were watching. Arya and Sansa endlessly bickering about time in the bathroom or the volume of the music Sansa played.
It was all quiet now. None of them were there now.
It was just Cat now, sitting alone in her house late afternoon, sipping some red wine. It was a habit she had picked up recently and had tried her best to keep from her husband. Grocery shopping without him and doing the dishes before he got home greatly aided her rouse. The wine was cool and sweet against her lips as she sat in silence thinking. Just thinking. She did a lot of that now.
Thinking about Rob following his father's footsteps and working for an insurance company in Milwaukee. Jon, who had moved to Canada to follow his career in earth science. Bran, her little Bran, who had moved out to coast to go to school. Cat was so proud when her son was admitted to Princeton but now she wished she had told him they wouldn't be able to afford it. She had only talked to her son once in the last three weeks and it was possible he wouldn't be able to make it home for Thanksgiving. And if Bran didn't make it home for Thanksgiving then that meant two of her children wouldn't be attending.
Cat took a large sip from her glass and got a refill.
Arya moved out almost five months ago and Cat had not talked to her daughter since then. Arya had not reached out to anyone in the family. Cat didn't know if Arya was okay, if she was making ends meet, how school was going. She was totally in the dark of her youngest daughter's life.
Cat took another large sip.
Well, some of that wasn't true. Arya had reached out to Sansa when her eldest daughter decided to join her little sister in Madison. When Cat asked how Arya was doing she vaguely said 'she's okay.' Sansa was keeping in her in the dark now. Sansa had joined Arya in Madison and maybe she wouldn't even be down for Thanksgiving. They had all left her. Some for work, some for school, and Arya for a boy.
A boy. A Baratheon. Gendry didn't seemed much like Robert but Cat never trusted him all the same. She cursed Ned for introducing Arya to the Baratheon family. Robert was a drunken bastard and Cat didn't want that fate for her daughter. If the son was even a little bit like the father her little Arya would be destroyed. She wouldn't let that happen to her daughter.
But, she could do nothing. She was alone in the quiet dark. She couldn't protect her daughter if she never saw her, or even spoke to her.
There was a ring on the telephone. Cat staggered to her feet and answered the phone.
"Hello?" she said to no response. She could hear someone on the other breathing. "Hello?" she asked again.
"Hi...mom..." a familiar voice said. It was Arya.
"Hi..." was all Cat could stammer. "...Arya. How are you?"
"I'm good," Arya rigidly said. "How are you?"
"I'm doing well. Your father should be home soon. I think going to make some chicken wings tonight. I can start dinner so much later nowadays," she wistfully said.
"You have five less mouths to fill," her youngest daughter said with a little chuckle. "You just have to take care of Dad. And I'm sure he can figure out how to make a hot pocket if push comes to shove."
"Oh, I wouldn't make your father eat a hot pocket." Cat told her daughter and heard her sigh. Cat wasn't sure what to say and in the moment was gripped by sadness realizing she had lost the ability to speak to her youngest daughter. Without anything else to say, Cat asked what she always asked when Arya didn't want to talk at the dinner table. "How's school?"
"Ohh, it's okay. Same old. Well, I got elected the secretary of the United Nations Student Organization."
"What's that?" Cat asked.
"Well...it's a club where we discuss and learn about the UN. It's fun. Actually, in March I'm going to New York as part of the United Nations Student Conference."
"Really?" Cat asked and heard her own voice perk up.
"Yeah, we'll go there for a week. We'll represent the country of Columbia in mock committees and stuff like that. I'll even get to go into the UN building and go in the general assembly room."
"That's sounds like an amazing opportunity honey," Cat said and took a deep breath. "It's so good to hear from you."
"It's good to hear you to," Arya told her mother. "How's dad doing?"
"He doing good. He'll be home soon. He'll want to talk to you."
"That'd be nice," Arya said and there was another silence. Arya said nothing. She was waiting for Cat to say something first.
She wants me to ask about him.
"...how's Gendry?" she asked her daughter.
"He's doing great," she said and Cat could hear her voice relax. "He really likes his new job and he's pretty good at it."
"What does he do again?" Cat asked.
"He's a graphic designer for an ad agency. He's pretty low-level now, but he's making it work," she happily told her mother.
"That's good to hear. He does that full time?" Cat asked hoping to hear that she wasn't supporting a freeloading Baratheon like Ned once did with Robert.
"Oh yeah, he works full time. Has benefits and everything," Arya proudly told her.
"That's good," Cat told her daughter, thinking it best to change the topic, not trusting herself to talk about him. "Have you talked to your brothers and Sansa lately?"
"I just got off the phone with Jon. I was going to give the rest of them a call this weekend...well, except Sansa. I see her all the time," she said with a chuckle at the notion of spending time with her sister. "I'm actually going to her Halloween party tomorrow night."
Sansa's having a party? She didn't mention that...I wonder what her roommate is making her do.
Cat and Arya talked for a few more minutes about Sansa's party and other things. Cat went on about what her sister Lysa was up to and Arya sat quietly and listened. Cat was afraid she wasn't even listening when she asked her daughter, "will you make it down for Thanksgiving?"
"Umm, sure," Arya said with a slight slur in her voice.
Is she drinking? Is he driving her to drink?
"We were planning on coming down and seeing Willow and Eddie. We already promised to have lunch with them. But, we can come over for a bit," her little Arya informed her mother.
We? They're a we?
"A bit?" Cat asked.
"Yeah," Arya said with a sigh, "Gendry has work the day after Thanksgiving and so do I. So, we were going to leave Wednesday night and come back Thursday night."
"Well-l-l-l," Cat said slowly, "Sansa is coming down Wednesday night if you wanted to come down with her. I'm sure you could get a ride back to Madison on Thursday."
"No, I'll come down with Gendry. I told Gendry's mom we'd see her and I'm not going to break that promise."
"Arya, you should really spend thanksgiving with family," Cat told her young daughter.
"I am. Mother. I'm just saying we already made plans. It's important to us to see you, but we also want to see Gendry's family."
Cat had heard just about enough of this nonsense. "Arya, you haven't been home in over five months. You need to see your family. Gendry isn't your family!
"Yes he is! He's more family than you've ever been. He fucking loves me for who I am! And doesn't constantly try to change me!"
"Don't say that! We all love you. I love you!"
"Well, that's fucking nice to know. You love me. When you aren't disappointed in me, or trying to control me, you love me. How fucking great!"
"Stop swearing young lady!"
Cat could hear Arya's jaw clench and her teeth grit in rage. "I thought I made it clear last time. I'm not a child anymore Caitlin. I'm an adult and I make my own decisions. I made the decision to move in with Gendry. I made the decision to call you. Which I now know was a mistake! So, I've just made another decision, I'm done talking to you and you will not be seeing us for Thanksgiving!"
"But, Arya," Cat tried to reason with her daughter but was met with silence. There was a click and the line went dead.
AN:
Sorry about the delay in this chapter. A minor case of writer's block, and sub-zero temperatures delayed this. It was so cold I couldn't freaking write in my heated apartment. That's messed up.
A recent review asked "why doesn't Tyrion have dwarfism in this story?" When I started writing I thought about 'giving' Tyrion dwarfism but felt uncomfortable about. This story, although at times with outrageous characters and circumstances, is very much rooted in reality. Not to spoil my story, but if you haven't noticed Tyrion is addicted to Xanex. At some point he is going to deal with that in a very real way. Shae's pregnancy is the same way. She's going to have [son's name redacted for spoilers] and Tyrion is going to be a father. All of that will be dealt with in a way that I think is grounded in reality to our world (with hilarious, sad, and at times touching outcomes.) Anyways, I didn't feel like I had the life experience to write realistically what it is like to be a dwarf. It isn't just being short – people with dwarfism suffer from numerous secondary diseases , face prejudice, and so on. I didn't want to do a poor job on that so I just made Tyrion a rather short dude.
Just to be clear, Jamie and Cersei aren't a thing, at least not a sexual thing. This is again me trying to root stuff in reality. In south central Wisconsin there isn't that much incest. I admit the same is true(ish) for Westros, but I didn't want to touch that. Although I do admit of all the ships in ASOIF Jamie and Cersei actually love each other and seem to have a decent relationship (before she goes batshit paranoid in book four, but let's not focus on that part.) If you are a "Misfits" fan I hinted towards where Jamie's story would go in my AN for chapter 22 (Calm - Part 2...Holy shit, my other story has thirty fucking chapters and I still have so much shit to get though. Seriously, at least 10-15 more chapters in the story.)
Sorry for any typos - my beta is currently fighting a cold. Actually, if she wasn't sick this would have gone up yesterday...I may or may not live with this person.
Next time – We flash forward again to Tyrion and Sansa's first date and unplanned first time. Tyrion reads from his favorite book series – A Ballad of Hot and Cold Things. The Imp arrives at Whiskey Dick's where he meets the hound, the bride, and the bull. Ohh yeah, and a couple of our characters will drop acid.