Crack!fic: Westeros High (1/?)
Title: Westeros High
Rating: PG
Characters: Stannis, Davos, Sansa, Sandor, assorted others
Word Count: 2,537
Summary: Basically this is ASoIaF as a high school - or rather, as a teen movie version of a high school.
Note: The ASoIaF cast is way too huge so I've had to ignore a lot of characters and focus on my favorites. This fic is going to focus on Sansa's story and Jaime's story. Because the most fun ships are cross-gen(a 15yr age difference for Sansa/Sandor and a 13yr difference for Jaime/Brienne from my count), everyone's approximately the same age here. It is crack!fic, after all.
Vice Principal Stannis Baratheon surveyed the cafeteria of Westeros High School. It was crowded and noisy and the aroma of cheap pizza mixed most unpleasantly with the suffocating scents worn by the student body. It was a normal day - even a good one by the standards currently employed, unfortunately.
At the last school board meeting Stannis had proposed instituting school uniforms, banning cell phones and Ipods, and segregating lunch periods by sex. All of his proposals had been rejected, and it rankled him that Ned Stark had been the only one to support him besides. This school was a cesspool, but Stannis never considered leaving. In fact, he hoped to be principal some day. When he was principal, things would change.
Definitely starting with a school uniform, he thought, as he watched Cersei Lannister uncomfortably. Cersei was the captain of the cheerleading squad and she looked the part. She wore her cheerleading uniform today, and surely it was not his imagination that the skirt appeared much shorter than it had been last year and the sweater tighter and lower cut. Perhaps Cersei was trying to regain the attention of those admirers who'd flocked to Margaery Tyrell.
Margaery and her brother Loras were new to Westeros High School, having moved to the town over the summer. Though Margaery was only a sophomore and Loras a junior, the pair had usurped the popularity of Cersei and her brother Jaime. People who watched Loras play pick-up games of football before school or during free periods said he was as good a quarterback if not better than Jaime Lannister.
Not that Jaime would be playing football again; not with that knee injury. Tywin Lannister had taken his son to the best doctors in the country (costing him valuable school time, but Stannis had been overruled when he proposed putting Jaime back a year to make up the work) and none had been able to do what Tywin wanted.
Jaime sat by himself at the end of a table, staring at his sister's table. He was glowering as she laughed and flirted with the group of boys surrounding her. Stannis had always thought there was something not quite right with those two. Despite his good looks and popularity, Jaime never dated. His twin sister Cersei was the only girl Stannis had ever seen him with. The students whispered that he was gay, but Renly (Stannis gritted his teeth at the thought of his much younger brother) insisted he wasn't and Renly would know.
Renly was surrounded by his own group of admirers, boys and girls both. Whereas the Lannisters drew the All American football and cheerleading types, Renly's circle was comprised of the art and theatre people, the weirdos constantly painting all the walls whether or not they had permission. Some of the boys had hair as long as a girl's and some of the girls dressed like boys, like that Brienne Tarth, who was as big as a football player to begin with. That group offended Stannis's sensibilities, but they were mostly harmless.
The real trouble was Gregor Clegane, the school's star linebacker. His gang of hooligans was responsible for assaulting students for their money and their latest electronic toys (though Gregor was not poor and his father worked for Lannister Corp; he just seemed to enjoy taking things by force) or simply for "dissing" them by looking at them wrong. Davos also told Stannis that many girls warned others not to go out with Gregor, that he never took 'no' as an answer and even those who said 'yes' usually regretted it.
But there was never any proof; no one wanted to file any complaints against Gregor. Those who were not held back by fear of Gregor himself did not want to be blamed for the Westeros Knights losing a game if he was kicked off the team. He was another one Stannis wanted to keep back a year. But although Gregor was barely passing his classes, he already had offers from several colleges and Tywin Lannister had asked the principal to write him a letter of recommendation to Lannister's alma mater.
"There's a problem in the second floor corridor, east wing," Davos Seaworth said quietly.
Davos was an ex-con and an unlikely hire, but Stannis found him competent and trustworthy. He served as the swimming coach and an all round aide.
"What now?" Stannis asked.
"Clegane."
Stannis frowned. He'd been keeping an eye on Gregor all lunch period and the boy hadn't left the cafeteria once.
"The other one," Davos amended. "Sandor. Him and Joffrey. Joffrey accused some poor boy of bumping into him and making his books fall. He demanded the boy pick them up and apologize to him. The boy refused and now he has a black eye."
Stannis grimaced. Joffrey was his nephew, or so his brother's Lannister wife claimed. "Did the boy say who'd done it?"
"Clegane."
"Send him to my office." He would give Sandor two days' suspension and a week's worth of detention. However it would likely be as productive as talking to Robert and his wife about their son. Sandor had no friends; not even his brother seemed to want him around. His isolation was his own fault since he was talented at sports and could have been popular despite his facial scars if not for his sneering remarks about jocks and preps and his cynical comments when called on in class. Only Joffrey seemed to like him, and Sandor was grateful for it, following the freshman around like a dog.
Sansa Stark's life was over. Joffrey had broken up with her. She'd never have another boyfriend or get to go the prom in a few years or anything. She would have stayed home and listened to Evanescence all day if she could, but her mother wouldn't let her.
She lingered in the bathroom. Her hair and makeup were perfect, and her sunglasses hid eyes red from crying. The smell of the bathroom, urine and cigarettes and something Sansa thought might have been marijuana, made her feel sick, but she couldn't bear the thought of going to class and having everyone look at her and know she'd been dumped for Margaery.
It would have been nice to go outside and sit beneath one of the willow trees and text message her Livejournal with an update on her ruined life. But someone would see her and make her go to class. So instead Sansa slipped into the dark, empty auditorium. It was a good place to cry her heart out. She rummaged through her shoulder bag (backpacks were just so unstylish) and plucked out a packet of tissues in anticipation.
She'd only just gotten started when a raspy voice said, "If you're going to sit there, stop your sobbing."
Sansa gave a squeak of fright. She recognized the voice as that of Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's friend. She'd have been embarrassed if anyone else had caught her, but Sandor was weird. She'd always been nice to him for Joff's sake though.
"I'm sorry I disturbed you," she said, though she had just as much right as he did to lurk in an empty auditorium.
Sandor moved to sit beside her and though she couldn't see him very well, Sansa was conscious of how big he was. It would have been polite for him to leave an empty seat between them. Sansa considered moving but he might take it as an insult.
There was silence for a long time. Sansa had only intended to wait as long as was polite before leaving (so he wouldn't think she was running away from him even though she was) but it was almost nice just sitting here in the dark.
It reminded her of Joffrey's Halloween party last year. That had been the most marvelous night of Sansa's life. She'd dressed up as a mermaid (when she reached Joff's house, she had taken off the beige t-shirt her mother had made her wear under the pretty bra meant to imitate Ariel's sea shell top) and everyone said she looked great. It had been difficult to walk in the tight long skirt forming the tail though; she'd nearly fallen onto the buffet table once, but Sandor had caught her.
Sansa thought it was weird that a high school kid would come to a middle school party, but Joffrey told her that his mother had asked Sandor to look after him when he was younger. It was very nice that they'd become friends. Sansa's babysitter Theon Greyjoy had always ignored her, preferring instead to search through her parents' room and talk on the phone with girls.
She'd stayed late (her father had allowed it because Joff's dad was his friend; Sansa didn't tell him that Mr. Baratheon stayed upstairs with the pretty young housekeeper any time Joff had friends over), even after everyone else had left. She'd been uneasily playing with an unopened beer can while Joffrey and Sandor drank when Ms. Lannister Baratheon came home. Joff's parents had started shouting at each other and Joff had told his chauffeur to take Sansa home. Sandor had needed a ride too, but he'd only stared at Sansa (even though she'd put on a coat over her costume because it'd gotten chilly) and not talked to her during the drive. She was surprised when he spoke to her now.
"You're prettier than Margaery," he blurted.
"Really?" Maybe he was just saying so to be nice.
"Yeah."
"Thank you." Sansa smiled though she knew he couldn't see her.
"I've got to go," he said abruptly. "I've got gym next period."
When lunchtime came, Sansa left the safety of the auditorium. Her grief wasn't quite enough to forestall thirst and hunger. Walking into the cafeteria was the hardest thing she ever did, trying to ignore the people watching her and whispering things about her to each other. She couldn't very well sit at her usual table now that she and Joff had broken up so she sat alone, half way down the long table from a group of people she didn't know. She hoped some of her friends would join her, but they all stayed at Joffrey's table. They were his friends, not hers. She'd never felt like such a loser before. Her only consolation was that Margaery didn't have their lunch period so Sansa didn't have to see Joff with her.
If she begged hard enough, maybe her parents would let her transfer to another school. She was about to leave and spend the period in the bathroom when Sandor sat across from her.
"You're not with Joffrey."
"I must have sat at the wrong table," he said.
Sansa smiled brightly at him. Surely this meant he was her friend now. The cafeteria food was okay, but their cookies were too sweet. Sansa always brought her dessert from home. Her family's cook had made lemon pies last night and they were her favorite. She'd brought two slices to school today. She set the container in the middle of the table. "Would you like one?"
Two weeks later...
She wished Sandor would stop sending her videos of people being beheaded. It was really quite dreadful. And he never sent back any of those lovely caring chain messages she thoughtfully forwarded to him. Some of Sansa's old friends were talking to her again, including her best friend Jeyne Poole whose mother was the Starks' housekeeper. But most of them were friends with Margaery too and Sansa didn't trust them fully. She was certain that every word she posted on her MySpace page reached Margaery and Joffrey, so she only wrote about how great things were there. She saved her doubts and sadness for her Livejournal, which none of her real life friends knew about.
She was busy taking a "Which Disney Princess are you?" quiz when her cell phone began to play her favorite song "My Heart Will Go On." It was a good thing she glanced at the screen before answering it. It was an unknown number.
"Hello," she said cautiously.
"Hi! Is this Sansa?"
"Yes, it is. Who's this?"
"It's me, Margaery. I hope I didn't disturb you! I know we haven't talked much but I'm having a party this weekend and you have to be there."
Sansa didn't know what to say. Why would Margaery invite her to her party? Was it just so they could make fun of her? Or did Margaery really want to be friends? "Hello? Hello?" Sansa said, pretending her phone had lost the call. "Margaery? Are you still there? Hello?"
She ended the call and immediately selected Sandor's number from her contacts list. The phone rang three times before he answered, which made Sansa fear he was avoiding her.
"I was in the shower. What do you want?"
That might have sounded rude coming from anyone else, but Sandor was always that way and Sansa was certain he liked her anyway. "Margaery called me. She wants me to go to her party this weekend."
"So, you going?"
"No! Have you seen that old movie Carrie? What if it's like that?"
"If you're not going, what's the problem?"
"Everyone will be there. I can't be the only one not there; I might as well sign up to be a loser for the rest of my life."
"So you are going?"
"I don't know," Sansa wailed. "Help me."
"What do you expect me to do about it?"
She hadn't thought about that. What could he do? It wouldn't be so bad to go to Margaery's party if someone else was there that she knew was on her side. "You could come with me."
"I wasn't invited."
"Don't be silly. The Knights have a standing invitation to every party."
"Oh, right. The stupid jocks can go anywhere and do anything they want. How could I have forgotten?"
It was rather strange the way Sandor talked about the football players as if he wasn't one of them. But he hadn't spoken to her for the rest of the day the one time she pointed it out, so Sansa didn't comment on it now.
"So will you go? Please. Pretty please. I'll owe you a favor. I'll do anything."
"Fine, fine. I'll see you in school tomorrow." He ended the conversation without another word.
Sansa had to have a new outfit to wear to the party and she told Sandor so the following day at lunch. He was flipping through a magazine with pictures of cars (and women dressed in too little perched on the cars) and Sansa suspected he wasn't listening to her. She gently nudged him with the toe of her high-heeled boot under the table.
He finally looked up. "What?"
"I need new clothes. Want to come to the mall with me this afternoon?"
"I have practice."
Oh, right. "We can go tonight then, but early. You can pick me up."
"I don't have a car."
"Won't your brother lend you his?"
Sandor laughed. "Stick-up-his-ass Baratheon will come to school in a dress before that happens."
That was such a pity, Sansa thought, eying Sandor's faded t-shirt. She'd hoped to convince him to buy some new clothes for himself.
Rating: PG
Characters: Stannis, Davos, Sansa, Sandor, assorted others
Word Count: 2,537
Summary: Basically this is ASoIaF as a high school - or rather, as a teen movie version of a high school.
Note: The ASoIaF cast is way too huge so I've had to ignore a lot of characters and focus on my favorites. This fic is going to focus on Sansa's story and Jaime's story. Because the most fun ships are cross-gen(a 15yr age difference for Sansa/Sandor and a 13yr difference for Jaime/Brienne from my count), everyone's approximately the same age here. It is crack!fic, after all.
Vice Principal Stannis Baratheon surveyed the cafeteria of Westeros High School. It was crowded and noisy and the aroma of cheap pizza mixed most unpleasantly with the suffocating scents worn by the student body. It was a normal day - even a good one by the standards currently employed, unfortunately.
At the last school board meeting Stannis had proposed instituting school uniforms, banning cell phones and Ipods, and segregating lunch periods by sex. All of his proposals had been rejected, and it rankled him that Ned Stark had been the only one to support him besides. This school was a cesspool, but Stannis never considered leaving. In fact, he hoped to be principal some day. When he was principal, things would change.
Definitely starting with a school uniform, he thought, as he watched Cersei Lannister uncomfortably. Cersei was the captain of the cheerleading squad and she looked the part. She wore her cheerleading uniform today, and surely it was not his imagination that the skirt appeared much shorter than it had been last year and the sweater tighter and lower cut. Perhaps Cersei was trying to regain the attention of those admirers who'd flocked to Margaery Tyrell.
Margaery and her brother Loras were new to Westeros High School, having moved to the town over the summer. Though Margaery was only a sophomore and Loras a junior, the pair had usurped the popularity of Cersei and her brother Jaime. People who watched Loras play pick-up games of football before school or during free periods said he was as good a quarterback if not better than Jaime Lannister.
Not that Jaime would be playing football again; not with that knee injury. Tywin Lannister had taken his son to the best doctors in the country (costing him valuable school time, but Stannis had been overruled when he proposed putting Jaime back a year to make up the work) and none had been able to do what Tywin wanted.
Jaime sat by himself at the end of a table, staring at his sister's table. He was glowering as she laughed and flirted with the group of boys surrounding her. Stannis had always thought there was something not quite right with those two. Despite his good looks and popularity, Jaime never dated. His twin sister Cersei was the only girl Stannis had ever seen him with. The students whispered that he was gay, but Renly (Stannis gritted his teeth at the thought of his much younger brother) insisted he wasn't and Renly would know.
Renly was surrounded by his own group of admirers, boys and girls both. Whereas the Lannisters drew the All American football and cheerleading types, Renly's circle was comprised of the art and theatre people, the weirdos constantly painting all the walls whether or not they had permission. Some of the boys had hair as long as a girl's and some of the girls dressed like boys, like that Brienne Tarth, who was as big as a football player to begin with. That group offended Stannis's sensibilities, but they were mostly harmless.
The real trouble was Gregor Clegane, the school's star linebacker. His gang of hooligans was responsible for assaulting students for their money and their latest electronic toys (though Gregor was not poor and his father worked for Lannister Corp; he just seemed to enjoy taking things by force) or simply for "dissing" them by looking at them wrong. Davos also told Stannis that many girls warned others not to go out with Gregor, that he never took 'no' as an answer and even those who said 'yes' usually regretted it.
But there was never any proof; no one wanted to file any complaints against Gregor. Those who were not held back by fear of Gregor himself did not want to be blamed for the Westeros Knights losing a game if he was kicked off the team. He was another one Stannis wanted to keep back a year. But although Gregor was barely passing his classes, he already had offers from several colleges and Tywin Lannister had asked the principal to write him a letter of recommendation to Lannister's alma mater.
"There's a problem in the second floor corridor, east wing," Davos Seaworth said quietly.
Davos was an ex-con and an unlikely hire, but Stannis found him competent and trustworthy. He served as the swimming coach and an all round aide.
"What now?" Stannis asked.
"Clegane."
Stannis frowned. He'd been keeping an eye on Gregor all lunch period and the boy hadn't left the cafeteria once.
"The other one," Davos amended. "Sandor. Him and Joffrey. Joffrey accused some poor boy of bumping into him and making his books fall. He demanded the boy pick them up and apologize to him. The boy refused and now he has a black eye."
Stannis grimaced. Joffrey was his nephew, or so his brother's Lannister wife claimed. "Did the boy say who'd done it?"
"Clegane."
"Send him to my office." He would give Sandor two days' suspension and a week's worth of detention. However it would likely be as productive as talking to Robert and his wife about their son. Sandor had no friends; not even his brother seemed to want him around. His isolation was his own fault since he was talented at sports and could have been popular despite his facial scars if not for his sneering remarks about jocks and preps and his cynical comments when called on in class. Only Joffrey seemed to like him, and Sandor was grateful for it, following the freshman around like a dog.
Sansa Stark's life was over. Joffrey had broken up with her. She'd never have another boyfriend or get to go the prom in a few years or anything. She would have stayed home and listened to Evanescence all day if she could, but her mother wouldn't let her.
She lingered in the bathroom. Her hair and makeup were perfect, and her sunglasses hid eyes red from crying. The smell of the bathroom, urine and cigarettes and something Sansa thought might have been marijuana, made her feel sick, but she couldn't bear the thought of going to class and having everyone look at her and know she'd been dumped for Margaery.
It would have been nice to go outside and sit beneath one of the willow trees and text message her Livejournal with an update on her ruined life. But someone would see her and make her go to class. So instead Sansa slipped into the dark, empty auditorium. It was a good place to cry her heart out. She rummaged through her shoulder bag (backpacks were just so unstylish) and plucked out a packet of tissues in anticipation.
She'd only just gotten started when a raspy voice said, "If you're going to sit there, stop your sobbing."
Sansa gave a squeak of fright. She recognized the voice as that of Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's friend. She'd have been embarrassed if anyone else had caught her, but Sandor was weird. She'd always been nice to him for Joff's sake though.
"I'm sorry I disturbed you," she said, though she had just as much right as he did to lurk in an empty auditorium.
Sandor moved to sit beside her and though she couldn't see him very well, Sansa was conscious of how big he was. It would have been polite for him to leave an empty seat between them. Sansa considered moving but he might take it as an insult.
There was silence for a long time. Sansa had only intended to wait as long as was polite before leaving (so he wouldn't think she was running away from him even though she was) but it was almost nice just sitting here in the dark.
It reminded her of Joffrey's Halloween party last year. That had been the most marvelous night of Sansa's life. She'd dressed up as a mermaid (when she reached Joff's house, she had taken off the beige t-shirt her mother had made her wear under the pretty bra meant to imitate Ariel's sea shell top) and everyone said she looked great. It had been difficult to walk in the tight long skirt forming the tail though; she'd nearly fallen onto the buffet table once, but Sandor had caught her.
Sansa thought it was weird that a high school kid would come to a middle school party, but Joffrey told her that his mother had asked Sandor to look after him when he was younger. It was very nice that they'd become friends. Sansa's babysitter Theon Greyjoy had always ignored her, preferring instead to search through her parents' room and talk on the phone with girls.
She'd stayed late (her father had allowed it because Joff's dad was his friend; Sansa didn't tell him that Mr. Baratheon stayed upstairs with the pretty young housekeeper any time Joff had friends over), even after everyone else had left. She'd been uneasily playing with an unopened beer can while Joffrey and Sandor drank when Ms. Lannister Baratheon came home. Joff's parents had started shouting at each other and Joff had told his chauffeur to take Sansa home. Sandor had needed a ride too, but he'd only stared at Sansa (even though she'd put on a coat over her costume because it'd gotten chilly) and not talked to her during the drive. She was surprised when he spoke to her now.
"You're prettier than Margaery," he blurted.
"Really?" Maybe he was just saying so to be nice.
"Yeah."
"Thank you." Sansa smiled though she knew he couldn't see her.
"I've got to go," he said abruptly. "I've got gym next period."
When lunchtime came, Sansa left the safety of the auditorium. Her grief wasn't quite enough to forestall thirst and hunger. Walking into the cafeteria was the hardest thing she ever did, trying to ignore the people watching her and whispering things about her to each other. She couldn't very well sit at her usual table now that she and Joff had broken up so she sat alone, half way down the long table from a group of people she didn't know. She hoped some of her friends would join her, but they all stayed at Joffrey's table. They were his friends, not hers. She'd never felt like such a loser before. Her only consolation was that Margaery didn't have their lunch period so Sansa didn't have to see Joff with her.
If she begged hard enough, maybe her parents would let her transfer to another school. She was about to leave and spend the period in the bathroom when Sandor sat across from her.
"You're not with Joffrey."
"I must have sat at the wrong table," he said.
Sansa smiled brightly at him. Surely this meant he was her friend now. The cafeteria food was okay, but their cookies were too sweet. Sansa always brought her dessert from home. Her family's cook had made lemon pies last night and they were her favorite. She'd brought two slices to school today. She set the container in the middle of the table. "Would you like one?"
Two weeks later...
She wished Sandor would stop sending her videos of people being beheaded. It was really quite dreadful. And he never sent back any of those lovely caring chain messages she thoughtfully forwarded to him. Some of Sansa's old friends were talking to her again, including her best friend Jeyne Poole whose mother was the Starks' housekeeper. But most of them were friends with Margaery too and Sansa didn't trust them fully. She was certain that every word she posted on her MySpace page reached Margaery and Joffrey, so she only wrote about how great things were there. She saved her doubts and sadness for her Livejournal, which none of her real life friends knew about.
She was busy taking a "Which Disney Princess are you?" quiz when her cell phone began to play her favorite song "My Heart Will Go On." It was a good thing she glanced at the screen before answering it. It was an unknown number.
"Hello," she said cautiously.
"Hi! Is this Sansa?"
"Yes, it is. Who's this?"
"It's me, Margaery. I hope I didn't disturb you! I know we haven't talked much but I'm having a party this weekend and you have to be there."
Sansa didn't know what to say. Why would Margaery invite her to her party? Was it just so they could make fun of her? Or did Margaery really want to be friends? "Hello? Hello?" Sansa said, pretending her phone had lost the call. "Margaery? Are you still there? Hello?"
She ended the call and immediately selected Sandor's number from her contacts list. The phone rang three times before he answered, which made Sansa fear he was avoiding her.
"I was in the shower. What do you want?"
That might have sounded rude coming from anyone else, but Sandor was always that way and Sansa was certain he liked her anyway. "Margaery called me. She wants me to go to her party this weekend."
"So, you going?"
"No! Have you seen that old movie Carrie? What if it's like that?"
"If you're not going, what's the problem?"
"Everyone will be there. I can't be the only one not there; I might as well sign up to be a loser for the rest of my life."
"So you are going?"
"I don't know," Sansa wailed. "Help me."
"What do you expect me to do about it?"
She hadn't thought about that. What could he do? It wouldn't be so bad to go to Margaery's party if someone else was there that she knew was on her side. "You could come with me."
"I wasn't invited."
"Don't be silly. The Knights have a standing invitation to every party."
"Oh, right. The stupid jocks can go anywhere and do anything they want. How could I have forgotten?"
It was rather strange the way Sandor talked about the football players as if he wasn't one of them. But he hadn't spoken to her for the rest of the day the one time she pointed it out, so Sansa didn't comment on it now.
"So will you go? Please. Pretty please. I'll owe you a favor. I'll do anything."
"Fine, fine. I'll see you in school tomorrow." He ended the conversation without another word.
Sansa had to have a new outfit to wear to the party and she told Sandor so the following day at lunch. He was flipping through a magazine with pictures of cars (and women dressed in too little perched on the cars) and Sansa suspected he wasn't listening to her. She gently nudged him with the toe of her high-heeled boot under the table.
He finally looked up. "What?"
"I need new clothes. Want to come to the mall with me this afternoon?"
"I have practice."
Oh, right. "We can go tonight then, but early. You can pick me up."
"I don't have a car."
"Won't your brother lend you his?"
Sandor laughed. "Stick-up-his-ass Baratheon will come to school in a dress before that happens."
That was such a pity, Sansa thought, eying Sandor's faded t-shirt. She'd hoped to convince him to buy some new clothes for himself.