#and podrick hatches the start of a plan

[lostinmirkwood]

Iambic Pentameter

Catch up from the beginning. Read Chapter 2.

She’s Got The Look

Arya glared down at her notebook, blank except for the pen doodles in the margins. She would love her final period Literature class if only Mr. Dondarrion would let them read something written by someone other than old, dead, white men. Who decided that Steffon Fossoway had more literary value than Nymeria Ny Sar? Nymeria was a Rhoynish rebel during the Valyrian uprisings and her writings reflected the plight of her people as they fled across the Sunset Sea to Dorne. Fossoway just wanted to relive his “glory days” of war through stilted sentence structure and pretentious metaphors about sunlight. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d petitioned Mr. Dondarrion to allow her to take the senior level class as a junior.

She would also love this class even more if there was a seating arrangement that didn’t have Joffrey Baratheon sitting directly behind her. He kept knocking his foot against her chair leg and she was going to lose it on the little snot-nosed southern princeling if he didn’t knock it off soon. She didn’t care that their fathers were best friends, that his grandfather was on the Small Council, and his mother was THE King’s Landing socialite, he was a prick. One who seemed to know just how to push her buttons. If she could keep a lid on her frustration that would be a small victory for her.

Arya tuned back in to the lecture just as one of her classmates was lavishing praise on Fossoway, “His prose is so romantic,” Marella Rosby was gushing.

Arya scoffed audibly, “Romantic? Fossoway? He was a misogynistic alcoholic who spent most of his life trying to shag Aerion Targaryen’s leftovers.”

From behind her Joffrey cut in, “As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous twit who has no friends?”

Arya rolled her eyes. She could see Mr. Dondarrion sigh when she carried on as though she hadn’t heard Joffrey, “I guess in our society being a male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time, Baratheon ,” she could hear his snicker. “What about Argella Durrandon, or Elissa Farman, or Nymeria Ny Sar? Why can’t we read something from-”

The classroom door swung open, cutting her off. The half of the class that wasn’t already facing Arya, and unintentionally the door, to watch her soapbox turned as one to see who was there. Standing in the doorway was Gendry Waters, his unruly black hair falling over his high forehead into his bright blue eyes, scruff decorating his sharp jawline, and the other reason Arya couldn’t enjoy her Literature class. When he even bothered to show up to class he always sat brooding in the back corner smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. He never participated in discussions, she never saw him turn in work, and when it was time for partnered essay editing she always seemed to get stuck with him. He’d flip through the first few pages of her draft before sliding it back to her with a wink and nary a word or a pen mark before slipping out of the classroom as soon as Mr. Dondarrion’s back was turned. It was infuriating.

“What did I miss?” His school bag was hanging haphazardly over his shoulder as he leaned against the door frame, everyone’s attention now firmly on him.

Arya rolled her eyes, and turned back towards the front of the classroom, “Just the oppressive, patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

“Cool,” with a crash the door swung shut behind him as her annoyance returned to whatever it was he did when he wasn’t sitting in Junior Literature, ignoring her essays and winking those blue eyes at her.

Mr. Dondarrion sighed again, his head in his hands. “Miss Stark, thank you for sharing your opinion on Steffon Fossoway and our curriculum. You’re dismissed.”

Arya’s jaw dropped, she hadn’t done anything today to warrant this, “But, Mr. Dondarrion!”

“Dismissed, Miss Stark.”

With a huff, Arya slapped her notebook closed and stood. She made sure to clip Joffrey’s shoulder with her elbow as she stepped past him, fuming, into the hall.

---

Miss Tarth raised a pale eyebrow as Arya swept into the Main Office. “Mr. Dondarrion, again?” she asked, knowingly. Arya nodded before pointing at Ms. Smallwood’s open door with a cocked eyebrow of her own. Miss Tarth sighed and gestured for Arya to enter the guidance counselor’s office. Ms. Smallwood was typing away at her computer talking under her breath as Arya stood in the doorway. Suddenly her head shot up and she shouted, “Brienne! What’s another word for ‘engorged’?”

Arya turned back to look at the secretary. Miss Tarth was staring at the ceiling with a long suffering expression and a slight blush before she replied, “I’ll look it up.”

Arya stepped all the way into the counselor’s office, closing the door behind her, “Turgid?”

Ms. Smallwood cocked her head to the side and thought for a moment. “Perfect!” she chirped before making a few keystrokes and waving Arya into the plain wooden chair in front of her desk. “So, I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Dondarrion’s Literature class again.”

Arya frowned as she sat, “Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.”

Ms. Smallwood looked up from her computer and adjusted her spectacles, “The way you expressed your opinion to Elmar Frey? By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went well, if you’re interested.”

Arya faked a concerned smile, “Good for him. I still maintain that he kicked himself in the balls.”

Ms. Smallwood sighed, “The point is Arya, people find you a bit…”

“Tempestuous?” Arya supplied.

“Bitch from the Seventh Hell is the term used most often. You might want to work on that.” With that the older woman gave a firm nod and turned back to her computer screen.

Arya stared at Ms. Smallwood for a moment before standing to leave, obviously dismissed, “As always, thank you for your excellent guidance. I’ll let you get back to Aegon’s quivering member.”

The door swung shut behind her and Arya heard Ms. Smallwood mumble, “‘Quivering member’, I like that. I’m going to use that,” as the frantic typing resumed.

---

The day finally ended and Pod found himself back in the main courtyard with Hot Pie again. Hot Pie was going on about some hostile take-over in the KLP Baking Club that had his croissants branded “store-bought” much to his offense and dismay. Pod nodded along vaguely as he scanned the courtyard for shining copper hair, straightening slightly when Sansa Stark finally made her appearance. He wasn’t the only one who noticed her arrival though, sprawled on a low wall near them was a small group of guys ringed around a smug-looking blond who was clearly their leader. One of the boys nudged the blond as Sansa approached with the same friend from that morning. Both Sansa and the blond made eye contact as the girls walked by, Sansa smiling shyly and tossing her hair as they went. Just as they passed the blond called out, “Looking good ladies.”

Both girls glanced back briefly as he gave them an appreciative once over before they continued on through the courtyard, giggling as they made their way towards the parking lot. Pod felt nearly invisible as Sansa and her friend passed by him and Hot Pie without so much as a glance in their direction. He sighed quietly and turned back towards Hot Pie who was shaking his head slightly at Pod’s reaction.

Before either of them could speak they heard one of the boys in the circle around the blond say, “She’s out of reach even for you, Joff.”

The blond scoffed, “No one’s out of reach for me.”

“Want to put money on that?” the other boy replied.

“Money I’ve got. This I’ll do for fun.” Joff sneered.

Pod huffed in disgust and it was Hot Pie’s turn to sigh. Slinging an arm around Pod’s shoulders he turned them away from the other boys, “That, my friend, is Joffrey Lannister. Richest asshole at KLP, don’t mess with him. Rumor has it he once had a kid expelled for taking the last energy drink out of the vending machine right before he got there. He’s a model too.”

“Wait, he’s a model?” Pod laughed.

“Mostly regional stuff, but word on campus is he’s got a big tube sock ad coming up.”

“Really?” both boys snickered before Pod looked back towards Sansa who had paused with her friend at the edge of the courtyard, “Man, look at her. Is she always so-”

“Vapid?” Hot Pie commented.

“How can you say that! She’s-”

“Totally conceited,” Hot Pie deadpanned.

“No! There’s more to her than you think. Just look at her. There’s something in her eyes. She’s totally pure. You’re missing what’s there!” Pod exclaimed quietly, aware that his voice could carry through the crowd if he wasn’t careful. He wanted to woo Sansa, not have her start off thinking he was a creep.

“No Pod,” Hot Pie sighed, “What’s there is a haughty little princess wearing a strategic sundress that makes guys like us realize we can never touch her. And guys like Joffrey realize they want to. Put her in your spank bank and move on, man.”

“No, no. You’re wrong about her. Well,” he paused for a moment, “maybe not about the last bit but the rest, you’re wrong.”

“Oh I’m wrong?” Pie smirked slightly, “You know, she’s actually looking for a Volanti tutor.”

“That’s perfect!”

“You speak Volanti?” Hot Pie questioned, looking surprised that Pod had jumped on his suggestion so quickly.

“Uh, no. But I will!” Surely it couldn’t be that hard. They could learn it together if he could just stay a lesson or two ahead. He’d just moved here, no one needed to know he’d taken two, broken up, years of Braavosi. The root language was the same, he could fake it, right?