Chapter 44
SANSA STARK
Sansa was a fool. Only a fool would fail to see the truth of Joffrey Lannister and his family. For years, she had grown up hearing tales of knights and princes. She had grown up hoping to wed an honorable man and bear him children as a dutiful wife should.
But only now did she realize that all those tales were nothing more than just that. Tales. Stories meant to fool naive and stupid girls like her. In many ways, she was even worse than Arya, and the scars on her body were a testament to her stupidity.
She had thought herself blessed when the King had betrothed her to his eldest son, but only now did she realize that the betrothal was nothing less than a curse. Joffrey Lannister was a Prince, but only in name.
Hidden behind those glistening hair and roguish smiles was a monster worse than any she had ever seen. It had taken her too long to learn of her true nature, and by then it was too late.
She remembered the night she had come into this very room. She had walked into the place with all her naivety and innocence, only to have it all stripped away from her as Joffrey chose to make an example out of her.
Barbarian, he had called her. A Northern Whore. He had taunted her after binding her to the very bed she now sat on, while his lickspittles stripped her of her clothes and all her dignity.
The pain that had come afterward was worse, though. She remembered crying for help. For mercy. She remembered crying for the knights standing guard at the door to come and save her as Joffrey's blade cut through her skin while his friends all laughed at her misery.
She cried and cried, yet no knight burst through that door. That was when she finally understood that all the tales and songs that she had heard were nothing more than lies and tales.
She did not remember when she stopped screaming, but she did. She no longer remembered when she stopped hoping, but she did.
But she remembered waking up in a bed with the Maester hanging over her head, as he stitched up her wounds and applied balm over her bruises. She remembered seeing the pity in the gazes of the servants tasked with looking over her.
But it no longer mattered. She remembered asking for her father and her sister, only to be denied the chance of seeing them. She remembered hearing about the war and the armies heading towards the Capital.
She remembered praying to the Gods to have war swallow Joffrey and his ilk, and the Gods finally answered her prayer. Joffrey may have survived the war, but it had cost him everything else.
He was stripped of his powers and locked in a distant part of the castle as his own twin replaced him on the throne.
Steffon Baratheon. Joffrey had told her about him before. He had called him a traitor and a monster, and she had believed him at that time. But now she knew better.
So, when word reached her of the war coming to an end, as the last of the host at Harrenhall surrenders, she knew the pains that lay ahead. Sansa's desire and prayer to marry a Royal Prince had led her family down this disastrous path, and so it was up to her to save them as well.
Father. Mother. Robb. Arya. Bran. Rickon. Even Jon. She was responsible for all their suffering, and so it was her duty to save them as well. If only she had never prayed to the Gods to let her marry a Prince. If only she had asked for something else.
But she was no longer the pure and naive girl who had walked into this capital believing tales of bravery and chivalry. No. That girl had died in this room.
Now, she knew the truth of power and desire. She knew what little of it she had, and she was willing to sacrifice it all to save her family from the wrath of the new King.
It was not difficult to charm the guards into letting her inside the new King's chambers. The men seemed guilty enough over what had happened to her, and she knew well from the rumors that she was not the only girl to try such a thing.
A dozen or so ladies had tried a similar tactic to entice their new King, and if the rumors were to be believed, he had sent them all back to their fathers or brothers without laying a single hand on them.
The scars on her body were still raw, but she knew that she could not wait. Soon enough, her family would be kneeling in front of the new King with chains wrapped around their bodies, with their fates tied to the whims of their new King.
Sansa had little to offer him, but even if she could soften his heart only a little bit by throwing away what little dignity she had left, Sansa would not hesitate at all.
Still, her heart sank as she heard the door open, and her head snapped towards their new King. Their eyes met, and the green of them was so familiar that she felt a shiver run through her spine as memories of that wretched night burst forth.
But even though they were similar in their coloring, she saw none of that malice and madness in that gaze. His hair was different. Shorter, and he was a head taller than his twin.
"Lady Stark," he greeted her with both surprise and warmth, and it was obvious that she had caught him by surprise.
"Your grace," she bowed her head as the door was closed behind him, and just like that, her heart began to race.
He was slow in his approach, and it took all of her courage and bravery not to simply step away and run out of the room.
They were now only a few steps from each other, and neither had said anything beyond their greeting as her eyes remained rooted to the ground.
"I..." "I...."
They both opened their mouths at once, and Sansa was quick to retreat as she looked up.
"I must say I am surprised by your presence, my lady," the young King began, and he even sounded different than his brother. They were twins, and yet they were as far apart from one another as any other siblings.
Perhaps if she were to really look, she might be able to find the likeness in them, but she did not have the courage to find them. Not now, when her entire family's future lay in his hands.
"I wished to speak to you, but I was told by the Maesters that you were still recovering," and she was in a way.
"Thank you for your kindness, your grace," and there was little use in offending him, and she met his gaze now, and he hesitated a bit before he spoke again.
"I know that you might think them hollow, but I am truly regretful over what my brother did to you," and he seemed genuinely remorseful over what had happened to her.
"My brother, for all his faults, knew well how to hide his true nature from the people of the castle. I knew that he was capable of cruelty, but to do what he did," and the King gave out a sigh.
"You have my apologies on his behalf," and she let those words hang in the air, waiting for a laugh or a cackle, but when none came, she realized that he was being truthful with her.
"You knew," she realized, and Steffon Baratheon nodded.
"It was why you were trying to replace him," and when Joffrey had learned of his brother's plans, he had sent assassins after him. He would often lament how his brother had survived the attempt and had rejoiced when he had read that he had been captured by Stannis and his men.
"I was not trying to replace him," the younger twin countered.
"Not in the way, he suspected at least," and the King sat down and offered her to do the same with a gesture, yet she remained standing.
"I had no intention of harming him. He is my brother after all, but I did hope to gather enough power to protect him from his own fallacies," and even though Joffrey had tried to kill him, and his very presence remained a threat to his claim.
Steffon Baratheon had not laid a single finger on his elder twin. Joffrey was still alive, and though he was a prisoner in his own castle, he was alive. A mercy, she was certain that he would not have offered his brother if he were the King.
"But I failed, and you were left to bear the consequences for it," and he was kinder than she had expected, or was it all a ruse? She did not wish to believe it, but there was no one around them. It was just the two of them here.
He did not have to pretend right now. Joffrey had always been jealous of his twin, and how the entire family would always praise his brother.
Still, she had to remind herself that the young man in front of her had slain two of his own uncles. His kindness may be genuine, but he was raised by the Old Lion, and even in the North people remembered well teh Rains of Castamere.
"So let me ask you, my lady. Why are you here?" and the question hung in the air, as Sansa's breath hastened as she tried to think of an answer, and she tried to cling to whatever little honor and dignity she had left.
But she knew well that she had no choice. That she had nothing other than that to offer him.
"I am here for my family," she answered, and her voice shook as she said those words.
"I know that my family is traitors, and that they broke their vow. But they were misled," and tears welled in her eyes as her family's faces passed through her eyes.
"They were led astray by my aunt and the Spider, and so I beg you to offer them mercy," and it was not just her family that was suffering because of her naivety.
No. The entire North was burning, and she had heard how Euron Greyjoy had the Ironborn were ravaging the North, while its armies remained stranded in the South beyond the Moat.
If they were to push out these invaders, then they would need the Crown's support.
"Lady Sansa..." Joffrey's brother cut in, but she did not let him finish.
"I know that I do not have much to offer you," and she did not have the courage to look at his face, so she stared at the floor as her fingers reached for the knots holding up her dress.
"But this, so even if it will lessen your rage by but a drop, then I am yours for tonight and all the nights af...," and with that she pulled on the lace, and felt her dress loosen up, and begin to fall but before it could fall down her shoulders she felt a hand stop her from pulling on the lace, while another gently stopped it from falling down her shoulder.
Her heart sank at that, as she heard him answer.
"There is no need for this, my lady," but she was not listening as she heard only his denial.
"NO! PLEASE!" she begged, as tears slid down her face.
"YOU CAN HAVE ANYTHING..."
"SANSA!" and his voice was loud now, and so she finally stopped struggling, as a sense of defeat and loss filled her entire being.
"I said that there is no need for this," and she finally noticed the kindness of his tone, and so she opened her eyes and slowly looked up, and his face was inches away from her own, as he looked down at her with an impassive face.
"I am not my brother," he repeated.
"My family. The North...," she whimpered as tears continued to slide down her face, and his face hardened.
"Please, I beg you," she repeated while his hands slowly pulled up her dress and tied back the lace as she clung to his body to hide her shame.
"You need not worry about your family," and the words made her stop.
"Your family did betray me, but my father thought of your father as a brother. I will not tarnish that memory anymore," and he took a deep breath as he gave her a nod.
"I cannot forgive their sins, but they will have all the mercy I have to offer," and that was all that she could ask for, and the words took a second to register and once they did she felt her legs grow weak as the courage she had gathered in days all but vanished and she was forced to cling to his doublet for support as she let herself scream out in pain.
"Thank you. Thank you....."
0000
As always, you can read ahead and support me through my Patre 0n. Your support and patr 0nage are what make all this possible. So, drop a sub if you can. It would help me out quite a bit.
www.Patre 0n.com/Drkest
Have a fantastic day!