Some days, Sansa Stark would wander around the castle with no one but Shae by her side. They would slip out into the gardens if they were lucky and the weather was warm, or they would lapse around the castle's halls with Sansa wondering if there was a single Stark besides herself that was living.

Tyrion was true to his word; he never touched her and treated her like a friend, told her stories. Tried to make her smile - a rare commodity in King's Landing. But no matter how many clever quips escaped his lips or however many beautiful flowers bloomed in the gardens that she'd been granted as a wedding present, she could not shake the truth from her mind.

She was pregnant, that she knew, with the boy-king's child.

Her wedding night had been a torturous one and she suspected that Tyrion felt neither attraction to her nor was he at all pleased with the wedding itself, for he had simply shut himself up in a private chamber adjacent to their bedroom. Sansa laid upon the bed, her pretty green eyes clouding over with tears as she wondered just how her fairytale had become her nightmare. Like the roses she adored, her life had withered away in the passing months, with no water for life and no sunshine to soak, the rose that was Sansa Stark was fading. The richness of beauty still within its dried petals but without tender care and pruning, she found herself to be nothing but a weed left for the boots of men to stomp upon.

Was she so wicked as to deserve the fate she had been handed? She pondered as she had laid upon the bed, still virginal as she, one hand atop her chest and the other clutching at her downy covers; was she so terrible as to warrant the cruelties she had been bestowed? Why had her traitorous heart loved Joffrey and why had her spiteful nature pushed away her father before his dire beheading and why had her spoiled vanity aliened herself from Arya?

She had been no better than Joffrey.

Of course she was no sadist and she possessed no overwhelming power but she had been spiteful, spoiled, selfish, and stubborn, thinking only of herself and her own glory rather than the family who had carried her spirit for when she faltered. She had betrayed those she loved in the worst of ways simply because that childish defiance in her had not quelled - and now she was paying the price for her sins.

Joffrey's promise, that hushed and cruel whisper, had been kept - the only promise he's ever upheld, Sansa supposes. Entering into her bedchamber with the light of a single candle; his features had been softened by the glow rather than harshened and his pale blonde hair appeared golden and his dark eyes, usually so cold and mocking, were of a roaring lust. The downturn of his lips was curved upward and if Sansa could reach back into her girlhood fantasies, she could pretend this was the Joffrey that was king - the one with the quiet smile and the golden hair, whose fingertips were gentle - the only gentleness he possessed.

"We must not make a sound," he had murmured, "lest we wake the Imp."

For a boy who had never touched another woman, Joffrey knew what to do. He'd stripped her naked and touched her body, caressing her breast and trailing his hand down to her hip, coming closer and closer to her maidenhead and Sansa dared not protest. This was not love, she had thought as she gazed up at him, this was something else - a vindictive promise being carried out in the sweetest of forms. He would ruin her, she realized, but he would also give her her greatest protection.

She'd felt nothing but warmth when he'd came inside of her; as if a tender heat had filled her entire body - the same sensation she'd felt when she was a little girl, lying by the fireside on a warm night. Her breathing had hitched and she'd wrapped her long legs round him, her heels digging into his thighs and her hands tangled in his hair. She feared this boy and at the same time she was repulsed by him and hated him because of what he'd done.

So she supposed, when she'd held him to her after she herself had seen stars and drew moans from his own lips as he felt her tighten around him, that this could be their reprieve. The last one they would ever share.

"The Imp did not touch you," he'd mused afterwards as he lay by her side, the blankets thrown haphazardly on top of them.

Sansa was pressed to his side, not willingly, but because his arm was still wrapped around her waist and he had pulled her close. Her breath was a gentle kiss to his chest and she found herself feeling a momentary contentedness that she clung onto.

"Tell me why." Joffrey demanded suddenly, his voice growing harsher and Sansa was immediately reminded that while his body could please her, he himself had not changed.

"Lord Tyrion did not wish to force anything on me," she had finally said, her voice soft. "And I suppose he was not attracted to me, either."

Joffrey snorted. "The dwarf has slept with so many whores, I doubt he knows how to please a woman of noble birth."

Sansa had been surprised by his response. For while it was mocking and snarky, he had - in his own twisted way - given her a compliment of the slightest degree. Something one could only dream of from the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa still remembered the way his hands had twisted themselves in her auburn curls, tugging them gently and filling her with a strange pleasure that she dared not acknowledge.

"I am to be married to Margaery," he said, after they had been lying in bed for a good hour. "You will attend my wedding." it was a command, not a question.

Sansa expected no less. "Of course, your grace."

He turned to her, his piercing green eyes had melded into her own, a startling curiosity in them - a strange kind of questioning. "Will you - no," he corrected himself, brushing aside the slight hesitation, "you will wear blue. I will have my guards deliver the gown to you."

"Thank you, your grace for your generosity," she whispered and then winced at how throaty her voice had come out. She had moaned and growled and whimpered, pushing a organ so little used, to its limit. Blushing, Sansa had looked down, trying to slink away deeper into the covers but Joffrey's fingers had gripped at her chin, forcing their eyes to meet again.

"I will acknowledge this child." he said, his voice resolute. "He will be my firstborn."

"But your grace - "

"And you will do everything in your power to keep the Imp away from you. Away from this bed." he stressed, his voice taking a dangerous tone. Perhaps it had been Sansa's imagination, or her desperate yearning for home that had caused her ears to detect the faintest trace of longing in them. A quiet desperation that she had not yet processed.

Instead, she had given a slight nod and pressed her cheek to his chest again. "Of course your grace."

The had proceeded to lie there for a few moments more before Joffrey stood up, his limbs slipping from Sansa's grasp like water as he slipped his robes on again. She dared make no sound but watched him with her eyes wide and her mouth shut; if only he were always to be like this, she caught herself thinking, then perhaps I could have cared for him.

It would have been a twisted romance, Sansa knew, but she would not have come to see him as a sadistic monster. A beast with very little heart.

When he had gathered all his clothes and picked up a new candle from wherever there was one, he made his way to the door and Sansa was prepared to go to slumber when she heard a faint whisper make its way to her ear.

It was only now that Sansa, pregnant with the boy-king's child, realized the words he had uttered.

"Or she."

He had left her that night, Sansa discerned, with bloodied sheets and a promise.

And so she found herself trying very hard to hate him because that old loathing had been replaced with a mild fondness and while the hatred was still there, it had lessened.

Or perhaps, Sansa mused, sitting down beside a stone fountain, it was the child in her that was mucking up every clear thought she had.

Her child.

Joffrey's child.

A/N: For the record, Joffrey and Sansa's relationship was as abusive as f-ck and I actually despise Joffrey as a character. But I couldn't resist in delving into their twisted little dalliance with a slight AU.

This is also my first foray into the Game of Thrones series (I'm in love with Jon Snow...So. Cute.) and I have to say, it is SO addicting!

Leave a review, please!