She should hate Joffrey. She really should. She remembered what her father looked like before he left. Defeated.
He gave her a kiss on the forehead and said "Sansa, I need you to stay here. But I promise, I will return for you. These people will not take you away from me."
She did not understand at first. No one could take anything away from her father. He was the Lord of Winterfell. If he wanted to return home with both his daughters then he would. Right? He seemed as though his hands were tied. Surely her Prince would vouch for her to be able to return home. Joffery cared for her. But almost immediately after her father's confusing departure she was summoned to the throne room and her prince was on the Iron seat. He was the King. Her Joffrey was King. She felt her heart explode in happiness. Surely now he could fix this mess.
He smiled and motioned her forward. "Your Prince is now King. What do you think?"
"I think you look resplendent my King." She replies with a smile, her last genuine smile. He was beautiful in His robes and crown. Just beautiful.
"I do not feel resplendent. Ask me why." His face hardening as he speaks.
"Why, Your Grace?" She asks, confused once again.
"Your Father is a coward, My Lady. He disrespects me greatly by deserting me." He hates to admit weakness to her. It makes him angry, that she can see him being disrespected, by her own damn father especially.
"I am very sorry, Your Grace."
"You should be punished, you know. In your father's place. Come forward."
Tears start streaming down her face. Where was her Joffrey? "I am so sorry, Your Grace. I would never desert you."
"I have no patience for your weakness. I said move forward." Her tears unnerve him. They make him feel... guilty.
She moves forward and stops right in front of him. Her hands are trembling. He looks at her intently. She was beautiful. He did not enjoy it when she was in fear, he realized. But he always thought that everyone should be in fear of him.
He turns away from her, confused. "I changed my mind, get out."
She exhales in relief. "Yes of course, Your Grace. Thank you."
She is relieved at first. Who knows what he could have to chosen to do to her. But then she realizes... she would still have to marry him. And he was turning out to be ... a monster. And yet in her fear, she had developed a slickness between her legs. And when she returned to her rooms, she was mortified to see it was wetness being produced by her most private parts. What was this? Her maids called it arousal. They said it was understandable considering that the king was so handsome and that he was lucky to have such a responsive wife to be. She did not understand much, all she knew was that she wanted to see him again... monster or not. A week later, she is allowed back into his audience. She has her mask on when she enters. No delight to see her King, no fear to see her tormentor, only a mask. He glances at Sansa from his throne. From his safe haven where no one can question him. He wonders, did all kings feel this lost? He always thought once he was King that the confusion would stop. Life was such a mind game. Did Kings have to feel this way? His father never seemed confused. Whores and war, that was what Robert Baratheon had lived for. Not his mother, not him, and definitely not his kingdom. What would Joffrey Baratheon live for? Glancing at Sansa Stark makes him think far too much. She evokes his thought in treasonous ways. This is why he punishes her. She makes him feel ridiculous sometimes. As though he was a messy child to be corrected and straightened up. Did Starks make everyone feel this way? But as he stares at her he notices his body acknowledge her as well. Like it always does. His dick is far too eager to see her auburn hair, her blue eyes, her perfect skin, and especially those perky tits. The fucking tease. He knew he could have her. He was the bloody king he could fuck her in this throne room and be applauded afterwards. But during her stay he tortured her in less than pleasurable ways. He could feel himself doing it. Hurting her, shaming her. Turning her against him. Was this what he wanted? He didnt think he was purposefully antagonizing her, he was only defending himself. She made him feel so weak. Like his father made him feel; deficient. He calls for her.
She answers like a dove. "Yes, Your Grace?"
"Come, show me your pretty face up close." He orders.
She walks to him. Like a lady. Like... perfection. He was never perfect. His father had reminded him of this constantly. She halts a few feet from the Iron Throne.
"Do you take me for an owl? When I say up close, I mean close enough for my eyes to examine you." He was always so harsh with her.
He did not know how else to behave. This was how his family taught him to speak, to act and to think; harsh. The guards push her to him. He turns sharply and addresses them.
"She is mine. You will treat what belongs to me with finesse or I will have your hands cut off with no finesse whatsoever." Now that harshness was not out of awkwardness.
"Yes, of course, Your Grace. We apologize." They replied in pathetic unison.
"Now, Sansa. What do you have to say for your coward father? Running to the north instead of staying to be my Hand?" He says turning back to the girl.
"I...he did not mean to offend you, Your Grace. He only felt that he had duties to meet in the North. I do apologize."
She no longer answers like His Lady. She answers like a maid, a servant. What was wrong with her? She was ruining his day.
"Get out of my sight, you're lulling me to sleep."
"Yes, Your Grace. I am sorry, Your Grace." She curtsies and walks away.
This is how it always went, he would threaten her and never be able to follow through. It was weakness on his part. He should be able to punish whoever he liked. He was the King, was he not? He watches her and realizes that he's very tired of watching her walk away from him.