Short one-shot, Joffrey/Sansa

OOC in the end.

It was a cool, peaceful evening in the House of Baratheon. Most of the Baratheon family members were asleep, the Lannister family members were also asleep, the servants were getting ready for bed.

A perfect time to polish a sword.

Joffrey Baratheon sat on the edge of his bed, carefully polishing the long sword, his beloved sword Hearteater, in his hands while his wife lay in bed, feigning sleep. Sansa Baratheon couldn't sleep. Not with her king out of bed, not by her side. She couldn't sleep. Not with the sword in his hands.

Her heart beat faster with each swipe of his hand.

Being married to him, didn't change much. He still treated her like a worthless peasant, when they were alone. He was still cruel to her and his people. He still made threats to her family. And even though though he never acted on his threats, she still feared he would.

He threatened her sometimes, but they were empty. But maybe he was going to fulfill his threats right now?

She was certain, he had his sword in his hands. Perhaps he would murder her and say that she was assassinated? Sansa inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm herself, trying to stop her heart from pounding wildly. She was pale and sweating, her hands were trembling.

"Ow!"

Sansa sat up, frightened by the cry of pain that emitted from her husband. She looked at Joffrey, who was clutching his hand, his face slightly scrunched up in pain. His sword was on the floor. She gasped as blood dripped off the blonde's hand and onto the floor. Joffrey's head snapped in her direction, and he glared at her.

"Why are you still awake?"

She paled. "I-I woke to the s-sound of y-your voice." She stuttered, shaking. She cautiously went to his side. "Are you alright?" She asked tentatively. "Does it look like I'm alright?" He said icily.

"N-no... I-I-"

"Why don't you go make yourself useful and get me a rag?" He snarled, then muttered "Stupid girl." Sansa, disheartened, stood up. 'So I'm still stupid to him...' "Of course, your grace. I'm sorry." She hung her head as she left the room and headed to the kitchen. The cook was surprised to see her.

"Why are you up at this time of night?"

"The king... Cut his hand. I need a rag."

The cook nodded and grabbed a clean white rag from one of the cupboards. Sansa accepted the rag gratefully, clutching it. "Why are you up, cook?"

"The queen wants tea..." He looked at her. "You should go now, I'm sure the king is waiting."

Sansa nodded and muttered another 'thank you', then left.

"What took you so long?"

Joffrey snapped as Sansa entered the room. He snatched the rag. Sansa sighed softly as she watched him wipe the blood off his hand, wrapped the rag around it, then tie it. Not even a thanks... Of course...

"Bloody thing..." He said as he looked at his sword. "I polish and admire it, then it cuts me." He grimaced as he clutched his hand. Sansa watched him, keeping her distance. Cold wind blew up her nightgown and she pushed her skirt back down, shivering. "If I'm no longer needed I'll go to sleep." She said quietly. He nodded, not bothering to look at her.

Sansa sighed sadly as she got under the covers. She wished that the king could at least respect her, now that she was his queen. He didn't need to love her, only respect her. She closed her eyes, fists clenched, tensing as her husband joined her in bed.

She stiffened as she felt his warm body press against hers, as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. "Relax..." He whispered. She nodded, relaxing her tense shoulders. They lay like that for a while, in silence.

"I... You're not stupid..." Joffrey said contritely. "I'm sorry..." He whispered, pressing his lips on the top of her shoulder. Sansa blushed. Was she hearing him right? Joffrey had just apologized to her. She lay a gentle hand on his. "It's alright, my king." He nodded, then rested his chin on her bare shoulder, closing his eyes.

Sansa closed her eyes as well, and drifted into sleep, a faint smile on her face.