A/N: Okay, well this WAS just going to be a one-shot…but now I'm not really sure where it's going. I'd just like to thank all of you for your reviews! I was never expecting that much feedback! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Also, opinions: how intense do you really want this to get? Ooh and I'm not sure if any of you have heard "Snow White Queen" by Evanescence, but it totally fits this chapter.
Arya Stark was not bound by chains – at least not in the physical sense. Instead she felt claustrophobic at the fact that there was truly no escape for her this time. Her lack of liberty was the heaviest chain of all, and it weighed down upon her like the might of Westeros itself.
She didn't fear for herself. It was her sister Sansa who might now suffer for her impudence towards Joffrey…she would never bring herself to think of him as the king. He would never be her king. Her lip curled in disgust at the very notion. That insane, monstrous boy thought that he was a king? Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
The dungeon door opened with a rattle and Arya scampered backwards, pressing herself against the far wall. She had only been in her cell a matter of days, yet she already knew the consequences of attempting to claw at the guards when they brought her food or water. However, when Arya heard the clacking of heeled boots on stone, a thrill of horror ran down her spine. That definitely was not a guard.
"I wish to speak with Arya Stark alone." It didn't surprise her to hear the cold and commanding tone of Joffrey Baratheon. "I will summon you once I am finished here. The key, if you please."
There was a jingling sound as the guard passed Joffrey the key and unbidden, an idea formed in Arya's mind. Suppressing a smile, she watched with a steady gaze as Joffrey's blond head bobbed into view in the dim lighting. He twisted the key and the lock sprang open – and that was when Arya attacked.
Baring her teeth in savage rage, she charged at Joffrey and swept her foot out, catching him around the ankles and making him buckle and crash to the ground. Arya took the opportunity while she had it, livid hatred shining out from her blue eyes as she pinned him down with her knee on his chest. She hit him again and again, unlike the blood ran in crimson rivulets from his nose and mouth.
Arya had expected him to squeal and beg her to stop, like the coward he had been as a child. But for some reason, she felt apprehensive when he laughed weakly, spitting out blood. He didn't try and stop her. She didn't understand him. Arya had thought she had known everything about Joffrey…but perhaps she had been wrong.
"Hit me again," Joffrey dared, toying with her, "Then we shall see what happens to your dear sister Sansa. I tire of her already and I assure you, the excuse to be rid of her will be a welcome one indeed."
Arya screamed a thousand curses in her mind. She removed her knee from Joffrey's chest and that was all it took. Joffrey threw her down so that their positions were reversed. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head and despite her struggling, he was stronger than she'd expected.
"Don't you touch my sister," Arya spat at him as he used his free hand to wipe away the blood on his face, grinning like a madman the whole time.
"Oh, I've already done more than touched her. She's pregnant, didn't you know? Fortunately for her, I won't risk losing my heir and so I can't do anything about her irritating existence quite yet. But once the child is born? I will have no further need of Sansa."
He was a monster. He was a monster, and she hated him. Then Joffrey bent down so that his mouth was right beside Arya's ear. She was repulsed by his close proximity…far too close. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck and it disturbed her.
"You know what, Arya? I think you would rather like it when I killed her. You have always found Sansa to be a bother. Don't lie and say you haven't."
Arya bit down on her lip, hard. What Joffrey implied was heinous. Arya would never wish her own sister dead. Sansa had been annoying, yes…but not to that extremity. Finally, Joffrey's weight was removed from her and for one relieved moment, Arya thought he might be leaving. Instead he just tilted his head to the side and offered her one of his heartless smiles.
"You could be mine. Despite your unkempt, filthy appearance, you still have the blood of a Stark…and the fire of…well, I don't quite know. But you far more interesting than Sansa. The court would not object if I took you as my wife."
Arya sneered at Joffrey. She was not afraid of him, but the fact that he had the power to do what he wished without question.
"I would kill myself first."
Joffrey raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Is that so? What if I said that I would keep your sister alive? I could simply annul the marriage."
Arya simply didn't understand. Why was Joffrey so determined that she would belong to him? Why didn't he just torture her or kill her and get it over with? She knew the answer to that question, deep in the darkest recesses of her being. She just didn't want to acknowledge it.
"Why?" she asked, her voice quiet but fierce, "Why is it me? You could have any other woman…"
Joffrey offered her a smug smile. "That's precisely my point. I could have any other woman. But I don't want any other woman…I want you and I shall have you, Arya, whether by your will or not. I want you because you don't shatter like a china doll…and that makes me curious what it might take to truly break you."
Joffrey swiped his hand across his face again, frowning at the scarlet that stained his hand. He looked across at Arya with something dangerous in his ice-cold eyes.
"I think you owe me compensation. You have attacked the king and that is not something to be taken lightly. We wouldn't want anyone to come to harm, would we?"
Arya loathed him for implying that he would hurt Sansa, and disgusted at herself that she could not fight him on this one. Fighting was something Arya knew, something she breathed. It was a tentative peace and a reluctant stalemate that made her wary.
"What do you want from me now, Joffrey?" Arya practically spat the words.
Joffrey just beckoned. "Come here."
Dread twisting at her stomach and a sick taste in her mouth, Arya approached him cautiously. When she was within reach, Joffrey lunged forward, grabbing a handful of her dark hair and twisting painfully, forcing her to move even closer.
"Tell me, Arya…have you ever been kissed?"
No, he wouldn't be so cruel…and yet he would, because he was Joffrey. Arya was struggling to keep herself together as she shook her head vigorously, gulping as he wrapped an arm around her slim waist, pressing her possessively to him.
Arya wanted to hurt him, so badly…but she was frozen in fear. It was like suddenly, she wasn't Arya anymore. She was just a limp doll in the king's obsessive grasp. She felt sick. This was just twisted and wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Arya had been prepared for Joffrey to hurt her, but not do this. Not play these revolting mind games.
"Is that a no?" Joffrey chuckled as his arm tightened around Arya and she averted her eyes, wanting to pretend she was anywhere but where she was. "Such an innocent. For a girl who is so worldly in some ways, you are quite naïve in others."
"Get your hands off me," Arya whispered, but the fight had completely left her.
Joffrey gave a wolfish smile of triumph. "Never."
Then he moved as quickly as a striking snake, his lips colliding with hers. Arya wanted to pull away, but with Joffrey's arm around her waist, that option was prevented. Instead she could only swallow down her disgust as Joffrey kissed her forcefully. A kiss was supposed to be romantic and sweet…yet Joffrey had made it something full of hate and – in his case, never hers – lust. It wasn't supposed to be this way.
Arya was close to tears as Joffrey deepened the kiss. It was the most horrible moment in her life – no, second most horrible. The most horrible had been seeing her father killed. Now the heartless man who had ordered his execution stood here with lips pressed against hers and his arm around her like the tightest of chains.
Arya broke free and shoved Joffrey away from her, unable to take it anymore. She was trying not to hyperventilate, fighting the urge to assault the king once again. She could kill him with her bare hands…yet she knew what the consequences might be. Then she whirled around to face him, anger and hatred fuelling her fire.
"Stop it!" she screamed at him, sounding like the eleven-year-old she had once been but no longer caring, "Just stop it! I am sick of your horrible games!"
Joffrey lips curved into a victorious smile. Finally, he was beginning to see the chinks in Arya's armour. She was beginning to crack. The threat of Sansa loomed ominously over her head and as long as it lingered, Arya would not deny him anything…or would she? Very soon, the time would come where he would test what was stronger: Arya's loyalty to her family, or her sense of self-preservation.
"You're afraid of me," Joffrey hissed the words with sheer delight, "Oh, Arya. It would seem that a kiss affects you far more than any torture ever could…"
"Stop. It." Tears glittered brightly in Arya's eyes, but she dared not let them fall. She would not let him see her cry. She would not give him that satisfaction when he had enough already. For a few moments she thought Joffrey would stay just to mock her even more, but then he was slamming the cell door closed and locking it behind him.
"Until next time."
It was both a promise and a threat. Only when she was certain that Joffrey was gone did Arya press her back against the wall and try to come to terms with what had just happened. Joffrey had kissed her. Why would he do that? She didn't understand. She knew he wanted to torment her, but why had he kissed her to accomplish that?
I will never belong to him, Arya told herself furiously as she threw herself down on the cot and let the tears roll down her face, Never.
