He was dancing with Margaery Tyrell, the woman he was supposed to wed. He could feel Sansa's eyes looking at him. She seemed to admire him as he danced. It relieved him. At least she wasn't looking at him purely with hatred and disgust this time.
Other guests joined dancing as well. Elinor danced with Megga and Prince Tommen. Sometimes, Joffrey wanted to be his brother, so innocent and happy. Yet he is weak, Joffrey thought. Indeed he was, merely a child who thought about sweets and other childish things. Joffrey was not a child anymore.
His eyes went to other people, Lady Merryweather, Lord and Lady Tyrell, and finally, her mother, the queen, Cersei Lannister who was dancing with Lord Redwyne.
Joffrey looked at Sansa once more yet this time the young lady was not looking at him but at his mother who moved and laughed as her blonde curls bounced. Joffrey saw jealousy and hatred in Sansa's eyes. I hate her too, m'lady. She transformed me into a monstrous beast. Sansa stared at the queen for so long that he thought she would not stop. Then, to his relief, she looked away.
Joffrey saw a man coming toward Sansa. He looked more closely and the man's features showed him that it was Ser Garlan Tyrell. He hated the knight. As a matter of fact, he hated every boy or man who goes too close to Sansa.
Ser Garlan was obviously asking her for a dance. Joffrey saw his uncle's eyes narrow and his lips moved, saying something which Joffrey could not decipher.
Sansa stood up and Ser Garlan took her by the hand. He could feel the blood rising in his face as anger entered him.
"You seem distracted and bothered, Your Grace." Margaery told her. You're the one bothering me, wench. He ought to say.
Joffrey tried not to stare at them to avoid Margaery's suspicions. Yet he heard her laugh, her sweet Sansa's laugh, the laugh he was used to, the laugh which made him fall in love with her, the laugh he had not heard for so long.
He looked at her and she was smiling. The smile was genuine which made her look more vibrant and beautiful. It was a sight he had missed, a sight he had not seen since he ordered to behead Eddard Stark. Everything could have been perfect if he was the one dancing with him and not Ser Garlan.
Both of them had a few more exchange of words then he drew her closer to him, whispering something in her ear. The scene enraged Joffrey and he forced himself to look away.
To his relief, the music separated them, bringing Sansa into another partner, and another, and another until she was finally face-to-face with Joffrey. He could feel her stiffen as he took her hand. The thought that he still had this effect on her brought a smile on Joffrey's face. He tightened his grip and drew her closer. The scent which soon reached his nose was overwhelming. "You shouldn't look so sad. My uncle is an ugly little thing but you still have me."
"You're to marry Margaery!"
"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." They whirled to the music and he gave her a kiss. Every time he does, he always had to force himself to pull away. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it."
"He won't." Sansa said, shaking her head.
Why does she seem to trust him so much?
It was time to change partners again. The remaining dance seemed to be a blur. And soon, the dance was over.
"It's time to bed them! Let's get the clothes off her and have a look at what the she-wolf's got to give my uncle!" Other men cried. Joffrey had not meant it, of course. He never meant half of the things he said all the time. He said it merely to destroy Sansa's trust in Tyrion, if she actually did trust him. Joffrey did not know. He just wanted to show her that the Imp was as perverted as half of the men present at the moment.
Yet Tyrion Lanniser calmly lifted his eyes from his wine cup. "I'll have no bedding"
To his anger, Joffrey seized someone's arm. "You will if I command it!" He turned to look at who had pulled and to his surprise, it was Sansa. He wanted to tell her he did not mean to do it, not to her at least, but he was stopped by Tyrion who slammed his dagger on the table. "Then you'll service your own bride with a wooden prick, I'll geld you, I mean it.
Silence fell. Who does he think he is? Joffrey thought angrily. I am a king and you're just an ugly dwarf! Sansa pulled away from him but he had his grip on her and her sleeve ripped. Queen Cersei turned to his father. "Did you hear him?"
Lord Tywin rose from his seat. "I believe we can disperse with the bedding. Tyrion, I am certain you did not mean to threaten the king's royal person."
"I misspoke," Tyrion said. "It was a bad jape, sire."
"You threatened to geld me!" Joffrey bellowed.
"I did, Your Grace," said Tyrion, "but only because I envied your royal manhood. Mine own is so small and stunned." He gave him an unpleasant look. "And if you take my tongue, you will leave me no way at all to pleasure this sweet wife you gave me."
Joffrey heard Kettleback laugh. Someone sniggered yet the king's face remained. How could he laugh when the image he gave him was too disgusting even before he pictured it out? Fuck you and that tongue of yours, uncle.
"Your Grace," Lord Tywin said, "my son is drunk, you can see that." Of course he is, no man is stupid enough to threaten him unless he was in the state of inebriation.
"I am," his uncle confessed, "but not so drunk that I cannot attend to my own bedding." He clumsily hopped down and grabbed Sansa." Come, wife, time to smash that portcullis, I want to play come-into-the-castle."
Sansa turned red and went with him from the Small Hall. No one followed. not even Joffrey for he could not seem to move. He wanted to smash everything he could find, punch everyone, Lord Tywon, the Imp. He was shamed, not only that, he was shamed in front of Sansa.