She wrote in her delicate calligraphy his name, the J grand and important, the Y swirly and beautiful. That's the way he liked it, she told herself, penning the rest of the letter. She signed it with her name, thin letters, the same size as the rest of the letter.
She hurriedly opened his letter, pouring over the parchment, her heart drinking up the words:
My Dearest, Sansa,
I hope this letter finds you well, and as a fair maiden as ever. My mother says I am to meet you, and I am to travel to Winterfell come your Name Day. I have missed your letters dearly, and look forward to walking with you along the walls of the castle, looking out over the forests.
I wonder if we are to marry. I would welcome that prospect, and would love to meet you in King's Landing one day. Perhaps you would care to try some of our fine liquor? Always yours,
Joffrey."
She smiled and tucked the letter away in her writing desk. He was in love with her. He, the heir to the throne of Seven Kingdoms, intending to marry her? It was all too much to handle.