After breaking fast with Joffrey, Sansa had been left to her own devices well into the afternoon. She had pondered on Joffrey during those few hours. Did he like her again? Did this mean she was safe? Or would he change moods and follow through on beating her? As she thought and thought, she realized that Joffrey had not looked like he were to follow through on beating her ever. Even when he had first said it. Where did this leave her then? Could she go back to feeling about him the way she had before? No. From the moment he had spoken words about her traitor father, everything had changed. She saw that he was not who she thought. Her mind had brought her back to Arya and the boy Joffrey had killed and Lady, her direwolf, who died as well. Joffrey could definitely be cruel. Yet, something inside her wanted to believe that he would not be cruel to her. Not like he was with other people. Her thoughts are interrupted by the Queen entering her room.

"Hello, little dove."

"Your Grace." She curtsies.

"I've just come from speaking with my son."

"I hope you found him in good health, Your Grace."

Cersei rolls her eyes at Sansa's forced propriety.

"Yes, little dove, he was in good health. However, he was not in a good mood."

Cersei smirks at the confused look on Sansa's face.

"I am sorry to hear that, Your Grace. I pray everyday for the King's well-being."

"Do you not wish to know why he was in a dark mood?"

"If you wish to tell me, Your Grace."

"My lord-father suggested he consider marrying Margaery Tyrell instead of you."

Sansa felt a hope of escape at her words, like a prisoner seeing sunlight through a cell window. But the the feeling was promptly diminished by the queen's next words.

"He threw a tantrum, father tells me. Refusing to even hear about breaking his engagement to you."

"I .. I am glad that the King is content with me." The lies came so naturally to her. In her heart, she was so terribly scared. Why did Joffrey want to keep her around? Was he not, just a week ago, complaining about marrying Ned Stark's daughter? Was she wrong about him not wishing to hurt her? What if he was only prolonging the time before her punishment for his amument? It seemed like the only plausible answer to her.

"It seems that he cares for you more than we thought."

"I love my King and I am pleased that he cares for me." Sansa thinks back to the time when this statement could have been the complete and utter truth; words from her heart.

"You can try to love him. But one day he'll be bored and you'll be around to play with. Believe me that playing with Joffrey is no fun at all. Just ask the cats he would cut open when he was but a little boy."

Sansa suppresses a shiver at Cersei's words.

"Should I not love King Joffrey, Your Grace?"

"Like I said, you can try. What I meant to say, little dove, is that love will take you nowhere. Wether you love him or not, you will obey him. Love him or not, you will bear his children. Love him or not, you will keep his secrets. Love is immaterial and when it fades, if it is even there to begin with, duty will still remain. Do you understand?"

"I believe I do, Your Grace."

Cersei smiles.

"Such a sweet little dove. I do hope you survive my son, Sansa."

She departs after her final words and Sansa watches the whirl of silks from her gown trail out of the room.

Joffrey remains in his grandfather's solar for two hours after his mother leaves him. Once he's gathered all of his thoughts, he makes his way to Sansa's chambers. He is a man on a mission. Now that he knew what he wanted, he was not about to let it slip away. Sansa would be his. Mind, body and soul. She is settling in her room when he arrives. Her handmaidens are undoing her braids and brushing her hair. They are all startled to see him. The handmaidens quickly give curtsies. He speaks.

"Leave us."

They hastily exit the room.

He takes her in with a gasp. Her hair is down and her gown is gone, leaving her in a shift that clung to her womanly form. She looks otherworldly. Too beautiful to be of the earth.

"Your Grace, I was not expecting..."
She trails off, watching him gaze at her.

"Your hair is beautiful. Like fire."

"Thank you, Your Grace." She waits, not knowing why Joffrey had come.

He walks toward her and stops only when he is directly in front of her, less than inches away. She is still seated and he looks down at her.

"Your skin is beautiful as well. Radiant and fair."

"I... Thank You." Her thoughts are jumbled, he is so close to her. His proximity is overwhelming. He is so handsome.

"I wonder, does it feel as soft as it looks?" He raises his hand and cups her cheek.

Her eyes close at the sensation. Her whole cheek is tingling, she can feel no other part of he body in the moment. Only his hand caressing her face. Joffrey groans.

"You feel unbelievable. I can only imagine what you feel like in other places." He says this with a groan, his thoughts leading him to places he had never been before. He was suddenly lost, imagining what it would be like to touch all over her, to be touched all over by her. To be inside her. He cries out in desperation.

"Stand."

She obeys. They are face to face now. Joffrey a few inches taller than her.

His hands land on her waist. He pulls her close. She gasps at the sensation. He touches her forehead against hers.

"You are mine." Her heart churns at his words. His? What did that mean? To be owned by someone?

Regardless, the King owned everything wether she liked it or not.

"Yes, of course Your Grace."

She swears that she hears him sigh in relief. How odd.

AN

Sorry to be a c***blocker! We'll pick up on this scene the next chapter! Reviews=Updates :)