A/N: No questions since my last post. If you have them don't hesitate to ask. Any good criticism, please, lay it on me. Ideally constructive only. :D
G.R.R.M. owns all characters save my own OC's.
Chapter Three:
Sansa was sure she was dreaming. Or mad. It mattered not, she supposed. Her maidenhead would be taken by Joffrey, the vile, horrible boy that he was, and she could do nothing to stop him.
Naturally she had immediately taken to a fantasy where a knight came to save her from his clutches. And no false knight, like Ser Meryn or Ser Mandon, but a brave, honorable, gentle warrior like Aemon the Dragonknight, whom she'd dreamed of so often. But this man was different from her usual imaginings. He was enormously tall, and broad of chest and shoulder. His arms, even beneath the metal vambraces and such were clearly quite large, veined and bulging with thick muscle. He was handsome, after a fashion, she supposed. His head was large and square, but his jaw appeared as though it was chiseled from stone, and looking into his eyes was like staring into twin pools, infinite in depth. His hair was close cut, his brown locks barely reaching the top of his ears. But he was clean-shaven; and oddity among Northmen. And his jaw appeared unhinged slightly as he stared at her and her bare bosom as well as Joffrey, with his trousers still about his ankles though it smelled as though he had indeed soiled himself in fright.
Sansa could not help but blush as this stranger drank in the sight of her naked breasts. But, just as abruptly as he had entered, he shook his head as though clearing his mind, and coughed, diverting his gaze away from her, a small flush pervading his cheeks even now. He is embarrassed? Sansa asked herself. What manner of ruffian is this?
His eyes snapped back into focus upon Ser Boros, the fat old fool trembling shamelessly as he faced the hulking Northman. With a wordless shout, the stranger threw himself at Ser Boros, quickly beating him back into her dressing table. The wood snapped as Boros collapsed onto the table, her looking glass crushed beneath his armored weight. The newcomer barked a harsh laugh, and swung his axe in a mighty arc that soared through the air and crunched through Boros' armor like pottery. It was buried up to its haft into his stomach, and Boros began weeping and shrieking madly as he vomited his own blood and viscera. With a contemptuous air, the Northerner bent over, placed his huge hands against each side of Boros' head, and twisted it to one side in a quick jerking motion, snapping the knight's neck and ending his piteous cries.
Releasing a short breath, he looked down on Sansa, before dropping to one knee, "Highness. You live. It is a relief to find you unharmed." He pauses, tactfully ignoring the sweet expanse of bosom in front of him. "That is…The boy there…he did not…" The blushing stranger trails off, leaving it unsaid.
Sansa gasps slightly, and presses a hand to her mouth. "I…Oh, no! No, he did not…I mean…I am yet a maiden…" She finishes lamely, her own cheeks flaming. She desperately casts about for a distraction. "I…erm…Ser. Excuse me, Ser Knight, but I know not your name."
The knight smile, "All is well, Highness. I am Corlen Austriman, of White Harbor. At your eternal service." He takes her hand delicately in his large gauntleted one, and presses it to his lips. "I have come to return you to your brother, King Robb."
At that, the previously mewling Joffrey was up in a flash, "That Stark cunt! I'll kill every last one of them, Wolf bitches included!"
Ser Corlen, her protector, as it seems, takes a step and backhands the Lannister child across his face, splitting his lip and bloodying his cheek. As the mail rakes across Joffrey's face, it leaves deep furrows. Corlen seizes him by the front of his doublet and draws a dirk from his belt. "You will be silent unless spoken to. You may not have much to lose, boy, but lose it you will if you don't hold your damned tongue." The steel blade is pressed beside the golden-haired King's manhood. "You understand my meaning?"
Joffrey's eyes widen in fear, and he begins sobbing uncontrollably, offering wealth, titles and power if only he is left his life. With great disdain, he tosses the boy-King casually out of his way, his back thumping forcefully against the wall. Sansa watches in vicious delight, crowing in Joff's humiliation and cowardice. Smiling, she wraps a cloak about herself, and steps closer to her guardian. "Ser Corlen, as much as I should enjoy seeing him shamed further, we must go. Surely others will have heard the results of your..handiwork."
Corlen nods briefly, and draws his sword. "I came here for two Princesses, Your Highness. Where is your sister?"
Sansa's fragile bubble of giddiness shatters. Arya... Sniffling quietly, Sansa looks up at Corlen, tears brimming in her eyes, "Arya...she-she hasn't been seen since Father was killed. She...she must be dead." She drops to her knees, only to hear a wild cry from the corner of the room to where Joffrey had slunk.
Biting back an oath, Corlen took a step forward to meet the boy who was flailing a sword about wildly. With a sudden graceful slash, he severs Joffrey's arm at the elbow, and drives his fist home into the boy's chest, which in turn removed him from his feet to where he lay whimpering on the ground in a slowly growing pool of his own blood. The bone is visible, gleaming brightly in the waning sunlight peaking through the shutters. Sansa grips Corlen's upper arm as he raises his sword to swing the final blow. "No, Ser Corlen! Do not free him so easily. Let him suffer, here..." Corlen sighs, "As you command, Your Highness. Though I fear we shall regret this."
Corlen reached down to grab her hand. "Highness, I would suggest that we flee. And now. The guards will be here at any moment." He smiles reassuringly. "Do not fear, Princess. I shall not allow them to harm you."
Sansa, dwarfed by this gallant, heroic monster of a knight, can do nothing but return his smile, an adoring twinkle in her eyes, "As you say, Ser Corlen." She giggles quietly, and wonders if her dreams are not so dead after all?