JOFFREY I
He appeared at the Stark girls' chamber the following morning, clothed in gold and red as per usual. This was out of Joffrey's comfort zone - by a long mile.
Romance was William's gift. Not Joffrey's. Sure, he could talk his way over his discomfort, concealing it with words of endearment and courtesies, but he felt awkward about it all the same. Her chamber door was opened by a handmaiden, revealing his betrothed. She donned a gown of pale green with big sleeves and a fitted bodice, her appearance was pleasing to him.
"My lady," he greeted her with a smile and she returned it with a curtsey. He extended his arm to her, "shall we?"
"You look well this morning, my prince," she spoke, linking her arm through his.
It was a foreign feeling, but nice nonetheless.
"And you, my lady. Are you enjoying the capital?" he continued.
"Yes, my prince, it's everything I hoped it would be," she smiled.
"I am glad. Your hair looks nice this morning," he complimented, noting her more Southern hair style. It suited her.
"Thank you," she began, "if I may, my prince, how is your arm?" she said.
The prince looked to his right arm that swung at his side. He had near forgotten the wound.
"Healing, my lady," he began, "and your sister?"
"She is well," Sansa breathed and Joffrey urgently panicked, searching his mind for a subject change.
"I trust that your brother is enjoying King's Landing also?"
"Bran, yes, he'll be at court this morning also."
His sworn shield walked behind them and Joffrey looked to him whilst the Lady Sansa gazed at the view from the halls that they made their way through. Sandor Clegane shrugged, sensing Joffrey's awkwardness.
"Your dress, my lady, did you make it yourself?"
"Yes, my prince, do you like it?"
"Very much,"
The girl was beautiful, Southern or not, she emulated the grace of his mother and sister. Her skin was fair, like his, and her eyes were a similar shade of blue. But her hair…it was unlike anything he'd seen before. A vibrant auburn. It made everything about her stand out from the crowd to him. Her eyes looked bluer and her skin purer, and he recognised her hairstyle as one that his mother often wore.
They came across the Princess Sarafine before entering the Throne Room, where his father would sit.
"Prince Joffrey, Lady Sansa," she curtseyed, her handmaidens doing the same.
"Princess Sarafine," Joff bowed, "my brother does not attend with you this morning?"
"He was to escort me but The King called my prince in on urgent business, I am told,"
"Allow me to escort you then, princess," he held out his injured arm and she took it gently, wary of the bandage. Her party joined Clegane behind them as they passed through the open doors to that grand room with that iron chair.
The Lords and Ladies of the court turned to watch them enter, each nodding as the prince, his lady, and princess passed. Sarafine smiled at them all, but the same could not be said for the Lady Sansa, who looked upon the former with a critical eye.
His royal father was not yet present on the Throne, his council however standing to its right, save Ned Stark. His mother sat to its left, clothed in a coral coloured gown.
"That's Ser Brynden the Blackfish, your mother's uncle, behind my mother there," Joff tried to distract Sansa, "and Ser Jorah Mormont next to him," he pointed to the two men, cloaked in white and plated in pristine gold.
Joff felt his mother's eyes upon him and saw her smile. He nodded in her direction and he approached the front of the room. The royal announcer began speaking, his mother and the small council standing from their seats.
"His Grace, King Robert of House Baratheon, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The Prince William of House Baratheon, First of His Name, and Lord Eddard of House Stark, the Hand of the King and Warden of the North."
Robert entered from the small council chamber, which sat at the back of the Throne Room. He stood at his seat, overlooking his audience before sitting down, the Queen and small council doing the same. Announcements began being made and the small council consented.
"The Crown calls on the Prince Joffrey of House Baratheon and the Lady Sansa of House Stark," the royal announcer spoke.
"Approach," his father spoke gruffly, growing impatient by the minute.
Joff brought Sansa forward on his left arm.
"It is the wish of His Grace and the Hand of the King that Prince Joffrey and Lady Sansa are betrothed to wed when both have come of age. The small council consents," the old lecher, Grand Maester Pycelle, read from a scroll of paper.
Joff looked to his Lady, who smiled a wide smile - thrilled at the extravagance of it all.
"Prince Joffrey, do you swear to honor the sacred vow of betrothal?"
"Aye, I do," he responded to the old man, looking at his Lady and her smile all the while.
"Lady Sansa, do you swear to honour the sacred vow of betrothal?"
"By the old gods and the new, I swear it," she responded, nodding her head.
They returned to their place in the crowd, his mother's proud eye on them as they did so.
"The Hand's Tourney will take place next week to celebrate the naming of Lord Stark as Hand of the King. The small council consents."
"Will you ride in the tourney, my prince?" she asked him when Robert had exited the Throne Room and everyone else began to follow.
"Princes aren't allowed to ride in the tourney, my lady," Joffrey reminded her.
"But you are not the heir," she said. She meant it innocently, he knew, but that's not how he took it.
"Law is law," he said, bitterness in his tone and on his tongue.
"Forgive me, I forgot," she shook her head.
Forgot the law, or that I'm even a prince? Joff thought, his insecurities about the Kingsroad outburst creeping into his mind.
"But you will attend it?" she asked, timidly. The Prince mentally damned his temper.
"Of course," the prince exhaled, doing his best to push the thought out of his mind, "it's my duty to attend. I expect to see you in the crowds? It is your father's tourney, after all," he smiled.
"I will be there, my prince. I hope to see Ser Barristan the Bold ride, and the Knight of the Flowers, also."
"You will not be disappointed, my lady, both knights of the Kingsguard ride well,"
"Lady Sansa, your father has requested your presence in the Chamber of the Hand," the captain of the Stark household guard said. Their goodbyes were short, and then she was off, her pale green gown and fiery hair all that the prince could see.
