A/N: I'm really appreciative of the support I've been getting. I try to reply to all reviews, and so I'd like to say thank you to those who have remained anonymous. I really want to get this story out as quickly as I can so it doesn't leave me. I hope the constant updates are cool and not totally obnoxious. Also, I'm pretty sure my timeline for this story will be a bit weird. I'm trying to keep it as true to the show as possible but it's tough to know how much time has passed at points. Ah, well. Tally ho.

Chapter Ten: Prayers

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SANSA

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A week went by, and then two weeks passed. Sansa went about her lessons, sewed, and produced drawings but she did not enjoy one moment of it. Everytime she heard a noise, everytime she was alone or lying awake in bed, she was certain it was King Joffrey come to defile her again. He'd promised, hadn't he? He had still banned her from taking her meals with he and his family unless he chose to dine alone, and when that occured, Queen Cersei said absolutely nothing about his intentions. She saw him in court but it was as though she was invisible- King Joffrey would sneer in her general direction and immediately turn his head whenever she mistakenly locked eyes with him. On the very few occasions she'd caught glimpses of him parading about the gardens or halls with the Hound on his heels, Sansa had quickly ducked behind armor or slunk into a corner, praying to go unnoticed.

"He's ignoring me, Shae," she told her handmaiden in a confused whisper. "It's exactly like when I first arrived here, when he was still angry about Nymeria injuring him. I'd try so hard to get his attention and he'd look away! I haven't been asked to dine with him since before we went riding!"

"You seem distraught!" Shae had replied, setting Sansa's supper on the bedside table. "Isn't this what you want?"

"It makes me nervous," Sansa said, feeling a chill as she uttered the words. "This way, I never know when to expect him. He could find me at any moment. It's making me sick. He says that he's teaching me a lesson by leaving me be, but I thought I'd see him by now."

Shae laughed darkly. "Some lesson this is. Perhaps you can inform him of how much you are learning from being away from him if he speaks to you again-"

But Sansa did not find it amusing, not in the least. She wondered if the king had grown bored of her as he often did with everything else in his life, and if maybe he would leave her be until they were wed, until she'd be able to bear his children. Sansa knew she could not be optimistic, though. Likely, this was just another game Joffrey was playing. She imagined him laughing alone in his chambers, smug at the obvious fact she was scared out of her wits anticipating him visiting her again.

On the fourth week of being suspiciously ignored, Sansa passed the throne room on her way to the Godswood and stopped in her tracks as soon as she heard the king's loud, piercing voice. Willing herself not to look, she kept staring straight ahead until he heard another voice, a child's voice. Without really thinking, Sansa turned to look. King Joffrey was waving something around while chasing Tommen, who was protesting. Sansa squinted, and finally realized with some terror that the object in Joffrey's hands was a scepter, a scepter with gnarled antlers at the end of it. He was holding it high above his head and swinging it to and fro.

"Joff! Please! Don't!" squealed Tommen.

"You stupid little pig!" Joffrey replied. "Don't tell Mother lies about me! If I hear you've been talking about me again, I'll skin you alive and make a coat out of you. Just like I did with your precious fawn!"

"No! I didn't lie!" Tommen protested and burst into tears, seeming to run out of breath. He fell to his knees and cowered on the floor. Sansa looked around wildly, but it seemed no one was there. Where is the Hound? The rest of the Kingsguard? They cannot be far! They wouldn't really let Joffrey hurt his own brother, would they? She remembered what Tommen had said: When Joffy gets you alone, the bad things happened. Unable to move her eyes, Sansa paled.

"What did you say, then?" Joffrey demanded, his treacherous playful tone dissolving into a hateful snap. He stood above his brother, wielding the scepter above his head like a battle axe. "WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT ME TO MOTHER, YOU LITTLE SHIT?" His cruel voice echoed off the high ceiling and walls, contrasting deeply with the way his crown glittered on his pretty blond head like a halo.

"Nothing!" Tommen wailed, and Joffrey brought the scepter down on his brother's shoulder. Whack! Tommen let out a shriek. Sansa's eyes welled up with tears. She felt frozen to the floor. Poor, poor sweet prince Tommen! she thought desperately, though I am quite relieved it is not me. At this uncensored, evil thought, Sansa bit her own lip hard, feeling terrible and embarrassed. I really need to pray! That's terrible thing to think. Am I losing my mind? Tommen is a child, how dare I think something like- But Joffrey's voice cut through her thoughts.

"She told me to behave myself around you and Myrcella! DOES THAT SOUND LIKE NOTHING TO YOU?" Whack, went the scepter again.

Tommen cried loudly, his fists balled and head hung down. "Joffy, I didn't, I didn't-"

"It's against the realm to lie to a king!" Joffrey bellowed. "It's TREASON!"

"I hardly said a thing, Joffy, I swear! I told her about the fire, I was scared and I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

The fire? thought Sansa nervously. Gods, what's Joffrey done now?

"Well," said Joffrey with a thin smile, "that doesn't sound like nothing. Does it?" He pulled back his hand again and Sansa drew a breath, clenching her hands at her sides.

"NO!" she screamed, and the echo of her own voice down the hall of the throne room put a turn in her stomach.

At the sound of her shout, King Joffrey dropped the scepter onto the ground with a crack. Tommen leapt up and ran out of the throne room, brushing past Sansa as he went. "No?" asked Joffrey loudly, turning toward the entrance and fixing Sansa with a wide-eyed stare that sent shivers throughout her entire body. "DID. YOU. SAY. NO?" he screamed, and Sansa realized right then how poor a decision this had been. King Joffrey was in one of his completely rageful moods, raving insanity, one of those moods where he ordered people to be hanged or chopped to bits and pieces. There would be no getting out of this unless she thought fast and even then the odds were not in her favor.

"It's just- he's a little boy, Joffrey, I mean, your grace! Surely you wouldn't have a little boy as your opponent. You'd be much better matched with a man your own size!" Sansa said quickly, her voice coming out in a cracked squeak. He's going to wring your neck with his own hands.

"Come here," Joffrey commanded, waving her forward. "Approach your king!"

Sansa ducked her head down, going red in the face as she walked forward. She wondered where Joffrey's men were, and whether Joffrey would dare try something in the open. He just nearly beat Tommen! He will do the same to me. Worse, if the Hound is right! He said Joffrey has tasted blood now. But I think Joffrey has had a taste for blood since long ago. I should have kept my mouth shut, I could have gotten help, stayed hidden!

"What gives you the right to speak to me so?" asked Joffrey, eyes flashing. His mouth turned down in an intense frown. "It's improper to shout at a king, particularly to tell him No."

"I have no right to speak to you like that, or at all, your grace," Sansa whispered, her entire body shaking.

"That is right," said Joffrey plainly, flexing his fingers. He gave her a look-over and glared deeper. "Your words are sweet and full of respect yet you still dishonor me. I told you I did not wish to look at you. Didn't I? I told you it was part of your lesson and that I'd come to you if I so pleased. Did I not?"

Sansa swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat as though she had swallowed a fruit pit. "You did, your grace," she managed to say, feeling her legs quaking as the king strode toward her, gliding as if he were a snake preparing to strike her. "It's just- I hate to see squabbling. It reminds me of my little siblings, they were always arguing. Don't you think your mother could have settled it? I'm sure Tommen didn't mean offense- he's such a good boy-"

"Oh, yes, he's a good boy," said Joffrey with a roll of his eyes, "a good, boring, foolish boy. My mother thinks he is as asinine as I do. And I'd like to keep it that way. My mother also does not need to know everything that happens in this castle. I'd think you would understand that." A tight little sneer formed on Joffrey's smooth face and Sansa felt herself blushing hot.

"Your grace, I meant no harm against you-you obviously can do what you wish," she said quickly, her eyes flicking from side to side. There was nowhere to run or hide, nothing but wide, open space. "Whatever you wish."

Joffrey stepped closer to her. He was close enough that she smelled him, that clean-clothes, honeyed, musky scent. It rocked her stomach as he took another stepped and placed a hand on her waist. His jade eyes narrowed into slits, the pouty, thin mouth curved into a mocking smile. When he spoke, she could smell the faint hint of sweet wine on him and she shuddered as he moved his mouth into her ear, licking her earlobe in a flicking motion. "And we know what would happen if everyone knew what you did," the king said in a hot whisper, running his hand from her waist to her behind. Sansa stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes shutting tight as she tried to think of something to do, some way to escape. "Don't we?" he rasped, kissing her ear lightly.

"Yes," Sansa whispered, her eyes screwed shut. She tried to focus on the patterns behind her eyelids: those stars and bright colors, she wanted to be where they were, some place far away, shrouded in darkness, surrounded by swirls, somewhere away from Joffrey and the queen and maybe Arya would be there, alive, and Mother, and Robb and Bran and Rickon and the others, and they'd try to be happy again, forget all this business, and they'd forgive Sansa for her foolishness, for her betrayal of the family, they'd take her back, and they'd never let him have her again.

"Because if they did," Joffrey was saying, "you'd be as worthless as those whores I played with after my Name Day and no one will ever, ever want you." His voice took on a high-pitched, lazy tone of joviality. "You certainly won't marry. You'd only be fit for a brothel, or else I'd keep you here for my own amusement for as long as I wish. It's lucky for you I still let you live here now, that I still wish to marry you. Don't you see how fortunate you are?"

"Yes," Sansa muttered, nodding, as Joffrey once again put his mouth to her ear and kissed her there. She moaned, squirming in his grasp. She felt a pulsing feeling between her legs and her stomach did a somersault. No, no, no, please , no-

"You like that," Joffrey said with a scornful laugh and pinched her thigh. "Say you like it," he muttered, that kind, clear, tone tricking her brain. But I know what you are. I know you. "Say it!" he hissed, pinching her harder.

"No," snapped Sansa, ignoring the wobbling of her thighs, and her eyes flashed open as soon as she realized her hideous mistake.

Joffrey moved fast, gripping her hard by the wrists and pulling her close, his teeth gritted and his eyes angry. "You filthy little cunt," he hissed, "I should have you beaten. Better yet, I'll do it myself!" His voice was suddenly high and enthusiastic, like he'd gotten a new toy. He turned, obviously trying to calculate how to get his scepter. A smile flickered on his face again. "Fetch it," he said, gesturing, "fetch my scepter and bring it to me-"

"Please, please," Sansa begged, her voice warbling. She shut her eyes again, trying to say a silent prayer.

"FETCH IT," hollered Joffrey, but then suddenly, he shoved her off of him. Sansa stumbled to the floor, eyes opening at once as she caught herself with her hands.

"What's the meaning of this?"

Sansa breathed a sigh at the sound of Lord Tyrion's voice. He can't have seen much, and Joffrey wouldn't dare continue in front of him! Thank you, thank you, thank you for listening!

"Nothing," Joffrey whined and Sansa looked up in time to see him stomping his foot. She wished she could roll her own eyes at him, slap him hard across the face; even Bran didn't act this way and he was much younger than Joffrey! "I told her it was improper, that we're not to be married yet and so I pushed her off me-"

"Ah, how pious of you, my dear nephew, " the little lord said, his articulate voice ringing out across the room. He paused. "Although, your logic is somewhat flawed. As her betrothed, could you pleased be kind enough to help Lady Sansa back up off the floor?"

"I'm fine," Sansa said quietly, running her fingers through her hair and smoothing her gown before rising to her feet. Lord Tyrion was looking up at the both of them with an obviously skeptical expression. Sansa felt her face growing hot and she averted her gaze.

"Why are you here?" Joffrey demanded.

"I heard your very explosive voice from the opposite side of King's Landing. It is quite impressive. You really are quite talented in the area of shouting! No doubt a trait you picked up from my beloved sister, she used to positively make my ears ring, it was splendid-"

"Did my brother tattle? Did he go get you?" snarled Joffrey.

Lord Tyrion gave a small sigh. "If I say yes, are you going to feed him to a hungry bear?"

Joffrey let out an angry howl, sounding much like a wild animal himself. "EVERYONE ALWAYS TATTLES ON ME! I DID NOTHING WRONG! HE WAS A LIAR! WHY DOES EVERYONE WISH TO RUIN MY LIFE?" he roared.

"One of the world's great mysteries, I suppose," Tyrion said good-naturedly. "I suppose you have kingly duties to attend to, and I must escort Sansa back to her chambers. Come, Sansa," he said, gesturing.

"Don't try to speak to me until I call for you! Don't even look at me!" King Joffrey called out as she hurried off after the little lord. "Remember what I told you!"

I'll never forget. How could I? I'm yours, you ruined me, and I'm dead if you get bored. Which will likely be soon, as I've made you furious today. Sansa set her jaw and tried to refrain from reacting, deciding she was much too lucky. First, the Hound had attempted to rescue her and now Tyrion had saved her from another beating at the king's hands. The Gods had answered her prayers for now, but at what price? She was going to use up all her chances and then she'd be left with absolutely nothing.

"Whatever it is he told you, do not pay attention to it. I can tell you, without any further knowledge, that it was nothing of value. I said it once and I will say it again. You do not need to succumb to his wrath. Call for help next time. I will always take the heat for you. I am not the favorite uncle, but I do discipline that boy more than anyone else around this place," Tyrion said firmly, stopping Sansa in the hallway and touching his hand to her arm.

She cringed at his touch, not wanting it, not wanting anyone's hands on her. "I'm sorry, my lord-"

"Oh, in the seven hell's!" Tyrion barked, sounding exasperated as he smacked his own forehead. "I'm not asking for an apology! It isn't your fault. You're a child and you don't deserve this mistreatment-"

"King Joffrey is my beloved and-"

Tyrion sighed, and held up his hand. "You are smart, Lady Sansa. But my heart does rather ache for you. That is all I shall say." He gave her a bow and let her depart to her corridor.

Sansa ran the entire way to her chambers. When she'd shut her door and secured it, she flopped onto her bed, kicking off her shoes, feeling disgusting shame shoot through her body. She tried to close her eyes but the swirls could not distract her. She tried to lose herself by staring at the canopy above her, focusing on the crimson flowered pattern, but that also did not work. Nothing she could think of could make her forget the physical response King Joffrey had given her; it was a feeling she'd experienced a bit before, a few times on her own and once or twice in the company of others. This had been stronger than ever. Why? she thought, trying to rationalize. Am I sick? I need to pray, I need someone to take me to the Godswood to pray, right now, but I cannot leave, I don't wish to leave my room again, but I need to get away from here, I need to get back to Winterfell, or Shae, Shae might know how to help me...

But all of the rationality in the world couldn't take her mind off of the slight throbbing coming from the gap between her legs, from that place. Sansa could not hold back and instead of thinking screaming, pleading thoughts, she lost all resistance and very slowly began to rub her legs together. She wanted to reason with herself, to scream at herself to stop, but it was as if sparks were going off down inside her core. It felt too good. Her rubbing began to get frantic; there was a warm, slick feeling between her legs and when she tentatively worked her hand under her gown and pressed a finger inside herself, she was astonished to find that she was very wet there. Unsure of what this meant, Sansa put it out of her mind and slowly began to touch herself.

You like that, said Joffrey's voice inside her head, ringing in her ears. She thought about his hot breath in her ear and his hand snaking around her waist, fingers stroking and then pinching. Say you like it.

Sansa let out a strangled scream before pulling her hand out of her skirts and dissolving into tears. She did not eat supper. She did not speak. She only prayed for forgiveness, and hoped she still had a few more chances left.

...

"Lady Sansa, it is time to rise! Lady Sansa! I've brought breakfast, and the queen requests you are dressed for formality! Lady Sansa!"

Blearily, Sansa tried to drown out Shae's voice by grabbing a pillow and putting it over her head. She'd slept poorly, all night waking up and remembering the disgusting thoughts she'd had yesterday. The way she'd touched herself and thought of him. Even now, her face burned.

"I don't want to!" she snapped, fully aware of how petulant and idiotic she sounded.

"Lady Sansa, you must! Princess Myrcella is leaving today! She's being shipped to Dorne and you must go with the royal family to the docks! These are orders! Now hurry! We must make you look presentable. You cannot see the princess off with a pillow over your head-"

"Why is the princess leaving? Why must I go? Do I really have to?" Sansa asked, finally throwing the pillow down and averting her eyes from Shae, convinced her handmaiden would see the dirty thoughts she'd had in her eyes.

Shae gave a quiet laugh and began to take out dresses. "So many questions," she said, "all I've been told is there are orders for you to be there. I assume it is because you will be part of the family soon? Anyway, they are all leaving to the docks in an hour's time! You must rise-" Shae grabbed the blankets and tugged.

"But King Joffrey told me yesterday he doesn't want to look at me," Sansa protested, pulling the blankets back. "I'm afraid, Shae- I don't want to disrespect him." Or see him ever! I can't look upon his face without thinking of what I've done!

"You must go," Shae urged in a firm tone. "You have orders to be there. You are fond of the little princess. Go see her off, Sansa. She will be happy to see you."

With a sigh, Sansa agreed that she would like to see Myrcella off, but she had a sense of dread as she got ready for the day.

Sansa walked to the docks behind the queen, Joffrey and the prince and princess, surrounded by the Kingsguard. The Hound glowered at her and she kept her eyes forward, breathing deeply and hoping with all of her heart that she could avoid Joffrey. Princess Myrcella was crying quietly and Sansa gave her a tight hug and wished her well as soon as they reached the water. She positioned herself between the Hound and Ser Boros, trying to stare ahead, not wanting to look at the king, terrified she'd get that feeling between her legs again. She hated him even more now, if that was possible. As soon as she found herself completely focused on Myrcella's departure, Joffrey's cold, sneering tone broke the silence:

"Sansa. Come here," he commanded, and with great reluctance, she did just as she was told. She stood close enough to Joffrey to hear him, but stared straight ahead at the water. "Just so you know, I had absolutely nothing to do with having you here this morning. I told Mother I wanted you to stay behind, but she was convinced you should be here. I'm still angry with you," he finished curtly.

"Yes, your grace," Sansa said in a hushed tone, bowing her head. She wasn't certain what to say or what to feel but it seemed Joffrey was pleased with standing in silence today. Thank goodness. She wondered if he even cared that his only sister was being sent off, but when he made a disparaging remark about Prince Tommen crying she figured she should have known he wouldn't have any sort of feeling about it. She didn't even regret saying aloud that she'd seen him cry once, although she lied very quickly when Joffrey asked what she'd said. The air was thick and tense, and when it was finally time to return to the castle Sansa was relieved. As Sansa joined the group of ladies from the court and walked behind King Joffrey, a crowd of peasants began to shout at them. At first, it seemed cordial enough but then the mood grew sour. The voices grew from a dull roar to a crescendo, and suddenly Sansa felt very, very terrified. . .

To Be Continued