For once in her life, Sansa was speechless. She could not believe what had just happened. Her face stung where Joffrey had slapped her, and her eyes were wet with un-shed tears. Her handsome prince, the one she had dreamed about for so long, had done something no man should ever do; he had hit a woman.
She looked up at the prince, half expecting to see some sort of remorse in his eyes, but no. They were cold and completely void of regret. He knew what he did was wrong, but he didn't care. Sansa could see that much. "Why did you-" she began, but Joffrey cut her off but raising his hand threateningly.
"You stupid girl!" he seethed, "why the hell did you squeal at breakfast? Everyone could have found out what we were doing, and then how much trouble would we have been in huh?"
Sansa stopped herself from pointing out that they hadn't been doing anything. It had all been him. Not that she would tell him that.
"I'm sorry." She managed to squeak out. "It won't happen again."
Joffrey's eyes narrowed at her, as if he was trying to access whether or not she was telling the truth. "Okay. Now let's walk." With that he began to stroll of in a seemingly good mood.
Sansa watched him walk away with wide eyes. How in the name of the gods could someone's personality change that quickly? Barely a minute ago he was raging, and now he seemed better than fine. Confused, and eager not to anger him again, Sansa quickly began to walk, fast enough so she could catch up with him. She kept her head down as she walked, and a hand on her cheek. It burned bright from where his hand had connected, and stung like a thousand needles pricking her skin.
"It's a lovely day, is it not?" said Joffrey, smiling sweetly as he looked up at the sky, which was for once, clear and bright, despite the bitter cold in the air.
"Yes your majesty." said Sansa quietly. She knew she must answer, or face another slap. Even though she was sure that the slap had been a brief lapse in Joffrey's judgement, she was still wary. Better to be safe than sorry after all.
Sudden noises close by made both of the teenagers look up. Children's voices were shouting playfully, yelling at each other and giggling non-stop. Sansa looked over to a clearing that was only a path away, and saw Arya and a young boy, probably a friend from the village, playing. She narrowed her eyes at her sister. Sansa was keen to avoid her at all costs as she was keen to keep Joffrey away from anything that could worsen his mood again.
"Why don't we go back to the castle?" suggested Sansa with a sweet, hopefully flirtatious smile. Joffrey didn't even bother looking at her, his eyes already glued to the playing children.
"I don't think so." He said with a small smirk playing at his lips. "Who is that boy playing with your sister."
Sansa squinted at the children, and saw that it was one of Arya's friends, a boy from the village. "Just the butcher's boy I think." Said Sansa. She was intrigued to know why Joffrey was so interested in her sister and her friend, but did not dare ask, in fear of another slap.
"Boy!" Joffrey suddenly yelled. Both Arya and her friend looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion on their game. "What on earth do you think you are doing, drawing swords with a lady from a noble house?"
The boy just stood there, dumbstruck and not sure what to say. Sansa knew that this boy often played with Arya and had never been asked this question before; he was quite at a loss for words. When the boy remained silent Joffrey's eyes narrowed and he began marching towards the children. "I asked you a question!" he snapped. He reached out a hand and grabbed the boys collar, pulling him off the floor.
The boy's lip trembled as if he was going to cry. "I always play with her my lord."
This made Joffrey even angrier. "I am your Prince no your Lord!" he snapped. His seething snear then turned into a sly smile. "You think you can fight? Then go on, pick up your weapon."
The boy's weapon was nothing more than a long stick, which would stand no chance against the heavy sword Joffrey now held in his hands.
"Leave him alone!" hissed Arya, stepping forward to defend her friend.
"Arya stay out of it!" snapped Sansa, giving her sister a warning look. Not only did she not want Arya to make Joffrey angry, she did not want her sister to get hurt.
Joffrey raised his sword and dragged it across the boy's cheek leaving a trail of blood. Sansa's mouth opened in horror, but she could not sum up the courage to protest. Then, quick as a flash, Arya struck Joffrey across the back with her wooden pole, allowing her friend to run away.
"Arya!" cried Sansa as Joffrey feel to the ground. He quickly scrambled to his feet and pointed his sword threateningly at Arya. "You little bitch!"
Sansa just watched on, at a complete loss for what to do. "Stop it! Stop it both of you! You're spoiling everything!"
Before either of them could respond, a blur of fur ran past Sansa, jumping on Joffrey and attaching it's mouth to his hand. Joffrey screamed in pain as he tried to yank his hand away from the dire wolf. All his attempts were in vain, however, as the wolf stayed firmly attached to his hand. Sansa had no idea what to do. She just stood there, mouth open in a silent scream, watching as Joffrey's hand was mauled. Arya and her friends had run, leaving Sansa alone with the prince.
When the wolf finally let go and ran off into the trees, Sansa ran to the prince's side.
"My brave prince..." she began, reaching a hand out to touch his face. He jerked away before she could touch him, and glared at her through the tears that had begun to fall.
"Go and get someone you stupid bitch!" he snapped.
Sansa recoiled, taken aback by his words, but none the less turned to go and find someone.
