Iona had spent the next two weeks devoting her time to the poor. It shocked her to think that no one before her had thought to do this, as the poor outnumbered the rich - so it was necessary for a good reign. She had divided her time between wandering the streets, spending time at orphanages and the soup shelter that she had put together. The shelter had been running flawlessly - there had been some trouble but now guards did regular rounds here and there had been nothing since. The cooks worked relentlessly to provide a constant stream of soup, but had assured Iona that they did it because they wanted too. As she went she was forced to sing Joffrey's praises. She has to make him sound good too, even though I'm reality, she wanted to smack him.
It also happened to be an excuse to keep out of her sister's way for the time being. They had not reacted well to their wolves being snatched from them, but they would get over it in time. Besides, it was much better than the alternative. They would recover from this - they most likely would not have recovered from watching them be brutally slaughtered in front of their eyes. Nor would have the public.

For the past few days, she had stalked the torturers in the dungeon. The tunnels in the wall lead all over the castle - including the dungeons. From them she had carefully watched and studied the people. Iona learnt when they started and finished, and when the watchmen changed. She did this all in the hope to sneak within their ranks. She was so desperate to see someone suffer at her hand. This 'Prince's betrothed' persona was utterly monotonous - she needed some relief. Being kind and caring could only last for so long without a distraction.
Tonight, Ser Ilyn Payne would be questioning a criminal, with a weasel named Jorrick Astonbury. His stature was wiry, and weak - he genuinely looked like a weasel. He wasn't one for torture - he was there to ask the questions whilst Ser Ilyn did the dirty work. Astonbury didn't have the strength to do anything interesting.
That night, she carefully made her way to the dungeons, and as the weasel walked arrogantly past an alcove, her hands shot out and dragged him in. Slamming his head against the wall, he was instantly unconscious. Iona could not help but laugh. What a weakling.
With the hood adorned upon her head, she strolled out confidently, leaving his body lying in a heap.
Her tunic was baggy enough as to not cling to her breasts, and she could easily pass for a man in her attire.
In the torture chamber, Ser Ilyn already had a man spread eagled on the table. Grinning, she rubbed her hands together in excitement.
Knowing he could not tell anyone, she slowly lifted her hood and revealed herself to Ser Ilyn, smirking. With a look of evil glee in her eye, she quietly put her finger to her lips in a 'Shush' gesture before dropping her hood again.
He clenched his jaw but did nothing else.
She strolled over to the rack of instruments and studied them carefully. Which to use?

She started with the hot iron. It was glowing red, and with glee, she lightly placed it on the man's shin. As expected, he screamed and Iona couldn't help but laugh. She had waited so long for this. As if it was a clothes brush, she rolled it up his leg, slowly, all the way up to his loin cloth. She did not actually know what he was being tortured for.
From the extent of the torture, she had assumed it was something treasonous and Iona would not allow for treason under any circumstances. "Who do you serve?" She growled, so that her voice would sound like that of a man's.
"No one!" He screamed. That was the wrong answer.
"You serve the King!"
"Yes! Yes! I serve the king!" He cried, and Iona wasn't about to let up that easily. "You do not seem to be telling the truth. You will not leave here until you swear yourself truly, and honestly to the King!" She yelled, digging the hot poker into the base of his foot as she came to the end. "YES!" He shrieked, flailing. "THE KING!"
Iona would not let up until she had the chance to carve the word 'CRAVEN' into his chest. The screams that came from him made her grin from ear to ear. It really had been too long.
"Throw him back in his cell." She spat, before storming out of the dungeons and back towards the tunnels.
She made sure to drag the unconscious body of the weasel from the alcove into the middle of the hallway before leaving. Finally satisfied, she marched back up to her room.

The energy and excitement from that was relentless. She found herself unable to stay still for a good half hour. There was something else she needed to get done. The only downside to this mood is that she acted impulsively - and that was exactly what she would do now.
Double-checking that her door was bolted, she once again disappeared into the tunnels and found her way through a familiar root - the root to Joffrey's chambers. Barely listening for a second to see if anyone was within, she heaved the door open and stormed into his room.
He had been at his desk, though whatever he was doing went unseen by Iona. His head shot round, to her and his hard features relaxed when he saw it was her.
"Iona," He stood up to meet her, and without addressing him as she should have, she approached him.
Get what you want by using what you have. Grasping his face between her two hands she did exactly what he wanted her to do. She kissed him hard upon the lips. At first he did not react, but then, he pulled her body flush against his. Making her voice as sensual as possible, she pulled away and breathed,
"Tell me you love me, Joffrey Baratheon." Trying to coerce him, she raked her hands through his hair. Taking her face in his hands, as she had done to him before, he looked into her eyes and declared,
"I love you, Iona Stark." As he kissed her again, all she could think of was how easily the Prince was manipulated, and how he gave out his emotions far too willingly to her.