JOFFREY XIII

Shock had riddled the scorned Prince's body when they brought him the news. He remained awake into the late hours of the night, contemplating it all.

The Tyrells...treason, he thought, knowing the accusation wasn't farfetched but still struggling to take it in. Who do they want me to marry now? He missed Sansa dearly, not having seen her for days. William had granted him freedom of the castle, but he wasn't to attend court or meetings of the small council...or his love. She remained in her quarters or the Godswood, Sarafine and Cersei visiting her often. I'm so sorry, he wanted to tell her, I'm so sorry it didn't work.

In truth, she shouldn't have been punished at all. The whole plan was Joffrey's idea, all she did was agree out of love for him. Why could William, of all people, not see that? Joffrey wondered. His eyes still carried some bruising from the fists of his brother. Maybe that I deserved, he reflected.

As he stared at himself in the looking glass, he noted something else in the background. Paper, he saw, turning to see it wedged between two apples in his fruit bowl. Eagerly, he marched toward it and plucked it out. Joffrey, was all it read on the outside. The page was folded, though not sealed. Suspicious. He opened it up, squinting at it in the dim light of his own fire.

You're the only one who can save me, please, the note read, a rose sketched crudely in lead at the bottom. Damn you, he thought as he scrunched it up and tossed it into the dwindling flames of his fire.

In the dead of night, the King's "traitor" brother made way for the Black Cells.
"Have a larger fire burning when I return," he told his guards, "it's said that the dungeons carry a certain chill to them."

The guard hadn't just been doubled on his door, but around the entire castle. Since Olenna and Mace and all the other Tyrells had fled like cowards, no one knew what to expect or what to look for. But nevertheless, the search continued. The air grew colder the closer he got to the cells.

I've always hated this place, he remembered as he began descending the ugly steps, why in seven hells am I here, again? He didn't know what he felt for the girl, only that it wasn't warm and wasn't good.

When he found her, Margaery Tyrell was laid in her cell, broken and bruised.
"I got your note," he announced his arrival.
"My prince," she smiled, "oh, my prince, you came!"
In the light of his lantern, she had become ugly. Dirt and ash seemed to smear across her face, and her hair was a bird's nest of knots and tangles. Nothing like my Northern lady, he thought, with joy. This is what a traitor looks like...once you strip away the fineries. She laughed with joy and tears began to stain her face, though when she went to touch him, he found himself stepping back.
"You shouldn't touch me," he informed.
"Do you fear me?"
"No," he shook his head, "I shouldn't even be here."
"But you are a prince, yes?" she began to play at him again.
"Quit that," he snapped, "I'm not blind to your manipulations anymore. What is it that you want?"
"Can you not read?" she laughed, "save me, Joffrey, rescue me from this horrid cell that is clearly not at all fit for a lady, let alone any human. Tell me you don't feel the cold."
"Maybe it's what you deserve," he spoke, boldly, "if what Sarafine says is true."
"I don't even know what she says, how can I respond to that?" she found the courage to stand...or maybe energy. How often do prisoners get fed? I best thank my brother for not sending me here.
"Did you or did you not try to have her poisoned and my brother killed?"
"Me? Of course not," she sighed, "but of my family? Best ask them instead. I'm sure they'll be far clearer in their confirmation. Tyrell swords speak stern well if I'm to take King William's word for it."

Her words struck fear in him.
"Do you mean to declare war?"
"From beneath the Keep? No, Joffrey, I do not mean to declare war...not to you. You're not the King," she reminded, her tone condescending.
"I'm the prince, you said so yourself."
"That I did," she sighed, sitting again, "which is why you can free me. Or call your brother here so I may formally do that which you so fear. I can't see much in your torch light but the colour did just drain from your face awful quick."
"I will do neither," he asserted, "I cannot help you. I refuse to."
"Then I hope that sword will come of use to you," she pointed to it and he tightened his hand around the hilt.
"I will not bring my brother here, either. You will rot, until the day of your trial when your fate is decided," he spoke, angry at her taunts.
"Not even for your future bride?" she batted her eyes, "how cruel."
"You are not my future bride. I'm to wed Sansa."
"That's going well for you so far. Tell me, how bad were the bruises? They're healing now but-"
"You're only bitter because you lost. I will wed her, make no mistake," confidence boomed through his voice.
"Good luck with that," she laughed. Now he was furious. Has she forgotten who she is speaking to?
"What?"
"How long since you've seen your dear lady?" Margaery pushed.
"I'm not permitted to see her," he admitted.
"Forgive me, I forgot. Allow me to rephrase," she stood, "how long since anyone has seen her? The godswood is terribly unguarded...how unfortunate."

He heard a howl that sent a chill through his bones.
"You rotten bitch," he charged forward and grasped her by the throat, "where have you taken her?"
"I've taken her no where. Look around you, I'm in a cell, remember? And if I've committed treason and Sansa has too then she deserves a cell just as pretty," she choked through his hold.
"Where is she?" he smacked her head against the wall.
"Go look," she laughed. Joffrey tossed her to the ground with a grunt and exited the cell with haste.
"Guards, with me!" he demanded, furiously.

Thoughts ran through his mind, though he processed nought of them as he marched to Sansa's chambers and burst the door open.
"Where is she?!" he demanded.
"Prince Joffrey," a guard tried to object his presence, but he shoved the man away and instructed his own men.
"The godswood, check the godswood!" he ordered.

When they fell upon it, it was as Joffrey had imagined. Empty, but for Lady the direwolf: injured and howling in despair.

- A/N -

Well, that could be a problem...!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter (yay for the return of twice a week updates !). What are the Tyrells planning? Let me know what you think in a review :)

Also...lmao...I got the funniest guest review (it's since been removed) last week claiming that some of my "chapters" were less than a thousand words (the review itself read "52 chapters for only 93,000 words that doesn't look good chapters with not even 1000 words")...I'll let you guys work that one out.

Have a lovely week guys! Hope you all enjoyed easter (if you celebrate)!