A/N: Someone suggested it and I thought I'd try it. Always open to suggestions!
Baratheon Queen
Sansa felt bile rise in her throat and she reached for her wine to wash it away. She found herself relying more and more on the drink as time continued in her marriage. What a pair the two of them made, an old, widening drunk and a pale child, also on her way to becoming as dependent on the drink as her husband. Right now, it was the sight of her husband groping every servant girl that passed him that was sending Sansa to the wine, but over the past two years, Robert had given her plenty of reasons.
Why her father thought this was a good match for her, Sansa would never know. Once the Lannister queen had passed in childbirth those years ago delivering sweet little Tommen, King Robert had been on the hunt for a new woman to call queen. He had made his way north, to his oldest and truest friend. Eddard Stark had welcomed him with open arms and asked what he could do to serve his king. They had all expected him to consult with Lord Stark about marriageable ladies of the north, but King Robert had already decided. He wanted a Stark bride. He had missed his chance with Lyanna but was determined to call a Stark woman his queen.
Her father had stared at his friend, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. There were no other Stark women but his two daughters. Arya, who was only a child and Sansa herself, barely flowered. They had all been shocked by the king's request, and although her father apparently tried to convince him otherwise, it had been the king's orders. Sansa remembered how furious her mother had been. How she had cried and held her the night before the wedding. How Catelyn had refused to even speak to her husband since he had reluctantly agreed. Even to this day, she didn't think her parent's marriage had ever truly healed.
The wedding night had been about what she had expected from the fat, old man. He had climbed on top of her, reeking of wine and blubbering incoherently before pushing her legs apart unceremoniously and taking her innocence. She had cried afterwards, as he had snored beside her. Ever since that night though, she had refused to let him make her cry. Not that he truly ever meant to. She continued as the meek, gentle queen her predecessor had never been and that had endeared her to him. He was kind when he wanted to be, and when he was deep in his cups and his temper was flaring she just avoided him. Whatever formula they had worked to an extent.
Still, as she watched from across the great hall her husbands hands sneaking up the servant girl's skirts she couldn't help feeling bitter. This man had taken her from her family, destroyed the happy home in Winterfell, and continued to ravage her body often in the hopes of another prince with Stark blood and the only thing she could do to dull the pain was drown in the arbor gold in front of her. She took another swig, wondering how Cersei Lannister had been able to handle it.