Finally, a chapter! Sorry for the super long wait… :S

Special thanks to Athena-Noctua-Bubo for betaying this chapter! :D

On Monday morning, Sansa stood before her mirror, smiling to herself. She looked so beautiful, more than ever, and though it was undeniably vain of her, she couldn't stop herself from admiring her reflection. Never before had her skin been so clear and glowing and the blue of her eyes so vibrant. Her hair bounced healthily all the way down to the small of her back, like she was a model from a conditioner commercial. On top of that, she felt so good, better than she had in a very long time. It was all exceedingly intoxicating and she might have spent the whole day engrossed in self-admiration had it not been from her father calling her.

"Sansa, come down stairs," his voice boomed through the grand staircase.

"Just a minute!" Sansa cried out. Gods, what time is it? she wondered, her eyes widening as they fell on her clock radio. By the Seven, but it was later than she thought! Without missing a beat, she put on her jacket and scarf, grabbed her backpack and hurried downstairs.

"Morning, Dad!" she said as she arrived in the hallway, forcing herself to smile brightly at him.

Ned smiled stiffly back at her, and gestured for her to follow him outside. When they were both standing on the front porch, he nodded at the vines, which had grown quite impressively throughout the last few days. "Flowers would be nice," he stated, before glancing down at her.

Sighing deeply, Sansa rolled her eyes like she was exasperated. Deep down though, she was in truth thrilled at the prospect, but she knew better than to reveal herself. "Alright," she answered as petulantly as she could.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her father's demand and in no time, several pink and white buds sprouted all over the luxuriant green vine. Soon, the buds blossomed, their large, delicate petals opening like they were living, breathing creatures with wills of their own even as a thick and rich perfume filled the surrounding air. To Sansa's delight, she caught a glimpse of her father's enchantment before he remembered himself and hid it with a frown. As their eyes met, she did likewise and assumed a desolate air of her own.

Her well was still far too full, therefore before she got her customary inspection, Sansa tapped a little more into it and built a very thin veil all around her core, just like the Hound had taught her to, to dim the apparent strength of her power. Once more, the stratagem was a success.

"That's good, Sansa. You can head to school now," her dad told her.

"Thanks, Dad," Sansa replied flatly before walking away as nonchalantly as she could.

She was always afraid he would see right through her trickery, though Sandor assured her it'd be impossible so long as she upheld her spell. Thankfully once more, he was right, and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief when she at last was out of Ned's sight.

Without losing a beat, she let go of the veil she had created and unleashed her full power. With it, her hair instantly became even bouncier, in a hairstyle that was in fashion at the moment, and her school uniform moved around her to hug her body to perfection, like it was tailor-made. Makeup appeared on her face, light and natural yet done to a professional level she'd long dreamed of mastering.

Gazing at her reflection in a parked car's window, Sansa smiled to herself, satisfied. She was just about to bring her face nearer to have a better look when a snort came from just behind her.

"Careful, Sansa. If you move any closer, you might set off the car's alarm!"

Blushing, Sansa straightened her back and glanced at her sister over her shoulder. "Don't exaggerate! I was being careful," she said before averting her gaze and resuming her walk.

Arya caught up with her, her eyes busy examining Sansa. "This is a bit much, don't you think, Sansa? You look just like you just came out of a hair salon. You don't need all that, not to go to school."

"Really? Have you ever taken a good look at Margaery? She wears more makeup than I do now just to go pick up her mail on her front porch in the morning," Sansa answered. "And by the way, who are you to tell me that? There's just as much care in your look as in mine, no matter how dishevelled it is."

As always, her sister's eyes were smeared with black kohl and her black dyed hair was an utter mess - though from having witnessed her sister preparing herself in the morning, Sansa knew it was done with great care.

Arya furrowed her brows dismissively. "Perhaps, but I don't waste my Skill on my looks at least. This is all done by my own two hands. You shouldn't have to do it either."

"Why not? I have more power than I can use, but Dad won't let me infuse even a drop of it in the family business. He'd rather make me waste it growing all the vines and shrubs there's to be found in the garden and front lawn. If it's to be so, I don't see why I couldn't have a little fun with it. You'd do the same."

"Maybe," Arya grumbled, shrugging. "Whatever, it's not like I really care anyway."

Sansa rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation. This was so typical of her sister these days: to pretend like she didn't give a shit about anything. Yet in spite of how annoying her constant show of indifference could be, Sansa was certainly grateful to have someone like Arya around from whom she didn't have to keep secrets. They may bicker most often than not, Arya was trustworthy and always had her back when it truly mattered, which was precious in these hard times. And so as they walked the remainder of the way to school together, Sansa did her best to be a good sister to Arya and made an effort not to judge her too much as she told her of the new group of rogue friends she hung out with and of all the anti-capitalist graffiti they did around town.

"Be careful not to get caught," Sansa told her as they parted ways in the school's hallway.

Turning to look her straight in the eyes, Arya shot her a very honest look. "You mostly, Sansa. Be careful."

"Don't worry about me," Sansa replied, though she didn't feel as confident as sounded. "I'll be just fine."

Her first class went more than well. Sansa felt in total control, like she was on top of the world. Never had mathematics been so easy to master before; she understood every single new notion her teacher introduced with not an ounce of difficulty and would not have needed to take notes seeing how crystal clear everything was. How could she ever forget any of it? Yet Sansa did it anyway, if only to pass the time as she waited for her classmates to be done with all of their stupid questions. She used pens of five different colours, as well as all the highlighters she had in her pencil case, and added intricate little drawings around the text. Her notebook was a true work of art by the time she was done, one of which she was very proud of and looked forward to lending to those classmates she knew for a fact would ask for them later on. Her notes were always very coveted.

When the morning break came, Sansa headed towards the cafeteria to meet Pod and Jeyne. They would eat their snacks and chat as they did most mornings. Sansa wondered what they'd think of her hair; it did look amazing. Though she kept her gaze straight ahead of her, she could tell those she passed by as she strolled through the long corridor discreetly glanced her way, some with admiration, others envy.

"Sansa! Look at you!" Mr. Baelish 's voice called her. "You're glowing!"

Oh, gosh! Not him! Sansa thought, her whole frame tensing. The last thing she wanted just then was to stay and have a chat with her school principal, yet it would be impolite of her to keep going. Reluctantly, she halted and turned to face him.

"Thank you, Mr. Baelish," she said, forcing herself to smile. "That's too kind of you. How are you doing?"

"I'm always doing well when I see you, sweetling. And I was only telling you the truth, you're breathtaking. Come, let me have a look at you…" he told her softly, beckoning her over.

Mr. Baelish stood in his office entrance and Sansa did as he bade, though she took care not to come too close either for fear he'd invite her in.

As she did, his eyes went up and down her body, in a way that made her skin crawl. "Wow, you really have blossomed. Your power is even stronger than when I last saw you…" he whispered.

"Careful, Mr. Baelish!" Sansa murmured, glancing nervously around herself. "What if you were overheard?"

"What of it?"

Sansa looked at him, confused. "But… but Skill is not meant to be spoken of, not in public!" At once, she felt stupid for having said as much. As if Mr. Baelish was not aware of one of the most basic rules of witch law!

And indeed, he smirked at her, amused. "It takes more than a few words to revive the fear of witchcraft in the regular folk. No one believes in magic anymore, sweetling. A witch hunt is not about to happen in these times, it would take more than that to be sure."

Sansa blushed. "Of course, I know as much. But why risk it? When we meet in… in our congregation… they always tell us to keep quiet," she said in a whisper. "Secrecy is what keeps us alive."

"Yes, you've been taught well. You sound just like Maester Luwin. He'd be proud of you. That's what he always tells us indeed. But sometimes, I wonder… Why should we, people of the blood, act as if we were beneath regular mortals when we clearly are not? We hide as if our superiority was something to be ashamed of." He paused for a moment, his gaze lost.

Sansa wondered if she should use the occasion to say her goodbyes and leave immediately, and she almost did it, however Mr. Baelish spoke before she had a chance.

"I feel like our women's power is wasted, sometimes. There is so much that could be done with it…" he went on in no more than a murmur. "Take you for example. You've only just blossomed and already have all that strength at hand. It's quite amazing in fact and I wonder if…if-"

"She's glowing indeed, isn't she? She's nearly blinding," Margaery's sweet voice interrupted them.

Both Sansa and Mr. Baelish turned at once to see the later, all smiles and standing so near, it was a miracle they had not noticed her before. As always, she was gorgeous, her hair and makeup somehow even more flawless than Sansa's. How does she do it? Sansa wondered with a hint of jealousy.

"Miss Tyrell, how are you doing?" Mr. Baelish asked, straightening his back and taking a tiny step back, away from Sansa, as casually as he could. He smiled back at Margaery but his eyes were devoid of any warmth.

"I'm doing well, thank you," she answered, unphased by her principal's lukewarm welcome. "Isn't it incredible how Sansa has suddenly blossomed, just as we had all stopped expecting it? I overheard some of your conversation and have to admit I'm very impressed as well. And happy. I'm very happy for you, Sansa," she told her, grinning.

Mr. Baelish furrowed his brows ever so slightly and he tried to hide his annoyance with a forced chuckle. "I always knew Sansa had it in her. She's Cat' daughter, after all. Now, you two girls should head towards your respective classes. Second period is just about to start."

"Of course. Have a good day, Mr. Baelish," Margaery replied, linking her arm with Sansa's and leading her away.

While she was relieved her conversation with Mr. Baelish had been cut short, Sansa wasn't sure Margaery's company was such a good trade-off. She had stolen Joffrey from her after all. He might have turned out to be a total asshole, but it was still not something one was meant to do to a friend.

"Mr. Baelish is right, what has ever happened to you, Sansa?" Margaery asked when they were out of earshot.

Giggling nervously, Sansa averted her gaze and blushed deeply. "Not sure, just finally found my strength, I guess?"

"That you did. I could sense your power a good ten meters from you. That's not normal, not for someone so new to her Skill. Was there something wrong with you before? Something that prevented your well from filling up even though you had already blossomed, perhaps?"

Damned Margaery and her questions! What was Sansa to answer? "I… I really don't know. It just all of a sudden came on me." And with that, she giggled compulsively again, praying the Seven her cheeks were not as bright red as she feared they were.

For a split second, Margaery's amiable façade cracked, her lovely features hardening, but she swiftly hid her annoyance with an expression of the most convincing congeniality. "Oh, come on, Sansa! You can tell me! If you found a way to increase Skill, I really need to know!"

Such insistence was causing Sansa to regret having discarded the magic veil she wove for her father's benefit earlier this morning. It had probably been careless of her; she was attracting too much attention. There were good reasons why Dad always asked her to empty her well before she left for school, yet it felt so good to be totally free and full to the brim with power. Only now, she had to deal with the consequences of that decision.

"There's nothing more to it, I swear it! I guess I was just so behind for someone my age and so, I had to catch up!" With that, Sansa abruptly unhooked her arm from Margaery's and strode away to her classroom. "Well, time for me to go now. See you later, Margaery!"

Thankfully, the latter let her go without a word, though Sansa did not miss the took of frustration on her friend's face as she left.

The remainder of the day went on uneventfully and quickly enough, Sansa was back home. After leaving her jacket in the entryway, she hurried towards the grand staircase, longing for nothing more than her now usual pre-dinner nap. Yet as she passed by her father's office and heard him talking on the phone, her priorities changed. For some reason, she knew his conversation concerned her and so, as lightly as she could, Sansa snuck to the closed door to eavesdrop on him.

"Where is she? I never needed to talk to her more than now," she heard him speak.

A pause.

"Right. So, either we wait, or we find her where she is." A deep sigh. "Not sure I can travel all the way to the Wall at such a short notice. I'll need to think about it. Is there a phone number we can reach her at, or another way we could contact her?"

Another sigh, this one even more desperate.

"This is very inconvenient. Nan is our only hope at this point. If I have to, I'll go to the Wall myself, though I don't know when I'll be able to make it."

Nan, Sansa mused, moving away from the door as silently as she could. If anyone could undo her Evocation, it was her.

Her pulse resounding in her ears, Sansa climbed the stairs and jumped into bed as soon as she entered her room without bothering to remove her clothes. The thought of Nan getting involved troubled Sansa more than she dared admit. What if she was even more versed in the Craft than anyone was aware of and knew just the spell to break her bond with Sandor? It's impossible, Sansa reminded herself. Many times over, the Hound had assured her there was no cancelling an Evocation - their bond was forever, he often repeated to her. Sansa trusted in him - how could a demon hundreds of years old be wrong on the matter? - thus after a long moment, she finally managed to relax and fall asleep.

As was becoming her routine, Sansa awoke just in time to eat dinner with her family, however, she didn't linger at the dinning table an instant longer than necessary. Less than a half hour later in fact, Sansa was already back in her room, seated at her desk with her face tilted down over one of her textbooks. Though it might be a good idea to sleep a little more before the Hound's arrival, she simply had too much homework to do to consider it this evening. She would need to catch up some time later this week. At least, the little nap she took had revived her and she was now totally focussed on her task and making good progress.

At this time of the year, sunset came earlier, and Sansa was still deeply engrossed in her homework when full darkness came. Only as the Hound's psychic scent began filling the room did she realise the time for his daily visit had arrived. Pivoting a half-circle in her computer chair, she was met by the sight of the large fiend taking form in the centre of the room. Sansa's stomach fluttered with excitement. She knew what was coming for her and couldn't wait. How long would it be before he threw her over the bed and ravished her?

For all of her initial eagerness, as she met the Hound's eyes, Sansa's blood ran cold. They were gleaming with fury - had she done something wrong?

"What the fuck is this?" he hissed, sniffing the air around him.

"What are you talking about?" Sansa asked, knitting her brows.

Searching the room with his stare, the Hound turned his back on her to glare down at her bed, his large bat-like wings opening around him threateningly.

"That smell on your bed. It fucking stinks," he growled. Sniffing again, he recoiled ever so slightly, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Reeks like the insides of a buggering septon's arse… holy water, I think."

"Holy water?" Sansa repeated, confused.

"Did you put that there?" the Hound demanded, jerking his head to glower at her over his shoulder.

"No! No! Of course not! Why would I ever do that? It must be my parents…." Then, Sansa remembered something. "My mother… she went to the Great Sept yesterday, to take a walk she said. She must've bought it there. They sell small phials of holy water in their shop." Standing up, she took a step towards him, wringing her hands before her. "Oh, gods, Sandor, I'm so sorry! I assure you I have nothing to do with it!"

His eyes narrowing, the Hound gave her a curt nod and turned his attention to her bed. Then, in one quick movement, he seized her comforter and sheets and hurled everything out the window. Gasping, Sansa pressed her palms to her ears to protect them against the din and clenched her eyes shut even as the glass broke into a thousand pieces and flew all over the room's floor.

"Good fucking riddance," the Hound muttered through clenched teeth.

Mum's shriek echoed through the house almost immediately, followed by the sound of people running to the back door.

"Fuck them," Sandor rasped, looking out the shattered window.

The burnt corner of his mouth twitching, he lifted a large clawed hand in the air and just like that, the tumult around them was replaced by total silence.

Even with the shield Sandor had built, cold air still entered the chamber. Shivering, Sansa stepped back from the window and hugged herself. The Hound stared down at her, his eyes blazing like ambers in the night. While he was clearly angry, his irritation was not directed at her, thankfully. That much she could tell.

"If they think, they're gonna chase me away with some stupid water, like some puny little girl, your parents truly don't have a fucking clue with whom they're dealing with. Us devils hate anything holy, that's true enough, but holiness has never killed any of my kind. It just pisses us off and enhances our thirst for murder, nothing more."

Closing the gap between them, Sansa clung to his muscular arm. "Don't hurt them, I'm begging you not to. They only want to protect me."

The Hound's large frame relaxed under her touch. Gazing down at her, he lifted a hand to gently stroke her hair. "Alright. I'll do as my little mistress asks. So long as she complies to my wants tonight…" he crooned, lips stretching in a slight smirk.

Sansa smiled at him, relieved, but then she shivered again as a chilly wind blew over her. Closing her eyes, she visualised the glass shards littering the rooms floor flying to the gapping hole in the window and merging together to regain their original form. When she opened her eyes, it was as if nothing had happened: the window was whole again, the air, as warm as it ought to be.

The Hound grinned at her, his eyes flashing with pride. "You're getting good at this. Better and better. You have to true talent."

"Thank you," Sansa murmured, a deep blush spreading over her cheeks.

Receiving compliments from him always gave her such a high. In some strange way, getting his approval was like a drug, one of which she never had enough. Sansa wholeheartedly yearned to make him proud - and she knew just the way. A witch didn't need magic to please a demon, she had learned quickly enough.

When Sansa left for school on Friday morning, there were crickets singing in the vines growing over the house's facade. Their chant was so loud, it was hard to hear what Arya was telling her. The flowers Sansa created at her father's demand on Monday were now as large as dinner plates and very fragrant, the foliage surrounding them exceedingly luxuriant. Sansa couldn't help but wonder what the neighbours made of such growth so late into autumn. It sure clashed with the street's scenery where the leaves of all the other trees had already turned orange and red and started falling.

As they walked to school, Arya kept mentioning that new friend of hers, Gendry, he was called. Ever since the two of them had met some months ago, she continuously talked about him, yet whenever Sansa asked if she had a crush on him, Arya invariably got mad and told her she was being stupid and overly romantic just like this twice damned patriarchal society they lived in expected of her. As if a girl couldn't hang out with a guy without being in love with him!

Sansa didn't dare ask again, but that didn't mean she didn't wonder once more if her little sister was falling for that guy friend of hers. Arya sure seemed like she was head over heals in love with him, no matter what she pretended, and so she only smiled and nodded indulgently as Arya told her of how he rolled the best joints, was the best graffiti artist she had ever met, was hilarious and so on. It was very obvious, to the point of being funny - and a bit adorable as well.

Once more, Sansa's school day was excellent. Her morning classes were interesting and the afternoon was especially enjoyable as she had music practice with the school orchestra. This year, Sansa played the transverse flute for a change, her go to instrument being the piano. She had wished for a challenge and asked for it herself. She played very well today and received many compliments from her teacher and classmates. Her solo was flawless, they all told her. There was no stopping her and she'd have continued practicing all afternoon if the bell hadn't rung and her bandmates all fled, excited for the weekend.

Sansa walked back home by herself, passing through the large park that flanked the school building. As she did, she pondered how beautifully the week had gone. Not once had she been bothered by Joffrey and his cronies. Perhaps they had finally tired of continuously following her around, it had to get old eventually. Naively, for a moment, Sansa truly believed it might be the case and that everything would be alright from now on. She was wrong evidently. Why would Joffrey be done with her when he was having so much fun?

"Just look at her, guys. Doesn't she look like a whore with all that makeup?" his voice came from behind her. "Your hair was never so well done when you were with me. Who are you trying to seduce?"

Her eyes widening, Sansa jerked her head back to see Joffrey as well as Meryn and Boros following her closely. Jumping, she hurried her pace and looked straight ahead.

"No one! And besides, it's none of your freaking business!" she burst out.

She didn't have time to flee. Swiftly, a hand closed around her wrist, stopping her so brusquely she nearly tripped. It was Meryn, she saw as she twisted into his grasp.

"Let me go!" she exclaimed, struggling against his hold. It was useless and soon, she found herself surrounded by the three of them.

"You could be my girlfriend, Sansa. What do you say?" Meryn asked, his teeth bared in an ugly rictus.

Sansa gasped in horror. "What?! Why would I ever want to date you?"

"Because I'm the best you'll ever get. Joffrey thinks you should be grateful for the offer. You should listen to him. He knows best."

Sansa gazed at Joffrey like he had lost his mind. Had he really said as much? And why was she so surprised?

The latter sniggered, pleased by her dismay. "I don't want you to show off like you do." Approaching her, he furrowed his brow angrily. "You used to date me! What are people going to think? You need someone to keep you in line. Meryn would do the trick. Or Boros if you'd prefer, but Meryn told me he likes you."

"Really?" Sansa asked in utter disbelief.

Grinning, Meryn tightened his fingers around her wrist and nodded. "Yeah. You're hot. I would bang you."

Joffrey burst into laughter. "How nice would it be? We could go on double dates, the two of you with me and Margaery. That would be perfect."

Sansa could barely believe her ears. This was insane. "Why would I ever want to date him?!" she retorted, fighting against Meryn's grip. "I don't want to have anything to do with any of you!"

Joffrey frowned angrily and took a few quick steps towards her until his face was just a few inches from hers. "You don't have a say in this! You'll do as I tell you!"

Behind him, Boros and Meryn were chucking, same as if they were having the time of their lives, which made Sansa see red. How could they be so cheerful when she was in such a state of panic? The notion incensed her and without thinking, she sent a surge of energy through Meryn's arm. He yelped and let go of her at once.

"Why did you do that, Meryn?" Joffrey admonished him.

"I didn't mean to!" he said, rubbing his arm with an air of confusion on his face. "It… it just hurt."

"Grab her again, now! I won't tolerate her fleeing from me just now!"

With that, Boros put himself in her path even as Sansa attempted to escape. He might not be as tall as Meryn, but he was as large as a barrel and easily blocked her. She bumped into him and whimpered as he seized her upper arm with strong, fat fingers.

"I got her," he growled.

Sansa screamed and tried to pull herself free. When she realised her efforts were in vain, she kicked his kneecap as hard as she could. Boros grunted and almost lost his grip on her, however Meryn immobilised her with a hand around her other elbow.

"Calm the fuck down! You're not going to achieve anything acting crazy. There's no one around to help you," Joffrey hissed in her face. "You're coming with us now. We're gonna take you for a ride." A cruel spark passed through his eyes.

Her mouth gaping in shock, Sansa stared at him in terror. What… what did he have in mind? And where did he plan on taking her? "I'm not going anywhere with you! Leave me, or else… or else…"

"Or else what?" Joffrey asked, his upper lip curled up in disdain.

"You'll… you'll regret it," Sansa warned shakily.

By her side, Boros and Meryn guffawed, clearly unimpressed by her threat.

Frowning, Sansa lifted her chin up defiantly. She was still terrified, yet instead of tearing up as she'd normally have, she closed her hands in fists and glared at them. There was something strange happening in her, and it took her a few seconds to realise what it was.

It was rage. Yes, rage like she had never felt before, burning at her core. Sansa wondered where it came from. She had been angry before of course, still never with such passion. It felt foreign, like it wasn't hers. Like it was… like it was someone else's fury possessing her. But its provenance was the least of her worries just now, she was too consumed with ire to truly care. In her present state, all Sansa could focus on was the well-deserved lesson Joffrey should be given. He would regret ever having tormented her, oh yes he would…

From then, everything happened very fast. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Sansa called upon the entire strength in her well. As it came on her, the enormity of her might astonished her. The notion that she could use it any way she fancied was exhilarating. And still, for all of that, there, was only one logical action she could take: avenge herself.

Thus without missing a beat, she transformed into something immaterial, as small as a drop of rain, and raced at the speed of light in Joff's direction. As she got near enough, she pushed into him and burst through the barrier of his being with unforeseen ease.

This… this is incredible, Sansa thought as she found herself floating inside of him. It was laughable how unchallenging the whole operation had been. Joffrey was well and truly a disgrace to her blood and deserved her absolute loathing. And now, she could make him do whatever she wanted…

Go ahead and show them you're not to be messed with. Show them what a witch of your calibre can do… a voice from nowhere urged her.

Even from where she was, a mist inside Joff's empty little head, Sansa could sense her lips curve in a smile. She could hardly agree more.

And with that, Joffrey attacked Meryn.

Though he was much weaker, a head shorter and skinny, with the element of surprise, Joffrey managed to hit his friend a few times on the head hard enough to stun him. Then without missing a beat, he shoved his fingers in Meryn's eye sockets, which triggered a cry of pain from Meryn.

"The fuck are you doing?" he yelled. Bending in two, he lifted both palms to his face and pressed them against his eyes.

His eyes wide in shock, Boros' expression went from bafflement to anger in a split second. He hurried in Joff's direction and would have successfully stopped him had it not been for Sansa's timely intervention.

Indeed, as if by magic, a large pool of engine oil materialised under his feet, causing him to slip and fall down on his ass. As he did, Sansa directed her physical self to back away from the action even as Joffrey spun around and kicked Boros in the face. The later groaned, his head flipping backward and bumping into the asphalt ground.

Exhilarated and breathless, Sansa followed the scene that was unfolding before her through both her eyes and Joffrey's. The experience was uncanny, as if she was a security guard surveying the same exact spot from two different cameras. The operation came at a price though, one of which Sansa grew more and more aware of as the fury fueling her instants earlier gave place to overbearing exhaustion.

Before her well was drained and she became too weak to make use of her Skill altogether, Sansa released control over Joffrey and allowed herself to regroup. The part of her that had been in him returned to her body and, at an unimaginable speed, flew through the space between him and her, a little like an untied balloon emptying itself of its air.

When every bit of her awareness returned to her physical self, Sansa backed away, staggering as she did, and found a bench to sit on. She was dizzy and nauseous, yet kept her attention on the brawl she had orchestrated, staring at it in morbid fascination.

Free of her grip on him, Joffrey fell limp to the floor. Blinking, he tilted his face up and peered groggily at his friends. Horror filled his eyes as what had transpired finally dawned on him. Rising to his knees, he lifted his open palms before himself in a most pathetic gesture.

"No! Boros, Meryn, please listen to me. I don't know what happened! I… I didn't mean to do any of this! Don't… don't hurt me!" Joffrey pleaded as they both approached him with thirst for vengeance shining as clear as day in their eyes.

But the harm was already done and nothing he said could change the situation.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Meryn shouted, spluttering all over him.

Before Joffrey could reply, Boro's grabbed his shoulder, and Meryn's closed fist, hit his jaw. He groaned and then, gasped, howled and spit as he was repetitively punched in the stomach with increasing violence. Wincing, Sansa squinted, however she was simply incapable of looking away, no matter how cringeworthy it was. In fact, she was so engrossed, she almost didn't notice a group of students passing by that stopped by her bench, not until one of them spoke.

"Is that Joffrey Baratheon?" a guy asked. "Seven Hells… why are Boros and Meryn beating him up?" he continued, visibly stunned.

After the first shock had settled in, he smiled. Some of his friends chuckled and, gradually, more clusters of students appeared, attracted by the commotion. Soon, a large crowd gathered to watch the unbelievable events taking place, everyone taken aback in a gleeful sort of way. Joffrey was dreaded at school, and not very much liked, so there wouldn't be much sympathy for him. His beating had to feel like vindication to most of those here to witness it.

And to Sansa it did feel as thus also, even though her joy was not so pure.

As Joffrey's battered body was at last tossed to the dirty ground by his ex-friends, she shuddered as guilt quickly overwhelmed her.

What have I done? she wondered, torn between horror and the most delicious of elations.

What have I ever done?