Sansa

Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, thought Sansa, her finger tapped impatiently on the varnished wood of the steering wheel as her pale blue eyes desperately scanned the outside of the car. The street's of Flea Bottom seemed scarier at night, as if everything had an aura of danger or mystery or mischief. Flea Bottom was famous for it's pubs, no matter how run down and filthy it became it would always be popular.

If he's drunk again I swear -

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off by a loud, obnoxious shout and a tapping on the tinted window, "Sansa, my lady. Open the door, why don't you?" The man laughed drunkenly then clutched over, vomit spewing and spreading all over the old, worn pavement that was Flea Bottoms side walk.

Sansa gagged in disgust and hesitantly unlocked the door. She had half a mind to leave him there and just drive away in the car as black as night, alas, she didn't. Instead she unlocked the door and watched him climb into the car, cringing and scoffing at the smell of his wretched breath. "Joffrey you promised you wouldn't drink."

"It's been a long day, I don't need to hear it."

She looked at him, her mouth gaping open slightly, "Joffr-"

"Just drive," he said coldly, not even bothering to glance at her.

Sansa didn't like this part of him. It only seemed to expose itself when he had been drinking. He'll change, thought Sansa, I can change him. The truth was, unfortunately, that no one could change him. He was cruel, narcissistic, controlling, and, at some times, utterly disgusting. Her prince is what she would say to Arya, he's my prince and we'll marry and have beautiful blonde babies. Arya had just rolled her eyes, "Seven Hells," she would say, that was years ago now.

Sansa had just turned twenty; only a few weeks after Joffrey had turned twenty-two. Sansa may've been older but she certainly didn't look it; her hair shone its usual auburn colour with the exception of the length, it was longer now, it looked better; her alabaster skin that was once flawless now donned wrinkles, "from all of Joffrey's mishaps," her mother would say. She knew he was a handful but she couldn't bring herself to leave him.

"Fine," and with that she started the engine of Joffrey's jet black mustang and began to drive slowly, making sure she wouldn't churn Joffrey's stomach any more than it already was. "Was Sandor with you?" She always found herself asking about Joffrey's body guard. Sandor Clegane had helped Sansa out of many things before and she was always incredibly grateful.

Sandor was a tall, muscly man that reached six and a half feet. Half of his face had been awfully burn by his brother, Gregor, and she sometimes found it hard to not stare at his face, he would always just scowl at her and look away. No hair ever touched the burn so there was a large patch of hair missing from that part of his head. Sansa often thought he would look quite handsome without the burns.

"Why the fuck do you care about my dog?"

"I- It was just a question, my prince."

"Hmph," Joffrey turned and looked out of the window, one hand hesitantly making it's way to Sansa's leg and giving it a soft, apologetic squeeze.

She shook off his hand gently anod looked at the back of his golden head quickly before looking back to the road. "Why were you here? In Flea Bottom? Don't you usually go to one of the clubs in the upper districts of Kings Landing?"

"I had business here with Uncle Jaime."

Business, she thought, business with the drugs or business with the whores? "What kind of business?"

"Royal business," he smirked and looked back over at her. That's what he had always called it, his "Royal business." Joffrey Baratheon was the supposed prince of the underground, he was completely and utterly relentless. His father, Robert Baratheon, was the king of the underground; the drugs, the weapons, the shipping yards. Everything. He owned it all.

Sansa rolled her eyes and continued to drive. "what do you do in your 'royal business'?"

Her remark sent Joffrey chuckling as he continued to watch the blurring sights outside of the window. "We're merging the Tyrells with the Baratheons," he said it almost shamelessly and Sansa knew that there would be something else, "I'm to marry Margaery."

She ignored the drifting sound of his voice as he fell asleep and continued to focus on the road, not once stopping to wipe away her tears.

(A/N: the character entry time is non-canon, I'll just say that now. Anyways, I think I'll definitely be continuing with this fiction. Reviews, reads and suggestions always welcome. xx Rachel.)