𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙰 ° myrcella baratheon

THIRTY TWO

The hall was silent as the council members sat at the long table, waiting for their boyish king to arrive. No one said a word. Not a sound was heard. Until the door opened and Joffrey marched in, two Kingsguard following behind him.

"Tell me of the Stark boy." He said without hesitation, making his way to the end of the table.

Varys was the one to speak. "Gone, Your Grace. He was seen fleeing the city shortly before dusk just days ago."

"And you let him get away!" The blonde sixteen year old shouted angrily, slamming his fist onto the table as he glared at the council members.

"We will find him, Your Grace." Baelish said in assurance.

"We suspect that he has gone North to join his brother's forces." The eunuch spoke. "Our forces know to keep an eye out for the boy."

"None the matter." Joffrey said, turning to march from the hall. "I have things covered here."

꧁꧂

Joffrey and Sansa were walking through the castle's open halls, the heat of the morning washing over the northern girl as she follows the new king.

"And as soon as you've had your blood, I'll put a son in you." The blonde boy said. "Mother said that shouldn't be long."

Sansa was about to answer when she looked up and her eyes met something she rather wouldn't have seen. "No! Please, no!" The girl hollered, turning her head away.

Joffrey, with a smirk on his face, pointed up to one of the heads. "This one's your father. This one here." The boy turned around and, seeing the redhead with her head tilted away and her eyes squeezed shut, contorted his face to a look of anger. "Look at it and see what happens to traitors."

"You promised you'd be merciful." She said, her voice breaking.

"I was. I gave him a clean death." He said as if it were obvious before he turned cold. "Look at him."

"Please, let me go home. I won't do any treason, I swear-"

"Mother says I'm still to marry you. So, you'll stay here. And obey. Look at him!"

Taking a small breath, Sansa slowly lifted her head, seeing the head of her father displayed on the wall like a trophy. Just looking at it made her sick to her stomach, but filled with anger at the same time.

"Well?" Joffrey said impatiently.

She kept a blank face as she looked at it. "How long do I have to look?"

This only irritated the boy king. "As long as it pleases me." He paused, an evil smile coming to his face. "Do you want to see the rest?"

"If it please Your Grace." She said flatly.

The boy pointed slightly to the left. "That's your Septa there." He indicated a woman's head, which was covered in a traditional scarf that the teachers wore. "And here..." He pointed to one right next to Ned's.

Sansa's eyes traveled over to where he pointed and her heart dropped, her cold look becoming one of heartbreak. Though the head was covered completely in a crimson liquid, none of the features very visible behind the curtain of red, she knew who it was.

"This is your brother." Joffrey said with a smirk, trying not to let his anger for the falsehood of the identity show. "He wasn't easy to kill; took down three of my guards. But they took his down soon enough."

The Stark girl couldn't stop looking at it. The once smiling and playful Lachlan Stark...killed in a southern city. The thought broke her heart; he would never lay in the crypts. He'll never lay beside his ancestors. Beside his father, and his father's father.

He would never join the Old Gods.

"I'll tell you what." The king spoke, though she didn't acknowledge him. "I'm going to give you a present. After I raise my armies and kill your traitor brother, I'm going to give you his head as well."

Without hesitation, Sansa let her anger show ever so slightly. "Or maybe he'll bring me yours." She said before looking at the king with a cold look.

She saw Joffrey cower slightly before he stood tall with a mask of anger. Taking breath, he spoke. "My mother tells me a king should never strike his lady." He then gestured to someone behind him.

Ser Meryn stepped forwards, grabbing Sansa's shoulder. In an instant, she was slapped on both cheeks, her head turning from the force. The girl could feel her lip sting as the armored hand presumably cut her.

She slowly turned back to face Joffrey, seeing him on the wooden bridge over a large drop off. At the bottom was a cobbled street. She could do it. Right here, right now. Sure, she would get killed for it, but all the problems in the country would be gone in a heartbeat.

The girl had only taken a few steps forwards when she felt a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around. She came face to face with the man who they called the Hound. He used a rag to wipe the blood from her lip. "Here, girl." She took it from him thankfully.

"Will you obey now?" Joffrey spoke as he started to walk off the bridge. "Or do you need another lesson?" When she merely nodded in reply, the king seemed content with that. "I'll see you in court." He said before marching away, Ser Meryn in tow.

The Hound turned to her. "Save yourself some pain, girl. Give him what he wants." Sansa didn't say anything, but inseam extended her hand with the rag out. "You'll be needing that again."

After he, too, had left, Sansa took a deep breath and looked up at the head of her brother, the lump coming back into her throat as she watched the crimson liquid drip down the wall.

꧁꧂

Mrycella sat in her room, staring down at the city below as she fiddled with the small, pearl ring on her finger. Her tear stained cheeks made her face feel dry in the morning sun. From her window, as much as she hated it, she could see her older brother's 'trophies' displayed on the walls.

Her heart swelled whenever she looked down there, knowing that one of those belonged to the only man she had ever loved. The man she was supposed to be married to. But now, all she had left of him was the ring he had given her and a promise that could never be fulfilled.