Game Of Thrones Joffrey Baratheon Purple Days

"They're coming! They're coming!" Arya squealed as she rushed past guards and frantic servants, wearing a ridiculous helmet as she ran for the rest of the family, standing solemnly nearby the outer courtyard.

Sansa rolled her eyes, but couldn't find it in her to rebuke her wildling of a sister as she made sure her hair brooch was still in place and tightly secured. Her belly was full of whirling butterflies, and her face felt a bit flushed as she watched the Outer Gatehouse with expectant eyes.

"Arya!" she finally scolded her sister, unable to resist as she neared the rest of the family.

She's going to ruin everything! She thought as Father took mercy on her and took Arya's ridiculous helmet away, giving it to Ser Rodrik. Arya made a face as she looked at her, but Sansa didn't care anymore, the first riders were already reaching the gate!

She'd been anxiously awaiting the King's visit ever since the news had reached Winterfell, a breath of fresh air over the prospect of another dull year cooped up in the Main Keep sitting under Septa Mordane's necessary, if sometimes long winded, lessons. Another year of white dullness with Arya as her constant and irritating companion, and Jeyne and Mother as her only confidants.

She steadied her face into proper ladylike demeanor, taking her cues from Mother as the lead riders passed them by, dismounting as they held aloft the banners of Houses Baratheon and Lannister. Behind them came a big fat man who seemed to be restraining an easy smile as he dismounted from the huge horse which carried him.

Is that the king? Sansa wondered as more and more people filled the courtyard until it was fit to burst. Her heart beat faster and faster in excitement as colorful banners of many different styling's and shapes fluttered under the breeze, knights, soldiers, servants and big wagons filling the area. She even spotted what she supposed must be the Queen's Wheelhouse, a stately affair of silver enameled wood and golden lines, rolling gracefully over the castle's cobblestones.

The King trundled over quickly, stopping mid stride right in front of Father as him and all of Winterfell kneeled in unison.

He said something, but Sansa didn't hear what exactly as she inched her head sideways at a couple of late comers, swiftly riding in between the dismounting knights and the scattering servants, already speaking with their counterparts from the kitchens and the dormitories.

One was a big knight who wore a fierce helmet in the form of a dog's head, and the other was a somewhat tall youth in rugged riding leathers, effortlessly guiding a huge black warhorse through carriages and servants, a sword and a wicked looking hammer strapped to his belt.

"That's the Hound!" whispered Arya, earning a shush from Mother.

Both the King and Father laughed as he stood and they embraced each other, slapping each other's back heartily as they spoke, but Sansa couldn't hear them as she stood up with the rest of the family and Winterfell's inhabitants, still staring at the handsome blonde youth as he effortlessly slid down from his saddle, walking straight towards Father and not even looking their way.

"Oh, and this is my firstborn son, Joffrey," the King said as he waved back with a negligent hand at who he realized now was the Crown Prince. "Show some respect boy, this is the man that-"

"Lord Stark," said Joffrey as he bowed in respect, "It's an honor to finally meet you," he said, his face serious and still as if it had been made of stone.

"Likewise, my Prince," said Father, a little puzzled as he returned the bow with a nod of his own.

Robert looked at his son for a second longer before he was suddenly hugging Mother with his huge arms, "Cat!" he exclaimed, "You haven't aged a day," he complimented her.

"Your Grace," said Mother with a small curtsy, though the fond smile betrayed the solemnity.

"And you must be Robb!" said the King as he moved and he obstructed her vision, saluting the rest of the family. When he got to her he smiled wistfully, a calloused hand holding her cheek, "Ain't you a pretty one," he commented with a smile, leaving her with a blush as he moved on to Arya, who stood by her side.

She was still a bit stunned after being complimented by the King of the Seven Kingdoms when, from one moment to the next, the crown prince stood before her, following the King as he gave his respects to the family. Now that he was closer, Sansa could see faint black smudges under the prince's eyes, and his face seemed a bit pale.

Why doesn't he look at me? Has the powder turned foul? She asked herself in near panic as he bowed slightly and grabbed her hand, stern faced and avoiding her eyes.

Her hand tingled as he kissed it lightly, the butterflies inside her belly turning both confused and strangely hopeful as the prince spoke. "Lady Sansa," he whispered almost as if in pain, strange longings and perhaps even grief lacing his voice.

Sansa stared at him, puzzled and willing him to really look at her as the strange prince stood up. He must have noticed that somehow, for as he stood up smoothly and turned to greet Bran, he peeked at her for just a second… and when their eyes met he seemed to stop moving entirely.

Joffrey's pale green eyes seemed bottomless, filled with meanings she couldn't begin to comprehend as she felt him stiffen, his hands curling into fists as she smiled nervously. She almost lost herself in that enveloping, soul piercing stare as the butterflies froze for a second and she felt strangely lightweight, the rest of Winterfell fading slightly as she frowned, seeing something within his eyes. The dizzying moment was broken as Joffrey let out an almost explosive breath as he moved on, greeting Bran quickly and somewhat mechanically.

Sansa blinked repeatedly as she looked down, nonplussed by the strange experience. Who she realized now was the Queen had already left the wheelhouse, and was smiling almost bitterly as Father and the King walked away. She looked regal and beautiful in her fine silk red dress as Mother swiftly introduced her.

"The Far North seems too cold for a beauty such as yours, young Sansa," said the Queen, Mother smiling in approval as Sansa gave her a perfect curtsy. "Would you care for some refreshments, your grace?" asked Mother.

The Queen accepted with a regal nod as Mother escorted her towards the Main Keep, looking at Sansa meaningfully as they walked, "And won't the young lady be joining us?" She asked, her eyes as green as her son's but lacking the almost glossy, steely paleness. Mother nodded slightly at her, bidding her to follow though she seemed as worried as she was interested.

As Sansa walked a half step behind them, finally getting her first taste of real court life as the Queen spoke of King's Landing, she couldn't stop herself from looking back at the courtyard… though the curious, blonde prince was nowhere to be found.

-.PD.-

The next few days flew agonizingly fast. It seemed the day had barely started when it was already over, and Sansa strived to make the most of them before the terrible dullness that was life in Winterfell returned, exalting in the happenings which she had only read before in stories. She found a new companion in the form of a Princess of the Realm, Myrcella Baratheon, and her evenings were filled with the exciting gossip of King's Landing, listening in rapt attention to the girl's depictions of the Red Keep, Baelor's Sept, and the streets of the realm's capital. Myrcella, Jeyne, and herself soon became a close knit group, awed by the tales of the great tourney's and balls of the capital… as long as Arya didn't try her damned best ruin it all, running underfoot as was her want and making a mess of herself.

Tried as she might though, she never managed to catch the crown prince himself, and only Mother's constant reassurances that it was not her fault had calmed her. Myrcella had also assured her that he'd been like that since before leaving the Capital… though that only served to make her even more curious… of all the current inhabitants of Winterfell, he seemed to avoid her the most.

She thought fate had at last started smiling upon her during the fifth day of the King's stay, when a huge feast was arranged in the great hall. She had never seen the hall so full of people, raucous laughter and merry conversation drowning the sound of clinking cups and the footsteps of harried servants, bringing forth even more food and courses for the guests of Winterfell. The seating arrangements had been set from before, and Sansa found herself beside Myrcella in one of the long tables closest to the high one where Father, Mother, the King, the Queen and a few others feasted, though the Queen's dashing brother was nowhere to be seen.

Seated right in front of her, by the other side of the table, was the Crown Prince.

He seems so tired… She thought as she gazed at him discreetly, feeling happy to see him again… and cornered by formality so he can't run again, whispered a most unladylike part of her. He seemed to be barely playing with his food, his back rigid as he stared at the silverware… or perhaps beyond. His eyes seemed somewhat unfocused, and though he might sometimes tilt his head left or right, he'd never look at her.

What's the matter with him?! Sansa asked herself in a huff, annoyed at the mystery which seemed to taunt her unceasingly. Myrcella was giggling with Jeyne over something as they looked at Robb, though Sansa didn't pay them much attention as she kept staring at Joffrey, puzzled and searching for something... though she didn't know what.

He looks more than tired… exhausted even, she thought as he stabbed a piece of venison with his fork, taking a good long while before finally eating it. Perhaps the journey from the Capital had left him like this?

That didn't sound right, no, she was somehow certain that whatever the matter was with the Crown Prince, it was a bit weightier than mere horses. Joffrey looked like he didn't sleep at all, dark shadows surrounding a pale face which seemed slow to laugh or anger.

She sought a way to cross the void that seemed to surround him, just to… talk to him, nothing improper…. Though a part of her couldn't stop remembering a hundred stories which started with a lonesome prince and a dutiful lady, stories in which the prince's shell of ice cracked apart if only the lady had the courage to speak to him.

The butterflies in her belly stilled as she took in a breath to speak, only to splutter as something slapped into her face. She looked down, stunned as the piece of pie slid down her cheek and ruined her dress, her hair sticking to her brow as she turned and saw Arya laughing without a care in the world.

"ARYA!!!" she screamed at her, fury and despair mixing in equal measure as Mother stood up from her table and swiftly walked towards them. Fury turned to mortification as she realized Joffrey was smiling at her misfortune, an oddly bittersweet smile. She could feel her cheeks flushing in embarrassment as tears filled her eyes and Mother scolded her and Arya.

Why does she have to ruin everything!? She despaired as she carried the both of them away from the hall.

"But Mother! She started!" she wailed, struggling to keep the tears inside her eyes as she tried to pull Arya's hair once they had left the hall.

"Stop that this instant!" Mother thundered, "Go to your rooms, both of you," she commanded sternly.

The Prince must think me a child, she thought in despair… thought at least she had made him smile… somehow, she felt he needed it.

-.PD.-

Vague musings had acquired crystal sharp reality the day Father had spoken to her alone in his solar, Mother the only other person inside the room as she stroked her hair gently. She thought she'd done something terribly wrong, but they had just gently asked her what she thought of Prince Joffrey.

"I think he's quiet… bit sad at times…" she'd said, "Handsome too," she'd blurted at Mother's piercing stare.

There had been silence for a moment before Father nodded, almost to himself. "The King has made his wishes known in regards to uniting our Houses through marriage… and we have accepted. A betrothal between you and Prince Joffrey has been arranged," he delivered stoically, her Mother watching her attentively.

"I… I am to be Queen?" she had asked, dumbfounded.

"Do you like the notion, Sansa?" Mother had asked her, carefully.

"I… I… yes!" she'd blurted, her head filled with visions of tourneys and balls, of her standing beside Joffrey as he ruled, same as Mother had done with Father.

"Of course you would," Father said with a private smile, "If you have any concerns Sansa, let us know… your Mother and I will always hear them," he'd told her, but she'd already lost herself to reverie as a hundred tales and legends suddenly turned real too.

Her dreams that night had been confused and heavy, and she'd still been in somewhat of a daze when she'd woken up.

I am betrothed… she thought, still dumbfounded by the sudden news. They wouldn't marry yet for a while, but she was betrothed, not to one of Father's vassals, not to populate some destitute northern keep, but to the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms! The news made her drowsy… the prospect of living a life beyond Winterfell, where you could meet other people without having to ride for a day, and where it didn't snow every week… Jeyne and her both had daydreamed of being swept away by a handsome, honorable knight one day in the far future, too many times to count. To suddenly find herself in that position, swept away not by a knight but by the handsome, enigmatic heir to the Seven Kingdoms left her breathless.

Of course, that still left the matter of her betrothed himself… which granted, she didn't know a whole lot about, but she was just sure that all he needed was a bit of work on her part and he'd open up. Her nightmares had been full of visions where she was rejected, where she tripped in front of the whole court of King's Landing as she tried to curtsy in front of the King and the unimpressed prince. Of course, she'd never been there before, but her mind had depicted it as a great hall full of banners and hundreds upon hundreds of nobles from dozens of great houses, all laughing at her.

She shook her head as she walked, clearing the mind. If she was to get to the Prince somehow, then she'd needed to be a bit more bold. Being proper was all well and good, but all ladies had been maidens before, and maidens could afford to have a little more… initiative, she supposed.

Her nightmares of Joffrey falling in love with some other maiden had nothing to do with her hurry. Nothing at all.

She was outside the Main Keep, walking down an open aired stairway to the Outer Courtyard when she spotted the Prince. He was atop his fierce warhorse, looking somewhat annoyed at a defiant Myrcella which stood under the Gatehouse with her arms crossed. Prince Tommen stood by the side, watching in a strange mixture of excitement and wariness.

The Prince liked to ride out every day, spending most of the morning alone in the Wolfswood with only his horse for company…

He's so independent… she mused as he gazed at Joffrey and the plentiful armament he carried. Whereas other noble dignitaries had made due with fine, comfortable clothes under furs once within Winterfell, Joffrey had not once stopped using his leather armor, and his sword and hammer never seemed to leave his side.

She'd have to find a way to connect, even though she was not an adventurous woman, not like Arya was… the brief thought of the Prince feeling something for Arya made her throat feel twisted, as if grabbed by an invisible hand. She shook her head as she returned her attention to the Outer Courtyard.

"Myrcella… I haven't got the time for this…" Prince Joffrey said with a sigh.

"Nonsense! You have plenty of time to search for trees! And Father will be staying all of next week!" pouted the Princess.

"Myrcella…" Joffrey said with a tone of long sufferance, tinges of sadness coloring his voice.

Always so sad and tired, Sansa wondered as she gazed at him from the stairs, debating the best way to start a conversation.

"Please Joffrey! Pleaaaaaaase!!!" she pleaded, both hands close to her chest.

"Ahg, fine…" said the Prince as he shook his head, and for the first time Sansa heard something approaching mirth from him.

"Come on Moonlight, let's dance for the lady," he told his horse as he did something with his knees.

The great, black warhorse gave some sort of amused snort before starting to… dance?

Sansa's stunned smile grew as she watched the black warhorse start moving from left and right, still looking at Myrcella as it raised and lowered its hoofs in an exaggerated manner, cantering sideways as if he were upon smooth, slippery ice instead of cobblestones.

Joffrey chuckled slightly as he sang a little jig and Moonlight twirled in circles, spinning like a wheel, "From side-to-side, side-to-side, better watch the horse if you know what's good!" he sang with a rough voice, like how Sansa imagined a sailor's shanty must sound. Moonlight redoubled the frequency of its dance, his hooves slamming against the cobblestones quickly and giving the shanty an accelerated rhythm. "From side-to-side, side-to-side, why have a bear when you-can-have-a-horse!" Joffrey sang as Moonlight snorted and it twirled his head in circles as if following an annoying fly, only to suddenly end with a brisk step forward and a sloppy, wet kiss to Myrcella's forehead.

Joffrey laughed heartily at Myrcella's stunned expression, giggling fits soon overcoming her as Tommen clapped wildly, eyes wide. Moonlight gave an appreciative snort as it trundled backwards, still dancing the jig as Joffrey kept chuckling. The horse gave a turn and Joffrey automatically stopped him as he saw her, blinking twice.

"Lady Sansa," he blurted, surprised.

"Prince Joflgrough," Sansa said as a Moonlight's sloppy mouth gave her a kiss on the forehead… and her eyes and nose too for that matter.

"M-Moonlight!" Joffrey scolded him as he pulled the reins, "Lady Sansa I'm so…" he trailed off as she blinked, horror giving way to an unwilling, unseemly giggle as she gazed at Moonlight. The horse seemed positively satisfied. Her dignity had been shattered in front of Joffrey yet again, and there was not much to do but laugh in the face of failure… the annoyingly smug face of failure.

"I'm… I'm sorry for that," Joffrey managed, chuckling slightly as he smiled and dismounted his horse.

He has a nice smile. He should wear it more often, Sansa mused as Joffrey took out a handkerchief and wiped her face with it, his sheepish smile slowly giving way to the neutral façade.

"How did you teach him to dance like that?" she blurted, a dozen courtly conversation starters flying by the wayside as her mouth moved with a will of its own.

He did not return to the levity of before, but the stern façade's progress was stalled as Joffrey wiped the other side of her cheek, leaving a tingling sensation on it. "It's not very time consuming. With a sufficiently smart horse practically anything is possible," he said before turning back to his horse and clicking his tongue. The war horse stood attentively, all sings of mirth gone as Joffrey made a weird gesture with his hand, "Moonlight, apologize to Lady Sansa," he told him.

Moonlight snorted as he bowed his head, Sansa playing along as she curtsied in return and got another smile out of Joffrey for her troubles. "You're going out again?" she asked the Prince.

"… Yes. Riding helps… well…" he shrugged in discomfort, swiftly mounting Moonlight again as his neutral face came back in full force.

"Lady Sansa," he nodded respectfully at her, and Sansa couldn't get another word in edgewise before he was cantering and then galloping past the gate, Myrcella waving goodbye at him. She felt a brief impulse to jump atop another horse and race after him, but riding side saddle through the Wolfswood was bound to break her neck…

She shook her head, frustrated with herself. Riding after the Prince? What was the matter with her?

-.PD.-

Trying to interact with Joffrey was like having one's teeth pulled out, or at least it felt like that to her. Joffrey was bound to disappear from any place if she showed her face, and her frustrations and fears had been mounting day after day.

"Why does he hate me?" She asked her Father one day, "Is he in love with… another lady?" she'd voiced one of her greatest concerns.

"He doesn't hate you Sansa, Prince Joffrey is just… reclusive," he'd said awkwardly.

"Did he object to the betrothal?" she'd asked him, red eyed.

When he stayed silent, that was all she'd needed to know. "He didn't raise a word over it. He merely… seemed a bit wary," he tried, her sobs rapidly becoming stronger and stronger.

"He thinks I'm an ugly, worthless child doesn't he?" she'd sobbed, and Father had worn a look of absolute panic until Mother had chanced by her room, hugging her gently and soothing her with kind words.

Jeyne seemed sympathetic to her plight, but her advice could be reduced to 'keep doing the same', and Sansa was not dumb. It was obvious courting him like a proper lady was not going to work… she'd have to move beyond the bounds of propriety if she was to talk with her future husband.

And so she walked up the open walkway which stood over Winterfell's training yard, making her way as silently as she could in her hardy furs, her dress left behind for something more robust and flexible as she eyed him leaning over the railing, staring at a few of the boys sparring below. If he walked away from her, Sansa swore she would chase him down…

He seemed lost in his own world, staring hollowly at the training yard below as Robb and Jon exchanged blows between themselves, laughing as they circled each other, tourney swords at the ready. Her bastard brother had scarcely shown himself during the King's stay, properly keeping his head down at least until the King's visit was over. King Robert had left for an extended hunt, and the central courtyard seemed almost deserted but for the shuffling servants and Robb's friendly taunts.

She carefully walked through the slightly snowed, roofed wooden walkway until she was leaning beside him, staring at the clanging swords below as well. She spent a few moments looking down before she felt him stiffen, turning to look at her before quickly straightening.

"I'm not going to bite you," she told him, though a bit of her bitterness must have shown in her voice because Joffrey seemed slightly startled as he blinked, looking at her again.

"That obvious, huh?" he asked as he turned back to look at the yard, still wrapped upon himself as in layers upon layers of disciplined stillness.

"No, its…" she took a moment to take a small breath, frowning.

Acting delicately will get me nowhere… she thought as she decided to vent a bit of her frustrations on to him. It was only fair.

"Yes actually, it has been quite rude of you," she said, looking at the yard as well. "I spent hours looking at myself in the mirror to see if I had some sort of worm crawling over it. Seems about right for the amount of disgust I seem to provoke in you," she shot at him, the words coming from deep within as she blushed.

Gods… where is this coming from… she asked herself as she kept staring at the yard so Joffrey couldn't see her blush. True as it may be, he might… no, I'm committed, can't back out now, she thought quickly.

Joffrey seemed only slightly less stunned than she felt, tilting his head and giving her a pained grimace. "I'm sorry my lady, I… I assure you the matter lays not with you, but with me," he ground out, looking at the other end of the walkway and no doubt wondering how to escape now without turning his apology into some sick joke.

"If it's really something within yourself then it's hardly something you can ran away from," Sansa reasoned, "Besides, the walkway can be a bit slippery this time of the year, wouldn't want to break your neck," she said with an impish smile, going all out. The smile had not been at all fake, as the prospect of Joffrey slipping and hitting his head on the floor gave her some sort of vindictive, unfair satisfaction over all those sleepless nights.

"Is that a threat?" Joffrey asked in disbelief, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards in the beginnings of something.

"Are you going to keep running?" she asked in turn, still looking at the yard as she wasn't confident she could say it with a straight face if she looked at him in the eyes.

I think I've already ruined everything… nothing to it but end it on a high note, she thought to herself as she hid the despair under a mask of nonchalance. Father will have to look for a third born son with a half snowed keep after this, she thought in mute dread.

Joffrey stared at her before a short chuckle escaped his stern façade, his eyes closing in mirth as he leaned back again on the wooden rail. "I suppose I deserved that…" he muttered as he returned to his yard staring exercise, this time by her side again, "It does seem a bit slippery, now that I think about it. Better stay here, safe and sound," he said as the chuckle died off, though not the smile.

"Good," Sansa nodded firmly, her eyes still locked below.

… did that just work?! She thought to herself in surprise. Not a single one of Mother's courtship tales had started thus, though she supposed the fact that her own had at least started already gave her a small measure of relief. He had to keep him talking though, as the stern face was already solidifying and the way he kept squeezing the rail didn't seem good at all.

"Don't you want to join them?" she asked him, looking as Jon disarmed Robb in a quick blur of swords.

That might have been ill timed, she thought, seeing as she'd just suggested the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms to spar with a bastard. Joffrey seemed to smile wistfully at the notion though, his attempts at strangling the rail subsiding as he let a breath out. "I'm afraid those calm, sunny days are long gone," he muttered as if to himself.

"Too grown up for playing at the yard?" she teased him.

"I… yeah. It would just make a scene," he shrugged. The confident boast sounded like a horrible curse coming from his mouth.

Sansa stayed quiet for a while, the clanging of swords switching tempo as her brother and half-brother slowed down, talking more often between each round. "You've seen… fighting before?" Sansa asked, "Like a, battle?" she corrected herself lamely.

Joffrey stayed still for a long while, so long she thought he'd ignored her. Eventually though, he spoke. "Yes," he said simply, "…They spar and laugh now, but when the time comes they'll weep for their lost loved ones. The fields will turn to mud and the villages will burn. They'll wish they'd be back in Winterfell, laughing and dreaming of glory," he continued in a low monotone, the prophecy sending a shiver down Sansa's spine.

"Not a very princely thing to say though," Sansa pointed out.

Joffrey snorted, "I suppose not. I'm not a very princely person anyway," he said slowly, the weight of the world in his voice.

Why are you like this? What happened to you? She wanted to ask. Instead she tilted her head thoughtfully, "What person are you then?" she asked after a moment.

Joffrey spent a long while staring at the yard, but it was clear he was not really looking at it. "I asked myself that question for a long time. In the end, the answer was simple enough," he said with a mirthless smile, letting the silence build for a while before letting out a breath. "Not a person, not really… just the way things are," he said with another shrug, as if at peace with the notion.

It was not tiredness or sadness, Sansa realized. Joffrey sounded broken. As if his soul had departed to the afterlife and left a grey husk behind, somehow still moving and breathing but without a shred of emotion left. She didn't know what to make of the cryptic statement, but it was not Mother's tales from her youth or Septa Mordane's lessons which made her hand shift and grab Joffrey's… it was the gaping hollowness in her betrothed-to-be's voice, devoid of hope and angst.

She put her hand over his and she could see Joffrey inching his head almost immediately, staring at it as his hand still squeezed the handrail. Some sort of monumental struggle seemed to be taking place inside his mind as he bit his lip so hard a bit of blood seeped through, staring at both their hands so hard they might as well be opposing armies in the field of battle. His head shook minutely as he took a harrowing breath and his hand slowly grabbed hers tightly, their fingers interwoven.

Sansa let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as she blinked and leaned on his shoulder, a flurry of butterflies twirling inside her belly even as they disappeared just as quickly as they arrived, leaving her grounded firmly in a crystal clear reality, the doubts and the worry fading as if they'd been but mid-summer dew.

The strange reverie was broken as Joffrey took in a strangled breath suddenly, managing to release her hand even though she'd been holding it just as tightly, stumbling back and hitting the other railing with his back.

He was fisting his hands so tightly she could see he was hurting himself, though what stunned her the most was the panicked worry in his eyes as he gazed at her in dread. "No. I can't do this to you Sansa," he said, breathing hard.

"Joffrey…" she said, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to understand the strange sensation, blinking rapidly as it slipped away and Joffrey looked as if on the edge of a panic attack.

"No. Never. This stops now Sansa. Don't look for me again," he said, moving his head compulsively as if trying to shake off a blow and stumbling a few steps towards the Keep's door, still looking at her.

His rejection should have broken her into a thousand pieces, but Sansa kept blinked repeatedly as she looked back at him, chasing the threads of meaning rapidly disappearing from her conscious mind. "This is not about the betrothal," she whispered.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he managed, his voice tight.

"Then tell me!" she screamed, feeling overwhelmed.

What is happening?! She thought as she tried to understand, but the threads of meaning had already disappeared.

"I can't. No," Joffrey choked, almost tripping as he turned back and ran towards the keep's door, leaving her behind to shake before the suddenly cold winds.

-.PD.-

"… it was so strange. We just held hands and… I don't know what happened. For a moment, everything made sense… but, not," Sansa tried to explain, words failing her as Jeyne looked on with interest, both of them talking quietly as they did their needlework. Arya had tried to evade the class, but Septa Mordane had caught her in the act and she'd been trundled off to Mother, leaving the two of them alone to gossip.

"It was…" she trailed off, thoroughly confused.

"As if you had found a part of yourself you'd never knew was missing?" Jeyne supplied.

"I… maybe… I suppose you could put it that way…" Sansa blinked, staring at her.

"Oh Sansa, that's so romantic!" Jeyne flushed, and Sansa shook her head.

"No, no. He knew that I knew… about the thing, tha-"

"As if you could read each other's thoughts?" asked Jeyne.

"I, no, ah, yes. Jeyne!" she said as he dropped her knitting, "You're not helping!" she told her, annoyed.

"I am helping. You're in love Sansa," she said excitedly, "It's just you haven't even realized it yet! All this talk of strange feelings and shared insights, it's so obvious!" she said as she looked at her, as if speaking to a child. "Sansa, you've been waiting for this moment for years, stop fighting it and enjoy it," she said with a touch of envy, "It sounds like everything we ever dreamed of…" she trailed off with a sigh.

"Maybe…" she muttered.

"So, so romuuuntic!" Arya laughed from behind her. Sansa stood up as she turned, mortified as she found her sister smirking from behind her tall chair, spying on them.

"ARYA!" she screeched, trying to get to her to do… something bad, but she skipped away, laughing like mad.

"The stone prince gives you a smile and you're already falling apart, maybe the Hound can growl your way and then your heart will split in two!" she twisted gleefully as she ran.

"You-! ARYA!!!" she screamed as she followed her, bitter tears in her eyes, "You're only jealous because, because you're so ugly not even Hodor would marry you!" she shot back.

"Y-you just want someone who'll listen to your prattle!" Arya shouted as she ran, though the way her face twisted betrayed the nonchalance audible in her words, "To hold you while you swain and faint like a useless stupid"- Sansa screamed in fury as she managed to grab her sister's hair mid insult and pull it back, Arya screeching in pain as she tried to ward her off with her hands, her nails biting into Sansa's cheek. They were both tumbling in the floor when Septa Mordane found them, their red eyes, their hateful stares doing little to distract her as she grabbed the both of them by the ear and brought them back to Mother, her expression absolutely thunderous.

-.PD.-

Her punishment was horrible. To stay in her room for the next few days even as the King's once-in-a-lifetime visit to Winterfell ground to a close. Her dreams were confused and filled with strong emotions, leaving her dizzy by morning. Try as he she might though, she couldn't stop thinking about Arya's hateful words.

Is that all I really want? She asked herself. To have someone who can just hear me 'prattle'?

Existence in Winterfell for a noble lady was a lonely enough affair, and Jeyne Pool and a handful of other girls, plus Septa Mordane and Mother, did little to alleviate that. She supposed the prospect of a handsome prince come to carry her away from the dreariness of Winterfell had played a part in her feelings for Joffrey… she had enough self-awareness to realize that. After all, she'd spent countless nights throughout the years imagining just that.

Do I just want someone who I can hold me while I faint? The notion sounded ridiculous…

But then why does it hurt so much? She thought as she twisted in her bed.

What did she want from her betrothed? The answer was obvious enough, to grow with him and have a family, to stand by his side as Mother did for Father… but the notion sounded hollow when she thought about Joffrey. She couldn't imagine herself at his side yet… she barely even knew him and she was already dreaming about their perfect future together, ignoring his own wants and desires. She was here dreaming about their future when he was out there, walking about like a shattered soul with the weight of the world on his shoulders, lonely… forever, it seemed. She seldom saw him with other people, not even his own family, and with their betrothal all but broken by his words it didn't seem she would ever get a chance to know him either. He had been reduced to some sort of ghost, barely seen in between the keep's hallways and rooms.

Her punishment went by quickly enough for some reason, and as the they joined the caravan south towards the Capital, Sansa found herself doing a lot of introspection, something she'd never devoted much time before. She didn't see Joffrey much, though she didn't look for him either, caught up in her own mind.

It was a surprise then when she found him near the Ruby Ford, the place the caravan had stopped for the rest of the day.

"Prince Joffrey!" she said, startled out of her own musings when she almost collided with him, seating in a strange position with his knees bent and crossed, facing the river with closed eyes.

"Lady Sansa," he said as he blinked, looking up. He seemed ready to storm off before he gazed behind her. "…And Septa Mordane?" he asked.

"I snuck out," she confessed as a slight, mischievous smile tried to break her composure. She hadn't done that since she'd been six years old…

"… Really?" he asked, surprised as he shifted his gaze to Lady, who had been following her dutifully.

"I needed some time alone… to think…" she told him simply, before shaking her head. "You don't need to run away, I was just passing through," she said as she kept walking past him.

"No, wait," he said when she walked to his other side.

She said nothing as she stop, looking at him quizzically.

"You… you can stay if you want," he said with a pained shrug.

"…Okay," Sansa told him as she took a seat over the next big rock next to Joffrey's, her feet barely out of the riverbed.

They stayed in silence for what seemed like an hour, Sansa slowly closing her eyes as she lost herself to her conflicted feelings and the river's constant thrumming.

"What are you thinking about?" Joffrey startled her.

She looked at him for a moment, the corner of her mouth rising slightly. "I'll tell you if you tell me," she said, "Though you'll have to be truthful," she added.

Joffrey seemed to consider her preposition very seriously, looking down at her rock before looking up again, "Alright, seems fair," he said, taking a deep breath as he looked back at the river before letting it out. "I was thinking about how someday I'd like to take a riverboat through the Forks… just the swaying currents and the wind. I'd stop at small villages for the night, perhaps sample their wines," he said.

"That sounds fun… soothing even. I suppose you'd have a lot of the Riverlands to explore… though you'd end up a bit smelly after a while," said Sansa as she twitched her nose, staring at the river as well.

"The thought hadn't even crossed my mind," he snorted with a vague smile. He turned quiet for a moment though, before letting out another breath, "It's just… I… used to like the notion… but now…" he trailed off helplessly, shrugging. "I don't really care anymore. I remember all the reasons why I'd like to do it, the understated excitement as I designed the boat I'd use, the smile I had when plotting out possible routes… I remember it all, but now the prospect of it just seems… dull, boring even," he said, looking at the cluster of leaves riding the river until he lost sight of them.

"What about you?" he suddenly asked, shaking his head.

Sansa scratched the bridge of her nose thoughtfully before answering. "I… it's a lot of stuff really. I've been thinking about my place in Winterfell and beyond… thinking about you too, actually," she said.

"How so?" Joffrey asked, looking intrigued despite himself.

"Well… you've been quite the mystery to me, to all of Winterfell I really. I've been trying to get to know you through other people, since getting a hold of you has turned out…"

"Difficult?" Joffrey provided with a wince.

Sansa smiled mirthlessly, nodding.

"What did you find then?" he asked after a minute.

Sansa leaned back as she combed her hair with her hands, breathing slowly, "Nothing that made much sense. Tommen said you were 'very mean', and Myrcella said Tommen was right but that you'd changed a lot lately. Your uncle Tyrion said you were 'quick to emotion', whatever that means… though I think that must have been the most inaccurate description of you I've ever heard," she said with a brief, unladylike snort.

"… I see," Joffrey muttered. He scowled when a fat drop of water landed on his head, and Sansa looked up to see the sky quickly filling with clouds.

"What I saw though, had nothing to do with any of that," she told him.

There was a long silence then, the longest in the evening. Only the sound of the river and Joffrey's irregular breathing disturbing it.

Finally, Joffrey tilted his head minutely. "And what did you see," he asked with a small voice.

Sansa looked at him thoughtfully, deciding to just say what she thought… the betrothal was already dead and buried anyway, Joffrey had been quite clear... "You are not mean nor 'quick to emotion'. You are a thoughtful young man who deeply cares about those around him, but have closed yourself to everyone around you. You seem so in control of every movement and gesture of your body that there's a strange stillness around you, and you seem to carry a weight so big it drains you of all emotion… you look… you…" Sansa hesitated at last, her prattling as Arya would call it reaching a standstill.

"I look..?" Joffrey asked, gazing at her eyes as the rain kept trickling down, the river turning turbulent.

"You look… broken," she finally spat out, "As if the weight finally crushed you. As if your soul had left your body behind, a lifeless husk in its place, as if you'd despaired for so long you can't even manage to care any longer," she said quickly, breathlessly.

Joffrey blinked rapidly as he gazed at something away from her, his hands coming together in front of his mouth as he leaned forward, not even deigning to look at her. His rejection seemed as clear as water.

"… I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," she said with a sigh, angry at herself. She looked at her rapidly soaking dress before she shook her head, "This was all before you told me about the betrothal"-

"Sansa, I"- Joffrey tried to interrupt her but Sansa shook her head, not even looking at him.

"No, no, it's okay, I think I understand… I…" she swallowed something sour before standing up, "You were clear enough back in Winterfell. I'll speak with Father later today, tell him I can't do it… he'll listen to me if I say it seriously," she said as she turned away and her heart ached painfully, wishing to get this over as soon as possible so it could stop hurting.

"SANSA!" Joffrey bellowed as she felt callused hands grabbing her shoulders and turning her around almost violently. She was speechless as she saw Joffrey crying openly, tears intermingling with the rain, his eyes red and his face twisting in bottomless angst, "It's not you, damnit! I told you it's not you!!!" he shouted in anger, his eyes crazed as the absent despair now bubbled forth like pus from an infected wound. "I, I, I…" he mouthed as he breathed erratically, still holding her shoulders as he struggled with the words, "I'm fighting a War, Sansa!" he finally bellowed, looking for all the world as if he didn't know what he was doing.

The way he said it sent a chill down her spine, but she willed herself to be brave despite it as Joffrey's iron self-control broke down and he took in a strangled breath. "It's all true, what you said, it's true," he choked almost quietly as he let her go, "I'm broken because I don't know what to do, I can't do it, it's impossible," he muttered as he closed his eyes and tried to rebuild himself.

"Joffrey, what war? Are, are the Targeryeans..?" she half asked, shaken by the way the stern façade had disintegrated.

Joffrey's attempts at rebuilding it failed as he laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Oh Sansa, if only, if only it were the Targeryeans… I'd choose a hundred dragons and a million Dothraki in a heartbeat, if only I could…" he whispered as he let himself fall on the muddy ground on his bum, his hands hiding his face as he breathed, ashamed.

Sansa stared at him as the hair at the back of her neck tingled, her hands shaking slightly as Joffrey coughed and then rubbed his face almost compulsively. He took in harsh breaths every two seconds, and when he lowered his hands his face gave away nothing once more. "Lady Sansa," he said with the saddest mockery of a smile she'd ever seen, "I… Forgive my outburst… I was merely, joking…" he muttered, looking drained.

"No," she said as she kneeled, the mud splattering her dress as she grabbed Joffrey fiercely by the arm, "You're not doing this again. A war against who? Joffrey, who are you fighting against?" she asked him.

"No one, I was-"

"Joffrey. You told me you'd be truthful," she said as she grabbed his head and practically yanked it so he looked at her eyes, her heart beating wildly. Please tell me, please make me understand, she thought as she willed him to talk.

"I…" Joffrey muttered as he didn't even resist her manhandling, his pale green eyes boring into her own and loosing themselves in memory. "The Cycle," he whispered, and the word sent goose bumps all over her body.

"What Cycle?" she asked, her voice almost strangled.

"… the White Walkers, the Others. Bran the Builder and all the other heroes merely contained them a few thousand year ago. They awaken once again… and I can't stop them…" he whispered hollowly, his eyes drooping away.

"The White Walkers… they're.. they're just a legend," she stuttered.

Joffrey looked listless, as if he'd given up on lying to her. "The Wall was not built to contain wildlings," he said as he stared at the river again, surging with the power of the rain above it. "I've seen them with my own eyes, felt the chilling bite of their blades, the snarling of the corpses as whole regiments were raised from the dead to hunt and kill the living…" He said distractedly.

"Joffrey… you… what…" she stuttered as Joffrey turned to gaze at her again.

"You wanted to know, now you do. Nothing has ever stopped them in the end, not any one of the countless civilization's they've exterminated throughout the ages has succeeded in stopping them," he trailed off as he shook his head. "What am I even doing…" he whispered before he took out his dagger and gazed at it thoughtfully.

He has to be insane, she thought in a daze, her chest feeling heavy. He sounded so sure, speaking from bitter experience.

"Joffrey… how can you know this?" she asked him.

He lifted his eyes from the dagger and looked at her, mulling about something before shrugging to himself very slightly. "Every time I die I wake up again in my room, three days after the death of Jon Arryn. I've been relieving this life for decades… possibly centuries by now… I saw everything fail against them, from cold steel to fire to magic… it's hopeless…" he said as he lifted the dagger and placed it over his heart.

"Joffrey what are you doing?!" she almost screeched as Joffrey tried to kill himself.

"Ending this life. Don't worry, you'll remember nothing," he said, his face drained of emotion as the dagger already pierced a bit of flesh.

"Joffrey don't!" she screamed as she grabbed his hands, trying to wrestle the dagger from his iron grip. "Sansa stop, you're going to hurt yourself!" he shouted at her, a slight bit of emotion returning to his voice as Sansa pulled at it with all her strength. She winced as she cut herself somehow with the edge, and Joffrey let the dagger go as if he'd been the one who'd hurt himself.

"Sansa! I'm sorry! I… I… this has all gone to shit…" he muttered as he tried to stand up but fell on the mud again, the rain pelting them both. Sansa shuffled away from him, still on the muddy bank as she held the dagger.

She was breathing quickly, her hands trembling wildly as she gazed at the dagger and the cut on her finger. She looked up to see Joffrey giving a step towards the river, and she despaired as she tried to think of a way to stop him from jumping in to his death.

"Magic, you said you tried magic against them, prove it!" she screeched quickly, trying to reason him out of his madness.

Joffrey stared at her for a second, shaking his head, "If I 'prove it', would you give me back my dagger?" he asked her, grey faced.

"Yes. But if you can't then we're going to see the Maesters…" she said quickly, her mouth dry as he nodded, "And you'll forget all about this, this madness," she added, only for Joffrey to nod again, "And, and… and you'll let me help you," she fumbled, her eyes widening as Joffrey kept nodding through it all, though the last request made him smile bitterly. He was sure of himself.

He really is insane… she despaired as Joffrey closed his eyes. "It's not really magic per se… But its close enough, a fragment of my soul given limited autonomy, to serve as a battlefield weapon…" he trailed off as he breathed in deeply.

Sansa wiped away the rain from her eyes as she herself breathed, trying not to crumble as Joffrey opened his eyes. She gave him a tentative smile, nodding slowly as if he were a child, "Y-You see? We can go to, to my Father, he can send a raven to Maester Luwin. He could, know of a poultice, or-"

"Sansa," he said with a sad smile, "Look behind you."

She turned and came face to face with a silver lion the size of a warhorse, strange patterns running through its fur, its great white mane tickling her as the beast rubbed its great head against her arm, almost making her fall into the river as it keened softly.

"Enough of that, come here you big fat cat," Joffrey said with a slight smile, bidding the lion to come to him and rubbing its fur as it purred, still looking bigger than Joffrey even after it sat by his side. Lady was looking at Joffrey and the lion confusedly, looking at one and then to the other, back and forth as if she had double vision.

Sansa shook her head, staring at the lion and blinking again and again, "No… it can't be true, you… you had that lion waiting for you, it's all a sick joke," she blabbered as she held her trembling hands close to her mouth.

Joffrey looked pained to see her like this, looking at the river again before he shook his head and returned his gaze to Sansa, extending a hand to his right and slowly tilting it as a trillion tiny golden and purple lines materialized out of thin air and twisted upon themselves, multiplying into even more lines, recursively repeating a pattern until the glow went away and Joffrey held a long bastard sword in his hand, the Valyrian Steel shining under the setting, overcast sun with a golden tinge, very similar but somehow different to the blue one she'd seen on Ice the two or three times she'd spotted Father with the greatsword.

"No…" she whispered as the dagger slipped from her hands and she held her mouth. "No…" she whispered again as she looked at Joffrey with his golden sword and his silver lion, like a character come alive from the Age of Heroes. He left the sword there as he walked up to her, slowly kneeling and getting his dagger from the floor.

"Thank you… Brightroar is a bit unwieldy, and I wouldn't recommend drowning to anyone… ever," he said in dark humor, looking as if he wanted to say something else before shaking his head and stepping back.

"You… do you really- come back- every time you die..?" Sansa asked hollowly.

Joffrey nodded as he walked back to his place by the rock, "In essence, yes… don't worry though, you'll be back in Winterfell, with your family… it'll only take a few minutes. You won't remember any of this," he said as he started to place the dagger over his heart and Sansa shrieked in near panic, trying to get his attention.

"If it doesn't matter what I do then I'll kill myself!" she screeched, looking everywhere around her for something sharp.

Joffrey looked as if he'd been struck in the head, "What," he said.

"I'll kill myself if you don't stop this… this stupidity! I'll, I'll do it!" she said as she turned wildly and finally ended up staring at the river.

Joffrey still seemed stunned as he shook his head, "This isn't some idiotic maiden's tale you woman! What the fuck do you think you'll achieve?!" he shouted as he stood up.

"Why do you care?! You'll just see me again in a month!" She shouted as she walked into the river, the powerful current trying to shove her downwards as she walked deeper still, Lady barking like mad from the shore.

Joffrey seemed absolutely confused as he waddled after her, "Sansa stop damnit!" he shouted.

She stopped and turned back to stare at him, "Now you drop that, that damned dagger or the last thing you'll see before supposedly waking up again is me drowning and screaming in despair because you were a-a-a stupid, headstrong idiot! Too stuck in his misery for his own good!" she screamed back.

Joffrey stopped on his tracks, staring down the river, "Sansa, let's just step out right now… let's be reasonable," he said as he held his hands up in a pacifying manner, as if she were Rickon.

Sansa stared at him for a second before some sort of relentless rage she'd never knew she'd possessed assaulted her and her face disfigured itself in fury. "Reasonable?! REASONABLE?!?!" she screamed in righteous anger, "You're the one that tells me the world is ending and that you're a an immortal sorcerer and you expect me to be reghlought"- she was cut off by a great wave which pummeled her hip and made her loose her footing, knocking her down and dragging her deeper into the river.

She tumbled under the powerful currents before she broke the surface, coughing desperately as the rain pelted her eyes and she was pulled down again, breathing water as she slammed against an underwater rock and she tumbled in a sea of bubbles. She broke the surface again with a harrowing breath, and she saw Joffrey swimming like a madman towards her, weaving atop the waves with powerful thrusts and breathing only when he had to.

"SANSA!" he shouted when he saw her, the rain muffling his voice.

"JOFFREGH!" She tried to answer but she whirled underwater again when she hit some sort of fallen tree, her head thrumming like a winter storm as she sank and sank and sank. Her vision turned blurry as her lungs burned and her mouth opened as if by its own volition, breathing in more water.

Her head broke the surface once more, and she breathed in a little bit of blessed air before she coughed water, desperately trying to breathe again but unable to do so as more water kept coming out of her lungs. "Hold on! Hold on Sansa!" Joffrey spluttered between the waves, holding her over his back in a strange position.

She kept coughing water as Joffrey swam through the currents, dodging a big chunk of rock which would have ended slammed against them in but a second. "You didn't kill yourself," she spluttered in between short breaths, feeling a terrible pain in her ribs.

"Keep your strength Sansa, keep breathing," he shouted as he flipped and grabbed her from the front, looking everywhere around them as they kept going down the overflowing Red Fork, the sun almost completely hidden under the horizon and the clouds, leaving darkness in its wake.

Sansa grabbed on tight, the strong currents trying to rip them apart as Joffrey stared at her eyes, "There should be a bend coming up ahead! Don't let go!" He shouted at her face.

"My chest, I can't breathe," she managed in between rasps, the terrible pain spreading throughout her body.

"Come on Sansa, short quick breaths, you can do it…" He said before a wave splashed against them and she almost lost her grip on Joffrey, "Be brave Sansa," said Joffrey as he paddled a bit to their right, "I know you can," he said desperately, eyeing something coming up downriver.

Silent tears streamed down her eyes as the pain made her dizzy, a horrible burn throbbing inside her lungs, an agony stronger than any she'd ever felt. She was cold, though she was not shivering as hard as moments before, "You've seen me..? In… other lives?" she asked him as she blinked, "Was I… was I brave then?" she said, coughing in between.

"You were, yes you were Sansa," Joffrey said as he swam, dragging her behind, "Even when everything was taken away from you, you were brave," he said in between the waves.

Joffrey's assurances made her strangely happy, joyous even. Whatever her future beheld, she had faced it head on… she had not been a disappointment to Mother and Father. "Good…" she said, her strength deserting her out of nowhere as she sank and the bend in the river approached.

The last thing she saw was Joffrey turning back to look at her in horror, his face as far away from the stone like facade as it could possibly be.

-.PD.-