Love and Control - A Game of Thrones Fan Fiction

Chapter X - Sansa

I thought that I'd try a new idea for this chapter, writing from Sansa's point of view. I hope you enjoy it and if it proves popular, I may write as Sansa again!

Anyway, here it is, Chapter Ten of 'Love and Control.'

ENJOY!

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I feel like I could scream.

Bellow at the top of my lungs, releasing all of the emotions that I've had no choice but to bottle up. If I could, I'd scream at everyone who had wronged me; Joffrey, Cersei, Jaime, Ser Ilyn Payne, Ser Meryn Trant, and the countless others who's names I can't bear to recall.

In fact, even Margaery has wronged me, though she maintains the idea that she is innocent enough, she has stolen the only piece of protection I had, the assurance that I would become Queen, therefore preventing Joffrey from hurting me too much.

But now even that has been taken away, I've been branded a traitor for the crimes of my family, and sentanced to spend the rest of my life as Joffrey's prisoner. As Ser Petyr Baelish once told me, 'Joffrey is not the sort of boy to give up his toys.' It pleases Joffrey to see me in pain, so I must be strong. I will not let him see my true emotions. I must be the Stark that I was born to be.

But it's hard, hard to be as strong as every other member of my family has been. My father was strong when he faced his execution, my brother Robb is brave enough to oppose Joffrey and start a war against him. Arya was strong enough to run away and remain undetected by Lannister men, my mother is strong enough not to give in to the regret that most likely haunts her. Even Bran is stronger than me, he can't walk yet he must run.

As far as the standards of my family go, I'm the runt of the litter. Accomplished, smart and attractive yes. But I lack courage, tenacity and above all else, the cunning to get myself out of here.

I lack the qualities needed to be a true Stark.

So instead of taking matters into my own hands, I sit still, maintaining the facade of the perfect high-born Lady. I pretend to be sad but understanding as to why it is impossible for me to marry Joffrey. I even serve his new wife, the one who stole my place, in the hope that I will be trusted by her, and can possibly use this trust to my advantage in future.

"Sansa!" I hear Margaery trill from the next room. I put down what I've been doing, fixing a tear in one of her underskirts, and glide into the room where the future Queen Regent, Margaery Tyrell, is lounging on a couch, sipping from the glass of Dornish wine that one of her other ladies, probably Marissa. I curtsey as is obligatory, and await her instruction.

"Sansa, little dove." I wince at the name she has taken to calling me, the same name that Cersei often used before I was disowned as Joffrey's bride. "My new Lady will be here soon, her name is Lady Arienne. I want you to show her 'the ropes,' so to speak. Teach her what she will be expected to do, make sure that she keeps me happy. The King doesn't like it when I'm unhappy."

She doesn't say it out loud, but I know exactly what she means. If this girl messes up, it's your fault.

I feel like I should just give up now, though I know nothing about her. Marissa and Jayne, though sweet and harmless, are completely oblivious to suffering and have lived the easy life that I should have. They have never had to suffer, their bellies have always been full, they've never had to watch a family member be murdered. I dislike them for how easy their lives have been.

If this new girl is like them, as I assume she probably will be - Margaery doesn't like her Ladies to have a brain of their own - then I will be doomed. What would Joffrey do to me? Have me stripped and beaten again? Only this time, his Uncle Tyrion wouldn't be able to intervene. I shudder at the horrifying memory. I will never go back there again.