First a warning: I wrote this in a foul mood, and it is a dark story, if you have a weak stomach don't read it, it also will most likely increase your Joffrey hate

Warnings:

Mention of:

-rape

-abuse

-torture

-violence

-Joffrey

Also: swearing, violence, depression...

I hate myself for it

I own nothing


Sansa knelt in front of the bed, only wearing her tiny nightgown, waiting for her new husband. She assumed the position which Joffrey had beaten into her long time ago. The last eight months she had been married to him, her own personal hell. They married her to him, only a day after her father had been killed by them, saying it would be necessary and that she had had to be the good obedient girl. She had been too afraid to fight back, she had complied and what she had gotten was pain. Joffrey had found it amusing to torture her, first he had let the Kingsguard beaten her, when he had been bored by that he had taken matters in his own hands; it hadn't ended during their whole marriage.

She had thought it wouldn't ever end. Already at the first night when he first had ravished her, a pain and humiliation she never would forget, he had beaten her bloody afterwards, letting her lie weeping on the floor. He had broken her ankles, her bones, had hit and bruised every inch of her body, every day during the entire eight month. It had been particularly cruel after the Kingslayer had died by the hands of her brother. But even a normal days had been unbearable, she had lost all her will to fight back, had yield up to her fate of pain and humiliation the by the hands of Joffrey.

But then the messenger had arrived, the King's uncle, Tyrion Lannister, who had served his father during the war, would come to the city, to marry her.

The latest attack of Stannis Baratheon had been stroke back by Lord Tywin and the Tyrell's army. The price for their help had been a marriage between Margery Tyrell and the King so she could become Queen. Nobody had cared that Sansa was Queen, even if in name only, in reality she had been Joffrey's plaything, to beat and ravish as he pleased.

Their bond had been undone quickly by the High Septon; under the pretext she would be barren, only because she wasn't pregnant after eight month. It had hurt her deeply, she would have had bare a child but Joffrey only gave her pain, how could her womb quicken under such circumstances, even with his seed?

And the gods' cruelty wasn't over; they had revealed to her that after the marriage would be undone, she would not be killed. In the first moment she thought she had gotten a chance to be free, the first tiny bit of hope since months, but Tywin Lannister didn't want to lose her claim and so he had given her to his only remaining son and heir. Maybe the death would have been more merciful, but Lannister weren't.

She hadn't been able to fight back, she only could do what she did for so long, doing what they demand, kneeling when he wrapped his cloak around her, not weeping, kissing him, being the obedient girl, being what they demand.

And now, she awaited him, on her knees, waiting for him to pick up where Joffrey stopped. But maybe she was lucky and his hits will be lighter than Joffrey's.

The door opened and accompanied by the shouts of the court, participating at the bedding ceremony, her new dwarf husband waddled into the room, fully clothed.

Sansa lowered her head and waited for his orders, every muscle in her body still aching from the 'proper goodbye' Joffrey had given her last night.

The marriage had been undone first thing in the morning, after the news about Lord Tyrion's arrival today had a day prior, so Joffrey had used his last night as her husband to do everything to her his sick mind could imagine. With a cruel smile he ravished all entrances of her body, beating her everywhere nobody would see, the Tyrells shouldn't see what he was until it was too late.

In the morning they undone the marriage and she had been brought into the Sept where the dwarf already waited to marry her.

He had been in dirty clothed, he had not even bothered to change, he was ugly, malformed and if Sansa had had any tears or feelings left she would have had cried by his sight.

"My Lady, what are you doing?" She heard his deep voice in front of her, he sounded puzzled. Sansa didn't dare to stand up or move. Joffrey had played this game very often with her. She would look up unsolicited and he would hit her, but not answering at a question had been even worst.

"Waiting for my Lord-Husband." She answered obedient and humble, only moving her lips, not looking up.

"On the floor?" He stepped nearer to her and offered his hand. "Come on, let's go to bed."

'Bed did he said bed?' She asked herself bewildered.

'A traitor's daughter deserves no bed' had been one of the first things Joffrey had said to her after her first bedding, which had happened on the floor in front of the bed.

Slapping her he had kicked her knees and forced her down on the floor, demanding his right. Afterwards he had thrown her aside like a used handkerchief. It had been the worst pain Sansa had ever felt, until then. He had ordered her to sleep on the floor besides the bed, like a dog. He had never allowed her in the bed. She always had been cold in the nights; they had only allowed her a small blanked so she wouldn't be sick so soon.

In this position Joffrey could kick her awake in the mornings, demanding his right again and Sansa had to follow.

Sansa had never expected it would be different any time in the future, she hadn't even been allowed to have a cushion at a chair, but her new husband offered her his hand, he was the first one since what felt like eternity.

She looked up and even saw something like an encouraging expression on his face, maybe even a friendly smile, she couldn't tell because of his strange features. To afraid to object, but still fearing a cruel joke, she took the hand and rose to her feet. The small man bowed and gestured to the bed. Insecure Sansa walked over to the bed and climbed on the mattress, she nearly fell over when she tried to stabilize herself on the soft material, she wasn't used to it any more.

Home in Winterfell, she might have slept in a warm soft bed but the last eight month only the cold floor had been for her. Finding a firm hold she leaned against the head board on a pillow, it was so soft she sunk into it. A small memory of better times came to her mind until she felt the mattress bowing under her new husband, he climbed beside her. Lying next to her he carefully mustered Sansa, it made her uncomfortable.

"How are you my Lady?" Why did he asked how she was, why would he care? "I am not sure what they told you about me, but be sure, I, for my part, am sure you don't want this and I won't force you to do anything you don't want."

A trick! It had to be a trick, he only wanted an excuse to beat her, to blame her for it, to feel superior, she knew that game and she wouldn't play it.

"I am your wife my Lord." She said determined and pulled her nightgown over her head, showing him his new wife. "And this is our wedding-night." She looked at him but she only found a shocked face, he starred at her and suddenly Sansa knew why. He saw what Joffrey had done to her in the last night and the nights before. But why was he so shocked? Why had he stopped? Joffrey never had stopped because of her bruises, he had been proud of his doing. Lord Tyrion's face slowly changed and a pitiful expression took the place of the shock, she would have preferred the shock.

"My nephew?" He asked her, averting his eyes. Sansa nodded, she didn't know what happened right now. Why didn't he already start? She knew Joffrey and his cruelty wasn't normal but she didn't expect that anybody would care, especially not a Lannister, to stop his desire for her body.

She knew how the court had reacted when they saw her after the first night with Joffrey, when she ran to the Queen and the Septons for help. The Queen had only told her she as woman had to endure it, because all men would be like that and the Septons had said it would be the way of the world, natural order, it would be her place to obey.

Nobody cared, no knights, no common men, all accepted what Joffrey had done, nobody ever said a word, only the Hound had once raised his voice, but a single word from Joffrey had silenced him forever and then he had disappeared during the attack by Stannis.

She heard how Lord Tyrion sighted and closed her eyes, expecting him to oversee his nephew's deed and claiming his right, but nothing followed.

Sansa heart rustling and then something soft and warm covered her body. When she opened her eyes she saw him pulled a blanked over her, covering her nudity.

"Don't take me wrong Sansa, but not today." He said, clearly. "I won't do it only because we are obligated to do it. Before anything else your bruises should heal."

So the day had come, Joffrey destroyed her so much that even the ugly deformed dwarf was disgusted by her. Sansa would have wept bitterly, if anything would be left, but she had no tears.

But then she bethought herself, she laid in a warm bed, without fresh bruises, or pain, or him moving brutally inside her, it seemed he even somehow cared for her. She endured too much not to use the given opportunity; maybe tomorrow it was all over again. So she cuddled in her blanked, she would be warm for the first time in months, she soon experienced that nearer him it was even warmer, so she crawled close to him and fell asleep.

-##-

Waking up in the morning the first thing Sansa wondered about was why she felt so warm. It was a shock for her. Had she crawled inadvertently into Joffrey's bed again? She had done it once and he had broken her fingers as a punishment for it. They never had healed properly, she still had crooked finger like a claws. In addition to her punishment he had token her like a boy afterwards, hurting her more than ever. Even worst was that he had liked it and he had repeated it many nights, during the last days he only had done it that way. He had found it amusing to hear her cry wind in pain.

But then she noticed that she didn't feel new bruises, or a sharp pain waking her. She then remembered, she wasn't Joffrey's anymore and her new husband allowed her to sleep in the bed.

Looking around she didn't found him, only a used sheet besides her and her folded gown at the foot of the bed. Grabbing it she pulled the material over her head. She thought about what happened.

Wasn't Lord Tyrion like his nephew, could it be that he was better, that he won't enjoy torturing her?

Maybe, but she won't trust on it, not as long as she wasn't sure, he was a Lannister, how could she?

But deep in her mind, in the part she had locked away for so long, the part who wasn't broken to an obedient slave, the part who wanted to believe in white knights and just Lords and graceful Kings, the part she retreated to when nobody was around, a tiny bit of hope formed. Maybe it would be better than she thought, maybe he wasn't a monster, maybe the gods had granted her a good husband, who might love her, so she could love him?

'Silly girl', she thought to herself, something like that didn't exist.

She was startled by the door pushed loudly open; she fast straightened up, sitting up in a hurry to see her new husband walking in.

"My Lady." He greeted her friendly, bowing towards her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you my Lord." She answered, bowing her own head, before observing with growing tension how he approached her side of the bed.

She flinched when he reached out with his hand, in an instinct move she brought the blanked over her body like a shield, she forget to suppress it and immediately feared the punishment. But then she noticed that he only hold a small jar to her and she relaxed a bit.

"I brought you balsam for your bruises from the Maester." He told her subdued averting his gaze.

Sansa was stunned, nobody ever let her see a Maester who would tent to her wounds, she had had to suffer in silence, had she wept to loud she just had been hit again.

"Thank you my Lord." Sansa took the vial and gave him a shy smile, she didn't know why, it felt strange. She hadn't smiled in a long time, never had thought she would smile for him But this small gesture of him fed the little bit of hope in her. She was thankful, her words wasn't just a phrase she rehearsed to avoid further punishment.

"It's a pleasure, my Lady." He told her, giving her an appreciating glance, before marching around the bed talking more cheerfully. "I am afraid I must apologize. It seems the servants didn't bring your wardrobe. I only found one dressing-gown and I am afraid your wedding dress, which looked stunning, if I might say that, didn't survive the bedding ceremony." Sansa blushed by the compliment but then shame crept in her for what she would have to say.

"My Lord, the servants didn't make a mistake, I simply don't possess more."

"Only two gowns? And where is the rest of your possession." He asked her suspiciously, gazing at her.

'My woman doesn't need gowns, only when she has to be in court, and she doesn't need anything, I am her fixed point.' Joffrey's words sounded in her head again, he had taken everything away she had had, only allowing her two gowns and the nightgown. Sansa had had to wear them in court, but after the first month it hadn't mattered anyway. She had only been sparsely allowed to leave the royal bedchamber since then, and when only for one of Joffrey's sick games. She had nothing, Joffrey hadn't left her anything. Lord Tyrion must have seen her facial expression and understood, than he lowered his gaze and blushed.

"I am sorry my Lady." He whispered to her, climbing on the bed he seated himself besides her. "Maybe I should say you some things. I wanted to talk to you before the wedding but my father's schedule and orders didn't allow me. I feel awful about that, about everything. But you must know, since my brother died I feel obligated to follow all of my father's wishes without questioning. But hear me out please. If you want, if not I will leave."

He looked up to her and Sansa only could nod, didn't knowing what else to do. She sat there in the bed, balsam in her one hand, and a blanked in the other, untouched by him.

"I am not my nephew, and even if I married you against your will" He looked down. "I promise, I won't do anything else against it. Like I said, my father's orders. But I swear, by all honour I possess, I will never hurt you or stand idly by when somebody, even the King try to hurt you. I will treat you like you deserve, like the high-born Lady you are. You don't have to share the bed with me or even acknowledge me if you don't want. I would like if you do, sometimes at least, I can be good to you Sansa, I promise." Sansa didn't know what to say, her experience of the last month screamed 'liar', all in her, her common sense, screamed 'liar', but the other part in her wanted to believe his words, wanted to be his loved wife, rather than a thing to be used as pleased.

"First I will do is sending for some merchants, my Lady shouldn't be without a large wardrobe or other possessions." he tried to lighten the mood, only benefiting the part in Sansa which wanted to believe. It overwhelmed the rest of her, forcing tears in her eyes; only the part of her who still suspected a trap had to fight back.

"I thank you my Lord-Husband." She replied courteous, trying to hide her eyes behind her hair to hide the winning tears.

"Tyrion, my Lady, please call me Tyrion."

A knock at the door, Sansa jumped backwards, nearly dropping the balsam. Her new husband jumped up to, but from the bed, and waddled to the door. He with a great very tasty smelling plate.

"I thought you might wish to eat something." He exhaled and placed the plate on her bedside-table. "I hope it matches your taste."

Sansa's eyes widened and her mouth watered. The plate was full with delicacies, and lemon cakes. She hadn't had lemon cakes since her father died, Joffrey knew exactly how much she liked them and had forbidden the kitchen to bring her such. But the plate was full; she hadn't seen so much food for a long time.

After the first month as Joffrey's wife she had started to eat excessive, trying to get fat and unappealing, hoping Joffrey would let go of her. But instead he had found out all too quickly and starved her in their rooms for an entire month, hitting her when she was too weak to participate in his pleasure he hadn't held back in all the time. He still had come to her more than one time a day.

Greedy she took the cakes, eating like a savage, not caring at first. She embraced the sweet taste she had forsaken already.

When she grabbed the third cake she realized her mistake, she gave him a reason to punish her, she didn't act like a Lady, she had fallen for his trap. Looking up fearfully she found Lord Tyrion sitting in a chair next to the window watching her with a peaceful smile. Sansa blushed, realizing how she must look like.

"Oh, please, don't be disturbed by me." He held up his hands to her and a small barking laughter escape him. Again the part which wanted to believe grew stronger.

-##-

The days went along and Sansa felt more and more comfortable near Tyrion, he held on to all of his promises and she slowly started to believe all were sincere. She didn't left the room though, mostly because she feared to run into Joffrey, because it was safe inside.

First he had sent for the dressmaker, she had been scared when the doors had been opened and more than a dozen men and women had flooded the room. They had swirled around her, asking what she would like, offering her expensive fabrics and jewellery. It had taken her some time to realize what they had been and even longer to find her voice. The only human she had seen in month other than Joffrey had been the woman who had watched her, so she wouldn't try to amuse herself when Joffrey had been away. She remembered how she had spent nearly every day sitting in a chair, staring out of the window, wishing she would have wings to fly away, but she hadn't had, and nothing else had been allowed.

But now, after they had done their duty, she could spend her time as she liked, trying on her new wardrobe for example. Tyrion equipped her with more than two dozen gowns for all occasions, small clothes and even jewellery, she wore the stones in the chambers, imagine would only be his Lady in a palace and never had met Joffrey. She danced for herself, tripping over her feet because she was out of practice, but she imagined she would be in a great hall on a feast, people laughed and cheered, like she always had wanted when she had been a child.

He also had provided her with books, stories from all over the world. She had a hard time reading them, after eight month without a single letter in front of her eyes she was out of practice. With needlework it was even worst. She always loved needlework, but her skills were even worse than in reading and she needed time to get accustomed to it again. Her crippled fingers had made it even worse; she had to learn how to hold a needle in the first place again.

She could eat enough, and in the evenings she listened to stories he told her before wrapping up in the bed. She even let him hold her during the night; it gave her a crude sense of security. She felt better than she had done for a long time.

She could overlook his dwarfism and deformities for the fact that he was good to her, she didn't care anymore that he was a Lannister or her enemy. Joffrey and the Queen and Lord Tywin were her enemies, but he, how could he be her enemy and treated her so different?

And then there was the issue with the status of their marriage, nobody knew but it hadn't been consummated yet. Sansa was glad about it, she knew of the pain the act itself would bring, it always brought pain. She never had felt other than pain when Joffrey had done it and a Septa had assured her it wouldn't be unusual.

Sansa sometimes asked herself how her mother had endured it all the years how she had been able to love her father, considering the pain he had caused her.

Tyrion had said the consummation wouldn't be necessary, nobody could tell if they had done it or not except for themselves. Sometimes she asked herself if he even wanted her, if he wanted Joffrey's used toy, then she felt like such.

But there was this one night:

They had lain in bed when he crawled to the foot of the bed to grab a book. He had accidently brushed a particular sensitive point at Sansa's feet, making her giggle. They had drunken wine that evening so her guard had been weakened.

┬┤Ah, I see, my Lady is ticklish. ` He asked her playfully a huge grin in his face when he had started to move his fingers quickly over her soles.

First she had giggled, then she had laughed hard, when he had moved up, never overstepping the boundaries of childish play. Tickling her, until she had doubled in laughter. When he had stopped Sansa had felt so good she had forgotten everything around her.

She had looked up, hair messy and blushed red, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks and had found him marvelling her with wide eyes.

"Such beauty." He had explained, causing her to blush like a maid.

Yes, he wanted her.

She started to trust him, sometimes she even dared to ask about her family. Her forced isolation had cut her from all information about them.

He had told her that Robb had married a Frey girl and allied with the Greyjoys. He stood his ground, the Ironborn and Northerner currently holding half of the Westerlands and that it looked like the war would stagnate over the coming winter.

It had built up more hope in her that one day Joffrey's head would grace a spike. She was even more certain of that when he had told her that Petyr Baelish married her mother, in exchange for the aid of his agents and money as well as a Lordship for him. He was now Lord of Harrenhal, Warden of the South. Lord Tywin had been furious because Baelish had taken the treasury of King's Landing with him when he had left.

She asked herself what would happen to Tyrion when or better if her brother would win, would he be allowed to live, or would he die for being born a Lannister. She didn't want him to die, she already owned him too much for wishing that.

This evening they sat side by side in their bed, reading books. It was already after dawn and the keep was silent when the door was kicked open.

Sansa flinched by the sight of Joffrey marching through the door, the book fell out of her hands and she grabbed the blanked to shield herself, looking fanatic to her side. She noticed that Tyrion wasn't there anymore.

He had already jumped from the mattress, positioning himself between Joffrey and the bed.

"I am here to claim my right as King." Joffrey exhaled, he was drunk. His words sent a creep down Sansa's spine. How could he? She didn't want that, all her bruises were healed and it was the first time since long she could move without pain.

"Go, she isn't yours to claim anymore." Tyrion spat in the King's face, his voice sounded like he was the stranger himself.

"I claim your little cunt whenever I want uncle." Joffrey smiled back vicious. Sansa was as afraid as in her first wedding night, fearing it would be start all over again.

She heard the sound before she realized what happened, Tyrion slapped his nephew, so hart the King stumbled back, holding his cheek.

"You dare ..." The second slap, this time Joffrey fell, Sansa thought her heart would stop, Tyrion, her husband, slapped the King, so hart she could see blood running down his nose.

"Go, before I hit you again." Totally bewildered and holding his cheek Joffrey slowly fled the room, gazing back dangerously. There were no guards with him and even if, she doubted anyone would dare to lay hand on Lord Tywin's last remaining son.

Sansa only starred at her husband, and when she saw him closing the door, and coming back to her, asking her how she would be, all her doubts remaining in her disappeared, He defended her like a knight would. Tears streamed down her cheeks when he climbed on the bed again, his face worried towards her.

"Is everything all right? Why are you crying Sansa?" He asked emphatically, giving her an assuring smile.

"Nothing, it is nothing." She assured him, wiping away the tears. "Thank you my Lord."

"Tyrion." He insisted.

"Thank you, Tyrion." she corrected herself, she steeled herself before continuing. "Let me thank you."

She knew it would hurt, Joffrey had told her that when he had told her how she had to thank him properly, for him it was just a sick game, but this was the first time she actually wanted to do it, on her own afford. She was willing to endure the pain.

He didn't object, so Sansa lowered her head between his legs, stopping in front of his crotch opening her mouth and waited for the hand grabbing her hair firmly. She closed her eyes, it was always easier this way, but nothing happened.

"Ehm, Sansa? What are you doing?" She heard him asking puzzled from above. Didn't he know what to do? Or was she supposed to do something else, didn't Joffrey showed her correctly what to do? She looked up, seeing his face fixating on her.

"The King told her to assume this position." She explained truthful. "He that could easily garb my hair and trust into my throat, he said this is how to thank a man properly." She added the last sentences low. His face darkened for a moment before smiling sympathetically at her, cupping her cheeks carefully he guided her face to his, nose to nose.

"This certainly isn't how it is done Sansa, and you certainly, err, don't have to do this to thank me." he told her calmly.

What did he mean? Would he require anything else, something that would hurt more? Her hopes went down again.

"Wish you something else?" She asked with tremble lips.

"Yes, I will." Her stomach dropped. "A kiss, if it's no trouble for you?" Sansa's eyed widened, except for the kiss at their wedding they never did that. Joffrey never had done it, only one time after their wedding, one time, his wormy lips on hers had nauseated her and then he laughed mad and bite on her lips, drawing blood, she still had a little scar. But if this was his wish she was determinant to do it, she nodded and leaned close.

She felt his lips on hers, soft, gentle, one of his hands cupped her cheek again and she caught herself leaning in to his touch. It was so different to all she experienced, everything Joffrey had done hurt, there had been only pain. But this felt good. She leaned closer, lightly parting her lips, his tongue was there, slowly licking her lower lip, and then it shared a place with hers. She followed his lead, moaning slightly in his mouth, a sound she never made before and then she flung her arms around him.

-##-

The days after the kiss were filled with other discoveries, she never imagined, even though they still didn't consummate their bond, their relationship became very intimate, she learned that what Joffrey had done to her was certainly not how it should have been, Tyrion had even said something about pleasure, she wasn't sure if that was right.

However they kissed now, and holding hands, he didn't push her to do anything and she was thankful for that. All her doubts of him were away but her feelings for him were still split, did she love him?

She didn't know, Sansa was sure she was supposed to love her husband but even if she did, she didn't remember how love felt. She felt security.

He cared for her, that she knew, that she could see, but did he love her? She didn't know, she didn't remember how it was to be loved. Joffrey took all that away from her.

Today they had to attend a feast, with Joffrey. Sansa had feared what might happened one day, what he might do. The entire evening she hadn't left Tyrion's side, hadn't spoke to anyone, not even the Tyrells who had wanted to talk to her so eagerly. She had grabbed Tyrion's arm for protection when Joffrey was near, but he never came to them, until the late evening.

"You know uncle, you won't be able to protect your little wife forever. You know, soon I will have her, no matter where you hide her, this I promise you." He whispered to them walking by, grinning at them with his wormy lips and disappearing in the crowd again.

Sansa glanced to Tyrion, his face darkened and he gazed at Joffrey's back, long time nothing happened until he turned to her.

"Tomorrow we will leave." He told her clearly

"Where?"

"West"

-##-

The King hadn't been aware of them leaving. Tyrion had let all their possessions loaded on a vehicular and then they had left in a hurry, only accompanied by a small host, lead by Ser Bronn, one of Tyrion's men. They all were sellswords, his men. Sansa hid herself in the carriage, behind the curtains, she had the feeling if she looked out one of Joffrey's men would spot her and bring her back. It was stupid she knew that but she couldn't do differ.

After two weeks she saw that the men had raised a peace-banner, she hadn't thought much to it but she had noticed that Tyrion was more and more nervous every day.

Three weeks in the journey the carriage stopped and Ser Bronn came to them, looking through the curtains.

"It's time."

By these words Tyrion stood up, laid a hand on the folded hands in her lap and said she should be calm before leaving her.

What was wrong? What happened? Sansa felt a knot in her stomach, fear in her bones, she started to shake and cocked her ears to listen what happened outside.

She heard Tyrion's voice, he talked to a stranger.

"Say your King I bring him his sister back."


I warned you!

This is the result of a very long process, so sorry if I repeated myself

There will be a second chapter, if I stop hating myself for this

Please R&R