Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/434072.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Joffrey_Baratheon/Sansa_Stark
  Character:
      Sansa_Stark, Joffrey_Baratheon
  Additional Tags:
      Humiliation, Verbal_Humiliation, Verbal_Abuse, Sadism, Voyeurism, Abuse,
      Emotional_Abuse, Physical_Abuse, Suicidal_Thoughts, Underage_Character,
      Canon-Typical_Violence, Mild_Language, Mild_Sexual_Content, Non
      Consensual, Rape/Non-con_Elements
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-14 Words: 807
****** A Title She Could Be Proud Of ******
by agirlnamedtruth
Summary
     Since that first day in the court, in front of all those people,
     Sansa had been called into Joffrey’s room and forced to her knees at
     least once a week.
Notes
     Please heed the warnings. This was written for Hurt/Comfort_Bingo and
     may be triggering. This story contains underage characters however
     there is no actual penetrative sex involved (inappropriate touching
     at most).
See the end of the work for more notes
Sansa could feel the tears burning hot on her skin as they ran down her cheeks.
It made him smile when she cried so she didn’t bother to hide them.
Since that first day in the court, in front of all those people, she’d been
called into Joffrey’s room and forced to her knees at least once a week.
Sometimes it was just him and all she’d have to do was kneel there, simpering
while he talked about all the things he’d do to her when they were married.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she itched to ask him why don’t you have the
balls enough to do them now and get them over with?.
Other times though, they weren’t alone. Ever since his uncle’s misguided gift,
he’d make his Hound sneak away to the brothels for him and pick him up a couple
of whores. Never less than two, he didn’t dare touch them himself.
He’d place them on the bed and make her kneel far enough away that she could
still see them perfectly. He’d make them hit each other and writhe against each
other, a graphic show of sex and violence. The first time she turned her head
away in shame only for Joffrey to grab her hair and twist her head back so she
had to look. She couldn’t help but think a little shaper, a little more to the
left, my love, and it will all be over.
“Look at them!” He shouted loud in her ear. “That’s what you are, a filthy,
traitor whore. What are you?”
She shook her head, refusing to say it. He tightened his hand in her hair and
with the other one he slapped her across the cheek, an action that didn’t even
hurt anymore, it had happened too often.
“Say it or I’ll put you up there.” He threatened, pointing up at the girls
almost dramatically.
“I’m a filthy, traitor whore.” She said in a monotone, knowing as soon as she
said it that it wouldn’t be good enough.
“Properly! Like you mean it!”
“I’m a filthy TRAITOR whore!” She screamed at him, making the word traitor
stand out because that would be the one title she’d be proud to wear.
“Good.” He said with that infuriatingly smug smile he had. “And whose traitor
whore are you?”
“Yours.” She said, not even resisting this time.
“Yes, you are.” He nodded and finally let go of her hair, returning his
attention to the girls.
That still wasn’t the worst. There’d be times when he was really bored and
feeling limitlessly cruel. He’d call in the King’s guard, or whatever knights
there were, or if all else failed, he’d drag in people off the street. He’d
push her into the middle of the room and declare her entertainment.
He’d have them rip off her dress, always boasting that he would buy her
another. He’d say they could do whatever they wanted to her as long as she was
still innocent at the end of it. They’d pass her round, almost throwing her
from one man to the next, laughing when she’d lose her footing and fall. Their
hands would slip under her torn dress, pawing at her newly formed breasts and
pushing their hands against her cunt, always against, never inside and then
pressing against her in return.
Eventually Joffrey would grow jealous of their fun and order them all out,
making her kneel at his feet beg before they left.
“You’ve behaved like a common whore tonight, Sansa. Is that any way to treat
your betrothed?” He’d ask and her mind would fill with scorn, biting back is
this any way to treat your betrothed?
“No, your grace.” She said aloud.
“Tell me you’re sorry.” He commanded, glancing up at the knights who had all
fallen silent, not sure if this was still a game and whether they were meant to
laugh or not.
“I’m sorry.” She said, her voice laced with anger and sarcasm.
“That’s not sorry enough.” He kicked the side of her thigh, the smile on his
face meant to look playful but the blow landed hard and fresh tears welled in
her eyes, making it easier for her to sound sorry.
“I’m so sorry, King Joffrey, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to act like a
whore. I love only you.” Her tears made her sound hysterical and she was glad,
she’d rather the words sounded mad than having to make them sound honest.
“Very well, you are forgiven, my love.” He said, with a laugh. He brought his
hand up to her cheek, making her flinch but he was only making a show of
catching her tears.
She wished, like she did every night like this, that she’d moved quicker when
she’d thought to push him to his death.
End Notes
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