A Tale of Stolen Blades and Stolen Hearts

Chapter 8: War Of The Five Kings, Part 1

Things have finally devolved, the Death of Ned Stark, the Capture of Jamie Lannister. All have lead to this moment. Stannis and Renly have made their claim, Joffrey and Robb now begin their war, and a dark house across the sea, the Greyjoys have made its mark as well.

At the Throne Room on the Red Keep, Joffrey is listening to a bards song, who sits sadly in front of him and the court. Obviously terrified. (Y/n) stood to the side and caught Sansa by the eye, she looks, dead on the inside, but who can blame her? Watching her Father be beheaded was traumatic. She looks as if she's not even here mentally. The Bard continues to sing, since his life literally depends upon it.

"The boar's great tusks, they boded ill For good King Robert's health And the beast was every bit as fat As Robert was himself But our brave king cried, "Do your worst! l'll have your ugly head! You're nowhere near as murd'rous as the lion in my bed" King Robert lost his battle and He failed his final test, The lion ripped his balls off, And the boar did all the rest..." He ended his twisted tale in silence, only the unnerving claps of Joffrey upon the throne.

"Very amusing. lsn't it a funny song? Thank you for your rendition. l imagine it was even better received at that tavern."

"l'm so sorry, Your Grace. l'll never sing it again, l swear." The Bard pleaded for Mercy, but Joffrey ignored the apology.

"Tell me, which do you favor —your fingers or your tongue?" Joffrey asked a bewildering question, the bard didn't know how to respond.

"Y-Your Grace?" He replied"Fingers or your tongue? lf you got to keep one, which would it be? Or l could just cut your throat." Joffrey had an uncomfortable grin on his face, the Bard had to think and responded in a stutter.

"E-Every man needs hands, Your Grace."

"Good. Tongue it is." Joffrey gave the order and (Y/n) watched from the side as the guards grabbed the man, and began to place a dagger in the flame sconce. Joffrey stood up from his throne.

"l'm done for the day. l'll leave the rest of the matters to you, Mother." Joffrey smiled as the hound and Meryn Traunt, They approach Sansa and (Y/n.) who side steps for his cousin.

"You look quite nice." Joffrey says as the bards screams echo though the hall, Sansa is still in a shattered state.

"Thank you, my lord."

"It's your Grace. l'm King now. Walk with me. l want to show you something." Joffrey says, and they follow, (Y/n) next to Sansa as they talk.

"And as soon as you've had your blood, l'll put a son in you. Mother says that shouldn't be long, and my cousin shall be your sword for now, until we Wed, or perhaps he can be your maiden? The name suits him." Joffrey gave a shit eating grin to (Y/n), who forced a smile. "The pikes have impaled heads on them." Before sands could accidentally face upon the corpses she looked away. Joffrey found some sick enjoyment out of this, he giddily points.

"This one's your father. This one here. Look at it and see what happens to traitors!" He growled, sansa, holding back tears looks at her king.

"You promised to be merciful."

"l was. l gave him a clean death. Look at him."

"Please let me go home. l won't do any treason, l swear–"

"Mother says l'm still to marry you. So you'll stay here, and obey. Look at him!" Joffrey ordered, and Sansa slowly looked up to the head of her father, stabbed upon a spike for many to see. The pain Sansa felt slowly began to numb, and turn into fuel, fuel for a blind rage

"How long do l have to look?" He said though her teeth.

"As long as it pleases me. Do you want to see the rest?" Jofftey asked, Sansa kept her eyes glued upon her father's head.