Chapter Text
Winterfell manor bustled with life, planning for a significant announcement and celebration this evening. The downstairs servants were ordered to take extra care of everything . That had the Duke of Winterfell drinking alcohol, unusually, at every opportunity he saw. Lord Ned Stark appeared to be nervous, although he managed to be composed thanks to his southern wife, Lady Catelyn. Their eldest child, Lord Robb Stark, was the ever-confident beside his wife, Lady Jeyne.
Arya was sniffling at every occasion, hearing her sister gushing about the handsome prince Joffrey. The youngsters, Bran and Rickon, were lost in the day with no idea what to do.
Sansa was preparing for her engagement announcement when a sudden knock on the door abruptly halted the grooming of her hair. A maid adorned in a black dress and white cap entered the chamber to give her a rusty-looking message sealed with red wax with a sigil of a mockingbird. The name of Baron Baelish was underneath it. He was an old friend of her mother's family, and he visited them occasionally. What could that be? Sana thought. She was very intrigued to open it, but she had a very demanding schedule today. Finally, her curiosity won, and she opened the seal.
Dear Lady Sansa,
After deep thought, I decided to write to you about a very troubling issue. I know that you have a great love for Prince Joffrey, and I couldn’t blame you. After all, one day, he will inherit our kingdom, and the position of the queen can be very alluring.
It has come to my substantial fortune that the prince has a particular taste in ‘pleasure.’ A kind which could be distasteful in the eye of such a young lady like yourself. I can't tell you exactly what he does, but I can tell you where he probably is while reading my letter.
Please let it not be, what I have confided to you in, an open secret. I count you as a daughter of mine, but some would not appreciate exposing a royal.
Sansa observed the mentioned address to memorize it, then tucked it away in one of her drawers. A slight redness bloated her pale face, and she felt a sudden heat in the room. How should Sansa react? Could she believe Lord Baelish? And what was the place he mentioned? No, no, no. Her sweet fiance could do nothing wrong. The prince was an angel in her mind; he was the knight of her dreams. The sounds of her mother and Arya woke her from pondering. She would take her opportunity before lunch to visit that alleged place. The servants adored her, and they would never tell her parents of her whereabouts, but of course, she would take Meara as her chaperone.
The driver seemed concerned when they arrived at the address. It was not a place for a lady like her. “My lady, are you certain of the address? I don't think it's the right one.”
“Yes, Kregan. Wait here for us.” Sansa was anxious to know more about Joffrey's pursuit, and she didn't wait for the chauffeur to finish his reply.
When she entered the establishment, she saw a plump lady sitting behind a disk wearing a flagrant gown. It nearly spilled her bosoms. Sansa’s stomach rolled, and she had a terrible feeling. “Well, well, well. It's not a daily occurrence to have a fine madam like yours here.” The woman observed her head to toe and continued, “But I think we have what you want.”
“Please, I'm looking for Prince Joffrey here. Can you tell me where I can find him?”
The old courtesan almost swallowed her tongue. Nobody should know of his visits here. He paid them a handsome amount of money to keep everything discreet.
“Madame, I have no idea what you're speaking about. Royals don't frequent this place.” Sansa heard sounds of barking and yelling from somewhere upstairs and a familiar voice. She ignored the lady and took the stairs to find the source of all this. Her heart was pounding hard between her ribs. She opened a door and saw Joffrey in an immoral situation, beating a whore while fucking her.
“Do you want my money, huh? Do you want it? Crawl and suck my cock,” he shouted to the whore. Abusing her and treating her like a slave. He gave no care for the woman, throwing the dimes at her while he stepped at her hands and crushed them. Tears were a prominent sight on her face, but she couldn’t form a single word fearing his wrath.
Sansa’s hand covered her mouth in disbelief, disgusted at what she was glimpsing, and the world shattered around her. She wept and couldn't stomach the idea of marrying him anymore. It would cause a scandal to break off the marriage before they were even engaged, but she didn't care because the pain was tremendous. It wasn’t just whoring before his engagement party or his unfaithfulness from the start. It was also how he behaved.
The Royal entourage traveled from King's Landing to the North to propose a marriage between the crown prince and the daughter of the Duke of Winterfell. Although the announcement was not official yet, there was no doubt about it between the aristocrats. The Stark name was old and good. An alliance would strengthen the relationship between them and the royal family. Sansa left when Joffrey turned his head and tried to hide his erection, fumbling with his trouser buttons. He tried to follow, but he was late.
Kingsworth was the home of the royal family in the North. It was built centuries ago when the Targayens were still ruling the land. After the rebellion, King Robert and Queen Cersei used it to host nobles and entertainers whenever they visited that part of the kingdom. This morning was an absolute disaster for them, and Robert contemplated if he should return to the capital and let his wife deal with all the miss. Poor Tommen and Myrcella had to live through this.
“The filthy Starks! They never deserved my boy!” The glass of wine dropped from Ceresi’s hand once she heard about the broken engagement. Her foamy green eyes gleamed with malice.
“We should sue them, my king.” Her nostrils flared from the anger, and her pupils constricted.
“Sue them? Why? Your stupid son got caught. That was his mistake. ” King Robert waved his hand dismissively, uncaring of any consequences. He was the king, and Ned Stark was his friend. He never cared for Joffrey and preferred his bastards over him. As a child, the golden-haired boy used to fuss every time his father held him.
“Strip them from their titles, at least. They humiliated us,” Cersei seethed.
“No, are you mad? Stripping the Starks from their titles or their lands means a war. Didn't you learn anything from your precious father?” She placed her hands on her hips and roamed in their drawing room, rambling. If bloody Robert wouldn't do anything, she had to talk to her father.