minetotorment:

“No?” he repeated back with a nasty grin on his face. “What a shame! Here, why don’t we start tonight!” Joffrey led her out into the training yard instead, where his rabbits were kept for target practice. By the torchlight, the field was lit up, and it made the golden crossbow glimmer dangerously as he hefted it right into her arms. “You’re going to kill something, and you’re not going to bed until you do.”

Opening the rabbit hutch, he let one hop free, and it sleepily stood still, twitching its ears as it looked around. Joffrey, however, moved to stand behind Sansa, guiding her hands as she lifted the bow. He was pressed so close to her, his arms around her and his mouth at her ear as he breathed poisonous words for her and her alone. Helping her aim, he then moved her finger towards the trigger.

“If you don’t kill it, if you miss on purpose, I’ll put a bolt in you instead.”

:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::

                The Gods help her! She cannot stop the fear clouding her eyes, not for her– not quite– but of what he is making her do. He is too close, far too close and his breath is hot on her neck. She saved kittens and send a rabbit to its death. By crossbow, of all things.

               If she were competent, she could attempt a clean death, an accurate shot but her hand trembles and her heart can’t keep a rhythm and the bow is weighed down by every sin she has ever committed, from the small lies to the well-intentioned murderous truth. 

              As if desperate, so desperate, Sansa thinks if only she can twist out of his grip to shoot him instead. She will die, she is sure of it– but so will he and the world might balance itself out all over again. Reckless Sansa would have done it, but she has a better control of her emotions now and is able to will down her bloodlust.

             Instead, she lets the tremors show in her hand and voice. Seconds tick by.

             "Your Grace, I am not– I am not a good shot, what if i miss–“