strengthanddevotion:

“Oh,” Sansa gasps, caught off guard by the young man in the room. She’d heard Robert had kept the last Targaryen son as a ward but she’d never seen him and had assumed at best he’d be confined to a tower like in a fairy tale. There’s hardly a moment’s hesitation before she curtsies politely in return. Her verbal response takes a bit longer though, she’s not sure how to address the young ward. After a minute of consideration she says; “Thank you Lord Viserys.” It may not be correct but it was always better to be overly cautious. 

“Have you seen Prince Joffery?” She asks, she’d been looking for him, hoping he’d accompany her on a walk around the keep, but she had yet to find him. Arya was off being a heathen somewhere and her father had already been drug into matters concerning the small council.

She was a proper lady, this Sansa of House Stark. The mention of his name with the tittle of Lord made his blood boil. He was a prince and named King before he was snatched away from his mother and made a prisoner he was not a simple Lord. “You’re quite welcome.” But what use was his tittle as Prince or King when the Baratheon usurper claimed the throne.

“Prince Joffery” Viserys echoed, the faint smile fell from his face. Of course she’d be looking for her beloved prince. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen him as of late. Is there something I might be able to help you with?” He stretched his legs, going to meet the young woman half way across the room. “It would be quite pleasant to have your company.”