The King's Bastards

BY : Thecoolkid
Category: 1 through F > 1-800-MISSING
Dragon prints: 1573
Disclaimer: I do not own the Game of Thrones TV series or the characters from it or any accompanying media. I do not make any money from this story.

A/U- This will not follow the show's timeline completely. In this story, Margaery and Joffrey have already been married, and Joffrey is never poisoned. Sansa's marriage to Tyrion has not yet occurred. The Red Wedding has not occurred as of yet.

The king was getting bored.

Joffrey, of Houses Lannister and Baratheon, sat upon the iron throne, absentmindedly toying with the hilt of one of the melted blades that made up the chair. The moon had risen in the sky, and the remainder of the Royal Family had all retired to their chambers for the evening. He alone sat within the Throne Room, unable to sleep.

Robb Stark's treacherous revolt was on the verge of defeat. Vary's spies informed him that the Targaryen bitch was no threat to him, and that old idiot Balon Greyjoy was no cause for concern. His uncle Stannis had been utterly humiliated at the Blackwater- if he could manage to muster enough forces for another invasion, it wouldn't be for several years to come. So why couldn't the king sleep?

Perhaps one of his favorite pastimes would suffice to put his mind at ease. He rose from his seat, and signaled for the Hound to follow him, as he exited the throne room and started the walk to Sansa's quarters.

He glanced over his shoulder at Sandor. "You've taken a liking to Sansa, haven't you?"

The dog's cheeks reddened slightly, and he cast his gaze to the floor. The king smirked, and continued to walk down the hallway. "Maybe I'll let you have a go at her once I'm done."

Ordering Clegane to remain outside the door, Joffrey entered the young Stark girl's bedroom. She was seated at a table, stitching some pillow. She jolted slightly when she heard Joffrey open the door, and her eyes flickered with a second of fear. She stood, and curtsied. "Your Grace, to what do I owe the honor?"

The young man walked over to the red-haired girl. "It has occurred to me that I never paid off a promise that I made to you a few years ago. As a king, what does it say about my character if I do not fulfill my promises?"

Sansa looked at him, questioningly. "Your Grace?"

Joffrey pulled her close. He could feel her heart pounding through her chest as he looked into her eyes. "Don't you remember? I swore that some day, you'd bear my children. I've come to fulfill that oath."

His lips touched hers, and the kiss lasted a few seconds. Sansa pushed herself away slightly. "Your Grace, please. I'm to be wed to your uncle, and you're married to Margaery."

Joffrey smirked, as he grasped her shapely rear, causing her to gasp. "My uncle will be fucking you more than enough for it to appear as his own. And besides, I'm the king. The king takes what he likes, from who he likes. Now kneel."

Sansa looked for a second as if she wanted to protest, but then realized that it would do her no good. If she could keep him happy, then that would be better than angering him. She sank to her knees, as Joffrey unlaced his breeches and let them fall to the floor. His manhood sprung forth, long and hard. Sansa viewed it with wide eyes, before tentatively reaching up a hand to it.

Joffrey moaned as the Stark girl grasped his cock. Interlacing his fingers into her beautiful red hair, he pulled her head closer to his pelvis. Sansa opened her mouth, and his length slipped into her warm and wet mouth. Her tongue danced around his tip, and he thrust deeper into her throat. Sansa took it all, closing her eyes as the king used her mouth for his pleasure.

After a few minutes, Joffrey withdrew himself. Sansa looked up at him, wide-eyed, before rising on his command. Joffrey grabbed her hips, and bent her over the table that she'd been sitting at previously. Sansa complied; as much as she despised Joffrey, she was wetter than she had ever been before. She needed relief.

He lifted her skirts above her waist, and pushed aside her smallclothes, before sinking himself into her maidenhood. Sansa's eyes widened as she felt herself become full, and a moan escaped her lips. This was not missed by Joffrey, who smirked, and picked up a small carving knife that had been on the table. He cut the strings holding the gown off of her, and then ripped it the rest of the way, throwing it on the floor.

Sansa Stark, nude, bent over with his cock in her cunt. What more could he ask for, he wondered to himself, as he placed one hand on her head, and the other on her ass. He began to move himself in and out, thrusting with all of his might into the girl. Delicate moans escaped her lips, as her body tensed up and her cunt began to twitch. With a mighty grunt, Joffrey felt her cunt contract, milking his cock as she came, and he could hold out no longer.

He came, thrusting as deep as he could. His cum shot into the Stark's fertile young womb, and Joffrey could hear her soft breathing as she too felt the cum spreading through her. She would be with child soon, that was for sure.

Joffrey withdrew himself, and slapped Sansa's ass. "That won't be the last bastard that you sire from me. Whenever your uncle is too drunk to fuck you properly, just send for me. I'll be more than happy to oblige!" He said with a laugh, as he pulled his breeches up and tied them. Sansa could give no response; she could barely move at all.

Joffrey smirked at her, and opened the door. The Hound was still standing there, his face red. He had no doubt heard everything that had transpired in the room, and when he turned to face his king, his eyes couldn't help but dart to the slim glance he had at Sansa. Joffrey signaled him to follow. He had a feeling that any issues he'd been having getting to sleep wouldn't be plaguing him any longer.



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