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The carriage clattered and shook as it rattled forward down the kings road, the prince felt more nauseous than normal, the further from kings landing and civilization the worse things seem to be, the quality in roads, the manners of the northerners and even the quality of there women was much to his disliking. With an outstretched hand he moved the carriage windows silken veil, like everything here to him it was dreary and bleak, a cold malaise ran up his spine for the contempt he could muster at a series of serfs that stood in a nearby field, each one was caked in mud standing slack jawed staring at the royal procession, there farm tools in hand. If he had his way he'd have them beaten for starring at him as such.
"Mother, I'm growing restless of this vile place, its vile people!" The prince stood for effect to his ramblings but quickly fell, loosing his balance from the uneven road, he began glowing a bright shade of red, with frustration he kicked the carriage door with a slight but quiet thud, holding his breath from the pain that throbbed from his heel.
"Calm yourself Joff, were almost there! The king demanded we come and that's that, but between you and me I hate this disgusting place more so, its memories sting deeply." Cersei placed her hand motherly upon his cheek, she had long learnt it was quicker to calm him before he started one of his now infamous throughout the city tantrums. Quickly he slumped into his seat, content perhaps even happy. Cersei's thoughts turned to the journey itself, it was no small secret after the previous hand of the King Jon Arryn of the Vale had died that when King Robert had declared a royal march to Winterfell and the north, that his great friend and ally Eddard Stark Warden of the North was to be the chosen successor, this was assumed by most in the imperial court though none dare speak it in front of the King. Her husband Robert Baratheon wasn't known to be a subtle man but she had suspicions that there was more to this journey, especially after Robert insisted on bringing all there children northwards.
"Winterfell ahoy!" A footman bellowed followed by a trilling of the kings royal horns, Cersei cringed, no doubt the King had ordered them to sound there horns for there arrival, disgusted She rolled her eyes, her fat oaf of her husband was probably at the front of the group, still playing at a knight, his poor struggling horse neighing and whining under duress she imagined smiling to herself. The comical thought of her husband flattening his horse took over in her imagination, quickly followed by a sick smile as she daydreamed of him breaking his neck from the fall and herself ruling in his stead, an iron queen not a flabby drunkard.
The large stone walls eclipsed over the carriage as they entered past the gatehouse and into the courtyard, the hustle and bustle of the household guard ready and prepared to accept the royal invite. The coach halted, horses neighing and huffing after such a long journey. Cersei pulled her winter fur cloak further over herself outstretching herself to gently shake and wake up her two sleeping younger children, Myrcella and Tommen. Gingerly they stretched themselves out in the carriage, yawning and rubbing there eyes innocently smiling to there mother.
"Are we there mother? Is this Winterfell?!" Tommen enthusiastically beamed as he peaked out the carriage windows into the packed courtyard, the small child's blonde hair a tangled mess as Cersei began to comb through his locks to make him more presentable. Myrcella was quiet, a bag of nerves, endlessly straightening her dress and making sure she looked presentable and ready, with one hand Cersei took her chin with thumb and forefinger staring deeply into her eyes smiling to put her at ease. The act itself worked, she quickly calmed him down from nearly becoming hysterical. Cersei saw herself in her daughter, still innocent and naive to a lot of the world, but not as naive to its intricacies as Tommen is. She was her age when she was shipped of to be married, the anger still boiling in her at her father.
"Let us meet our hosts children, never forget that we are there betters." taking her two youngest children in hand, she prepared to disembark from the transport, in the corner of her eye she could see Joffrey her eldest son moping, she turned stern faced to him frowning.
"Mother I'm feeling ill, I'll meet them all later..." He looked red faced and angry, she could tell he was close to a tantrum and she couldn't have him showing them up this far from Kings Landing, with a harsh, stern stare promising to continue this conversation later she stepped of the carriage where the king was embracing his old friend Eddard Stark in an unkingly hug, the bear of a man was laughing his chins no doubt quivering if they weren't concealed under a great big bushy beard. He was certainly louder than she had heard him in quite some time, walking at a regal pace, she approached house Stark with her two youngest children, beaming.
From the carriage, Joffrey stayed concealed, already he disliked these Stark's and there cold wintry north. Even if house Stark was a loyal household and Eddard Stark warden of the north, they were not any house he cared for, his disdain peaking as he stared at the quality of the guards loyal to the Stark's, gruff, ugly and unkempt but they seemed sturdy enough.
"Show us ya muscles! We'll make a soldier out of you!" He heard his father the king bellow, he tried to view who he was speaking to from the Stark house hold but the angle wasn't acquiescent to his liking, he was laughing now with one of the Stark's. Within minutes the pleasantries were over and the king was heading in the direction of the crypts with Lord Eddard. Her mother often spoke of his father's first love, mostly when she had been drinking her Arbor red wine and how she despised her even though she was dead, Lord Eddard's sister was a point of none discussion in the royal household by order of the King, therefore to Joffrey it was a point of curiosity. With the king gone, everyone went there separate directions as the royal host began unpacking.

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It had been a few hours since they had arrived and yet Joffrey was restless, he had ordered his loyal bodyguard Sandor Clegane more commonly known these days as the hound to watch his rooms door, the interior of the room was under lavished for his liking and already a sauce of frustration as a draught of cold air was making it into the room through the old stone, whistling and moaning causing his temper to flare again. Stomping over to the door he pulled the large wooden door open slowly as it creaked ominously.
"I'm heading out, you are to follow me at all times and keep me safe from these... Savages" Joffrey screeched pompously, wiping some dust that had fallen onto his golden silk tunic.
"As you command your grace" the giant of a man stood aside, his black armour rattling, as a slight smile crept onto his face, made all the more sinister by the intensely scarred face, those in Kings Landing knew it was wise not to speak of the burn scars that adorned his face, the Hound had killed men who had spoken of it before.
Everywhere he passed, servants, maids, guards bowed and courteously spoke to him. With a brisk rudeness the prince ignored them all, storming where he saw fit into the kitchens where a grand feast was being prepared, grand enough for anywhere except the kings landing royal courts where it seemed antiquated and poor by his usual standards, with a deep intake of breath he carried on till he could see daylight streaming through an open door.
Once outside the chilly air swept around him, he moved to rub his limbs but something caught his attention, he could hear combat of some variety, a clash of swords and the occasional grunt. Excitement and curiosity got the better of him as he entered a courtyard he hadn't seen yet, it was dirty and bare mostly. On one side there were archery targets pin cushioned by arrows and a rack of weapons of various types and sizes, some were missing.
In the centre two figures fought, one fought in boiled leathers, he darted quickly using a shield and blunted long sword to deliver quick and deft blows. The other instantly caught Joffrey's attention. They were equipped with a dull coloured breast plate with chain underneath. The knights identity was concealed behind a closed helmet much to Joffreys annoyance as the curiosity got the better of him. A thick leather skirt came up to there mid thighs, curiously even with the bitter winds of the north there arms and legs were bare. Thick corded muscles pushed and squeezed at each other for space. The huge figure semmed to be at least 7 to possibly even 8 feet tall, making even Sandor Clegane's brother the 'mountain that walks' look small, there arms and legs powerfully wide, chest thick and powerful. They exerted physical force and strength even when they didn't move. Even still they moved in there armour with a sense of grace. In one hand they carried a large two handed claymore as a normal man would carry a sword, in the other a gigantic tower shield, which they span a twisted to block the faster opponents blows quicker than anyone ought to with such a shield. With a feint the smaller man darted inside the huge knights guard but the blow never connected as the larger used there body weight from there hips to push them back with the force that seemed akin to a punch. With a horizontal slice of there claymore the smaller of the two ducked, though even blunted the force of which Joffrey imagined could decapitate a man or at the very least break bone.
"Great fight Ser's!" He yelled, the quicker of the two distracted momentarily stared in his direction as the monstrous knight slammed them to the ground with there shield, claymore pinned to there neck as he stared up into the closed visor of the giant, deflated and beaten.
"I yield!" The smaller man, resigned himself to say, the larger man removed the blade from his neck with a swiftness, quickly impaling the large sword 3 ft into the hard frozen soil with little to no resistance, his large hand leveled to pick up his comrade, with a swift tug, the smaller warrior was pulled to there feet in seconds much to Joffrey's amusement to which he swore he saw him leave the ground if only momentarily. The smaller man grumbled before removing his helmet, black locks falling from the helmet, tangled with sweat and exertion, he had his father Eddard Stark's bearing.
"Who are you brave sir knight?" Joffrey spoke, more curious in the giant but pleasantry and protocol had to be obeyed to the Stark's, unless until he became king.
"Robb Stark your grace, I'am Lord Eddard's oldest son as we didn't get the pleasure to meet earlier." Robb raised one hand to remove the sweat from his brow, wiping it on his armour in an uncourteous manner.
"You fought well but your master of arms it seems is a stout and seasoned fighter, he has trained you well!" Joffrey slyly smiled, Robb unsure if he was mocking or praising him.
"Master of arms? You are confused ser, this is not our master of arms Ser Rodrik Cassel. This is my sister, lady Sansa!" The words fell onto Joffrey like a tonne of bricks, this knight was Robb's younger sister?! Eddard Stark's oldest daughter! With a deft tug of there closed knights helmet followed by pulling there chain mail coif away from there head. long ginger locks flowed downwards in the wind like water, cloyed together in places by sweat, there pale face angelic in contrast to there titanic frame and armour, surely this couldn't be possible.
"Pleased to meet you, your grace!" The large armour groaned and warped as she curtseyed in the manner befitting a lady of her standing, as she bent down, he could see her thick neck muscles and traps that crept up her shoulders beyond anything he'd ever bare witnessed before, she was.. Blushing in his presence, almost unbelievable that such a gigantic woman should be shy of all things.
"Er... quite, Are you not cold lady Sansa with your limbs so bare?" Joffrey rubbed his hands together for effect, the northern chill creeping into his very bones.
"No my prince, the northern weather I find most aggreable!" she beamed with a huge toothy grin, placing her hand on her armoured hip with a slight laugh.
"Erm, yes carry on Ser! ... Lady!" Flustered he turned to leave, blood rushing to his face as he went a brighter shade of red. Cringing over how embarrassing the whole situation was, he felt something beyond his usual routine of anger and spite, his bodyguard Sandor was smirking too himself over the whole exchange.
"Would of won if I didn't get distracted!" Robb stood lordly, sheathing his sword on the rack, Sansa approached from behind him, her gigantic armoured form standing over him closely.
"What ever you say brother!" with a deft tug, she grabbed him tightly around the waist with one titanic arm, the other ruffled his hair, laughing and giggling to herself as he struggled.
"Your dismissed hound, go to your Kennel and await my orders... Be gone you cur!" Joffrey spat, still storming of not, not stopping his quick pace to even look or listen for the hounds reply, he had bigger fish to fry as he passed into the main keep and into the turret spiral staircase to his chamber, when he was sure no one was looking half way up the staircase he listened for foot steps or anyone who could be watching. He stopped himself, he had never been so turned on by such display of power! He was envious mostly but that woman was beyond his wildest fantasy, almost akin to discovering something he had wanted but never thought to ever think of before.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the staircase from above, quickly the prince composed himself, making sure his erection wasn't visible, a large shadow cast down the side of the staircase, the clanging of feet on stone was immense, as the silhouette approached into view. The younger Stark sister, this one wasn't as classically beautiful as her older sister her face more comely. This one wore more modest though thick typical northern clothing, her height equal to Joffrey, no more than 5'8 but she was imposing, her face scowled at him, glaring into his very soul, Joff wished he hadn't dismissed the hound to protect him. Her body almost as wide as she was tall, thick powerful muscles contracted as she stepped by him sideways to get past, stopping half way her thick body pining him menacingly to the wall without even trying by shear lack of space and how vast she was.
"I was watching my sister fight from the gantry, I saw you did too... She's a sensitive soul and stupid at times but she's still my sister, don't you dare treat her like I've heard rumours of from down south..." She moved her face closer for emphasis, her brown messy hair practically dangled in his face, her's a mask of anger.
"I-I-I..." Joffrey mumbled.
"Do you understand!?" Arya yelled, slamming her thick and large fist into the stone wall to the side of his head, the rock splintering ever so slightly, a small puff of dust flowing out into the air that he spluttered on as she rolled her eyes at his weakness, he nodded enthusiastically as if his life depended on it.
"Good!" She smiled innocently, tilting her head to one side before recoiling her wide body from his, she began skipping down the stairs humming a tune to herself each step, clattering down the tower.
Composing himself yet again he felt nothing but anger and hatred for that 'horsed faced girl' ignorant swine! I'm the prince, No one tells me what to do! Clenching his fists in rage he didn't dare speak his thoughts out loud in case Arya was still listening. Instead a thin smile appeared on his worm like lips, carefully he climbed to the top of the staircase, walking where he pleased he soon found Aryas room, turning the large iron door handle he pushed the large oaken door inwards.
The room was large and vaulted, stone bricks like everywhere else in the castle but this one was different, it was massive, possibly even bigger than the kings room in the eastern section of the castle, everything was beyond normal. The bed was gigantic, with a massive and possible ancient dire wolves pelt covering the bed, reinforced chairs braced with iron, the centre piece was a bodice and dress that sat on a clothes horse, it was truly massive and it seemed to imitate the style of down south but had northern style to it, Aryas dress...
We a grin he looked over the stitching, long ago he had learnt the appropriate places to pull on the seems, to remove and cut so it fall to pieces quickly and at once but not till much later after much movement. He had learnt this trick after years of pulling it on his younger sister Myrcella and once on his mother, though he came to regret it when she had him beaten for it, a tinge of apprehension followed of the idea of Arya literally pummeling his face into the dirt. Her mighty biceps flaring as she roared in triumphant, his arousal quickly returned as he finished pulling the last seam, admiring his handy work with bravado.With graceless movement he stepped towards the entrance, there stood a small meek girl, a bucket and brush in hand to no doubt clean the floors or what ever peasents did, he cared not.
"Beg your forgiveness my lord" she curtseyed and turned to leave, he moved lightning fast grabbing her by the back of the hair, pulling hard on her light wispy brown hair, his other hand reached for the throat, squeezing for effect.
"I'm the prince of the seven kingdoms and you will address me as such." he snarled into her face.
"Yes... My prince" she choked between tears, with a sudden intensity he stopped, shaking the stench of a commoner from his grasp on the thick pelt on the bed.
"Tell no one I was here, tell anyone and I'll have you beaten by my hound!" The left side of his mouth twitching with animosity for her social standing.
"You do know who the hound is?!" His gaze pierced her, face growing red in impatience. Still recovering she nodded wiping the tears forming away from her face.
"Good, never forget who your betters are whelp!" Walking by the red eyed girl with an air of authority that only years of living under the tutelage of his cruel mother had taught him.

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The feast had started spectacularly, the stores of winterfell were vast and well stocked for the incoming long winter of which it was expected to be announced by the wise maester's of old town any month from now. The Stark's were an old and proud family and prudent in there rationing, but with the kings entourage here they put the stores to the test. King Robert Baratheon was once known for his successful rebellion against the cruel Targaryen's, a might warrior! But in victory he was now known more for his large appetites, wine, food and woman were more the fables the common folk spoke of now.
The King sat away from Queen Cersei who sat watching the whole affair in disdain, her two youngest children laughed among themselves while Joffrey sat eyes full of hate for the event. She had become use to his shameless displays. King Robert sat eating with a pewter pitcher of wine in one hand, a whore sat on his lap as they both laughed as he told her the story of how he fought Rhaegar Targaryen on the trident, embellishing details as he saw fit. Eddard Stark lord of Winterfell sat sternly watching everyone as the servants ran around filling flagons and putting various northern delicacy's for there guests, everything was going smoothly as could be expected.
The large entrance hall, framed by pillars stood a large double oaken door, with a creaking push the doors swung open, Stark guards stood either side, halberds in hand as the Stark ladies entered the hall. Nobles of various houses and daughters of various retainers in the household passed through, there dresses elegant but practical, Cersei sneered at there primitive dresses compared to the latest fashions of the south. However what caught her eye however was the two Stark girls.
With a raised eyebrow she saw the younger of the two Arya approach, she was abnormally large for her age, almost comical as her wide muscular frame was compacted into a dress, she fidgeted and tugged at it, her face that of disgust, seemingly in herself, Joffrey giggled to himself much to Cersei's shock, he never enjoyed these formal events, what had gotten into him?
Behind her the Lannister and Baratheon contingent fell to silence as the older of Eddard Starks daughters Sansa Stark stepped under the door, having to stoop to get through the gap much to her dismay. Her auburn red locks were done in a semi imitation of the south style which was all the rage in the capital. She nervously smiled to defuse the situation. To the northern lords this was business as usual, the music still Blared from the northern musicians, pipes and flutes, drums echoed out through the hall as a lute player strummed to a merry jaunt.
Her dress was form fitted over her mighty muscular body, thick neck muscles the likes most hadn't seen except on the 'mountain' but this girl made him look like a boy. Her arms mighty beyond what could be fought possible, her breasts none existent, pushed outwards in mockery of the female form into thick muscular pectoral muscle. Her waist was wider, leading to a strong wide pair of hips which pulled the dress taut over the tops of her thighs.
"What is Ned Stark feeding them?" Cersei whispered, laughing to one of her cronies who returned the laugh in kind.
Joffrey's eyes almost bugged out of his head as he watched Sansa step, each one shaking a nearby table she passed slightly as her muscular hips and thighs powered towards a specially made chair next to her sister. With a hesitation she gingerly sat on the chair, it began creaking and protesting in response, she winced in embarrassment, whispering something to a servant, though he looked more a builder, perhaps it was for future modifications?
The food piled out in force, lamb and chicken with all kinds of available slices and figs and summer fruit brought from down south, Sansa took delicate bites trying to restrain herself, her stomach audibly rumbling in anger for her to unleash herself and gorge upon protein. Joffrey watched intently, something was off, Aryas dress hadn't broken at all, it stood intact much to his shock and disdain.
Sansa could take no more, in true northern fashion, she stood her large form casting from the torch light over the table, as her large, thick calloused hands reached over to pull a suckling pig over to where she sat, ripping chunks of flesh and consuming the meat in timely fashion, in minutes the pig was devoured! Patting her huge muscular gut with powerful biceps, the cobblestone abs apparent through the thinning fabric, punctuating her meal with a humongous belch that echoed through the feasting hall, it was only then she had realized how unladylike she had been turning a shade of red.
"Couldn't of said it better!" King Robert Baratheon laughed raising a goblet of wine spilling half down his tunic, standing to his feet in a drunken haze. Joffrey was smitten by this northern girl, so powerful it reached him in ways he couldn't understand, she defied all convention, it was then it hit him, the dress he had sabotaged wasn't Arya's... It was Sansa's.
"I was going to announce this later but now's as good as time as any, so fuck it!" The king laughed as all turned attention to him.
"Lord Eddard and I have decided to join our houses together, my Eldest Joffrey will Marry Sansa in union of our houses..." The king proclaimed, as the chanting and table clanging reached a peak crescendo. Joffrey just starred at Sansa as he stood as King Robert urged him to stand to accept congratulations, all the while his focus was on Sansa who stood now herself, the fabric finally giving way with a gigantic rip down the back of her dress, she turned to look exposing her impossibly wide muscular back to all in attendance, this further loosened the seams, tearing the remind of the dress to pieces, her dress falling into tatters around her.
"No, no this has to be a nightmare no!" She screamed as she desperately tried to hold the scraps to her body, parts of anatomy on display to all in attendance, thick hulking muscles corded over her body. Arya sat laughing at her display, pointing.
With one intense step she bounded down the feasting hall, stepping on a stool with her gigantic foot, the force of which turned it to kindling as her foot slammed it into the ground. two more stomps and she tripped into a guard knocking him flat on his back. Finally she reached the closed door she had entered, her thick hands and forearms struggled on the wood to open it, her sobs and tears and rage at there zenith as all stood in silence. With a sharp shoulder barged she slammed her weight into the door, ripping it of its hinges, pushing it forward as she ran down the corridor crying her way to her room, silence from the hall following her like an arrow in the dark.

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The hulking girl lay on her vast bed crying and sobbing to herself, why had fate been so cruel? Why had she had to have one of her growth spurts during the kings feast? In front of her now betrothed of all people! Her hands thick hands wiped away her tears long enough to reach over to a pile of her favourite food lemon cakes. Her father had no doubt ordered they be sent up. with fierce abandonment she ate each one whole chewing and swallowing quickly moving for another till they were all gone, wiping away the crumbs that lay on her thick pecs, onto the floor.
She wept some more at how pathetic she was being, as she sat to an upright position, the wooden, steel reinforced cot whining in kind to her movements. Pulling the wolf skin to her chest she took a deep smell of its musty scent, she was a Stark and this was a deep reminder that they were made of stronger stuff. Wiping away the tears she turned to the left over food that had been brought up by a servant, springing to her feet with a tremendous thud she raised both hands to the air interlocking her fingers and stretching all muscle groups at once. With stone shaking footsteps while still very much naked she pounded over to the table, full of all her favourites no doubt her father had sneaked out just for her.
Her petite features scrunched up, her attention turned to the stone floor, worn done more and more by her intense workouts her body craved, still to this day they couldn't explain her and her sisters sudden growth spurts, when her father had suggesting sword training she had turned down the idea but as it became more and more difficult to sew without destroying the cloth or practice more ladylike past times she took it up out of boredom, now it had become an obsession. she loved her growing body though as she was still a shy girl she didn't admit it to anyone. Her stomach growled in protest again, more and more her body wanted her to eat and with that the more and more she grew, no matter how much she tried to fight it.
With a thin smile she sat at her oaken stool as she began to take massive bites, rending gout's of meat that fell apart within her thick fingers, grease smearing up her hands and around her lips as she moaned in supplicance, her gigantic muscular back hunched over the trays of meat and food. This carried on till there was nothing left, her thick muscular gut pressing into the table, she could feel her muscles tingling and numb in places, it was almost euphoric, with a sound akin to a ship hitting a rock the reinforced stool gave away under her bulk shattering as her huge muscular glutes slammed into the stone floor shaking the room slightly, anywhere else Sansa would have felt ashamed instead she felt pride, with every day she was becoming more and more mighty, soon she would become one the greats of the world that she had heard about like Bran the builder or Nymeria the warrior Queen.
The door creaked open as Sansa sprang to her feet slamming the large table over with her engorged thighs, diving to hide behind the pelt. "Who's there? I'm trying to get changed!" Sansa croaked, trying to cover her humongous body from the intruder.
"Begging your pardon your Ladyship, its just Jacline your handmaiden" the meek, mousy girl spoke out in the dark room closing the door behind herself, Sansa had always trusted Jacline, she was dependable and loyal, she was also use to the girl helping her dress as it was becoming more and more difficult to dress herself these days, she had seen her growing muscular body a hundred or more times and as such, Sansa lowered her guard dropping the wolf pelt covering her modesty.
"Does your grace require more food? Or just a hand to get dressed?" The small girl intoned with a massive smile on her face.
"What's the point Jacline? My freakish body tore my clothes to shreds, I've already made a fool of myself in front of everyone, the king and queen, my father and mother! And dear sweet Joffrey...." She let out a dreamy sigh, her shoulders and muscular traps lowering only slightly.
"Your grace, may I speak bluntly?" Jaclline spoke, Sansa raised one eye brow nodding, rolling her wrist in a motion for her to continue.
"Prince Joffrey is... A brute! I caught him in here, he was looking over your dress, he hurt me Lady Sansa, threatened me if I told anyone!" The small girl was on the verge of crying as Sansa leaped to her feet naked as her warm body wrapped around her, comforting her, soothing her as she rubbed her head in a motherly fashion. Jacline had never lied from what Sansa could tell, she had been a loyal friend to for numerous years. Sansa kneeled down to the poor girl and with her giant finger as carefully as possible wiped away her tears, while making soothing noises to calm the girl down.
"Tell Ser Rodrik to get my armour, say its important and to tell no one else..." Sansa gritted her teeth as Jacline raced out of the chamber, she had never been more furious in her life.

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The stomping sound grew louder and louder, he had awoken in a cold sweat. Nightmares of all the victims he had tormented over the years. The shaking of the room grew louder even still. With a gigantic shudder the clattering stopped.
"Hound! HOUND! are you still outside there? see what that noise is and shut it u..." Joffreys words were cut short as the door to his chamber shattered inwards, iron reinforcements warped and ruined, the black metallic figure of the hound crashing through back first as he hit the slick surface skidding along the smooth stoned floor, blooded noise, unconscious.
"Please what ever you want its yours! my family is beyond rich take anything you want just don't finish me!" Joffrey pleaded, his sheets tucked under his chin with both hands clenched tightly still in bed, eyes streaming looking towards the door frozen on the spot.
"Anything?" A feminine voice replied, crouching to get through the narrow door frame, Sansa's shoulders scrapped the wooden entrance, dust and debris following her entrance, her dull yet practical armour clung a little tighter, her muscular flesh visible in places, helm less her hair cascaded downwards flowing freely, her face a masque of pure vengeance.
"I know it was you Joffrey, I know it was you that sabotaged my dress, tormented my hand maiden into silence, Winter has come for you Joffrey" she stepped forward, heavy laden footsteps that menaced him further, each even powerful from her weighted armour. She stepped forward like a wolf hunting its prey, each stride asserting her dominance over the minuscule prince.
"I-It wasn't me, I didn't I..." immediately he was cut short as she picked up the large dresser to her right throwing it against the fire place, the dresser crumbling into pieces, wood and clothes spraying over the floor.
With a quick stride she stood over his bed, her massive 8 and a half feet form stood over him, her neck muscles twitched in anger, he could see the veins exposed raw on her neck, he was gibbering now. Arching her muscular armoured plated greaved leg upwards she placed her foot to the side of his body on the bed, quickly shifting her body over with her other thick armoured thigh to his other side, bringing her full weight down, the bed frame crunching under her weight as it fell to the floor with a loud crash, Joffrey yelped pinned between her body as her thighs closed to hold him in place. With practiced familiarity she removed her thick armoured gauntlets, her giant hands moved to encompass his own, completely trapped by her body and strength, his arousal and fear at equal levels.
"I Forgive you but I know who you are now and we will be joined, your father the king has decreed it. One day I will be Queen, Winter is coming my Prince! never forget that, till then... BEHAVE!" she roared in his face, her strength and presence overwhelming him as he fainted into a heap on the bed. Queen Sansa, she liked the sound of it.

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Authors note:

So this is a quasi part two to the previous 'fire and blood' part from our 'song of fire and ice' series JD and I collaborated. Some slight revisions from the books / story for obvious reasons, but still set in the same universe. Chronologically wise, this story takes place way before the Daenerys chapter, consider it a prequel of sorts. The already planned next few parts all take place in the correct order so I guess you can consider the Daenerys chapter my Quentin Tarantino moment of showing the ending before the actual story. I hope you enjoy the hard work that Jderril put into this, it really shows and I'm very proud of what he's accomplished. I also hope you enjoy my silly little story as well enjoy

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Morphers note:

This was one of those morphs that pushed my skills to their limit and beyond. Trying to build an actual armor from scratch and making her absolute musculature work in unison with something like that. And let's face it. A real knights armor isn't the most sexy outfit, and trying to find a balance between hot musculature and a good armor was a challenge. Aafsa and I had a bit of a fight over this, but I am glad her persistence pushed through in realizing something I am very proud of. Both story and picture.

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For those who want to see Sansa bigger, here she is as a seperate morph: Sansa version 3 - DEF
Previous Part: War of the Five Queens: Fire and Blood

Description

The carriage clattered and shook as it rattled forward down the kings road, the prince felt more nauseous than normal, the further from kings landing and civilization the worse things seem to be, the quality in roads, the manners of the northerners and even the quality of there women was much to his disliking. With an outstretched hand he moved the carriage windows silken veil, like everything here to him it was dreary and bleak, a cold malaise ran up his spine for the contempt he could muster at a series of serfs that stood in a nearby field, each one was caked in mud standing slack jawed staring at the royal procession, there farm tools in hand. If he had his way he'd have them beaten for starring at him as such.
"Mother, I'm growing restless of this vile place, its vile people!" The prince stood for effect to his ramblings but quickly fell, loosing his balance from the uneven road, he began glowing a bright shade of red, with frustration he kicked the carriage door with a slight but quiet thud, holding his breath from the pain that throbbed from his heel.
"Calm yourself Joff, were almost there! The king demanded we come and that's that, but between you and me I hate this disgusting place more so, its memories sting deeply." Cersei placed her hand motherly upon his cheek, she had long learnt it was quicker to calm him before he started one of his now infamous throughout the city tantrums. Quickly he slumped into his seat, content perhaps even happy. Cersei's thoughts turned to the journey itself, it was no small secret after the previous hand of the King Jon Arryn of the Vale had died that when King Robert had declared a royal march to Winterfell and the north, that his great friend and ally Eddard Stark Warden of the North was to be the chosen successor, this was assumed by most in the imperial court though none dare speak it in front of the King. Her husband Robert Baratheon wasn't known to be a subtle man but she had suspicions that there was more to this journey, especially after Robert insisted on bringing all there children northwards.
"Winterfell ahoy!" A footman bellowed followed by a trilling of the kings royal horns, Cersei cringed, no doubt the King had ordered them to sound there horns for there arrival, disgusted She rolled her eyes, her fat oaf of her husband was probably at the front of the group, still playing at a knight, his poor struggling horse neighing and whining under duress she imagined smiling to herself. The comical thought of her husband flattening his horse took over in her imagination, quickly followed by a sick smile as she daydreamed of him breaking his neck from the fall and herself ruling in his stead, an iron queen not a flabby drunkard.
The large stone walls eclipsed over the carriage as they entered past the gatehouse and into the courtyard, the hustle and bustle of the household guard ready and prepared to accept the royal invite. The coach halted, horses neighing and huffing after such a long journey. Cersei pulled her winter fur cloak further over herself outstretching herself to gently shake and wake up her two sleeping younger children, Myrcella and Tommen. Gingerly they stretched themselves out in the carriage, yawning and rubbing there eyes innocently smiling to there mother.
"Are we there mother? Is this Winterfell?!" Tommen enthusiastically beamed as he peaked out the carriage windows into the packed courtyard, the small child's blonde hair a tangled mess as Cersei began to comb through his locks to make him more presentable. Myrcella was quiet, a bag of nerves, endlessly straightening her dress and making sure she looked presentable and ready, with one hand Cersei took her chin with thumb and forefinger staring deeply into her eyes smiling to put her at ease. The act itself worked, she quickly calmed him down from nearly becoming hysterical. Cersei saw herself in her daughter, still innocent and naive to a lot of the world, but not as naive to its intricacies as Tommen is. She was her age when she was shipped of to be married, the anger still boiling in her at her father.
"Let us meet our hosts children, never forget that we are there betters." taking her two youngest children in hand, she prepared to disembark from the transport, in the corner of her eye she could see Joffrey her eldest son moping, she turned stern faced to him frowning.
"Mother I'm feeling ill, I'll meet them all later..." He looked red faced and angry, she could tell he was close to a tantrum and she couldn't have him showing them up this far from Kings Landing, with a harsh, stern stare promising to continue this conversation later she stepped of the carriage where the king was embracing his old friend Eddard Stark in an unkingly hug, the bear of a man was laughing his chins no doubt quivering if they weren't concealed under a great big bushy beard. He was certainly louder than she had heard him in quite some time, walking at a regal pace, she approached house Stark with her two youngest children, beaming.
From the carriage, Joffrey stayed concealed, already he disliked these Stark's and there cold wintry north. Even if house Stark was a loyal household and Eddard Stark warden of the north, they were not any house he cared for, his disdain peaking as he stared at the quality of the guards loyal to the Stark's, gruff, ugly and unkempt but they seemed sturdy enough.
"Show us ya muscles! We'll make a soldier out of you!" He heard his father the king bellow, he tried to view who he was speaking to from the Stark house hold but the angle wasn't acquiescent to his liking, he was laughing now with one of the Stark's. Within minutes the pleasantries were over and the king was heading in the direction of the crypts with Lord Eddard. Her mother often spoke of his father's first love, mostly when she had been drinking her Arbor red wine and how she despised her even though she was dead, Lord Eddard's sister was a point of none discussion in the royal household by order of the King, therefore to Joffrey it was a point of curiosity. With the king gone, everyone went there separate directions as the royal host began unpacking.

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It had been a few hours since they had arrived and yet Joffrey was restless, he had ordered his loyal bodyguard Sandor Clegane more commonly known these days as the hound to watch his rooms door, the interior of the room was under lavished for his liking and already a sauce of frustration as a draught of cold air was making it into the room through the old stone, whistling and moaning causing his temper to flare again. Stomping over to the door he pulled the large wooden door open slowly as it creaked ominously.
"I'm heading out, you are to follow me at all times and keep me safe from these... Savages" Joffrey screeched pompously, wiping some dust that had fallen onto his golden silk tunic.
"As you command your grace" the giant of a man stood aside, his black armour rattling, as a slight smile crept onto his face, made all the more sinister by the intensely scarred face, those in Kings Landing knew it was wise not to speak of the burn scars that adorned his face, the Hound had killed men who had spoken of it before.
Everywhere he passed, servants, maids, guards bowed and courteously spoke to him. With a brisk rudeness the prince ignored them all, storming where he saw fit into the kitchens where a grand feast was being prepared, grand enough for anywhere except the kings landing royal courts where it seemed antiquated and poor by his usual standards, with a deep intake of breath he carried on till he could see daylight streaming through an open door.
Once outside the chilly air swept around him, he moved to rub his limbs but something caught his attention, he could hear combat of some variety, a clash of swords and the occasional grunt. Excitement and curiosity got the better of him as he entered a courtyard he hadn't seen yet, it was dirty and bare mostly. On one side there were archery targets pin cushioned by arrows and a rack of weapons of various types and sizes, some were missing.
In the centre two figures fought, one fought in boiled leathers, he darted quickly using a shield and blunted long sword to deliver quick and deft blows. The other instantly caught Joffrey's attention. They were equipped with a dull coloured breast plate with chain underneath. The knights identity was concealed behind a closed helmet much to Joffreys annoyance as the curiosity got the better of him. A thick leather skirt came up to there mid thighs, curiously even with the bitter winds of the north there arms and legs were bare. Thick corded muscles pushed and squeezed at each other for space. The huge figure semmed to be at least 7 to possibly even 8 feet tall, making even Sandor Clegane's brother the 'mountain that walks' look small, there arms and legs powerfully wide, chest thick and powerful. They exerted physical force and strength even when they didn't move. Even still they moved in there armour with a sense of grace. In one hand they carried a large two handed claymore as a normal man would carry a sword, in the other a gigantic tower shield, which they span a twisted to block the faster opponents blows quicker than anyone ought to with such a shield. With a feint the smaller man darted inside the huge knights guard but the blow never connected as the larger used there body weight from there hips to push them back with the force that seemed akin to a punch. With a horizontal slice of there claymore the smaller of the two ducked, though even blunted the force of which Joffrey imagined could decapitate a man or at the very least break bone.
"Great fight Ser's!" He yelled, the quicker of the two distracted momentarily stared in his direction as the monstrous knight slammed them to the ground with there shield, claymore pinned to there neck as he stared up into the closed visor of the giant, deflated and beaten.
"I yield!" The smaller man, resigned himself to say, the larger man removed the blade from his neck with a swiftness, quickly impaling the large sword 3 ft into the hard frozen soil with little to no resistance, his large hand leveled to pick up his comrade, with a swift tug, the smaller warrior was pulled to there feet in seconds much to Joffrey's amusement to which he swore he saw him leave the ground if only momentarily. The smaller man grumbled before removing his helmet, black locks falling from the helmet, tangled with sweat and exertion, he had his father Eddard Stark's bearing.
"Who are you brave sir knight?" Joffrey spoke, more curious in the giant but pleasantry and protocol had to be obeyed to the Stark's, unless until he became king.
"Robb Stark your grace, I'am Lord Eddard's oldest son as we didn't get the pleasure to meet earlier." Robb raised one hand to remove the sweat from his brow, wiping it on his armour in an uncourteous manner.
"You fought well but your master of arms it seems is a stout and seasoned fighter, he has trained you well!" Joffrey slyly smiled, Robb unsure if he was mocking or praising him.
"Master of arms? You are confused ser, this is not our master of arms Ser Rodrik Cassel. This is my sister, lady Sansa!" The words fell onto Joffrey like a tonne of bricks, this knight was Robb's younger sister?! Eddard Stark's oldest daughter! With a deft tug of there closed knights helmet followed by pulling there chain mail coif away from there head. long ginger locks flowed downwards in the wind like water, cloyed together in places by sweat, there pale face angelic in contrast to there titanic frame and armour, surely this couldn't be possible.
"Pleased to meet you, your grace!" The large armour groaned and warped as she curtseyed in the manner befitting a lady of her standing, as she bent down, he could see her thick neck muscles and traps that crept up her shoulders beyond anything he'd ever bare witnessed before, she was.. Blushing in his presence, almost unbelievable that such a gigantic woman should be shy of all things.
"Er... quite, Are you not cold lady Sansa with your limbs so bare?" Joffrey rubbed his hands together for effect, the northern chill creeping into his very bones.
"No my prince, the northern weather I find most aggreable!" she beamed with a huge toothy grin, placing her hand on her armoured hip with a slight laugh.
"Erm, yes carry on Ser! ... Lady!" Flustered he turned to leave, blood rushing to his face as he went a brighter shade of red. Cringing over how embarrassing the whole situation was, he felt something beyond his usual routine of anger and spite, his bodyguard Sandor was smirking too himself over the whole exchange.
"Would of won if I didn't get distracted!" Robb stood lordly, sheathing his sword on the rack, Sansa approached from behind him, her gigantic armoured form standing over him closely.
"What ever you say brother!" with a deft tug, she grabbed him tightly around the waist with one titanic arm, the other ruffled his hair, laughing and giggling to herself as he struggled.
"Your dismissed hound, go to your Kennel and await my orders... Be gone you cur!" Joffrey spat, still storming of not, not stopping his quick pace to even look or listen for the hounds reply, he had bigger fish to fry as he passed into the main keep and into the turret spiral staircase to his chamber, when he was sure no one was looking half way up the staircase he listened for foot steps or anyone who could be watching. He stopped himself, he had never been so turned on by such display of power! He was envious mostly but that woman was beyond his wildest fantasy, almost akin to discovering something he had wanted but never thought to ever think of before.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the staircase from above, quickly the prince composed himself, making sure his erection wasn't visible, a large shadow cast down the side of the staircase, the clanging of feet on stone was immense, as the silhouette approached into view. The younger Stark sister, this one wasn't as classically beautiful as her older sister her face more comely. This one wore more modest though thick typical northern clothing, her height equal to Joffrey, no more than 5'8 but she was imposing, her face scowled at him, glaring into his very soul, Joff wished he hadn't dismissed the hound to protect him. Her body almost as wide as she was tall, thick powerful muscles contracted as she stepped by him sideways to get past, stopping half way her thick body pining him menacingly to the wall without even trying by shear lack of space and how vast she was.
"I was watching my sister fight from the gantry, I saw you did too... She's a sensitive soul and stupid at times but she's still my sister, don't you dare treat her like I've heard rumours of from down south..." She moved her face closer for emphasis, her brown messy hair practically dangled in his face, her's a mask of anger.
"I-I-I..." Joffrey mumbled.
"Do you understand!?" Arya yelled, slamming her thick and large fist into the stone wall to the side of his head, the rock splintering ever so slightly, a small puff of dust flowing out into the air that he spluttered on as she rolled her eyes at his weakness, he nodded enthusiastically as if his life depended on it.
"Good!" She smiled innocently, tilting her head to one side before recoiling her wide body from his, she began skipping down the stairs humming a tune to herself each step, clattering down the tower.
Composing himself yet again he felt nothing but anger and hatred for that 'horsed faced girl' ignorant swine! I'm the prince, No one tells me what to do! Clenching his fists in rage he didn't dare speak his thoughts out loud in case Arya was still listening. Instead a thin smile appeared on his worm like lips, carefully he climbed to the top of the staircase, walking where he pleased he soon found Aryas room, turning the large iron door handle he pushed the large oaken door inwards.
The room was large and vaulted, stone bricks like everywhere else in the castle but this one was different, it was massive, possibly even bigger than the kings room in the eastern section of the castle, everything was beyond normal. The bed was gigantic, with a massive and possible ancient dire wolves pelt covering the bed, reinforced chairs braced with iron, the centre piece was a bodice and dress that sat on a clothes horse, it was truly massive and it seemed to imitate the style of down south but had northern style to it, Aryas dress...
We a grin he looked over the stitching, long ago he had learnt the appropriate places to pull on the seems, to remove and cut so it fall to pieces quickly and at once but not till much later after much movement. He had learnt this trick after years of pulling it on his younger sister Myrcella and once on his mother, though he came to regret it when she had him beaten for it, a tinge of apprehension followed of the idea of Arya literally pummeling his face into the dirt. Her mighty biceps flaring as she roared in triumphant, his arousal quickly returned as he finished pulling the last seam, admiring his handy work with bravado.With graceless movement he stepped towards the entrance, there stood a small meek girl, a bucket and brush in hand to no doubt clean the floors or what ever peasents did, he cared not.
"Beg your forgiveness my lord" she curtseyed and turned to leave, he moved lightning fast grabbing her by the back of the hair, pulling hard on her light wispy brown hair, his other hand reached for the throat, squeezing for effect.
"I'm the prince of the seven kingdoms and you will address me as such." he snarled into her face.
"Yes... My prince" she choked between tears, with a sudden intensity he stopped, shaking the stench of a commoner from his grasp on the thick pelt on the bed.
"Tell no one I was here, tell anyone and I'll have you beaten by my hound!" The left side of his mouth twitching with animosity for her social standing.
"You do know who the hound is?!" His gaze pierced her, face growing red in impatience. Still recovering she nodded wiping the tears forming away from her face.
"Good, never forget who your betters are whelp!" Walking by the red eyed girl with an air of authority that only years of living under the tutelage of his cruel mother had taught him.

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The feast had started spectacularly, the stores of winterfell were vast and well stocked for the incoming long winter of which it was expected to be announced by the wise maester's of old town any month from now. The Stark's were an old and proud family and prudent in there rationing, but with the kings entourage here they put the stores to the test. King Robert Baratheon was once known for his successful rebellion against the cruel Targaryen's, a might warrior! But in victory he was now known more for his large appetites, wine, food and woman were more the fables the common folk spoke of now.
The King sat away from Queen Cersei who sat watching the whole affair in disdain, her two youngest children laughed among themselves while Joffrey sat eyes full of hate for the event. She had become use to his shameless displays. King Robert sat eating with a pewter pitcher of wine in one hand, a whore sat on his lap as they both laughed as he told her the story of how he fought Rhaegar Targaryen on the trident, embellishing details as he saw fit. Eddard Stark lord of Winterfell sat sternly watching everyone as the servants ran around filling flagons and putting various northern delicacy's for there guests, everything was going smoothly as could be expected.
The large entrance hall, framed by pillars stood a large double oaken door, with a creaking push the doors swung open, Stark guards stood either side, halberds in hand as the Stark ladies entered the hall. Nobles of various houses and daughters of various retainers in the household passed through, there dresses elegant but practical, Cersei sneered at there primitive dresses compared to the latest fashions of the south. However what caught her eye however was the two Stark girls.
With a raised eyebrow she saw the younger of the two Arya approach, she was abnormally large for her age, almost comical as her wide muscular frame was compacted into a dress, she fidgeted and tugged at it, her face that of disgust, seemingly in herself, Joffrey giggled to himself much to Cersei's shock, he never enjoyed these formal events, what had gotten into him?
Behind her the Lannister and Baratheon contingent fell to silence as the older of Eddard Starks daughters Sansa Stark stepped under the door, having to stoop to get through the gap much to her dismay. Her auburn red locks were done in a semi imitation of the south style which was all the rage in the capital. She nervously smiled to defuse the situation. To the northern lords this was business as usual, the music still Blared from the northern musicians, pipes and flutes, drums echoed out through the hall as a lute player strummed to a merry jaunt.
Her dress was form fitted over her mighty muscular body, thick neck muscles the likes most hadn't seen except on the 'mountain' but this girl made him look like a boy. Her arms mighty beyond what could be fought possible, her breasts none existent, pushed outwards in mockery of the female form into thick muscular pectoral muscle. Her waist was wider, leading to a strong wide pair of hips which pulled the dress taut over the tops of her thighs.
"What is Ned Stark feeding them?" Cersei whispered, laughing to one of her cronies who returned the laugh in kind.
Joffrey's eyes almost bugged out of his head as he watched Sansa step, each one shaking a nearby table she passed slightly as her muscular hips and thighs powered towards a specially made chair next to her sister. With a hesitation she gingerly sat on the chair, it began creaking and protesting in response, she winced in embarrassment, whispering something to a servant, though he looked more a builder, perhaps it was for future modifications?
The food piled out in force, lamb and chicken with all kinds of available slices and figs and summer fruit brought from down south, Sansa took delicate bites trying to restrain herself, her stomach audibly rumbling in anger for her to unleash herself and gorge upon protein. Joffrey watched intently, something was off, Aryas dress hadn't broken at all, it stood intact much to his shock and disdain.
Sansa could take no more, in true northern fashion, she stood her large form casting from the torch light over the table, as her large, thick calloused hands reached over to pull a suckling pig over to where she sat, ripping chunks of flesh and consuming the meat in timely fashion, in minutes the pig was devoured! Patting her huge muscular gut with powerful biceps, the cobblestone abs apparent through the thinning fabric, punctuating her meal with a humongous belch that echoed through the feasting hall, it was only then she had realized how unladylike she had been turning a shade of red.
"Couldn't of said it better!" King Robert Baratheon laughed raising a goblet of wine spilling half down his tunic, standing to his feet in a drunken haze. Joffrey was smitten by this northern girl, so powerful it reached him in ways he couldn't understand, she defied all convention, it was then it hit him, the dress he had sabotaged wasn't Arya's... It was Sansa's.
"I was going to announce this later but now's as good as time as any, so fuck it!" The king laughed as all turned attention to him.
"Lord Eddard and I have decided to join our houses together, my Eldest Joffrey will Marry Sansa in union of our houses..." The king proclaimed, as the chanting and table clanging reached a peak crescendo. Joffrey just starred at Sansa as he stood as King Robert urged him to stand to accept congratulations, all the while his focus was on Sansa who stood now herself, the fabric finally giving way with a gigantic rip down the back of her dress, she turned to look exposing her impossibly wide muscular back to all in attendance, this further loosened the seams, tearing the remind of the dress to pieces, her dress falling into tatters around her.
"No, no this has to be a nightmare no!" She screamed as she desperately tried to hold the scraps to her body, parts of anatomy on display to all in attendance, thick hulking muscles corded over her body. Arya sat laughing at her display, pointing.
With one intense step she bounded down the feasting hall, stepping on a stool with her gigantic foot, the force of which turned it to kindling as her foot slammed it into the ground. two more stomps and she tripped into a guard knocking him flat on his back. Finally she reached the closed door she had entered, her thick hands and forearms struggled on the wood to open it, her sobs and tears and rage at there zenith as all stood in silence. With a sharp shoulder barged she slammed her weight into the door, ripping it of its hinges, pushing it forward as she ran down the corridor crying her way to her room, silence from the hall following her like an arrow in the dark.

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The hulking girl lay on her vast bed crying and sobbing to herself, why had fate been so cruel? Why had she had to have one of her growth spurts during the kings feast? In front of her now betrothed of all people! Her hands thick hands wiped away her tears long enough to reach over to a pile of her favourite food lemon cakes. Her father had no doubt ordered they be sent up. with fierce abandonment she ate each one whole chewing and swallowing quickly moving for another till they were all gone, wiping away the crumbs that lay on her thick pecs, onto the floor.
She wept some more at how pathetic she was being, as she sat to an upright position, the wooden, steel reinforced cot whining in kind to her movements. Pulling the wolf skin to her chest she took a deep smell of its musty scent, she was a Stark and this was a deep reminder that they were made of stronger stuff. Wiping away the tears she turned to the left over food that had been brought up by a servant, springing to her feet with a tremendous thud she raised both hands to the air interlocking her fingers and stretching all muscle groups at once. With stone shaking footsteps while still very much naked she pounded over to the table, full of all her favourites no doubt her father had sneaked out just for her.
Her petite features scrunched up, her attention turned to the stone floor, worn done more and more by her intense workouts her body craved, still to this day they couldn't explain her and her sisters sudden growth spurts, when her father had suggesting sword training she had turned down the idea but as it became more and more difficult to sew without destroying the cloth or practice more ladylike past times she took it up out of boredom, now it had become an obsession. she loved her growing body though as she was still a shy girl she didn't admit it to anyone. Her stomach growled in protest again, more and more her body wanted her to eat and with that the more and more she grew, no matter how much she tried to fight it.
With a thin smile she sat at her oaken stool as she began to take massive bites, rending gout's of meat that fell apart within her thick fingers, grease smearing up her hands and around her lips as she moaned in supplicance, her gigantic muscular back hunched over the trays of meat and food. This carried on till there was nothing left, her thick muscular gut pressing into the table, she could feel her muscles tingling and numb in places, it was almost euphoric, with a sound akin to a ship hitting a rock the reinforced stool gave away under her bulk shattering as her huge muscular glutes slammed into the stone floor shaking the room slightly, anywhere else Sansa would have felt ashamed instead she felt pride, with every day she was becoming more and more mighty, soon she would become one the greats of the world that she had heard about like Bran the builder or Nymeria the warrior Queen.
The door creaked open as Sansa sprang to her feet slamming the large table over with her engorged thighs, diving to hide behind the pelt. "Who's there? I'm trying to get changed!" Sansa croaked, trying to cover her humongous body from the intruder.
"Begging your pardon your Ladyship, its just Jacline your handmaiden" the meek, mousy girl spoke out in the dark room closing the door behind herself, Sansa had always trusted Jacline, she was dependable and loyal, she was also use to the girl helping her dress as it was becoming more and more difficult to dress herself these days, she had seen her growing muscular body a hundred or more times and as such, Sansa lowered her guard dropping the wolf pelt covering her modesty.
"Does your grace require more food? Or just a hand to get dressed?" The small girl intoned with a massive smile on her face.
"What's the point Jacline? My freakish body tore my clothes to shreds, I've already made a fool of myself in front of everyone, the king and queen, my father and mother! And dear sweet Joffrey...." She let out a dreamy sigh, her shoulders and muscular traps lowering only slightly.
"Your grace, may I speak bluntly?" Jaclline spoke, Sansa raised one eye brow nodding, rolling her wrist in a motion for her to continue.
"Prince Joffrey is... A brute! I caught him in here, he was looking over your dress, he hurt me Lady Sansa, threatened me if I told anyone!" The small girl was on the verge of crying as Sansa leaped to her feet naked as her warm body wrapped around her, comforting her, soothing her as she rubbed her head in a motherly fashion. Jacline had never lied from what Sansa could tell, she had been a loyal friend to for numerous years. Sansa kneeled down to the poor girl and with her giant finger as carefully as possible wiped away her tears, while making soothing noises to calm the girl down.
"Tell Ser Rodrik to get my armour, say its important and to tell no one else..." Sansa gritted her teeth as Jacline raced out of the chamber, she had never been more furious in her life.

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The stomping sound grew louder and louder, he had awoken in a cold sweat. Nightmares of all the victims he had tormented over the years. The shaking of the room grew louder even still. With a gigantic shudder the clattering stopped.
"Hound! HOUND! are you still outside there? see what that noise is and shut it u..." Joffreys words were cut short as the door to his chamber shattered inwards, iron reinforcements warped and ruined, the black metallic figure of the hound crashing through back first as he hit the slick surface skidding along the smooth stoned floor, blooded noise, unconscious.
"Please what ever you want its yours! my family is beyond rich take anything you want just don't finish me!" Joffrey pleaded, his sheets tucked under his chin with both hands clenched tightly still in bed, eyes streaming looking towards the door frozen on the spot.
"Anything?" A feminine voice replied, crouching to get through the narrow door frame, Sansa's shoulders scrapped the wooden entrance, dust and debris following her entrance, her dull yet practical armour clung a little tighter, her muscular flesh visible in places, helm less her hair cascaded downwards flowing freely, her face a masque of pure vengeance.
"I know it was you Joffrey, I know it was you that sabotaged my dress, tormented my hand maiden into silence, Winter has come for you Joffrey" she stepped forward, heavy laden footsteps that menaced him further, each even powerful from her weighted armour. She stepped forward like a wolf hunting its prey, each stride asserting her dominance over the minuscule prince.
"I-It wasn't me, I didn't I..." immediately he was cut short as she picked up the large dresser to her right throwing it against the fire place, the dresser crumbling into pieces, wood and clothes spraying over the floor.
With a quick stride she stood over his bed, her massive 8 and a half feet form stood over him, her neck muscles twitched in anger, he could see the veins exposed raw on her neck, he was gibbering now. Arching her muscular armoured plated greaved leg upwards she placed her foot to the side of his body on the bed, quickly shifting her body over with her other thick armoured thigh to his other side, bringing her full weight down, the bed frame crunching under her weight as it fell to the floor with a loud crash, Joffrey yelped pinned between her body as her thighs closed to hold him in place. With practiced familiarity she removed her thick armoured gauntlets, her giant hands moved to encompass his own, completely trapped by her body and strength, his arousal and fear at equal levels.
"I Forgive you but I know who you are now and we will be joined, your father the king has decreed it. One day I will be Queen, Winter is coming my Prince! never forget that, till then... BEHAVE!" she roared in his face, her strength and presence overwhelming him as he fainted into a heap on the bed. Queen Sansa, she liked the sound of it.

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Authors note:

So this is a quasi part two to the previous 'fire and blood' part from our 'song of fire and ice' series JD and I collaborated. Some slight revisions from the books / story for obvious reasons, but still set in the same universe. Chronologically wise, this story takes place way before the Daenerys chapter, consider it a prequel of sorts. The already planned next few parts all take place in the correct order so I guess you can consider the Daenerys chapter my Quentin Tarantino moment of showing the ending before the actual story. I hope you enjoy the hard work that Jderril put into this, it really shows and I'm very proud of what he's accomplished. I also hope you enjoy my silly little story as well enjoy

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Morphers note:

This was one of those morphs that pushed my skills to their limit and beyond. Trying to build an actual armor from scratch and making her absolute musculature work in unison with something like that. And let's face it. A real knights armor isn't the most sexy outfit, and trying to find a balance between hot musculature and a good armor was a challenge. Aafsa and I had a bit of a fight over this, but I am glad her persistence pushed through in realizing something I am very proud of. Both story and picture.

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For those who want to see Sansa bigger, here she is as a seperate morph: Sansa version 3 - DEF
Previous Part: War of the Five Queens: Fire and Blood