In her dream, she stood in the center of a room behind the Hound, the hem of her dress tattered and muddy. Strands of her hair slipped from her braids to fall messily around her unmarred face. Her eyes were wide on the Hound's back but she made no sound but for her breath, harsh and erratic, as he defended her. Foe after foe slain until the blood of her enemies covered the enclosed space from wall to wall. The Hound, ruthless and terrifying, would not stop but neither did her enemies. They continued to come until their blood lifted her feet off the ground and she was forced to paddle in it to get air. Until it rose above her head and choked her.
Sansa often thought of the Hound for hours after she awoke from this dream. She replayed the moment between his promising her safety and the stillness of the room after he had gone and spoke an agreement. Only, who would have kept her safe from him? "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." It had taken days for the knife on her throat, still warm with blood from the battlefield, to stop invading her nightmares. No, she would tell herself hours later, though they have made you a Lannister, you were right not to put your trust in such a creature.
Little bird, he had called me, but I have always been a wolf, hidden in courtesies but a wolf nonetheless.
She had ached for Lady to be near that day but not so much as she did today when Shae had held her hands and whispered the news of her brother and mother's death with a deep pity in her eyes. She had wished for Lady but she was lost to her as were all the others. She was alone in the world now.
That night, after her lord husband had bid her goodnight, she dreamt she was a wolf. She padded across dead leaves and rocks, searching for a particular scent on the wind. She bounded after the elk until she overtook it. Further ahead stood another wolf, pale even in the moonlight, who nuzzled her neck and shared her kill. And in that moment, she had felt a peaceful security she had not felt in all her time at King's Landing. The white wolf butted his head against hers. She took a step back, bewildered, but he repeated the action and then her teeth were bared and a snarl sounded in the night. She advanced in warning. The white wolf's teeth were bared as well though without any anger. It was smiling at her.
She woke that morning with a calmness that kept new tears from forming. Her heart was broken with loss but she felt strong and brave like her lady mother. It was as if a cage had formed around her heart fortifying its inhabitant. Her lord husband had left for the day she saw as she glanced at the empty chaise. She lifted a hand to her chest and breathed steadily. I am not alone yet, she remembered, for Jon is at the Wall, far from me but breathing still.
Shae came and helped her dress in silence. It was only when she sat Sansa at her vanity, brushing her lady's hair out, that she said, "the King wants to see you."
She tensed for a moment because she knew what Joffrey wanted. He wanted to smirk in that ugly way he had of doing and laugh in court over her family's misfortune. Their demise. She wished that she were truly a wolf traipsing in the forest without a care and feasting on stags and snapping her jaws at lions. In the mirror, her eyes flickered yellow and she felt that calmness return to her.
"I am ready," she said.