Rob Stark was dead, and from his place on the throne, the boy King gloated as though he'd slain the young wolfing himself. Sansa had only a brief few hours of grievance before the King summoned her to the throne room.
The knock on her chamber door revealed the Hound, come to escort her to the nightmare awaiting. The gallant knight of death, leading me to King Joffery's hands, Sansa thought bitterly in her suffering. The Hound looked like death, all mangled and scorched, calloused and angry. But the Hound wasn't a knight, and he kept reminding the little bird of that. She also knew that when journeying into the depths of seven hells, she'd much rather his escort then that of Ser Meryn Trant's.
Her eyes were still weeping and puffy, red and swollen with her loss as they walked the familiar steps to the hall. The Hound didn't make things any easier. He kept silent a stride behind her, only his armor clanking with each step.
They weren't far from the Great room when Sansa broke. She rested herself against the wall, stifling sobs, and trying to calm hiccups between sharp breathes.
"Its not fair. It's not fair. Why can't he just leave me be? I've done nothing, nothing to deserve this. Ive been only but a good ward to them. Why." She looked up at him, tears cascading freely, wiping them away with the sleeves of her dress.
The Hound's only comfort to give was a contorted frown and a single, white handkerchief.
"Here, you'll ruin your gown." He said gruffly.
She took it from him and dabbed her eyes, thinking his words rude, but thanking him none the less.
At the doors, a few more words fell upon her ears in his raspy, deep voice.
"He will try to break you, little bird. Don't let the bastard get his way." And, just for a moment, the Hound was her dog, not Joffery's. But then the room opened and she took her place at the center, while the Hound took his by the king, hand on hilt, rabid and stony-faced.
She faced the King, lips pouting, body trembling, but strong, shoulders back, head high.
"Sweet Sansa, my lady. Why, you've been crying. It displeases me to see you so saddened, but I wonder - what could ail you so?"
Sansa took only a moment before the words formed at her tongue, and she delivered them, sullen and flat.
"You're Grace, I'm sorry I displease you. I find I cannot stop my weeping - tears of joy, my Lord, for my traitor brother is dead, and now he won't raid the city and take me away from the truest place I call my home. I couldn't be happier, and now all the people of Kings Landing can live safe and happy lives under the protection of your grace, without the threa -"
"Enough, you bore me."
Sansa swallowed the lump at her throat.
"But, yes, your traitor brother is dead. I killed him." Joffery made a dreadful show of placing the nameless crossbow upon his lap and drawing the string back, clicking the deadly weapon into place.
"And I could kill you too, sweet Sansa, your traitor father and brother were nothing but trouble to the sworn crown, and you are blood of their blood - why would I trust you, to keep you here under my protection as you so valiantly put it. I find I have no need for you." He aimed between her eyes.
She had no fancy words to play, all she could do was beg.
"Please, your Grace. I'm not like them, I've not a traitorous bone in my body -"
"But you have traitors blood, and that is enough to fill me with perdition." He gently - almost sweetly, placed the bow on the ground beside the throne, and instead griped the hilt of his sword. He drew it and pointed at her. The boy King stood, and descended the steps to close her in. He pressed the blade against her cheek, the steel catching a wayward tear.
"You understand my position," He sighed. "It is my responsibility as King to see to it that no one rises against us again. And you, my Lady, are a stain. Mayhap not soon, but one day, you could fall victim to the war cries of your dead brother's banner-men, and plot revenge against me."
"No, your Grace, I am a good and loyal servant to the crown and I wouldn't dare betray you, ever."
"Perhaps Heart Eater will enjoy the blood of your throat. Look, Its soaking up your tears right now. Can you imagine the joy red would befall it?"
"Your Grace, please, I am loyal to only you. Forever. I won't rise against you, I promise."
"Swear it, pledge fidelity to me, now and forevermore. Do it, and I shall spare your life."
Sansa swallowed hard.
"I vow, with all my heart, that I shall forever cast my traitor family aside. I pledge fidelity to your Lord Grace, Joffery Baratheon, the one true King in the seven. I will live the rest of my days to serve only you and your great realm, with nothing but loyalty in my heart and my love for you."
Joffery brought the blade to her throat and sneered, cutting her ever so slightly, before dropping it to his side.
"Excellent." He crooned, turned on point and made way for the throne. Blood ran down her skin and seeped into the neckline of her bodice. By the time he'd turned and sat, the King held a leer on his lips and a glint in his eye so foul it blackened her own soul. The face of a man brewing an evil thought.
"Meryn." The knight approached the King.
"Your Grace."
The King spoke softly, and Sansa was unable to hear a word, but soon Meryn sniggered and faced her with a vile simper.
"Yes, your Grace." The knight left, and in his dying footsteps, Joffery reared his ugly head once again.
"Sansa, my Lady, come closer." She did as she was bid.
"It pleases me that you've become a submissive little wolf. Much like my Hound here." He gestured toward the man, and when Sansa looked upon him, he appeared as hard as he did forbidding, with no sympathies to give her. A dog in the presence of it's master is unlike a dog alone, she thought, palming the handkerchief in her sleeve.
"So now I have two dogs at court." Joffery said smugly. "Perhaps I'll have pups one day."