The Battle of Blackwater was won. King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name, crushed Stannis Baratheon's army on the Blackwater with the backing of the Lannister and Tyrell armies.
From her window, Sansa watched the Blackwater burn. Even after the surprise attack with wildfire, Stannis's men flooded the beaches, screaming, shouting, killing. She felt as if the Blackwater would rise up over the city walls, engulfing her in a green and fiery death. A death she preferred over a beheading by Ser Ilyn Payne.
She clutched her doll.
She thought of her father.
As a tear rolled from her cheek she told herself: I can be brave. When sleep took her, she saw the evil flames flicker behind her eyelids, heard the screams of dying men, and Joffrey's smile.
In the royal throne room, all watched as Tywin Lannister was proclaimed the "Savior of King's Landing" and the new Hand of the King. Sansa shuddered at the word. Lord Petyr Baelish was awarded for his good service and ingenuity for uniting the houses of Lannister and Tyrell, and was granted the castle of Harrenhal.
"You honor me beyond word, Your Grace. I shall have to acquire some sons and grandsons," he said, with a sly smile.
He then looked up towards Sansa, with that same half smile, but his eyes had darkened. Petyr, although he claimed to want the best for her, made Sansa uneasy. His mouth said one thing, but his eyes were filled with want of something else. He was one of the only men that she thought she could trust and knew she shouldn't trust at all.
Joffrey then called up Ser Loras, the beautiful Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras looked even more handsome, more mature even, than he did at the Hand's Tourney. He had survived the battle, a man, she thought. Sansa's heart fluttered at the memory of the tourney. Somewhere on her dressing table, the red rose he gave her lay. Although wilted, it smelled just as sweet. Petyr's grin grew deeper. Joffrey then shifted uncomfortably on his throne and announced awkwardly: "You house has…come to our aid, the whole realm is in your debt, none more so than I. If your family would ask anything of me: ask it. And it shall be yours." Whenever Joffrey tried to sound "king-like," Sansa noticed that he sounded like a child fumbling over his words. Even with obviously rehearsed lines, they came out unnaturally.
He is no king.
Loras started: "Your Grace." Said so perfectly and eloquently! Down on one knee, his sandy-brown hair framed his face like a wreath, and in that moment he truly looked like the knight Florian. He continued: "My sister Margaery, her husband was taken from us before…" He paused, the words seemed to be caught in his throat: "She remains innocent." With that Joffrey sat upright, his hand coming up to rest on his face, intrigued. "I would ask you to find it in your heart, to do us the great honor in joining our houses." Whispers echoed throughout the court.
"Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?" Joffrey asked.
"With all my heart Your Grace." Margaery then stepped forward, her posture completely poised, her lips curling into a smile. Beaming, she continued: "I have come to love you from afar, tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears. And those tales have taken root deep inside of me."
Sansa held onto the banister to keep from fainting. The scene before her felt as if it were a cruel dream, and she was unable to wake up to face her fate.
Joffrey, squirming in his seat, trying not to look like a dog who was presented with a fresh bone, replied: "I too have…heard tales of your beauty and grace, but your tales do not do you justice, my lady." Margaery smiled sweetly. She was perfect. "It would be an honor to return your love, but, I am promised to another. A king must keep his word." Sansa's heart throbbed in her chest, as the king shifted his gaze towards her.
Surprisingly Queen Cersei, and the rest of the small counsel agreed that it wouldn't be wise to wed a traitor's daughter, or false-king's sister.
She was to be set aside.
"Ser Loras, I will gladly wed your sweet sister. You will be my queen. And I will love you from this day, to my last day."
With that everyone clapped, and a new hope blossomed within Sansa. However, it was quickly plucked by Joffrey's cruel fingers. He raised his hand, the court fell silent.
"What shall we do with a traitor's daughter?" said Joffrey, voice filled with his usual wicked zeal, as he looked her in the eyes. Her heart dropped. He motioned to her. "Sansa, come here."
She swallowed hard, and descended the steps and knelt dutifully in front of her king. She would not beg for mercy. She knew that she wouldn't get any, not from him.
"Because there has been a slight change of arrangement, I cannot uphold the our vow that dead Ned Stark and my father made for us."
"Yes, Your Grace." Unable to know what to say, bracing herself for the cruel fate Joffrey was about to bestow upon her.
I can be brave.
"DOG!" Joffrey yelled. The Hound then appeared, and knelt curtly in front of his king. The burned side of his face twitched, and accentuated his ugly and sour scowl. He was the ugliest man Sansa had ever met. She tried to keep her breath even, but her chest heaved. Was she going to be publicly stripped and beaten again? Did Joffrey remember how the Hound covered her with his cloak to protect her modesty, and did not partake in her beating?
No, it will be much worse.
"You fought as brave as a dog could during the Battle of the Blackwater." He paused, "However, like a craven you almost deserted, and it took my dwarf uncle to put sense into you. But, as drunk as you were, you did go back and fight…" Joffrey shifted on the throne, clearly amused with his new scheme.
She heard it said that at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men into battle with him. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared. That night, the wildfire had set the river itself ablaze, and filled the very air with green flame. Even in the castle, Sansa had been afraid. Outside…she could scarcely imagine it.
"Yes, Your Grace." When The Hound replied, his eyes stayed cast down, unamused to be a part of Joffrey's new little game.
"Seeing that you're only half craven, and being that you are my loyal dog, I cannot dismiss you. You will be rewarded for your service, and bravery during the battle."
"Thank-you, Your Grace."
The whole court erupted in whispers. What did Joffrey intend for The Hound? And for the Stark girl? Lord Tyrion was not there to save her from this jape. Public embarrassment and beatings weren't as bad as this could be, and she felt as if she could wretch in front of the entire court.
She knew.
"For your loyal service and bravery during the Battle of the Blackwater, seeing that Sansa Stark is no longer betrothed, you shall take her as your bitch-wife, and make her Lady Clegane. A perfect arrangement don't you think? Ned Stark's traitor daughter, and a craven dog!" Joffrey beamed, laughing in his chair. All the small council members looked mortified, except the for the Queen Regent. The corner of her mouth lifted into the faintest grin.
Petyr interjected: "But Your Grace, Sansa Stark is still woman of value. You must not really intend to cast her to the side when she can be of use to you, and your family." The comment met deaf ears.
"Sansa Stark is the daughter of a traitor, and has traitors blood, she has said that herself. There is no value in traitor's blood Lord Baelish. She will make a perfect Lady Clegane, don't you think so too, little dove?"
For a moment, she didn't know what to say. The whole court would smell the lies on her breath, the Hound most of all. With as much courage and poise as she could muster, she spoke. "As a traitor's daughter I thank-you, Your Grace, for granting more mercy than my traitor father." The words burning on her tongue, she looked him square in the eyes and continued, "I promise to be a dutiful wife to the Hou- Sandor Clegane."
"Let it be done then! Let the houses of Stark and Clegane be joined! Enjoy your gift, Hound."
"Thank you, Your Grace." He replied, not once looking Sansa.
As she exited the throne room she was approached by Lord Baelish. He grabbed her arm, and she was quickly forced into close proximity with him.
"I know that you don't want this to happen Sansa." He said, stroking a strand of hair away from her face. She could smell his minty breath. She shuddered. "I could take you far away from here, to your mother and brother perhaps, where there would be no Hound waiting for you in your marriage bed. I could keep you safe."
As badly as she wanted to accept, to run far away as possible that she could, she couldn't. And as badly as she wanted to sprout wings and fly away from the Red-Keep, away from Joffrey, Cersei, Ser Ilyn Payne, Ser Meryn, and all the people who took joy in seeing her harmed, she knew she wouldn't be any safer.
"I will be safe here. The Hou- Sandor Clegane will keep me safe."
"You're a fool to think that a man like The Hound will keep you safe." Petyr said, his voice filled with disgust as he pulled away, leaving Sansa alone in the corridor.
