For the first time since her arrival in King's Landing, Sansa Stark well and truly hated her bedchambers. The bed had lost its softness after she had laid upon it for hours, seeking sleep that would not come. Her eyes had roamed about the room, touching upon the walls, the door, even the furniture and the tiniest details so many times she could picture it perfectly behind closed eyelids.
Sleep had evaded her for two nights now, for whenever she closed her eyes to the dark she was met with the sight of her father's head on a pike. Sansa was certain she would never be able to erase the image from her mind, where it lurked in the shadows and jumped out at the smallest things that reminded her of him.
She'd never been very close to her father – Arya had always been his favorite daughter, and Sansa knew it. They were so very different, she and her father, even she and her siblings. Their wolf blood was more prominent than hers, that much was for certain. But no matter what she might have said in times of anger, she had never hated her father. Certainly she had never wanted him dead; even when he hadn't fought for Lady's life, she had never hated him as much as that.
As tired as she was, Sansa didn't notice the light of dawn seeping into her room. She blinked, and in a flash, her chambers were gone, replaced by an empty throne room. She stood alone, in one of her nice dresses, facing the empty throne. Lady stood obediently at her side, but, no, that wasn't right. Lady was gone, the Queen had seen to that. In confusion, Sansa blinked again, and when she opened her eyes, Joffrey stood before her.
He was angry, that much she could tell by the way he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Her ears rang, almost like a bell; she couldn't hear what he was saying, but she could tell he was angry by the look on his face and the way his lips twisted.
Joffrey's lips stilled, eyes searching her face with a questioning look. He must have asked a question, but Sansa hadn't heard it. The prince stared at her a moment longer before his face twisted into a look of disgust. His hands left her shoulders; one of them drew back to strike her.
The hit never landed, because a great flash of white shot between the two of them.
The blonde boy flew backwards as Lady's weight landed on him. He screamed; Sansa didn't move, only stared at Lady's back, writhing like a great snake as she tore at the prince, who was hidden from her master's view.
Then, suddenly, Sansa was much closer to the ground than normal. She stood on four legs, in a body covered in fur, a tail sticking out behind her. She had fangs, too, fangs that tore at the body beneath her. Fangs that closed on the once-powerful prince's throat with finality; fangs that tore muscle and skin away from bone.
Red sprayed upwards in a great gush around her jaws, painting the coveted throne like a deadly portrait.
The body beneath Sansa grew still, though not silent. She could hear again, and hear she did. Blood gurgled out of the royal's ruined throat, forming a crimson pool around his corpse. The same blood marked her face like war paint.
Joffrey's eyes stared without seeing, and Sansa could taste the salt of his blood in her mouth.
As sudden as it had started, the vision ended. She woke with a great lurch, her fingers flying up to touch her lips almost reverently. Her lips were dry; she was in bed once more.
It had been a dream.
Sansa was disappointed.
What can I say… I hate Joffrey (who doesn't?). I wasn't entirely sure if this would be classified as a high T or an M, I went with M to be safe. Let me know what you think, rating or otherwise!