"So now I have two dogs at court." Joffery said smugly. "Perhaps I'll have pups one day."

Pure untainted, unadulterated dread washed over her in its most simple form. It drained all the colour from her skin, leaving a pale white that mirrored the likes of Jon Snow's direwolf, Ghost. He couldn't mean to give me to the Hound. But, he could. Sansa knew - and while in the dead of the night, the girl, fraught with sexual frustrations unbeknownst to her, would allow herself the unspeakable wild visions of a gentler Hound with a kinder face taking her into the marriage bed - the reality of such a thing come true made her tense with worry.
"And my new dog, Lady -" he paused for his words to take affect. It took a moment for Sansa to realize the King was referring to her as Lady, and not a lady. And when she understood, though her tears had stopped flowing, the sting in hear heart was raw. "- must be broken in, like all good dogs are taught."
Like Sandor Clegane's pet name, Lady was also titled after a noble, most loyal creature. How Sansa missed her pup's soft fur and gentle heart. She stood taller and refused to take this humiliation as an insult.
"My Lord, my Lady direwolf was a beautiful, loving creature who gave me such bound loyal respect until her very end. I am filled with pride you would name me in such a way."
"Bite your tongue, bitch, or I'll have my dog rip it from your throat. Aye, Ser Meryn - how was your trip to the kennels?" The entire court turned, as a body of one, to see Meryn Trant re-enter the hall with a dog collar dangling from his brute fingers, a chain of steel, and two dog bowls tucked under his arm.
"Invigorating, your Grace, the hounds do seem keen for a hunt, as am I." The King looked positively elated.
"Aye, and when my duties here are done, we shall take heed and hunt forth in the noon. I could use a decent kill myself. You there," he motioned to a servant boy. "See to it the preparations are made." The boy seem startled, nodded and left almost more shaken then Sansa found herself. She felt pity for the child, for she knew if he were to mishap even in one small matter, or the hunt didn't go as planned, Joffery would maim him.
"Sansa, I have brought you a necklace, don't you find it pretty?"
Meryn stalked forward. The collar was old and dirty, the leather fraying. It smelt of wet dog and excrement. He will try to break you, little bird. Don't let the bastard get his way. The Hound's words were wrought in her skull. Don't let him break me. Don't let him break me. Show your lord father and mother the courage they would be proud for. Don't let him break me.
"Yes, your Grace, it's beautiful."
"Meryn, please bestow Lady with her gift."
"Gladly, your Grace."
Before Ser Meryn could handle her, she gracefully swept her hair aside, exposing her slender nape. This maddened him, she could see it in the flair of his nostrils. "Oh, so courteous," he grated, and moved to her back. Sansa stole a glance toward the Hound, hoping she would see an air of approval about him, but he was the same as before, standing tall and taut, and rough and grim. He wasn't even looking at her. A disheartened, hallow pang settled in her chest.
Perhaps he didn't care for her after all. Not that I should mind, Sansa settled. The man was rude, vile and a ferocious brute. She had thought, though, that there might have been some sort of involvement between them. The night the sky turned green, when Stannis's army had loomed forth upon Kings Landing gates akin to as much. After all, he'd taken the absurdity to approach her in the stark privacy of her own rooms with nothing but an aggressive vile tongue, and drunken promises to keep her safe.
Before he left, he ripped his cloak and dropped it in a twisted, bloody heap upon the floor. She fell asleep with it huddled around her, the smell of blood, and burn and bile, of muck and mud and wine left her sated with the thought of him. It was the smell of a man she was deathly afraid of, but one whom now presented so heavily, intoxicating her dreams almost every night.
She was afraid she might never see him again. But it was not so, for the Hound had been found the very next morn, passed out from blind drunkenness on the steps nearest to Maegor's gate. Since then, she had thought to give him back his cloak, but he'd adorned a new one and Sansa was a selfish girl, for want of their personal interlude to remain alive - the cloak made her fading memory valid, and she didn't want to blame it on her dreams. It would seem the Hound, though, had deterrent thoughts, for he acted no differently in her favor since that night, perhaps even less kind then before.
Ser Meryn was unsparing in his binding, and fastened the latch so tight Sansa could scarcely breathe. But she recited her courteous all the same.
"Thank you, Ser. I adore it." She spoke to Meryn directly. His lips only curled upwards into a vicious snarl as he hooked the chain to the loop.
"Tie her to the pillar," The Kings voice rattled in her head, and she was led over to the front left side of the room, and tethered like a dog to a tree. The bowls were set at her feet and Joffery yelled for them to be filled with river water and scraps from the kitchen.
"Dog."
"Your Grace."
"See to it that the bitch stays put until my say so. Her maids are not to pet her. No one is to approach. And Lady, if you are well behaved for the Hound, perhaps I'll gift you with the bones of my slain carcass upon my return."
"Most generous of you, your Grace. I hope your hunt is glorious and plentiful, I shall wait with worry, praying for your safe return."
Joffery approached, unhurried and leant close to her ear. His murmur sent sickly shivers down her spine that made her toes tingle.
"You are my bitch, sweet Lady, and If my mother, uncle or grandfather try to come to your aid in any way." His teeth grazed her lobe, forcing a shudder about her body. "Well, you would be... quite wise, to turn them away." He gently kissed her jaw line. "I do hope you...understand." He threatened, pulling back. His eyes were dead. How could anyone have such dead eyes?
"I understand." She said curtly.
"Good." He breathed. "Now," He cupped her cheek. His hand cold, and clammy, and boney. "Get some rest, Lady, for tomorrow I have an announcement to make, and it will be a very important day for you."