The sun shone throughout the Red Keep, light and fluffy, and kissed her cheeks. The day ought to have been beautiful, but not for Sansa.

"Come on, girl. Time to wake. The King is on his way." Sansa had barely opened her eyes when the Hound took her by the waist and lifted her right way up. She gripped his arms until her feet were planted properly. In a calmer moment, this near personal interaction would have stilled the man before her, but as she looked at him she noticed an emotion not shown prior.

Dread. He was dreading the moment to come. He covered it well, exhibiting a false calmness with hard eyes and level breathing, but he was perturbed, agitated.

He knew something she did not.

"Whats going on?"

"The King has returned. He want's to see you. He has..." the Hound paused. "Presents." The snarl came from so deep with in his belly it rattled her core. In the urgency of all the commotion, Sansa found herself a little lost. She noticed the dog dishes, one filled with river water, and one filled with kitchen scraps. She let her confusion overtake briefly. Had he emptied it? It was far too embarrassing to ask, but she was silently thankful that it was back in place, the evidence of it completely erased.

A couple of maids entered and whisked about, taking her cot and clearing the un-knight's dinner. The Hound swiftly and silently swept his white cloak from her shoulders and re-attached it around his. She made a small noise of protest. She wanted it back, but knew it would have been a waste of breath to ask. The Hound wouldn't comply - nor should he.

He roughly unlatched the collar around her neck before re-fastening twice as tight, pinching her, not taking the time to be careful. She readjusted it, sure the skin of her throat would be distressed, for it was quite tender to the touch. No doubt exactly what Joffery wanted.

"I have no words, little bird." he said ruggedly as a low rumble of gossiping people began to appear outside the doors. "Don't give him a reason to strike you, not like the last time. I'm fast running out of handkerchiefs." He took two steps away and turned to face the room as the doors opened.

And instantly he pulled his mask down. His face strong and hard and unforgiving. The Hound was back to being the Kings dog. It saddened her, how easily he could slip back into that role - how easy he could choose to avoid showing emotion.

People filed into the room. Their voices died as their eyes took over the talking. Her shame was undeniable. Sansa took a deep breath and built the walls around her. She held her head high, and waited.

Joffery strode into the room a few moments later with a small hessian bag in his hands. Three of his Kings guard surrounded him, and four men with mean looking faces followed behind with hessian bags of their own.

Don't let him break me. Don't let him break me.

"Lady. How was your night?" He smirked.

Sansa curtsied.

"Well, your Grace."

"Just well?"

"More then well, your Grace."

The King sneered.

"Mayhap next time I'll leave you in the kennels, and you may see to it how well that becomes of you.

"If it pleases you, your Grace." The Kings eyes guided past her and settled on his watch dog.

"Hound."

"Your Grace," he nodded.

"How did my new pet behave?" Sansa looked to the man, whom briefly shared the look back, but his eyes were cold. He turned to Joffery, appearing almost bored.

"Like all good broken pups are meant to behave, your Grace," He sighed. "She learns quick. The Imp made a visit intending to free her. But, loyal to her master, loyal to her Grace, she turned him down."

Joffery's face grew more insidiously gleeful with each passing word.

"Excellent. I knew it wouldn't take long to break her."

The King approached, tucking a fly away lock behind her ear.

"You wouldn't believe what we found in the woods, sweet Lady. A sign from the Gods that you have truly been put in your place." He stepped back and reached into the sack.

"Don't look away now, you wouldn't want me to think you're displeased with your gift!"

He threw it at her feet.

The creature was small and round, with newborn whips of fur. The blood. So much blood. It's little eyes closed, mouth wide.

"No. No, please. Don't." Sansa staggered back into the pillar, looking away.

The boy King howled at her distress.

"Meryn, make her look." Strong hands grabbed roughly at her jaw and forced her to look back down at the direwolf's lonesome, tiny head. Joffery reached into the sack and produced it's small body. He tossed it at Sansa.

"I've named it Ned. Fitting, do you think it not?" Sansa did nothing but let the tears surge. The King snapped his fingers and the four men behind him came forward. Two of them each dumped a small black and burnt direwolf babe at her feet, singed and bloody - like the Hounds face freshly burnt.

"This one's Brandon, and little Rickon." The King cooed, pointing.

"Please Stop." Sansa cried. "Stop. They're just. Babies!" She tried reefing her jaw away from Meryn. She succeeded for only a second before Meryn clasped at her with his other hand, and dug in, giving her bruises.

"We found the mother, the stupid bitch, whelping these immoral creatures. She came such a long way south for her safety. Too bad she didn't realize the danger stages and lions behold." He motioned at the remaining two men. They did as they bid and stepped forward, producing two more pups, each mirroring the deaths of Rob and Caitlyn Stark, and thew them down in front of Sansa's. The blood pooled at her feet, for their tiny bodies were still warm.

Joffery snarled when he didn't get a further reaction from the northern girl. She had grown cold and dead.

"You know. There was one pup left. Little thing it was too - the runt. I named it Sansa. I gave it mercy. I let it live - but perhaps, if you displease me, I'll find it and kill it - that is, if it even lasts without its family." The King sighed.

Sansa gripped the chain. The boy wasn't too far from her, and the chain was long. She might not be strong, but she could find it within her to strangle him dead.

"I grow tired of your weeping." He snarled. "Somebody, get her out of my sight."

The Hound's hard hands were around her neck instantly, and in seconds the collar fell to the floor. He wrapped his thick arms around her waist and carted her out the room before she could even blink.

Deeper into the castle, with no one around, he lifted her body fast with ease and swept her up into his chest. She sobbed. Loudly and freely, and wrapped an arm round his neck, clutching his white kings guard cloak tight in her fist.