Sansa
Sansa didn't think she could cry anymore. Her head was a blaze of pain, her eyes swollen and sore. Her chest and throat hurt from the sobs.
She had run from him, his anger terrifying her. But she had returned in the morning, speaking to him from beyond the door, begging him to believe her. But he stayed silent, his door locked.
She had returned to her room, throwing herself upon her bed and wept harder than she ever thought possible.
How could it be that yesterday everything had been so perfect, so wonderful? And now, everything had fallen to chaos.
She remembered the letter – shocked to see her own writing forming words she couldn't remember. Seeing her signature sign a letter that seemed to be by someone else. It had her voice, her writing, her mark. But she had never wrote it.
The letter painted her as Joffrey's accomplis – one who loved him with all her heart and played her part for him. It made it seem that everything had been a plan, a plan to hurt Sandor, pretending to love him while mocking him behind his back.
She pressed her face into her pillow as more tears fell from her eyes at her thoughts.
How could Sandor believe it? How could he possibly think she had no feelings for him? That she had loved Joffrey from the start?
He had seen the fear grip her like the cold clutch of death When Joffey was near her. Sandor had saved her time and time again – how could he possibly believe it?
But the letter held secrets only she would know; details he had told her, shared with her. She couldn't understand it – it was like a demon ghost had haunted her and whipped up this cruel trick.
A soft knock sounded at her door and she heard Shae's alarmed voice.
Sansa sobbed in the arms of her hand maiden, comforted at last by her accented voice, sweet smell and soft caress on her hair.
She told Shae all that had happened, clutching to her and staining her dress with her tears. After, Shae helped her into her bed, Sansa's body limp with exhaustion from crying all night and morning. Her wrists were red from Sandor's harsh strength but she had not the energy to cry. She stared at the red marks numbly while Shae wiped her face with a cool, wet cloth.
When Shae left her, murmering something Sansa did not hear, she lay there still.
When sleep eventually claimed her, her dreams were filled with rage, grey eyes, a lion with sharp, piercing claws. She twisted and turned but no one came to save her.
Not this time.
V
Joffrey
The horse was a good one; it rode hard and fast, powering through the snow like there was nothing there.
Joffrey grinned, the letter would have reached them by now. How delightful.
He dearly wished he could have been there to see Sandor's reaction. It was all too good, too perfect.
And soon, yes, very soon, he would have his prize.
He tore them apart slowly and painfully, until all was lost for them both.
The he would make it so much worse.
He was almost there.
V