Chapter Text
Sansa screamed.
The pain was just too much; ripping though her like hot knives, over and over again. She tried to form words, apologise, plead: but she couldn't. There was nothing left in her anymore. Nothing, only pain.
***
Joffrey's eyes gleamed with malice and enjoyment, his fat wormy lips curled into a smile. Disgusted, Sandor turned his head and studied the cracks in the wall, anything to avoid the spectacle in front of him.
"Again!", he heard Joff shout, "Ser Boros, I don't think she's learned her lesson yet!"
Sandor noticed that one of the cracks looked a bit like a tree; yes, just like a little tree, as he heard the sickening crunch of a mailed fist against flesh and bones.
***
There was a brief respite, and Sansa could hear people muttering, talking with muffled, distant voices as if they were far away. She could see them close by though, hazy shapes in the gloom. It was too hard to focus her eyes, so she didn't even try.
Sansa knew that the pain would come again, but when it hit her, she cursed herself for being so unprepared. She fell on her knees and doubled over, screaming, wailing, ashamed of the noises she was making. She gathered up all the strength she had left to form some words. "I can't... I can't do this anymore," she whispered. "Please. I just... I want to go home. Please. Make it stop..." her voice trailed away.
Sansa started to shake violently, then turned to the side and retched.
***
Joffrey's shrill laughter made his ears ring. "So she pleads for mercy, the little bitch? Begs for her life?", the boy king mocked.
Sandor's face was still, unmoving; his eyes firmly fixed on the wall, avoiding the bloody mess of a girl on the floor.
"Well, I'm not convinced, I'm not! Ser Meryn, see to it that she begs some more!"
From the corner of his eyes, Sandor saw Joffrey absentmindedly stroking the shaft of his crossbow in an almost indecent manner; hate and arousal in equal measure on his comely features. He felt an urge to strangle the little shit; to put him at the receiving end of the beatings he loved so much.
No, Sandor thought; I mustn't. I can't. What's she to me, anyway? I cannot risk it, not now. Best be a good dog and let your master play with his toy.