That was when she realized she was naked. She crouched down, trying to cover herself with her hands, as her door began to swing open, creaking, the point of the greatsword poking through...
She woke murmuring, "Please, please, I'll be good, I'll be good, please don't," but there was no one to hear.
When they finally came for her in truth, Sansa never heard their footsteps. It was Joffrey who opened her door, not Sir Ilyn but the boy who had been her prince. She was in bed, curled up tight, her curtains drawn, and she could not have said if it was noon or midnight. The first thing she heard was the slam of the door. Then her bed hangings were yanked back, and she threw up a hand against the sudden light and saw them standing over her.
You will attend me in court this afternoon, Joffrey said. "See that you bathe and dress as befits my betrothed." Sandor Clegane stood at his shoulder in a plain brown doublet and green mantle, his burned face hideous in the morning light. Behind them were two knights of the Kingsguard in long white satin cloaks.
Sansa drew her blanket up to her chin to cover herself. "No," she whimpered, "please... leave me be."