"My name day will be here soon," Joffrey said as they slipped out the rear of the throne room. "There will be a great feast, and gifts. What are you going to give me?"
I... I had not thought, my lord.
Your Grace, he said sharply. "You truly are a stupid girl, aren't you? My mother says so."
She does? After all that had happened, his words should have lost their power to hurt her, yet somehow they had not. The queen had always been so kind to her.
Oh, yes. She worries about our children, whether they'll be stupid like you, but I told her not to trouble herself. The king gestured, and Sir Meryn opened a door for them.
Thank you, Your Grace, she murmured. The Hound was right, she thought, I am only a little bird, repeating the words they taught me. The sun had fallen below the western wall, and the stones of the Red Keep glowed dark as blood.
I'll get you with child as soon as you're able, Joffrey said as he escorted her across the practice yard. "If the first one is stupid, I'll chop off your head and find a smarter wife. When do you think you'll be able to have children?"
Sansa could not look at him, he shamed her so. "Septa Mordane says most... most highborn girls have their flowering at twelve or thirteen."