Family. He probably didn't know how much that stung. Sansa bit her lip hard, shaking her head. "I won't, sir. I don't have any family left." Father had been beheaded, Mother's throat slit, Robb run through at the wedding. Bran and Rickon had been burned at Winterfell, Jon had never been real family anyway and now he was at the Wall, Theon had turned traitor, and the gods only knew what had happened to Arya. Even Lady was dead.

That thought made her lip twist up a little, in something that might almost have been a smile. "I used to have a wolf," she told him. "From a pup. If I still had her, I don't think the Arena would be half as scary." If I still had her, she'd have torn Joffrey's throat out when he hurt me. Maybe we could have run, then, like Arya did. Maybe we could have stopped them killing Father. There was no point dwelling on if. "But I know how to run, and I... I know how to use a knife a little, although mostly for embroidery and that kind of thing."