Gendry is brought in

Cersei began to circle around where Arya was staked. “I remember, all those years ago on the Kingsroad, that you did not attack Joffrey until he threatened one of your friends. Is that it? Is that the way to draw you out of your shell?”

“Everyone has this same weakness: the ones they love.”

Sansa began to have a terrible feeling that she knew why she had been brought here.

“Bring in the prisoner.”

A hidden door groaned open from behind Joffrey and Arya, as two black-masked goalers dragged in a muscled man wearing only a loincloth. His hair was cut short, his body sweaty and covered in a thin layer of soot, but Sansa would have recognised Gendry anywhere.

There was an empty wooden cross facing Arya and now the Baratheon was being tied up with a sullen silence as Taena Merryweather forced his legs apart and whipped off his loincloth to expose his generous manhood.

Looking between the two X-shaped contraptions, Sansa almost felt sick when she realised how similar Arya and Gendry’s predicaments looked to the Bolton sigil.