Sansa

           TheycameforSansaonthethirdday.

           Shechoseasimpledressofdarkgreywool,plainlycutbutrichlyembroideredaroundthecollarandsleeves.Herfingersfeltthickandclumsyasshestruggledwiththesilverfasteningswithoutthebenefitofservants.JeynePoolehadbeenconfinedwithher,butJeynewasuseless.Herfacewaspuffyfromallhercrying,andshecouldnotseemtostopsobbingaboutherfather.

           "I’mcertainyourfatheriswell,"Sansatoldherwhenshehadfinallygottenthedressbuttonedright."I’llaskthequeentoletyouseehim."ShethoughtthatkindnessmightliftJeyne’sspirits,buttheothergirljustlookedatherwithred,swolleneyesandbegantocryalltheharder.Shewassuchachild.

           Sansahadwepttoo,thefirstday.EvenwithinthestoutwallsofMaegor’sHoldfast,withherdoorclosedandbarred,itwashardnottobeterrifiedwhenthekillingbegan.Shehadgrownuptothesoundofsteelintheyard,andscarcelyadayofherlifehadpassedwithouthearingtheclashofswordonsword,yetsomehowknowingthatthefightingwasrealmadeallthedifferenceintheworld.Shehearditasshehadneverhearditbefore,andtherewereothersoundsaswell,gruntsofpain,angrycurses,shoutsforhelp,andthemoansofwoundedanddyingmen.Inthesongs,theknightsneverscreamednorbeggedformercy.

           Soshewept,pleadingthroughherdoorforthemtotellherwhatwashappening,callingforherfather,forSeptaMordane,fortheking,forhergallantprince.

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