She could still hear Sansa screaming. Ser Ilyn drew a two-handed greatsword from the scabbard on his back. As he lifted the blade above his head, sunlight seemed to ripple and dance down the dark metal, glinting off an edge sharper than any razor. Ice, she thought, he has Ice! Her tears streamed down her face, blinding her. (…) Dimly, as if from far away, she heard a… a noise… a soft sighing sound, as if a million people had let out their breath at once.
“They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They’ve never seen a battle, they’ve never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her father’s head off.”
Gods be good, why would any man want to be king? When everyone was shouting King in the North, King in the North, I told myself… swore to myself… that I would be a good king, as honorable as Father, strong, just, loyal to my friends and brave when I faced my enemies… now I can’t even tell one from the other. How did it all get so confused?
She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still… with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet to see him once again..