“Jaime had decided that he would return Sansa, and the younger girl as well if she could be found. It was not like to win him back his honor, but the notion of keeping faith when they all expected betrayal amused him more than he could say.”

“Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps.When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire. The sky outside was darker by then, with only a few pale green ghosts dancing against the stars. A chill wind was blowing, banging the shutters. Sansa was cold. She shook out the torn cloak and huddled beneath it on the floor, shivering.”

“I was with her when she died,” Ned reminded the king. “She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father.” He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister’s eyes. Ned remembered the way she smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his.”

“She could not bear to look at him just now. If she did, she might well slap him again. Or cry. Or kiss him. And never know which was right and which was wrong and which was madness.”

“He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; no sellsword would make him scream.Sunlight ran silver along the edge of the arakh as it came shivering down, almost too fast to see. And Jaime screamed.”

“I'm named Bella," the girl told Gendry. "For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?""No," he said gruffly."I bet you do." She ran a hand along his arm. "I don't cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lighting lord.""No, I said." Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night.Bella turn to Arya. "Don't he like girls?"Arya shrugged. "He's just stupid. He likes to polish helmets and beat on swords with hammers.”

“An old man sat down beside her. "Well, aren't you a pretty little peach?" His breath smelled near as foul as the dead men in the cages, and his little pig eyes were crawling up and down her. "Does my sweet peach have a name?"For half a heartbeat she forgot who she was supposed to be. She wasn't any peach, but she couldn't be Arya Stark either, not here with some smelly drunk she did not know. "I'm . . .""She's my sister." Gendry put a heavy hand on the old man's shoulder, and squeezed. "Leave her be."The man turned, spoiling for a quarrel, but when he saw Gendry's size he thought better of it. "You sister, is she? What kind of brother are you? I'd never bring no sister of mine to the Peach, that I wouldn't." He got up from the bench and moved off muttering, in search of a new friend."Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet, "You're not my brother.""That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I mean it.""Yes it is." He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her.""But . . .""I said, go away. M'lady."Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.”