“She did not come to him, however. She has never come to me, he tough. She has always waited, letting me come to her. She gives, but I must ask.”

“She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon… but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.” She’d tell him, “I missed you,” and he’d say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.”

“She was no stranger to waiting, after all. Her man had always made her wait.”

“This is an evil dream, she thought. But if she were dreaming, why did it hurt so much?She tried to ask the shadows, but they did not answer. Perhaps they did not hear her. Perhaps they were not real.”

“You are in difficulty," she observed."He will not come," Kraznys said."There is a reason. A dragon is no slave.”

“My sister has mistaken me for a mushroom. She keeps me in the dark and feeds me shit.”

“Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters ... but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing.”