Остановитесь! Папа! Стойте! Нет! НЕТ!

Я помолюсь за ваше успешное возвращение, Мой Лорд. Как и за Короля.

Худшие всегда выживают.

Или, может, он принесёт мне Вашу.

I am Sansa Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter and Lady Catelyn’s, the blood of Winterfell. She turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell, the taste of innocence, the taste of dreams.