This is my favorite Sansa Stark tho
“Septa, will Lord Beric spike Ser Gregor’s head on his own gate or bring it back here for the king?” She and Jeyne Poole had been arguing over that last night.
Lord Janos had been no more than commander of the City Watch before Joffrey had raised him to Harrenhal and the council. I hope [Morros Slynt] falls and shames himself, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him.
When she heard that the Imp had sent Lord Slynt to the Wall, she had forgotten herself and said, “I hope the Others get him.” The king had not been pleased.
Sansa watched the girl suspiciously. Had she seen the note? Had she put it under the pillow? It did not seem likely; she seemed a stupid girl, not one you’d want delivering secret notes, but Sansa did not know her.
No it won’t, you stupid man, Sansa thought, but she drank the dreamwine anyway, and slept.
“Let him.” When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she’d thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. “I want it burned.”
He had never sounded more like a stupid little boy. Sansa touched her lips to the metal, thinking that she would kiss any number of swords sooner than Joffrey.
But when the septon climbed on high and called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and noble king, Sansa got to her feet. The aisles were jammed with people. She had to shoulder through while the septon called upon the Smith to lend strength to Joffrey’s sword and shield, the Warrior to give him courage, the Father to defend him in his need. Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him.
“It’s very lovely,” Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair.
“The damned thing’s as tall as I am,” Tyrion muttered in a low voice. “Half a chalice and Joff will be falling down drunk.”
Good, she thought. Perhaps he’ll break his neck.
They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they’d raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face.
Around the walls the hosts of Lords Declarant were stirring, emerging from their tents like ants from an anthill. If only they were truly ants, she thought, we could step on them and crush them.
I’d like to give you a hundred spankings and five slaps. You would not dare behave like this if Petyr were here. The little lord had a good healthy fear of his stepfather. Alayne forced a smile.
“Kind?” The older girl gave a laugh. “How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?”
“If you wish, my lady.” But you’ll get no secrets from me.
She turned to Mya Stone. “You almost fell.”
“You’re mistaken. I never fall.” Mya’s hair had tumbled across her cheek, hiding one eye.
“Almost, I said. I saw you. Weren’t you afraid?”
“I would do the same if she were my daughter,” said the last knight, a short, wiry man with a wry smile, pointed nose, and bristly orange hair. “Particularly around louts like us.”
Alayne laughed. “Are you louts?” she said, teasing. “Why, I took the three of you for gallant knights.”
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