She nearly laughs as she brings the fifth pigeon down, her arrow stuck through its eye, the explosion of blood bright against the bleak London sky.  She doesn't know how she feels about calling it London anymore.  It doesn't feel the same; it's a London besieged, a London at war.

The war is going badly.
( your face and hands are smeared with blood )

When it is all said and done, and wild Rickon has sunk his teeth into the throats of all the enemies of his blonde, one-eared lion bride, gathering a tenuous, nervous peace around the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa Stark washes Alayne Stone from her auburn hair and Petyr Baelish's screams from the inside of her skull.  When she rides for Winterfell the next ( Read more... )