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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Oh
,
so
poignant
,
"
said
Varys
.
"
And
yet
,
it
is
truly
said
that
blood
runs
truer
than
oaths
.
"
"
She
reminds
me
of
the
mother
,
not
the
father
,
"
Lord
Petyr
Baelish
said
quietly
.
"
Look
at
her
.
The
hair
,
the
eyes
.
She
is
the
very
image
of
Cat
at
the
same
age
.
"
The
queen
looked
at
her
,
troubled
,
and
yet
Sansa
could
see
kindness
in
her
clear
green
eyes
.
"
Child
,
"
she
said
,
"
if
I
could
truly
believe
that
you
were
not
like
your
father
,
why
nothing
should
please
me
more
than
to
see
you
wed
to
my
Joffrey
.
I
know
he
loves
you
with
all
his
heart
.
"
She
sighed
.
"
And
yet
,
I
fear
that
Lord
Varys
and
the
Grand
Maester
have
the
right
of
it
.
The
blood
will
tell
.
I
have
only
to
remember
how
your
sister
set
her
wolf
on
my
son
.
"
"
I
'm
not
like
Arya
,
"
Sansa
blurted
.
"
She
has
the
traitor
's
blood
,
not
me
.
I
'm
good
,
ask
Septa
Mordane
,
she
'll
tell
you
,
I
only
want
to
be
Joffrey
's
loyal
and
loving
wife
.
"
She
felt
the
weight
of
Cersei
's
eyes
as
the
queen
studied
her
face
.
"
I
believe
you
mean
it
,
child
.
"
She
turned
to
face
the
others
.
"
My
lords
,
it
seems
to
me
that
if
the
rest
of
her
kin
were
to
remain
loyal
in
this
terrible
time
,
that
would
go
a
long
way
toward
laying
our
fears
to
rest
.
"
Grand
Maester
Pycelle
stroked
his
huge
soft
beard
,
his
wide
brow
furrowed
in
thought
.
"
Lord
Eddard
has
three
sons
.
"
"
Mere
boys
,
"
Lord
Petyr
said
with
a
shrug
.
"
I
should
be
more
concerned
with
Lady
Catelyn
and
the
Tullys
.
"
The
queen
took
Sansa
's
hand
in
both
of
hers
.
"
Child
,
do
you
know
your
letters
?
"
Sansa
nodded
nervously
.
She
could
read
and
write
better
than
any
of
her
brothers
,
although
she
was
hopeless
at
sums
.
