"I don't know," Sansa says. It appears to be the only thing she can say and she feels for all the world like the little bird that the Hound used to accuse her of being. She shrugs one shoulder, causing the toga to slip down further than what she was comfortable with. She hates this garment.

"They held me captive in the capital for a long time but I got away. I've been at the Eyrie for a while now but I just rode north again, to Winterfell. It's not a place I would guess you know, is it? I don't know Narnia."

She presses her lips together. "I'm Sansa, of House Stark. I'm to be married again to Lord Bolton but Winterfell is my home. It's my castle. I should technically be a queen, your Grace."