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Go away!
Arya, open the door.
May I come in?
- Whose sword is that? - Mine.
Give it to me.
I know this maker's mark. This is Mikken's work.
Where did you get this?
This is no toy.
Little ladies shouldn't play with swords.
I wasn't playing.
And I don't want to be a lady.
Come here.
Now what do you want with this?
It's called Needle.
Oh, a blade with a name.
And who were you hoping to skewer with Needle?
Your sister?
Do you know the first thing about sword fighting?
Stick 'em with the pointy end.
That's the essence of it.
I was trying to learn.
I asked Mycah to practice with me.
I asked him.
- It was my fault. - No, sweet girl.
No no, you didn't kill the butcher's boy.
I hate them! I hate all of them.
The Hound, the Queen and the King
and Joffrey and Sansa.
Sansa was dragged before the King and Queen
And asked to call the Prince a liar.
So was I! He is a liar.
Shh, darling, listen to me.
Sansa will be married to Joffrey's someday.
She cannot betray him.
She must take his side even when he's wrong.
But how you can let her marry someone like that?
Well.
Look me.
You're a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words.
Winter is coming.
You were born in the long summer.
You've never known anything else.
But now winter is truly coming.
And in the winter, we must protect ourselves,
look after one another. Sansa is your sister.
I don't hate her.
Not really.
I don't want to frighten you,
but I won't lie to you either.
We've come to a dangerous place.
We cannot fight a war amongst ourselves.
All right?
Go on. It's yours.
I can keep it?
Try not to stab your sister with it.
If you're going to own a sword,
you'd better know how to use it.