This one is your father, he said. "This one here. Dog, turn it around so she can see him."
Sandor Clegane took the head by the hair and turned it. The severed head had been dipped in tar to preserve it longer. Sansa looked at it calmly, not seeing it at all. It did not really look like Lord Eddard, she thought; it did not even look real. "How long do I have to look?"
Joffrey seemed disappointed. "Do you want to see the rest?" There was a long row of them.
If it please Your Grace.
Joffrey marched her down the wallwalk, past a dozen more heads and two empty spikes. "I'm saving those for my uncle Stannis and my uncle Renly," he explained. The other heads had been dead and mounted much longer than her father. Despite the tar, most were long past being recognizable. The king pointed to one and said, "That's your septa there," but Sansa could not even have told that it was a woman. The jaw had rotted off her face, and birds had eaten one ear and most of a cheek.
Sansa had wondered what had happened to Septa Mordane, although she supposed she had known all along. "Why did you kill her?" she asked. "She was godsworn... "