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A Lady's Honor

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"Don't you want to ask who's winning the battle, little bird?"

At first, she had been frightened. But then she remembered the Hound calling her stupid. Saying she was a bad liar. Now he was assuming he knew what she wanted and calling her little. She wasn't little; she was twelve.

"No," she said.

He laughed. "I lost it."

"I'm glad," with anger.

"Are you? The little bird hides her talons well."

"I'm not a little bird. I am a wolf."

"All right, little wolf."

Damn him, she thought, surprised at the own wickedness. "Why did you come here?"

"You promised me a song. Have you forgotten?"

She hadn't forgotten. But she couldn't sing for him now, not with the battle raging outside and her own dislike of him raging inside her. "No."

"No, she says. I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them."

"I don't want your protection!" Sansa shouted. "You mock everything I say and so, and when I try to get you to stop, you only mock me more. I'd rather be killed than have you save me. And I will not sing for you."

He took out his dagger and poised it at her throat. "Sing for me."

She felt him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat. She was scared, but her anger outweighed her fear. "You called me stupid. I won't sing for you."

They stood there for what seemed to Sansa like an hour. The Hound holding his weapon to her skin, her staring at him defiantly. She had never felt more brave. When will he give up? she thought. Several more minutes passed before he lowered his arm and left the room.

He forgot his cloak. She burned it.