Sansa hugged herself, suddenly cold. "Why are you always so hateful? I was thanking you . . ."

"Just as if I was one of those true knights you love so well, yes. What do you think a knight is for, girl? You think it's all taking favors from ladies and looking fine in gold plate? Knights are for killing." He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel. "I killed my first man at twelve. I've lost count of how many I've killed since then. High lords with old names, fat rich men dressed in velvet, knights puffed up like bladders with their honors, yes, and women and children too—they're all meat, and I'm the butcher. Let them have their lands and their gods and their gold. Let them have their sers." Sandor Clegane spat at her feet to show what he thought of that. "So long as I have this," he said, lifting the sword from her throat, "there's no man on earth I need fear."

Except your brother, Sansa thought, but she had better sense than to say it aloud.

She sighed with relief when he removed the blade, wanting nothing more than to flee. Still, this will not do. He is a dog, just as he says; a half-wild, mean-tempered dog that bites any hand that tries to pet him, but will savage any man who tries to hurt his masters. And yet he saved her. And the proper lady should always remember her courtesies.

'How do you want me to thank you then?' she asked.

He looked at her, his burned face unreadable.

'You don't let me to call you brave.' she continued. 'And you don't like to be compared to knights. What should I do to express my gratitude?'

He made a strange noise, something in between a snort and a sigh.

'What little birds are supposed to do.' He said at last, his voice even harsher than usual. 'Sing me a song. Like you promised'.

So she sang to him. Like she promised, she sang him about Florian and Jonquil. He first listened standing next to her. But the song was long, and at some point he squatted silently before her, like he did long time ago, when he told her the story of his burns after the tourney king Robert Baratheon threw in honour of her father.

She was grateful he had his back to the moon and she couldn't really make up his face in the dark. Only the faint gleam of stray light reflected in his eyes.

She also realized that she was taller than she was at the time of tourney. His face wasn't on the same level with hers now. It felt weird to stand taller than Sandor Clegane.

Caught in memories of happier times, she put her hand on his shoulder, still singing. The song just got to her favorite part, when Florian discovers that Jonquil loves him despite the fact he's homely and poor, and they kiss for the first time. Sansa's voice always trembled with emotions when the song described how the fool took his beloved in his arms and spoke the words of love and devotion.

The Hound caught her completely by surprise when he suddenly yanked her closer and kissed her fully in the mouth, silencing her.

She gasped. At least she tried to, but the air stuck in her throat, never getting to the lungs. She felt his hands around her body, his ruined mouth on her lips, his smell all around her - wine and horse and leather. She stood overwhelmed, scared and uncomprehending. He wasn't supposed to do that! She was Prince Joffrey's betrothed, and he was his sworn shield.

And then, just like that, he let her go.

She backed away and extended her hand blindly, grabbing a merlon for support. Then she just stood there, unable to move, catching her breath.

'You didn't like it, did you?' he said bitterly. 'No more than you like my face.'

She hesitated. Now that he had let go off her and she could think again she realized it wasn't that bad. Not the kiss, the feeling of his big hands wrapped around her. They were gentle and strong, like her father's. They encircled her and she felt safe.

He stood up.

'Are you going to finish that damn song or what?' he demanded angrily, turning away from her towards the black water glimmering under the crescent moon.

Voice shaking, she resumed her singing. This time he listened without ever looking at her, his eyes on the distant fires across the river.

When the kissing was brought up anew in the refrain she stole a glance at the Hound, as if expecting him to reach out for her again. She felt oddly disappointed when he didn't.

The song ended. Brooding silence descended upon them, dark as a night.

'Did I thank you properly now?' she asked when she could bear it no longer.

'Yes.' Sandor Clegane answered. 'I believe you did.'