As they passed a crowded market, the singer suggested, "It's a Lorathi custom for guests not to arrive empty-handed."
"I'm no expert on manners, boy, here or elsewhere, but I've no problem buying the girl a gift."
"Good idea!" The singer made it sound as if it was the Hound's own thought. "Flowers?" He suggested.
"No."
They found a jewelry broker's stall, and the singer appeared surprised. All the pieces looked delicate in the Hound's huge hands. He found a gold locket with an image of the Mother adorning the front cover, and selected a gold necklace to match. He opened his pack of pilfered jewels to the broker, and the broker selected six pieces of jewelry he'd accept in trade for his wares. The Hound selected an inlaid wooden box lined with blue silk in which to present the piece, and, making no attempt to negotiate the price, nodded. The broker nodded, and the wordless exchange was complete.
When the pair finally arrived at the seaside residence of the Fiery Mermaid, it was midafternoon.
The little singer had a brief exchange with the stable boy in Lorathi, and they headed toward the door of the narrow, three-story, white stone house. The Hound noticed that his travelling partner was beginning to behave in a nervous manner, and asked the boy, "You alright, boy? Or are you just excited to see your serving girl?"
"Yes!" A thought suddenly occurred to the young man. "Let's play a jape on her! You knock at the door, and I'll pop out from behind you and surprise her when she answers."
"You're a peculiar one." The Hound turned his back on the smaller man, wiped his sweaty hands on his new breeches, and let the knocker fall three times.
When the serving girl answered the door, she looked past the big man to the figure standing behind him. Opening the door wider, she curtsied and cooed, "M'lady's dear sister. You are very welcome here!"
Shocked, the Hound saw Arya Stark standing behind him in Wenton's clothes, grinning.
"Oh, M'lady will be so excited to see you again! She's at the Sept this hour, but she'll be returning at any moment. Has it been eight moons?" The serving girl continued speaking, not waiting for an answer. Arya ushered the man's large body into the entrance way. He was so lost in his thoughts that his feet followed automatically. "You and your companion must be tired and hungry from your travels. Let me fetch you a bath and something to eat. Your sister will want you to have every comfort. . . ." She kept speaking as she walked, not noticing that no one followed.
"You! How?" The Hound was frozen in the entrance way, a few steps from the door.
"Come, sit, and I'll explain." She began leading him
Just then, the door opened. A strapping, raven-haired young man silently held the heavy door open for Sansa. She looked up and saw the Hound standing in her own entrance way, and she collapsed.
For the moment that he saw her standing, the girl was more beautiful than ever. She looked healthier, taller, and her body had taken on the curves of a woman, rather than a blossoming girl. Her face was more graceful, and fair but not pale. How could I have ever left her?
Just as she went down, the young man caught her in his heavily muscled arms, and carried her inside. He said nothing to the travelers, just proceeded up the stairs to the Lady's chambers, with Arya on his heels, and the Hound limping up behind them all. He placed her silently and gently on the bed, and turned back toward the doorway. As the Hound entered the room, the younger man barred the door with his body, and the older man took a step backward.
"You've not been invited to enter my Lady's chambers, ser."
"I'm no ser. Move out of my way."
"Clearly not, but let me explain the way things are done around here, ser. I do not like dogs. Dogs are trouble. They sneak, uninvited, into beds at night. They lurk in dark hallways, waiting for attention. Their dirty mouths bear unwelcome kisses. I know all about you and your past habits. She may welcome you, but I am watching." His tone was icily threatening.
"Don't call me ser, boy. I know a bit about your habits, too. You think you're better than me? You're jealous of my sleeping in her bed because it's all you dreamed of while you slept on the floor outside her room. I'll admit I'm a dog. What of you? "
"I'll call you whatever pleases me, ser. You'll accept it until the Lady asks me to do otherwise, ser. And you'll head back down the stairs until you're invited further, ser."
The Hound's hand went for his sword pommel, and the young man's did the same.
"Stop!" Sansa's voice came weakly from the bed. "Let him pass!" The Hound pushed passed the guard, and knelt next to the young lady's bed, kissing her hand.
"You're alive!" Tears came running down her cheeks as she sat up and stepped off the bed onto the floor.
"Aye. I heard your song, and I came . . . ."
"What song?" Puzzled blue eyes stared into gray.
Both heads spun toward Arya, who looked guilty. "Oh, I may have stolen a few pages from your songbook when I was here last."
"Arya! What song is he speaking of?"
"The one about the stupid little bird and the stupider hound. Gods I can't believe I managed to sing it without laughing." She chuckled.
"You sang it? Aloud? In public? That was private! That book was never meant to be read. Or sung!"
The girl produced some wrinkled parchment pages from her tunic. "Here, then. Make sure you hide it better next time. Maybe on a taller shelf."
The Hound interrupted the arguing sisters, "Why am I here?" He sounded disappointed and confused.
"Oh, you're here to marry her." Arya gestured at Sansa.