These days, the sea is safer than the kingsroad. You will sail as soon as I can find a proper ship, with SeptaMordane and a complement of guards...and yes, with Syrio Forel, if he agrees to enter my service. But say nothing of this. It's better if no one knows of our plans. We'll talk again tomorrow."
Sansa cried as Septa Mordane marched them down the steps. They were going to take it all away; the tournamentsand the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.
"Stop that weeping, child," Septa Mordane said sternly. "I am certain your lord father knows what is best for you."
It won't be so bad, Sansa, Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we'll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest." She touched her on the arm.
Hodor! Sansa yelled. "You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" She wrenchedaway from her sister's hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her.