Chapter Text
Sandor woke to the sound of bare feet slamming across the floor outside his room- his hangover making every sound reverberate in his skull.
“Oh my god... you’re awake! The Hound has arisen, my friends won’t actually believe I slept with you I-“ The woman kept talking, but all he could feel was pain, and confusion. Sandor must have been so drunk after his performance last night, he couldn’t remember bringing this girl back to his hotel room.
“Could you please just shhh....” he motioned to his lips, praying whoever this girl was that she would shut up. The sun filtered in to burn his eyes as he looked at the girl in front of him.
To smiley.
To blonde.
To...
Not her.
Every girl he had been with since... that day, Sandor would compare to his first love.
And if he was being completely honest with himself- only love. And none of them could hold a candle to that girl. Not even close.
“Oh of course Hound, I’ll be quiet...” she stopped her incessant blabbering for all of ten seconds before she started up again, “but if you want a round two I would definitely be down for that!”
Her attempt at a seductive purr only made Sandor wonder what he had been thinking inviting this girl back with him.
“Look, this has been great M...”
Her name started with an M... That much he knew- Maggie? Meg? Milly?
“It’s Melissa.” She scoffed at him, obviously pissed he did t know her name.
“Melissa, I had a great time, but I got a lot of work to do so if you could... Y’know, leave that would be even better.” He knew he was being an asshole, but this happened every time he brought some random girl back- he would wake up and regret the night before.
“Ummm okay. Should I give you my number? Or...”
Sandor slowly got up and pulled a pair of sweats over his hips before guiding her by her back to the door, “Yknow, I think maybe not.”
The girl stopped right before she was at the door with a scoff, “Are you kidding me? Just like that?”
Sandor nodded his head getting ready for the inevitable insults that would be flung in his direction- about how he was a dick, freak, how his music couldn’t make up for his scarred up face. No matter how much reconstructive surgery he had, back when he was a kid- and again when he got famous, people always tried to use his scars against him.
They said it all every time he escorted him out of his hotel, but the door would still come slamming shut.
And that’s how it ended for this girl, Melissa or whatever- with a door slamming shut in her face. But at least he finally had some peace and quiet.
Or at least he had some for a few minutes, when his phone started ringing- his manager Davos trying to get ahold of him.
“Hey kid, good your finally up. We’re finally on the back end of our tour, only the Riverlands left, yeah?”
Sandor nodded along, barely listening and turning on the tv while his manager drones on. He had muted to the tv and closed his eyes trying to get a little extra sleep, when someone knocked on his door. Assuming it was room service, Sandor chose to ignore it- but something caught his eye on the muted tv.
A photo of a man, he had one known.
Sandor scrambled for the remote, fully ignoring Davos at this point- and finally turned the sound back on.
Theon Greyjoy, an aspiring young politician, was killed in a mugging that is still currently being investigated. We have not confirmed the story yet, but it is believed Mr Greyjoy had been in Winter Town, a city not far from his home town, for his newly formed charity- one that hoped to help foster kids across the country. He is survived by....
Sandor couldn’t hear anymore- the image of the little kid chasing behind him and Robb, fresh in his mind. Theon and Bronn has been his foster brothers, a pack of unwanted outcasts that were taken in by the local preacher. Elder Brother was what they called him- but he had been Dad to Sandor. Or at least he had been- who knows what his Dad thought of him after not hearing from Sandor after all these years.
And now his brother was gone.
Gone. And all Sandor could think about was his home town, what everyone must be going through. The small town of Winterfell was a close, tight knit group- a group he had been a part of- a giant family.
But Sandor had left them all behind. Had left her behind- his Sansa. Had left her on their wedding day, he had been 24 and she had been 20. And instead of thinking about how much he loved his childhood sweetheart, Sandor only thought about himself.
A selfish asshole.
Only thought about his own career- about how much Sansa wanted to be a real family, and it scared Sandor. So much so he ran away to Kings Landing after getting a call from Tywin Lannister with an opportunity to further his music career.
“Sandor! Sandor? Are you there? I’ve been taking and you just don’t listen- you never listen! This is serious shit, you can’t just keep fucking up your life- I care about you, man. And this isn’t healthy-“ Sandor cut him off, barely hearing what the old man had been taking about.
“My.... my- my brother...” He couldn’t finish, couldn’t say it out loud- because then it would be real.
“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother! What are you talking about-“
“My foster brother, he just.... he’s gone. He’s dead. I can’t-“
There was a giant pause, both men quiet for a long time- both thinking about what to say. “Oh Sandor.... man, I’m sorry. If you need time- take it. I’ll deal with Lannister. You need to take of yourself, man.”
Sandor couldn’t agree more, before grabbing a bottle of Jack and nothing more than the clothes on his back, then asking his driver to take take him home.
He was going back to Winterfell, no matter how much he knew they didn’t want him.
Sandor was going home.