Chapter Text
Spring
Sandor looked up at the ceiling as if he could see through the mortar, the stones, the wooden beams. Above him was his bedroom where he knew Sansa would be. His mouth twitched and his hand crumpled the message that had come from the Rock.
Fuck, why did the Lions have to call him now, of all times? How could he leave his wife behind? Even if it wasn't far to the Lannisters, he didn't want to be gone. Besides, you never knew with the golden-haired bigwigs were up to, if they didn't send you even further away. One only had to listen to the rumours about Aegon Targaryen's movements to assume that the Crown would want to reactivate the Hound rather sooner than later.
Sandor cursed under his breath. Sure it would be nice to see Brienne and little Selwyn again, and perhaps it would even be acceptable to share some Arbor gold with the Kingslayer at the “Seashell” in Lannisport, but Sandor knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself.
Behind him, the door opened with a little squeak.
“Father?”
Sandor turned around and looked at his daughter Sondra-Jayne. The girl had just celebrated her fourth nameday and was already very mature – and Clegane-sized – for her age.
“Yes, nestling, what is it?”
“Ayella has baked lemon cakes. Do you want one? Can I bring mother one?”
“Lemon cakes? How's that possible?”
“Ayella says they're the first spring lemons from D... D...”
“Dorne?”
The little girl clapped her hands and nodded.
“Yes, yes, Dorne!”
Sandor suppressed a sigh.
“All right, nestling, bring me two cakes. One for me and one for your mother. I'll give her the treat myself.”
His daughter wrinkled her brow.
“Is mother sad again?”
Sandor looked out of the window. Sansa was depressed all the time these days. He himself felt raw on the inside, too, and he couldn't even fathom what the recent miscarriage meant for his wife.
Sondra-Jeyne read his expression correctly.
In a subdued voice, she asked: “Can I bring Eddor a lemon cake then?”
“If you want to – and if you can lure him into taking one. Is he with Cembara?”
His daughter nodded once more. Well, it wasn't a surprise. Cembara, the healer, had set up a room in Clegane Keep where she kept her herbs, glass bottles with medicines and potions, salves, crucibles and certain other tools she needed for her profession. Under normal circumstances, Sandor wouldn't have let his two-year-old son stay where he could reach and swallow something poisonous – but Sansa was in such a deplorable condition that she didn't take care of the child at the moment. Moreover, Eddor wasn't like other boys, which meant that chances were small he'd do something to himself by accident. And finally, Cembara was always having an eye to the child.
Sandor's thoughts returned to his daughter. He knelt and embraced her. In contrast to Eddor, Sondra-Jeyne always wanted to be hugged. True enough, she gave him a hearty kiss on the cheek and didn't care one whit that it was his burned one. Next, she dashed out to fetch the lemon cakes.
His daughter caused him to smile, though the merryment didn't reach his eyes.
He thought: “Her favourite treat would do Sansa good. If we don't pay attention her old eating disorder might break through again. I can't let that happen. Fuck, and the Lions want me at the Rock! They can all bugger their arses with a hot poker.”
Some moments later, Sondra-Jeyne was back and pressed two lemon cakes into his paws with her pudgy fingers. There were telltale crumbs in the corners of her mouth, which caused Sandor to smile in earnest and to wipe her lips.
“Ayella is spoiling you, nestling. I'll have a word with the woman.”
“Please, father, don't be angry,” his daughter begged, afraid he might punish the old cook.
“Do I look angry? Like an angry hound?” he asked.
“No. But can you make the 'doggy dad'?”
Sandor screwed up his eyes.
“Not again!”
“Oh yes, oh yes, please!”
So Sandor bent forward, looked into his daughter's eyes and barked: “Woooof! Woooof!”
Sondra-Jeyne squealed in delight, gave him another kiss and left, surely to secure a second lemon cake for herself and one for Eddor.
Sandor's gaze lingered on the door for another moment, then his look wandered to the wrinkled paper ball that had fallen to the ground while he had been dealing with his girl.
“Fuck! Fuck them all!” he growled, wolfed down his cake and made for his bedroom with the second one to meet Sansa.