Wilting ♞ Sandor Clegane

ғιve

WORD COMES FROM the Wall —the First Ranger is riding south to Winterfell, having left Castle Black a fortnight ago. The news comes only hours after the raven from Kings Landing arrived. Robert Baratheon is traveling north. Their traveling party passed the Twins three days prior, bringing his entire household with him. Anya looks over the rolling hills to the Wolfswood, thinking of all the reasons Robert is going through the trouble of coming to Winterfell. She doesn't enjoy entertaining any of the reasons which come to mind, especially in the wake of Jon Arryn's unexpected death.

Eddard Stark finds his sister and passes off the scroll from the Night's Watch detailing their brother's arrival. The dreary thoughts fade in an instant. Benjen will be arriving soon, either in the night or the next morning. Anya doesn't dare take her attention from the horizon for the rest of the day. On the following morn, anticipation bubbles in her belly, especially when she sees a group of riders clad in black and heavy furs riding fast and hard over the hill on the Kingsroad.

The gates of the castle creak and groan when the sentries heave the great wooden doors open to welcome the riders into the courtyard. Anya darts from the ramparts, nigh tripping over the hem of her dress and cloak.

Benjen slides down from his saddle and passes his chestnut mare off to a stable hand, glancing around the open yard. A sweet voice cries his name —the only warning before Anya throws herself into his arms. His dark and heavy cloak engulfs her when he returns the embrace. Benjen Stark does not regret his choice —he'd taken nameless brothers in place of Ned, but he's never been able to give Anya up. His icy lips brush against her forehead, a feather's touch, but she can tell he is smiling when he breathes her name in a rough whisper.

They part, both smiling —it is always good to be reunited, for however short a time it may be. Anya steps back and appraises her brother's appearance. Black has always been the color that suited him best. He looks well, though there is a new scar on his cheek. "I've missed you, brother," Anya says, voice cracking. Benjen is quick to take her back into his arms —the summer scent of lilacs in her honey curls tickles his nose. "We should find Ned," she tells him.

"Ready for the royal party?" Benjen asks.

Anya frowns at the reminder that within the coming days the King and Queen would be in Winterfell. "No," she says, shaking her head. "This place has been driving me mad since the raven arrived. Think I'd rather be on the damned Wall."

Benjen laughs, shaking his head. "We'll speak later," he promises, clasping her shoulder, "I'll go find Ned." Anya nods and heads back toward the Great Hall —she is to help Catelyn make the final arrangements for King Robert's visit. She stops at the corner of the courtyard where the boys are practicing, though.

Robb and Theon swing blunted blades at each other, the sound of the dull steel echoing in the crisp morning air. Bran holds a bow in hand, practicing with Jon's patient tutelage. She smiles at it all and remembers the first time Benjen pressed a bow into her hands, the first time Brandon let her train with a sword instead of a wooden stick.

Robb deflects a blow from Theon and drives his sword into the ground, wiping the sweat from his brow. They are each fine fighters, but there is still room for improvement —especially should there ever be a need to fight in a real battle. "Go a round with us?" Theon asks.

Her fingers itch to have a sword in hand if only to knock the boastful smile from Theon's face. An attitude such as that would only hasten the grave. Jon looks up and meets his aunt's pale gaze with a smile and soft laugh —he knows what that look means. None of them have been able to best Anya in a fight yet. Today wouldn't be any different. "Not today, boys," she tells them. Helping them train will have to wait for another day. "I think you all have a list of duties to prepare for the royal family's visit, too, do you not?" It's true, and they've all neglected them up till now, but the way her steel eyes cut through them is enough to silence any protest.