Wilting ♞ Sandor Clegane

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"I WISH YOU would not go out today," Ned says, his face a stern and solemn mask —he'd accepted Robert Baratheon's offer, unable to refuse his king. But preparations to venture south are not the reason he wishes Anya to remain within Winterfell's walls. Eddard Stark does not wish to leave Catelyn to the lions by her lonesome. She won't listen, and as usual, Benjen takes her side. Anya secures her cloak and slips on her riding gloves.

"Benjen and I are only going to hunt," she tells him, smiling sweetly —the spoils of their hunt could grace the next feast. "We'll be back in time to stuff our bellies, and I may even be polite to Robert if we manage to kill something." A good ride and hunt always serve as a welcomed distraction to calm her restless spirit.

Ned shakes his head, envying her at the moment for being able to slip away in light of their visitors. "Off with you then," he remarks, motioning toward the stables. Anya spares her brother a quick kiss on his wrinkled cheek and carries on her way, hauling Jory Cassel with her when their paths cross.

Jory helps her saddle Shadow —a great and unruly beast with a silver coat and black mane— and the horse whinnies until he gives up a sugar cube. Anya remembers when she bought the rambunctious colt from a farmer from Winter Town. A horse that refused to pull a plough was hardly worth anything at all to a poor farmer. Since then, Shadow's only ever taken to a few people, Jory being one of them. He brushes his hand down the horse's neck and then turns to help Anya, offering a boost when she reaches for the saddle horn and begins pulling herself up before passing her a yew bow and full quiver.

She smiles at him, then glances at Benjen —tightening one of the straps of his saddle. "Why don't you join us, Jory?" Anya asks. "Surely you don't have to mind my brother with the Kingsguard."

Jory's cheeks flush at the offer. Perhaps if it were not the first time Anya had seen her brother in a long while, he would have accepted, but going with her today feels too much like an unwanted intrusion. "Another time, my lady," he says, bowing his head and taking a step back. She sighs but nods and squeezes Shadow's sides, spurring the horse out of the stable yard and toward the main gate with Benjen following. 

They race to the Wolfswood —neck and neck until Benjen pulls back on the reins and allows his sister the victory. Her laugh is music, a sweet song cutting through the silence of the wood. The silver courser between her legs huffs with the exertion, as does Benjen's cinnamon mare, Willow. Leaves and twigs snap and crunch under the weight of their horses' hooves. The underbrush is thick, the canopy sparse, and looming overhead is a grey sky —the low clouds heavy with rain or snow. Benjen glances at Anya and sees the far-off look in her eyes. "What's plaguing your thoughts?"

Anya sighs, looking at her brother and then to the skies above. "If I cut my hair and bind my chest, do you think I could go with you and Jon?" Benjen chuckles, but there's no sign of jest in her words or expression. She means it, more than she had when he first told her of his decision to leave for the Night's Watch all those years ago.

Blackbirds scatter from their perches as they ride deeper into the trees. "You do not belong there, sister." She frowns, knowing it's the truth. They'd never let a woman join. Benjen looks ahead into a rocky glade. "One of these days," he starts, "a fine lord is going to come to sweep you away to his castle." Anya laughs, she doesn't believe it, and she knows Bejen doesn't either. She's almost nine-and-twenty, past the prime age for marriage, and they both know she will never bear children of her own. 

"I doubt it," she remarks. There are many reasons Anya Stark remains unwed and not for lack of suitors —before the rumors of her infertility began to spread. A piece of her believes it would be nice to settle down, though deep down, she knows her lord husband's keep would feel like a prison. But then her mind strays to Jory Cassel and what could become of their friendship. Benjen thinks he can guess who she's thinking of when a flush of warmth rises to her cheeks, but he says nothing.