Wilting ♞ Sandor Clegane

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ANYA LONGS FOR an ally in King's Landing she can trust wholeheartedly, but alas, there is no one. Only Varys —and his cold cunning— and she's not so much a fool as to trust him. She tries her luck to sneak off to the dungeons to see Ned, but the guards outside the Tower of the Hand instruct her to turn back and return to her chambers, elsewise they tell the queen of her attempted escape. It takes three days before she can abscond the tower during the changing of the guard. She flees toward the dungeons, shrouded by her cloak and stowing away a basket with two wineskins of water, a loaf of bread, and junk of hard cheese.

Following Varys's instructions, she finds the passageway leading into the dark depths of the dungeons and steels herself against what horrors may lie in the darkness —unseen for decades. Anya holds her lantern aloft, minding each step on the slick stones. Water drips from the ceiling, and the scent of mold and decay lingers in the air. She keeps her eyes downcast, shuffling past rats and stripped bones and trying not to think much about the instruments of torture hanging from the walls and ceilings. It's a winding maze, but soon she finds a second set of stairs to the black cells.

He's sitting against the wall in a pool of stagnant water, half-asleep when the door of the cell creaks and groans. The flickering flames are blinding and remind him his leg is a dull agony. His lips are parched and cracked, and his hands and feet are bound in iron. At first, he thinks the footsteps are only a dream, but then when he sees his sister, he's certain it's a dream. That is until Anya kneels at his side and reaches out to touch his cheek —a soft and warm caress— and he almost fools himself into believing it is Catelyn with the fever.

"What have they done to you, Ned?" There's a tremble in her voice; it hurts her to see Eddard Stark like this. He does not say anything in response. She is a ghost, he thinks, but her voice and touch are real. Anya embraces him, and he can feel the dampness of her cheek against his —her tears. Letting him go, she sits back on her heels, hands holding his face. It is good to see her, but he fears what may happen should the Lannisters catch her.

"You should not have come here," he rasps, watching as she pushes the basket of food and water to him. He takes the water first.

"You're my brother," she says with a weak smile. "I won't allow them to starve you down here in this dark filth." He takes the hunk of bread and begins eating whilst Anya looks over his injured leg. It's yet to heal cleanly, but there is no sign of it turning rancid. She washes out the bits of debris and covers the wound, nigh frowning as she does. The flames of her lantern cast dark shadows across Eddard Stark's face that make him look years older than he is. "Ned." His grey eyes flash up to meet hers, brows furrowed. It takes him a moment to realize the quivering in his sister's voice comes from her tears. "Your children need their father," she tells him, and he already knows where this is leading.

Ned places his fettered hands on his sister's cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "Anya, no," he says. "I cannot allow you to give your life for mine." Only he could hope to right the wrongs and clear his name. "Do not ask me to see your blood split." She wants to protest his stubbornness, but he continues. "I need you to look after the girls for me," he says, seeing the tears in her eyes. "Swear loyalty to Joffrey if you must." Anya shakes her head. She knows the truth. Joffrey has no claim to the throne —the crown should pass to Stannis Baratheon. "Promise me, Anya," Ned whispers. She covers his hands with her own and is slow to nod.

They part, and Anya looks to her lantern —the oil beginning to run low. It will not last another hour. "I was there when Lyanna died in the Tower of Joy," he whispers as the fever dreams come back to him. He placed Dawn at the foot of her birthing bed and knelt at her side —she'd been afraid. She hadn't wanted to die. "On a bed of blood and weak from fever."

"I know," Anya whispers. She knows of his promise to Lyanna, though she does not know what it entails. It is something he will not even speak of to Catelyn.