Wilting ♞ Sandor Clegane

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NED COMES TO her chambers, still hobbling along with his walking stick. Anya hates seeing him like this, but Pycelle is uncertain if Eddard Stark will ever regain his mobility after such a wound, perhaps had he been younger. He sits on her bed and stretches out his leg with a pained grimace. "Anya," he starts, looking to the wide window, "we need to talk." She does not like the grave tone of his voice one bit. 

"I'm sending you and the girls back to Winterfell," he says, lowering his head. It was a mistake to bring Sansa and Arya to this wretched city —maybe even a mistake to betroth Sansa to Joffrey, the incestuous offspring of Cersei and Jaime Lannister. "This is no place for them" —Ned looks at his sister— "or you." May the Old Gods forgive him for leading his family into such peril so carelessly. "I've booked passage on the Winter's Witch," he tells her. "It sails in two days." It's enough time to pack their belongings and prepare for the voyage to White Harbor.

But there's still a distraught look about him, and though Eddard Stark's expressions are difficult to decipher, Anya knows something is wrong. "What else are you not telling me?" She asks.

He sighs and reaches into his sleeve, revealing a piece of rolled parchment. "I've received a raven," he admits. Ned has spent half the day thinking of how to tell her —he knows this will break her heart, more so than it already is.

A hundred possibilities race through her mind at once. She thinks of her nephews at Winterfell and Catelyn with Tyrion Lannister as her prisoner. Lastly, she thinks of Jon and his place at the Wall with Benjen. She would give anything to see them both again. "Is it the boys? Catelyn? Jon?"

He shakes his head and turns over the piece of parchment with a broken black seal in his hands. She's seen the seal many times on the letters Benjen sent —and a fool's hope to think it will be a letter from her brother by the way Ned is acting. But she holds onto a fool's hope anyway, it's all she has. "From Castle Black," he says. "Benjen went missing on a ranging north of the Wall" —he looks to his sister, finding her icy stare void of emotion— "his horse returned, but not him."

Anya shakes her head, laughing almost. It's impossible. She won't believe it. "Let me see it." She holds out her hand but Ned does not relinquish the scroll. "Anya," he starts in a stern tone but she cuts him off. "Let me see the damn piece of paper, Ned!" She needs to read it for herself. He passes her the scroll and she unfurls the parchment with shaking hands, reading over the words Jeor Mormont wrote thrice over just to be sure. It's not true. Anya can't believe it, she won't believe it. Benjen was among the most seasoned rangers of the Watch, he'd gone on a hundred rangings before. She shakes her head, unable to push down the knot in her throat.

Her voice vanishes and tears roll freely down her cheeks. When does this end? She wants to scream. My sweet Jory and now Benjen. Anya's sobs are silent, but her breathing is uneven and her chest heaves, her shoulders shaking. Direwolves don't cry. Ned places his arm around her shoulders, she leans into him. A hand gently strokes her hair, but it doesn't stall the tears or the despair that takes hold of her heart. Anya Stark does not know how much more she can take before she breaks. Direwolves don't cry she repeats in her mind. Direwolves don't cry she only cries harder. Direwolves don't cry she says again and again as if it will make the tears stop. Direwolves don't cry...but I'm not a wolf.