CASTLE BLACK IS no true castle —not even a fortress in its current state, really. Its only defenses are the short wooden and stone parapet and the Wall itself. Anya can hardly remember the last time she looked upon the ancient seat of the Night's Watch, but she knows it was as a child with Lord Rickard and Benjen. She stops at the gate and looks up.
"What business do you have here, woman?" Perhaps if not for the rags on her back and the filth in her hair and on her face, Dolorous Edd would have recognized her from the times he frequented Winterfell with the brothers of the Night's Watch. Anya's brown mare shifts restlessly.
"I need to speak to Jon," she calls up. "So, open the bloody gate, Edd." Eddison Tollett flushes and waves to the two other black brothers standing on the ramparts. Chains rattle, and hinges creak as they open the gate wide enough for her horse to pass. Dolorous Edd is there to greet her by the book this time, having realized it is Anya Stark —the fair sister of Benjen and the aunt Jon Snow wouldn't shut up about. It surprises Anya how glad she is to see Edd's grim face.
He turns and motions for a stout brother to come. "Sam," he shouts, and Samwell Tarly stumbles forward, stopping when he sees her. They've not met in this life before, but Sam thinks he can recognize Anya Stark by looks alone. Jon told them Anya was one of the prettiest ladies in the North, if not the whole of Westeros. A summer beauty with an icy gaze. "Take her to the Lord Commander," Edd tells him. Lord Commander? It couldn't be.
"He talked about you a lot, you know," Sam tells her, slightly out of breath from his excitement. Anya smiles as they cross the training yard, but her heart sinks —talked.
Jon steps from the common hall. Anya stops when she sees him, her breath caught by the sudden lump in her throat. He scans the courtyard, looking over the black brothers training with swords and bows in the evening light —some still move like green boys even after the battle— and misses her standing there. On a quick second look, he notices her standing next to Samwell Tarly, a ghost, but her honey hair is a beacon of light and warmth compared to the drab colors of Castle Black. Jon Snow's heart begins to race. He takes large, hastened strides, almost stumbling in the muck and over felled pieces of stone.
Anya reaches out and touches his cheek, her fingers cold but gentle. He has a scraggly beard and scars that weren't there when she first sent him off for the Wall. She doesn't want to cry, but tears sting her eyes when she embraces him. Until now, until having Jon Snow —the boy she raised— back in her arms, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed him. It's a homecoming for Anya, who feels she has no true home to which she can ever return. Jon presses his face into her neck and clings to Anya Stark, his eyes burning with unshed tears. We all should have stayed in Winterfell.
From the yard, Jon leads her to his quarters in the Lord Commander's Keep and closes the splintering door, his hand lingering on the rough wood as though to keep himself from collapsing under the weight of everything. "They said you were dead." Jon's voice cracks. Samwell Tarly was the one to give him the scroll brought by a raven when he returned to Castle Black from beyond the Wall, pocked with arrows from a woman who said she loved him. It's broken red wax seal stamped with the sigil of the Hand of the King and signed by Tywin Lannister. He read the letter over and over —until the words blurred from the tears in his eyes.
Perhaps he'd been a fool to believe the Lannisters would be truthful, but after what happened to his father, brother, and sisters, how could he question the validity of such words? No one across the realm had heard any news of Anya Stark in ages. Nothing to disprove the claims made by the Lannisters. Her name, just like Eddard Stark's, had become a memory.
She's certain that's what the Lannisters wished. They must have truly believed it, given Jaime Lannister's surprise to see her in the flesh. Anya takes Jon's arm, a gentle assurance she's really there. "I thought I'd never see you again," Jon says, his cheeks tear stained. And seeing him cry renews Anya's tears. Anya pulls him back into her arms and Jon lets out a shaky breath.
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Wilting ♞ Sandor Clegane
Fiksi Penggemar"But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose." ― Anne Brontë All men must die. All roses must wilt. There is a streak of wildness behind steel eyes. Two distinctly Stark features, yet they belong to Anya Whent. A Southe...