Wilting ♞ Sandor Clegane

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THE KINGSROAD WASN'T safe. The woods weren't safe. Nowhere was safe. She rode north but never traveled on the road unless it was to cross rivers and streams. Anya knew it was a long way to the Wall from King's Landing, but the distance and danger could not dissuade her from going. I have to go north, I have to.

There was a bow on her back with a quiver of poorly constructed arrows at her side, the ancient sword Dark Sister was secured on the saddle. Her cloak was patched and tattered at the hem, her clothes too thin for braving the cold of the North, yet she persevered. She was raised in the cold of the North. Its bite was familiar and welcomed, the chill that settled into her bones was empowering.

Anya came upon accustomed paths in the dense and snowy wood. She was passing through the Wolfswood. For this one time, she braved the risk of being spotted and came to the edge of the forest. Winterfell was on the horizon, and it called her home, but for her home was not a place, it was the people she knew and loved. Even if Winterfell was home, now it bore the banners of the traitor Boltons. The Whent girl drove the heels of her boots into the sides of Almond and fled from the sight of the castle.

Only after Winterfell was well past her did she return to the Kingsroad, it would take her to Castle Black and Jon. Anya stopped just twice on the path to the Wall. Once to sleep and let Almond rest, the second time near Mole's Town was for a hot meal and lumpy bed. Within the month, she was deep in the Gift, and snow had begun falling in feathery flakes.

Exhausted, she could not stop the smile that came to stretch across her face when the monstrous Wall came into view on the horizon, looming overhead. A wonder of ice and rock standing over seven hundred feet tall in some places, splitting the continent in two. Anya urged her mount forward and could feel the anticipation building within her gut.

Castle Black was no true castle, not even a fortress really. Its only defense was the Wall and the short wooden and stone parapet that surrounded the training yard. She couldn't precisely remember that last time she had seen the ancient seat of the Night's Watch. It had been as a child, with Lord Rickard. She arrived at the edge of dusk and called up to the rampart.

"What business do you have here, woman?" Maybe if she wasn't covered in filth and dressed like a proper lady, Dolorous Edd would have recognized her.

Almond stamped around restlessly after the slow ride through the woods to Castle Black. "I need to speak to Jon so openly the bloody gate Edd." The brother of the Night's Watch flushed and waved to two others who stood on the ramparts as well.

Chains rattled and hinges creaked. The gate opened just wide enough for her horse to make passage. Edd had come down and greeted her, by the book this time, as he recognized her to be the fair sister of Benjen Stark. She hadn't expected to be so glad to see Eddison Tollet's grim face. "Sam!" He called, and a stout brother came stumbling forward. When he saw Anya, he froze in his tracks. Sam knew who she was at first sight. There was no mistaking she was the aunt Jon always spoke so fondly of. "Take her to the lord commander," Dolorous Edd told him.

"He talks about you a lot, you know," Sam told her, slightly out of breath from his excitement and Anya smiled as they crossed the yard.

Jon exited the common hall into the falling snow. Anya stopped when she saw him, her breath caught in her throat. He scanned over the courtyard, looking at the brothers who were training, some still moved like green boys. He had missed her standing there. Her clothes blended into the background of the garrison too well. It took only a second afterward for him to notice the honey hair that stood out against the blacks and greys of Castle Black, though.

He forewent stairs and jumped from the platform, taking large hastened strides until he stood before his aunt. In silence, Anya touched his cheek. He had a beard now and scars that weren't there when he had left Winterfell. When she smiled, so did Jon. Anya refused to cry when she took him into her arms. She hadn't truly realized how much she missed him until this moment. It was like a homecoming to Anya, who had no true home to which she could ever return.