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Before Harrenhal, Anya had never seen melted stone before. She’d always thought it was only a tale, just as dragons had been. But the monster wasn’t under the bed anymore ; the monster was in that blackened rock, in those ceilings that went so high she couldn’t even see where they ended, in the rotted air of the place. The monster surely had been behind that cursed storm for she’d never seen the likes of it, even in the gloomy Riverlands. Her skirts had been soaked as they’d kept on walking through the night, their weight dragging her and Val down as she held on to him fiercely, trying to shield him when he was already wet to the bone. The boy had not inherited his father’s strength and at nine years old, he still struggled to play with children his age, all of them twice as big. Anya had accepted that the Gods had given her son a gentle soul, a taste for the letters he couldn’t decipher, a longing for the things he’d never known. She was grateful for it ; one angry man was already enough for even the biggest of houses. It was Arthur that had insisted on stopping in Harrenhal for the night. His anger floated in the air, as heavy as the summer heat, his eyes those of a mad dog when she had tried to dissuade him, in vain.
- Remember what the mad wives used to say, she pleaded, her arm throbbing as he grabbed it to push her forward. There are ghosts in the walls and their flesh is still burning. Their children weep night and day in every corner. Arthur, please. We can walk. Please.
He hadn’t listened, hadn’t even bothered to direct his anger at her as he yanked her to the stables. Gods be good to her, she would’ve taken the beating this time, if only it meant being away from this place. There was something unnatural about it. Val had stirred in his sleep and once they were inside, he had climbed out of her arms, all lanky and bony. Anya stood there as father and son walked deeper into the empty hall, the sound of their footsteps a cursed melody. The castle was anything but silent, in truth. Cracking of wood somewhere in the distance, raindrops falling heavily on the stone, the wind screaming in small crevices. It was a live being, she decided. With a rotting smell, a crooked smile in the rock, hair made of moss, invisible eyes that never left her as she reluctantly followed closely behind.
Arthur immediately settled on making a fire, which seemed useless to her. The place was so damp she could almost feel herself breathing it in, but he needed to place his anger somewhere. His movements were rough, that of the mindless soldier, the unbothered killer, the determined knight. He would’ve made a good warrior. He would’ve taken the anointing and placed all his rage in a just cause. That had always been the thing Anya envied the nobles for ; a sense of purpose. A higher calling. Survival gets tiring.
Val climbed on top of a stone that had fallen from the roof, trying to maintain his balance on it. Anya called his name but it was too late ; he slipped on the rainwater that had gathered under his feet and fell to the ground with a huff that echoed to the depths of the castle. Arthur turned to the boy, happily directing his rage at him and hit him right across the face. The blow stunned Val, as it always did. He had never gotten used to violence, even in a world that was built out of it. He usually cowered, his eyes swelling with tears. No, that boy was not a fighter. Though perhaps the exhaustion proved too much that night and madness was bound to take them all. Val’s eyes flashed with wrath and he pushed his father, nearly sending him on the ground before storming away, letting the castle devour him. Anya and Arthur stood there, stunned, watching him before looking at each other. His breath was that of a wounded dog, right before the kill, and he stayed down, having the decency to avert his gaze. “Val”, she thought. “My boy is alone in this cursed place”. Her worry was a fever as she heard herself speak before thinking, the sound of her own voice unknown to her.
- We must find him. He’ll be scared all alone.
Gods, Arthur did look like an animal when he raised his head to her. He never shaved his beard and Anya could always feel its sting on her skin long after he’d make love to her. He didn’t move so she did, pushing him away with a strength that felt unknown to her. She kept thinking about Val as she sank deeper into the corridors of the castle, the raindrops so loud she felt they were falling inside her head. He was a fragile boy and had been born frightened of the life that awaited him. All the other children always mocked him in the village and Anya often wished Arthur would hit them too for that, but he didn’t see the harm in it. He still thought Val needed to toughen up. “The world has enough tough men”, Anya always wanted to tell him. It would be good to welcome the soft ones too. Every darkened stone in the castle made her feel Val’s fear as if it were her own, as if they were still connected. Her mind kept playing back the memory of his tears when the village boys were particularly mean.
“I’ll never be free of fear.”
Anya saw something moving in the corner of her eyes. A dreadful voice had started singing in her mind, telling her that her son was lost and even the depth of her fear made no sense to her. She recalled the words of her grandfather, telling her that fear alerted of danger before the mind could even comprehend it. What was it in those walls that was so dangerous that her hands wouldn’t stop sweating or shaking ?
“No one is ever truly free of fear.”
She saw a door and walked outside without thinking, her body now an instrument of fear. The Godswood. Anya hesitated, feeling as though every shadow was a spectator to her distress, and to calm herself, her hand went flat on the tree. It was old and wrinkled, almost human in what the time had done to it. Out of exhaustion rather than devotion, she fell to her knees, gripping the seven-pointed stars at her throat. She prayed to the old Gods and the new, swore she was grateful for what had been and pleaded for what should be.
“Warrior, give me strength to protect those I love. Mother, protect thy children and mine. Smith, arm these hands of mine. If thou hunger for someone, Stranger, take me instead.”
Anya closed her eyes so tight they hurt, swearing she would find Val. She would scream and hug him and her voice would alert Arthur. Tears would be shed and their anger would be lessened by the joy of finally leaving Harrenhal. All would be well when the sun would shine again. Oh, how she yearned for it. Daylight. A branch cracked behind her and she turned around, startled. The rain seemed to grow stronger if that was even possible, clouding her good judgement and her vision. Feeling it run on her forehead like sweat, she wiped it, again and again, to the point of hurting herself before she was able to decipher the shape of a body in the dark. Her body went cold ; was that the shape of a knight’s chainmail ? She knew knights, they visited her grandfather’s tavern daily ; she knew their sounds and their holy shape. Metal rattled on stone as the knight spoke.
- Do you know what feelings this place breeds ? When my feet burn upon the earth as my body threatens to succumb under such agony. Do you know how the temple of the Gods feels to creatures such as I ? Home. It bears the grasp of a haven whose gates have sealed upon me;
- Who goes there ? screamed Anya.
She ran to the figure and put a hand on its shoulder, ready to unmask it but her hand only met stone. What had possessed it was already gone with the wind. “Val”, she remembered like a madwoman. "I have to find my son. My baby is lost to me." Someone said her name and it was Arthur this time, drenched with the falling rain. The sight of him overwhelmed her with anger.
- Stop standing there ! Look for Val !
- This Gods-forsaken place is doing things to me Any, he responded in a blank voice, the surname on his lips making her go quiet. Perhaps the mad wives were right. Don’t you smell this foul stench ?
She did smell it. How could she not ? The burning scent was so strong she could’ve closed her eyes and picture Harren the Black and his entire family, their flesh burnt to a crisp. It made her hunger for their meat.
- Go find Val, she repeated to keep both of them sane. Arthur, please. We find him and we leave. I don’t want to stay here.
Was there tears or rain in Arthur’s eyes as he looked at her ? Was he trying to shut the voice of the castle down the way Anya was ? He stood next to the window, the crumbling roof letting the rain fall on him as he gazed out. His stance scared her, like an animal caught in a trap, reeking of that wildness she’d seen in him during the first years of their marriage. Anya tried hard to be brave. Even wolves can become dogs with one caress.
- Even in this place, you look beautiful. And I want you. Gods, I do. I am a monster every time I've had you. I don't love you the way people love each other. I love you the way… the way something unnatural loves its prey. I want… I want to consume you.
I want you to sometimes, she almost said. But she knew the words weren’t hers : it was the castle’s voice screaming near her heart. "Gods, I’m afraid." The Mother wouldn’t protect any of them. Something is about to unfold, Anya kept thinking. Everything had been at the edge of a precipice and was now tipping forward. The rain kept falling furiously, making the stone sing ; the storm was gathering. There was something unholy about it.
Someone screamed in the tenderness of the night and Anya’s fear grew so great that she felt herself going mad with it. All her thoughts were of Val. The boy's voice was always calm and felt like a finger on soft silk but there had always been a sadness in it. Every word he uttered had been filled with melancholia, which was odd for a boy so young. He seemed to miss a happiness and a time he had never known. There was another scream, louder this time, and it seemed to snap Arthur out of his spell. He hesitated, looking at Anya ; if the time had been different, she could’ve mocked him for not recognizing his son’s voice. It was filled with terror and almost a sob but immediately recognizable to her. Those screams had rhythmed her nights when he was first born. Forgetting about the stone knight and the Gods and everything, Anya started running, so fast she almost fell on the wet ground before catching herself.
- Val ! Val !
In her panic, she took a wrong turn and ran head first into a wall, the stone hitting her with mad violence. Her grandfather would’ve said that such things make you see stars but Anya didn’t see stars, not even the sky. Through the blood pouring from her open wound, her eyes could make the shape of a wooden table, filled with meat. Its scent was rotten to her nostrils but it didn’t seem to bother the strange woman, a grieving woman by the looks of her black dress. Tears still filled her eyes as she bit into the meat with wild desperation. Anya blinked, cold to her bones, and the woman was gone, the table and food with her. She could perceive other screams through the ringing in her ears. Before she could realize what she was doing, her feet moved her to stand up and keep on running. There were footsteps behind her, hurried as hers were. Her mind told her that it was Arthur. Her heart yelled to run faster, not even knowing where to go. “This body is not mine. Something inside it which I have no control over moves it. It feels good. Val will stop screaming once he feels it too”. But Val had already stopped screaming ; Anya couldn’t hear him anymore. Without understanding how or why, she stopped in the middle of a room, slipping to the ground. It was too dark to see past two feet and she could only hear the sounds of the castle. Wind, rain, tick, tick, tick, heavy rain mixed with mud. Behind her, Arthur stopped too, a horror she had never seen before in his eyes. “So he is capable of fear too”. She didn’t look up at the hanged body of her son. The drops of blood near her fingers told her all she needed to know. Anya fancied the red that of a rose and closed her eyes.