𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐓𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲,
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤
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____ The clashing of steel swords filled the atmosphere of Winterfell's courtyard throughout the bleak morning in the dreary, yet appealing, Northern Kingdom.

Alysanne and Greywind, two of the direwolf pups, observed their Stark masters from afar as they gracefully dueled together.

Rikson evaded the blade held in Robb's grasp with a powerful thrust of his sword, the connecting of steel blades vibrating through their muscular arms.

The eldest Stark spun himself away from the seconborn, following up with a slash to Rikson's feet, who avoided the hit as he leapt over the dull steel.

Rikson blocked another slash of Robb's blade as they ran towards the other, the two brothers landing on opposite sides of the murky courtyard.

Once more, the brothers ran at the other and their blades clashed together with a powerful thrust. They began to spin themselves in a slow circle, their blades refusing to detach from one another out of pride for who would be the weakest and give up first.

"You always fight with such anger, Riks."

The secondborn Stark broke eye contact with his brother as Robb's blade forcefully pushed against his, almost resulting in Rikson loosing his balance.

Regaining himself, Rikson lowly growled as he shoved his brother a mere few feet in front of him, before he raised the blade above his head and the brothers' blades collided in a clash of swords.

The two direwolves continued to eye the steel swords with curiosity, along with wariness, as they danced across Winterfell's grubby courtyard.

The cerulean eyed Stark blocked his brother's swing as he slid beneath the blade. From where he landed upon the ground, he quickly spun himself around and their swords met with another clang of steel.

The eldest Stark stumbled backwards when his brother's foot came into harsh contact with his knee.

Rikson leapt to his booted feet, furiously thrusting his dull sword towards his older brother. Robb caught his brother's arms, halting the younger Stark's swing.

They spun themselves as their strengths equaled the other while they tried to push the other off of them.

Robb managed to shove his brother away from him, followed by a kick to Rikson's nose. The secondborn tumbled backwards from the blow to his nose.

The black direwolf fiercely barked as she stood from beside her brother, prepared to defend her Stark master if the situation warranted it.

Hastily regaining himself, Rikson halted a slash to his chest as he blocked his brother's blade with his own.

Clashing of steel followed by grunts and groans continued to fill the courtyard as the Stark brothers remained focused on their intense duel.

Unbeknowst to the dueling brothers, Sansa and her direwolf pup had approached the courtyard.

Alysanne and Greywind removed their attention from the duel and to their sister as Lady excitedly trotted towards them, all three of their tails wagging.

"Riky!"

Upon hearing his younger sister's voice, Rikson glanced towards the very jolly looking Sansa.

The eldest Stark took advantage of the distraction, kicking Rikson's feet out from underneath him, sending the Stark onto the ground.

Alysanne ceased her playful scrimmage with her siblings as she furiously barked at the eldest Stark.

Chuckling, Robb offered his hand to Rikson, pulling him to his feet with ease as he wasn't very heavy.

Rikson's wavy locks were dampened with sweat, his chest heaving as he panted, as he bent down to grab the training sword he'd dueled his brother with.

Robb took the sword from Rikson, proceeding to place them into the weapons rack beside the courtyard, as Sansa practically skipped towards Rikson.

"What has you so joyous, Sansa?"

"The Royal Family is coming to Winterfell."

"The Royal Family? Why?"

Sansa shrugged, "Prince Joffery will be traveling with them. The handsome Prince Joffery."

Rikson chuckled as Sansa gushed over the golden haired Prince of House Baratheon that she'd only ever heard rumors about from Southern women. 

"You've never met the Prince, what if he's ugly?"

The Tully-haired Stark gasped as if her brother's comment was unspeakable, proceeding to shove his shoulder, "The Prince is not ugly."

Her response resulted in laughter falling from her brother's lips. Sansa rolled her eyes at her wavy-haired brother, wondering why she even bothered to inform him of the Royal Family's travel to Winterfell.

"Why is the King coming this far North?"

Rikson swiftly calmed himself from his laughing fit after his brother had spoken, placing his hands on his hips as he contemplated Robb's question.

"The King will probably ask father to be his Hand,
now that Jon Arryn is dead."

The siblings nodded to Rikson's statement, agreeing.

"Still, it would be foolish of father if he accepted the King's proposal. We all know what happens to Stark men when they travel South."

"Don't call father foolish, Riky."

Rikson raised his hands in surrender as he smirked, "Sorry, My Lady."

While the siblings conversed amongst themselves about the Royal Family, the direwolf pups fumbled over to them as they playfully battled one another.

Rikson's gaze shifted onto the pups as Lady bumped her body against his leg, yipping at her brother.

He grinned as Alysanne defended her sister, easily tackling Greywind and pinning him on the ground with her front paws. Greywind pawed at Alysanne, as if he were calling a truce, and only when Lady yipped in approval did the black wolf release her brother.

"Before supper you two better take a bath.
You both reek of sweat and mud."

Her remark was followed by a chuckle from both her brothers as Rikson returned his gaze to his siblings.

"And I'd fetch Maester Luwin for your nose, Riky."

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Rikson lifted his hand, wincing when his fingers came into contact with his bloody nose. The Stark just assumed he must've been kicked harder than he thought when he had dueled with his older brother.

Sansa proceeded to rip the lower-sleeve fabric off of her dress, tenderly pressing the cloth to Rikson's sore nose. She grimaced at how quickly the blue shaded fabric turned deep red in a matter of seconds.

"Ripping your dress for me,
dear sister, I'm honored."

Sansa rolled her light-blue eyes, although she couldn't help the grin that crept onto her beautiful features.

"I only did it because mother would have a fit if she saw how bloody your face really is, Riky."

Robb subtly rolled his eyes, knowing Rikson had always been Sansa's favorite out of all six of her Stark siblings. He remembered whenever they practiced their swordsmens skills as children Sansa would always rush over to Rikson when he fell.

Once satisfied Rikson's nose had stopped bleeding, Sansa removed the cloth, that was no longer blue, from his nose. Rikson took the bloody cloth from his sister's hand, kissing her head in thanks before the three of them made their way inside the castle to clean themselves of sweat, dirt, and blood.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

When the raven brought news of the Royal Family's mere days away arrival in Winterfell, the old gray castle began to bustle with excitement.

Sansa practically radiated glee wherever she went as she ranted about the Prince. Arya, Bran and Rickon, were joyous about being able to witness all of the King's golden armored knights.

Theon wouldn't stop prattling on about the Queen, 'a sleek bit of mink' he'd call her. Jon was despondent over the royal guests arrival, knowing Catelyn would exclude him from as many events as possible.

Robb didn't mind the fact royal guests were traveling this far North, yet he seemed wary of whatever proposal the King had for his father.

Meanwhile, Rikson didn't worry himself much for the Royal Family's arrival as he helped his mother prepare for their guests' stay in their Northern home.

"We'll need plenty of candles for Lord Tyrion's chamber. I'm told he reads all night."

Catelyn informed as she, Rikson, and Maester Luwin walked into Winterfell's Dining Hall.

Many servants inhabited the hall as they followed through with their Lord & Lady's commands. Black-metal and candle-filled chandeliers were being hefted towards the stone ceiling, as the floors were swept clean of dirt and the walls cleansed of dust.

"I'm told he drinks all night." Rikson retorted as he paced beside his mother.

"How much could he possibly drink?
A man of his.. stature?"

Rikson held in a snicker, noticing the googly-eyed looks the younger female servants shot his way. The secondborn simply sent a small wave their way. It's not that Rikson thought the women ugly, he just found it hard to imagine himself with anyone else after Adryana Snow, whom he still missed dearly.

"Eight barrels of ale were brought up from the cellar. Perhaps we'll find out."

The elder Maester's voice brought the wavy-haired Stark from his haunting thoughts as they ceased their walking underneath, one of the many, archways that led out of the stone-made dining hall.

"In any case, candles.
That'll be all, Maester Luwin."

Maester Luwin respectfully bowed his head before he left the Tully mother and her Stark son to themselves. Catelyn faced her son, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts as he stared at the floor. To anyone else his gaze was unreadable, but to his mother Rikson's crystal eyes were filled with downheartedness.

"I noticed their gazes, as well, my beautiful boy."
Catelyn spoke in a hushed tone, gently grabbing her son's muscular arms with her soft hands.

Rikson closed his eyes as he exhaled a breath that seemed to release the tension in his muscles.

"I miss her, mom.. so much."

Catelyn grimly gazed upon her son as she softly rubbed his arms. After Rikson had returned from beyond the Wall, blood-soaked and despaired, he'd been riddled with nightmares of what he did to the Wildlings.

Sometimes, those nightmares haunted him in the hours of the day, as well.

Catelyn prayed every night to the Old Gods and the New to release her sweet boy of the memories that riddled him with nightmares ever since.

"My beautiful boy, no one your age ever believes this, but trust me, you will find love again. It will be just as amazing as the first time, and maybe just as painful, but, Rikson, it will happen again."

Rikson grinned as he embraced his sweet mother, taking in her comforting scent of pine and lavender. He could never express to her enough how grateful he was that he had his mother to confide in.

"Now, my beautiful boy, go join your brother, Jon, and Theon in the kitchens with Tommy."

Rikson groaned, "Mom..."

Catelyn chuckled at her son, knowing how much pride he took in his wavy brunette locks. He loved his hair as much as he loved his Valyrian-steel sword.

"I know, Riky, but you can't be seen around the King with this heap of brunette hair on your head."

Rikson, once again, groaned, "It's not a heap, mom. Besides I'm the secondborn son, none of the Northern Lords or the King himself will care about me."

Catelyn was taken aback by Rikson's statement, that he seemed to truly believe, as her mouth gaped like a fish for a moment before she responded with,

"Rikson of House Stark, my son, will not believe that he is unimportant to House Stark. You may be the secondborn son and you may not inherit Winterfell, but you will still marry into a powerful House and strengthen House Stark."

The secondborn son of House Stark nodded, taking his mother's words to heart, although he still didn't want to have his precious locks trimmed.

"I understand, mom. I promise I'll make you
proud of the man I'll become one day."

Catelyn smiled, "You already have, my beautiful boy."

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Only because Rikson loved his mother so, he found himself walking towards Winterfell's kitchens.

His brothers, Robb and Jon, along with the intolerable Greyjoy waited for him in one of the backrooms of the large kitchen, all three boys standing shirtless.

Robb had already been seated on a stool that was placed in front of the mute, known as Tommy, getting his facial hair shaved by the rather large man.

Theon leant against a wooden-pole, one of the many inside the small room, as Jon stood beside Rikson. The tallest of the boys himself proceeded to unbutton his dark-leather vest, setting it on the stack of barrels behind him before doing the same with his shirt.

The serving girls working in the kitchens gushed over the boys, practically drooling over Rikson's sculptured chest as he leant against the stack of barrels behind him, his muscles flexing as he crossed his arms.

"Why is your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the King?" Jon questioned.

"It's for the Queen, I bet. I hear-"

"She's a sleek bit of mink, yeah yeah." Rikson interrupted Theon with an annoyed expression placed upon his handsome features as he mocked the Greyjoy's obnoxious voice with a roll of his eyes.

"I hear the Prince is a royal prick." Robb spoke up from where he sat, the mute giving the boy's left cheek one last shave of his knife, before patting his shoulders, signaling he was finished.

"Think of all those southern girls he gets to stab with his royal prick." Theon commented, earning an eye roll from both Rikson and Jon as Robb stood up.

Robb smirked as he patted Rikson's shoulder, playfully shoving him towards the stool, "Go on, Tommy, shear him good." Tommy grabbed the boy's shoulders, seating him on the wooden stool before him.

"He's never met a girl he likes better than his own hair." Laughter from the three boys followed Robb's comment as Rikson groaned when he felt Tommy's scissors begin to cut at his precious brunette locks.

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