𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐤
______________

____ The hour of dusk rolled across the sky shinning above the ancient castle of Winterfell. The Royal guests began to retire for the night, as the occupants of the castle left for their homes in the villages, while the Starks' servants left for their chambers.

Meanwhile, inside of the dark and gray walls of the Northern castle, Rikson Stark, carrying his youngest brother with Alysanne behind them, had just entered young Bran's chambers.

Lady Stark sat beside her slumbering son, her sobs muffled by her calloused hands.

Alysanne lowly whined as she lowered herself beside her brother, Summer, who lay beside his Stark on the bed, both of the wolves worried for the Stark.

The room remained somberly silent, aside from Lady Stark's muffled sobs, as Rikson set little Rickon down, watching his brother walk towards their mother.

Catelyn removed her hands from her tear stained face when she heard footsteps approaching her, setting sights on her youngest son. She now noticed that two of her four sons had entered the chambers. Bringing her youngest child into her arms, having noticed the tears glazing Rickon's eyes, she faced her secondborn child and son, who remained by the wooden door of Bran's chambers. It was Rikson who spoke up,

"How?"

His mother sniffled, rubbing soothing circles on Rickon's back, as she responded,

"I-I just found him on the ground... laying
in a pool of his own blood. Maester Luwin said he must have fallen from the broken watchtower
while he was climbing."

Rikson shook his head, "Bran never falls."

When the secondborn Stark had, unintentionally, warged into his direwolf that day, a bond between them had sparked open. Therefore, Alysanne could sense whatever her Stark was feeling without even having to look at him.

Sensing his somber emotions through their newfound bond, Alysanne released a low whine as Rikson approached the bed with glossy azure eyes.

Rikson bit his lip when it began to tremble, knowing he needed be strong for his family, as he placed his hand on young Bran's head, moving the strands of brunette hair from his cold forehead.

"Will he live?"

Catelyn could hear the utter devastation in her son's voice as he kept his broken gaze on his slumbering younger brother, knowing her sweet boy was using all of his strength to remain strong in front of her and Rickon.

"Maester Luwin says if he makes it through
tonight, the worst will have passed."

Rikson nodded, "Then I'll stay, you should get some rest, mom."

"No.. You've had a long day, my beautiful
boy, you need the rest more than I."

Rikson shook his head, but he did not disagree with his mother, knowing arguing about such a matter wouldn't help anyone.

"Wake me if anything happens
tonight, please, mom."

Catelyn nodded, her glassy eyes watching as her sweet boy placed a kiss on little Bran's head before he walked around the bed and kneeled in front of her.

"Young Bran will pull through, mom, I know it."

Still cradling little Rickon, Catelyn placed her hand on Rikson's cheek, who nuzzled into his mother's comforting touch of warmth.

"Get some rest, my beautiful boy, when you wake in the morning, perhaps young Bran will as well."

Rikson kissed the palm of his mother's hand, taking reassurance in the feel of her thumb caressing circles along his smooth cheek. Catelyn then noticed the tiredness held within her son's glossy eyes.

"Get some rest, my beautiful boy."

Rikson nodded his head of wavy hair, blinking away his tears as he stood, gently taking little Rickon from his mother and cradling the young boy in his strong arms. Alysanne licked Summer's head in farewell for the night, before she hopped off of the bed and followed her Stark through the halls of Winterfell.

Arriving at little Rickon's chambers, Rikson set his brother down and opened the wooden door. Shaggydog's fluffy tail began to wag when his green eyes laid sights on his sister, who had entered his Stark's chambers after her own Stark master. The two direwolves began to fumble around with the other before the fireplace, while Rikson helped his tired youngest brother into his night clothes.

Noticing the sadness in little Rickon's eyes, Rikson knew he needed to lighten his brother's spirits, mischievously grinning as an idea came to mind.

Rikson grabbed his brother from behind, making a squeal of surprise emit from the young one as his brother pretended to gobble him up. The heartwarming laughter of little Rickon filled his chambers as his older brother threw himself onto the bed, tickling the little boy's ribs as Rickon tried to escape his grasp.

"Riky, s-stop." Rickon said in between gasps of breath from his laughter and the tickling. Relenting his tickling of his youngest brother's ribs, Rikson sat up from the bed and began to tuck little Rickon into his aniaml-fur blanketed bed. Sneaking in a few last tickles to his brother, resulting in adorable giggles from Rickon, before he finished tucking in his youngest sibling.

"Riky?"

Rikson hummed in response, sitting beside Rickon on the bed.

"Is Bran going to die?"

Rikson furrowed his brows as a thoughtful expression overtook his features.

"No... Bran will live, little Rickon."

"How do you know?"

"... I know."

Rikson Stark knew there was a chance that his brother wouldn't survive the night, but little Rickon didn't need something like that on his young and innocent mind. And Rikson had hope his brother would live, and his hope was stronger than his fear, it always was.

"Now off to bed, little Rickon."

Shaggydog jumped onto the bed, laying beside his Stark as the young boy fell asleep. Standing from the bed, Rikson kissed the little one's head before quietly leaving the chambers, with his black direwolf beside him.

Through their bond, the direwolf could sense how the shocking news of his brother's fall and the memories he had to relive had worn him out. The pain resonating through Rikson saddened the direwolf, therefore Alysanne leaned against the side of her Stark as they trekked through the halls of the ancient castle.

Rikson stopped outside of his chambers, standing in front of the wooden door. Alysanne whimpered when she noticed the tear sliding down his pale cheek, licking his hand to gain his attention. Rikson closed his eyes while inhaling a breath of the cold air inside of the castle, placing his hand on his direwolf's back. Closing his fist around a patch of his wolf's soft fur, Rikson released the breath of air while unclentching his fist and walking into his chambers with his sweet direwolf beside him.

Upon walking inside of her Stark's chambers, the direwolf's red hues landed on the sister of Rikson sitting on his animal-fur blanketed bed. Lady, Sansa's direwolf, sat before her Stark with her head in her lap as Sansa caressed the direwolf's soft head.

"Sansa? What are you doing
in here at this hour?"

The flames inside of the fireplace casted a warm and twinkling glow onto the Starks' faces as Rikson sat on the bed, beside his younger sister, stroking Lady's head as the direwolf turned her attention to her sister that reminded by Rikson's side. Rikson noticed the slight puffiness in his sister's bright blue eyes, worry beginning to course through him.

"I'm scared for young Bran, Riky. What if
he doesn't make it through tonight?"

"He will, sweet sister, I know he will."

Sansa wanted to believe her brother's tone of voice, that held so much confidence in his belief, yet she couldn't stop her fears from consuming her.

"But you don't know, Riky. No one knows." Her voice as soft as silk began to break as tears threatened to fall from her Tully blue hues.

"You're right, Sansa, I don't know if our brother will live through the night, but I have hope that he will. And my hope is stronger than my fears."

A tear fell from Sansa's eye, sliding down her cheek before landing on her nightgown. Rikson brought his sister into his arms, laying his head on hers as Sansa began to cry in his secure and warm embrace. The direwolves whimpered as they laid before the fireplace, placing their heads on their paws as the only sounds of the chambers were the flames of the fireplace crackling and the muffled sobs from Sansa.

Rikson's heart began to crack as the minutes began to pass, his sweet sister's heartbreaking cries devastating him as he knew he couldn't do anything for her beside provide whatever comfort he could for his sister.

Whilst the Wolf's moon shown brightly above the North, the dark clouds of the night sky casting a somber glow upon the ancient castle of Winterfell,  the minutes began to fade into an hour filled with his sweet sister's weeping, before Rikson, then, notices that his younger sister has fallen asleep in his embrace, her sobs having tired her after the long day she and her family had. The direwolf with auburn fur and blue eyes, Lady, stood as Rikson did, the latter carrying his slumbering sister in his arms and walking around the bed to gently place her on the blankets. Lady hopped onto the bed, laying by her Stark's legs after Rikson had laid a blanket over her.

After preparing himself for the night, Rikson laid his tired body on the animal-fur blanketed bed. Placing his arm underneath his head, Rikson released a breath to relax himself as his tired gaze landed on the ceiling made of stone above him. Rikson Stark hadn't worried about the Royal Family's arrival when the raven had brought the news from the South.

Now he knows he should have.

Ever since their Royal guests had rode through the gates of Winterfell, horrible things kept on happening to the Starks.

Eddard Stark has accepted the King's proposal to venture South with his daughters, a land where Starks have been known to never return from. Sweet Sansa Stark was going to marry the arrogant golden-haired Prince Joffery. There was talk of the White Walkers from legend of thousands of years ago. Bran Stark has fallen from the broken watchtower, and not even the Maester knew if he was going to live.

Rikson released another sigh, though it was filled with sorrow, as he could only hope his family would pull through the dark winter he knew was coming.

In her sleep, Sansa snuggled into the side of her brother, seeking his warmth in the cold chambers she slept in. Rikson snaked his arm across his sister's waist, keeping her close, as he placed a sweet kiss to her auburn Tully hair.

Alysanne stood from her position before the fireplace, walking towards the side of the bed her Stark laid on. Hopping onto the bed, the direwolf laid beside her Stark, placing her head onto his chest. Rikson lazily grinned as his heavy eyes looked towards his direwolf, moving his hand from underneath his head to stroke his wolf's soft fur.

"My good wolf..."

Alysanne whined as she licked her Stark's hand, watching as his heavy eyes fluttered open and close before fully closing as his head slightly fell to the side and the hand stroking her fur went limp. With her head rising and falling to Rikson's steady breathing, Alysanne fell asleep alongside the Starks. All four hoping young Bran Stark would awaken alongside them in the morning.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

The clouds of the North shone before the sun shining above Westeros, casting shadows upon the land. A week had past after the news of young Bran's fall had spread throughout the Northern Kingdom. Inside the halls of the ancient castle, Alysanne sat outside of the wooden door of Bran's chambers, waiting for her Stark to walk out of the door.

Meanwhile, Rikson sat beside his slumbering younger brother with Summer laying his head on the secondborn's lap, lowly whimpering. Lady Stark remained in the same chair she'd been sat in for the past week, watching over her son. Rikson had begged his mother to leave Bran's chambers and to get some rest, but the Lady wouldn't have it.

Summer licked Rikson's hand as he nuzzled his snout into his warm hands, seeking the affection of the Stark. Catelyn grinned, though it was small, as she watched the direwolf beg for her son's attention.

"Ever since those wolves came into the
walls of our home, they have followed you around
like you are their leader or something."

Rikson huffed a laugh, shifting his gaze away from the direwolf of creamy-white fur and towards his tired mother in front of him.

"Perhaps I was a direwolf in a life before
mine, and the pack can sense it."

The mother and son lightly chuckled, feeling bliss for a moment before reality came back to them.

"You should say goodbye to your father and your sisters, they leave for King's Landing today."

Rikson huffed, "I wish they weren't, mom."

"And I as well, my beautiful boy, but your father believes the Lannisters conspire against his friend,
the King, and that he must protect him."

"Father has been fighting King Robert's wars for years, mom, he owes the man nothing. And bringing young Sansa and Arya to the lion's den? Has he not read the books of the history of House Stark when we go south? Does he not remember what the Mad King did to his own father and brother, or what Rhaegar Targaryen did to aunt Lyanna?"

"Hush now, my beautiful boy, your
father's mind is already made, and we
must respect his decision."

"You know I respect father, I've always looked
up to him. But that doesn't mean I agree with his
decision to ride south with my sweet sisters."

Catelyn leaned forward to take her son's warm hands into hers, "I don't like your father's decision either, but as his family we must support him."

"Even if his decision destroys our family?"

Catelyn sighed, moving her gaze to the floor for a moment to think about her son's words before shifting her gaze towards Rikson once more.

"Go say goodbye to your father and
your sisters, my beautiful boy."

Almost reluctantly, Rikson nodded, the curls covering his forehead bouncing to the motion, as he stood from the bed, kissing his mother's cheek and his brother's forehead before leaving Bran's chambers.

Alysanne's fluffy tail began to relentlessly wag when her eyes laid on her Stark, whom closed the wooden door and bent down to his wolf's level. Caressing the direwolf's head, Alysanne licked his red-tinted pale cheek. Rikson chuckled, "Come, my good wolf, we must say farewell to our siblings." Straightening himself, the black direwolf trotted alongside her Stark as they walked through the castle and towards Sansa's bedchambers.

Knocking on the door of his sister's chambers, Alysanne's ears twitched when she heard the soft voice of her Stark's sister grant them entry. Lady began to wag her tail as her sister hopped onto the bed and laid beside her, beginning to groom her with sweet licks of farewell.

Sansa was in the process of packing her belongings into a wooden chest she would take with her when she left for King's Landing later that evening.

"Lady Sansa, I've come to say goodbye."

Sansa delicately packed another dress of hers into her chest before she stopped her packing, facing her sweet brother with a small, though sad, smile on her lips.

Approaching her brother, Sansa placed her hands on Rikson's biceps, "You could come with us, Riky. We could lay under the sun on the beaches and walk through the gardens after supper." Rikson softly smiled as he placed his hand on his sweet sister's cheek, his eyes holding a tenderness that was reserved for his family only, "I belong in the North, sweet sister, you know this."

Sansa did know this, her older brother belonged in the North. It was his home, not just Winterfell but the lands surrounding the ancient castle. But she had to ask her most adored sibling if he would leave.

"I will miss you, my sweet Riky."

Rikson grinned, remembering when Sansa would call him "her sweet Riky" when they were young children.

"I will miss you, as well, my Lady Sansa."

Sansa's eyes began to gloss over with fresh tears as she jumped into her brother's arms, holding him as close to her as she could, as he did the same.

Rikson and Sansa were always the closet siblings out of all the Stark children. When they were children, you wouldn't have seen one without the other. Sansa would always watch over Rikson when he sparred with his brothers, and whenever he fell she would run to his aid, even if he wasn't hurt. And Rikson would always cradle his younger sister during the colder nights or whenever she dreamt of something that bothered her deep into the night.

And they continued those actions of sibling love 'till this day. They were siblings by chance, but friends by choice. Nothing could break their bond. Not even a thousand miles put between them.

Releasing herself from her brother's hold, Sansa placed her hands in Rikson's soft hair, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck as she looked up at him, though he wasn't taller than her by too much.

"Should I leave Lady with you, Riky?"

The Starks looked to the direwolf with auburn fur, whom curiously turned her head at them. Rikson looked into the blue eyes of Lady, the color matching her Stark master, and he knew the direwolf must remain with her Stark. To protect Sansa in the south when he couldn't.

"No, sweet sister, Lady must remain
with you, to protect you."

Lady barked in agreement, resulting in chuckles from both of the Stark siblings.

"Will you come to our wedding, Riky?"

Rikson furrowed his brows, "What?" Still playing with his soft brunette hair, Sansa rolled her eyes at her brother's ignorance,

"Prince Joffery and I are going to marry one day. Father promised. Will you ride to King's
Landing to attend our wedding?"

Rikson looked taken aback, wondering why his sister would ask him such a thing, as he responded,

"I would, sweet sister, you know I would.
I do not like the boy, but I will attend every
major event in your life whenever I can."

Sansa smiled in joy, kissing her brother's cheek, "I want you to walk me down the aisle." Rikson chuckled, "As much as it would honor me, I think father should have that right. Besides, I wouldn't ever want to give you away, sweet sister, especially to some arrogant prince from the south."

Sansa playfully hit her brother's hard chest as a chuckle left her pink lips, "I still want you by my side when I'm married to Prince Joffery, even if you are not the one to walk me down the aisle, I want you there." Rikson smiled, "I will be there, and I'll even bring your favorite."

"My favorite what?"

"Lemon cakes, of course."

Sansa nodded with a smile of joy on her lips, "Those are my favorite, and I want you to do my hair for the binding ceremony and for the feast." Rikson smiled, "I will, sweet sister, but you can't tell anyone it was me who did your hair. If Robb and Jon found out, I would never hear the end of it."

His sister laughed, the sound like the wind bells outside of the stables to Rikson's ears. Rikson realized just how much he was going to miss his sister during her leave for King's Landing, and he couldn't shake the feeling that this would be the last time he would see his sweet sister for a long time.

When her laughter died down, Rikson spoke up, "I do not wish to halt your packing any longer, my sweet sister. And I must say goodbye to Arya and father."

Sansa nodded, "Of course, will you be there this evening when we leave, Riky?" It was Rikson's turn to nod, "I will." Sansa hugged her brother, tightly, once more, before Rikson and his direwolf left her chambers, walking through the halls towards Arya's chambers.

Knocking on the door, Rikson heard little Arya's voice grant him entry. Opening the wooden door, Rikson saw the direwolf, Nymeria, take a pair of gloves into her mouth and walk them over to her Stark, who thanked the second-largest direwolf of gray fur.

"I see you've got help, little wolf."

Arya turned around to face her brother, throwing another article of clothing into her wooden chest, smiling in pride as she looked to her direwolf.

"Watch this."

Rikson crossed his arms with an amused look on his facial expression, as Alysanne sat beside him.

"Nymeria, gloves."

The wolf whimpered in confusion, remaining where she sat, in front of a table with a pair of leather gloves atop it.

"Impressive, little wolf."

"Shut up. Nymeria, gloves!"

The direwolf titled her head in confusion, bringing a grin to Rikson's lips as he walked to the table, patting Nymeria's head as he grabbed the gloves and tossed them to his youngest sister, who caught them.

Arya tossed the gloves into the wooden chest she would take to King's Landing, "Septa Mordane says my things weren't properly folded. Who cares how they're folded? They're going to get all messed up anyway."

Rikson chuckled, "I agree, little wolf, but I remember the last time I argued with the Septa, and it didn't end well. For me, at least."

Arya chuckled at his comment, remembering the scenario he had told her. How as a child, he disagreed with the Septa on the fact that he had to place a napkin over his lap whenever he ate at the table, and the Septa made him sit at the table until he finally gave in.

Then her youthful face lit with excitement, when Arya was reminded of the gift her half-brother, Jon, had given to her some minutes ago.

Rikson furrowed his brows in confusion as little Arya rushed over to the chest on her bed, scrambling through the piles of clothes. Seeming to locate what it was she were looking for, Arya turned to face her brother, a thin sword in her grasp. "Where did you get this?" Rikson asked as Arya placed the sword in his grasp, watching her brother test the balance of the sword. "I know this mark."

"Jon had it made for me."

Rikson chuckled, "Of course he did, you are his favorite out of all of us." Arya smiled, taking the sword into her grasp, once more, "He told me all great swords have names, I named mine Needle."

"A fitting name, my little wolf."

Arya smiled in pride from the praise of her older brother, before she placed Needle into the wooden chest once more, hiding the sword under layers of clothes, not wanting the Septa to notice it.

Then her expression turned somber, knowing her brother wasn't going to go to King's Landing with her and her sister and father. Turning around, Arya swiftly ran into her brother's arms, tears welled in her eyes.

Feeling the shake of his little sister's body, Rikson tightened his hold around her small frame, "Hush, my little wolf, we will seen one another again." Arya sniffled, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek, "Not soon enough, Riky." Rikson's heart cracked at the sound of his youngest sister's voice, the sadness in her tone, "You must be strong, my little wolf."

Arya, still in the arms of her brother, lifted her face from his shoulder to look into his eyes, "I will be, Riky, I promise you." Rikson smiled, a closed-lip smile, in pride, hugging his sister once more before setting her onto her feet.

"Now how about we properly fold your clothes?"

Arya giggled while nodding, wanting to spend as much time with her older brother, before she left for King's Landing, as she could.

Arya was closest with her half-brother, Jon, out of all of her siblings, but Rikson had always been her second favorite. When Arya snuck out of the castle and into the courtyard, moons ago, and shot an arrow into the middle of a target, her father and brother were there, praising her. And ever since, Rikson had taught her how to properly use a bow, in secret of course. Rikson would help Arya hide from Septa Mordane whenever she wanted to escape her sewing lessons. And late into the long nights, Maester Luwin would find Arya cuddled up to a sleeping Rikson, reading a book about the Valyrian dragons and the Targaryens, the two having been known for spending their free time together in the library of Winterfell.

Rikson would miss his little wolf's company in the castle, and Arya would miss his presence that provided security and comfort in the south.

The two siblings laughed and playfully bantered while they properly folded Arya's clothes and packed them into the wooden chest she would bring south. While Alysanne and Nymeria laid beside the other, basking in one another's presence. The two direwolves knew it would be long before they saw one another again after Nymeria left with Lady and their Stark masters, alongside their father, for the capitol in the south.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

As the evening sun began to shine above the courtyard of Winterfell, the occupants of the castle bustled about as they prepared for the Warden of the North's leave.

Preparing to leave with his Uncle Benjen to the Wall, and join the Night's Watch, Jon Snow exited the stables, carrying his leather saddle upon his left shoulder, walking towards his awaiting black stallion.

Robb, with Rikson alongside him, had joined Jon in his path towards his stallion, Robb being the first to speak, "You've said goodbye to Bran? He's not going to die. I know it."

"You Starks are hard to kill." Jon remarked, with a smirk of amusement, followed by a snicker from Rikson as they arrived at Jon's stallion.

"Our mother?" Robb wondered, wanting to know if she was kind to the bastard she held such resentment towards. Jon sighed, though the boys didn't hear it, as he answered his half-brother, "She was very kind."

"Good." Robb said as Jon threw his saddle onto his stallion, tightening the leather straps around the horse's waist, as Rikson stroked the stallion's head, before he faced the pair of Stark brothers.

"Next time we see you, you'll be all in black." Robb remarked, with a smirk on his handsome face.

"It was always my color." Jon responded, his smirk mirroring his half-brother's.

Rikson, still caressing the black stallion's head, watched his brothers bring one another into a brotherly embrace for a moment. Releasing from their embrace, Robb patted Jon's shoulder before walking towards the gates of Winterfell to say farewell to his father.

Ghost approached the Stark from behind, nudging his snout into Rikson's hand, catching the boy's attention. Rikson bent down to caress the wolf's white fur.

"Take care of my brother, Ghost." Rikson whispered, low enough that Jon hadn't heard, as the boy continued to strap the leather saddle to his stallion. Ghost whimpered, licking Rikson's pale cheek, knowing he wasn't going to see the Stark for some time. Straightening himself, Rikson faced the bastard he had always seen as his brother, not his half-brother.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Jon sighed, glancing to his feet before shifting his gaze back to Rikson, "I am. I don't belong here, Riks." Rikson furrowed his brows in glum, wishing he could change his brother's mind about that, "You will always have a home in Winterfell, Jon." Jon huffed a laugh, "You always treated me like a Stark, Riks, I want to thank you for that."

"Don't start talking
like we won't ever see
one another again."

It was then that the boys close in age were overcome with the gut-wrenching feeling that they weren't going to see one another again. Bringing one another into a brotherly embrace, as they both hoped the sudden feeling that washed over them wasn't true.

Releasing from their embrace, Rikson spoke, "Farewell, Snow."

"And you, Stark."

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

After saying farewell to his father and sisters for the last time, as the evening sun shined upon Winterfell, Rikson found himself on the walls of the castle.

The secondborn of House Stark leaned his arms upon the stones of the walls, his azure gaze upon the mere specs in the distance before him.

His family and the Royal Family.

All riding towards the capitol of Westeros, King's Landing, a city many Starks have been known to never return from. Rikson would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't terrified for the fate of his family, the most precious thing to him.

He was terrified of what would happen to his father while he served as Hand of the King. He was terrified of what Prince Joffery may do to sweet Sansa. He was terrified that little Arya may loose her warrior's spirit in the city of thevies, liars, rapers, and murderers.

But mostly, Rikson was terrified of what would happen to his family as a whole.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible was waiting around the corner for House Stark. And he knew there wasn't anything he could do about the horrific events that awaited his family.

Alysanne, with her brother, Greywind, beside her, approached Rikson. Both of the direwolves releasing low whimpers for the anxious Stark before them. Rikson shifted his gaze away from the disappearing specs in the distance towards the direwolves.

"Winter is coming, my good wolf and Greywind,
and it will bring a darkness with it."

Alysanne whimpered, leaning herself against her Stark as he returned his gaze to the specs, as if he were a wolf watching over his pack, and Greywind laid himself down behind the Stark's legs. Rikson Stark and the direwolves remained in that spot upon the walls of Winterfell until the specs disappeared for good and the Wolf's moon began to rise into the night's sky with the stars adorning it.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Late in night when the Wolf's moon shone above Winterfell, some days after Lord Stark and his daughters had left the safety of the castle with the Royal Family to ride south to King's Landing, the Lion's den, the secondborn Stark found himself sitting inside of the library.

Alysanne laid underneath the table her Stark sat beside, her head placed upon his booted feet as her body relaxed to the sweet songs of the night.

The library of the ancient castle was quiet, as it always seemed to be, the silence only briefly interrupted whenever the Stark flipped a rough page, filled with black ink writing, in the book he were reading.

Rikson's crystals for eyes moved in a dance across the pages he read, the information the book offered sinking into his mind as if it were a bar of soap.

'Aegon the Conqueror brought FIRE AND
BLOOD TO WESTEROS, but afterward he
gave them PEACE, PROSPERITY,
AND JUSTICE.'

'QUEEN RHAENYS TARGARYEN, when
her brother Aegon began his conquest of the
Seven Kingdoms, Rhaenys sailed with him from Dragonstone. She were sent to secure the
submission of the castles nearby.'

'In 10 AC, at Hellholt a bolt from a scorpion pierced Meraxes through the eye. THE DRAGON FELL FROM THE SKY WITH RHAENYS ON
ITS BACK, destroying half the castle.'

The Northern night's wind caressed the stones of Winterfell, whispering it's words through the windows of the library, though the cold had never bothered Rikson, even when he were a young child.

The Stark of six-and-ten rested his head in the palm of his hand, his eyes continuing to swim across the waters of ink written across the page of the book dedicated to the years of peace, prosperity, and justice after Aegon I Targaryen's conquest. 

The library, only lightened by the singular candles upon the table Rikson sat beside, filled with the huff of displeasure from the direwolf when her Stark shifted his feet, resulting in her having to lift her head from it's previously comfortable position. Rikson's lips curved into a light grin, his gaze remaining on the book in front of him as he removed his hand from under his dimpled chin to caress his direwolf's head, receiving a content huff. Laying down, Alysanne returned her head to it's position on her Stark's booted feet, her rubies for eyes closing in content as her ears remained high in alert.

An hour began to pass, and the howling of the hounds inside of the kennels only increased in volume, though Rikson paid no mind to it, too engrossed into the book he was reading to give much thought towards it.

Quite abruptly, the black direwolf began to emit vicious growls, standing from her position to look towards one of the windows in the library.

The sound of growls emitting from the direwolf echoed across the liabry, surprising Rikson. As protective as the wolf was, he had never heard his sweet wolf produce such an aggressive sound towards anyone throughout her life. Standing from the wooden chair, Rikson followed the direwolf's line of sight, walking towards the window located towards the back of the old library.

"Fire..."

Ironically enough, the bells of alarm began to ring throughout Winterfell, signaling for the inhabitants to either hide inside of their rooms or run towards the chaos, the latter being the Stark and direwolf's choice. 

Sprinting through the halls of Winterfell, then arriving at the courtyard, Rikson was met with utter chaos.

An entire shack, housing weapons and armor for the guards of House Stark, was engulfed in bright orange and yellow flames. Guards were shouting orders left and right towards the panicked sightseers, who were of no help to the situation. And the hounds from the kennels were only adding to the loud, and slightly obnoxious, screams of the panicked woman who were, once again, of no help to the chaotic situation. 

Rikson's azure gaze landed on his elder brother, shouting towards a group of guards to gather buckets of water. He shouted his brother's name to gather his attention as he and Alysanne jogged towards him.

Robb turned towards his brother, "Riks, I need you to take a group to gather sand from the kitchens." Rikson responded with a firm nod, gaining the attention of a group of guards that had just run into the courtyard, "Follow me to the kitchens, we must gather buckets of sand before the fire worsens." The group of eight guards all responded with "Yes, My Lord", before following after the secondborn, with his black direwolf with ruby eyes alongside him.

Arriving at the kitchens in the castle, and unintentionally startling the cowering servants, the eight guards swiftly gathered all of the sand they could carry before running towards the courtyard on Rikson's orders. The Stark stayed behind to sooth the panicked servants, before he ran to the courtyard, as well, his direwolf remaining by his side.

Though, before the Stark could run outside of the castle's walls, his direwolf bit onto his sleeve, halting Rikson in his path as he turned towards her.

"Alysanne?"

The direwolf barked with urgency, urging her Stark to follow her, while beginning to run down the hallways of the castle, stopping at a corner to see if Rikson was indeed following her. Noticing he wasn't, she barked with more aggression, needing her Stark to follow her as she sensed something he couldn't. Glancing towards the archway that led into the outside world beyond the castle's walls, Rikson shook his head before running after his worried direwolf, trusting her instincts more than his own at the moment.

Alysanne ran through the halls of the castle, with her Stark behind her, leading him towards young Bran Stark's chambers, sensing Summer's worry.

Arriving at his chambers, Alysanne jumped onto the door and pawed at it with her front legs, leaving claw marks in the wood, as Rikson caught up to her. With his own worry for his family fueling him, Rikson slammed the locked door open within seconds.

"Mom!"

Rikson shouted in utter terror, mixed with rage, as he saw his mother struggle to throw an unknown man off of her from the floor, a dagger inches from her eye.

Springing into his fighting instincts, Rikson tackled the man off of his mother, and the two rolled before slamming into the stone walls of the chambers.

With his back ramming into the wall, Rikson's breath was stolen from him, though he swiftly regained himself, kicking the hooded man's stomach as he furiously rolled the man off of him, landing a punch to his face after he landed on the floor. The assassin unsheathed another dagger and swung it towards Rikson. The Stark rolled away from the weapon, but not fast enough as he was sliced across his left cheek, resulting in a yelp of pain escaping Rikson's lips. The assassin lunged himself onto Rikson, who laid on his back as the sudden wound had surprised him. Aiming his dagger above his head, the hooded man swung the dagger towards Rikson Stark's heart.

Though, Rikson caught the man's wrists before the sharp weapon lodged into his chest. Both of the mend arms shook as their strength equaled one another. But it seemed the assassin's strength outweighed Rikson's, as the dagger began to penetrate his clothes, then his skin, making the boy scream out in pain.

As soon as the dagger, followed by burning pain, entered his body, it had gone. Rikson then rolled away, worried the man would try to stab him again, but was quite relieved with the sight he was met with.

The direwolves, Alysanne and Summer, had tackled the assassin off of the Stark, biting into his neck and chest. Summer clawed at his chest, blood splurging from his chest and splattering onto Rikson's face. While Alysanne bit into the man's neck, his dark red blood curling around her snout as the man's gurgles and screams began to dissipate into silence.

Lady Stark had sat in a silenced worry, having only been able to watch as her son defended her and young Bran from the assassin and as the direwolves ripped into the man's chest and neck, her cut hands dripping with blood and running down her arms and staining her dark sea blue dress a deep crimson red.

Once the direwolves were assured the assassin, that had almost killed Lady Stark and Rikson, was dead, Summer licked Alysanne's head, before hopping onto young Bran's bed and laying beside him.

The somber whimper that came from the black direwolf, brought Catelyn's attention over to where Rikson had remained. She expected to see her son standing, but he wasn't.

Overcome with the loss of the adrenaline the fight had given him and exhaustion, Rikson had fallen into unconsciousness. A trail of blood leaked from the wound upon his left cheek, rolling across his nose and dripping onto the floor. As well as a pool of blood staining his shirt from where the dagger had penetrated his chest, near his heart. Catelyn released a sob while standing on her shaky legs, then she rushed over to the unconscious body of her son, falling to her knees beside him.

"Riky, my beautiful boy..."

Her son remained unresponsive when she shook him, resulting in another sob falling from her lips as she brought Rikson's head into her lap, caressing his locks of wavy brunette hair, that appeared dirty blonde whenever the sun shone upon his soft locks. The blood that leaked from Lady Stark's sliced palms began to drip onto Rikson's hair as she continued to run her hands through his soft locks, staining his dark brunette hair with crimson blood, that Catelyn knew he would complain about when he awoke.

The salty tears that fell from the Lady's Tully eyes landed on Rikson's cheeks, mixing with his own blood and the assassin's. Although she knew none of her sweet boy's wounds were fatal, a mother will always worry over her children.

Alysanne whimpered while laying beside her Stark, placing her head on his rising and falling chest. The scent of his blood and the Lady's tears filled her nose, resulting in more worried whines escaping her.

Rushed footsteps began to sound outside of Bran's chambers, stealing Lady Catelyn's attention. Turning her head of Tully hair to face whoever had entered the room, her eyes filled with more tears, though relieved tears, when her eldest son stood inside of the wooden doorway of the chambers.

"Robb!"

"Mother, are you-Riks!"

Noticing his unconscious brother in his mother's lap, blood leaking from his cheek and a pool of more blood on his shirt, Robb sprinted towards them, sliding to his knees beside his mother.

"Riks? Rikson?"

Robb desperately shook his brother, who continued to remain unresponsive, Rikson's limp head falling to the side as his body had no control over it's actions. With tears of worry filling his eyes, Robb faced his mother, "How?" Catelyn shifted her gaze towards the mutilated corpse of the assassin that laid not some two feet from where she kneeled, cradling her unconscious son. Robb, now noticing, the mauled man, slightly grimaced at the brutal sight of blood pooled around the assassin's body with his torso and neck completely torn open from the direwolves' claws and teeth.

Though worry for his brother consumed him, once more, therefore Robb gently ushered his mother and the direwolf away from Rikson before he took his brother into his arms, with little effort as Rikson wasn't very heavy for a boy of his stature.

"I will take Riks to Maester Luwin, mother.. though
you should come, as well, for your hands. I'll have guards posted outside of Bran's chambers."

Although she still worried there was another assassin lurking around the corner, Lady Stark tiredly nodded her head of Tully hair. Her gaze landed on her sweet Rikson limply laying in his brother's arms, bringing fresh tears to her eyes, though they did not fall, as Catelyn followed her eldest out of young Bran's chambers, knowing the wolves would protect him, and towards Maester Luwin's bed-and-healing chambers.

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