𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞
_________________

____ Cloaked by the white shroud of clouds, the sun shone brightly above the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros whilst the hours of mid-day passed above the cold lands of the Northern Kingdom.

A few days had passed since the youngest brother of the Queen rode through the gates of Winterfell, and the news of Lady Stark's capturing of the young Lannister had spread quicker than Wildfire.

Now, inside of the training yard in the stoneware castle, the thunk of an arrow landing on it's straw target echoed across the yard, floored by light-brown sand that gleamed a cream color as the sun glimmered upon it.

The arrogant boy of House Greyjoy held a bow in his grasp as he loaded another arrow onto the string, as his cocky smirk grew with every target he hit. Sitting at the dark-wooden table behind the Ward, the Lord of Winterfell's bright, river blue, eyes stared into the nothingness of air as his handsome expression held a tense thoughtfulness. Robb had been shocked by the news of his mother's capturing of Lord Tyrion, wondering what she had been thinking when she arrested the Queen's brother. Whilst the secondborn son of House Stark sat upon the sturdy wooden fence beside the yard, a thoughtful expression on his handsome features, as well, as his hands fumbled with the other on his lap.

The continuous thunks the arrows made as they lodged into the straw targets, lined against the stone walls that surrounded both the yard and all of the castle, were a calming sound to Rikson as his thoughts danced around his jumbled mind. Fortunately, the clinking of the Maester's chains echoed across the training yard as he walked into the yard. Though, the grim look on his aged features did nothing to ease the Starks of their worries.

Maester Luwin approached the table the Lord of Winterfell sat beside before handing him the letter of parchment in his hand, bringing only grim news with it from the capital in the South.

"What is it?" Robb's voice was laced in his Northern accent as he spoke, though the aged Maester only sighed and nodded towards the letter, gaining the Greyjoy boy's attention as he dropped his bow on the ground, earning an eye roll from Rikson at his disregard for the weapon.

The secondborn's blue eyes, that resembled the magical ice that made up the Wall, watched as his brother unfurled the letter and began reading it. Soon enough, his brother's expression morphed from confusion into an anger he had only seen on his brother's features few times. Therefore, wondering what had made his usually calm brother so angry, Rikson hopped down from the fence and walked towards his fuming brother, taking the letter into his grasp as his eyes skimmed across the black ink written words from the South.

To the Lord of Winterfell,

The Starkmen that followed Lord Stark to King's Landing have been slain, all of them, as a spear was lodged into Lord Stark's leg, as repayment for Lady Stark wrongfully imprisoning the Queen's youngest brother. Jamie Lannister demands his brother's release, and to have him escorted to Casterly Rock, unharmed, where his brother has rode to after attacking Lord Stark and his men. Free the Imp, or suffer the consequences

The Maester of King's Landing

"Lannister filth..." The secondborn mumbled as he tossed the piece of parchment onto the table, avoiding looking towards the letter as he despised the words, that leaked the horrible news, written across it.

"What did it say?" Theon questioned as his brows furrowed, utterly confused on what could have caused the Stark boys to become so angry about.

"The Kingslayer killed the men that followed our father to King's Landing before driving a spear into his leg, as repayment for mother capturing Tyrion."

Now, anger was spread across all of the boys' expressions after the eldest had explained the contents of the letter from the South. Rikson was silently seething in rage, placing his hands on his hips and closing his eyes as his chest heaved with his heavy breaths of anger.

"Well, what are you going to do about? You can't stand for this.. treachery!" Theon said, his voice rising in tone towards the end of his sentence.

He may act like he doesn't care about the Starks, the House that took him from the Iron Islands and his family, but the Greyjoy did care for the Starks, most of them, anyway. Eddard had always treated Theon like a son of his, he gave the boy everything he needed whilst he grew into a man. Theon, always too proud to admit it, loved Eddard Stark as his own father. Therefore, the young Greyjoy wanted revenge against the Lannisters for what they had done.

"... I don't know, Theon. But we
can't tell Bran, or Rickon."

"What do you mean, 'you don't know'? Robb, we must go to war!" Theon all but shouted, though, he was not angry at Robb Stark. "We can't go to war against the Lannisters, Theon, the King is bloody married to one!" Robb shouted as his stood from the seat he were sat in, his hands leaning against the table as the boys were angry not at each other but at the Lannisters.

"Enough!" The shout from the secondborn immediately halted the boys' argument, but the tension in the air could still be cut through with a sword. Rikson leaned his hands on the table as his icy gaze stared at the boys, whom both swore they saw the eyes of a direwolf staring into their own as he spoke, "This bickering is pointless, if anything the Lannisters would want it. Robb, we must remain smart about this. And Theon, we do not get along let alone agree on anything, but we will get revenge for what they have done to our father."

Robb knew his younger brother better than anyone, he would know what he was feeling with just a simple look shared between them. Therefore, the eldest knew his brother was beyond enraged at the news, but for Rikson Stark, of all people in Westeros, to show patience towards the situation that placed itself on their shoulders, showed how he and everyone must remain patient and smart about what to do in retaliation against the Lannisters.

The Greyjoy sighed as he stepped away from the table, running his gloved hand through his auburn hair as he tried to calm himself. Robb sighed as he dropped his head, wishing the weight upon his shoulders that increased by the day would lighten even in the slightest as he felt as if the fate of the whole world was placed in his hands. Rikson closed his eyes as he released a breath, clenching his fists on the edges of the wooden table before releasing his grip, though keeping his hands leaned against the table as he shuffled through his jumbled mind on any ideas on what to do.

The elderly Maester, having been standing idly by as he watched the boys, he had been beside since they were born, or in Theon's case a young boy, with his aged eyes, spoke up, "I bring other news."

The boys were afraid of receiving more bad news, therefore Robb, without speaking, gestured for the Maester to continue on, "The saddler has finished Bran's saddle."

All three of the boys, noticeably, relaxed their tense postures as they savored the pleasant news.

"Tell Hodor to get Bran, we'll
meet them at the stables."

The Maester respectfully bowed his head before he exited the training yard, his numerous chains clinking against one another as he walked away on his aged limbs. The boys were still beyond angry at the news they had received from the capital, but for the sake of sweet Bran, whom had barely any joy in his life since his fall, they put on joyous, joyful as could be, expressions as they met the young Stark at the stables.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

In the Wolfswood, beyond the walls of Winterfell, a joyous yell from young Bran Stark echoed across the green forest as his pony, Dancer, trotted in a circle around two large rocks, where his eldest brothers and the Greyjoy sat, keeping a protective eye on the joyous boy.

"Come on, Dancer!" The joyous Stark shouts, telling his pony to jump into a gallop, whom does so as he picks up his pace. The brothers of the young Stark smile, almost forgetting about the letter from the South... almost... as Robb says, "Not too fast."

The green leaves on the branches of the tall trees with white bark, that surrounded the clearing the Starks and the Greyjoy were in, danced with the whistling breeze as the Northern birds sang their songs.

"When are you gonna tell him?" The Greyjoy said, breaking the happy moment. "Not now, Theon." Rikson said, his voice low as he rolled his eyes, keeping them on his brother, protectively watching the young boy as he rode his pony.

"Blood for blood. You both need to makes the Lannisters pay for Jory and the others."

Robb joined in on the conversation as he said, "You're talking about war."

"I'm talking about justice." Theon was quick to respond, an urency for revenge on his features as he shifted his gaze away from the secondborn and towards the eldest as he said,

"Only the Lord of Winterfell
can call in the bannermen
and raise an army."

"A Lannister put his spear through your
father's leg. The Kingslayer rides for Casterly
Rock where no one can touch him-"

"You want my brother to
march on Casterly Rock?"

Rikson turned his protective gaze away from his brother as he turned his head of wavy hair, the tips flowing with the breeze, towards Theon.

"They attacked your father, Rikson. They've already started the war. It's Robb's duty to represent
your House when your father can't."

Rikson's handsome features held a blank expression as his eyes stared at the Greyjoy, letting his words sink in, before he responds, "And it's not your duty, because it's not your House."

Theon would never admit it aloud, or to himself, but the words from the secondborn stung inside of him as he tried to withhold the hurt expression from morphing onto his features. Fortunately for the hurt Greyjoy, the Starks' attention was diverted towards the, oddly, silent forest around them as the birds chirped from the tree branches.

Their eyes traveled across the forest as they stood from the rocks they sat on. A dense fog was shrouded above the grass as the sun's rays peeked through the thick trees. The winds whistled across the air as the birds continued to sing.

"Where's Bran?" Robb asked with a blanket of worry on his handsome features.

Theon stood from the rock he were sat on, an expression of worry hinting across his features before his face blanked itself of emotion as he said, "Don't know. It's not my House." The Greyjoy walked away as the worried brothers decided to walk in separate directions to find their missing brother in the vast forest around them.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

The sound of a horse's hooves stomping across the floors of the forest followed Dancer as he walked through the Wolfswood, with the young Stark sitting on his back. The young Stark had ventured from the clearing, not entirely thinking on the consequences of his actions, as his joy to be on a horse excited him and sparked the curious side within his curious mind.

Crossing a small stream, Dancer began to nicker in nervousness as his ears twitched towards the sound of soft footsteps approaching him from behind. Though, the young Stark thought nothing of it as his pony trotted onwards, turning his head towards each piece of art in the Wolfswood he saw. Coming across a patch in the forest surrounded by bushes of ferns, the trees becoming dense as the sun shone through the leaves, Dancer began to panic as the footsteps increased in sound.

"Robb.. Riky?"

The pony whinnied as a hand grabbed onto his reins, keeping the spooked horse in place, as she stroked her hand down his white head, calming him as three men surrounded the horse on each side excepting his rear end, knowing the power of a horse's kick. The woman, with a heap of messy brunette hair on her head as she stood hunched over, spoke in a voice that sent chills down the young Stark's spine, "All alone in the deep, dark woods."

Looking around him in fear of the situation he found himself in, Bran took notice of the three men surrounding Dancer as another man came from behind the woman, standing bedside her. Then, Bran spoke in a voice that would make one think he weren't afraid, even though he were, "I'm not alone. My brothers are with me."

"I don't see 'em." The man, with messy black hair and disturbinginly piercing blue eyes, standing next to the woman, said. "Got them hidden under your cloak?"

"Ooh, that's a pretty pin.. silver." The woman said, pointing towards the Stark pin on the boy's cloak, resulting in young Bran covering up the pin of a direwolf head with his gloved hand.

"We'll take the pin and the horse." The man stroked his hand down Dancer's neck with a sickening smile, the horse flinching at the cold contact, as he continued, "Get down."

Noticing the boy weren't moving down from the horse, his smile faded as he said, "Be quick about it, boy!"

With his voice trembling, "I-I can't. The saddle, the straps." One of the three men surrounding the horse approached the young boy and, roughly, yanked his large cloak away from his leg, showing the straps that held the boy onto the saddle. "What's wrong with you?" The same man asked, before the one standing next to the woman continued on, "You some kind of cripple?"

With a spark of courage igniting inside of him, Bran shouted, his voice carrying across the forest, "I'm Brandon Stark of Winterfell! If you don't let me be, I'll have you all killed!" The skinny man, that had shoved away his cloak, unsheathed his dagger, placing it on Bran's inner thigh as he said, "Cut his little cock off and stuff it in his mouth." The other man began to use his dagger to cut the straps off of the boy's leg as the woman said, "The boy's worth nothing dead. Benjen Stark's own blood? Think what Mance would give us." Cutting off the leather strap on the young boy's thigh, unintentionally, slicing his dagger across the boy's leg, whom didn't even wince as he couldn't feel anything below his waist, the man turned towards the woman,

"Piss on Mance Rayder and piss on the North.
We're going as far south as South goes. There
ain't no White Walkers down in Dorne."

From behind the ruthless Wildlings surrounding his defenseless younger brother with daggers in their grasps, the Midnight Wolf, with an ice that could send chills down even a White Walker's spine, unsheathed his Valyrian steel sword as he said, "Drop the knife, you Wildling scum!"

The Wildling beside his brother hissed towards the Midnight Wolf, whom lowly growled as one of the men charged towards him, releasing a cry in battle.

The Wolf, predicting the ruthless Wildling's attack, rolled beneath the dull axe, kneeling on one of his knees as his sword plunged into the heart of the disgusting man's, instantly killing him.

The Wildling beside Dancer, opposite of the remaining Wildlings, fled from the scene, running in the direction of the South as the woman rushed towards the Wolf, her one-sided axe held high above her head, though, before she could plunge the weapon into the Wolf's back, he turned and sliced his sword across the woman's bicep before he kicked her in the stomach, knocking her to the floor of the forest as she laid there, coughing.

The Wolf raised his sword, ready to kill the dirty Wildling woman beneath him, before a cry released from behind him. Swiftly turning, he leapt backwards as his sword slapped away the Wildling's blade, the weapon landing on the dirt with a steel-thump. Now defenseless, the Wolf didn't hesitate to plunge his sword deep into the man's stomach, whom fell to his knees with a look of fear in his eyes as his clutched the sword of death with his bloodied hands, looking into the Wolf's eyes with a silent pleading.

"Every last one of you..." The Midnight Wolf muttered before swiftly removing the sword from the Wildling's stomach, blood spluttering from the mark of death, before the Wolf cut off the man's head in a swift and flawless motion. Unbeknownist to the commotion arousing behind him, the Wolf turned towards the woman, whom had caught her breath as she gazed up at the man before her, chills running down her spine at his icy gaze. The Midnight Wolf took a clutch of her hair into his gloved hand as he yanked her onto her knees, ready to slice her throat before a small voice croaked, "Riky!"

Brought out of his raged-consumed slaughter, Rikson turned his head towards the voice of his younger brother, his chest heaving with his heavy pants of anger, his eyes landing upon the sight of the last Wildling holding a dagger to his brother's throat.

"Riky!"

"Shut up." The Wildling glanced towards the young boy, before he lifted his gaze towards the Wolf holding his friend by her hair, whom whimpered from the man's harsh grip, "Drop the blade!"

"No, don't." Young Bran spoke in a choked whimper, staring into his brother's eyes as the grip around his throat tightened. "Do it!" The Wildling demanded.

Rikson's eyes danced between his defenseless brother, the boy he would always protect, and the Wildling, whose kind he killed with every chance he got, before letting his blood-soaked sword fall to the dirt, though he kept his tight hold around the Wildling's hair, whom squirmed underneath his grip.

Quite abruptly, the thunk of an arrow lodging into skin resonated across the tense air. The Wildling released his hold on the young Stark, falling to the floors of forest with an arrow sticking out of his heart, revealing Theon Greyjoy with a bow in his grasp behind him with Robb Stark at his side.

Now, with his chest, lightly, heaving, the secondborn blinked away his shock of the scene that had just occurred before him, shoving the Wildling to the ground as he, swiftly, walked towards his brother, bending down beside him as his hand hovered over the wound on his leg, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, it doesn't hurt, Riky." Bran said, his older brother taking him into his arms as he stood from the dirt.

The voice of the Greyjoy filled the air as he stood above the Wildling, aiming an arrow at her head, while Robb came to stand beside his brothers, "Tough little lad. In the Iron Islands, you're not a man until you've killed your first enemy... well done." Rikson glanced around at the Wildlings he had slain, his brother wrapping his arms around his neck as he laid his head on his shoulder, feeling safe in his brother's arms, before a horrored expression morphs onto the secondborn's features as his gaze lands on the Wildling with an arrow in his heart, "Have you lost your mind, Theon? What if you'd missed?" The Greyjoy, almost letting himself believe the Stark would be thankful for his rescue, lifted his head towards Rikson as he defended himself, "He would have killed you and cut Bran's throat."

"You don't have the right-"

"To what, to save your brother's
life? It was the only thing to
do, so I did it."

Rikson huffed as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the Greyjoy were right, though he would never tell him that. His eyes then shifted towards the Wildling woman as his older brother beside him said, "What about her?" The woman glanced up as she realized the attention was drawn onto her. She breathed in fear as she glanced between the loathsome gaze of the Wolf, sending shivers down her spine, the Greyjoy that sinisterly grinned towards her as he tightened his hold on his bow, and the Lord of Winterfell that seemed to be the calmest of the boys, therefore, she cupped her hands before her head as she begged the Lord, "Give me my life, My Lord, and I'm yours."

With a troubled expression of thoughtfulness on his features, Robb glanced towards his younger brother, knowing of the distaste he held for the Wildlings after what they did to his Addy, then to his crippled brother, nuzzled in Rikson's strong arms, and he made his choice, "We'll keep her alive."The Wildling released a sigh of relief as she fell on her hands, Theon removed the arrow from his bow as he picked the woman up by her arm and began leading her towards Winterfell.

Rikson huffed, knowing his older brother's eyes were upon him. Not wanting to argue about such a matter in front of the already frightened Bran, Rikson let it be as he and Robb walked some distance behind Theon.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Inside the walls of Winterfell, in the thirdborn son's chambers, Maester Luwin tended to the little Lord's wound as the secondborn leaned against the stone wall near the window, gazing at the lands beyond the walls, his eyes holding a faraway look in them as the tips of his brunette hair flew with the breeze.

The black & cream direwolves, Alysanne and Summer, laid beside the young Stark on the bed as the Maester finished stitching the small wound, that didn't cause young Bran any pain as he couldn't feel it. Giving the young boy a small smile, the elderly Maester glanced towards the other Stark as he stood from the bed, whom didn't even seem to notice the movement as he were lost in his own world, before he left the chambers.

The fire cracked against the wood as it's shadows danced across the stones, the direwolves occasionally huffing as they repositioned themselves, before the young Stark turned his head towards his brother as he said, "Riky?"

Rikson blinked as he turned his head, of wavy hair that reached his shoulders, towards his younger brother, whom continued on, "Why do you-..." The Stark interrupts himself, wondering if he should ask his brother what he really wanted to ask.

Rikson creased his brows in confusion, mixed with concern, as he pushed himself from the wall and sat beside his brother. The direwolves immediately flocked to the secondborn's side, whom took a moment to caress both of their heads before turning his attention towards his brother, "Why do I what?"

"... Why do you hate the Wildlings?"

Rikson deeply inhaled and exhaled a breath of Northern air.

The only people who knew what truly happened beyond the Wall a year ago, why the Midnight Wolf had slaughtered a village of Wildlings, were Ned and Catelyn Stark alongside Maester Luwin and Robb and Jon. Rikson didn't even want his sweet sisters to know he had slaughtered a village of Wildlings, so when they found out he would always avoid the subject or derive away from it whenever they brought it up. Little Rickon didn't know, and Rikson intended to keep it that way, but young Bran had found out from Theon when he was helping him with archery some months ago, though the Greyjoy didn't mean to tell him it had just slipped out. Another reason the Stark could barely tolerate the Greyjoy.

Bran was a smart boy for his age, and Rikson knew he were going to find out one way or another on why he had truly killed the Wildlings.

In truth, Rikson was hesitant to tell his brother why he had killed the Wildlings, not because he simply didn't want the boy to know, but because it pained him to relive those horrid memories, especially when he talked about them.

Though, not seeing a downside to his brother knowing the truth, Rikson inhaled a deep breath before he spoke, "Do you remember Adryana?" Bran nodded, memories of the sweet auburn haired girl that had the voice of a bellchime and the eyes of a green flower entering his mind. He never knew what happened to the Snow, he just thought things between her and his brother faded into nothing and she remained in Karhold with her father.

"And do you remember when
I disappeared for a month?"

Once again, Bran nodded, remembering how sad he had been when his parents told him, and his siblings, of the news a year ago in the Great Hall. The young Stark didn't go a day without thinking of, and missing, his brother as he were gone.

"Addy and I had chosen to marry one another
the day before we left Winterfell."

Bran smiled at the news, "I always thought you two would, Riky." Rikson only gave his brother a small smile in somber, beginning to stroke his hand through Summer's fur to calm himself, his heart already squeezing at having to relive the memories of his sweet Addy.

"We rode beyond the Wall and we stayed
there for quite some time. One night, a group
of Wildlings ambushed me in the woods, and one
of them managed to knock me out before I
could ki-.. deal with them."

The Stark then clenched his jaw as his fist curled around a patch of Summer's creamy fur, though he made sure as not to hurt the sweet direwolf, as he released a shaky breath. And his younger brother's expression dropped into sorrow when he noticed his brother's telltale signs of distress, "Riky-"

"No, it's alright, Bran.. you
deserve to know. You were
Addy's favorite."

Bran softly smiled at that, as his brother continued, "The Wildlings did terrible things to her before they-... before they killed her." Rikson's voice cracked at the end of his sentence, though he cleared his throat as he struggled to remain strong in front of his brother.

The soft gasp from his younger brother made Rikson's heart squeeze in sorrow as he turned his head away from him, knowing how close they had been.

Yet, Bran refused to let his tears fall, knowing it was taking all of his strength for his brother to remain strong in front of him as he shoulders shook with every shaky breath he took. Therefore he decided it wouldn't be fair if he needed to comfort him when it was clear Rikson was far from over his wife's death.

"Then you killed the Wildlings?" Bran asked in a soft voice, though knowing the answer. Rikson's handsome features voided themselves of any and all emotion, turning his head towards his brother, as he spoke in a soft voice, "Every last one of them..."

Even though Bran knew his reasoning was justifiable, the emptiness his brother seemed to feel towards his slaughter of a village, slightly, unnerved him. Though, what Bran didn't realise, is that Rikson's slaughter of the village didn't make him feel empty... it haunted him in the hours of the night, in the forms of nightmares, and the day, in the form of memories.

Seeing the expression on his brother's face, knowing he had unnerved him with the void of emotion in his voice some seconds ago, Rikson cleared his throat, licking his lips, before patting Bran's leg, though he winced as he remembered Bran couldn't feel it.

"... Sorry."

Bran, lightly, chuckled as his brother, "It's alright, I sometimes forget too. Today I did for awhile." Rikson sadly grinned, "I know, little lord, today I forgot about everything that worries me for awhile."

Realizing his brother would want to rest after the scare he had earlier, Rikson stood from the bed, receiving a huff of displeasure from Summer as he was quite comfortable laying next to the secondborn.

Though, before he could walk to far, Bran said, "Riky?" Rikson turned his body halfway, looking towards his brother with a curious glint in his crystals for eyes, "Hmm?"

"Would you kill the Wildling
girl, Robb spared, if you were
given the chance to?"

Rikson creased his brows in thought, but he never gave his brother an answer, just said, "Get some rest, little lord." Before he walked out of his chambers with Alysanne at his side, closing the door behind him.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Inside one of the courtyards in Winterfell, containing straw-made dummys used to practice hits with a sword on and racks filled with dull swords lining the stonemade walls, the thrashing of a sword cutting through the air before landing upon one of the dummys filled the Northern air. The sky casting a gloomy tone upon the cold lands blanketed the North, whilst a light rain fell from the clouds, landing on the damp grass of the hills that made up the majority of the North. No birds chirped their beautiful songs as the critters sheltered themselves in their dens located in the vast forests, hiding from the light squall. The rain dripped down the stones that made up the walls of Winterfell, whilst dampening the wooden made structures inside of the castles walls, the scent of damp wood and grass filling the air as an echo of distant thunder rolled over the hills.

Alysanne, with her dark fur drenched in the water from the clouds and her ears drooping downwards, watched her Stark with her rubies for eyes. The direwolf could sense the frustration from her Stark, his feelings spreading across their Warg bond like the Targaryen's Wildfire, as he continued to thrash his sword, Wrath, against one of the dummys.

Rikson's hair was damp from the rain, the water from the tips of his locks dripping down his clothes, only for the water to be thrown from him with every swift hit he made with his sword against the dummy.

The Stark needed to release the anger he had hidden away throughout the long day.

He was angry at the Lannisters for harming his father and killing the men that followed him to the capital. His was angry at the idea of what the Lannisters were doing to his sweet sisters in the capital. His was angry at his father for leaving him and his family, and the safety of their home, for some fat and lazy King that destroyed a whole dynasty simply because he couldn't get what he wanted. He was angry at his mother for leaving him and his brothers at Winterfell when they needed her most. He was angry at the Wildlings that had almost killed his crippled, and defenseless, brother. He was angry at having to relive the memories of what those savages did to his sweet Addy, and everything he did in a selfish act of revenge.

The Stark continuously thrashed his sword across the straw dummy as every thought that angered him crossed his mind, not even realizing as the dummy began to tear at the seams.

Unaware of the pair of worried eyes upon him, the Stark released a frustrated yell as the dummy broke beneath the strength of his Valyrian steel sword and the power beneath his thrashes. Throwing Wrath to the rain soaked ground, Rikson leaned his back on one of the walls, not entirely caring about the cold or the rain seeping into his clothes, as he sunk to the ground, covering his face with his hands.

Not being able to stand the sight before him any longer, his brother walked from underneath the viewing balcony that overlooked the yard as he approached his brother, his brunette hair sticking to his head as the rain began to blanket him.

"Riks?"

The secondborn lifted his head from his hands, his knees pulled to his chest, as his tears combined with the rain sliding down his pale cheeks. Robb's heart painfully squeezed at the pitiful sight of his brother crying into his hands in the rain before him.

Rikson Stark rarely ever cried, especially outside of his private chambers, therefore Robb knew his brother was overly stressed and worried about his family to be crying out in the open like he were.

Robb approached his brother and slid to the ground beside him, not caring about the dampness of the floors beneath him as he were more concerned for his brother rather than his appearance. Alysanne and Greywind walked towards their Starks, the black wolf laying beside her Stark as she placed her head in between his knees and chest, on his lap, as Greywind placed his head on the Stark's knees.

The eldest wrapped his arm around the secondborn's shoulders, whom leaned into his brother's embrace, as he let his emotions run loose, knowing his brother would never judge him for being human.

Then, moments later, Rikson inhaled a shaky breath before he removed his hands from his face, wiping away the last of his tears, that blended with the rain on his cheeks, the only sign of his crying being the slight redness on the tip of his nose.

Robb, with his arm still on his brother's shoulders, spoke up, "Are you alright, Riks? I'm worried about you." Rikson crossed his arms on his knees, Greywind removing his head from them as he opted to laying his head on his own Stark's legs, as Rikson placed his chin on his arms, releasing a tired sigh.

"I'm just so.. frustrated, Robb. I'm conflicted about what to do against the Lannisters for what they did
to father. I'm angry at mom for leaving us when we needed her, especially little Rickon. And those fucking Wildlings.. they were going to kill Bran. Take away his life like they had any right to... I hate them! But most of all I'm just so-.. tired, of all this worry that I can't seem to shake no matter what I do."

Robb softly sighed, low enough that his brother did not hear, as he began to softly rub his hand in circles on his brother's back. Robb was always the sweetest when it came to the Stark children, he always cared about his family and how they were faring.

He had the softness of a Tully, that much was certain, but he also had the strength of a true Stark. As did Rikson Stark, even if he didn't feel as though he had any strength at the moment.

"All will be alright, Riks, it has to be. You
can't let these worries, however reasonable they
are, consume you... I don't want anything to
happen to you, Riks, not now or ever."

Rikson softly smiled a closed-lip smile, though he didn't turn towards his brother, as he said, "Nothing is going to happen to me, Robb. I'll never abandon this family as I did a year ago. I know I wasn't the best son or brother in the past, but you and Sansa and Jon and Arya, Bran, and Rickon, mom and father are the most precious things to me." Then, Rikson turned his head towards his brother, a true wolf in his eyes as he said, "I will protect my family, no matter the cost."

Robb smirked, proud of his brother, "I know you will, Riks, as will I... just remember you aren't alone in this world, you can always come to me, you know I would never judge you for anything, ever." The secondborn nodded with a small smile on his lips, "I know."

The squall continued to fall from the clouds, landing upon the brothers' hair, alongside the direwolves' fur, the patter of the rain landing on the lands below it calming the Starks before Robb spoke up, "Now can we get out of this rain before we catch a cold?"

Rikson chuckled, nodding his head of dripping wet brunette hair, before the brothers stood and began to walk inside of the castles warm walls, with their direwolves behind them.

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