𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬
________________

____ The bright sun of the hours in the dawn casts it's golden hues upon the Tower of the Twins, the Trident shimmering beneath the horizon as it's petite waves gently ripple together in a delicate song of soothing waters. The Twin Towers on a white field, the banner of House Frey, dance with the rivers breeze as the cawing of a raven echoes throughout the Maester's chambers, before the black bird flaps it's wings as it glides from the window, a cream parchment tied to it's leg as it flies from the Towers.

The whistle of an arrow cuts through the winds, before the wood itself lodges into the bird's feathers, the creature falling from the sky and landing on the grass with a dull thud.

The Greyjoy boy walks towards the raven, setting his bow on the soft grass as he unties the letter from the bird's leg, before standing from the grass, his blue eyes drifting across the Northern army standing some distance from the Twin Towers, his friend and his brother standing at the head of the army, with their mother, Ser Rodrik and Lord Umber beside them.

Theon, having picked up his bow from the ground, walked towards the Stark brothers, placing the, rather small, letter into Robb Stark's outstretched hand. The arrogant Greyjoy, then, smirked at the secondborn Stark with a raise of his brows, earning a roll of icy eyes from Rikson Stark, not in the mood for the intolerable Greyjoy's arrogance.

I could've Warged into that bird, or slipped one of the men's shafts through it's eye, Rikson thought to himself, looking to the sky, as his brother read the letter, before speaking,

"It's a nameday message to his
grandniece, Walda."

"Or so Walder Frey would have you think." Rikson responded, still looking at the sky above them, finding a tranquility inside of him as he stared at his more favored hour of the days in Westeros. 

Everything falls like the sun.. and only the strongest rise once more, Rikson thought to himself.

It was Lady Stark that spoke up next, "Keep shooting them down." The Greyjoy boy nodded, as she continued, "We can't risk Lord Walder sending word of your movements to the Lannisters." Robb removed his Tully gaze from the looming Twin Towers before them, and onto his mother, "He's grandfather's bannerman.. we can't expect his support?"

"Expect nothing of Walder Frey, and you'll never be surprised." Lord Umber spoke from where he stood beside Ser Rodrik, having known the repulsive and elderly Frey for many years.. too many.

"Look." The secondborn spoke, his eyes removing themselves from the golden sky and onto the stallions trotting towards the army, the unmistakable banners of House Frey swaying with the wind, held by the men sitting upon the horses. Looking towards the approaching men of House Frey, Robb spoke up, "Our father rots in a dungeon... how long before the Lannisters take his head? We need to cross the Trident, and we need to do it now."

"Just march up to his gates and tell him you're crossing.. you've got five times his numbers, you
can take the Twins if you have to, Robb."

The Greyjoy's statement was followed by another from Lord Umber, "Not in time.. Tywin marches north as we speak."

"The Freys have held the crossing for 600 years, and for 600 years they have never failed to exact their toll." Lady Stark spoke. A silence of thought passed over the Lords and Lady, before the eldest of the Starks' voice spoke up, once more, "Have my horse ready." Lord Umber, turning away from the Twin Towers and towards the eldest Stark, immediately responded, "Enter the Twins alone and Walder'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes."

"Or he'll throw you in a dungeon." Theon spoke, followed by Rikson, "Or slit your throat."

The secondborn could see the small hint of defeat inside of his brother's eyes, whom felt out of options to secure the crossing of the Trident, as he spoke, "Our father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing.. whatever it took. If I'm going to lead this army, I can't have other men doing my bargaining for me." Lady Catelyn nodded her head of auburn Tully hair, her river blue eyes staring at the approaching Frey men, "I agree... I'll go."

"You can't!"

"Mother!"

The Greyjoy boy and the Stark brothers spoke at once, swiftly turning their heads towards Lady Stark, whom defended, "I have known Lord Walder since I was a young girl.. he would never harm me."

"Unless there was a profit in it." Lord Umber spoke.

A silence, then, fell over the Lords and Lady before the stallions halted themselves before the army, the Frey men observing the Northerners before Lady Stark announced she sought an audience with Lord Frey, the men nodding their heads, therefore, Lady Stark mounted her mare and rode away from the army, her sons watching her with worried eyes.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

The sun of the dawn had risen towards it's peek of the day in Westeros, the brown mare of Lady Stark riding through the Northern army's encampment. The banners of House Stark, alongside the banners of the Houses sworn to the Starks, swayed with the gentle breeze that left kisses of the cold breath of the nearing winter upon the Northerners, whom went about their morning in the, rather small, camp, filled with gray tents spread across the pine green grass. Lady Stark pulled the reigns of her mare, resulting in the horse halting itself outside of the tent where she heard Lord Umber's voice, knowing her sons would be in the tent, as well. Her aged features held a tense thoughtfulness, as she walked towards the tent, knowing how her sons were going to react to the terms of crossing the Trident.. neither were going to like the terms much.

"... if we do that, they'll never get back across." Lord Umber's voice rang through the tent just as Lady Stark walked into it, coming to stand beside Ser Rodrik as her sons, the Greyjoy boy, and Lord Umber stood, the Lord and Greyjoy bowing their heads in respect to the Lady of their Lord. Anxious on the thought of the demands from Lord Frey, the eldest of the Stark brothers spoke up, "Well?.. What did he say?"

"Lord Walder has granted your crossing."

A noticeable relief filled the eldest of the Starks as his shoulders slumped, though, he still held himself tense, knowing Lord Frey's demands were about to be everything but pleasant.

"His men are yours, as well.. less the four-hundred
he will keep here to hold the crossing against
any who would pursue you."

"And what does he want in return?" Robb responded.

"In Lord Walder's words, the Midnight Wolf will be taking on his son, Olyvar, as his squire.. and he
expects a Knighthood in good time."

Rikson Stark rolled his eyes, dreading the thought of some kid he didn't know, nor necessarily want, riding beside him in battle, a bloody nuisance more like, he bitterly thought to himself. But the Midnight Wolf accepted the term, swallowing his pride for his dear sweet sister and father trapped in the Lion's jaws, "Alright.. and?"

"And Arya will wed his son, Waldron,
when they both come of age."

Rikson and Robb snickered, the secondborn saying, "Little Wolf won't be happy about that." If she comes home, that is, the secondborn, sadly, thought. When their mother did not smile as a somber thoughtfulness dotted her aged features, her boys creased their brows as the eldest spoke, "And?"

Lady Catelyn looked her eldest in the eyes, releasing a small breath before speaking," And.. when the fighting is done... you will marry one of his daughters. Whichever you prefer, he has a number he thinks will be.. suitable."

Rikson clenched his jaw, his fist harshly gripping the handle of Wrath, as he breathed a heavy breath through his nose, the Stark angered at the "Late Lord Frey's" demand for crossing a bridge.

How dare that repulsive Lord, Rikson thought, utterly enraged.

The youngest of the Stark brothers knew his brother wanted to marry for love, like he had. He wanted a beautiful young girl from a Lowborn House that he could care and provide for until they both passed unto the next world, wherever that is, or whatever it is, Rikson, once more, thought. The secondborn found it unfair that his brother, his passionate and loving brother, would be deprived of that future for some bloody bridge.. even if it was for their family.. because he had married for love, and Rikson knew he did not deserve his sweet Addy. He knew he was a horrible brother, and son, in the past.. he was arrogant, he didn't care about his family as much as he did now, as much as it pains him to admit that, and he was careless.

So why did the arrogant Wolf have the privilege to marry for love, and the loving Wolf couldn't?

"... I see.. did you get a look
at his daughters?"

The voice of his older brother brought the enraged Stark from his thoughts. The Greyjoy boy began to, quietly, snicker to himself, therefore, the secondborn jabbed his elbow into Theon's stomach, smirking when the snickers stopped, as the situation at hand was anything but amusing.

"I did."

A small hint of hope plastered itself onto the eldest Stark's handsome features, "And?"

"One was..." Lady Catelyn trailed off, diminishing any hope for a beautiful bride for the eldest Stark.

"Do you consent?"

"Is refusal an option?" Rikson spoke, his anger evident in his soft voice.

"Not if you want to cross."

The eldest of the Starks released a heavy breath, "Then I consent." Before he walked out of the tent, needing a moment with himself after what he just agreed to.. after the cost of the bridge he agreed to pay. The Greyjoy boy snickered, once more, but hushed himself when his eyes met those of the glaring Wolf's, sending chills down his spine, before Rikson left the tent, as well, needing to assure himself his brother was alright.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Not some hours passed before the Northern army of eighteen-thousand men, led by the four Wolves, rode across the bridge of the Tower of the Twins and began to ride towards Riverrun, Lady Stark's home under a heavy siege led by the Kingslayer. The cost of their crossing weighed heavy on the eldest of the Stark brothers' shoulders as he rode beside his younger brother, the direwolves, Alysanne & Greywind, trotting before them, as his thoughtful gaze focused on the gray, cloudy sky above them. The ambiance of a riding army consumes the Southern winds as the trees dance to the breeze of a coming storm, the sun's rays hidden beneath the clouds. Stallions and mares nicker towards anything that caught their interest, their hooves sinking into the mud of the lands as they carried the men south. The secondborn Stark let his gaze fall onto the direwolves before him and his brother, how Alysanne would occasionally look behind her, towards her Stark, as if assuring herself he was alright, and the way Greywind sniffed at the dirt as he trotted beside his sister.

"Do you think it was worth it?"

Rikson turned his head of wavy hair towards his brother beside him, his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed a heavy breath of the Southern air.

"Ask me again when we rescue father, Sansa
and Arya.. I may have an answer, then." 

Without looking towards his younger brother, "Would you have done it?" His younger brother turned his head away, looking towards the direwolves, breathing another breath of the fresh and cool Southern air, before saying,

"... Probably not."

A silence fell over the Stark brothers riding before the army of eighteen-thousand Northerners, two direwolves before them, and with the soft rumble of thunderous hooves behind him, the secondborn Stark's thoughts drifted towards the battle to come. The eldest of the Stark brothers had decided to march against Jamie Lannister's siege of Riverrun, Lady Stark's home, believing the River Lords would join their army, and either kill or capture the Kingslayer, whom would be a valuable bargaining chip.

Rikson Stark would be a fool, and a liar to himself, if he weren't afraid of the battle to come.

He was terrified.. terrified to lose to the arrogant Lions, knowing his sister and father would suffer dearly if they did.. though, the Stark sensed they would suffer either way. Terrified to lose his brother to the Lions when the fight had only just begun.. terrified of what would come to pass if his brother did fall to a Lion..

Would Rikson Stark be left to lead the Northerners, would Lord Umber or Karstark lead, would his mother hate him for not being able to save his brother, what would come of Greywind, his brother's wolf?

"The man who fears losing has already lost. Fear cuts deeper than swords." His father's voice echoed across his mind. Rikson shook his head to rid it of those horrible thoughts that sent a tendril of fear across his cold bones. He knew he could not allow himself to think such things, but he couldn't help it.

Yet, the Wolf born the secondborn son of House Stark found a rush of excitement flowing through his cold Wolf Blood. He felt as if he were born to be on the field of battle.. with the sky weeping tears of blood that stained the black grass a deep, crimson red.

Rikson Stark was terrified for the fate of his family after the battle to come, yet his blood did not allow him to fear the fight against the prideful Lions.

The Stark had been swinging a sword ever since he could hold the handle in his small hands.. the Stark had been taught how to shoot a bow like a Dothraki Screamer ever since he could sit on a pony. Rikson of House Stark, the Midnight Wolf, had the skills to fight in a battle, and the Warrior's spirit, that much was certain.. but "It only takes one madman with a sword in your blindspot." his mother had said to him some nights ago.

"Are you afraid?"

The voice of the Greyjoy boy broke the Stark's thoughts as his stallion trotted to ride beside Shadow, Rikson's mare, and Rikson turned his head towards the Greyjoy, sensing Theon was asking not to tease him but to genuinely know his thoughts on the battle against the Kingslayer to come. 

"It would be quite foolish of me
not to be afraid.. and, you?"

"I am.. but it's better to think about the
Lannisters we'll put in the ground rather than
thinking about how many of us they'll kill."

Rikson chuckled, "There is that."

"Have you met your squire, yet..
what was the lad's name?"

The Kraken noticed the Wolf rolling his eyes, annoyed at the thought of the boy that would be riding beside him across the field of battle, and he almost felt bad for the Wolf.. almost.

"No, and to be honest, I don't want to.. and I
think his name was Olly.. no, Olyvar."

"Why not? Out of you, Robb, and I, I think you will
be the one needing the most protection."

Deciding to ignore the Greyjoy's teasing, the Stark turned to look at him with raised brows and a titled head, his lips formed into a straight line of unamusement, "Would you want some bloody nuisance beside you in battle, distracting you.. or possibly getting you killed?" Theon snickered, "No, especially not some Frey kid who probably has no sword training."

"He probably hasn't even
held a sword before."

The pleasant conversation of the Stark and Greyjoy, which were quite rare, was interrupted by the voice of a young boy riding behind the Kraken and Wolf.

"I have to."

The three boys, whom rode beside one another with the secondborn in the middle, turned their heads towards the young boy sitting upon a stallion that was, quite noticeaby, too tall for him. Rikson raised a curious brow, his narrowed eyes observing the young boy, sending a chill down the young Frey's spine, as he wondered who this kid was, therefore, he spoke, "And who are you?"

"I'm your squire..
Olyvar Frey."

The young Frey had long, dark brunette hair that reached just below his shoulder-blades and dark ocean blue eyes that accented his, well, accent that sounded similar to the Greyjoy's.. perhaps his mother was from the Iron Islands, the Stark thought.

"How old are you?" Robb asked.

"I'm fourteen, My Lord." Olyvar responded, straightening his posture to seem more confident than he felt on the inside. When the young Frey had been told in the dawn that he would be squiring for the Midnight Wolf, a Stark he had only heard small whispers about, he was both excited and terrified.

He was excited to leave the Tower of the Twins that smelt like "a night in bed" and unwashed men.. excited to see Westeros from a view other than his chambers window.. a chamber he had shared with five brothers.. all of whom he would not miss. Young Olyvar was excited to see the giant wolves he had heard about that were always around the Stark brothers.. excited to meet the Midnight Wolf, and fight beside him and his Valyrian-steel sword in battle.

Though, the young squire was terrified.. terrified to fight the Lannisters, even if the Maker of Widows was beside him.. terrified to leave the only home he had ever known, even if he despised living there.

But Olyvar would not let the Wolves or Lions see his fear, no.. he would be fearless.. just like Aegon the Conqueror was, the young Frey adored the Targaryens, especially Aegon I and Rhaenys I Targaryen.

"So you want to become a Knight?"

The young Frey looked the Midnight Wolf in the eyes, though cautious as to not challenge the Wolf, as he firmly nodded his head, "I do.. I don't want to be stuck in those towers all my life."

"And what is it you expect
to do as a Knight?"

"I want to explore the world, My Lord."

Rikson scoffed as he, lightly, rolled his eyes, "You don't need to be a Knight to explore the world, you could do that here and now.. so enough with the lies, and tell me why you want to become a Knight?" Olyvar had been told he was a horrible liar by his brothers numerous times, yet, he found himself impressed by the Wolf with an aura of superiority.

"I mean no disrespect, My Lord, but it hadn't been my choice to squire for you, my father just told me I had to, but I do want to become a Knight.. and it is an honor to squire for the Midnight Wolf."

Well it hadn't been my choice to have you as a squire but here we are, the Stark thought, though, he kept that to himself, after all Olyvar was just a kid who didn't have any choice in the matter, either.

"An honor?"

".. Yes, My Lord."

"It's an honor to fight and bleed, possibly die, beside someone you don't know in battle? Someone you've probably only ever heard rumors about?"

"Y-Yes, My Lord..?"

"You sound doubtful.. so it's not an honor to fight
beside the Midnight Wolf in battle?"

"I-... I.. are you having a go at me?"

The secondborn Stark raised an amused brow, his brother and friend, silently, snickering to themselves on either side of him, "Perhaps.. the truth is, I just want to see if I'll be needing to save your ass in battle, or not."

"Having a go at me isn't going to prove if I can
fight with a sword or not, My Lord, I may
be small but I'm quick."

"A young boy who lets his own arrogant
words speak for him.. hmm, seems I will
be needing to save your ass in battle."

Young Olyvar huffed in annoyance, as the Stark brothers and Greyjoy boy began to converse amongst themselves as they rode ahead of the army, beginning to wish he had stayed in bed and denied his father's command for once in his short life.

"He thinks I'm arrogant.. huh,
I'll show him.."

The young Frey muttered to himself with a small pout on his young features as he crossed his arms, keeping the reigns for his stallion in his left hand, a dark chestnut stallion he had decided to name, Balerion, considering the horse was twice his size and had quite the temper, like the dragon. The young Frey, then, began to feel small droplets sprinkling across his clothes, lifting his head to look towards the gloomy, cloudy sky, and he huffed as he rolled his eyes, "Oh great."

Through the remaining hours of midday, riding across the Riverlands, the Northerners rode through the storm in the South as they were determined to break through the Kingslayer's siege of Riverrun as soon as they could, therefore, just as the hour of dusk began to roll across the South, the Northern army set camp between the Blue & Red Fork of the Trident. Almost immediately, the soldiers of war began to prepare themselves for battle as the Lords & Ladies went over their plan of attack once more, before preparing themselves for the first battle against the Lannisters, as well.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ
~ { Gruesome Battle } ~

The Wolf's moon shimmers above the southern lands of Westeros, radiating it's glow across the black blanket of the night's sky, the stars winking at the lands below every once and a while. The Red Fork glimmers beneath the glow of the moon, it's waves rippling together in a soft song as the chatter of the Lannisters echoes across the surface of the river. Red tents are spread across the grass, as green as the leaves on the trees sprinkled across the land surrounding the castle, the drawbridge closed with thick chains as the guards of House Tully observe the Lannister army, led by the Kingslayer, outside the walls of Riverrun. The gentle whispers of the breeze drifts across the Lannister camp, loud snores and the crackling of the fires spread across the camp being the only ambiance of the silent night.

Meanwhile, a pair of Lannister soldiers walk towards the edge of the forest beside the ancient castle, their swords discarded on a log some feet behind them as they stand before two different trees, relieving themselves, before one of them begins to hear a low growl.

"Oi, Coren.. you hear that?"

"Hear what?.. I'm trying to
take a piss here."

"I could've sworn I heard-.. Coren!"

A direwolf with fur as black as the night's sky pounces onto the soldier, named Coren, and rips his throat to bloody shreds with her teeth, his screams dissipating into gurgled slurs of cries for help. Before the other Lannister reaches his sword, another direwolf, whose gray fur glimmers beneath the moon, pounces onto him, as well, his teeth latched around the man's neck as he whips his head from side to side, killing the soldier as he breaks his neck.

The direwolves of the Stark brothers, then, release howls, that fade into the cold breath of winter from their bloodied snouts, into the night's sky.

From the cover of the trees, thousands of horses rush towards the siege of Riverrun, and the thousands of Lannisters have barely a moment to arm themselves as they are cut through like fire through snow by the army of enraged Northerners.

As the ambush proves to favor the Northerners in the battle, the Midnight Wolf releases a sharpened arrow from his bow, the steel lodging itself into an unsuspecting Lannister's eye, the man dropping to the grass with a dull thud.

The black mare of the Midnight Wolf sprints across the field of battle, her white snout releasing huffs of frosted air as her hooves thunder against the ground, as the Wolf pulls two arrows from his quiver, keeping one of them between his teeth as he lays the other on the string of his bow, pulling the string back with barely any effort, trusting his eye, before letting the arrow cut through the winds of the south. The arrow places itself in a Lannister soldier's heart, the body of the Lion dropping to the bloodied grass with a dull thud.

The Midnight Wolf, then, takes his second arrow from his mouth and lays it on his bowstring, his eye knowing where the arrow will go, before releasing the string from his gloved fingers. The arrow spins across the southern winds before piercing through one of the Southerner's eyes, instantly killing the unsuspecting soldier.

The Wolf lays another arrow, all sharpened hours before the gruesome battle, on his bowstring, once more trusting his eye as his back does the hard labor for his muscled arms, before letting the arrow loose, smirking as it's meets it's final resting place, in between a Lannister soldier's eyes.

Releasing another arrow into the winds consumed with steel slicing through flesh and the screams of dying men.. on both sides.. the Midnight Wolf notices his arrow only lodged into the Lion's uncovered shoulder, therefore, he pulls another arrow from his quiver and releases it towards the Lion, whose lifeless body drops to the grass as the black mare soars past him in a blur of midnight fur.

The mare of the Midnight Wolf, then, jumps across a thick log covered with moss and sprinkled with missed arrows, and the Wolf she carries on her back releases an arrow as she soars above the log, the mare landing on the grass with a thunderous thump just as the arrow lands in a Lion's prideful heart. The Midnight Wolf, swiftly, turns his body, his darkened eyes narrowed as he looks for a target, before releasing the arrow, killing yet another Lannister soldier like a Dothraki Screamer.

Olyvar Frey, the squire of the Midnight Wolf, observed the boy of six-and-ten riding before him with awe, he had never seen anyone fight the way he did.. then again, he had never really been in a battle, or near one. He thought the secondborn son of House Stark was like a wild Wolf set lose upon it's enemies, and he feared for anyone that would stand in his way.

The Midnight Wolf's darkened eyes set upon a group of three arrogant Lion's standing in his path, and whilst the young squire behind him gulped at the sight of the burly brutes, the Wolf smirked when he heard her running beside him.

Quite abruptly, the Midnight Wolf yanked the reigns of the shadowy mare he sat upon, whom skidded to a halt some distance from the Lannisters before rearing up, and the Lannisters almost fell into the trap of awe at the sight before them.

The eyes of the Midnight Wolf glaring down upon them as his glimmering horse rose high above them, her scream of defiance echoing across the lands. Though, the three men grew confused when the Midnight Wolf bent his upper-body forward, but the confusion did not last, as the direwolf with midnight fur that glowed beneath the moonlight jumped over the mare, pouncing onto the Lion in the middle.

The direwolf of the Midnight Wolf ripped the screaming brute apart with her claws, blood spluttering from his chest and onto her fur, staining the midnight a deep, crimson red.

Before the remaining Lions could think to do anything against the Wolves, the Midnight Wolf had already unsheathed his sword, the sharpened Valyrian-steel glimmering underneath the Wolf's moon, and jumped from his mare, slicing his wrath through the upper body of one of the Lions before landing on his feet with a grace he shouldn't have accomplished with the swiftness he committed. The spluttering body fell to the bloodied grass with a sickening slump, just as the Midnight Wolf turned to meet his wrath with the Lion's sword. The Lion swore he were looking into the eyes of a Wolf born from the Lands of Always Winter as he challenged the Stark, whom growled as he shoved the Lion away from him, landing a harsh kick to his stomach, and the Lion, stunned from the kick, tumbled backwards...

Straight into the awaiting jaws of the direwolf, whom latched her teeth around his neck.

The Lion released blood-curling screams as the direwolf defeated him with her bloodied teeth, all while the Midnight Wolf stared down at the gruesome kill before him, yet he didn't flinch.. didn't even blink, only flexed his wrist as he readied himself for the battle on the ground.

"M-My Lord.. should I get your horse?"

The Midnight Wolf turned towards the young boy upon his stallion, and he almost felt bad for him as the Frey clung to the reigns as he looked half-sick in both fright and disgust at the gruesome kill he had just witnessed.

"No.." The eyes of the Midnight Wolf noticed the flinch that left the young boy, even though he tried to hide it, when the black wolf harshly growled before she rushed towards a Lion running towards them. The Frey began to shake as he clung to his stallion, therefore, with his brows creased in pity, the Wolf walked towards the boy, laying his gloved hand on his leg, shaking it to get the frightened boy's attention, "Olyvar, look at me." With tears of fright layered underneath his blue eyes, the young boy did as he was asked, not necessarily wanting to witness another kill made by the direwolf of the Midnight Wolf.

"You're doing just fine, alright?.. You're
fine, Olly.. can I call you that?"

The young Frey nodded, his quakes beginning to lessen as he focused on the Wolf beside him rather than the gruesome battle surrounding them.

"Alright.. Olly, stay with the horses. Do not jump
down from this horse, do you understand?"

"Y-Yes, My Lord, but-.. but what if someone
comes, w-what should I do?"

"You run.. run away and do not look
back... don't look back."

Young Olyvar, once more, nodded
his head, "Y-Yes, My Lord."

The Midnight Wolf, softly, smiled at the young boy, hoping to reassure the frightened boy, as he patted his leg, before he began to walk away, "Stay here, Olly.. I'll find you when this is over." With a final nod, the fearful eyes of young Olyvar Frey stared at the Midnight Wolf running towards the dangers on the bloodied field of battle with his direwolf beside him.. wishing he could be as brave as the Wolves.

Flames lick away at the red tents spread across the lands laying before the ancient castle, Riverrun, as a blanket of dark, red blood coats the damp grass as a squall weeps from the sky, the echo of thunder clashing against the night's sky. Screams of dying men.. both Northern & Southern.. consume the air as bodies drop to the ground by the hundreds, lifeless eyes staring into nothing, the screams accented by the echo of steel on steel and the thunder of hooves.

Running across the heart of the battle, the Midnight Wolf rolls underneath the swing of an arrogant Lion's sword, whom is daring enough to challenge the wild Wolf, before his sword of wrath plunges into the soldier's stomach. Yanking his sword out of the soldier's belly, the Valyrian-steel dripping with bright, red blood, the Midnight Wolf stands from the ground, kicking the Lion's body to the grass.

A cry of battle rings through the Wolf's ears, therefore, the Wolf turns and smacks away the Lion's sword with his own, before thrusting his bloodied sword into the soldier's heart. The Lannister soldier's lifeless body sinks to the ground with a dull thump.

The fierce growling of the direwolf with midnight fur echoes through the Midnight Wolf's ears, turning around to be met with the sight of four Lannister soldiers standing behind him.

The direwolf of the Midnight Wolf stands behind her Stark, her teeth bared as she growls at the Lions daring enough to face the Wolves, whom gulp at the size of the wolf behind the Stark, her ears reaching just above his head of wavy hair. The soldier, standing the farthest to the right of the four Lions, makes the mistake of placing one booted foot forward, as if he were going to fight the Wolf, and, the direwolf furiously barks at the Lion before pouncing onto the soldier, tearing his neck apart with her teeth alone, his blood painting her fur deep, crimson red.. as have all of her victims.

One of the three soldiers, then, rushes towards the Midnight Wolf, whom meets the soldier's clean sword with his bloodied blade. The Wolf, harshly, shoves the soldier away from him, before spinning himself as he twirls his blade in his right hand, meeting the Lion's sword, once more, whom defends himself from the Wolf as the Beast slaps away both of his thrusts sent towards his right arm and then chest. The Lion throws his arms above his head, ready to strike the Wolf straight down his bloodied chest, but the Midnight Wolf catches the Lion's wrists in his gloved hands, beginning to squeeze the delicate limbs, resulting in a cry of pain from the soldier as his hands, instinctively, release his sword.

The Wolf, then, notices the remaining Lions beginning to approach him, therefore, with such a swift speed it happens within the blink of an eye, the Midnight Wolf drops one of the Lion's wrists, unsheathing his dagger, plunging it deep into the Lion's neck before thrusting it towards one of the two Lions, instantly, killing the soldier as it lands in his eye, the pointy end of the dagger sticking through the back of his head.

The lifeless bodies drop to the bloodied grass.

The last Lion halts for a moment, debating on running away but decides against it as he releases a shout of rage as he rushes towards the weaponless Wolf, whom holds no fear in his eyes, before his direwolf pounces onto the last Lion, ripping him apart with her claws and teeth, his screams fading to gurgled shouts.

The Midnight Wolf, then, picks up his bloodied sword from the ground, thin blades of grass sticking to the thick blood, before he walks towards one of the corpses, yanking his dagger out of the Lion's head and sheathing it on his leather belt, the holster near his lower-back. The direwolf of the Midnight Wolf walks towards her Stark, licking her bloodied snout with a huff as the droplets from the night's sky wash away the blood on her fur, whom turns towards her with a small grin of pride on his handsome features.

"My good wolf.. can you take
me to our brothers?"

The direwolf huffs, licking her Stark's cheek, before she began to run across the battlefield, with the stench of blood and death in the air, the wails of dying men, and the thunder of the storm that dampens the direwolf's fur and her Stark's hair, as she leads him towards the direction she sensed her brother was in, defending his Stark as she did hers.

And it wasn't long before the Midnight Wolf's eyes landed upon his eldest brother, though, relief wasn't the only feeling to wash over the young Stark.

It was blended with terror, as well...

As the Kingslayer stood above his weaponless brother, his direwolf no where to be seen, with a smirk of pride on his lips as he lifted his golden blade above his head, ready to plunge the sword of death into the young Wolf's fierce heart.

"Where's your direwolf now, boy?"

The prideful Golden Lion smirked as he spoke, not giving the young Wolf a chance to speak before he thrusted his sword downwards, directly towards the Wolf's heart...

The Golden Lion was not met with the sound of steel cutting through flesh.. no.. he was met with the sound of steel on steel, and the eyes of the Wolf born of ice glaring upon him, sending chills across his bones, though, the arrogant Lion ignored that.

"If you hurt my brother, I'll kill you..
I swear I will kill you all."

The Midnight Wolf, then, shoved the Golden Lion away from himself and his brother, whom looked upon his brother with pride.

It was a sight to see, the Midnight Wolf guarding his brother with his blade clutched in his hands, the steel glowing in the moonlight as blood slid down the smooth sword, with the bright, red liquid blanketing itself across the young boy's handsome features, and none of it was his. His armor that shimmered with the stars, the torso of the armor ending just below his upper-chest as the middle of the armor was embroidered with the symbol of House Stark, the head of a gray direwolf howling into the night's sky, as his shoulders were cupped with a thin layer of the same black-metal armor, though less bulky than his brother's, as gauntlets wrapped around his wrists and ended just below his elbows. The black shine of his armor made him appear more a shadow of the midnight hours than a young boy of six-and-ten as he stood tall and proud, like the Wolf he is.

"You should know better than to make
promises you can't keep, boy."

"I am a slow learner.. Kingslayer."

The Golden Lion of House Lannister and the Midnight Wolf of House Stark, then, met their blades in a clash of swords as a bolt of lighting struck the ground, the thunderous boom of the storm echoing across the night's sky.. as the duel between Wolf & Lion began...

~ { End Battle } ~
ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

In the hours following the sun of the dawn, waiting on her brown mare with Ser Rodrik beside her, is Lady Catelyn Stark, her Tully blue eyes scanning the forest some distance before the hill her mare stands upon, whom kicks at the dirt below her hooves as the white stallion beside her shakes himself. It had been some hours after her sons had left with the direwolves and sixteen-thousand men behind them to break the Kingslayer's siege of Riverrun, Lady Stark's home, and the mother of the Starks had not left the hillside she stood on with Ser Rodrik ever since the sun began to kiss the lands of Westeros below with it's golden hues.. her beautiful boy's more favored hours of the day.

She needed to see her sons.. needed to see if they were alright after their first battle, at such a young age, as well.

Ser Rodrik began to become anxious for his Lady's well-being, believing it wasn't safe for them to be so close to the siege if the Starks lost, therefore, he voiced his concerns, "We should go, My Lady."

"No!" Lady Catelyn spoke with a harsh tone, that lightly shook as she spoke.

Another moment of silence passed, filled with the songs of the morning birds and the gentle whisper of the breeze drifting through the forest.

"My Lady.."

Though, the distant thunder of hooves stole the Lady and Knight's attention, whom turned their heads to locate the source of the thunder, and moments later, thousands of horses appeared through the line of the trees in the forest.. the unmistakable banner of House Stark held tall and proud by the men.

The Northerners had won.

Whilst Ser Rodrik smiled to himself, proud of the Northerners and their victory against the Lannisters, Lady Catelyn Stark furrowed her brows as her Tully eyes drifted across the Northerners.. before tears began to spring to her river blue orbs.

Robb and Rikson of House Stark rode at the head of the Northern army.

The eldest of the Stark brothers rode on his white stallion with his brother on his black mare beside him, both covered in dried blood and dirt. The mother of the Stark brothers released a sob of relief, tears beginning to fall from her Tully blue eyes as her sons rode towards her and Ser Rodrik, before halting some distance from them as they hopped off of their horses, walking towards their mother, whom brought both of them into an embrace, not caring whomever saw it.

"My boys.. are you alright?"

"We're alright, mom.. we're alright." Rikson spoke through a heavy breath of exhaustion, ready to fall onto his bed and sleep away his soreness from the battle, and duel, the night prior.

The Stark brothers, then, released from their mother's embrace, before they walked towards the stallion carrying the Golden Lion, Jamie Lannister, whom was roughly pulled from the horse, landing on the harsh floors of the southern lands with a grunt.

"By the time they knew what was happening..
it had already happened."

The voice of the eldest of the Stark brothers spoke as he stood beside his mother with his younger brother beside him, and the young squire, Olyvar Frey, standing behind the secondborn Stark. Lord Umber and the Greyjoy boy, Theon, stood behind the Kingslayer, the former with his bloodied sword aimed towards the Lannister's head should he attempt to try anything.

"Lady Stark.. I'd offer you my sword,
but I seem to have lost it."

Lady Stark looked down upon the golden Lannister with a hidden malice in her river blue eyes,

"It is not your sword I want. Give me my
daughters back.. give me my husband." 

"I've lost them too, I'm afraid."

The Stark brothers glared at the Lannister kneeling before them, with a trail of blood oozing from a wound upon his head, curiosity of Rikson Stark, as he squinted to look up at the Northerners.

Before the voice of the enraged Greyjoy boy spoke, "Kill him, Robb.. send his head to his father. He cut down ten of our men, before Rikson defeated him.. you saw it." It was the secondborn son whom responded, "He's more use to us alive than dead." 

"Take him away, and put him in irons." Lady Stark commanded, and Lord Umber, immediately, lifted the Lannister from the ground, though, the Golden Lion, swiftly, spoke up,

"We could end this war right now, boy.. save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters.. swords or lances, teeth, nails, choose your weapons, and let's end this here and now."

The eldest of the Starks looked the Lannister in the eyes with the courage of a Wolf in his, "If we did it your way, Kingslayer.. you'd win. We're not doing it your way.. unless you want to fight my brother again, you remember what happened when you faced him last night?" A prideful smirk formed on the youngest of the Stark brothers' lips as he stood tall and proud, like the Wolf he is, the beaten Lannister refusing to meet the Stark's eyes as blue as the Northern sky. 

Lord Umber, then, shoved the Lannister forward as he began to drag him towards the cells of the Northerners camp, "Come on, pretty man." The Northerners began to cheer, their victorious yells echoing across the forest surrounding them. As the cheers of the Northerners rang through the Stark brothers ears, the Greyjoy boy walked towards the Starks, a small smirk on his lips, yet he noticed the eldest of the Starks was not smiling, nor did he seem happy with their victory.

"I sent two-thousand men to their graves."

The Greyjoy was swift to respond with, "The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice." to reassure his troubled friend, yet his efforts did little.

"Aye." The eldest responded, followed by the secondborn, "But the dead won't hear them."

The eldest of the Starks, then, stepped forward, the Northerners hushing themselves as the Stark began to speak, raising his voice so all the men could hear him from where they sat on their stallions and mares,

"One victory does not make us conquerors. Did we free our father.. did we rescue our sisters from the Queen?.. Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees?... This war is far from over."

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

The sun of the dusk hours began it's descent into the lands beyond Westeros, casting the hills in beautiful hues of dragon-fire gold accented by the white clouds that stretched far and thin across the sky. The Northerners camp, spread across the lands between the Blue & Red Fork of the Trident, bustled with drunken laughter accompanied by cheering as the soldiers celebrated their victory in the long war to come. The night's breeze drifted across the camp made up of hundreds of gray tents and pits of fire with joyful men around them, and played with the banners of the Northern Houses spread across the grounds.

Meanwhile, inside of the secondborn Stark's tent, the Stark brothers were sat upon the bed as they conversed amongst one another, with their direwolves laying by their feet, resting from the battle.

Rikson chuckled, "I know, they'll be singing about me for ages.. the Stark who defeated the Kingslayer in single-combat." Robb snickered alongside his brother, "How does it feel?.. Defeating the Kingslayer?"

"I feel that people just love to over
praise a famous name."

The eldest smirked at his brother, whom well earned his rights to be cocky about his defeat of the Kingslayer.. yet, he wasn't.. and Robb couldn't feel more proud of his younger brother. His younger brother that rode through the gates of the only home he had ever known to march against the Lannisters.. his brother that fought bravely in his first battle, and defeated a famous name. But the eldest of the brothers couldn't help but crease his brows in concern as he eyed the cuts and bruises on his brother's features.

The secondborn Stark had a small cut just above his right brow, nothing to serious to scar, alongside a slash across his left cheek, also nothing to harmful to scar his pale skin. A deep, blue petite bruise rested below his bottom-lip, something that would become more sore when he awoke in the dawn, alongside another bruise that marked the skin underneath his right eye.

"But are you alright, Riks?"

The secondborn, whose elbows leaned on his thighs with his hands laced together on his knees, released a tired breath, "Well other than being sore from the battle.. I'm alright.. and, you?"

".. I sent two-thousand men to their graves,
Riks.. was their sacrifice worth it?"

Rikson turned his head towards his brother, his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed a heavy breath, "I want to say it was... but, I don't know." The eldest released a heavy sigh of sorrow as his shoulders slumped, "This war has only just begun and already it weighs heavy." Rikson straightened himself, laying his hand on his brother's shoulder, "It does, but you're not alone, Robb.. not as long as I'm here."

The eldest, softly, smiles as his lays his hand on the back of his brother's neck before connecting their heads and kissing his brow, appreciating his brother more than he ever had in that moment shared between them, before he ruffles his hair, earning an eye roll as Rikson shoves his hand away, resulting in small snickers from the eldest.

"How is Olyvar?.. He looked pretty
shaken up after the battle."

Rikson, lazily, shrugs his shoulders as he rests his head on his brother's shoulder, his eyelids beginning to flutter as the exhaustion of the battle prior begins to seep into his sore body, speaking in a soft voice, "He was.. poor lad fell asleep crying his eyes out after telling me how scared he really was." The younger of the brothers could not see, but his brother's eyes held an anger in them, he was angry that the Lord of the Twins had sent such a young boy into battle.. no, into war. A young boy whom had little to no experience in anything to do with fighting, besides how to properly hold a sword. But, then, an idea sprang into the eldest brother's head, a smirk growing on his lips as he knew how his brother would react, "You should train the lad, Riks."

"Absolutely.. not.." The younger of the Starks replied in a voice laced with exhaustion as his blue eyes became harder to keep open. Robb chuckled, "Well you look tired, Riks." The eldest knew his brother was utterly exhausted, but the young boy denied as he shook his heavy head, barely able to keep his eyes open as he responded, "I'm fine."

"Uh huh, sure you are.." The younger of the brothers, lowly, huffed, too tired to respond, ".. have you had any nightmares since we left Winterfell?"

A silence accompanied by soft breathing followed the eldest of the brother's question, whom looked towards his brother to see his eyes closed as his shoulders softly rose and fell.. Rikson had fallen asleep.

Robb snickers, "Oh, Riks." Before he stands from his seat on the bed to take his slumbering brother into his arms and lay him across the bed. The eldest took his brother's cloak, that hung from the headboard at the end of the bed, and spread it across his brother, whom mumbled as he pulled the cloak closer to himself, before falling still as he became dead to the world around him, making Robb chuckle.

"Rest well, Riks.."

The eldest of the Stark brothers, then, left the tent, leaving his slumbering brother and direwolves to rest from the prior battle, planning on seeing his mother before he too rested from the battle.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Late into the hours of the Wolf's moon, the night's sky shimmered above the lands of Westeros as the bright stars twinkled and winked at the slumbering lands below. The creatures of the night singing their songs as a gentle midnight breeze drifted through the forests and across the grounds of the Northerners camp.

Inside of the secondborn Stark's tent, the young boy slept upon the bed with his direwolf curled beside him, her head resting on his back, whilst the direwolf of his brother, Greywind, laid beside the bed, with the Stark's hand on his fur. Though, the peaceful silence in the tent began to break as the young Stark began to twitch and mutter in his state of deep sleep. 

"N-No... father..." The Stark flinched as he tossed on his side, "S-.. Sansa.. no.. no." The direwolves awoke from their rest to look towards the Stark, whimpering, as he flinched again, turning to lay on his back, "No... please-.. please don't... Father!" Rikson awoke with a sharp inhale of the cooling night's breeze as he lurched upwards on the bed, his chest deeply heaving as his frantic eyes darted across the inside of the tent he found himself in, before coming to realise he was in his tent in the Northerners camp in the Riverlands...

.. he was not in the capital of Westeros, King's Landing.

A pounding ache began to form in Rikson's mind, therefore, he closed his eyes with a groan, leaning against the headrest of the bed, as he soothed his hands along the sides of his head. Greywind released a low whine as he stood from his laying position on the ground beside the bed, laying his head on the Stark's belly as his sister, Alysanne, rested her head on her Stark's thighs.

Some moments of silence passed through the secondborn Stark's tent, before he opened his eyes as he let his hands rest on the wolves' heads. The wolves whimpered as ruby and citrine eyes looked upon the troubled Stark, whom released a low breath before he spoke in a low voice, "It was a dream.. but, not like my nightmares. Father he-... he died in King's Landing, and Sansa.. oh, my sweet Sansa... she's all alone, now... but it can't be true, can it?" The direwolves, once more, whimpered in response, as Greywind licked the hand caressing his head and Alysanne leaned into her Stark's hand.

".. It can't be true..."

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~ Author's Note ~

Another chapter!! And one of the last ༎ຶٹ༎ຶ and the first battle I have ever written • ◡• how'd I do??

And, seriously, I can't get enough of Riks and his brother and the wolves!! ◕◡◕ They're so cute!!!