AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is just a little thing I couldn't get out of my head. I just had to write it down.
This is unbeta'd; I literally wrote this in 20 minutes.
This little fic stemmed from my own personal Rickon headcannon: that he grows up to look exactly like Robb. I have so many feels from this headcannon I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.
I hope you like it. It's not my best work, but I just had to get it out of my head so I can continue with my other ASOIAF fic.
A review would be great if you have the time. And, finally, without further ado, read on.
She comes back to him.
In Rickon Stark's young life, all he has ever known is people leaving. And even those memories are vague.
Now eleven years old, Rickon has begun to realise what responsibilities he has as Warden of the North, and as the Lord of Winterfell. The rebuilding of Winterfell had taken much time and effort but King Stannis has agreed that the Iron Throne will pay for all the costs, as a gesture of goodwill for the North's unwavering loyalty during the later stages of the war. He even sends his own Hand, Lord Davos, to oversee all the work, knowing how highly Rickon thinks of him.
Rickon had returned to the North years before, immediately become a rallying point for the Nothern houses. With Wyman Manderly, Maege Mormont, Brynden Tully, both of the uncles of Greatjon Umber, Davos Seaworth and Osha, Rickon had grown up to understand the role he would have as Lord of Winterfell. They destroyed House Bolton and the North beings to flourish once again.
But his family is rarely mentioned. Osha had gently informed a six year old Rickon that his mother, father and eldest brother would not be coming back to him, but had also voiced the possibility of his sisters returning to him one day.
Rickon Stark has very few memories of Winterfell before he left. And he has even less memories of the people who had loved him there. Many a night Rickon would wonder why things he had no memory of could upset him so.
Word spreads of the threat coming from North of the Wall. Rickon commands that the North will aid the the Night's Watch, aid his brother Jon in his battle. King Stannis talks to the Northern lords and agrees that aiding the Wall is the best course of action. Rickon is forced to stay in Winterfell; too young and to important for his life to be risked. He was upset at first, but then he remember something he had been told a lifetime ago, by a face that is blurry to him. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.
The Others are defeated, but Rickon is never told the details of the battle. All he knows is many good men do not return.
Jon visits him when he can. The first time Rickon had met the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch he did not know that he was talking to his brother. Jon's face as he realised that his little brother did not recognise him will haunt Rickon for the rest of his days. The brothers had spent the night in Rickon's chambers talking. The next day Jon had taken Rickon out into the chilly courtyard to allow him to practice his sword skills.
Rickon had been practicing drills when he turned to look at Jon, only to find his brothers smiling sadly at him, tears running down his face as the snow fell around them.
"What's wrong Jon?" Rickon had asked.
"Nothing Rickon, you just have snowflakes melting in your hair. That's all." Jon had wiped away the tears at that, pulling his brother into a fierce hug.
Jon had agreed to stay for a week, feeling that the Wall could manage without him. It is on the fifth night of his stay that she comes back.
Sansa Stark breaks down sobbing when she sees Rickon.
Rickon Stark breaks down sobbing when he sees Sansa.
Jon looks on with tears in his eyes too, as do even the most hardened lords.
Sansa's return brings back a thousand memories for Rickon. He remembers days spent with all his siblings. Robb, Sansa and he would be a team, while Jon, Bran and Arya made another. They would have the biggest snow fights; Sansa shrieking as Arya launched handful after handful of snow at her face. Jon and Robb would laugh as they tackle each other to the ground, the sheer amount of snow softening their falls. Bran would laugh at the madness surrounding him.
"Mother and Father and Robb would be so proud of you, sweetling," Sansa whispers into Rickon's auburn hair that night. They sleep in the same bed, each unwilling to leave the other.
"I don't remember them, Sansa," Rickon chokes out, barely able to voice the fact. "But I think you look like mother did."
Sansa wipes away the tears from her little brothers face, pressing her forehead to his. "Your mother was a brave, smart, kind woman. Father was the most honourable man in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. And Robb... Robb was everything you should aspire to be. Can you remember Robb?"
Rickon shakes his head sadly.
"You look just like him, Rickon. The same blue eyes and auburn hair. Even the same personality. I know what they call you; the Wild Wolf. Robb was called the Young Wolf because he was so fierce and brilliant and awe-inspiring. They're all proud of you Rickon, know that."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hope you enjoyed that little fic. Thanks for reading!