A/N: sorry for such a short update! shortest chapter for this season, I promise.
Oathbreaker
"My watch is ended."
Rose awakens to the sound of the bars clanging open. The cloth tied around her eyes is too thick to see through. All she can do is clutch onto the chair with her fists and wait. She hears footsteps walking into the room — two pairs of footsteps; one of them Ramsay's heavy boots, the second far lighter. The unmistakable scent of wet dog fills the room . . . and something else. Something very familiar. Her heart thunders in her chest.
A silence rings out. She holds her breath. The bars suddenly slam shut again, making her gasp, and she bites down, hard on her lip. Ramsay's heavy boots retreat, but she can hear panting coming from directly in front of her. Footsteps shuffle closer and closer to her.
Then, fingers grab at the cloth around her eyes and lift it up.
The world comes into focus. Tully blue eyes stare back at her, wide and in disbelief. His face is the same, yet completely different. Angled, having lost all of its baby fat, and much, much skinnier. Something inside of her shatters.
"Rickon?" she gasps, her throat raw. He gazes back at her, startled. Then, he instantly begins tugging at the ropes that bind her wrists to the chair, his hands trembling. "How—? When did you—?"
The ropes drop to the floor. Rickon throws his arms around her and holds her, tightly. Ignoring the sharp pain that spreads across her body, Rose hugs him back, squeezing her eyes shut as silent tears slide down her cheeks.
The broken creature in front of Rickon doesn't look like his sister. Well, it does, and it doesn't.
Her hair is shorter, no longer flowing to her waist; a tatted mess that hangs over her shoulders. She has purplish bruises blossoming across her skin and harsh, red scars that peek out from under her blood-stained shift. That's not the worst of it. Her back is covered in blistered burn marks, in unusual, neat lines over her skin.
He cannot help but stare at her. They sit together on the floor, their legs crossed, opposite each other. "How did you end up in Last Hearth?" she asks, eventually. "I told Osha to take you to Riverrun."
Rickon frowns. "We were going to. Then . . . Maester Luwin said we were better off going to Castle Black. To Jon. If she took us back to Robb, she'd have sent us to war."
Rose nods, softly. "I'm glad she didn't," she whispers. "It's the reason you're still alive." He manages a small smile, which she returns, weakly. "Where did Bran go?"
"Beyond the Wall."
"Beyond the—?" Rose's eyes blow wide. "What for?"
He opens his mouth to respond when there's a sharp, clanging sound from outside the cell. Their heads whip around, hearing voices coming from the opposite end of the cellar. Not in front of him, Rose silently pleads. Please, gods, don't let him do anything to me in front of him. The voices die as quickly as they started, and the sound of retreating footsteps echo in the empty halls. She exhales in relief.
Rickon's eyes dart back to his sister. "What did he do to you, Rose?" he asks, tentatively.
She blinks, staring back at him. Each time she moves, the wounds burn, reminding her how they got there in the first place. All those painful memories spin around, relentlessly in her head. To talk about it out loud . . . she has to bite down on her lip to stop the tears coming. Instead, she averts her gaze to the ground.
Rickon hangs his head. "He's going to kill us," he whispers.
Rose reaches over and clasps his hand. "Sansa and Jon are at Castle Black. That's where we'll go."
"If we escape."
"When we escape." Gently, she reaches up and cups his face with her hand. His eyes turn glassy as he looks at her. "It can't get any worse than this. It can only get better."
He sighs. Tiredly, he pulls her hand from his face and gives it a squeeze. "That's not true," he says, emptily. She stares back at him — never in a million years did she imagine the boy who used to fit, so easily on her lap, the boy who would beg her for sweets and play with her hair could look so grown-up. A small smile tugs his lips up. "I really missed you, Rose."
Her heart aches inside her chest. "I really missed you, too."
To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow,
You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind and you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard, come and see.
Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon. His direwolf's skin is on my floor, come and see. I have the Rose of Winterfell in my torture chamber. Do my bidding and no further harm will come to her. Refuse me and she will suffer.
I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride North to slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sisters. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see.
Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.
A/N: Will both Rickon and Rose make it out of this alive? Will Ramsay's letter goad Jon into coming for them?
