A/N: The Flames of Winter has reached one thousand followers and I simply cannot tell you how overwhelmed I'm feeling right now. When I had started writing this fanfiction, I had not even dreamed that I would get such a positive reaction to it. Half of me expected myself to abandon it after a chapter or two. I had started it cause I'd had the plot in my head for a few weeks and just had to get it down. You guys are the ones who kept and are keeping me writing. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING!
Trigger warning: Thoughts on torture and abuse
If southern Westeros was ever a person, Arya could have bet Needle that it would have been Margaery Tyrell. Her brother's betrothed was every inch of what a perfect southern lady would be, even more so than Sansa if that was possible. Margaery was never lacking in charms or words. The woman always had just the right words to say and it annoyed Arya to no end. She did not trust the Tyrells, they had been allied to Joffrey and Cersei for a time. She thought rewarding their alliance with the Lannisters with a crown was in poor taste. Margaery did not deserve Jon after being married to Joffrey, no matter how brief the marriage was. Arya understood that the marriage between Jon and Margaery was strictly political but that did not mean she had to like it.
So Arya spent her days for the last fortnight tailing Margaery Tyrell in Riverrun, much more than she did Jon. She watched from the shadows all of Margaery's interactions, from those with Sansa to that with her own handmaidens. Arya waited for Margaery's perfect act to slip but it was getting increasingly difficult to find cracks in the woman. However, that did not stop Arya from watching the future queen like a hawk.
She now observed Margaery Tyrell as Jon's War Council discussed marching North. The War Council consisted of Arya's family, the Tyrells, Lord Royce of the Vale and Petyr Baelish. They were all seated around a round table with Jon at its head and Margaery to his right and the Blackfish to his left. Arya and Brienne stood in the shadows behind Jon as befitted a Kingsguard. Arya preferred it to sitting at the table with everyone else. From where she was standing she could see everyone, especially Margaery Tyrell.
"We should be able to begin marching in two days time." The Blackfish was saying.
"Good. Lord Tyrell had been able to assure the same." Jon inclined his head at Mace Tyrell, who nodded his head in agreement.
Arya thought Jon looked every bit a king. Jon might have been raised a bastard but he had the bearings of a king. She felt her chest swelled with pride. Arya always knew her brother had been meant for great things.
"The Riverland army and a portion of the Knights of the Vale will remain here to hold the Riverlands." Jon continued as he turned back to the Blackfish, "As will you, Ser."
The Blackfish bowed his head, "As your grace commands."
"Good. Retaking Winterfell should not be that difficult. It's very unlikely any of the other Northern houses will ally themselves with the Boltons."
Arya noticed that Margaery and the Tyrells look pleased at that. Most probably because that would mean Jon would wed Margaery all the sooner. Arya had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She did not dislike the rest of Tyrells as much as she did Margaery, but they were southerners and Arya distrusted southerners. The only one Tyrell Arya thought interesting enough was the Queen of Thorns. The old woman was not a typical lady. She spoke her mind whenever she felt the need, which Arya realized was often.
Jon drummed his fingers on the table and reached out for a raven on the table. "I received a raven from Castle Black." He said as he held it up. Jon's great uncle lived at the Wall, Arya recalled. He had been the one who gave Dark Sister to Jon and for that Arya would be forever grateful. Even if the legendary sword was not hers, holding and swinging it once in a while was straight out of a dream.
"It was from Maester Aemon. He writes that the Wildlings had taken Castle Black for a brief period of time. Stannis Baratheon has recaptured it though. He was not able to spare any further details."
Arya noticed that the Tyrells visibly tensed. Loras Tyrell's eyes were blazing. Arya remembered that Stannis had killed his brother, Loras' lover, with sorcery. Arya's mother had been witness to the act. It was good news that the Wildings no longer held the Wall but Stannis wanted the Iron Throne and thus he was another threat that had to be dealt with in the North. Briefly, Arya wondered if Jon's wildling love had survived the events that transpired at Castle Black.
"That accursed kinslayer deserves nothing less than death." Loras spat in anger.
"Stannis will be dealt with after we take back Winterfell." Jon reminded the knight, his voice firm.
"We did not suggest otherwise, your grace." Lady Olenna spoke up, shooting a look at Loras. The Knight of the Flowers looked as though he was about to suggest otherwise, but he held his tongue.
Jon nodded, "The raven contains nothing else." That part was directed towards Arya's family. Arya shuffled uncomfortably. They had assumed that Bran and Rickon had been hiding there. Arya's mother stiffened, clutching the edges of the table and Arya saw a flash of worry on Sansa's face before it returned to the emotionless mask her sister wore in public.
"If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned." Jon slowly rose before being interrupted by Margaery's brother, Garlan.
"Your grace, we have news from Mereen."
Jon sat back down in his chair, gazing at Garlan Tyrell curiously, "News?"
Arya knew Daenerys Targaryen was in Mereen. Another one of Jon's relatives on his father's side. She ruled as queen in there. She was called the Mother of Dragons for having hatched three dragons.
"Tyrion Lannister has apparently entered the service of your aunt, Daenerys Targaryen." Garlan informed him, "If she hadn't known about you yet, she will know now."
Jon sighed, and Arya felt bad for her brother. He had only been king for a short period of time and it was already taking a toll on him. It was also a possibility that he might have to go to war with his own kin. To add on that he was being forced to marry a proper lady. Arya much preferred Jon's wildling lover, at least she would have been able to connect with her on some level.
"Better to treat with her sooner rather than later." Jon surmised, "I'd been hoping to invite her to Winterfell once we've taken it back. We'll send an envoy immediately instead."
"I'd like to volunteer myself, your grace." Littlefinger spoke up for the first time in the meeting. Arya did not like the man at all. He was overly fond of her mother and even of Sansa to some extent. Sansa had warned her to steer clear of the man.
Jon's eyes narrowed at the man for a moment and exchanged a glance with Sansa. Jon and Sansa seemed to not be the only ones who were displeased by the man's suggestion. The Blackfish and Lord Edmure were glaring daggers at the man and the Tyrells and Lord Royce were regarding him with scorn.
"It wouldn't do for you to go alone, Lord Baelish. And who would command the Vale in your absence?" Lady Olenna interrupted.
Lord Baelish shifted to regard the old lady. "I don't see why not, my lady. Sansa will take control of the Vale with Lord Royce acting as an advisor. I do have a flair for words which will be useful in dealing with the Dragon Queen. After all, I did broker the alliance between you and the Lannisters." Sansa looked taken aback for a moment at being given control of the Knights of the Vale. Arya's mother too looked surprised. Jon simply observed the man.
Lady Olenna sneered at the Lord of the Fingers. "Not something to brag about, Baelish." She shot back snidely. Arya had to hide an amused smile as Lord Baelish tried not to bristle under everyone's attention.
"I don't exactly mind company, my lady. Who'd you suggest then?" Lord Baelish asked, ignoring Lady Olenna's snark.
"Willas, my grandson." Lady Olenna answered, leaning forward "He is heir to Highgarden and will be the King's good brother."
"It would exhibit a certain amount of trust in Daenerys Targaryen." Edmure slowly agreed with Lady Olenna, from his place beside the Blackfish.
"My son would be honoured to broker peace between his grace and his aunt." Mace Tyrell added.
"Lord Willas has not left the Reach in years." Lord Baelish wondered out loud.
"Perhaps it is time he began to venture out then, Lord Baelish. He will be fine." Lady Olenna assured as she turned towards Jon. Jon did not speak, deep in thought for a few moments before he nodded his head in agreement.
"It is settled then. Lord Baelish and Lord Willas shall sail for Mereen." Jon shifted his gaze to Littlefinger, "I shall discuss the details with you later."
He rose from his seat and everyone followed suit. He nodded at the lords and ladies before he turned around on his heel, making his way out of the room. Arya's eyes narrowed as his with met briefly with Margaery's. While everyone filed out the room, Arya watched as Sansa followed Jon close behind, quickening her pace to catch up with her brother. Sansa began to urgently whisper into his ear. Arya considered following them but she decided against it as she saw Margaery exit the room along with Ser Loras. She would figure out what Jon and Sansa were discussing later. She did not trust Margaery out if her sight.
Arya subtly followed the brother and sister down the hallways. She shadowed them silently as they made a turn down the corridor to the wing that was housing the Tyrells. Arya was good at spying. Being swift and quiet had been an integral part of her training with Syrio.
Arya was able to hear snippets of the conversation going on between Margaery and Loras. "I'm glad Jon assigned the task to Willas." Margaery gushed. Arya wrinkled her nose as the lady used her brother's name so carelessly.
"Will is more than enough to keep Littlefinger in line as well." Loras concurred. The pair came at a stop in front of Margaery's chambers. Arya had to cease her following so that she would not be seen. Margaery smiled brightly at her brother before retiring into her rooms. Loras, on the other hand, continued down the path and entered his.
Arya waited for a moment before she proceeded to make her way to Margaery's room. She swiftly opened the door and entered, silently shutting it behind her. The room was spacious and well lit. It was furnished as would befit a future queen.
Margaery regarded Arya with surprise, upon noticing her arrival. She stood up from the chaise by the window she had been seated upon and stepped forward to greet her.
"Lady Arya." She blinked as she made her way towards her.
"I'm not a lady." Arya reminded her unkindly. She no longer even tried to look the part. Arya dressed in breeches and shirts if not in her armour that Jon had commissioned. Needle was almost always strapped at her waist nowadays.
"Well, can I offer you a glass of wine, Arya?" Margaery asked sweetly, never forgetting her courtesies. She headed for the table upon which the pitcher was placed, reached for it and was about to pour a glass of wine when Arya shook her head. Margaery's hand fell limp by her side. She observed Arya curiously, likely trying to decipher the reason for Arya's visit. They had not exchanged any words before and they did not share the same rapport that Margaery had with Sansa.
Arya took a step forward, placing her left hand on Needle's hilt. Margaery's eyes closely traced the movement and to Arya's satisfaction, she detected a flash of fear in her eyes. Arya decided to further gauge a reaction out of the seemingly perfect lady. She unsheathed Needle and held it out for Margaery to see. Arya studied her as she gazed at the blade curiously.
"Jon gave me this sword before he left for the Wall. My first kill was with this sword. I never wanted to be a lady, I wanted to be a knight. Everyone thought I would grow out of it. Not Jon though, he understood me like no one else and I, him." Arya held Needle in both of her hands, she could feel Margaery's cautious gaze on the thin blade. "I wanted to learn swordplay. I practiced with the butcher's boy."
Arya met Margaery's eyes as she continued, "Joffrey found me once doing so. At the Trident. He attacked the butcher's boy and it led to my direwolf, Nymeria biting him." Arya felt anger surge through her as she remembered the fate that met Lady and Nymeria. Margaery stayed quiet opting to silently study Arya.
"I was able to send Nymeria away. Cersei wanted justice so she had Sansa's direwolf killed instead. Joffrey killed Lady." Arya could feel the rage creeping into her voice, "He killed my father. The man who raised Jon."
"I'm sorry." Margaery said softly. It sounded genuine to Arya but she ignored her words and took Needle into her left hand once more. She sneered at Margaery condescendingly.
"You married him."
Margaery had the decency to look ashamed. "It was my duty."
"Duty." Arya scoffed, "You wanted to be queen. Just like Sansa did once." Arya took a step closer to Margaery. Needle's blade shone in the light entering the room through the window. "That's why you are marrying Jon and that is precisely why you don't deserve him."
Arya knew she was treading a fine line here. Threatening Margaery was not exactly wise, especially with Ser Loras down the corridor. But Arya could fight, she had been training tirelessly with both the Hound and Brienne. Nothing would stop her from protecting her pack.
"I can't stop you from marrying him." Arya growled, her voice low, however, she was sure Margaery could hear the threat. "But I swear my lady, betray my brother and I will kill you."
The future queen stared back at Arya defiantly. Arya was forced to give her credit for not wavering under the tip of her blade. Then again, when Arya thought about it, Margaery had weathered the likes of Cersei.
"I expect no less, Arya." Margaery replied boldly, "But rest assured, I would never dream of it. I rather like your brother."
Arya held Margaery's gaze for a moment longer before stepping back and sheathing Needle. She turned on her heel, exiting the room. She had made her point and it would do only good for Margaery if she listened.
He could feel that the hunt was coming to an end. As he padded through the snow closer and closer to his prey, he could almost taste the blood in his mouth. His prey trot obliviously in the moonlight through the clearing in the woods. A growl erupted from his throat, and he bared his teeth. He pushed his strong legs back and pranced tackling his meal to the ground. He immediately dug his sharp teeth into the deer, savoring the taste of blood and flesh.
Rickon woke up with a start, gasping desperately for air. He brought up his hand, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light, emitted from the torches, that intruded into his cell. He shut his eyes closed and tried to recollect himself, focusing on the sound of water dripping on to the stone floor. He'd been having these dreams for years but they never left him any less disconcerting. They had increased since his imprisonment in the dungeons beneath Winterfell. He had them almost every night now. His mind would wander into Shaggy Dog's while his body was fast asleep.
Rickon calculated that it had to be a fortnight since he had been captured at the Last Hearth and dragged back to Winterfell to be imprisoned and tortured in his own home. The Boltons wanted to know where Bran was and they, especially Ramsey Bolton, had been trying to force the information out of Rickon for weeks, by both physical and mental means.
The Boltons refrained from doing too much of the former. Whenever the Bolton bastard did get carried away, his father would shot him a cold glare, forcing him to cease his abuse. Rickon knew that the Boltons were capable of doing so much more for they had not even started flaying him. He would snarl and his screams would echo through the keep but it was nothing compared to what they did to him mentally. Roose Bolton had no reservations when it came to that.
They paraded the SmallJon's flayed corpse before him. The guilt gnawed at Rickon as he had stared at the body of the man who had taken him under his protection. But Rickon refused to budge even as he sat in his vomit. They tried to get to him by graphically describing Robb and his pregnant wife's death and of how they mounted his eldest brother's head on Grey Wind's body. Rickon did not sleep for nights after that and took to closing off his head when the Boltons entered the dungeons. He would plunge his mind into happier times with his family; playing with his siblings, his father telling him stories of Old and his mother singing softly to him.
Then, they brought Osha, pale and lifeless with a knife still in her heart. That almost shattered Rickon to pieces. Almost broke whatever resistance he had had left. Osha had been there for him since his family headed south and left him all alone. She had been like a mother to him. When her eyes stared at Rickon unseeing, Ramsey Bolton had had no idea of how close he was to finding out Bran's whereabouts. It had been on the tip of Rickon's tongue.
Rickon blinked several times, willing away the tears that started to fill his eyes. He had cried enough and he was surprised that he could anymore. He rested his head on the stone wall and stared at the stone wall in front of him. His mind was muddled with grief when he made out voices coming from somewhere in the dungeons.
"...An unforeseen change of events. My spies report that Jon Snow has begun marching North." Rickon recognized the cold voice as Roose Bolton's. "He has agreed to marry Margaery Tyrell. The Reach has bent the knee. The Vale has bent the knee. The Riverlands has bent the knee. Once he steps pass the Neck, the Northern houses will bend the knee."
Rickon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why were the kingdoms bending to Jon? He had last heard that Jon had taken command of what had been left of Robb's forces in the Riverlands and that Sansa had brought Vale but he had assumed it was because everyone thought he was the last male with Stark blood. The Tyrells were allied with the Lannisters, from what Rickon could recall. It took time for ravens to find their way to the Last Hearth.
"The Lannisters-" Rickon's blood boiled with sharp rage as Ramsey Bolton spoke. He clenched his fists to keep himself from alerting them he was awake.
"Our pact was with Tywin Lannister. His house is not what it once was without him. That is why I need Rickon Stark alive and whole." Rickon could almost tell that Ramsey was scowling at the suggestion.
They're coming for me. Rickon thought in awe. In his darker hours, Rickon sometimes doubted if his family ever would. He had often been overlooked as a young child and he had feared he would be once again. He worried though, would he last long enough for them to rescue him.
"Our only bargaining chip is the boy. Lucky for us, the Starks love their family. Perhaps, a tad too much for Catelyn Stark was willing to gamble away the Kingslayer for her daughters."
"I understand, father." Rickon heard Ramsey mumble. He could imagine the retort Ramsey was suppressing. "I will not disappoint you."
"That would suit us all. Your position is not as secure as you'd like, Ramsey." Lord Bolton warned his son. What followed was the sound of retreating steps.
"Give the Stark boy some water." He managed to hear Roose Bolton order from the far end of the dungeons. Rickon immediately straightened at the command. He loathed that he was so damn thirsty. He did not want anything the Boltons had to offer but he needed that water.
Theon came into view holding a water skin. He seemed to flinch when he noticed that Rickon was awake. He looked anywhere but Rickon, while he held out the container to him through the bars of his cell. Rickon considered flinging it at Theon's head but his thirst managed to overwhelm the urge. He harshly grabbed the skin out of Theon's grip and greedily downed its contents. The feeling of water washing down his throat tamed his thirst immediately. He then flung the container, through the iron bars, narrowly missing Theon's head.
His father's former ward met his eyes and Rickon was fuelled with hatred. The wolf blood in him started to sing with pure black rage. He remembered Ramsey's words. Roose Bolton had begun plotting against Robb when Theon had taken Winterfell. Theon had given him up to Ramsey Bolton and Osha was dead because of him.
Rickon stood up, his body aching while Theon turned around to pick up the flask.
"You killed Robb." Rickon growled, "You killed Osha." Theon glanced back at Rickon, shaking and refusing to meet his eyes once more.
"You killed them all!" Rickon bellowed as he slammed the cell bars with his palms, leaving his hands throbbing with pain. Theon's eyes widened and Rickon could make out tears forming in them.
Theon shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry." His voice, brittle. He clasped the flask shut and started walking away, his head hung low.
"Sorry won't bring them back." Rickon sobbed, collapsing once more on to the stone floor. For a moment, he considered calling Theon back and begging him to set him free but he thought better of it. He would not beg for help from the man who took away his home and family. Frankly, he did not wanted home anymore. All he wanted was to get out of here. The walls of his home no longer solely held memories of his childhood and laughter. They were now splattered with his blood and screams.
A/N: Poor Rickon. :( Don't forget to subscribe and review!