Rickon was a big-boy. He would be five years old soon, and he was already taller than his mother's belly-button! Arya still called him a baby, but Arya was always in trouble. Mother said not to listen to her when she spoke like that. Anyway, even she wasn't allowed to sword-fight, so that had to count for something. That's right, Rickon was such a big-boy that Father allowed him to start training at swords! So, they were wooden, and he hadn't been allowed to fight yet, only hold the wooden weapon and swing at the air, but only big-boys were even allowed onto the training grounds in the first place.

Big-boys were brave. Robb was brave. Bran was brave. Even Arya (rude as she was, and not technically a big-boy) was brave. They weren't scared of storms and they did not run to their parents' bed when thunder rattled them from sleep. They probably didn't even wake up when the sky boomed with a raging storm.

But Rickon wasn't quite that big yet, and a particularly angry crash of thunder had brought him swiftly into consciousness not ten minutes ago. Channeling his courageous elder brothers, the boy had tried his hardest to ignore the commotion and fall back asleep, but a jarringly bright whip of lightning cemented his wakefulness. If his heart sped up slightly at every subsequent crash and flash, it was not because he was afraid. Startled, maybe, but not afraid! And if he left his room, lantern in hand, to seek company, it was out of boredom, not for comfort!

The only problem was, no one was awake at this time of night, and he really, really didn't want to bother someone's sleep just because of a little rain. Going on an adventure through Winterfell would have been appealing, but it was so dark tonight with the moon hiding behind thick clouds, and the castle was always a little creepy at night. Add the storm on top of that and an adventure was suddenly the last thing Rickon wanted.

So, clutching his lantern with both of his hands (it was rather heavy, even for him), he tentatively padded down the stairs, hoping beyond hope to see light coming from the cracks in one of his siblings' doors.

No luck from Arya's room, although she would probably tell him to go away even if she was awake. Bran, Sansa, and even his half-brother Jon's rooms were all pitch black as well. About to give up hope, Rickon made the last half-turn up the tower and saw, to his delight, a slight flicker spilling from under the door of his eldest brother's chambers. He scurried up to the doorway, quickly as to get there before another rumble from the sky, and quietly opened the door just a fraction.

Peering through the door's small opening, he wasn't reassured in the slightest. Robb was, indeed, awake, although his eyes were screwed shut. His face was alarmingly red, too, and his breaths were coming in quick pants. Rickon would have assumed his brother was in the middle of a nightmare, except that Robb was a big-big-boy, basically a man grown, and big-boys did not have nightmares! Plus, that wouldn't explain why Theon was in the bed, hovering over Robb and running his hands up and down bare sides. Maybe Robb was having a nightmare, and Theon was trying to wake him up? That made enough sense, but there were countless easier ways to do that than gently rubbing someone. And why did they have to be naked to do that?

There was no making it make sense, Rickon decided. Maybe this was just one of the many, many things he would understand "when he was older", like Theon's jokes to his older siblings, or the stories Theon told when he thought the youngest Stark wasn't listening, or... anything to do with Theon Greyjoy, now that he thought about it. Maybe that's why Mother doesn't want us around him, Rickon realized. He's too difficult to understand.

But Robb clearly had no trouble on that front (he was a big-big-boy, after all). They both knew what they were doing, foreign as it seemed to Rickon. The oldest Stark brother was matching every movement from Theon with one of his own, his own hands stroking over bare shoulders and neck in time with the other's exploration of rib-cage and chest. A blanket was pulled over their bottom-halves but riding low enough that he could tell that they were bare there, too. The ironborn would occasionally grind down with his hips, to which Robb would reply by pressing upwards. The noise this elicited sounded quite pained to Rickon, who instantly became worried for his brother. Is Theon hurting him?

Robb's hands left the other's shoulders and came to tangle in dark, frazzled hair, visibly tugging slightly and pulling a deep, throaty noise from him. A noise that was, very quickly, muffled by a clash of mouths. Rickon could only assume they were trying to kiss, but this was nothing like the quick press-of-lips that his parents shared in greeting or departure, so he couldn't be sure. Really, with all of the tongue and teeth involved here, with all of the lip-biting, it looked more like they were trying to eat each other. Indeed, Theon moved his attention to a collar bone and bit down hard, worrying at it for a minute as Robb's hand tightened in his hair. After a moment he traveled back upwards, leaving a wet and glaringly red mark in his wake. Another bite, this time on his neck, and Robb let out another pained gasp.

Now Rickon was frightened. He's eating him! He's eating my brother! A particularly violent crash came from outside, accompanied by the brightest flash of lightning Rickon had ever seen. Forget frightened, even a big-boy would be scared senseless by that! And senseless he was, wailing in fear and bolting from the doorway. He left the door ajar in his haste, but couldn't be bothered to turn back.

He hadn't meant to end up at the door to his parents' chambers (he hadn't!), but he soon found himself standing right outside of it nevertheless. Half of his mind was telling him not to go in, that a big-boy would be brave enough to go back to Robb's room and save him himself. The other, much more convincing half said otherwise. Anyone could be scared for their brothers, after all. Trying his best to calm his shaking hands and teary face, the young boy threw open the heavy door and barreled into his mother's side of the bed.

"Mother! Mother, wake up, please!" came his plea as he shook the poor woman desperately from her slumber.

"Rickon?" she asked sleepily. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Did the storm wake you?"

He chose to ignore that question. After all, there was a much more important matter at hand. "He's eating him, Mother!"

A truly confused look washed over her. "Eating? Who's eat- what?" There was no time for this. With all of the urgency he could muster, Rickon climbed into the bed and looked his mother dead in the eyes.

"Theon's eating him, mother! He's going to die!" He could feel the tears on his cheeks, but at this point was past caring. His big brother, his brave big brother, wouldn't be saved at this rate!

His mother only sighed wearily and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "It wouldn't be Robb that Theon was 'eating', would it?" She asked. How did she know?

"Yes!" He shouted back, not so sure that anything could be done now. No one was taking him seriously! Did Robb mean so little to them? "He was biting him on the neck really hard, I saw it! And-and Robb was screaming!"

Another sigh and Catelyn Stark rolled over to her husband. "Did you hear that, Ned?" She nudged the man beside her, who groaned in confirmation. Rickon hadn't even realized he was awake. "Theon's eating our son. Someone has to go save him."

Rickon's lord father could not have looked less excited about the prospect of rescuing his eldest child, but with a tired grumble, he stood from the bed and made his way to the door, only stopping to wrap a dressing robe around his night clothes. "I'll be only a minute," he said but didn't sound too convinced.

Once his footsteps fell beyond earshot, Rickon cuddled into his mother's side, hugging her desperately. She ran a soothing hand through his auburn curls, so much like her own, and planted a kiss on a wet cheek.

"I'm sorry, mother. I didn't mean to be scared." She only hummed and rubbed circles into her youngest boy's back.

"Don't apologize, my love. Even the biggest-boys get scared sometimes. Just go to sleep, hm?"

"But Robb-"

"Will be just fine. You'll see."

He was still suspicious, but if anyone could make sure of Robb's safety it was Father, and Mother never lied. So, realizing just how sleepy he truly was in the warmth of his mother's hug, the youngest Stark finally let his fears go for the night and he slipped quickly into a blissful slumber.