Sorry for the long wait. No excuses! Hopefully a long chapter will make up for it.
Rickon
"Are you sure about this?" Ralf asked.
"Of course," Rickon assured him, "no one will notice if one tiny keg goes missing." The two of them along with three other boys carefully snuck past the patrolling Unsullied and made their way to the caravan train. Hundreds of carts were lined up, packed and ready to begin the return journey to Winterfell, and all of them abandoned with hardly anyone watching over them. One section of carts in particular had nothing but barrels of wine and ale. "Ollan, Ballor, you two come with me." Rickon ordered to two the twins from White Harbor. Both of them were three years older than him, yet they followed orders loyally. "Rugory, you warg into your owl and keep watch with Ralf." Rugory was a Wildling and a war like Rick on but his skill was far greater.
"Whatever you say, Stark." Rugory replied as he sat down and got comfortable before his eyes flashed white as snow.
"Alright boys, let's go." Shrouded in the shadow of a moonless night, Rickon led the twins through the labyrinth of carts and wagons. He knew which one they had to look for, but they were the ones with the muscle to carry the goods. They kept low as they shifted silently through the snow until they found the carts with the wine and ale barrels.
"Which one has the Arbor Gold?" Ollan asked.
Rickon scanned the carts that had the Tarly Banners swinging high above them. "Look for a red archer on a field of… brownish green?"
"Brownish green?" Ballor asked. "What kind of color is that?"
"The color of horse shit." Rickon informed them.
"Like that?" Ollan pointed to a banner waving in the cold breeze. It bore the red hunter of House Tarly on field of horse shit green. "That's more bronze green, wouldn't you think?"
"Dammit, shut up about the green!" Rickon exclaimed while keeping his voice a whisper. "Now come on. We only have a little time to get the wine." The three of them snuck past the carts to the ones containing nothing but barrels of delicious wine.
Ollan climbed into the wine cart and looked at the treasure it held. "This one looks small enough. He gripped the sides of a well sized barrel and lifted with all his strength. He grunted and heavily as he carefully gave it to his brother. Ballor was slightly stronger and was able to take the barrel into his arms without breaking a sweat.
"Got it," Ballor said, "let's get out of hear."
Ollan jumped out of the cart and followed Rickon and Ballor back to where they came. As they kept their steps as quite as they could, an owl began hooting in the air not far from them.
"Hide!" Rickon whispered. The three boys ducked behind on of the larger carts and held as still as rocks. A few moments passed before a pair of patrolling guards walked by.
They all let out a sigh of relief as they were unnoticed. "come on," Rickon told them, "we're nearly in the clear."
It didn't take long for them to return to Ralf and Rugory. Rugory's eyes return to their normal golden brown and began gasping for air. Rickon still couldn't warg yet, but he knew that it did weaken the bodies of who are less experienced.
"Well done Rugory," Rickon complimented as offered his hand out, "couldn't have done this without you."
"Of course not. All the other skinchangers of the Free Folk my age are dead." He blatantly said. He was pulled from the ground and brushed the snow off his thick fur pants.
They troupe of wine thieves hurried back to Rickon's private tent and we greeted by four girls.
"Did you get the wine, Lord Stark?" An older girl from the Vale asked.
"We all got it," Rickon corrected. "Now we just wait for the goblets."
While Ballor and Ollan set the barrel up, Rickon looked around and noticed someone was missing. He approached one of the girls who was the only other Wildling with all them besides Rugory.
"Was Joanna told about tonight?"
"I told her, but she didn't want to come. She'd rather sulk in her tent."
That was upsetting to hear. Rickon hadn't seen her since a week after the battle. After that she didn't want to talk or see him. She was sad about something, but he didn't know what of. He was hoping she would want to join them for a private party of sorts to help bring her mood up. He didn't want her to miss out on the fun. He turned to Ralf seeing as he was the oldest of them all. "Go ahead and get started when the others get here. I'll be right back."
He left everyone to the warmth of his tent and exited back into the cold. He wanted all the friends he made to have a night of fun before they left to raise the mood, and he wanted everyone to be there. He knew where to find Joanna's tent. It was with the remaining Wildlings of the Frozen Shore Men.
As Rickon was nearly there, a Wildling man came out of nowhere and ran right into him. The man of was so much bigger than him that Rickon was knocked into the snow. He rolled over uncontrollably and planted his face into the snow. Before he could get up, a large hand grabbed ahold of the clothes on his back and lifted him out of the snow and a few inches of the ground.
"What are you doing here lad?" The man asked. He continued to hold Rickon as he was effortlessly while something big was slunk over his opposite shoulder. There was so much fur that it had to be an animal of a kind.
Rickon wiped snow from his eyes and said, "I came to see a friend."
"A southerner friends with the Free Folk? Pfft, probably just some fool trying to cause trouble."
"I'm not a southerner, I'm from the North. My name is Rickon Stark."
"Stark?" The animal over the man's shoulder spoke. Its body shifted and woman's head appeared. Seeing that made Rickon realize that it was no animal, just a Wildling woman. "You're the Lord of Winterfell?"
"Not Yet. Sansa's in charge until I'm ready."
The large man set Rickon down without an apology. "What are doing here?" he asked.
"I told you, I'm here for a friend. Joanna."
"Karsi's daughter?" The woman asked. "She's hasn't been feeling good lately."
"I heard, but I don't know why." Rickon told them. "but I was hoping to help make her feel better."
"Or," the man objected, "You came to steal her away in the night."
"Steal her?"
"Oh come on now, Honsar." The woman said. "He's just a boy and doesn't know our ways." She pushed herself off of the wildling's shoulder and stood just as tall as him. She reminded him of Osha, but her head was brighter in color and face longer. "You're her friend?"
"She's one of my best." Rickon stated. "But she's been avoiding for weeks now and won't tell me why, won't tell anyone."
"It's nothing you've done. She's in mourning for Tormund. He was like a father to her and Willa. But with gone, they have no one else to look after them."
"But her mother was the chief of the Frozen Shore men. Wouldn't her people care for her?"
The Wildling man, Honsar, shook his head. "The Free Folk aren't like you southern lords. She could've been the daughter of the King beyond the Wall and it wouldn't mean anything. The only leaders we follow are strong ones. Doesn't matter who came before you, unless you're a Thenn. They're the last of the clans that keep to the right of blood."
"But surely someone can care for her and her sister?"
The woman looked displeased with what she had to say. "Maybe, but it will be a long time before that happens. We won't be able to settle properly until the winter ends and we've recovered. We're too… what's the word… there's too much we have to do. They're welcome to stay with their tribe, but they will have to fend for themselves. That's just how we are."
Rickon felt saddened knowing that, and the woman took notice to it.
"Do not fret, little Lord. Karsi grew up sharing the same fate and she became one of the strongest warriors ever known."
"But still, they shouldn't have to share such a fate like that. I lost my parents, but I have someplace to call home."
"Enough," Honsar said, turning to the woman, "we've wasted too much time." He pinched the women on her bottom and she yelped out playfully. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder again left Rickon to himself, but Rickon wanted to know something first.
"Wait! What did you mean steal her?" Rickon called out.
The woman looked at Rickon while the man just kept running. "This is stealing a woman, little lord!" she laughed a little before they vanished from sight into the cover of the Wildling tents.
Rickon still didn't understand it, but from the looks of it and what she said, it must've meant that he was taking her somewhere in a fun way. Maybe they were having a party tonight as well. He didn't know much about the Wildlings to begin with, only that they told him and a few other things. They shared the blood of the First Men and worshipped the old gods, and their version of ale tastes horrible.
At the entrance of Joanna's tent, Rickon peeked inside and saw only her. She was lying down on her furs. She was dressed out of her thick fur clothes and her boats were scatter on the ground. She rested her head on her hands on didn't make a sound. She faced away from him and her honey brown hair scattered behind her back.
Rickon whispered calmly to her. "Joanna."
She turned her head and revealed that she was wide awake. "Go away. I'm not coming to your stupid thing."
"I'm not here to talk about that. Well… not anymore." Joanna sat up as Rickon entered inside her tent. "Shutting yourself away isn't going to help, it will only make it worse." Rickon sat down next to her, a little closer than he normally would.
"I don't want to talk about it with you."
"But I can't just let you stay this way. It's making me sad to see you be like this."
"I don't need your pity."
"It's not pity, it's concern. I don't want someone I care about to be sad. I want you to feel better. Please just talk to me."
Joanna sighed and fell to Rickon's persistence. "Every day of my life has been nothing but striving for survival. When I came through the Wall I thought the running, the fighting, the death, all of it would end, but it only got worse. Tormund told me that once the White Walkers were killed we could rest. But he's gone and now things are only going to get harder for me and my sister."
Rickon said he would just listen, but he couldn't help himself. "If you need help you, only have to ask."
Joanna scoffed at him. "Help? What kind of help could you possibly give? The war is over and my clan will be settling in land soon and you'll be off in your castle."
It felt unfair. She had to go back to living in the cold while he had an entire castle for himself and soon he would rule over it. That meant his word would be law, and no one could tell him otherwise in his decisions. "So come with me."
Joanna's eyes widened. "What?"
"You, your sister, come live with me in Winterfell. I am the lord by right and no one can tell you to leave if I say so."
"But… you…" She was at a loss for words. "What do you want in return?"
"Nothing. We're friends, aren't we? And friends have to look out for each other. I mean it." Rickon wasn't going to lose another person he cared for again, and he would do whatever he could to make sure that it didn't happen. Joanna surprised him by jumping onto him and hugging him tightly. Rickon grunted as he fell to the floor. The side of her face was pressed up against his. She was warm, very warm. "Joanna… can't breathe."
Joanna laughed at him and let him go. "Let me get my clothes on." She tossed her fur blankets aside and revealed that she had nothing covering her legs, only her deer hide shirt that reached just below her waist.
Rickon quickly turned around and waited for Joanna to change. His face started to warm up and he began to feel nervous for reasons he couldn't explain.
"What's the matter? Never seen a girl naked before?" Her voice was taunting to him.
"No, I haven't." Osha used to bathe him in a river before she would during their travels and she warned him that if he dared to spy on her then she would cut off his balls and feed them to Shaggydog.
"Missed your chance."
Rickon clenched his fists and started to fidget in place. He tried to take his mind off of the girl who was dressing right next to him. 'Just keep looking away, just keep looking away, do not dishonor yourself, do not dishonor yourself.'
"Alright, I'm ready." Rickon stood up and then decided to do something rather silly to get back at Joanna for teasing him so. He ducked down to Joanna and picked her up by the waist and hefted her over his shoulder. "Rickon! What're doing!?"
"I'm stealing you to the party." He told her as he exited the tent and started to run as best he could. Though wearing such heavy winter clothes made it difficult but he would not give up.
"What? Rickon no! Do you even know what you're doing!?" Joanna began to struggle and tried to free herself from his arm. She began slamming her fists on his back.
"Some of the Free Folk told me what is was and I thought it would be fun." In truth he only assumed what it was when the woman told him that being carried over a man's shoulder was getting stolen, but what else could it mean?
"Rickon, we are too young for this!"
"Oh come on, just because adults do it doesn't mean it has to be something they get to do only."
"But I'm not ready to get married!"
Rickon tripped on himself and both of them toppled into the snow. Rickon fell flat on his face and rose up with a powdery white beard of snow that clung to his skin as it started to melt. "What do you mean, married?"
Joanna rolled onto her back and started to laugh at him. "If a Wildling wishes to take a wife, he has to steal her."
Rickon felt his stomach jump into his throat and realized what he almost did. "Sorry, I thought it was just a way you have fun or something like that."
Joanna only laughed harder as she stood up. "You're lucky I told you. If the woman fails to fight back then she can't refuse the man."
By Wildling customs, Rickon would have become her husband. "I'm sorry I accidentally tried to marry you." He brushed his beard of snow off his face and saw a hand extended down to him.
Joanna was smiling at him. "At least wait until you're older." She pulled him to his feet and started walking, but Rickon was still processing what she just said.
"Wait… what?" Did she mean she wanted him to try when he was older?
"Are you going to just stand there in the cold?"
Rickon shook the thoughts out of his head and dashed forward to catch up to her. Just as he caught up, he could have sworn he saw the remnants of a smile disappear from Joanna's mouth.
The two of them remained silent together as they return to Rickon's tent. When they entered, the others had returned with the mugs for the ale, yet everyone was sitting quietly and awkwardly. It only took Rickon a few seconds to realize why when he saw Podrick and some man Jon sparred with constantly standing in his tent. He was the one that Jon had brought before the dragons and if rumor were true, shit his pants after facing them. Ser Bronn, that was his name. Next to both them siting in a chair was Tyrion Lannister.
"You know," Tyrion started, "stealing rations is a crime that could condemn you to the Wall or losing a hand." Tyrion looked at Rickon as apparent would when they caught a child in trouble. "But if wine's all you wanted, you need only to have asked for it. You are a very powerful child after all and have a great deal of authority."
Rickon gulped and cleared his throat, standing tall to the dwarf. "I could have asked, but then it wouldn't have been as much fun." There was a tense silence as Rickon and Lord Tyrion locked eyes. It didn't last long as Bronn burst out into a fit of laughter. "How did you know we took the wine?"
Tyrion smirked at him. "Wherever there is wine, I am sure to be as well." That didn't answer Rickon's question at all. "I hope you don't mind if we join you in your little party."
Rickon looked at the keg they had and then quickly counted how many were in his tent. "With three men, I don't think it'll last as long as we hoped."
Tyrion smiled at him. "Then it's a good thing I brought some of my own." Podrick stepped aside and revealed another keg that was hiding behind him. It was larger than the one Rickon and the others nicked from the carts "I procured this from the cellars of Dragonstone. Never tasted anything with such a kick like this has. It's called Kasta Zaldrīzes. In the common tongue it means Green Dragon."
Rickon eyed the barrel then looked around his tent. Everyone was staring at him. "What are you all looking at me for? We're here to drink aren't we?" With that said, some of the boys shoved each other to get to the first drink of the Arbor Gold.
While Podrick and Bronn set up the keg of the Green Dragon, everyone began to get into their cups of the wine. Rickon had only drank Northern drinks and some of the Free Folk's fermented milk on a dare, but this would be the first time he had ever tried any kind of wine. Actually, it might be the first time anyone besides the men would be trying wine. When Rickon had his first taste, he didn't expect it to be so sweet. The flavor had a reminiscent taste of ale, but it was richer and far sweeter.
Rickon was in his third cup and chatting with some of the boys and Ser Bronn. They were telling stories and laughing like children should. Rugory was in the middle of telling a story about how he tricked his older brother to share a bed with one of the village elders. "I swear by the gods I never heard someone scream as loud as Vigrik did when he was chased out of that tent with'n axe after im. But e got me back. He told me it was possible for us wargs to enter the minds of women if we're close'nough. So I snuck close to one of the pretty ones when she was changing and tried to do it. But all that happen was me getting caught'n a bruised eye." One of the other boys laughed so hard that wine came out of his nose and all laughter was at him now. "But once I learned how to warg, watching women undress has never been easier." Rugory took a proud swig of his wine while the other boys stared at him in envy.
"Ha!" Bronn laughed. "If you just keep watchin them then you're never gonna fuck them."
"I'm only fourteen."
"So? I was thirteen when I had my first go. And now I'm betrothed to a Dornish woman." There was an awkward silence as if everyone was supposed to know what that had to do with anything. "They fuck like rabbits."
Everyone finally realized what he meant and their envy changed from Rugory to Ser Bronn.
Rickon had just finished his cup when he noticed Joanna and some on the other girls looking at him, all the while giggling. 'Did she just tell them I almost married her?' He thought. He smiled back and they all turned away.
Before he could go get another cup of wine, Lord Tyrion got in his way. "Pardon my, Lord Stark. Am much as I enjoy drinking and you as well I see, might I have word before either of us gets too far into their cups?"
Rickon wasn't feeling affected by the wine. It wasn't as strong as Northern ale was. But it would be wise to take a break. He politely nodded and took a seat with Lord Tyrion.
Tyrion set his goblet to the side so he could give Rickon his full attention. "As you know, I, as Hand to the King and Queen, am also responsible for maintain order and peace in the realms. At least the ones we have governance over. Do you know what that means?"
"You help them rule when there's to much for them to do."
"Very astute of you. But as of right now, I would like to offer my services and council to you."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because when we return to Winterfell, the King and Lady Sansa have decided to make it official."
"What official?"
"Your Lordship of course. Your brother Brandon is still in his sleep, but he denounced his claim over the position when he returned. You shall no longer be heir, but Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Rickon failed to speak. His mouth opened but his tongue and lips formed no words. And his voice had vanished from his body. "After much discussion with the both of them and a near scolding from Lady Lyanna Mormont, we all believe that you are ready."
"But… I don't know if I am."
"My dear boy, the King has told me much of what you have done. You tried Theon Greyjoy both mercifully and justly. You stood your ground against the Northern Lords when you thought they betrayed Jon for allying with Daenerys. Though you may see it as minor, you put your life at risk for your friends during a hunt and helped organize the defense of the camps during the battle. You are young, Rickon Stark, but you have what it takes to be a lord, a good one I might add. However I must advise that you refrain from actions such as stealing supplies. I won't let it slip that you did to your family. I've done worse things at your age, believe me. But if you do not believe that you are ready to become a lord, then we won't force you. However, if you do think that you are, I must give warning to the weight of responsibility you will be taking."
"A Warning? Why would I need a warning?"
"Because you are still a child and you will become one of the most powerful people in all of Westeros. While we are at a calm for now, many will try to sneak their way into the power you have."
"How would they do that?"
Tyrion hesitated to answer. "Perhaps some wine would actually make this go smoother, but then again… oh dammit all. You are still young, but soon you will be old enough to take a wife. Powerful alliances could be made with your marriage and many would take advantage of that power. My father tried to when he had me wed your sister."
"That does remind me, are the two of you still married?"
"Oh no, no no no, we had a kind septon annul our marriage. It was unconsummated which made everything much easier. But unlike your sister, who ever you marry will have to take the name Stark. But just because that name is still the power of the north, it doesn't mean that it will be like the Starks before you."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing, I am merely offering my help to root out the snakes and find someone who would both be honorable to you and create an alliance that the realm needs."
And all of this was if he decided to become a lord now. It all seemed less hard to do when all they had to worry about were the white walkers and the winter, but now they had to worry about those around them. How many would try to use him like Littlefinger tried to use Sansa? How many would try and usurp his family's seat like the Boltons and Lannisters tried? "What about Sansa and Arya? What plans do you have for them?"
"Sansa and I are still discussing a few things. As for Arya… she took the initiative and found herself a match."
That was surprising to hear. Arya never wanted to become a lady until now it seemed. "Who did she find?"
"Gendry Baratheon. And if they marry then the union of houses Stark and Baratheon King Robert wanted will be made and the Stormlands will be bound to the King and Queen."
Arya was lucky then. She would spend more with Gendry than she used to with Jon. They were friends and for something like that to happen was rare. Rickon didn't realize it, but his gaze drifted over to Joanna and Tyrion noticed.
"My my, is there someone you have in mind?"
"No, it's just… convenient is all. I almost got married tonight by Free Folk customs and here you are talking about it."
"You stole a girl did you?" Rickon returned his gaze to Tyrion, amazed that he knew about stealing. "I've been discussing things with the Free Folk and familiarizing myself with their customs."
"I didn't mean to do it. If she wasn't my friend I wouldn't have done it." A part of him wished he had done it though. He liked her more than just a friend and she did practically say to try again. "What if I could do what Arya did?"
"It what sense? Do something in defiance that works to our benefits?"
"No, find someone who I choose and who would also choose me and at the same time create a powerful alliance?"
Tyrion's brow arched high. "Do explain your idea."
"The Free Folk are going to be part of the North now, but there's still some conflict between them and the people. What if I could do something that solidified that they are Northerners just as much as we are?"
"And by something you mean talking one of them as a wife?"
"By their customs I'd have to steal her."
Tyrion started to chuckle lightly to himself. "I'll see if I can convince the other elders of such a proposal. I have already arranged three marriages between the Free Folk and some of the Northern Lords, but something like this could be a powerful symbol to both people. But if you want this to happen, then you'll have to take the job. Can you do that?"
"If this is what it takes, then yes. I'll become the Lord of Winterfell."
Tyrion smiled at him and retrieved both of their goblets from the table. "Then let us drink to such a night of planning and reward." Instead of going to the keg of Arbor gold, Tyrion filled the cups full of the Green Dragon. "I advise caution with this drink. It has a spice to the flavor." He handed Rickon's goblet to them and they both held them before drinking. "to the new Lord of Winterfell."
"And the victory over the dead." Rickon added before they clinked their goblets and drank the wine. When the last bit went down Rickon's throat, he immediately felt his face go hot. The taste had no explanation to it that made sense. It was like a he could taste fire if it had a flavor. His senses began to blur and he lost track of himself. He was beginning to regret trying the wine Lord Tyrion shared with him. His face was feeling hot enough to end winter. He nearly fumbled over someone and tripped to the ground. Regardless, Rickon decided to sit down and leaned against his nightstand. Everything was becoming hazy and he felt a spell of dizziness overcome him. Within minutes he fell asleep against his desire.
His thoughts did not calm down to rest. Everything was bouncing from one side of his skull to the other and everything in his brain was completely chaotic.
Rickon's eyes started to open slowly. His vision was blurred and he couldn't remember where he was for a brief second. He could see through the entrance of his tent the light of morning barely beginning to brighten outside. As things began to focus, his head began to ache lightly. He took in his surroundings as his vision slowly returned to him. Everyone had fallen asleep in his tent except for Lord Tyrion and his companions. In fact they were nowhere to be seen, along with the wine, the goblets, and any evidence to show that they had all been drinking last night. 'did he steal the wine for himself, or hide it as a favor?' Whatever the reason, they wouldn't be caught and that was good enough for him.
Rickon felt something move on his shoulder and he turned to see what. Joanna was fast asleep next to him, her head resting on Rickon's shoulder. The warm feeling he had last night in her tent returned and he decided to let her rest there for a bit longer.
As Rickon shifted to make himself more comfortable to rest for a bit longer, he saw someone standing in his tent, a man it looked like. Whoever it was, he wasn't there a moment ago and came inside without making a sound.
Still feeling drowsy, Rickon tried to focus on the man's face alone and began to recognize it. It looked like his father, but with shorter hair and no beard. No, it wasn't him, it was Bran. But it couldn't be. Bran was still asleep in his bed as he had been for near a month now. In a state just like when he was pushed from the Broken Tower in Winterfell. And he was a cripple, so how was he able to stand?
Without muttering a single sound, Bran moved down to Rickon, almost gliding, and placed his hand over Rickon's face.
Rickon felt a cold sensation overtake his senses and he suddenly felt like he was falling fast into an abyss. The next thing he knew, he was flying at the edge of an orchard in the body of a raven. He could feel a chilled breeze blow through the feather of his wings. In the distance, perhaps two miles or so, was a pale castle. He couldn't make out the banners that hung from the ramparts, but he could see the main color was purple, maybe pink. The castle wasn't too far from a lake, or maybe it was the ocean. The sun was just rising over the horizon and illuminating the land with its warm light. Around the land were patched of snow, freshly fallen but soon to melt away.
As if appearing from nowhere, a group of women were tending to the trees. There looked to be a pair of knights keeping their distance, but obviously on guard.
The noises around were mostly quiet. Nothing but the sound of the breeze and the crashing of waves could be heard. But all of that ended when a flock of ravens far to the east of Rickon began calling out.
"M'lady," one of the women said to one of the younger ones, "you really mustn't trouble yourself with our labors. It's not fitting for your position."
The younger woman smiled at the older woman as she cut a dead branch off a tree she tended to. "As a lady, is it not my responsibility to care for my people and my lands?"
"Yes m'lady." The older woman responded. She didn't sound annoyed or upset, but rather defeat in a pleasant way. "But such tasks are very belittling to your position."
"I've spent my life doing nothing but work in a tavern and I find that being a lady of a castle gives me far less to do. I have the time, so I will spend it how I see fit until my children awaken and my duties turn to them."
Some of the other women giggled lightly. One of the younger ones spoke to the Lady of the castle. "I'm glad the Lord chose you instead of his intended, Lady Neela. I heard Lord Footly's daughter is mean young thing."
"And four years older," one of the older women said, "would've been a nasty match indeed."
The sound of the ravens began to grow louder and more annoying as it caught the attention of the women.
"Damn birds," an older woman said, "why do they have to ruin such a lovely morning?"
The flock of ravens began to move to the northeast, calling as loud as the could.
"Something must be troubling them." Lady Neela said. She set down her pruning knife and walked to the end of the orchard. She looked out to the flock and watched as they hovered just above the horizon.
Rickon felt a familiar presence coming from the ravens, one he hadn't felt since he warged with Jon and Bran his first time. Bran, the flock was Bran's, it had to be.
Rickon heard the beginnings of what he thought was thunder approaching. But the skies were clear with not a cloud in sight. He flew to the Bran's flock to see if he could find what was making the ravens riled up.
Finally, peeking over the hill ahead of the orchard like a wave of rising water, a small group of riders were galloping to them all. But then more appeared until there were hundreds of riders charging for the orchard and the castle.
One of the guards stepped ahead of Lady Neela and tried to get a better look. "Who is that?"
Coming from the castle, a bell began to ring loud. Everyone around began to panic at each clang of the metal. "Back to the castle!" Lady Neela called out. "We're under attack!"
All the ladies and the two guards immediately stopped what they were doing and began to retreat to the pale castle by the ocean.
The riders seemed to noticed as they began to cry out for battle. The branches of the trees began to rattle from the thundering of the approaching army. It looked like there was no end to the riders, like they were the size of the Dothraki Horde.
Rickon followed the women and guards as they ran to the castle. He felt the desire to help, but what could he do but watch? He could see the women running as fast as they could, but he could also see that it would be in vain. Before they even reached the end of the orchard it had become surround. Some of the riders road through the trees. One of the guards took a stand against a horse headed straight for him but the other was struck in the neck be a long spear. The remaining guard drew his sword and parried a lance away from him. He immediately struck at the horse's legs and cut one of them off. The rider was thrown from the saddle and hit one of the trees. He didn't move when he fell to the floor, most likely dead from a broken neck. But the one kill was all the guard would get as a another lance struck the guard's helm and took his head off.
The women were surrounded and it wasn't long until they were beaten and seized. Those that took them brought them all to the bridge that led to the gates of the castle. The army of horses waited at the edge, only a few accompanied the women.
Rickon flew to the battlements of the pale castle and perched himself on a ledge that gave him full view and it was close enough to hear everything.
One of the riders dismounted his horse and stepped forward. He was bald and dark skinned and wore armor that wasn't like any ever seen in Westeros. At the same time, six guards lined up on the battlements and aimed crossbows at him.
The dark skinned man smirked as he looked up to the guards. "Pleasant morning, would you say? Clear skies and a wonderful sea breeze. I don't get to see days like this in Essos that's for sure."
The guards remained silent.
"Now as you can see, we have hostages." He gestured to the women. "One of them I think you'll be very interested in." As if cued, some of the other men forced Lady Neela forward. She had a bruised lip and a cut above her brow. When the guards saw her, they slightly lowered their crossbows down.
The dark took hold of Lady Neela by the arm and threw her to the ground. "Now then, my name is Illorno Drennah, commander of the Long Lances. With me are a few other well-known Sellsword commanders. Blood Beard of the Company of the Cat," There was a man as big as Sandor Clegane with a long red beard on a horse near the foot of the bridge, "Dark Iron of the Ragged Standard," A man covered head to toe in black armor rode next to Blood Beard, "and Harley of the Jolly Fellows," the last man wore a dress of chainmail with nothing over it expect a steel pin of a laughing face. He was bald like Illorno except he had a metal pin pierced in his nose. "As much as we are itching for a fight, there wouldn't be much of one with fifteen against eight thousand. So If you surrender the castle to us, we will spare your lives and you shall be prisoners of war."
Lady Neela rose to her knees. "They cannot surrender the castle unless I order them."
Illorna drew a dirk at his side and held the blade to Neela's check. "Then this will be much easier. Order them to open the gate, or we will rape all of you until you can barely breath. The last breath of course will be you ordering the gates open for us anyway. But if you need proof of my conviction," Illorna nodded to one of his men who was with the rest of the women. The man drew a dirk from his belt and without hesitation stabbed one of the women in the neck. She fell to the ground and bled to death in just a few seconds. "Now tell them to open the gate." Illorno shoved Neela back to the ground and stood behind her with the dirk against her back. "Though I actually hope you don't. I've always wanted to fuck a girl spoiled from birth by her rich lord father."
Lady Neela began to laugh at him which no one expected. "I didn't grow up in a castle, I grew up in a tavern. And one thing I learned is when someone lies to me." She raised her head to the guards on the battlements. "Ser Raymen!"
One of the guards lowered his crossbow and locked eyes with her.
"Take the ships north!" Illorno hit her in the back of the head with his fist, knocking her out.
"Fucking hells. Was hoping we could keep this place but I guess not." Illorno turned to his men and picked Neela off the ground. "They refuse to surrender so we have our orders, burn this place to the ground!" The other women were killed immediately before dozens of archers moved forward on the bridge, all of them had blue flaming arrows knocked in their bows.
Ser Raymen and his men ducked down, but there was no need as the arrows missed completely. The sailed up to one of the towers past the inner courtyard and struck the stone. It did next to nothing to damage the castle, but moments later a large ball of fire came sailing from the thousands of riders and crashed into the castle where the arrows hit. The tower remained standing but some of the stone was knocked in, exposing the inside. Another hit and it would crumble. Hidden in the mass of soldiers were catapults, all loaded and ready to fire.
Just barely, Illorno could be heard. "She's got spirit this one. But won't do much in King's Landing. Have twenty men take her to Queen Cersei."
Ser Raymen looked down from the battlements, frustrated more than anything. "Retreat to the ships!"
Before Rickon to watch anymore, a ball of fire hit the ledge he was one and the moment the flames consumed the raven he awoke back to himself. The pain of the flames remained and Rickon could feel the burns all over his body as he screamed out in pain. It didn't last long and only a phantom memory of it remained.
The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by Arya, Jon, Sansa, Joanna, and Meera. His mind felt scarred and all the memories of what he saw began to fade away like a dream. Only bits and pieces remained.
"He's coming back." Meera said.
Jon sighed out. "Are you alright? You've been like this for an hour."
Rickon was still coming to himself, but he was able to mutter some words. "Bran… he showed me a vision."
"Bran? He's been asleep for asleep, how could he have shown you anything?"
"It was a castle under attack by sellswords…"
"The mercenaries from Essos. Did you see any banners on the castle or anything that could tell us where it was?"
Rickon could hardly remember anything about the castle or lands around it. There were women, but he could remember any names. It was like a memory lost that he was on the edge of finding but couldn't reach. "I don't remember anything else, but… I think the next war has just begun."
