Thank you for all the lovely reviews. Sometimes that small act makes a world of difference in my drab, little life.

Chapter 37: Rickon and Bran

I stared at the imposing walls of Winterfell, all sturdy grey walls with robust guard posts bursting at close intervals across the exterior enclosure. It was far from what I thought it to be.

On the roads here, I had imagined my home many times. I had imagined it tall and regal. I had imagined it ragged from the years of the war. But my mind had always conjured very near the same things and it always seemed to be colored by my own home. I imagined it run down. I imagined it as nothing more than a shell containing another set of obstacles, another set of trials.

But striding slowly along the long, well-kept road that led to the castle entrance, I felt… at peace. Trees, weighed down by snow, stood silent guard in the distance. Torches cast comforting warmth along the walls of the keep and I could see the tender embrace of the many fires sustained in the homes of Winterfell, lighting the darkening sky above. The smoky, familiar burn of wood and roasting meat drifted to me on a chill breeze and Theon and Sansa gave identical groans of recognition at the scent.

A small smile had begun to curl my husband's lips as we drew nearer to his home, his eyes lighting from their normal dark watchfulness. It was an expression that I found myself drawn back to over and over again, my eyes gobbing up the loosening of his shoulders, the way his strong jaw relaxed, his brow easing with every step we took.

My breath caught as we finally came near enough for one of the guards manning the wall to call out a sharp, indistinguishable command, sending a few others scrambling to do his bidding. We had sent birds to not only Winterfell but also my own home. We had received no response to either which was more enraging on the front of my father than anyone else.

The construction of Winterfell intrigued me. It was odd - like nothing I had ever seen. To one side was a massive expanse of walls and stone structures rising into the dark like sleeping beasts. It was by far the biggest structure that I had ever encountered, dwarfing the Bolton keep by at least 3 times. But that wasn't what my eyes were drawn to.

Connected by a slim section of bridges and enclosures was another circular patch of wall, just as heavily guarded but instead of the expected building roofs and towers, the bushy tops of trees poked over. I blinked, trying to focus enough to determine what was going on. It looked to be a massive forest and in the dark I could barely make out the blood red of one massive tree at the center.

"What's that?" My inside's felt like they were vibrating - warming as I stared longer and longer at that one blood splay of leaves reaching like a million hands up to the endless sky. In supplication or prayer - I hardly knew.

Beside me, Daltis followed my gaze and I heard him draw in a quick breath. We had taken to riding together these last few days, both of us keeping to the silence of our own thoughts most of time. It felt…good to have him beside me. Good to know that words didn't need to be spoken and that, most of the time he didn't want them from me. But we were always no more than a few horses behind Robb, our riding order changing suddenly after the Bolton's. He never said a word about it but sometimes I would catch the Wolf King's eyes trained on me, his eyes eating away at every little twitch of discomfort.

"You felt that already, little wife?" Robb's smirk was a wicked slash, the glint of one cool gray eye trapping me. His canines shone in the torchlight cast from distant fires and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine at the way his gaze raked over me in open appreciation. Here, in Winterfell, he looked almost more wolf than man, languid and lethal like a beast returning to its lair. "That, my love, is the Godswood. It's the sanctuary of one of the last weirwoods. My ancestors built our home around that one tree."

His eyes held such pride - not the lethal kind, not the kind that got your throat slit in the middle of the night. No - this was a different sort. This sort of pride was the kind that was passed from parent to child. The kind that bordered on pleasure - pleasure at a job well done, pleasure at the thought that his ancestral home still remained with the ones who made it and that he still had the honor of protecting it. I could see that same pride reflected in Sansa's own face as she rode just behind me, if not softer with just a bit more fury in the lines of her brow.

My eyes slid back to that far-away glimpse of scarlet on the horizon, something inside of me yawning open in silent recognition. In greeting.

"It's very powerful," I found myself whispering before I had time to fully develop the thought. The farther north we came, the more alive the woods became. The more I could hear the distant whisper, of promises on the wind.

Robb's eyes shone with something dark and possessive, trailing along my face in such a way that I felt it like the touch his own hands. "I know," he said and I wasn't entirely sure if we were talking about the weirwood anymore.

He held my eyes for a second longer before turning back to the silent gates at our front. A shiver coursed down my spine and it had nothing to do with the howling evening wind.

There were three distinct sections to Winterfells, sturdy walls cutting off each like islands that needed to be separated. The first was the most comforting - a town filled with taverns and inns and homes that burst with bawdy songs and hearth light. It was late but children still sprinted through the streets, their parent's calls nipping at their heels. People stopped and bowed to us, letting out watery cries of joy at the sight of Robb and Sansa and even Theon, which they all returned with oddly intimate conversations.

These people knew each other. From the baker that whispered to Robb about his losses, giving away all that the war had taken in return to the copper-haired girl that Sansa cooed over, causing her mother to burst into tears as she recalled the last time she had held the girl as a babe. This - these people - they felt far more like a family than I had anticipated. Even our guards had drifted away, some of them bellowing as they caught sight of loved ones.

I had expected a parade, one filled with the glow of a war won and all the false triumph that came with it. Instead, I found myself in the midst of a homecoming. And it felt infinitely more humbling. Each greeting was long and filled with the ache of years lost, of lives that had been taken.

Daltis and I shared a long, strained glass, each of us stiffening at the open wounds that seemed to pulse with each interaction. My skin felt oddly sensitive, my brain trying and failing to differentiate my own loss with theirs. I could sense the same discomfort coming from my half-brother, each of us shying away from the crowd of people starting to grow around us.

"This is your Queen?" a haggard-looking woman in the heaviest green dress I had ever seen mused, her eyes twinkling up at us. She had made a great show of making Theon lean down so that she could pinch his cheeks when she had first come upon us.

Amusement sparkled in Robb's eyes as smirked down at the woman. "She is our Queen, Helna."

Helna whistled, grinning up at me in open admiration. "Oh, dearie! Wrapped around her little finger, aren't you, boy?" I stared down at her in awe, eyes flicking between my husband and her.

"It's the best place for a man to be," Sansa replied dryly, earning her a flick from Robb and the laughter of much of our circle.

I stared on dumbly. This… this held a strange edge of danger, the knife's edge of stark realization creeping across my insides as I watched their eyes shut in joy. Joy at each other's company. My own unease spiked farther. Here there would be no easy games of winning loyalty. Here a person's allegiance was won by one thing alone: whether they liked you or not.

We moved through another series of guard towers and thick walls. I marveled at the defenses, struck suddenly dumb by the sheer degree of protection. Stationed at the very middle of the final, great space was the keep, smoke rolling from it like a great slumbering beast slowly exhaling. Snow-capped cylindrical spires that reached so far up into the night that I lost sight of the tops.

I gaped, feeling more and more like a dull, little fish-wharf urchin than ever before. The very thought that someone would leave this magnificent place and come to find a wife in my squalid home seemed laughable. I suddenly had the uneasy feeling that I had been tricked. That the Starks had engineered some grand scheme that would end in me being tossed into the mud while they laughed.

"You look a bit overwhelmed, little wife." Heat crept across my cheeks at my husband's soft, lilting voice. He slowed his great steed to a crawl beside my own. Long ago, Grey Wind had loped off, done with our company and in need of meat from the kennels.

We made our way slowly closer, the imposing double doors outfitted in iron renderings of wolves feasting on the hides of anything from rabbits to roaring beasts adorning the front. The tunnels had opened to a cobblestoned courtyard, guard barracks and kennels taking up a massive segment to our left. To our right were wide open training grounds with well-trod-upon fighting rings.

Just a few paces away, the massive doors started to slowly open.

"I…" I fought for my next words. "I was just admiring your stonework, my lord."

His eyes slid over me, critical in the evening dim. "I didn't take you for a mason, my lady."

My eyes narrowed at the title. I didn't much like it when it was turned upon me. "One doesn't need to be in the profession to admire," I replied tightly.

I thought I caught the hint of a smirk curling his lips, his eyes turning forward. "If I didn't know you better, I could have bet that you were…intimidated."

I bristled. It would be utterly humiliating to meet his kin under these emotions, especially if he knew. "It's a good thing that you don't, then," I replied tartly, turning my eyes adamantly forward. "Know me, I mean."

"Mm," he replied ambiguously and I felt the burn of his eyes along my tense shoulders and tight lips. "A shame. I would give my last breath to slide inside that gorgeous, cunning, stubborn head of yours."

My breath left me in a hard gasp, my head whipping around to gape at him. He didn't even blink, kicking his horse forward.

"Imagine how well I could pleasure you if I got a peek inside, dear wife," his voice dripping with the silky promise of sin.

Air rushed past my lunges in embarrassing gulps; my eyes stuck to the dark silhouette of him as he wheeled his steed to a halt a few feet away from me. He didn't so much as look back at me, his face a nonchalant mask. It was infuriating. It was…making me feel like I was melting from the inside out.

And what made it worse was that my own skin, my very soul, felt starved for it. For everything that those heavy-lidded looks that I had caught him casting me, his eyes always on me before I even searched him out, had promised. I felt him like a wish that my body hadn't cast yet. I felt his very presence like the sharpest graze of a knife along my ribs, anticipating the pain but never receiving it. I wanted to please him. I wanted him to please me.

But that urge in itself somehow always twisted, turning wretched from one breath to the next. I felt guilty. Guilty that I had these urges, these frivolous impulses when my brother… when my sister… I gulped, tearing my eyes away in time to catch Daltis' stare, his eyes keen as they pinned me. And that made me feel even more foul, my stomach turning as I turned hurriedly away.

I was a horrid, pathetic creature.

But that didn't stop how my soul ached for his.

"Brother!"

I was grateful for the sudden yell, the courtyard cracking with it.

My mare and I slowly drew closer, taking in the blur of a dark figure - all wild hair and lanky limbs - darting from the keep. The boy nearly bowled Robb over in his enthusiasm, his laughter bursting all around like sparks erupting. I watched in wonder as my husband's face cracked into an expression of such joy and relief that it made my chest ache.

Beside him, Sansa had hurriedly slipped from her own mount, hiking her skirts higher. A laugh bubbled from her, breaking as it morphed into a sob.

"Rickon!" And then all three of them were crumpled into a tight, little ball of dark, messy curls in varying shades of red. Each held a strange sort of beauty, wild and harsh like their home.

"Gods, you're a head taller," Robb whispered out, his voice cracking as he whispered the words into his brother's hair. He pressed his face closer and my heart broke open at the relief that softened his face. And just at the edge - that pain that no one seemed to be able to escape even in the midst of such elation. He tugged both of his siblings so close that they let out identical huffs. His voice was thick when he spoke next. "You still smell like hot horse shit too."

"Ach," Rickon whined, his face twisting as he pushed away from his brother. "You always knew how to ruin a good moment."

"You do smell like dung," Sansa sobbed, tears rolling in fat rivulets down her cheeks before she yanked him back to her.

"I hope I came at the backend of all the hugs," a voice like smooth water running over rocks called. There was a calm depth to this voice that I had never quiet heard before and my head tipped to the side just in time to see a lumbering mass of shadows draw closer.

A shaft of light caught the silhouettes, illuminating them as they came closer. A large, white-haired man who looked big enough to lift a horse pushed at a chair with wheels, the boy sitting upon it packed down with so many furs that he looked more beast than man. My mouth went dry as I felt a pulse of… something. I stared harder, taking in the sharp cheekbones and proud nose. His hair was long, almost midnight black in the night. He had the same stern brow as Robb, his eyes fathomless and somehow unbearably gentle as he smiled softly at his siblings.

As I watched, skin humming at the sudden appearance, those eyes turned on me, that smile never slipping.

"And you… you must be Willa Frey."

If you could leave a review that would mean the world to me!