Winterfell 302 AC.

Jon Snow.

He had never ridden so hard and so fast in all his years, never felt so close and yet so far away as the horse raced across the frozen ground. A thousand yards, eight hundred, five hundred, one. Jon could see the panic in his brother's eyes, the worry on his face, and the strain he was putting himself under as he ran for his life. The arrows had missed and each time they had he'd felt hopeful. He'd believed right up to the moment the arrow hit his brother in the chest and he fell to the ground and never before had he felt hatred and sadness in such equal measures.

Jon didn't need to look to see Rickon breathe his last, his heart told him that he had. Long before he looked down on his brother's body he'd known and all sense left him as he rode towards the man who'd taken him from him. The plans he made were long abandoned and he cared not, the chances he had to reach Ramsay were practically non-existent and he cared not. He'd taken his brother from him, just like others had taken Robb and all he knew or all he could see was the man who'd done so. When the arrows came he knew he was done for and it came as almost a relief to him.

Even standing and facing the oncoming cavalry he felt the same. It wasn't bravery that kept his sword raised or had brought him back to his feet when his horse had been hit, it was hatred. Given the lack of true feelings he'd felt since his return, he welcomed it, embraced it, and if this was to be his last day, then so be it. It was not to be. His men came though he'd not wished them to and the battle was truly upon them and him now. Jon fought like ten men, fuelled by hatred he was unstoppable, and how many he killed he didn't know and only cared because it was not enough, it was nowhere even close to being enough.

None of these was the man he truly wished to kill and all were poor substitutes. Still, Longclaw swung and he ended each and everyone one of them. He moved all the while, forward, ever forward, and each step took him close to the Bastard of Bolton and when he reached him, then and only then would he rest. The gods laugh at mortal men who think they know better than they. They jape and take issue with any who dare to dream that they're the ones in control. He should know this better than any as they had been japing at his expense for many a year and he watched in horror as he and his men were surrounded and boxed in and as the end drew ever closer.

"Get up."

"Fight."

"Avenge me."

"Avenge me."

The voice was older than he remembered and were it not for the precariousness of his position, then he'd have closed his eyes for longer just to picture his face. Despite how close he'd gotten to him, he'd not truly seen Rickon there and then or not the Rickon that he was now, that he had been now. Instead, he saw the small boy he remembered, the young boy that had a life so full of possibility and had never grown to enjoy all that his life should have been. His brother had not known peace, even less so than he had and he'd been taken from the world far too soon. Why was he brought back if not to save his brother? If not now to avenge him? What was the point of any of it were he to fall here without at least seeing that done?.

He rose and the horns sounded and then he could breathe again. Looking to the hill he saw the Bastard of Bolton ride off and he was running after him before he knew it. Tormund and Wun Wun ran with him and soon they reached the gates, the giant breaking them down and the arrows flying both from the Bolton men and from those who'd joined him. He saw him there, the bastard laughing at him as he spoke some words he knew not, and then he heard it when Wun Wun fell to his knees. Seeing the last of the giants breathe no more had him remember why he was here, what he was to do and who he was to do it to.

"You suggested one-on-one combat, didn't you? I've reconsidered." Ramsay said as Jon glared at him "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

He moved quickly and picked up the shield, the arrow hitting it as he strode forward purposefully. Two more Ramsay got to fire at him before Jon was on him, the shield used as a club to take him to the ground, and then he was on him for true. His fists were like a blur as he punched the bastard's face repeatedly. For Wun Wun, For Robb, For what he did to Sansa and more than anything for the brother he'd just taken from him. Again and again, he punched him, each blow damaging his hands and yet not as much as they did the face of the man he beat. The pain he felt didn't come close to the one that he held in his heart, no matter how hard he struck Ramsay's face. He would have beaten him to death had he not felt him there, felt him being brought into the keep and then out of the corner of his eye he saw her red hair.

Which of them he stopped the beating for, he'd not truly be able to tell was anyone to ask him later. A part of him felt that he'd done it for Sansa, to allow her to gain her own measure of vengeance against the bastard who'd tormented her. Another part felt that he needed to be with his brother, to see him put at rest beside their father and so it was to the men carrying Rickon that he went and it was them that he followed into the crypts. How long he stayed there alone with his brother he knew not. The cold air of the crypts felt almost welcoming to him, as did the tears that fell from his eyes as he knelt by his brother's body.

"You deserved better, brother." he said as he knelt down closer and placed a kiss on Rickon's forehead.

The fires from the torches went out and he felt the breeze that seemed to come from the depths of the crypts and below Winterfell itself. Instinctively he moved his body over Rickon's as if to protect him from the cold and then he felt the tongue as it licked his face. The red eyes were looking at him sadly as his closest and truest companion shared in his grief. Jon felt his tears flow even more fully when Ghost did the same to Rickon and then when he looked at him again, the wolf seemed to stare deep into his very soul and Jon rose to his feet with a new resolve.

It took him some time to find her, the lady was nowhere to be seen and Jon found himself in Winterfell's Great Hall alone or so he thought until he felt her presence. Why he began to reminisce when it was not why he'd come here, he knew not. Only that he did and would have perhaps done so for longer had Ser Davos not entered the Great Hall and thrown a burned thing at Lady Melisandre. He listened in horror at the words that were spoken and knew he had no choice but to do what he must and yet, and yet, he could not.

"In time the lady will pay for her crimes, Ser Davos, for now, I have need of her aid."

"Jon…" Ser Davos said his face full of pain and his words barely heard and Jon felt for the man, truly he did.

"I give you my word, Ser Davos. In time she'll pay, will you accept that from me?" he asked and Ser Davos looked at the woman and then to him before nodding reluctantly. "I thank you for your faith, Ser, it's most welcomed."

He watched as Davos walked out from the Great Hall and he was relieved it was a walk and that he'd not stormed from it. Once he'd left, Jon then turned to Melisandre who looked at him curiously, her words making him take a step back.

"I will help your brother, but it's my god who'll bring him back, Jon Snow, not I." Melisandre said and he found he really didn't care which of them did so, as long as Rickon breathed once more.

Jon made sure that Sansa was well and then organized a meeting for later that day and had Wolkan send the ravens to the lords who'd not granted them aid, ravens that demanded they come and swear fealty. He then made his way to the room that had been Robb's once, a room far better than his own had been though he'd deny his brother nothing or wish him any less. Rickon lay in Robb's bed and looked to the world as if he was simply sleeping. Ghost lay asleep by the fire which burned brightly and Jon looked to Melisandre who bid him take a seat.

"Do you believe this will work, Jon Snow?" Melisandre asked curiously.

"This will work." he said emphatically, his eyes on his brother and not on the woman herself.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Rickon's forehead before whispering in his ear and then waited for the lady to begin her work.

?

Rickon.

It was dark, darker than the crypts had been when he and Bran had hidden there as boys. He had always been afraid of the dark and yet now he was not, Shaggydog was here, and with Shaggydog by his side, he was fearless. The wolf's bright yellow eyes sparkled in the darkness and he led him towards a light, Rickon keen to see where it led and then wishing he'd not once he got there.

" The Umbers are Leal, you'll be safe there." Bran said.

" I'll be alone there."

" Osha will be with you."

" I want to go with you, the pack needs to stick together, when the winds blow, the pack survives." he said not truly knowing all the words and only using the ones that he did.

" That's not how it goes." Bran said haughtily.

" It's close enough." he retorted.

" You can't come with me Rickon, your path is not mine own."

He'd hated him for that and maybe a part of him hated him still. The memories of what the Smalljon had done to Shaggydog forced Rickon to kneel so that he could hug his wolf tightly and feel his fur against his face and he closed his eyes as he did so. When he opened them again he was running, the arrows falling close to him and then he saw the horse as it raced his way. His brother, Ramsay had said it was his brother and yet the man he saw was his father or so he briefly thought. It was Jon, Jon had come and he felt himself run faster than he ever had before.

The pain was worse than he could have ever believed, the look on Jon's face was one of heartbreak and so Rickon tried to smile. He tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault and that he'd at least tried to come for him. No words came out but he hoped that he knew that he didn't blame him and that he was happy that he'd seen him once again, that he'd not died alone and forgotten. When he closed his eyes and felt the cold, he heard a voice he'd not heard in years.

" You were always so full of spirit, brother. Such a little terror you and Shaggydog were and even on the coldest nights on the Wall I could find a smile on my face as I remembered you all. You and Arya were cut from the same cloth, both so full of life and so keen to explore. She may have been Underfoot but you weren't too far from being so yourself." Jon said his voice sounded as if he was trying to be happy and yet it was very much not.

Rickon tried to answer, tried to speak to his brother, and found he could not, though he did welcome the sound of Jon's voice and the words he continued to speak. It had been so long since he'd heard anyone he'd named as his kin. So long that he was sure he'd never hear them again and so he listened as Jon spoke and he felt the cold begin to be replaced by a warmth he'd not felt since before his father had left Winterfell all those years ago.

" This is not how your life ends, Rickon. The gods aren't finished with you yet and your family misses you greatly. Come back to us brother, come back for I fear I cannot do what I must alone." Jon said softly.

The flames began to wash over him and yet he felt no fear and it wasn't until he saw the blue eyes and the wall of ice that he began to worry. It was with the images of what seemed to be dead men marching that he awoke from and his panic threatened to overwhelm him only for him to see his brother and to then feel his arms wrap tightly around him.

Winterfell 302 AC.

Jon.

He was alive, he'd come back, just as Jon himself had, and yet unlike Jon, Rickon would have someone to help him past the confusion. His brother looked at him, his eyes wide and a shocked look on his face as Jon moved to the table to grab him some water, and Melisandre stood by the edge of the bed with a look of pure joy on her face. Whether or not she'd doubted she could do this again only to manage it or she was feeling her god's favor in the fact that she had managed it, he knew and cared not. Whatever it was she was feeling would need to wait until later to be discovered, as for Jon it was his brother that he was more focussed on.

"Jon?" Rickon asked confusedly.

"Drink brother, drink and then we'll speak." he said as he held the mug in his hand and Rickon drank it down greedily.

There was some coughing and spluttering and Jon moved to grab something to wipe his brother's chest where the water had spilled. Before he managed to though, Rickon had seen the wound on his chest and Jon heard him cry out.

"It was real, I… I was dead. I shouldn't be here, how am I here,? Jon… Jon…" his brother's voice was pained and with a nod to Melisandre to leave them alone, Jon moved to sit on the bed.

"I'll tell you all of it, should you wish?" he said and Rickon nodded nervously.

It took far shorter than he expected, the words coming out much more easily than he'd dared to believe they would. He told his brother that he had in fact died and that he'd tried to save him only to fail before then telling him that he too had died and had been brought back from the darkness by Melisandre.

"I couldn't leave you, brother. I couldn't. It was not your time, you were not to be given up on. I don't care what Sansa said, we've lost enough in this godforsaken war. I was not ready to lose you too." he said as Rickon looked at him expressionlessly.

"Sansa?" his brother asked.

"Our sister is safe and well, brother." he said, though the well part wasn't exactly true.

"You said she gave up on me?" Rickon asked angrily.

"No… I… What I meant was she said that Ramsay would never let you live. That we had to understand that. You were more a threat than I or Sansa were to him. You're father's trueborn son, the Stark in Winterfell and so he'd not let you live." Jon said, defending Sansa though he knew not why he was doing so and he'd felt as angered by her words as Rickon now did.

"You didn't give up on me." Rickon said softly as he looked down at the wound on his chest "Thank you, brother." he said a moment later.

"I know it's hard, Rickon. It takes some getting used to being brought back from the darkness." he said not seeing the confused frown that appeared on Rickon's face "But I'm here for you. I know how it feels and I'm here for you, brother."

"I'm hungry." Rickon said, making him laugh as his brother's belly made a loud rumbling sound.

"Aye, a true hungry wolf you are." he japed getting a laugh in return "Do you wish to eat here?" he asked to a shake of Rickon's head.

He helped his brother to dress and then together they walked from the room. Rickon looked around to see they were or had been in Robb's old room and he seemed about to ask him why that was when Ghost appeared. Jon saw the warm smile appear on his brother's face when the white wolf licked his hand and then the sad look that came over him a moment later.

"He killed Shaggydog, The Smalljon he killed….is he here?" Rickon asked, snarling almost.

"He's dead brother and he died painfully." he said, having seen Tormund kill him.

"Good."

Walking through the keep he heard the hushed whispers and soon enough they reached the Great Hall where they became much louder. He looked to see Lyanna Mormont sitting with her men, the Lady of Bear Island looking at him and his brother with a shocked expression. She was not alone in that and as Jon looked around for Sansa he was annoyed to not see her anywhere. Though in her defense she had not known what he'd planned with Rickon.

"My brother is hungry." he said to one of the servants who hurried off to find him something to eat as Jon led him to the High Table.

When they sat down it was with all eyes in the Great Hall on them and Jon looked to see Yohn Royce enter and then stand still when he saw who he was sitting beside. He saw two men of the Vale run off to where he knew not and he called one of his guards to him so that he could send him to find Sansa and tell her what had happened. Seeing Ser Davos enter, he bid the man join them and was relieved when he did so. Staying his hand with Melisandre may have just been proved right, but he still feared the man may not forgive him for it.

"Melisandre?" Davos whispered as Rickon began to eat the food that had been placed in front of him.

"Aye, I know your feelings on her, Davos. But I meant what I say, you have my oath." he said and Davos nodded.

His brother ate hungrily and even ate another plateful when Jon moved his own over to him. The shake of his head and smile he gave him was enough to make Rickon not question eating his meal too much. Sansa when she arrived did not do so alone and Jon was surprised to see her so close to Lord Baelish. While the look the lord gave his brother was one he liked not and though his sister greeted Rickon warmly, it felt off somewhat.

"By the old gods." Sansa said as she and Rickon embraced "I had thought. How, how is this possible?"

"Jon did it." Rickon said firmly "He wouldn't give up on me." he said a moment later and Jon noticed how Sansa stiffened slightly before relaxing a moment later.

They ate as a family that night, just the three of them and he was surprised by just how tense it was. Sansa spoke of memories that he was not a part of and that Rickon couldn't recall and Jon knew part of that was because of what he'd gone through. Yet it was the little things that seemed different to him, the little comments that Sansa made about the difficulties of running a keep and ruling the North that just seemed odd to him. Was he not paying so much attention to the conversation then perhaps he'd not have picked up on it, but to him it seemed as if Sansa was telling Rickon that he wasn't ready to be the Lord of Winterfell.

Shaking his head of that thought, he steered the conversation to other topics. Telling Rickon that he'd be most happy to train him in the use of a sword and if he felt up to it then they would begin on the morrow. He spoke of what he knew of Bran and Arya, the little that he knew of either and again noticed something strange in how Sansa reacted or interjected certain comments into the conversation. Later when she brought up having men of the Vale guard him Jon put his foot down and rejected the idea out of hand.

"Men of the North, good men and true, them and Ghost will guard my brother's back or I'll do so myself. But no men of the Vale or men I don't know and trust completely will be even close." he said and Sansa rose her voice to tell him he was being stupid.

"The Knights of the Vale rode for us, Jon, we can trust them." Sansa said as if she was speaking to an errant child.

"I trust only the men that Jon wishes to guard me. None others." Rickon said and with that it was decided, the Lord of Winterfell had spoken.

"I'll pick them myself, brother. They are men I'd trust with mine own life and there are few of those I'd name as such." he said and Rickon smiled at him before nodding his head.

He had the Lord's Chambers cleared out and readied for Rickon and as they walked to it with Ghost and the guards he'd picked by his side, he could see how nervous his brother truly was. Jon waited until they were inside the room and until they were alone before he spoke and then he asked his brother what his worries were.

"You can speak to me about anything, brother. If it's in my power to help you then you only need to ask or tell me what to do." he said as sympathetically as he could.

"I don't know if I'm ready to be Lord, Jon." Rickon said worriedly.

"Forget what Sansa said, you are, you will be." he said and Rickon looked at him doubtfully "I'll be by your side, brother." he said and was stunned when Rickon embraced him, Jon not remembering if he'd ever done so before even when he was but a boy.

"Will you stay with me, just for tonight." Rickon asked and sounded very much like the boy he had once been.

"Of course, and Ghost will be by your side and in your bed, should you wish it of him." he said to an eager nod.

While Rickon readied for bed, Jon moved two chairs together for his own and took Longclaw out, and placed it against the wall. The sword fascinated his brother and he knew that he wished to wield it. Though he had no training with such a blade and so for now he just wished to learn how to do so first. He'd teach him all he knew and make him as strong as he could. Watching as he lay down in his bed, Jon swore that no one would ever come close to harming his brother again, even were it to cost him his own life to see it so.

"Goodnight Jon." Rickon said as he rolled over to his side and Ghost lay beside him in the bed before he snuggled up close to him.

"Goodnight brother." he said softly.

Winterfell 302 AC.

A few weeks later.

Rickon.

He should have been dead and, thanks to his brother and the priestess, had been given a second chance at life, but everything felt different to him. Truly, Rickon didn't really know how to feel. To him, Winterfell didn't feel welcoming. He didn't remember much about his childhood but memories of Theon's betrayal and what he'd experienced at Ramsay's hand. Not to mention that since the Umbers had sold him out it had made what was supposed to be his safe haven a place he hated with a passion. He had lost Shaggydog and Osha, lost his good memories of that place, and part of him thought he'd have lost himself too if it weren't for Jon.

His brother was the only good that had come from his nightmarish ordeal. Like their father, or what Rickon remembered of him, Jon was fiercely protective and true to his word. Since he came back from the dead, Ghost and Jon were a permanent fixture around him. Rickon could be sure to find one or the other, if not both, wherever he went. Being around them made him feel safe, to a certain extent. Wielding a sword made him feel safer.

Jon had waited a few days before fulfilling his promise of teaching him how to fight. Osha had tried to teach him before when they were traveling together. He'd learned the basics of wielding a knife and using it to skin a rabbit or defend himself, but he was still young and had relied a lot on her and Shaggydog to protect him. They had let their guard down, thinking themselves safe at Last Hearth, and it had cost them their lives.

Rickon swore that he would never make the same mistakes again and he welcomed Jon's desire to make him ready for what was to come. Sansa had argued at first that he should take some rest. She didn't want him to risk himself after she'd almost lost him, but Rickon paid her no mind. Jon had told him that she went through a lot with Ramsay, that she escaped Winterfell and joined him at the Wall. That her time being Ramsay's wife had changed her a lot, but he couldn't shake the resentment he felt when his brother had told him that she'd given up on him.

" We have so many enemies, Rickon. There are a lot of them out there and we're a few Starks left. We have to stick together, trust one another, for when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives." Jon said as he placed his hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

" I trust you, Jon. And I'll try to trust her," was Rickon's only answer to this.

" That's all I ask." Jon said, ruffling his hair and bidding him to sleep.

Rickon would not lie to his brother, not when he had been the one to save him from the darkness, but he was wary of Sansa and tried to spend as little time with her as he could. He could see how hard she tried to create a bond between them, to remind him of their family and how she would take care of him as their mother would have. Yet he did not remember her and she felt like a stranger to him. None of what his sister said to him he felt was sincere from the moment she held him in her arms when she first saw that he was alive. There was something in her attitude that seemed off to him, and the company she kept didn't please him either. Even now he could feel the man stare as he moved to parry Jon's blow.

"Keep your shield up, brother, or I'll ring your head like a bell!" Jon said, making him nod and correct his stance. "You cannot be distracted in a battle. Whatever is on your mind, forget it and focus on the threat nearest you."

Rickon tried his best but his heart wasn't in it. There were too many eyes on him, too many people around and he didn't feel comfortable with the Lords and Ladies watching his every move.

"That's enough for today. Sansa is glaring at us so we better stop and go get ready before she goes on her usual rant." Jon said and he chuckled remembering the one she gave them the day before.

"Who is arriving today?"

"Lord Manderly. He's the last one and when you'll see him you'll understand why." Jon japed. "Don't tell Sansa I said that."

"Afraid of another scolding, brother?" he smirked as he saw Jon's frown.

"Aye, as should you be."

They laughed together and Rickon felt that he needed that moment with Jon. He didn't feel like a monster in his brother's eyes, contrary to the other Lords in the North who had seen or heard of his death. They were scared of him and while sometimes he enjoyed the tranquility it gave him since they didn't approach him, he found it more unnerving for most of it.

Only Lyanna Mormont had dared come to him, catching him off guard after one of his spars with Jon.

" Show me." she'd ordered him brusquely.

" What?"

" You were dead. And now you're not."

" Right…"

" So show me."

" What do you want me to show you? I mean… My Lady."

" Oh, please. Drop the Lady stuff with me. I want you to show me your wound."

" Won't it scare you?"

" I have seen Giants. I won't be easily distressed."

" Well then…"

He had opened his shirt and had shown her the wound, spinning when she ordered him to and watching her expression with wariness. It was still healing on the surface so he'd winced when she poked it and smiled when she frowned, her attitude strongly reminding him of Osha.

" How is it?" she'd suddenly asked, making him frown in turn.

" How is what?"

" To die. How is it?"

" Cold," he'd answered truthfully. "I don't remember much, but I was cold and then I was not and I woke up."

" I hope Mother is not cold. I hope Dacey isn't either. She might have been a pain, but she doesn't deserve to be cold. None of them deserves it." Lyanna said sadly.

" I'm sorry about your mother," he'd said, not looking at her. "I hope she's not cold either."

" Do you think she could do it again? The Red Witch?" she'd asked, surprising him.

" I… I don't know. Jon said it was her God who did it for me.."

" I heard rumors. The wildlings said she did it for him too. Would she do it with Mother? I don't know where her body is, or Dacey, but if we can find her, do you think…"

" I'm sorry, I don't know." his answer was truthful and yet he wished he could offer her more than that.

Lyanna had left him alone after that. He would not give her hope as he didn't understand why he was still alive. Jon had said to him that it wasn't his time and the priestess' God knew that he still had a lot to do, but in reality, Rickon found it unfair.

Why him and not Robb? His mother? Their Father? Arya? Why was he more important than them in some God's eyes? He couldn't wrap up his head around the matter and it haunted him some nights.

He was glad that Jon was there with him throughout this. His older brother had been incredibly helpful during the worst and most confusing times. He had told him part of his story, how he'd been betrayed too by men he trusted when all he wanted was to prepare for the war to come, and how unworthy he felt about being resurrected.

" I thought I didn't deserve a second chance. That I had failed first and that I had no strength to go on knowing of my failures. Ser Davos kept me on my feet and told me to go on and fight my way through my failures."

" And you did?"

" I was tired. I had no fight left in my body. Until I saw Sansa and I heard you were alive. You, Rickon, are the reason why I am here today. Of this I am certain. I have to protect my family and prepare the North for the coming of the Army of the Dead. That is why I am still here." Jon said his determination fuelling his own somewhat.

" But I am not a warrior like you, Jon. I can't fight as you do. So why am I not dead?"

" We do not know your purpose yet, brother. Mayhaps you will be the greatest Lord of Winterfell that was ever named as such. Mayhaps you'll be the one to lead us to victory against the dead with all your training. You're getting pretty good, you know?"

" I'm not that good," Rickon retorted, making them laugh together.

" Mayhaps the Gods have something else waiting for you. Whatever it is, we'll find it together."

" You promise?"

" Aye. I promise, little brother. For as long as I am here, I will help you find yourself."

" What if you die before? What if I can't bring you back?" he asked worriedly.

" Then you'll live and find your answer alone. But now that I found you, I am not willing to leave you without a fight. You know that, right?" Jon said and Rickon nodded, giving him a small smile. If there was something he trusted Jon with, it was his determination not to leave him behind.

They were sitting in the Great Hall for dinner and Sansa was watching him with something akin to displeasure and he smiled sheepishly at her. He shouldn't have made the comment about Lord Manderly's size out loud, but Jon's jape was still fresh in his mind when they welcomed the Lord of White Harbour in the courtyard and his nerves got the best of him. Thankfully the man hadn't taken offense, or at least not publicly. Rickon was sure he would be scolded for that later, but he found out he didn't care at that moment. His focus was on a young boy. A boy he'd known from quite some time and whose black eye showed just how much Rickon loathed him.

Ned Umber had arrived the day before, along with Alys Karstark and a small retinue. He'd been summoned for the Council of the North and Rickon had promised Jon not to make any scandal as he was now the Lord of Winterfell. Seeing him standing in front of him, Rickon couldn't help himself and had decked his former playmate as soon as he saw his sullen face. Sansa had been horrified by his attitude and Jon a little more understanding, while Ned had carefully avoided him ever since.

"There are other ways to solve a dispute than with your fists, Rickon." Sansa scolded.

"This is not a dispute. His father sold me to the Boltons and he helped them catch me! He was supposed to be my friend!" he retorted angrily.

"And you will get your revenge. We will all get our revenge for what they did to our family. You just have to wait for the right time to punish them accordingly."

"How so?"

"As the Lord of Winterfell, you'll have the power to hurt them. You'll be able to weaken them by increasing their taxes or taking part or all of their lands to give to those who've been loyal to us."

"And that will hurt them how?" Rickon asked, failing to understand the logic.

"A Lord's influence is measured by how much land he owns, how many men he can call to defend himself, and how much coin that he makes… By reducing their influence, you prevent them from rebelling against you and also hurt their pride."

"Jon said that a good Lord should not punish people for others' mistakes."

"That's because Jon has never been one in the first place," Sansa scoffed. "His heart is too soft and he's too trusting. We need to reduce the influence of our enemies by striking them wherever it would hurt, and we need to reward our allies to strengthen our bonds." She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. "When the Council will be over with and you'll be recognized as the Lord of Winterfell, we will then have everything in our hands to make the Umbers pay for choosing the wrong side of the war."

That was not what Rickon wanted to hear. He wanted to get revenge, assuredly, but there was something in the way Sansa said it that made him think twice about it. Whether it was the comment about Jon that rubbed him the wrong way or her inclusion in what he as Lord should decide by himself, he didn't know, but it left him more annoyed than at the beginning of the discussion. So he did what he'd always done since he came back from the dead and he went to Jon to ask him what to do.

"I understand the need for vengeance, Brother. My last act as Lord Commander before I left the Watch was to hang those who had murdered me."

"So you think we should make them pay, too?"

"The men who betrayed you are dead, Rickon. As are those who took part in the fall of our family. Joffrey, Roose Bolton, Ramsay, the Freys, the Umbers, The Karstarks…" Jon said, looking at him intently.

"Not all of the Umbers and the Karstarks." Rickon pointed out.

"Fair enough, but they were children."

"And Ned betrayed me. And Sansa thinks we should punish him and Alys for what happened."

"Sansa told you that?" Jon asked surprised.

"Aye. Said we should take their land and give them to our allies when I'll be Lord of Winterfell."

"That will only make them hate us more, and I think Sansa is ill-suited to talk about punishing the guilty." Jon snorted.

"What do you mean?"

"Did she tell you about Theon?" Jon asked and Rickon frowned confusedly. "Judging by your face I guess she did not. Theon was a prisoner of Ramsay Bolton too. He suffered greatly under him, according to Sansa."

"Did the fucker get killed? I don't like Ramsay but ! would at least praise him if he did."

"There's more to the story than Theon betraying you, Rickon."

"He abandoned us! He was family and he betrayed us! He killed Ser Rodrik. He killed the miller's sons and he killed Maester Luwin!" Rickon yelled and Jon startled, unaware of most of Theon's crimes.

"I do not hold him in my heart, trust me. Yet, he was the one to save Sansa from her fate with Ramsay." Jon said to Rickon's surprise. "He smuggled her out of the keep and protected her until Brienne arrived to lead Sansa to me at the Wall."

"So he saved Sansa?"

"And now she feels that she owes him a lot. She even made me swear not to punish him if we ever see each other."

"And what did you say?"

"I promised not to hurt him… much. I cannot forget what he did to you, to Robb, yet, she is right that he has redeemed himself somewhat in saving her. If she can ask for mercy for someone like Theon… Then Alys Karstark who committed no crime should not be held responsible for those who took the decision to fight against us. She's innocent in all of this." Jon said and again Rickon noticed that after he spoke certain points his brother always looked at him intently as if he was imparting a lesson that he wished him to take to heart.

"But Ned…"

"He was a child following his family's orders. Do you happen to remember something someone from our family ordered you to do that went against what you felt was right, but then you did it anyway?"

"You can't come with me Rickon, your path is not mine own." Bran's face came instantly to Rickon's mind and he clenched his fists.

"That's what I thought. Talk to him, Brother. See if he regrets his actions and then if you want to deck him once more, if you do then I'll hold Sansa while you beat him bloody." Jon said and Rickon had to laugh at that. " If you feel like punishing him as she suggested, I will not hold it against you. But give him a chance, as the Lord of Winterfell, to defend his cause."

He listened to Jon, once again, and it did give him the occasion to strike Ned one more time and to understand what his older brother was saying.

Ned and Alys excused themselves at the start of the Council. The Great Hall was crowded between the Lords of the North, the Knights of the Vale, and members of the Free Folk who joined Jon and Sansa for the retaking of Winterfell, and Rickon could feel the tension in the room and see the unfriendly glares each party sent at the others. In the back of the Hall, far away from prying eyes, Rickon spotted the unsettling gaze of the man who had become Sansa's shadow.

"You can't expect Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders." One of Sansa's followers, Rickon couldn't remember his name, said haughtily.

"We didn't invade. We were invited." Tormund, Jon's friend and a very amusing man, said, raising his mug to their direction and to Rickon who did the same.

"Not by me." the Valeman responded.

"The Free Folk, the Northerners, and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father used to say we find our true friends on the battlefield." Jon said.

"Tormund and the Free Folk are welcomed to stay here by me and my family. They have fought for the Starks and one of them has raised me as her own. Insult one of them and you're insulting me through them," Rickon stated firmly, only to be reprimanded slightly by his sister's frowning face.

"The Boltons are defeated. The war is over. Winter has come. If the Maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms." Lord Cerwyn said.

"The war is not over. And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won't wait out the storm. He brings the storm." Jon said sternly, leaving no doubt that he was serious, while Sansa didn't manage to hide her discomfort at these words with her look to Rickon.

So, she didn't believe Jon about the Army of the dead. And judging by the scoffs and smirks of the one from the Vale, neither did they.

In all the commotion caused by his brother's words, Rickon failed to see Lyanna Mormont move to the center of the hall.

"Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call. You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still, you refused the call." Her cutting words put all the whining lords in their places and Rickon quite enjoyed her passion, at least until the end of her tirade. "But House Mormont remembers. The North remembers. We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark."

"No!" He shouted, springing from his chair as dread filled his heart when her steely gaze fell on him. He felt he wasn't fit to be a Lord, he wasn't ready for it. To be a king was worse than being a Lord…

"I don't care if you are my age or if you think you're too young. I know you will do your duty well because you are just like your brother." she said before turning back to face the Lords. "We've seen Rickon Stark come back from the dead and Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king, from this day until his last day."

"Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly." Manderly said sadly. "My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn't think we'd find another king in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your family's cause, because I didn't want more Manderlys dying for nothing. But I was wrong."

The fat Lord then turned to the crowd and the next words he said sealed Rickon's fate for better or for worse.

"Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. He is the White wolf and he gave us hope by saving his brother, the Undying Wolf. The King in the North!"

"I did not fight beside your brother on the field and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness." Lord Glover said rising when Lord Manderly was done.

"There's… There's nothing to forgive, my lord." Rickon mumbled, still in shock, while Jon gave him an encouraging smile.

"There will be more fights to come. House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years. And I will stand with Jon Snow and behind Rickon Stark… the King in the North!"

Rickon stood there, completely numb, while chants began to rise about his new status.

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

Each one of them felt like a dagger plunged into his heart. He looked to see his sister smiling brightly at him, her face lit with joy for the first time since they've been back together. She was truly happy they'd named him King, but her eyes kept darting to her shadow and it unnerved Rickon to see it.

"The King in the North!" he heard Jon say in turn and were it not for the look of pride in his brother's eyes, then he would have named him a traitor.

"I… I cannot be your King…"

"Of course you can! You heard them. You are Robb Stark's heir and he was King in the North," Sansa intervened before smiling at the Lords. "We thank you, my Lords, for your continued support of House Stark and for your renewal of faith. Jon and I will also support the King you've named and guide him in his duty to the North, and to become the King we all need."

Jon nodded and then he knelt down in front of Rickon, to the young boy's horror.

"I swear to serve House Stark and my brother King Rickon, I pledge my loyalty to him from this day until my last days. Now and Always. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Rickon knew at that moment that he had no choice in the matter, as being a Lord, the life of a King was put on his shoulders and the burden of replacing Robb in their minds would be heavy.

His horror morphed into annoyance as his older brother winked at him before standing up.

"Your purpose," Jon mouthed to him, before joining the chants and smiling proudly.

He wanted to curse them all for making him their King, but the words full of hatred died as the chant grew louder. Minutes ago, they were all fighting each other, throwing snide comments at their faces, and now, now Free Folk, men and women of the North and the Vale, all of them were united and raising their mugs.

United thanks to him being King.

Maybe Jon was right. Maybe his purpose was to bridge the gap between the world he came from and the one he grew in. Osha always said that the Free folk would not kneel, and now he was certain he would not to anyone else.

His eyes fell on the man in the shadows, the one called Littlefinger, and his undecipherable expression hidden behind a forced smile sent chills through his body. His eyes reminded him of someone, of something not good, but Rickon couldn't figure out who nor what it was. Every part of him reacted to the threat he posed. He quickly put his hand down to feel his companion's fur. And get some reassurance. Shaggydog wasn't with him anymore but Ghost was, and the Direwolf's raised hackles in the man's direction was another sign that his instincts were true and that Petyr Baelish wasn't to be trusted.

Winterfell 302 AC.

Sansa.

He was dead, finally, she could rest at night knowing that Ramsay was dead and could never reach her again. It made her walk to her room, one that she actually enjoyed and she was glad to not encounter anyone along the way. She'd no wish to speak to Littlefinger or even to Jon, instead she wanted to spend a night in her room and to sleep a dreamless sleep. Something that she thanked the Seven for when she awoke early the next morning.

For the first time in moons, she'd not woken in the night crying out and fearful and she was finally ready to face the day without the worry that he'd find her and take her back to do more vile things to her. When the two girls arrived to help her dress, she greeted them with a far warmer smile than she knew she still had within her. Walking with Brienne to the Great Hall she was prepared for all the day brought to her and she greeted Lord Royce warmly and nodded to Lady Lyanna and to some of the other men of the North who'd fought for them in the Battle of the Bastards.

There was no sign of Jon which brought a frown to her face or of Ser Davos either, though Tormund sat with some of the Free Folk and she knew that their presence was something they would need to discuss. Where Littlefinger came from she knew not, she'd not seen him in the Great Hall when she entered and she wondered if he had been waiting for her to do so before he made his own way there. Something she was more sure of when he moved right to her and so after greeting him more warmly than she truly wished to, she bid him join her as they broke their fast.

"You look well-rested, Lady Sansa." he said, as uncaring as ever.

"I feel so, Lord Baelish." she replied as the plates were laid out in front of them, Sansa actually having an appetite for once.

"Perhaps because of the lately departed Lord Bolton. "Littlefinger said in that annoying way of his, his ego never allowing him to miss a chance to let her know that he knew things.

"I must say that helps." she said with a smirk as she ate the eggs and began cutting up the sausage.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Littlefinger's little grimace when she attacked the sausage with gusto, her knife making short work of it and she needed not to know what he envisioned. It didn't put her off taking a bite from it and soon enough she'd finished it all. All the while Littlefinger had spoken constantly as he talked about what was to come and how the Knights of the Vale and he himself were fully behind the Lady of Winterfell. Despite how much he irked her, his words did hit home and she did welcome some of them. The thoughts of finally being in a position where she was in charge of her own future were ones that she needed as much as the air she breathed.

"Your half-brother may be a problem, Lady Sansa. Jon Snow has won favor with the men of the North and his savages answer to him and him alone." Littlefinger said as Sansa finished her meal, the coolness of the milk she drank felt good on her throat as she pondered how to answer him.

"Jon is loyal, Lord Baelish. To me and to our house and he's a good man to have on my side." she said and Littlefinger nodded, though she doubted he agreed, or perhaps he feared Jon somewhat for reasons other than controlling the North through her.

She had no doubt that if he did then Jon may be in danger from him, yet she held no fears for Jon in that regard. He'd beaten far more than Littlefinger to be here and besides, once she was named as Lady of Winterfell, she'd then have the power to protect him too. Changing the subject she told Littlefinger that she needed to take stock of the supplies and of how the keep was situated and after agreeing to speak to him more later, she then made her way from the Great Hall and was surprised to find herself heading to the Godswood of all places.

How long she spent there she knew not, only that it wasn't her own choice that had her running back towards the keep. The summons from Jon, while annoying her greatly, seemed too important for her to not answer. Then when she'd asked for more of the reasons for why Jon had sent the servant to fetch her, it had led to her running across the courtyard and into the keep itself. Sansa only slowed down once she reached the Great Hall and then found herself quickly joined by Littlefinger. Who no doubt had heard the news too. So it was in a far more ladylike fashion and not alone that she entered the Great hall and first saw her brother and the breath she took was perhaps the deepest one she'd ever taken.

"By the old gods." Sansa said as she and Rickon embraced "I had thought. How, how is this possible?"

"Jon did it." Rickon said firmly "He wouldn't give up on me." he said a moment later and despite her initial joy at seeing him and holding him in her arms, she stiffened slightly.

Later that night she went to her bed troubled once more. Rickon's return caused many problems, not least of which was that it would be a Lord and not a Lady that Winterfell would answer to. While Littlefinger had not spoken to her about it, he soon would and she worried what ideas he may come up with. She needed to control the situation, to show that Rickon was lord in name only. Something she was already having difficulty with as he seemed to defer more to Jon than he did to her. Understandable though that was it put them more in danger and she was sure that was the reason she worried so, the danger they faced. It was that, wasn't it?.

A few weeks later.

She wasn't sure which of them frustrated or annoyed her more. Rickon or Jon. Both of them were far too close to each other and Rickon seemed to almost worship the ground that Jon walked upon. Sansa was sure that he was the reason that Rickon kept countermanding her orders or ignoring her suggestions as well. True he'd listened to some, but mainly he came up with alternatives and it annoyed her greatly.

More and more she was turning to Littlefinger and each time she did so, her worries would grow. The line between getting his help and owing him for that help grew every day and she feared too what he would do if she couldn't come through on her end. A part of her though, a growing part of her was becoming angry with both Jon and Rickon. Just like her father and Robb, they were making foolish choices and she feared that they would lead to the doom of the North. That Jon in particular wouldn't accept her words on such things, angered her somewhat.

The biggest issue she had other than the stubbornness of men was that unlike Jon she couldn't spar with Rickon or teach him the things he wished to know. She tried to teach him the etiquette and politics of the North while Jon taught him more practical things and she despaired at each mistake both of them made. They'd almost cost them Lord Manderly's support, Rickon had actually struck Ned Umber rather than simply deal with him in the right way, and yet she knew it would be to her brother that the Lords of the North would declare their fealty and not to her. As she made her way to the Godswood she was surprised to find neither Rickon nor Jon there and yet her solitude was not to last for long.

"Lady Sansa." Littlefinger said, her name on his lips as unwelcome as ever.

"Lord Baelish." she said more curtly than he intended.

"I've spent some time amongst the Lords of the North, Sansa. It seems it's to be your brother they name as their liege."

"As is Rickon's right."

"Is it?" he asked curiously forcing her to turn and look at him "There are those who don't believe so and think him an abomination. Was he to be named as such…"

"He's my brother." she said determinedly.

"Who should not breathe and yet does. The Lords in the South when they hear such tales will not look kindly on the North or upon your house." Littlefinger said moving closer to her, Sansa trying not to move away when he took her hand in his own.

"What care we for the Lords in the South who have brought us naught but pain and suffering." she said angrily.

"Trade, Sansa. The North relies on food from the South, were they to stop trading because the Septons and Septa's named your brother as what he is…." she really couldn't argue with him and as always he had led her where he wished her to go.

That night as the Lords met she found herself thinking not on the fact that they'd come to swear to her house but on the worry that they were swearing to the wrong member of it. She listened in horror as Rickon stood up for the wildings after Jon had done the same. The latter expected while the former had not been and as Lord of Winterfell, it was Rickon's words on the subject that carried all the weight.

She sighed when Jon brought up the Army of the Dead and then she sat stunned when Lyanna Mormont stood up and spoke words she'd not have believed were she not there to hear them spoken. Words that led to more and more Lords coming round to the idea and the image of a crown appearing in her mind, one worn not by the brother they wished to give it to, but by her as they named her queen. When Rickon actually tried to reject it, she interjected quickly, her words she hoped would hit home but perhaps it was Jon kneeling in front of him that did so more truly.

A King, a King in the North. Crown for House Stark. Her eyes caught Littlefinger's and she saw the small smirk on his face and the little nod he gave her, her own smile she tried to believe was for her brother, she tried to.

Winterfell 302 AC.

Jon.

His brother was confused and a reluctant king and had even told him that he should wear the crown, Jon telling him the last thing he wished for was a damn crown. Rickon had appointed him as Regent much to Sansa's annoyance though their sister was annoyed at them both a lot lately. Never more so than when it was his words that Rickon had listened to in regards to Ned Umber and Alys Karstark. Jon could still remember the nervous look on both their faces when they were called forward.

He'd wished to intervene directly, especially after Sansa had spoken, but he'd decided not to, not then and not there. His brother was his king and it was his choice to make and Rickon had made the right one. He had both of them renew their oaths to House Stark and had used his words about not punishing the children for the sins of their fathers. Jon was so proud of him and so in the ensuing argument with Sansa later, he'd told him so and stood by his side so firmly that Sansa had stormed from the room.

The next week had been hectic, there was so much to do and when Rickon had suggested seeking Wyman Manderly's counsel and whether or not that was a good idea, Jon had told him that he felt it was. The Lord of White Harbor knew the most about trade out of any of the Lords of the North and bringing him on board was a good thing, as was bringing Lyanna Mormont too. The Lady of Bear Island was wise beyond her years and not afraid to call out foolishness when she saw it. That it limited Sansa's influence irked their sister more than it did either of them. She'd been the one to suggest the need for them to be brought close and had then decided that Rickon was wrong for doing so.

Other than their work readying Winterfell it was to the Wall that they looked and when Jon suggested they send the Free Folk, his brother had agreed immediately. It was as he was getting ready to say his goodbyes to Tormund that the raven arrived. Jon had spent the early morning sparring with his brother and only stopped when it came near the time for Tormund to leave. His brother was coming on well but still relied too much on anger and strength and so he'd spent most of their lesson showing him that while useful, poise and skill would trump them most of the time. Rickon had left to go change and Jon had gone and sought Tormund out, only for the raven's arrival to bring him to his brother's solar instead.

"Dragonglass, if it's truly there we need this brother." he said as he and Sansa stood in what had once been their father's solar and was now their King's.

"How are we to get it from Dragonstone, Jon." Sansa said, raising her hands to signal the difficulties of such.

"Ser Davos. He served Stannis Baratheon there. If it's there he could find it and there is no Lord or Lady there to stand in his way. The crown cares not for a rocky island, not when there are other battles to fight." he said and Rickon looked to him and nodded.

"Very well, send men there if you must." Sansa said, rising to her feet and Rickon at least had the good grace not to laugh until she had gone.

"Gods, she can be annoying." Jon said and his brother burst out laughing, Jon sure the sound carried to even where Sansa now walked. "That's not very kingly, your grace." he said as Rickon snorted and sneezed when he laughed so hard.

"Fuck off, Jon." his brother said when he'd calmed.

"How shall I fuck off, your grace? Should it be quickly, perhaps I should fuck off on one leg, would that be to his grace's liking?" he said as he began to hop towards the door, Rickon crying tears now as the laughing fit began again.

It had become a little thing he did, knowing that the weight of the crown he wore bore down on his brother as did the truth of what he'd gone through and come back from. So Jon had tried to lighten the mood when he could, usually at Sansa's expense. It wasn't mean-spirited and it was just that their sister's words and actions were just so easy to make light of. She meant well but she cared too much for propriety and what the Lords of the Vale of those of the South may think is right. Even when both he and Rickon had tried time and time again to remind her this was the North. He had stopped hopping when the knock came to the door, the guard opening it to let Lady Melisandre in once Rickon had given him leave to.

"Your grace, Lord Snow." Melisandre said and Rickon smiled at the lady much to her delight.

"Lady Melisandre, what can we do for you?" Rickon asked and Jon looked at her curiously.

"I would ask you both to look to the flames with me. I believe there is something there that R'hllor wishes to see, however, I will need some…" the knock on the door interrupted her, and was it anyone but Davos then Jon would have sent them away, but given the man's strained relationship with Lady Melisandre and his wait for the justice that he'd been promised, he instead bid the man join them.

"You would need what, my lady?" Jon asked as Davos glared at the woman in red.

"King's Blood, Lord Snow. Just a drop." she added when she saw his glare.

"Your god wills this of us?" Rickon asked and Melisandre nodded while Davos moved to take a step forward and only Jon's shaking of his head stopped him.

"You can take mine own." he said, stepping forward, having not been best pleased to find that Rickon had allowed her to take his already once before.

"Jon.." Rickon began but Jon shook his head and his brother nodded.

"Very Well, Lord Snow." Melisandre said knowing full well that it was all she would get him to agree to.

The leech drank greedily and surprisingly he felt little as it did so. Once it was full enough it was removed and as Davos stood in the corner, he, Rickon, and Melisandre moved to the fire that burned in the hearth, and the leech was soon thrown to the flames. There was an almost explosion of fire, the flames forcing them to move back, and had Jon not been so quick to move to his brother and so was not paying attention to anything else, then he'd not have missed it. He'd been covered in them for a moment and yet had not burned, yet it was the size of them that had seemed to shock both his brother and Lady Melisandre. The flames were much bigger than the ones they'd both seen when using Rickon's blood.

He was about to speak angrily to the red priestess when he saw the visions in the fire. The island, the beach, caves full of black stone, and some writing and drawings on the wall. Then he saw other things that couldn't be true, or at least he'd not believed them when he'd heard of them at the Wall. Dragons flying in the air and a green one looking his way with almost a pleading in its bronze eyes. There were bags filled with black rock and ships sailing North and he saw himself walking on the beach, in the caves, and looking at the drawings on the wall. As well as standing on cliffs as a green dragon landed next to him and he moved closer to it.

"Jon, did you see?" Rickon asked both excitedly and worriedly.

"I… Where was that?" he asked though he knew where it was before Melisandre answered him.

"Dragonstone. It seems you and I have a journey to make, Lord Snow. I'll go and prepare."

"NO." Rickon said loudly "My brother is not going anywhere. Jon… Jon you promised." Rickon said worriedly.

With a nod to Davos and a promise to speak to him later, Jon moved to Rickon once Melisandre and Davos had left the room, his brother shuddering against him as he took him in his arms.

"I'll not go if you don't wish me to, brother." he said and felt Rickon relax some.

Later that day he asked Tormund not to travel with the rest of the Free Folk to the Wall and told him that he had something he needed him to do in Winterfell. He made his way to Davos and swore to him once again that the justice he'd promised him would be his to take when the time was right. That the fight they were to face took all other concerns from their minds, for now at least. When he asked him to stay and to be Rickon's right hand, he'd been refused at first.

"I need him to be with people I trust, Davos. You, Tormund, The Free Folk. I find I don't even truly trust men of the North as I've seen both Sansa and Lord Baelish speak to more than one.." he said and Davos looked at him curiously.

"You think your sister would harm him?" he asked and Jon shook his head.

"I'd not think that way. I fear for those she's close to Davos. I asked her leave to kill Lord Baelish and she denied me, yet it was how she did so that caused me concern. I know you can't go around just killing lords, but cunts, cunts deserve to die and that man is a cunt if I've ever seen one." he said and Davos chuckled.

"Aye, that he is. Stannis had no time for the man, none at all and while he was not the man I believed him to be, he was right more oft than not about when a man was to be trusted." Davos said.

"You'll stand by his side?" he asked.

"Aye, Jon, I'll see him right."

"I mean it Davos, I'll see you get the justice you deserve. I swear it on my honor and I'd do so before the Heart Tree should you ask it of me."

"I'd not do so for I've no need, Jon. Your word is good enough for me."

"I thank you, for that and for Rickon." he said as he walked away.

After dinner that night, he and Sansa were asked to join Rickon in his chambers and his brother ordered him to go to Dragonstone and to bring back the Dragonglass. Jon saw Sansa's little smirk and liked it not, but he accepted Rickon's words, and then the argument began.

"No Jon, I'll not have savages guard my brother." Sansa shouted.

"He's my brother too and I'll see him protected. Tormund, Ghost, and men of the Free Folk." he said determinedly.

"I'll see men of the North or men of the Vale assigned. He's our king, Jon, not just our brother and he needs to be surrounded by men fit to guard a king." Sansa said as if she was chiding a child and not speaking to a man older than she.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Rickon said loudly.

"You can't Rickon, you can't do so just because Jon wills it so." Sansa said

"It's not simply that. I wish men I know are trustworthy and Jon trusts these men." Rickon said and Sansa sighed in exasperation.

"You can't have savages guarding you Rickon, you're the King." Sansa said annoyedly..

"Who was guarded best of all by a savage, Sansa. Osha her name was and were it not for her then I'd have never made it this far." Rickon said, saying the woman's name fondly.

"It's not proper, Rickon." Sansa said, looking from Rickon to him and then back to Rickon.

"Fuck proper, I'd rather fucking live." Rickon said and Jon smirked which only set Sansa off even more.

From there it descended into an argument about a Small Council, how Rickon needed one, and Jon was surprised when Rickon allowed her to name the names that she did. His own words on how this was the North and not the South and they shouldn't be seeking to match what had not worked there, here, were met with a rolling of his sister's eyes as were the names she suggested with both his own and with Rickon's. Lord Glover was a craven and a man he'd not trust to do anything that didn't benefit himself. Lord Royce may be a good man and true, yet he was not of the North and as for Littlefinger, no matter what Sansa said about his skills as a former Master of Coin, the day that man stood too close to his brother would be the day he lost his life.

As with all their recent arguments it ended with Sansa storming from the room and naming them as fools, something which at least brought a smile to his and Rickon's faces.

"I think we owe her a lemon cake." he said to a chuckle and not a full laugh from his brother.

"Aye, we do. I love her, Jon, truly I do, but I find I know her not." Rickon said and he nodded, it had been something he'd had trouble coming to terms with too, just how much she had changed and he put it down to him thinking her a little girl still, and not anything more than that.

"She at times raises good points and her counsel is much needed." he said and Rickon nodded.

"But not always accepted, just as your own is not." Rickon said and Jon smirked a little more, his brother was growing into his role, good he'd need to.

"You ordered me for her benefit?" he asked curiously.

"And the Lords of the North. Lady Lyanna bid me do so." Rickon said and Jon chuckled.

"She did, did she?" he said as Rickon rolled his eyes.

"How long?" Rickon asked "How long will you be gone for?" he asked, biting his lip.

"Two moons, maybe three. I'll sail from White Harbor, Lord Manderly will organize the ships and so from here to there it will be a moon's journey, with the same back. I'll stay no longer than I need to." he said and Rickon nodded.

"I don't want you to go." his brother said softly.

"Nor I to leave, brother. But we need the Dragonglass for what's to come. Davos will serve you well, he's a far smarter man than me and Tormund and the Free Folk, I trust them completely. Ghost though." he said looking at the white wolf "Ghost stays by your side wherever you go, promise me that, that and you'll listen to him when he gives you warning. Had I him by my side then I'd not have walked into…" he said leaving the rest unsaid.

"I'll not go anywhere without him, Jon. You have my word on that." Rickon said and a moment later he held his brother close to his chest and felt his arms grip him tightly "Swear to me that you'll come back. People don't when they leave me, swear to me, brother." Rickon said and Jon could hear the sobs as he spoke the words.

"Nothing will stop me coming back, I swear it." he said and felt Rickon relax.

They left the next day, Jon, Melisandre, and forty men and as he rode out the gates he saw the men of the North look at him. He smirked at the small nod that he was given by Lyanna Mormont and then he looked to the walls to see his brother standing there and he was proud to see him look on so stoically. They'd said their goodbyes, Rickon's best wishes and hopes for a speedy return somehow ringing far truer than Sansa's and as he looked to them standing there he felt a shiver run down his spine. To one side stood Rickon with Ser Davos, Lord Manderly, Tormund, and Ghost, and to the other Sansa and Littlefinger. The smirk on the man's face almost made him turn and race up the steps to reach him and to push him from the walls.

"You will see your brother again, Jon Snow. His purpose is not yet done." Melisandre said and her words brought him some comfort. "Nor is yours." she added and this for some reason did not.