Unforeseen circumstances || Lyra & Rickon
It was nothing more but a sudden sharp pain just below his ribs. On the side, just where the armor he is wearing is most vulnerable. He clenched his teeth and tried to ignore the stabbing pain, caused by the arrow sticking out of his side. Rickon’s hand was stained red with blood when he held it against the fresh wound. As he stumbled to a corner, he swore softly. That such a little nonentity could cause such pain. Rickon sunk down through his knees as he reached the corner of the courtyard, sheltered from the violence around him. Two of is men who saw their king getting injured came running into his direction. One thing was certain, they had to get rid of the arrow.
With much effort the men brought their wounded king back to their camp as the others continued fighting. “Get it out.” Rickon hissed through his teeth, referring to the arrow sticking out of his body. One of the men who had brought him back to the camp has limited medical knowledge but nodded slowly. This was not a difficult procedure, even a man without any medical knowledge could succeed. In one smooth movement he pulled the arrow out of Rickon’s body and blood ran out of the wound. The pain was horrific, but Rickon remained calm.
"We do not know if the point of the arrow was poisoned, you Grace." Rickon looked at the arrow but remained silence. "It is important we keep the wound clean, but our resources here are limited." The king could tell his man hadn’t completely finished talking yet. He saw he was struggling. "Speak." Rickon said firmly. The man looked down at his king and let out a soft sigh. "There is a possibility you get a fever, your Grace. If you do, the chance you will survive is naught.'' The man paused once more. ''Your life is in the hands of the Gods, your Grace." In the distance he could hear his men and the Greyjoy’s continuing the battle at the Twins. Rickon wants to be there, he has to be there. But the arrow changed everything. ”Bring me home.” He said after a long time. ”If I have to, I rather die at Winterfell than here.” His men nodded slowly before the began to arrange their trip back to the North.
As stubborn as he was, Rickon traveled home on horseback. He was still losing blood. Not gallos, but it could be felt. The journey home took longer than usual. His men traveling with him made him rest more than he wanted to. The king's wound had to be taken care of, all to avoid it from getting infected. At the end of their journey to the North, Rickon was completely whacked but he kept strong. The night was still young when he rode through the gates of Winterfell. Loud knocking could be heard on the heavy wooden bedchamber door. ''My lady..'' The maid knocked once more before she already entered the chamber. ''My lady, please forgive me but he is back.'' The girl quickly approached her queen and already took her gown from the chair. ''The King is back.'' She helped the pregnant queen out of bed and put on her gown. ''He only just arrived, with two of his men.''