Rickon had been in his room, setting up an elaborate village with his knights and other toys. He enjoyed pretending to be a lord over them -mainly because h knew he would never be a real lord. When he suddenly heard the knocking at his door, he immediatley assumed it was the Septa or someone else he did not want to see right now, so his first instinct was to yell at the person to go away, but his spirits rose when he heard his uncle's voice. Rickon sprinted to the door and flung it open. He hugged his uncle as tight as possible and smiled up at him. ''I missed you dearly!'' Now Benjan had came back to Winterfell, Rickon didn't leave his side for nearly three days. He didn't want him to leave ever again.
Now, being a thirteen year old boy, Rickon's fury really knew no bounds. The only ones who could calm him were his uncle and mother. Rickon swung the steel of his sword at the nineteen year old ruthlessly. After another minute of intense sparring, he disarmed the man. Though, the disarming didn't stop Rickon from fighting. He rammed into the man, knocking him onto the muddy ground. Raising his sword over his head, wanting to swing it down on the man. Instead, he started to rain his fists down upon the other boy. ''Come on! Weakling!''
Rickon was seeing red. He could hear the man under him crying out and everyone shouting at him to stop, but he couldn't. He would have mortally wounded this boy, if it weren't for the warm, familiar embrace of his uncle. At first, Rickon swung at his uncle, but thankfully missed. After a few moments of being held down, he surrendered to his uncle, the strenght seemed to drain out of him, along with the adrenaline. Suddenly, he felt very exhausted, and even a bit embarrassed. Sometimes, he went into the state that made him furious, bloodthirsty, and primal. He didn’t like it, and it often made him feel extremely exhausted. Lately, he’d have little recollection of his actions, often being confused when people would accuse him of being too brutal.
"Benjen…" He whispered out and looked up at his uncle. He thinks I’m a monster, too. He knew what people said behind his back, and he didn’t care most of the time, but Benjen was a special person. If he thought Rickon was a monster it must be true. Rickon very much wanted to be in his chambers alone, but nothing was that easy.
"Get him out of here!" shouted the Master at Arms, "He’s not coming back here until he’s gotten ahold of himself! Benjen, do you know how much trouble he’s caused around here?!"
Rickon stood up, his dark eyes traveled to the ground to look at the man he had injured. He was alive, but seriously bloodied. “I…I did that?” He silently asked his uncle. Rickon felt as if he may vomit. His stomach was turning and his body was aching. Plus, guilt was spreading thoughout his body at an alarming rate. He didn’t care that the Master at arms was speaking to him harshly, as he was sure that he deserved it. Rickon would personally pay for any damages caused as well as a personal apology. He was really sorry. Rickon had been getting angrier and fiercer and the boys of Winterfell were paying the price
