he fell— rickon fell after running SO FAR, after coming SO CLOSE... he fell, like the clay sculpt, MAESTER LUWIN had pushed from winterfell’s walls; so many years ago. and when he fell, he choked on HIS OWN blood. and his heart? his heart had ceased, but the fear in their little brother’s eyes had not. their LITTLE BROTHER, lay at his feet. an arrow straight through his chest, bleeding RED from the tip; as horses storm past. jon has moved on, to THE BATTLE— but bran, a mere phantom stays put. and stares down at HIS FAILURE. stares down at rickon like he should have stared down at summer, leaf, hodor & the blood raven. they’re all dead. dead, dead, dead. jojen was first, and rickon would surely not be the last. yet HIS DEATH, drives the nail home— it drives A SCREAM from brandon’s lips; one that transpires in the world OUTSIDE of his vision. and it shakes the horse, RATTLES him so, as he stirs and bucks; oh meera is terrified, worried as she runs to bran’s side but she CANNOT wake him. he won’t wake so long as he stares down at his little brother’s hollowed eyes. oh rickon, he’d GROWN— grown to look LIKE ROBB; and just like robb, he too was dead. the young wolf reborn, had naught even the time to show THE WORLD the man he was— for this world stole that opportunity from him... and bran....? never gave him the chance.
rickon was sent away, and he could not shed the guilt, for it IS HIS to bare, and his to bare alone. he LET this happen— he sent rickon back, and now rickon was dead. their little brother, laying somewhere on FROST LADEN ground, with an arrow sticking out of his heart. -- oh, how could he know so much? but not know that this— this CRUEL FATE, that was GOING TO take place on the story which leads bran, to whom he is supposed to be. how could he not stop this? damn the mad king, damn the tower of joy, damn their father and ancestors. if only he had SEEN THIS; if only he had STOPPED rickon, from leaving. stopped osha, from taking him. rickon would still be ALIVE, if he were here.
but he’s dead. dead, dead, dead. and bran’s still screaming. in fact it’s THE ONLY noise, for miles. and it cuts through air, like A KNIFE through butter.
&&. @wiingedwolf ♥’d this post for a starter!