Oathkeeper

Chapter 51: Tales From The Past

*Slight Trigger Warning: This Chapter VERY VAGUELY recaps Ramsay Bolton's evil ass and his assault on Sansa*

"Must you always make the wrong decisions, Rickon!" Ilizabeth exclaimed as she slammed the door behind them.

She'd been chewing him out the entire walk back to their bedchamber from the dining hall. After the awkwardly quiet dinner concluded, their mother sorrowfully kissed their heads and dragged herself back to the confinement of her own room. Rickon and Ilizabeth turned their backs to one another, now changing into their night clothes as they continued to bicker.

"What did I do?" Rickon scoffed.

"I could tell by that smug look on your stupid face. If Aunt Rilley hadn't said something you would've." She continued.

They turned back around simultaneously. As they found themselves growing increasingly angry with one another, their similar features furrowed and creased in the same place. Ilizabeth plopped down on the bed, letting out a big sigh as her gaze was stuck on the sandy brick stone that made up the four walls surrounding them. The breeze from the tide whipped through the opened window and filled their room with the same smell the entire island reeked of, salt.

"We have a right to know things!" He shouted.

"We don't! Not when it isn't about us, not when mothers' didn't want us to know for good reason" Ilizabeth explained.

"How can you be so content with always being left in the dark? They refused to tell us about our conception, about our gift, about your destiny beyond the wall, and now this" He sat down beside her.

"This isn't the same, Rickon" She said with his words now somewhat getting to her.

"But how can you be sure?"

Ilizabeth paused. She toyed with the hem of her nightgown as she racked her mind for an answer. As much as she wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, this was yet another lie. She hadn't expected her mothers to retell every single gruesome detail about their past, but she couldn't understand why they would lie about when they fell in love. Ilizabeth felt conflicted. On one hand, she didn't want to pry, but on the other, she grew tired of being deceived by people meant to care about her.

"So, what do you propose we do?" Ilizabeth turned to face her brother. "Should we wait to return home and plainly ask mother about it?"

"Well, I don't think you'll like my suggestion, sister" Rickon volume trailed off.

For a second it seemed like her whole world stopped moving. The curtains no longer danced in the breeze, nor did the flames from the candles. Her brother had ceased to move too. He sat still, with an expression that suggested the exact same words he said, that she wouldn't like whatever followed next.

"We don't have to ask them anything, not if we can use my sight to see it ourselves,"

"No," She immediately dismissed the idea.

"What, why not?"

"Because . . ." She paused nervously. "Aunt Rilley said mother had been through a lot, what if we don't like what we see?"

"You're being dramatic Ilizabeth, what could it possibly be?" He questioned.

"You seem to be forgetting the reason as to why we have zero grandparents and half our uncles. Bad things have happened, Rickon. Why can't you see that they simply wish to protect us from that?" She argued.

"Because refusing to speak of it does not remove the possibility of it still occurring. Maybe the reason all these bad things happened to mother is because she was too naive, too busy thinking only good of a world that just isn't!" He yelled loudly.