Summer child~Brandon Stark x Reader

Chapter 31- A Message

Rickon was hungry. The winter had been along for only but a month. But he knew certain foods he would not see again until the summer. He wanted the fresh summer fruits imported from the South. He wanted warm mutton. He spent a lot of time in with the cooks when he was lonely. Smelling and asking for samplings of food like a homeless child. A good portion of the food went to the Wintertown to feed its inhabitants. One of the men who came the short but seemingly agonizingly long distance, stopped to see Arya a few times. He was a tall man. He had dark shaggy hair and held a sword at his hip. Usually it was him and two other men who were taking crates back and forth about every half fortnight. Rickon would watch in fascination. And while this was all happening hed grab a small piece off of the loaves in the cupboard and quickly put it in his mouth. He'd let his saliva dissolve it. The warm taste of the bread was too much. But the winter again wasn't too far along. No one was going hungry. There was plenty of food for everyone. But Rickon was at a tough time in his life still. and he wasn't alone. He was seeing the worst of it though as of now. His hunger grew as he grew. It didn't seem like he was growing that much. But his hunger sure did. He sat criss cross in the corner and stared at a small ant trying to make away with a breadcrumb. It was struggling to drag the crumb and it would stop every now and then to reposition its grasp. But it never got far. Someone sat next to Rickon and made him look up. Osha was sitting cross crossed and gazing at the ant. "Poor little guy." She dropped her hand to smush it. "NO! Don't!!" Rickon cried. She jumped. "What's the matter with you? You normally are the one crushing bugs by your anger." "No one is taking that food here. Let it go to good use." Osha smiled. "You sound like your brother little lord." she rubbed Rickon's back comfortingly. "How is Y/n?" He asks. "She's alright. I just saw her. She's with Arya upstairs. The balcony. If you go up, you'll need a cloak." He pondered this for a moment. "How is Talisa?" "Talisa is doing very well. Glowing like any carrying woman." Osha mutters. With that, Rickon stood up. "Let's go see Y/n. Maybe Bran will be there too. I want to tell him a story that old nan told me about the long night." He grabbed Osha's sleeve and hurried the best he could to maneuver through the kitchens and to make it into the main section of the castle. With that, a pair of stairs. Once he reached the floor he wished to be on, he hurried to the large room with no tables or chairs. On it's right, a balcony. And there stood his eccentric sister. Sword at her hip and hair in two braids she talked animatedly with the other girl. Y/n. Her long hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. He imagined she had hair a shade lighter than the legendary Queen Daenerys. The former queen Cersei had much golder hair than y/n. But if anything was, y/n's hair was her most beautiful feature. She had attributes that just caught a man's eye. Rickon, growing up, saw to her as a form of pure beauty. He didn't feel any attraction towards his gorgeous sisters so it was easy to become attached to y/n. His innocent mind thought nothing horrendous or repulsive of her, but he thought she was absolutely beautiful. And very very kind. Her hand touched the cold metal of the rail and he watched it. She looked like the type like Arya, to always carry a weapon. Perhaps she had a dagger on her somewhere. Rickon wished he could carry one. Osha knew he could but his father said he was much to young to carry one. Maybe dragonglass later in the winter. Rickon was no fool. That'd be no pride. It'd be protection. He was only just a bit naive at his young age. His lessons had proven horrible according to him so far. He couldn't once make the target and he vaguely remembered being outside in the summer yard with his brothers. Bran trying to make a target but never hitting it once. He wished he was as young. Things were so much easier. He listened in to y/n and Arya and yearned for them. For their warmth, comfort, companionship.. He needed those he held dear. He wished he could be a part of something. Of their conversation exactly as this moment. So he softly pattered over and stood between the girl who was one of his closest and most trusted friends, and his dear older sister who understood more than petty sowing like the Septa taught the young ladies of the keep. They smiled and Arya ran her hand through his curls. He looked up adoringly at her. He wanted a sword just like her. He wanted to make a shot dead on just like her. He wanted to be Jon's favorite. He wanted to be someone's favorite. Ever. Osha must love Bran more. He understand why everyone loved Bran so much. He loved him as much too. But it wasn't fair. He was the youngest. No one paid any attention to him. He frowned and felt tears prick his eyes. He tried to look away, in a failed attempt to hide his watery eyes. His emotions were getting the best of him. Osha stood behind him and understood his pain. He was only a child. Y/n grasped his hand gently and he squeezed it almost losing it completely. He blinked furiously. At the tears, and at everything he ever saw. He was only a child.