✓ | 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑻𝒐 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 (R.STARK 2/3)

Chapter Fifteen::Winterfell

Raina had been right to doubt the comfort in her return to a place so familiar. She'd expected Ned to be stood in the courtyard, like old times, with his wife. And Robb to race Jon to Raina's side, desperate to see her and embrace their once close friend. She'd anticipated Arya, Bran and Rickon to shortly appear at her side also, with their older siblings, and Sansa would instead join Esme's company. Robb and Jon would be pleased to see Delvin and Finn, pretending to wrestle one another at first sight, and teasing one another all throughout their reunion. They're parents would greet each other in a mature fashion, leaving the children to their excitable antics. But instead of the warm welcome that had been routine upon Raina's visits to the Stark's home, she was instead met with a cold wind that haunted the derelict courtyard, not a familiar face in sight, and Bolton banners fighting the strong breeze that came in from up north. It wasn't what she'd been used to, but she hadn't expected much more. This place was a ghost of what once was, and if Raina had somehow deluded herself into thinking it would be back to normal for her arrival, she'd soon demolished that fantasy - replacing it with realism. Ramsay rode at the head of the crowd of horses that now flooded the icy courtyard, letting his betrothed tag along somewhere in the middle, surrounded by his soldiers, with only the recognisable face of Brienne to keep her company in such a decrepit place of her memories. 

"Lady Glover." Boomed a voice that Raina knew all too well, and one that made her want to gag at the mere thought of the man's presence. Roose Bolton. He stood atop the battlements with an amount of pride that was sickening to contemplate how he'd acquired it, and his bold head held high in the wind. "Welcome to Winterfell." He greeted, bowing his head somewhat, with a sly, smug, smile toying with his gravelled face. Raina tried not to scream at the sight of the traitor, and kept her head low in an acknowledging bow to her host, though even Brienne could sense the forced nature of it. "Please, allow my son to show you to your room." Lord Bolton gestured to the bastard now dismounting his steed, who cast an unnerving smile at the young Glover - who was now wishing she'd agreed to Delvin's escort. She wished she'd brought Asher, at least, to keep her amused in such a dark journey, and just for an extra measure of security that she was doubting she would find in Bolton men. 

Brienne, in Raina's train of thoughts, had also dismounted her horse, and was now stood at Raina's, preparing it for when Raina decided to move. The Glover girl had been so focused on the familiar setting, and the men she so despised, that she hadn't thought about actually getting off of her steed. She'd been thinking about Asher, Delvin and Finn, and even Robb. The last time she'd come to Winterfell, and had the welcome she was so accustomed to, he'd been here - he'd been alive. He'd run to her almost immediately, spent hours with her just talking about the months they'd been apart. He'd even kissed her. He didn't know at the time, or if he did he paid little concern for it, about Raina's true love for him. Evidently, as it turned out, he only learned of it weeks before his death. Being at his home without him made Raina feel worse than she already did. 

Letting out a frosty sigh, Raina clambered down, her hands reluctantly prying away from the leather reins as she finally backed away from her transportation. She liked horses, not as much as most women of her age however, she held nothing against them - she was especially thankful this horse, in particular, had been well behaved the entire time they'd spent with one another, and had been a comforting companion to have on such a long journey. Patting the animal once atop its head, Raina turned to Brienne - the woman who'd insisted on joining her for this - who now had company. Brienne was a tall, brutishly well built woman, with short blond hair and pale complexion. She was, in fact, tremendously tall - making the strongest of warriors look as short as Raina in all circumstances. When stood beside the Bolton's bastard, who was not a man of height in any case, he looked impressively short, and pathetic. Brienne liked making men feel less when stood at her side, this brought a certain sense of accomplishment to her, Ramsay deserved to be made a fool of, his height was an easy target, and Brienne was proud to be the one to humiliate him in such an easy way. 

Raina smiled up at the woman, not being so easily swayed by her male characteristics. She nodded at her companion, to which Brienne nodded back, and the pair looked expectantly at Ramsay, as though he were about to sprout wings and flap back to the hell from whence he came. But he smirked, to their deteste. "M'lady," Ramsay held up his arm, a daringly smug curve etching into his snow-like cheeks. The idea of being near such a vile man, let alone touch him, made Raina want to cry, and scream, and fight her way home, having to act civil around such a bastard was like adding salt to a fresh wound. But she did it anyway. She linked her own arm in his, and smiled as best she could through the harsh chill of winter. She wanted to cry anyway, from the lack of warmth she found in her 'homecoming', but somehow she remained vigilant as long as she was touching Ramsay, as long as he held her arm in his. Once he let go, that was a different story. 

He'd weaved through many corridors Raina knew were pointless, naming at least 7 different shortcuts they could've taken to get to their destination, but they were instead dragging their time together on with each corridor, and corner, they ventured through. Ramsay spoke of how the Boltons, bravely, recaptured Winterfell from that treacherous, and insane, Greyjoy boy - who Raina was pleased was no longer around, as she'd always despised that boy - however something, everything, in Ramsay's tale sounded off, as though it had been remodelled to suit a purpose. For the very same reason Raina paid little attention to Ramsay's voice at all, too busy gazing about the familiar halls, wishing to find the hearth like fire that came with recognisable company. She wanted to stumble across the Starks - she wanted Robb to show up and take her home, or at least to his cordial embrace, and away from the monstrous beast escorting her to her room. 

When Ramsay finally came to a halt, the lump in Raina's throat rose further, her gaze glued to the sight in front of her. The bastard courteously bowed his head towards the door, speaking in his slick, ugly voice that was ripe with poison. "M'lady, your room." He'd said, his hand gesturing to the room that made Raina want to be sick. Robb's room. Of course, it was only her luck that she'd be placed in the once so comforting environment, that now held only ghosts of once happy memories.  She didn't want to go into the room, she didn't want to have to see it's interior only to find the lack of a certain recognisable face, she didn't want to have to live through that. It was bad enough being back in Winterfell without a single Stark, but to have to come into Robb's room - where she'd spent so many nights, and days, in his company, talking and just enjoying time with one another - would surely make her feel ten times worse about the whole arrangement. 

Nodding politely at the monster stood in front of the entrance, Raina cast one more look at Brienne, and tried to swallow whatever conflicting feelings she was having about her living quarters. She groped her hand around the brass handle and hauled it open with all her might, at least all of it that she could obtain in such a time. The door, heavy and oak coloured, swung open at her command, and revealed the derelict chamber of her dead love. "Good night," She whispered to the company still stood at the door, before slamming it shut and blocking out all prying eyes that might watch her fall apart, and cry herself to sleep. Because that was all she could do when sitting in his room, lying in his bed, without him holding her in his relaxing embrace, and protecting her against the harsh winter cold that had flooded the fading kingdom since his murder. Without him, all she could do was fall apart, like snow that now fell on the unfamiliar Winterfell Raina had returned to.