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

Chapter Sixteen::Whitehills

The night was dark, and full of unnerving thoughts that only swayed Raina's consciousness more. She lay awake until dawn, glaring at the ceiling and picturing better times that had been, or could've been, spent in the very same room. Robb wasn't here, and the shadow of what could've been still lurked between the stones in the walls, the ghost of his memory still lingering in the darkness surrounding Raina's bed. It was no surprise she couldn't sleep, when all she could sense in her bed was the presence of a lost love, that would never return to his favoured pillows again. On several occasions as children Raina had recalled Robb exclaiming his love for his bed, and how much he hates departing from it day after day. Currently, the young Glover girl was struggling to find the same appeal, when all the covers did was remind her of the man they once engulfed with a welcoming warmth, and instead now shrouded her with a chill that shivered the entire building.

When she finally prepared herself for breakfast, both physically and mentally, she stood at the window for a brief moment. The view was the same, a golden view that drooled over the windowsill and crawled along Raina's floor, brining with it a juxtaposing warmth that she'd been lacking the company of all night. It was refreshing, to stand in the light of the morning sun and be engulfed by its yellow raining glow. But the warmth didn't last long, as it was soon clear Raina would have to leave the confides of her room behind ever so soon, and be forced into the arms of the winter chill that now haunted Winterfell's halls. When the Starks had been here, the keep always felt like it had life to it, a comforting heat radiated from the walls back then, it was like a positive energy walked the halls; but now that life had died, and Winterfell was but a cold, decrepit husk of what once was.

Raina sighed, prying her eyes away from the contrasting view from her window, and faced the door with wavering bravery. She had no fear of the Boltons, there was nothing they could do now that would be worse than their previous, traitorous actions, however that didn't cure the residing hatred she regarded them with - she loathed the idea of dining with them as though they weren't the bastards that killed the King. Yet, Raina somehow found the nerve to walk out into the corridor, preparing herself for an awkward encounter.

On the way down the stairs, Raina heard distant shouting - which came from a voice she distantly recognised. She tried hard not to comprehend what the men were squabbling over now, even if it was somewhat intriguing, she instead tried to focus on other things. Winterfell, like she'd thought on many occasions before hand, looked like a corpse of a familiar home, that was now lifeless and grey on the inside, and currently facing repairs to its outside appearance. That Greyjoy boy had done a number on the place when trying to set it alight. That was the only good thing Ramsay had ever done in his life, castrating that brat; that's what Theon gets for killing Bran and Rickon, his brother's just as much as Robb's, or at least that's how Raina liked to view it, as it made her forget that he was just as much a Stark as her or Jon, and had once been a close friend to her love - Theon could even be the last, remaining, relative to the Stark's Raina might ever find. At least that made her somewhat glad he'd only had his dick cut off as opposed to being flayed and strung up outside, like Raina probably would've hoped to have been done a few weeks ago, had she gotten her own way with it. 

She'd heard the news a few weeks back, she didn't know if Robb knew but he failed to mention it to her if he did; she'd cried herself to sleep that night. She loved Bran and Rickon - they reminded her a lot of the two youngest Forrester boys, but there was something distinctly warming about the pair, they were her own brothers just as much as they were Robb's. She remembered the times she held Bran as a young boy, as when he was born she was about 7, and then doing the same with Rickon when he joined the family. She'd grown up with them, until the last couple of years, but she could clearly picture what they looked like, and what their last memory together had been. They'd been out in the Godswood, practicing sword fighting, her, Robb, Jon, and Theon, then out come these 3 eager children waving sticks that were their only suggestion of swords, eager to join the fray. She believed the played hide and seek after that, and then went paddling in the pond at dusk. She loved that day, but it was the last she'd ever spent with the remaining Stark family. Sansa had even joined them at one point, even if she hadn't been at all amused by their choice of action, she'd finally loosened up by the end of the night. 

Coming to a halt at the bottom of the stairwell, running a reminiscing finger along the banister that she and the other Stark kids and ridden down on multiple occasions, Raina could hear the voices much clearer now. Ludd Whitehill - that was who the voice belonged too. Raina had recognised it a mile away, had she chosen to acknowledge it at first - but ignorance is bliss and all that. He was bickering with that bastard over something petty, but his voice was enough to get Raina thinking. She wondered if Asher had gone home yet, back to his family. She hoped for his sake, and all the other's that he had. She wondered if Rodrik and Gregor were alright, or whether they fell in the fray. Thinking about their fate almost had her choking on a fearsome lump in her throat. She remembered saying goodbye to Mira 3 years ago, and how she'd hoped she would have seen her again before now. She prayed that she was safer as far away from the North as she could get, even if that meant not being with her family. Raina hoped Asher wrote to Mira, if he failed to go back to Ironrath anytime soon. Riana thought about the twins, and how she loved them so. She'd imprinted her personality on Talia just as she had done with Arya, and could remember the cheeriness of both Talia and Ethan. How Raina missed Ethan's lute playing, he was so gifted and carefree when she knew him. She wished she could be sure they were safe too. And finally little Ryon, whom was still young and naive, she hoped he did not have to change just yet, like Rodrik and Asher did. 

Raina finally breathed, not thinking about other families, or her own, anymore, just focusing on one foot in front of the other. Ludd Whitehill was still howling the walls down, but Raina couldn't care. She was now interested. "I wanted ALL the Ironwood, not just half!" The pig-headed man bellowed, probably not getting into Ramsay's good books with his bad attitude. "You will get what you are given, or face the same fate that little Forrester boy did - You have Ryon, barter him for whatever you want from now on, I did my part and killed the little lord, don't expect me to get my hands dirty on your behalf again. Take it up with my father if you have further problems, or get out!" Raina, having spent moments walking without a fault, and breathing without issue, failed to do either from that point on. What happened? Ethan, Ryon, Asher, Rodrik, which lord was it that Ramsay had hurt? Why was Ryon with the Whitehills? Was he ok? Or was he dead? Raina couldn't think with all these questions filling her head. "You killed a child, Ramsay, not a fucking king. Pull your head out of your arse you cocky prick." A with that the Whitehill lord stormed out of the great hall, barrelling past Raina whom he paid no interest at all. Which was a good thing too, as he'd probably recognise her from the day Asher was sent to Essos, as she'd practically clawed his eyes out when he accused Asher of such atrocities. 

Killed a child...But Ryon was with Ludd, so that meant it had been Ethan they spoke of...Which meant...

Raina followed Ludd out of the building, but diverted to the Godswood almost instantly, the wash of fresh salt water cascading down her cheeks in uncontrollable waves without warning. She hadn't expected it to hit her so hard, so soon. The news of a close friend, whom growing up she'd cared for like a younger brother, died at the hand of her betrothed. She'd only thought of him moments before hearing of his death - his little smile, and graceful lute talents, and how much she'd loved him...How could he be dead so soon? And so young? 

How long had it been that Raina had last spoken to the young Forrester? How long had it been since she last held him, or played with him, or heard him play? How long had it been since he died, without her knowing? How long would it take for this to not hurt as it did now? Because it did hurt. It stung like a fucking dagger to the lung, crushing any chance of breathing, or a regulated heat beat. It was just pouring salt on an open wound, that still hurt like it did when inflicted. Robb was gone, Rodrik was too, potentially, Esme and Gregor, Catelyn was gone, Bran and Rickon with her, and now Ethan...Where did the war go so badly, that this was the fate everyone around Raina must face? Everyone she knew, and had ever cared for and loved, now fell to an early grave, and there was nothing she could do to amend that...She hadn't even said goodbye....