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Rowlf Stark could only stare at the woman being given away by her brother in marriage to Rowlf’s own father. 

“I don’t like this,” Benjen muttered as he crossed his arms in distaste of their father’s new marriage. 

“I know,” Rowlf quietly said as he watched his father speak his vows to his new wife, Lady Lynara Stark. 

“But we can’t say anything, can we?” Benjen smiled bitterly. 

“You know as well as I do that we have no power to go against our Lord Father for his decision to remarry after our mother’s death,” Rowlf looked at his father and new stepmother with an empty look in his grey-blue eyes. 

“That does not mean that we have to like this or her,” Benjen muttered as he vaguely gestures in Lynara’s direction. 

“Just…” Rowlf hesitated. 

“Just what, Brother?” Benjen raised an eyebrow at his twin. 

Rowlf swallowed back spit. “Just…Just do not be insubordinate or insolent towards our Lord Father’s new wife,” 

I don’t think that he would forgive us for that, even if he claims to love us and Mother. Duty demands that we show respect and obedience to the new Lady Stark, even if we don’t like her or if she walked over the corpse of the previous lady to get the lord’s cloak drapes over those scrawny little shoulders of hers. 

Rowlf swallowed back the bile that rose in his mouth due to his thoughts. Duty, what a horrible word it seemed right now to young Rowlf Stark. 

And Father has always cared about duty. And a scary thought came over him, Even if that meant walking over the corpse of his deceased wife that hasn’t been dead for very long?  

It was such a terrifying thought that Rowlf found himself being unwilling to truly think about it. 

Benjen gently bit the inside of his cheek. “I will not be unfilial, but I will not be that woman’s son,” Benjen’s blue eyes hardened and they were as cold as ice.

That whore made her way to Father’s bed while my mother was trying to fight off the Stranger. My poor mother died believing that Father loved her still while he was busy bedding a distant cousin. 

‘And getting her with child…’ a voice whispered darkly, practically taunting him, in the young lad’s mind. 

Benjen’s breathing was heavy and his body was shaking as he looked away from the wedding ceremony.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Rowlf sighed. “That would rather be too much, I believe,” 

”Rowlf, Benjen, I want to tell you two something,” said Rickon. 

“All right then, Benjen shrugged. 

“I see no issue in this,” Rowlf said simply.

“Right then,” Rickon led his two younger brothers towards his study room. The room was spacious and filled with books and maps and furniture and tapestries. 

Rowlf recognizes some of the tapestries as having been made by his deceased mother, the late Lady Renè Tully. 

I am glad that my brother Rickon has kept something of my mother in his study room. It is nice to see that my Mother is still being remembered. 

“So, what is it that you need to discuss with us, Brother?” Benjen asked. 

Rickon coughed a bit. “Well I just have to say that in case Jeyne and I have no boys, I want you two to promise me that you will support my Sansa’s claim to Winterfell and the North,” 

“What?” Benjen frowned. “You think that we would usurp Sansa if you die without getting a son on Jeyne?” 

“N-No, of course not!” Rickon hissed, his cheeks became flushed due to simple embarrassment. “It’s just that…well I don’t want to take my chances,” 

“I understand,” said Rowlf. 

“You do?” Benjen turned towards his twin brother. “Rol, you do know that Rick is accusing us of possibly usurping little Sansa if he dies without a son on Jeyne,”

”I said it was not like that!” Rickon protested vehemently. 

“For one, there has been a history of female heirs having their father’s lands and castle taken by an uncle or a male cousin,” Rowlf reminded Benjen. 

Benjen nodded grudgingly. “Fine, you are right about that,” 

“Mother once told us that there had been a Bracken lady who was her father’s only child and that the deceased lord had intended for everything to go to her despite the protests from relatives. But unfortunately for her, the Blackwoods led a raid on Bracken land over disputed territories and got the poor lady killed as she was visiting those lands. A cousin inherited the title and everything, the Brackens added that to the list of reasons of why they hate the Blackwoods while the Blackwoods ended up having their lands raided in retaliation,”

”The Riverlands seem to have a very bloody history,” Rickon mused out loud. “Wasn’t there a few peace treaties involving a couple of marriages between the Brackens and the Blackwoods?” 

“Yes, I believe that the incident with the death of the would be ruling Lady Bracken ended up leading to a peace treaty sealed with a marriage,” Benjen said. 

“I’m surprised that you listened to Mother’s lessons on history of the Riverlands, Brother,” Rowlf teased with a smile. 

Benjen glared at his twin. “I’ll get you back for this brother,” Benjen warned. 

“I would like to see that,” Rowlf smiled.

”While this is a lovely brotherly moment between you both to see, I must get an answer from the both of you,” Rickon interrupted. “Can you two make me an oath that you will support my daughters claim to Winterfell if I die without having a male heir?” 

The twins looked at each other before looking at their elder brother with a small smile. “We vow to support Sansa and Serena’s claim to the North if you are to die without a male heir,” Rowlf promised.

”Good,” Rickon sighed in relief. And it seemed as if a large burden had been lifted from his wonderful broad shoulders that he inherited from his lord father. 

“We can kill whoever tries to steal Winterfell from your daughters if you want us to,” Benjen offered with a grin. 

“Ben,” Rowlf looked at his twin in slight disapproval. 

“Oh by the Old Gods, Ben no,” Rickon’s eyes widened in slight horror. “I don’t want for you to become a killer, even if it is for my daughters sake! I shan’t ask of you such a large thing!” 

And Moth-…I mean Mutti Renè would have never wanted for her son, or any child of hers, to become a killer. Even if she was the one to kill Lord Borros Baratheon during the Dance of the Dragons… 

Rickon could never forgive himself if his brothers ended up becoming killers in order to protect his daughters Sansa and Serena. Rickon will never forgive himself if such a thing happened. 

“D-Damn…Damn it to Seven Hells!” Benjen spat as he struggled to stay awake admits the chaos surrounding him. 

We should have never left the North to fight for Daeron Targaryen, a simple mere green-boy with no experience of true warfare. 

“B-Ben…jen…” Rickon croaked out and he spat out some blood as he laid down on the ground dying from blood loss and with one of his legs broken. 

Benjen, where are you brother? Are you dead? Have you been killed by those bloody Dornishmen? Oh brother please do not die. 

And Rickon thought that he should have never allowed for Benjen to come with him down south to fight in the Young Dragon’s conquest of Dorne.

“R-Rick…!” Benjen panted as he crawled around the sandy ground, trying desperately to look for his brother’s body among the corpses littered the floor. 

When Benjen found his brother’s body, he draped himself over Rickon’s brother and listened to his heart beat as he panted and his breathing became heavy.

“D-Don’t die Rick,” Benjen panted out. Do it for Jeyne and your girls if not for us and for Father. 

“…mhm…S-Sorry,” Rick coughed on some of his own blood and weakly turned around in order to spit it out.

Some of the blood ended up getting on Benjen, unfortunately. 

“S-Sorry…that,” Rickon’s brown eyes (so much like his mother’s, the Lady Arra Norrey, eyes) with specks of grey were very apologetic. 

“Tis good,” Benjen winced at the pain that he felt all over his too sour and tired (and worn out) body. 

I should have never dragged you with me to war, Rickon thinks as he struggles to keep his eyes wide open. You should have been back home helping Father by touring the North to make sure that everything was in order alongside dearest Rowlf and then visiting Riverrun, the home of your mother’s family. 

Rickon threw up some blood. 

“R-Rick…” Benjen whimpered out weakly.

Oh brother you should have been back home training to become Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North and spending time with Jeyne and the girls, not fighting and dying in the sands of Dorne for a lost cause… 

(“Oh and I’ve dug two graves for us my dear…”)

And Benjen briefly thought that he never should have gone south to fight for King Daeron I, the son of Aegon III who their father had faithfully served briefly as regent before he went back home to the North with his new Southron wife from the Riverlands who fought in the Targaryen War for Succession in tow. 

Will Father make statues of us, his two sons that died in Dorne fighting for their king so he could bring Dorne to heel under the blasted Iron Throne and uniting all of Westeros once and for all?

”Ah, will you dig two graves for us if we are to die together?”

In the end, neither Rickon or Benjen Stark made it out of Dorne alive. 

Ever since Rowlf’s father died, everything had started to go to absolute hell. 

For one, his younger half-brother Jonnel rebelled against the decision for young Sansa (the eldest daughter and child of their elder brother Rickon) to be made ruling Lady of Winterfell and the Wardeness of the North in her own right as the eldest living child of the previous lord’s own heir. 

Something that had been supported by Lord Cregan Stark, Rowlf’s father and Sansa’s grandfather, after Rowlf had told the old man of him and Benjen’s own promise to Rickon before their (Rickon and Benjen’s) unfortunate deaths in Dorne during the failed Conquest of Dorne by Daeron I Targaryen. 

Oh Gods, Benjen, Rowlf sighed as he ran a hand through his reddish-brown hair. He hadn’t thought about his dead twin brother in some (dreadful) time. 

Probably because he was too worried and preoccupied with dealing with Jonnel (and his full-blooded brothers) rebelling against Sansa and her new rule. 

(Then there was the grief over his father. Then there was the worry over his sister-in-law Jeyne Manderly’s -Rickon’s widow and the mother of his daughters- health)

Really, at this rate Rowlf might just die instead from stress instead of dying because of his younger half-brother’s like he had been thinking he might! 

Then Rowlf heard a knock at the door.

He straightened his back and said, “Come in,” 

The door opened and in walked Sansa Stark, daughter of Rickon Stark (son and heir of Cregan Stark). 

“Sansa,” Rowlf’s eyes widened, “what brings you here, dearest niece?” 

“I have come to ask you of how fares our campaign against Uncle Jonnel,” Sansa replied. 

Rowlf frowned. “That is all that you came in to ask me, dearest niece?”

”You say that as if it is a bad thing, my dearest Uncle Rol,” Sansa mused with a slight smile. “Is capturing Jonnel not of the highest importance? So long ad he remains free to wander around, my claim is not fully safe.” 

Rowlf sighed. “You are not wrong, dear niece of mine. So long as Jonnel remains free, we have on our hands a situation similar to that of Jeyne Arryn and her cousins who rebelled against her rule several times,” 

Sansa nodded grimly at that. “I have hope that I will not have to constantly keep an eye out for my uncles and cousins in case they decide to betray and usurp me for their own simple greed to claim my birthright,” 

“I hope so as well Sansa,” Rowlf looked at his mother’s tapestry that featured five wolf pups playing in a snow filled wood with a heart tree behind them and with a river in front of them. 

His mother had made this tapestry not that long after the birth of little Elmo (who died as a child and was named after her own father). 

The wolf pups represented Rickon (the oldest and the biggest of the pups), Rowlf himself and Bejen, Sarah, and sweet little Elmo (the smallest of the wolf pups). 

Obviously, this tapestry had been done some time before the births of the twins Alaric and Celia, the last children that Rowlf’s parents would have.