The coldest night of the longest summer

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"And that's it for tonight." Ylina finished the story, looking down at Rickon as the boy fought to keep his eyes open.

"No..." He whined, as the girl giggled and moved Rickon so that he was laying against his pillows instead of resting against her body. "But you haven't finished the story yet."

"You can't barely keep your eyes open, love." She said, carefully getting up from her brother's bed and walking around his bed to make sure he was covered properly so he could be warm all through that night of heavy snow. "Go to sleep yes? We can finish the story tomorrow."

"But Lina..."

"Good night, Rickon." She rolled her eyes before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her little brother's forehead. "We will talk in the morning, yes?"

"But..." He was about to protest, but when his sister stopped and turned to him with a playful glare, his sigh turned into a yawn. "Fine. Good night, Lina. I love you."

"I love you too, little wild wolf." She winked, before blowing off the candle of Rickon's room and picking up her own to walk off.

Closing the door of his room after her, Ylina walked up to the next door, standing by it as she watched Bran and Maester Luwin talking. When the young boy, laying in his bed, noticed his sister, he smiled at her as the girl did the same. Knowing Ylina always put her brothers to bed every night and used that moment to strengthen her bond with them, the Maester said his goodnights to Bran and Ylina as he walked out of the room. She barely had the time to properly sit beside Bran on his bed before he used the handle above his head to sit up against his pillows.

"Osha never says anything to me when I tell her about my dreams." Bran said, clearly upset.

Ylina laughed when he pouted. Suddenly, she was taken a few years before when, after being beat by Arya in a sword fight, seven-year-old Bran came running to her, complaining about how Jon, Theon and Robb kept mocking him for it. Even Rickon, she remembered him crying, and he doesn't even understand what he is laughing about! Ylina remembered how Bran kept whining in her arms until she decided she had had enough and went down to the training grounds to "teach the boys a lesson".

It had been almost four years ago, but, now, as Ylina sat in front of Bran and he gave her his sad eyes and pouty lips, she could swear they were back at that day again. Only, they weren't. And Bran wasn't upset over his annoying older brothers teasing him over losing a sword fight to Arya — which, honestly, wasn't at all that surprising since Arya was an incredible fighter for a nine-year-old girl. No, this time, he was upset over himself and all the things happening to him that he couldn't explain. And, to be fair, neither could Ylina.

"I know she doesn't, love. I told her not to." The girl finally answered, gently maneuvering Bran so that he would lay down in his bed again.

"Why?" He asked, allowing his sister to help him get comfortable and warm under his blankets.

"Because I don't want to share with you false information." She answered simply. "As soon as I have something about the raven or your dreams about Summer, I promise I will tell you, alright?"

"But you have something." Bran insisted. "I see you and Osha talking all the time."

"Right now, all I have is a few ancient Valyrian stories and a handful of wildling ones."

"Then tell me."

"Not now, Bran." She sighed, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead as she had done to Rickon. "It's late, it's cold, I'm tired and in pain. I'll be heading to bed now and you should try and get some sleep as well. It's almost past your bedtime already."

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