Ylliria's lost Throne
This story is based on the HBO TV Series 'Game of Thrones' (my new passion! LOL!) and mainly focused on the Stark House.
Even if I took my primal inspiration from the events and scenes from the Season 1 and 2's episodes, the main story is totally fictional to blend in my main character: The young Lady Ylliria Bennett.
I am an eternal softie, so it is more romantic oriented than adventurous or epic (Just for you to know where you'll put your feet in!)
A last note: English is not my mother tong and I'm only writing for fun, relaxation after a long day and to improve my language knowledge. So, if you see grammatical mistakes and some strange phrasing, please let me know. I won't go all upset about it, the contrary.
Hope you'll enjoy it.
Take care.
Chapter 1: Another ordinary day in Winterfell
A brown-haired ten year old boy is bending his bow, concentrating at the straw-made target 50 feet away. He shoots the arrow, but totally misses it, the tip landing in one of the barrels staked in the back.
"Huh…" He heavily sighs.
"Go on… Try again..." His older brother orders, standing next to him.
The boy takes another arrow, adjusts it on the bow, aims and shoots. This time, the tip narrowly touches the target, making the two other young men assisting at the practice giggle.
"Enough, you... I asked for support, not to mock him..." The elder tells them. "It was better, Bran… But, you are still aiming to high..." He continues in a gently tone.
At the balcony, above the courtyard, his parents and a fine young woman are following his progress. Bran lifts his head towards them, a shy smile on his face. Lord Stark, his father, winks to encourage him to make another attempt. This time the tip sticks at the edge of the circle.
"That will be enough for today… Bran, go clean up and see Belinda in the kitchen… She will fix you dinner. " Lady Stark intervenes.
The boy hands the bow back to his older brother. "Will you still train me, Robb?"
"Of course, kid… We'll do our next practice in a day or two…" Robb says, ruffling his mid-long hair.
.
"In a few years, that boy will be the best archer in Winterfell…" Eddard Stark proudly stands, offering an arm to his wife and walking her back inside.
Still on the balcony, Lady Ylliria Bennett is giving a last glimpse down at the group of three young gentlemen discussing and laughing in the courtyard. Jon Snow, a well-built black-haired gent, is sticking the arrows he collected around in a sand box. He unexpectedly looks up and softly smiles at her. She returns his smile, slightly blushing before following the Stark couple.
.
In the kitchen, Bran rejoins his little brother Rickon and his two sisters Sansa and Arya around the table. Belinda, the kitchen-maid, brings him a steaming bowl of fresh made stag stew. He grabs the round loaf and rips a large piece of bread to accompany his meal.
"So, my dear brother… How much arrows did you miss today?... Or let it make easier for you, how much did actually hit the target?…" Arya chuckles.
"Arya, why are you always so mean to everybody?..." Sansa exclaims.
"I am not mean…"
"Yes, you are…"
"Am not!..." The youngest protests.
"Hush now girls and eat up your dinner!…" Ylliria intervenes, entering the room. "And how was your embroidery lesson this morning, huh?... How many times did you prick your finger, little dragon?..."
"That is not funny..." Arya complains.
"And you think your brother liked what you just said to him?..." Ylliria lightly reprimands her.
"I'm sorry, Bran... I did not mean to offend you..." The little girl softly apologizes.
"It's all right, Arya... I know I'm no good at archery..." Bran pouts.
"Don't say that... Just keep practicing... And to tell you a secret, I remember Robb and Jon at your age... Oh, by all the Gods... They were hopeless!..." Ylliria sits down amongst them, finally making the young boy smile.
"Ylliria?... Will you read me a story tonight at my bedtime?..." Rickon asks her with his high-pitched little voice.
"If you finish your plate and you'd be very kind to Maester Luwin this afternoon… Yes…" She gently smiles at him. "Belinda, pour me a cup of wine cut with water, please?"
"Yes, Milady…" The kitchen-maid makes a little curtsey at the request.
"You did very well today, Bran… And you want to know something else?... I overheard you father saying to your mother that he thinks that one day you will be the best archer in the county…" Ylliria comments, gracefully sipping on her cup.
The young boy just shrugs and starts to eat his meal.
.
After having helped the four younger Stark's children with their dinner, Ylliria finally rejoins the rest of the family in the main room to have her own lunch.
"Are they all at their duties?" Lady Starks asks her.
"Yes, My Lady… I gave permission to Sansa to work a little more on her new gown…" The young woman explains, sitting between Jon and Theon, Lord Starks' red-haired squire. Immediately a maid brings her a plate with a small piece of pheasant, some vegetables and potatoes. Robb is pouring some red wine in her wooden cup. "Oh, not too much... Thank you, Robb..." She gently smiles at him.
All of a sudden, Winterfell's Master-at-Arms bursts into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, My Lord… But a Guard arrived from the hills with an urgent message…"
"It's all right, Rodrik…" Eddard says, making a gesture with his hand giving the man permission to speak.
"They have captured a deserter from the Night's Watch…"
Lord Stark sighs. "Theon, saddle our horses…" He orders his squire. "Ylliria, go fetch Bran…"
"Ned, he does not need to see this... He is only 10…" Lady Stark protests.
"He won't be a boy forever, Catelyn... And winter is coming..." He stands up, followed by Robb and Jon.
.
In the courtyard, Theon holds the rains of five horses, waiting for Lord Stark, Robb, Bran and Jon to mount them. Accompany with a few of Winterfell's Castle guards, the little troupe sets in motion.
"Why do we have to go now?... And what are you going to do with that man?..." Bran asks his father.
"The Night's Watch men swore an oath, Bran… Deserting is punishable by death… It's the Lord's responsibility to execute the sentence as soon as pronounced… And also that should swing the sword in the name of the Seven Gods..." Eddard explains, ordering his horse to move forward with a light heels' tap.
.
They all arrive at the Sacred Stone Circle at the same time than the Hill Guards, surrounding the prisoner.
Lord Stark faces the trembling young man, waiting for him to justify his act.
"I saw the White Walkers..." The deserter repeats several times. He lifts his head to look at Eddard. "I saw them… I swear to you, My Lord… They killed my two brothers… In front of my own eyes…" He stutters.
"I'm sorry, lad… But, you broke the oath…"
"I know I broke my oath... And I deserve to die... It's the law... I just implore My Lord to believe what I saw... And tell my family I died with honor and dignity..."
Lord Stark nods. When the young man places his head on the block, Ned removes the giant sword from its scabbard that Theon hands him and start to recite the Westeros Law. "I, Eddard, of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Governor of the North sentence you to die by beheading..."
Standing a little on the side, Lord Stark's sons are watching the scene in complete silence.
"Don't look away... Father would see it..." Jon whispers to Bran.
The condemned babbles a quick last prayer to the Gods and closes his eyes. Lord Stark raises the heavy sword and in just one swift movement, the lad's head rolls away from his body.
"You did well…" Robb tells his little brother, still standing completely stiff from what he just witnessed. He puts a gentle hand on the kid's shoulder, to comfort him and both walk back to their horses.
Lord Stark approaches his younger son, staring at him. "He said he saw the White Walkers…" Bran shyly voices.
"White-walkers have been gone for thousands of years... But, the mad man sees what he sees… We can't blame him of lying..." His father answers. "Bran, you understand why I had to punish him, do you?" He continues.
"Yes, father... He was a deserter... And it's the Law..." He quietly says, mounting his horse.
"I am proud of you, Son..." Lord Starks, gently patting his leg.
.
On their way back to the castle, through the surrounding woods, they come across a carcass of a full-grown stag. Its belly's open from the fore to the hind legs, its guts hanging on the outside.
"What could have done such a thing?... Mountain lions?..." Theon asks, going near it.
"There are none in these woods..." Lord Stark replies.
Jon hears some ruffling noises coming from down below, near the river. He tears down the slope and discovers the dead body of a Direwolf, with five cubs between its legs, still alive. He calls for the others when he sees that a piece of an antlers was planted in the animal. "A second victim..." He says.
"There are no Direwolves south of the Wall..." Robb points out.
Lord Stark stays thoughtful, looking at the cadaver.
"What are we gonna do with the little ones?... May I have one?..." Bran asks.
"I'm sorry, Son…" Lord Stark gently pets his son's shoulder, making a subtle gesture to his squire to order him to get rid of them.
"My Lord?..." Jon intervenes. "The Direwolf is the emblem of your House… There are five pups and you have five children… It's meant to be…"
"Please, father..." Bran pleads.
"All right… But, you will feed them… You will train them… And if they don't survive, you will bury them… Understood?"
His young son nods, happy that he may choose the first one. "What about you?" He asks Jon.
"I'm not really a Stark..." The young man bluntly answers. But, when he climbs back up, he sees another pup, hiding behind a tree. Despite its shaggy figure, he decides to adopt him.
"Oh, now we miss one for Ylliria..." Bran points out.
"Maybe she does not want one..." Theon smirks.
"And if she does?..." Bran sharply answers.
"I'll share Ghost with her..." Jon says.
"You will call yours Ghost?..."
"Does he not look like one?... With his white fur and his red eyes..." Jon grabs the skinny animal by the collar, lifting him in the air.
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