(Notes: This is a multi chapter work in progress in the Game of Thrones/ASOIF fandom. Only GRRM owns the canon.
This is more of a romance than an adventure and has been written in a 'bodice-ripper/romance novel" style.)
Beric's men were hungry. Even Beric himself was hungry, and that hardly happened at all any more. Their last meal had been-when? two days ago?- and to call it a meal was being generous. It had consisted of a skinny hare and a snake, divided among five men.
Besides Thoros and himself, only Anguy remained from the original band of Brothers who had set off many years ago. Two had recently joined them, Lou the Pig (so named not because he was fat- he wasn't- but for his unfortunate laugh which sounded like a cross between a snort and a wheeze), and Manfred. Neither man impressed him much. He doubted their devotion to the cause and suspected they were only interested in adventure. Unless they considered starvation an adventure, he predicted they would disappear one night without a word.
"Beric," said Thoros. "Look at that copse of trees down the hill. Is that a roof I spy?" Beric squinted his eyes. It took a few seconds before he noticed the roof among the trees.
"Aye. I think it is. Perhaps they would be so kind as to share some food with us. Come." The five men headed down the hill towards the stand of trees.
"I don't see shit," scoffed Manfred. "A waste of time."
"Shut up," muttered Thoros. He was sick to death of Manfred's attitude, as well as his laziness. Lou the Pig was no better, really. His sycophantic devotion to Manfred, laughing that awful laugh of his every time the sod said something rude or scathing, was embarrassing to behold.
After walking half a mile Anguy exclaimed, "I see it, Lord Beric! I can make out the chimney." The cottage was certainly well camouflaged, nestled in the clump of trees. As they approached they could see the house was in disrepair. It looked as though it had been damaged by fire. One side was charred and crumbling. That part of the roof had collapsed. Beric paused and appraised the situation.
"It doesn't look like anyone has lived here in some time," he said, "and no doubt nothing of value remains. But it might be a good place to rest for the night." Indeed, the sun was about to set, and the September breeze was getting chilly. "Let's see what's inside."
Sylvie had been dozing in the chair all afternoon. She didn't do much more than sleep and eat these days, and it looked like she would soon run out of food. Fortunately, she didn't have much appetite anyway.
After hearing her family being slaughtered three weeks hence, the thought of food made her ill. She had hidden in the cabinet by the stove and listened while the invaders had broken her father's neck, stabbed her mother, and raped her older sister for what seemed like hours before stabbing her, too. Sylvie couldn't get the sounds of her sister begging for her life out of her head. She was certain the men, three by the sound of them, would hear her chattering teeth from the cabinet and do the same to her. But they hadn't.
After satisfying themselves and grabbing anything of value they could find, they hurried off. Sylvie remained in the cramped space for as long as she could stand it, afraid to see the bodies of her family and convinced the men would return. When she felt as though she could no longer breathe, she crawled out of the cabinet to face the most horrifying sight she had ever seen. The bile rose in her throat, and the spasms racked her body as she vomited until she nearly choked. Then the tears finally fell, the ones she had to suppress while hiding.
Crawling towards her father, she curled up in a ball at his side, eventually falling into a restless slumber. When she awoke later in the night, she knew she had to flee the house. There would be no one to help her bury her family. Most of the village had been burned down by soldiers four months ago.
With a presence of mind she didn't know she had, she quietly packed a sack with what little food remained and a change of clothes. Then she fled south, away from the village, not knowing where she was going. Not caring, either. She just knew she had to leave.
Not long after dawn she had found an abandoned cottage, half burned down. She almost didn't see it, hidden as it was behind the trees. She stumbled in, curled up in the main room, and cried until she fell asleep. Sylvie decided this was as good a place as she would likely find and, lacking the will to seek elsewhere, she resigned herself to staying, and dying alone.
The days passed in a blur. She prayed to the gods for death to take her, so she could be reunited with her family and escape whatever horrible fate she knew must await her. And on this evening, awakening from her doze, she heard male voices outside the door and resigned herself to the fate she feared.