Eliana Stark - Game of Thrones POVs

Chapter 6 Eliana

A quick swift sound, she heard, as the mahogany arrow flew over the beautifully selvedged flak and vanished in the dense woods. A roar of laughters arose from her older brothers, as the younger boy put down the rosewood bow onto the ground and smiled sheepishly. Hypocrites, she thought and chuckled, neither of them were able to even handle a bow at Bran's age.

Eli has always enjoyed, with her baby brother, Rickon, nestling in her arms, watching the boys combating and practicing archery. Well, maybe except the time with the obnoxious prince around trying to picking a fight. He was no match to Robb anyways. "They would make great soldiers someday," praised the black smith. Why would they become those tiny fighters while they could be kings, right hand commanders and warriors? She scolded but smiled stupidly at the last thought. Definitely warriors, courageous and chivalrous warriors. They fought for the truth and brought justice to all, but soldiers were wallflowers in those graceful songs, only exquisite to the ears.

Eli has dreamt of being a warrior. She has dreamt of riding a gorgeous war horse onto the Battlefield, with her father's blazing sword and in her silver green armor. "A high-born lady should never be seen wearing an armor," rebuked her lady mother. "Only gowns were allowed." However,her lord father would compromise with her. "You will be," he chuckled and said, "a warrior of wilderness, just like your Aunt Lyanna." Eli loved hearing about her mysterious aunt. Lyanna was wild and ambitious, her father told her. She was talented with combat skills and fought bravely during the Rebellion of the Baratheons. Unfortunately, she was an ill-fated beauty and deceased at the age of sixteen. "I see," Eli replied playfully, "three years to go and I will be buried under the old dull grave." But only recieved an unapproving grief glance of her father.

She has always been compared to her aunt. The folks said she looked like Lyanna a lot, with the dark shades of flowy hair and piercing starry eyes. She had some her mother's traits as well, with the high cheekbones and oval-shaped face. With the mixed traits, Eliana was occasionally not recognized as a Stark child. For that, some of the butcher's boys would make fun of her. "If you are not in that pretty gown, you are just one of us low-borns," they teased. She knew she wished to have a darling Tully face like her younger sister, Sansa, but deep down she desired more to be like Lyanna, a wondrous warrior, or Nymeria, the legendary Queen of Rhoynar (to whom she also named her direwolf after). A ruler would be nice, but she had no inheritance to the iron throne nor her homeland Winterfell, which had been ruled under the ancestor Starks of her father for thousands of years. Maester Luwin once told her about Varys the Enuch spider, who had been taken into King Robert's small council. "Low-born men could only survive by skills and wisdom," he sighed.

"But I have none of those," Eli looked down to her hands anxiously.

"Nonsense, child! You are Eliana Stark of Winterfell, the daughter of Eddard Stark and Winterfell. You are no low-born nor men. The northern wolf you are!" Maester Luwin looked into her eyes and argued, "soon you will marry to a High Lord and be protected by his almighty banners and sigils. Even if the winter comes you will survive. Even if the winter comes!"

"I'm not gentle nor charming," Eli replied thoughtfully, "if the High Lord were only forced to the bonding and did not love me, he would leave me in the warfares and end up in the Acorn Hall with whores and prostitutes."

"Child, do not say such things," Maester Luwin buried his head in his hands and said, "I am not getting any younger, you see. The old chilly winter had me suffer," he looked up to the grey cloudy skies and continued, "winter is coming and no one is safe." He paused as a brown-feathered raven soared across the Castles carrying a small scroll of letter.

"Do you think I am capible of surviving on my own?" Eli asked suddenly. Maester Luwin looked down to her and smiled, "nobody could survive on their own, only each others."

Eli sighed heavily and he continued, "Child, I see loads of potentials. You may not see this, but you are outstanding among all I have ever met." She looked up in surprise, this was the first time that she felt somebody outside the family actually paid attention to her. She had everything girls did not want, an ordinary look and a political status, the first-borned daughter, who had to carry the most amount of burden in a family. Marriage, Heir and Duty. "The eldest daughter has the Blessings," Septa Mordane had told her. Blessings, she had snorted sarcastically, blessings my butt. The memories dissipated immediatly as part of her started telling herself that Luwin was lying.

"There is nothing special in me. Well maybe, Jeyne Poole called me bizarre once." she smiled sadly.

"Dare she could say such things to you," Maester Luwin reprimanded and corrected her, "You are strong and wise. Yes, too smart for your own good. You will be a sneaky spy like the Spider!" They both laughed out loud at the thought of the bold council member of the king. His laughters were dolce and euphonious, though his hair was as white as the snow on the roof.

"Always stick to your family, Eliana," he advised her.

Eli thought of her family all the time, even though they were always beside her. She thought of her father's dark grey hair and kind words. She loved listening to him talking about the Rebellion of the Baratheons and the Greyjoys, about the metaphor of winter, about the white walkers, about the kingslayer, about the deceased mad king and his dragons. Top of all, she loved Ned telling her story of Aunt Lyanna as she loved Master Ludwin telling the story of Queen Nymeria. And her lady mother, her beautiful lady mother. She thought of her auburn hair and vivid blue eyes, the most common Tully features. Her mother always came to her chamber to let Eli braid her hair and choose the finest fabric for her dresses and gowns. And there were Robb, who had won every battle he had fought. Sometimes, he would take out his time to teach her about the tricks of warfares. He was brave and patience but reckless and quick-mouthed. on was her half brother, but she loved him as much as she loved Robb, sometimes even more. He always mussed her hair and called her his little sister. And Sansa, sweet and naive, beautiful and gentle. Eli favored her. She taught her every high-born ladies'courtsey and sang her every song she loved. They were tight and close. Last but not least, Bran and Rickon, her little warriors. She would kiss their cheeks and let them show her their new muscles. They brought her hope, and they were as wild as their wolves.

Eli was afraid of losing them. She was so afraid that sometimes she would cry to sleep at the thought of it. They would never leave me, she thought, I would protect them and keep them safe.

Later on, Maester Luwin taught her more about the politics of the kingdom of Westero and the last Targaryen children, as her hand maiden, Wylla Manderly, called her to get ready to the feast with the royal family.

The feast for King Robert's arrival was short and brief. He greeted them with warmth, as the Lannisters welcomed them with disdain and distaste. The King was not as handsome and fierce as her father had described. He was only a fat, red-faced man under his bushy beard, but Eliana has always admired him. He had told her how she resembled to her aunt. She only smiled back and complimented him on his bravery. "Ha! You have a mouth of wit," the King replied, "and a pretty one, too." She was confused and hoped the last remark was for her sister, Sansa.

She also greeted the Queen Cersie, who was wearing a golden silk dress, though not as radiant as her golden hair, and a fox-fur coat. And her twin brother, Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, whose hair was as smooth as the waterfall. She wondered how he could consider himself a knight if he killed the king that he had served. She tried to resist her laughters when she saw Sansa blushing as the "Knight" kissed her hand. She had enjoyed Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen's companies much more than their brother, Joffery, who had the disdainful look as his mother. He had the golden hair and light green eyes. He looked like a girl, Eli thought. The older prince was quite hostile to her brother, Robb, but only put on his best smile when she and Sansa approached. What a hypocrite. Among the excited crowd, she spotted the Hound, who was wearing a sliver helmet. She had heard about his legendary scar that his brother had left him. Fire was his weakness, they had told her. She was quite disappointed that she didn't get a chance to meet the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, the youngest Lannister and the dwarf. She had heard much about him and his wise remarks.

At the end of the feast, her father told her about a marriage proposal between Sansa and Joffery hinted by the King himself. Apparently, he demanded a house alliance between the Starks and the Baratheons. "Why Sansa?" she asked. "That was what the King wanted," she could hear the graveness in his voice, "we must obey, Eliana. The family will leave for King's Landing soon." She couldn't help but felt relief and sorry for her sister, Sansa, who seemed rather cheerful.

"The sweet and valiant prince," Sansa said and took the leash off her direwolf, Lady, "he told me I was very beautiful the other day. I will gave him sons just as valiant as he is. What do you think, my good sister?"

"I'm sure he will make be a good king like his father and you will be a glorious Queen someday." Eli replied without thinking. "But I do not want to leave Winterfell," she said sadly and looked down to her hands. She wanted to be in the North with Luwin, Hodor, Wylla, Rodrick and more.

"But don't you want to see those beautiful candles lighting in the dark, and the latterns?" Sansa asked surprisingly, "They would be like those in the songs we sing." Eli did. She wanted to see the Iron Throne more the anything, but family always came first just like her father used to tell her. She didn't like the Queen or the Prince. She knew inside the deceitful masks were spirits of dark thirsted for power. She bit her lip and watched Nymeria and Lady chasing each other. Winter was truly coming, she thought. And the next morning, she was told that Bran had fell of the high tower and still remained unconcious.

She watched her mother and sister wept beside Bran's bed. Bran was pale and deadly. His lips were as white as his cheeks. There was no colour in his blood. Eliana had wept too, but in the Godswood praying and crying out for grace and mercy on his brother.

There were no trouble like this before the Lannisters came, she thought gravely. He fell of the tower, a likely story. Bran has always been a good climber. He had never stumbled on one rock since he had been able to walk. He had never failed. She watched maliciously outside the windows as Joffery tried to pick a fight with Robb.

Now she was in her chamber, packing up her dresses and gowns with the help of her direwolf. "Thank you, Nymeria," she nodded curtly as she received her gloves. Her wolf looked up to her with her big yellow eys and tilted her head in an adorable way, trying to make her smile. Eli ruffled her furs and kissed her little button-shaped nose, as somebody knocked on her door.

She opened and found Jon standing there, hands behind his back and giving her a wide smile. "Little sis," he greeted her.

She smiled back and said, "we'll be leaving in few days, only with Sansa and father since Bran's incident."

"Don't worry," Jon comforted, "You will have Nymeria with you."

She looked up and stared into his dark grey eyes, "but I will miss you."

Jon signed and answered as he sat onto the bed beside her, "Father appointed me to Night Watch, secure the North. Do not worry about me. I will make sure the White Walkers do not reach the King's landing." He joked.

Eli chuckled a bit. "Here, I will show you something," he said.

"A present?"

"Yes, a present," he replied as he showed her what was inside the package on her bed.

A sword, she saw and gasped. It was small and slender, suitable to her slight build and to practice "the Water Dance" she learned about from Robb. A sword, was what she always wanted. One more step to be a warrior.

"It was beautiful," she said as she held the sword tight in her hand and tried several dances Robb had taught her. "it was skinny. I will name it the Needle," she said thoughtfully. She had always resented the arts of needlework. It was so dull and boring.

"Skinny, just like you," Jon told her and laughed, "it was made by the Mikkens. Such beauty,used it well. Try not to stab the Prince."

They both spent the rest of the day together, cooing over the Needle. She remembered Jon holding her in his arms and swing her around. She would miss him so bad in King's Landing. She realized since her brothers and her mother were staying in Winterfell, part of her heart would too. She looked down at the sword in her hand, and wondered who would be the first victim of this beauty. Maybe Joff, she thought and grinned viciously. She wish she knew how to use it.

"Stick them with the pointy end," Eli remembered Jon had told her, before they left Winterfell.