Elena Hill - 16, portrayed by Gabriella Wilde.
Niklas Baratheon - 16, portrayed by Patrick Gibson.
Everyone else as themselves.
Chapter 1
Elena
The waves of wind shifted in a bellowing breeze. A young woman laid on her side next to the fireplace with her hand laying flat against the small leatherbound book just inches away from her delicate face. Her golden-spun hair sprawled itself against the cobbled floor, not caring of the soot tattering her dress, her cheeks, or her hair. It wasn't her fault, though, she was simply enjoying the book that her uncle gave her a few days ago.
Her eyes squinted when the sun's rays slowly crept to her, advising her to wake up. The thick lashes fluttered open to show the chorus of soft green threads in her iris. She sighed and slowly stood from her spot as she headed over to a small basin in the corner of her room. Her hands dipped inside and cupped themselves to wash any unwanted soot or dirt away from her face. She certainly did not want anyone to know that she slept on the floor when she had a perfectly warm bed anxiously waiting for her to sleep in.
Elena grabbed the dress she was wearing and rolled her eyes, seeing the state it was in. Elena was a handmaiden to the queen herself, her aunt. She knew if she went out with the clothes on her back, she would be ridiculed for her appearance, so she had to change. Her fingers unclasped the belt holding the dress together before she undid the thread and ribbons in a rush. Letting it fall to the floor, Elena picked it up and casted it aside on a nearby chair, leaving her in her slip. She hurried over to the chifferobe and opened the doors to pull out the first dress she saw. A lemon-green dress with gold and beads to hold the back of the draping in place with embellishments of leaves plunging down her neckline and a belt with a metal clasp tightened around her waist just below where her breasts were.
She then went over to the mirror and grabbed some pins by braiding the two front sections together before twisting them together using the ends with a narrow braid wrapped around it. It almost looked like a crown that stretched across her head. Finally, she used the back of her hair to form a long, narrow braid before she twisted it into a bun. Only a few strands were out of place but that was simply because she was in a rush. Elena was just thankful that the pins held everything in place.
Slipping into a pair of sandals, she grabbed the book and headed out into the hallway before shutting the door. Elena then proceeded down the hall, passing by a few guards and a handmaiden to reach her destination. She made her presence known by opening the door, alerting her uncle Tyrion and his squire. Her uncle sat at his desk with a quill set aside on a blank page from a book on his desk, while his squire stopped pouring the finest arbor red in his goblet.
Her uncle was known to be a drinker, but he was also incredibly wise despite his height. Many noble lords mocked him behind his back for being a dwarf. It always angered Elena hearing them since she loved her uncle dearly like a doting daughter ever since he claimed her to be his ward. Even though her uncle told her stories about her father when she was little in Casterly Rock, she always viewed her uncle as her real father rather than the Kingslayer since he never bothered to give her the time of the day ever since she was sent to King's Landing to serve Her Grace. To this day, all of the nobles refer to her as the Kingslayer's bastard, a constant reminder of her illegitimacy, a disgrace to the Lannisters.
Lowering his goblet on his desk, Elena watched her uncle grab his quill before he glided it swiftly across the paper, probably writing a letter to a woman he had been with the night before, while she made her way to sit across from him with the book in her lap.
Her uncle's squire approached her with a pitcher and a goblet, but she refused by smiling sweetly at him with her doe eyes. "No, thank you, Podrick."
Her sweet voice rang through his ears as he stopped and gave her a hurried bow, almost refusing to make eye contact before he went back to the shelf to put them away. Elena always found the boy to be entertaining by observing how polite and modest he was towards his noble lord and to the guests no matter what insults they gave him, but Elena could never bring herself to do it. It was different with her uncle simply because it was in his nature to mock someone, but she knew that her uncle never meant anything rude by it when it came to his loyal squire and to some members of his family, especially his nieces and his youngest nephew.
Elena did somewhat enjoy seeing her uncle's squire face flush whenever she smiled at him as he stared at her for a moment whenever she answered him. It was a better reaction than what she normally gets from men. Their terrible breaths making slide remarks about her body to other men like how women gossiped in King's Landing or their wandering eyes shaping her form by scouring every inch of her body ever since she came to the capital at the age of twelve. She will never forget when her uncle threw a guard in the Black Cells for cornering her in the gardens just to have a taste of her. She was a slice of cake just waiting to be eaten.
"You're late to rise. I trust you slept well then."
"Very. With the book you gave to keep me company."
As she placed it on the desk, her lips curled into an elegant smile as she heard him say, "Ah, The Dance of Dragons. The civil war between Aegon II and Rhaenyra over their father's throne."
"It is a shame really how it tore their family apart."
"Greed is nothing more than a negative impulse that masquerades a virtue, my dear."
Elena looked down at her lap for a moment, thinking to herself, before she brought up, "So Niklas will be king?"
"With Robert Baratheon's death, the crown will go to his eldest son, so, yes…Niklas will be king."
It had only been yesterday since King Robert Baratheon's death, and no one seemed to know how. Through his lecherous behavior of being with two other women, he doused himself with the finest wine money could buy. It wasn't until he groaned in pain and fell on the bed with the women screaming for help. Maester Pycelle believed that the king's heart gave out. Even though many members in the small council raised some concerns, no one spoke of it, not even Elena's uncle, or at least, she'd never heard her uncle discuss the matter. If he did, he probably did not want his ward to question it. After all, King's Landing was a nest of vipers. One bite was all it took to root out all the ones who would dare oppose the new regime.
"Now go serve the Queen. I wouldn't want my own ward to be in any sort of trouble, especially during the prince's coronation day."
"Well, we wouldn't want that, do we?"
"No, we don't."
They both smirked at each other as Elena stood from her seat and gave her uncle a curtsy before leaving the room, not noticing how her uncle's squire glanced at her with his lips slightly parting from each other until she overheard her uncle.
"Podrick."
"Yes, milord."
"You're staring again."
"Sorry, milord."
Elena couldn't help but plaster a sheepish grin on her face, imagining the boy's reaction and getting scolded at by her uncle.
Niklas
The Great Hall was a room where any monarch would dream to have as the eldest prince strided through the large bronze and wooden doors. His boots clicked against the marble floor as he passed by each column and arch on the towering vaulted ceiling. His blonde hair shone in every hue from a white sun to golden browns, all married into curled locks through the stained glass on the left side of The Red Keep, while his subjects made their way for their new king as they were there to witness his coronation ceremony.
Something ignited in his green eyes when he drew himself closer to the Septon by the Iron Throne. They spoke loudly, anxiously anticipating the greatest moment in his life, but there were also flecks of strength. It was the kind that came from a newborn light when he set his sights on the throne. The Spider once told him how it was a monstrosity of spikes, twisted metal, and jagged edges of the broken blades surrendered by Aegon the Conqueror's enemies, but to Niklas, it was something much greater. It was Niklas's beacon of sovereignty.
When he reached the steps that ascended its way to the throne, he faced his subjects with the Septon behind him as he watched them all either with smiles on their faces or blank expressions. His mother smiled proudly at her boy along with his youngest brother and sister. However, he couldn't help but notice how his other brother, Joffrey, stared lowly at him like an ant quarreling with a boot. Niklas was not surprised. His brother had always been jealous of him simply because he was destined for greatness.
"May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Niklas of the House Baratheon First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!"
As the Septon carefully placed the crown on Niklas's head, he could not help but feel how heavy it was, but then again, it was the late king's crown. It was large and robust, completely made out of gold that incorporated amber gemstones and very prominent stag-based imagery, appearing to almost have been made out of antlers.
When Niklas ascended the steep iron steps to the throne, he slowly sat in his rightful place, gazing at his subjects. Lord Varys, Lord Baelish, Lord Arryn, and Maester Pycelle gave their new king a brief bow and addressed him as "Your Grace". He nodded his head in acknowledgment and stared down at the people below him, ready to rule them all.
Here is the first chapter. I love GOT, and I thought I would write my own ending by changing stuff around. This will start at season 1 and continue to season 8. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think in the comment section.