The Remnant of the Pack - Book 1 - GoT

In all but name

With each passing day, Ylina could feel herself growing more and more anxious. Of course it had only been a few days since Ser Rodrik left, but still, she couldn't stop herself from worrying. Especially not when Bran and Rickon constantly asked her about their loyal master-at-arms and she couldn't give them a proper answer.

There had been no word from Torrent's Square, which could mean one of two things: either the battle was so thick not one of Ser Rodrik's men could spare a few moments to write their lady a letter or Ser Rodrik and the 150 men he took with him had lost the battle the moment they got to it. Neither of those looked too promising to the Starks and Ylina knew it. That was why she made a point of showing Osha all the hidden pathways they had under the castle for the lords and ladies of Winterfell to run if they ever needed to. Meanwhile, she also made sure to talk to the 250 men she still had in her guard. She made sure to spend almost a whole day discussing strengths, weaknesses and battle plans if Winterfell ever happened to be attacked. Because, as much as she worried about her brothers' and son's safety, Ylina knew an attack to Winterfell meant much more than simply losing her home.

If Ser Rodrik was right and the attackers were sworn to the Lannisters, she knew she was in a bad position. Should Ser Rodrik lose his battle, Winterfell was the next step and, with 250 men, no matter how good they were, Ylina knew she wouldn't be able to hold the castle much longer. Even from Southerners. And should she lose her hold on the castle, it would be a blow to Robb's image. She knew it. She knew that if her castle was taken from her, it would make Robb look bad in the eyes of many of his men, since about half of them didn't even like the idea of Ylina being their lady to begin with.

Ylina knew it. She had too much at stake, but, unlike her brother, she didn't even stand a chance. So she did the only thing she knew she could do at that point: pray.

Going to Godswood seemed almost foreign to her now. Ylina wasn't sure when it was the last time she did it. She couldn't remember the last time she stained her dress, kneeling in front of the big tree in the middle of the woods and whispered the words under her breath. Maybe it was that day, after her fight with her Mother after Bran was pushed from the tower. Maybe it was the day after Robb and Theon left to war. Maybe it was the day the news of her Father's murder got to her. She wasn't sure, but in any case, she was glad she still remembered the words. She was glad she still knew how to plead for the gods so they would be kind to her brother, so they would be kind to Ser Rodrik, so they would be kind to her, so they would allow Winterfell to come out unscratched from this war.

Apparently, Ylina was saying her words wrong, however, because not a second after she got back up to her feet and shook the dust from the skirts of her dress, one of the messenger boys of the castle approached her carefully.

"A letter from Deepwood Motte, my lady." He said, handing her the paper.

With a frown, Ylina looked at the gloved fist stamp that represented the Glovers. Pulling it open, her eyes scanned the letters rapidly, before she let out a frustrated groan.

"Find me Maester Luwin and send him to my study. Now!" She demanded, as the messenger bowed at her and watched as she passed by him with certainty in her steps.

"My lady." He mumbled before quickly running off to obey the young woman.

Ylina's thoughts were flying at a fast pace through her mind. Now, Deepwood Motte was a way more strategic place to attack. The Glovers were a very powerful and ancient house in the North, but they were proud people, always ready to prove their strength, which made them reckless. Ylina was sure Lord Robett Glover had sent all of his sons to war with Robb and, at least two thirds of his army and if she knew it, so did the Lannisters. So if they were attacking Torrent's Square now, why not attack the greater House with, more likely than not, the least amount of armed men?