Chapter 7: Chapter 7
The royal procession wound its way through the gates of Winterfell like a glittering serpent, banners of gold and crimson fluttering in the cold Northern wind. From her perch in the ornate wheelhouse, Queen Cersei Lannister observed the dreary castle with thinly veiled disdain. The North, with its harsh landscapes and uncouth inhabitants, was a far cry from the opulence of King's Landing.
As the wheelhouse creaked to a halt, Cersei steeled herself for the tedious formalities that awaited. She had endured weeks of travel for this moment, and she was determined to play her part to perfection. But as she emerged from the wheelhouse, her emerald eyes scanning the assembled crowd, something unexpected caught her attention.
Among the sea of dour Northern faces and rough wool clothing stood a man who seemed entirely out of place. He was tall and powerfully built, with short brown hair and a well-groomed beard. But it was his attire that truly set him apart - a strange, form-fitting suit of green, adorned with gold stars. He stood with an easy confidence, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the royal party.
Cersei felt a jolt of... something. Curiosity? Attraction? She couldn't quite place it, but she found her gaze continually drawn to this mysterious stranger.
As the formal introductions began, Cersei half-listened to the names and titles, her attention focused on gleaning any information about the green-clad man. She noticed the way the Stark children kept glancing at him, a mix of awe and wariness in their eyes. Even Ned Stark, usually so stoic, seemed on edge when his gaze fell upon the stranger.
Finally, as Robert made his way down the line of Starks, he came face to face with the man in green.
"And who might you be?" Robert boomed, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "You're not dressed like any Northman I've ever seen."
The stranger's smirk widened into a full grin. "Name's Benjamin Gilman, Your Grace," he replied, his accent strange and unfamiliar to Cersei's ears. "I'm... not from around here."
Robert's eyebrows shot up at the casual tone. "Is that so? And where exactly are you from, Benjamin Gilman?"
"A place called America, Your Grace. Though I doubt you've heard of it."
Cersei tensed, waiting for Robert's infamous temper to flare at this show of disrespect. To her shock, the king threw back his head and laughed.
"By the Seven, Ned!" Robert exclaimed, clapping Lord Stark on the shoulder. "Where did you find this one? He's the first person I've met in years who doesn't smell like he's been shitting himself at the sight of me!"
As Robert continued to question Benjamin, his booming laughter echoing across the courtyard, Cersei found herself intrigued. This Benjamin Gilman was unlike anyone she had encountered before. His casual disregard for protocol, his strange manner of speech, even the way he carried himself - it all spoke of a man who answered to no one.
For a moment, Cersei allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to have such a man at her side. Someone who could match her in ambition and cunning, who wasn't cowed by titles or tradition. The thought sent a thrill through her, one that she quickly suppressed. She was a Lannister, a queen. Such foolish fantasies were beneath her.
And yet, as the formalities concluded and the royal party was led into the castle, Cersei found her eyes drawn once more to Benjamin Gilman. Whatever else he might be, he was certainly going to make this dreary Northern visit far more interesting than she had anticipated.
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Sansa Stark stood in line with her siblings, her heart racing with excitement as the royal procession entered Winterfell. For years, she had dreamed of this moment - of golden princes and gallant knights, of a life beyond the grey walls of the North. But as her eyes scanned the newcomers, she found her gaze repeatedly drawn not to Prince Joffrey, but to the man standing off to the side.
Benjamin Gilman cut a striking figure in his strange green suit. Sansa had never seen clothing like it before - it hugged his muscular frame in a way that made her cheeks flush. And the way he held himself, so confident and at ease even in the presence of royalty... it was captivating.
As King Robert made his way down the line, greeting each Stark in turn, Sansa found herself barely able to focus on the words being spoken. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Benjamin - his easy smile, the strength evident in every movement, the hints of a world beyond Westeros that he represented.
When the king finally reached Benjamin, Sansa held her breath. She had seen how her father tensed whenever Benjamin spoke, had heard the whispers of his irreverence and strange ways. Surely the king would put him in his place.
But to her amazement, King Robert seemed delighted by Benjamin's casual manner. The king's booming laughter filled the courtyard, and Sansa saw a glimmer of relief pass over her father's face.
As the formalities concluded and the crowd began to disperse, Sansa found herself lingering, hoping for a chance to catch Benjamin's eye. When he finally glanced in her direction, flashing that roguish grin of his, Sansa felt her heart skip a beat.
In that moment, all thoughts of Prince Joffrey faded from her mind. The golden prince, with his pouty lips and petulant manner, seemed a pale imitation of manhood compared to Benjamin Gilman. Sansa knew it was foolish - Benjamin was older, a stranger from a strange land. But she couldn't help the flutter in her chest when she thought of him.
As she followed her family into the castle, Sansa's mind raced with possibilities. Perhaps Benjamin would ask her to dance at the feast. Maybe he would tell her stories of his homeland, of the wonders and adventures he had seen. For the first time, Sansa found herself excited about the future not because of what it might bring, but because of who it might include.
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he Great Hall of Winterfell buzzed with activity as the feast to welcome the royal party got underway. At the high table, King Robert Baratheon sat in the place of honor, his massive frame dwarfing the chair beneath him. His eyes, bleary from too much wine, scanned the room restlessly until they landed on a familiar green-clad figure.
"Gilman!" Robert bellowed, his voice cutting through the din of the feast. "Get your arse up here! I want to see what you're made of!"
Benjamin, who had been engaged in what looked like a drinking contest with Theon Greyjoy, glanced up at the king's call. For a moment, it seemed he might ignore the summons. Then, with a shrug and a grin, he made his way to the high table.
"Your Grace," Benjamin said as he approached, giving a mock bow that was just shy of insulting. "Enjoying the Northern hospitality?"
Robert guffawed, slapping the table hard enough to make the plates rattle. "Seven hells, man! Do you talk to everyone like that, or am I special?"
Benjamin's grin widened. "Oh, you're special alright, Your Grace. It's not every day I meet a king who can outdrink me. Cosby would've liked you..."
This set Robert off again, his laughter echoing through the hall. Ned Stark, seated nearby, looked as though he was trying to decide whether to be relieved or terrified.
"Sit, sit!" Robert commanded, gesturing to an empty chair. "Let's see how strong you really are, Gilman. I hear you've been impressing the Northerners."
As Benjamin sat, Robert called for arm wrestling matches. One by one, the strongest men in the hall stepped up to challenge Benjamin. Lords, knights, and even the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane, all fell to Benjamin's seemingly effortless strength. Each victory was punctuated by Benjamin's cocky grin and a quip that set Robert roaring with laughter.
Cersei watched from her seat, her green eyes narrowed in calculation. This Benjamin Gilman was proving to be more than just an oddity - he was a force of nature, one that could potentially upset the delicate balance of power she had worked so hard to maintain.
And yet... there was something undeniably attractive about him. The way he held his own against the strongest men in the realm, the hint of danger in his eyes, the raw power evident in every movement. It stirred something in Cersei that she thought long buried.
Across the hall, Sansa Stark sat with her siblings, her eyes fixed on Benjamin as he defeated challenger after challenger. She barely touched her food, too entranced by the easy way Benjamin commanded attention, even from royalty. This of course earned a deep scowl from Joffery.
As the night wore on, the atmosphere in the Great Hall grew more raucous. Robert, well into his cups, was roaring with laughter at Benjamin's feats of strength and witty remarks. Ned Stark looked increasingly uncomfortable, while Cersei maintained her mask of cool indifference. She was pissed.
Benjamin, for his part, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He matched the king drink for drink, his displays of strength becoming more outrageous with each cup of wine. Yet even in his apparent intoxication, there was a sharpness to his gaze, a hint that he was more in control than he let on.
As the feast began to wind down, Robert suddenly lurched to his feet, swaying slightly. "Gilman!" he slurred. "One last challenge! Let's see what that fancy shield of yours can do!"
A hush fell over the hall. All eyes turned to Benjamin's distinctive triangular shield, adorned with an eagle, which had been propped against the wall near the high table.
Benjamin stood, wobbling slightly for effect, and made his way to where his shield rested. He picked it up, the metal gleaming in the torchlight. "What did you have in mind, Your Grace?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
Robert grinned wickedly. "They say Valyrian steel can cut through anything. Let's see how your shield holds up against it!" He gestured, and Ser Ilyn Payne stepped forward, drawing a Valyrian steel sword.
The hall fell silent, tension thick in the air. Even Ned Stark leaned forward, concern etched on his face.
Benjamin, however, merely smirked. He held out his shield, angling it slightly. "Whenever you're ready," he called to Ser Ilyn.
The royal executioner brought the Valyrian steel blade down with all his might. There was a resounding clang that echoed through the hall - and then a collective gasp. The sword had not only failed to penetrate the shield, but it had shattered upon impact, shards of Valyrian steel scattering across the floor.
Benjamin lowered his shield, revealing not even a scratch on its surface. "Oops," he said, his voice dripping with false innocence. "Hope that wasn't a family heirloom or anything."
The hall remained silent, all eyes wide with shock and a tinge of fear. Benjamin casually tossed his shield into the air, catching it effortlessly despite its evident weight. With a wink at the stunned crowd, he propped it back against the wall.
"Well, Your Grace," Benjamin said, his voice carrying in the silent hall. "That was fun. Got any other toys you want me to play with?"
Robert, for once, seemed at a loss for words. Then he burst into laughter, louder and more genuine than any heard that night. "Seven hells, Gilman! You're a man after my own heart! From this day forward, you're welcome in my court. Come to King's Landing with us - I'll make you a lord, give you lands, whatever you want!"
God Bless America baby....
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