(A/N: Hello! So, this is my first Game of Thrones fanfiction. The first couple of chapters is an introduction to Lyra Baratheon, the duaghter of Cersei and Robert. Please enjoy and feel free to review. I'll try and make chapters as long as possible!)

Robert looked down at his sleeping daughter. A second nightmare had brought her to his bed, and she had cried all night – not even Cersei could tackle their daughter's tears. Robert ran his hand through her daughter's thick, dark hair. Lyra was a Baratheon through and through, and nobody could take that away from Robert. His other children were all golden haired lions, but his own Lyra was his pride and his fury.

Robert ran a hand through Lyra's dark hair and kissed the top of her head before slipping out the bed – allowing his little girl to sleep soundly. He remembered when Lyra had only been a toddler, three or so, and she had first discovered Robert's mighty War Hammer, she had laughed and tried to take hold of the weapon. Her small hands had curled around the thick handle, and she tried to lift it. Robert chuckled as he watched and ruffled her dark curls – not yet long enough to be braided into any style. Lyra had looked up at her father with eyes as blue as sapphires and pointed to the hammer. She had called it a 'ha-ha' and Robert had yet again laughed and lifted Lyra into his arms. She had been the only child he had that he knew he truly loved. It had been in that moment, when Lyra had tried to lift the War Hammer that Robert wished his little Lyra had been born a boy – like his first child with Cersei. But no matter how hard Lyra tried, she would never be able to lift any weapon, never mind a War Hammer. Lyra would never ride into battle, she would be like every women in the Seven Kingdoms and would have to wait for her husband to come back from War.

When Lyra had come to his chambers, another night of terrors had plagued her, and she had tripped over her nightgown trying to run past Robert's guards and into the Chambers. Robert had been thankful he had been alone that night – Lyra had started to notice that his attentions had turned from Cersei long ago, especially after she had met her half-brother, Edric Storm during a stay with Renly. Robert would never admit that it was perhaps a bad idea to have the two meet.

But Lyra had gotten along brilliantly with her half-brother, but her younger brother had been the cause of her nightmares, both in her dreams and in her waking hours. Robert despised Joffery, he was his heir and eldest loving son, but his cruelty knew no bounds, and Lyra had been his favourite thing to torment. Robert blamed it on Cersei being Lyra's mother; Cersei had blamed Lyra for Joffery's punishments, for any scolding he would receive from Robert. And Lyra would be left to bear the brunt of both her mother's and her brother's wrath.

And yet, as Robert looked down at his daughter, too small to be encased in the sheets of his massive bed, he couldn't help but be overwhelmingly proud. She was strong and stubborn as any Baratheon, but she was also incredibly kind and intelligent – it was a shame that she wouldn't be his heir. She would have made an excellent Queen.

A heavy knock drew Robert's attention away from his daughter. Robert heard words being exchanged outside, but Robert had no patients to hear them. Robert pulled open the door and found himself face to face with the golden-haired bastard.

"What do you want?" Robert growled, the early morning sun had barely risen, and Robert was sure no man should be awake at such an ungodly hour, never mind a man in full armour. Jaime Lannister smirked at Robert, he may have been an attractive man, but he was as untrustworthy as his sister. Jaime clutched the hilt of his sword; it was almost like a warning.

"My sister told me that the little Princess Lyra has disappeared from her chambers again, I came to inform you that we are doing all we can to find her." Robert could hear the poison in his words; he wasn't blind to the fact that Jaime cared little for her eldest niece. She was no Lannister princess, and he wasn't bothered that Lyra was missing. Robert only shook his head.

"No need to wake the whole castle, Lyra's safe." Robert grumbled, open the door to reveal Lyra asleep, her dark hair spooling across the pillow she had laid her head on. Jaime glanced inside, "what are you doing looking for her so early?" Robert asked, not as Jaime's brother-in-law, but his King. Jaime simply smirked, he hadn't entered the room just yet, he knew better than to barge past his King.

"Princess Lyra is to break fast with the Queen and her siblings each morning before her lessons – and she is running off schedule." Jaime explained, smoothly. Jaime did a lot of things smoothly, Robert thought, he rarely knew much about his family's schedule, after all, Cersei had planned most of it. Robert heaved a sigh before walking towards his bed. Gently, as though she might break, Robert shook Lyra awake. Robert had to admit, she was the only thing he was ever gentle with.

"Time to wake, my little Storm Queen." Robert whispered. Lyra was his one surviving child in his marriage that looked like him, and he loved her more than he had loved anything, save Lyanna Stark. Robert wondered how different his life would be if Lyra had been Lyanna's and not Cersei's. Lyra groaned and twisted slightly. She opened her big blue eyes and stared up at her father. Robert was so glad Lyra's eyes weren't green. She stretched and opened and closed her mouth slightly. Finally, she sat up, and scooped her hair out of her face. Her hair as dark as his own.

"Papa?" Lyra asked, Robert smiled and lifted Lyra out of the bed, balancing Lyra before letting her go. She was getting bigger, and lifting Lyra had become slightly difficult, Robert doubted Jaime could even attempt it. Robert watched as Lyra looked around the room, blurry eyed, before her eyes landed on Jaime.

"Ser Jaime?" Lyra asked sleepily. Robert grinned at Jaime; Lyra was the only one of her children with Cersei that wouldn't call Jaime 'uncle' – which she didn't extend to any of her other Uncle's. Jamie gave a swift bow.

"I've come to escort you to your chambers so you may get ready for the day." Jaime offered, Lyra stared at Jaime for a moment, before nodding her head sleepily. Lyra then turned back to Robert, and smiled sleepily.

"Bye, Papa." Lyra murmured, shuffling towards Jaime, her nightgown swishing around her. Robert watched his daughter go, the door closing behind her. He walked towards his bed and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face exhaustedly. Lyra was all he had ever wanted in a child, it was just a shame she had not been born a boy.


Lyra didn't particularly like her Uncle Jaime. Jaime wasn't cruel nor was he terrible, in fact, when Lyra looked at him he was exactly what she pictured a Prince of the Age of Heroes to look at. But Lyra had heard the stories of how her father got the Iron Throne, and she knew exactly what role her Uncle Jaime had played. His gold cloak swished behind him, and Lyra watched it move back and forth.

Gold – a Baratheon colour, but it didn't look like a Baratheon colour on Jaime. It just made him look more like a lion. Jaime didn't speak, not that he ever really spoke to Lyra. It seemed he didn't particularly like Lyra either.

When they stopped, they were in front of Lyra's chambers. Jaime looked down at Lyra before looking at the door. His eyes were as bright as emeralds, just like her mother's were.

"That's you back safe and sound, Lyra." Jaime's voice was cold as ice, Lyra wondered if he had looked and sounded the exact same way when he had killed the Mad King, or when he looked at the remains of the Targaryen children. Jaime nodded to Lyra's guards. "Make sure the Princess doesn't wonder off again." Jaime told them, smiling charmingly again. The guards nodded and opened the door for Lyra. Lyra turned back to her uncle, and smiled up at him

"Thank you, Ser Jaime." Lyra muttered, remembering what he had told her when she was only five. Being called 'uncle' had made Jaime feel old; she had done, what she had thought, was a kindness towards her uncle. Lyra didn't wait for Jaime to say anything else, she simply slipped into her room where some Ladies waited to help her dress.

Lyra hated being dressed by other people – it was her least favourite part of being a Princess. She watched herself in the mirror being dressed in a silk red dress. Too dark to be Lannister colours, but red enough that Lyra knew it would anger her father greatly. She watched as her dark locks were braided and piled on the top of her head. It was just like her mother wore it. Lyra couldn't understand why she had to be dressed like her mother – she didn't look like Cersei Lannister after all. Her mother was a golden haired lioness, with eyes like gleaming emeralds. And Lyra, Lyra had hair as black as coal and eyes that looked like they were reflecting a storming sea. Lyra looked just like her father, and she knew that it angered Cersei to no end, to the point Lyra was sure Cersei was doing everything to erase Robert from Lyra. Lyra felt as a gold necklace was clasped around her throat and she was sprayed with sweet smelling perfume. Lyra eyed her reflection tiredly; she looked like every high-born girl in King's Landing now, just like Cersei Lannister.


Robert sat down across from Jon Arryn and ran a hand through his growing beard. Robert had sat across from Jon a million times, more times than Robert could care to count since becoming King, and each time, Jon looked at him disapprovingly – especially when it came to Robert's children. The topic of this morning was Lyra and Joffery. Robert's eldest children and the two children could not be more different. Robert took a swig of his wine, and gave a sigh.

"Lyra has had more nightmares since Joffery could talk than I've had whores," Robert complained, drinking more of his wine. "I've never seen her scared like that, that boy is more of a wee shit than I could have ever imagined. I blame his bitch of a mother, how Lyra turned out the way she did. The Gods seemed to only bless one of my children." Robert rubbed his face. Jon hummed and nodded his head.

Jon had remembered when Robert's son by Cersei had been born – a stillborn with hair as black as any Baratheon's. But then they had Lyra, she was born weak and prematurely, when Jon had heard he thought she would suffer the same fate as her brother. Something happened that shocked them all, however, Lyra managed to live and with each day she had gotten stronger and stronger. Jon had never seen a child more like Robert, in both stubbornness and in looks – even Robert's bastards could barely compare to the Princess Lyra.

But then Cersei had given birth to three more children, all of them with gold hair and green eyes, Lyra may have had Robert's colouring but she was clearly Cersei's daughter with all of her mother's beauty – but there was none of Robert in her siblings, and Jon had noticed that more and more with each passing year.

"Lyra is blessed by the Mother and the Maiden, but your other children have time to blossom and grow before you make that judgment. Especially in Joffery's case, perhaps you should spend some more time with the lad-" Robert laughed loudly at Jon's suggestion.

"My good man, Cersei has huddled that boy so close I'm surprised he's still not suckling on his mother's tit. There is no saving him now, if only Lyra could have been a boy, I wouldn't have a problem with what Joffery did or what he said. Gut the peasant boy's dog, sleep with whatever whores he wanted to – but no, he's going to be King, and if his sister already has nightmares about him, Gods forbid what the realm will have." Robert clicked his fingers and a servant poured more wine into his goblet. "Do you see the problem, Jon? The child I want as my heir was born as a girl, my son is a shit that torments his siblings and my wife is trying to turn all my children against me. Is this damned Throne even worth it?" Robert asked. Jon was used to Robert complaining about Joffery, and he had even heard how he had tormented Lyra – or more how Lyra let Joffery torment her so that her younger siblings didn't have to face it.

"Robert, we've talked about all we can when it comes to the children. You've said nothing has hardened Lyra, no matter what you've done and yet nothing Joffery has done has made her cower in fear. So, what do you suggest we do? I have said myself that you should have someone to foster her as you were once fostered. You have said you would only trust her with me, and I am far too old to foster another Baratheon so long as I live. You were far too much." Jon joked and Robert gaffed loudly.

Jon had suggested numerous things to Robert when it came to protecting Lyra from Joffery – after all, Lyra was the only child Robert ever seemed to favour. It had been a queer sight for Jon, when he witnessed Robert holding Lyra for the first time. His body was still hard from battle, and he was as clean-shaven back then and for a moment, Jon thought Robert was going to leave Lyra like he had all his bastards. After all, Lyra couldn't secure him the Seven Kingdoms. But when Robert held her tightly to him, Jon had heard Robert whisper down to his daughter, so softly Jon thought he was hearing things. Lyra had been the first thing Jon had seen Robert love since his rebellion, and had been the only child he had seen great care for.

Robert shook his head. "I couldn't send Lyra anywhere in this cursed lands. The Tyrell's asked for her hand in marriage but they were Dragon lovers, the lot of them." Robert spat, "and Tywin offered more than once," Robert growled, "like I would let him get his hands on my daughter! Look how her mother turned out! And I won't dare send Lyra to Dorne – not like you suggested." Robert continued to swig at his drink.

"What about with Ned? If there is anywhere Lyra can flourish it is under his guidance." This was not the first time Jon had suggested this to Robert, and Robert pulled a face. "I know you don't like it, Robert, but I want you to think about the future for one moment, and by future, I mean when you've passed the crown to Joffery. When you die, and Joffery is King things might be more difficult – especially if his current behaviour continues. Even the Mad King had his supporters to keep him safe. The North is vast, and if the Starks, as level headed as they are, were to standby Joffery the majority of Westeros would surely follow." Jon explained. Robert sat silent for a moment, stroking at his beard.

"And I won't send my daughter up to that sullen wasteland! Lyanna is entombed there forever, I won't have my eldest daughter face the same fate! Lyra deserves to flourish, have the wind in her hair and to be surrounded by flowers." Robert yelled, it didn't seem to shake Jon, however.

"It's simply a suggestion, she'll be safe there Robert, away from Joffery's cruelty and away from her mother. You'll be able to deal with Cersei and the other children sufficiently enough once you've moved Lyra out of the way. Besides, it could be good for her. Ned has a son, you have a daughter." Jon explained, he rarely encouraged a political marriage where Robert was concerned. But Lyra had brought back the light that seemed to have left Robert when Lyanna died. Robert thought for a moment.

"A Stark and a Baratheon." Was all King Robert said, taking another drink of his wine.


Cersei watched Lyra as she embroidered. Cersei was sure her daughter would be beautiful when she hit womanhood; she was already beginning to show the sharp angles and slim figure of the Lannisters. But her colouring was more Baratheon than Cersei would have liked. Cersei heard the footsteps behind her and turned, she knew exactly who it was before her own emerald eyes met his – Jaime smirked at his sister. Cersei cursed the fact that Lyra wasn't Jaime's, or that she didn't favour the Lannister side of her family. Especially when Cersei saw Lyra with Myrcella.

"It's surprising, isn't it?" Jaime asked as he stood beside Cersei. They were glancing down at Lyra and Myrcella from a balcony, watching as the two girls worked on their sewing. Myrcella was still learning, and even from the great distance, Cersei saw that her youngest daughter still wasn't brilliant – not that her Septa dared criticise her work. Cersei didn't bother to question Jaime; they had the same conversation every time Jaime laid eyes on Cersei's only child with Robert. "Isn't it funny she hasn't grown any horns yet? I hear Baratheon woman have antlers bigger than any stag." Cersei's eyes flashed, she watched as Lyra handed her work over to her Septa. The Septa inspected it before nodding her head, dismissing Lyra from her class.

"She's my daughter, Jaime." Was all Cersei said, watching as Lyra walked away from her Septa and through large double doors. There was a spring in her step and the gold necklace around her throat twinkled. "Lyra is as much as me as she is Robert." Cersei defended. Jaime snorted.

"You're right; perhaps she'll sprout antlers when she first bleeds. Wouldn't that be an interesting sight?" Jaime teased. But upon seeing Cersei's face, he relented. "I didn't come here to tease you about your girl – I came to tell you some news I thought you would like to hear, it's about Robert." Cersei's ears perked up only slightly, but she didn't seem too phased.

"Whatever whore my husband is fucking or whatever pit he has drank himself into, I'm not interesting." Cersei spat. Whatever news surrounded Robert was little concern of Cersei's – she had stopped caring long ago. Still, Jaime would tell her whatever news satisfied him, even if revolved around Robert.

"I overheard him talking about Lyra with Jon Arryn, they were talking about marriage." Jaime hummed, Cersei only rolled her eyes. Lyra was Robert's eldest daughter; of course he would be looking for matches for her. She was a strategic political weapon, even if Cersei wanted to vomit at the idea. Lyra and Myrcella were perfect pawns for whatever game Robert wanted to play and, like Rhagar Targaryn had once been, all of her children had been considered desirable by many noble houses.

Cersei entertained the idea of Lyra being married off to one of the Southern houses, even the Tyrell's had thrown their hat in – more than once. But Robert had been fussy, he had turned down everyone for one reason or another, mostly due to paranoia, and Cersei had been grateful in a way. It meant she could keep her daughter as close to her as she could.

"And who are they thinking about this time?" Cersei asked, bored of the conversation entirely. Jaime grinned, his eyes fixed solely on Myrcella.

"They want to send her up to marry one of Ned Stark's children, the eldest boy I think. Or maybe it'll be the Ned Stark's bastard? Fitting, don't you think? House Baratheon started with a bastard and will end with a bastard." Jaime played, still grinning. Cersei turned her head quickly, her mouth slightly agape. Robert had suggested many husbands, and many families had suggested more sons than Cersei could count, but Ned Stark's son was certainly a candidate that Cersei had never expected.

"Robert is planning what? He will not send my daughter up to that frozen wasteland! I forbid it, I will not allow it!" Cersei hissed. Jaime raised his brows, and looked at his sister incredulous.

"Cersei, think about it. People are already starting to notice Lyra doesn't look like her siblings, that she doesn't look like our children. How long before they start pointing it out to Robert, or worse, the people decide to do something about it themselves? Lyra is a liability to us, and she will be the end of us if we aren't careful. But if she's in the North, who's going to question it? Most Northerners haven't seen Robert's children, and those that have seen Robert? Well, Lyra will look just like him and when she acts differently from the other children; we can just blame it on the North." Jaime explained.

Cersei listened to Jaime, and he was right, of course he was right. But when Cersei glanced at her Lyra, she wasn't just Robert's daughter, not in the way that Jaime made her out to be. No, Lyra was Cersei's, and she wouldn't let Robert take her daughter to the furthest reaches of Westeros, not without a fight. Cersei stormed past Jaime, she was going to fight to keep her daughter with her or even at the very least, she would fight to keep her daughter in the South. Jaime turned, watching his sister.

"Cersei, think of the good it will do." Jaime tried not to plea, but Cersei turned to face Jaime, her blonde hair fanning out around her.

"If you think I'm going to let anyone take my baby from me, you're wrong." Cersei snarled, she would find Robert and deal with her husband herself.


Lyra climbed into a small nook in a library, hidden amongst the books that had been collected over the centuries, nobody could find her, not her mother, not Joffery and not her father. When she was only four, her Uncle Tyrion had shown her the nooks when she wanted to hide from her mother's wrath. But Tyrion was not in King's Landing, and even if he was, he wouldn't dare tell anyone where she was hiding. No, her Uncle Tyrion would always protect her.

Lyra cracked open the book, and flipped through the pages. Each couple of pages was a Noble House of Westeros, both extinct and surviving. Lyra loved the history that surrounded the Seven Kingdoms, but more importantly, she loved the Age of Heroes, and all the myths that surrounded them. She especially liked the one about the last Storm Queen, although nothing bet her Uncle Renly's retelling of the tale. He would do it so dramatically that Lyra would fall in love with each retelling. Lyra sometimes dreamed she could be the last Storm Queen, just as brave and strong. And she would find a husband just as strong, and she would make her House proud.

But Lyra was only a little girl of nine, and the Age of Heroes were only stories and Lyra was a living, breathing girl that nobody would tell stories about. Lyra closed the book at the sound of footsteps and Lyra held her breath. There was no sound of clanging, so Lyra knew it wasn't a Maester. Lyra stayed quiet as the footsteps grew closer.

"You know, Lyra, you should always find a new hiding place." Lyra recognised the voice before she saw the owner. Her Uncle Tyrion stood just outside the small nook that Lyra had crawled into. Lyra tried to contain her excitement as she tried to scramble out of the nook. Tyrion caught sight of the book Lyra was reading and smiled. "You really need to choose better literature. It dampens the mind to read the same book over and over again." Lyra clutched the book close to her chest. She didn't care if it did dampen her mind, she loved the book more than she would ever admit. Lyra hid the book behind her back.

"How have you been?" Lyra asked then, and Tyrion mulled over the question. He always mulled over the questions he was asked. Lyra has missed her Uncle, he had gone to Casterly Rock on some business or other, Lyra didn't really pay attention. But when he went away, he usually brought a new book for Lyra to read.

"I've been good, tired, but good. Let's say there is many adventures to be had when your Father doesn't care for you." Tyrion joked lightly. Lyra had known the animosity her grandfather felt towards her Uncle, Tywin didn't hide it well. Lyra smiled and sat down on the ground.

"I wish I didn't always have eyes on me, Joffery's getting worse, and Mother doesn't care. He killed a kitchen cat just last week and cut the kittens from its belly. I swear I was near sick, and Papa was so angry he knocked two of Joffery's teeth out in one punch." Lyra informed Tyrion. "He's the meanest boy in all Seven Kingdoms." Lyra condemned. Tyrion sat down beside his niece, Lyra had grown taller than him now, and Tyrion met her eyes with his own mismatched ones

"Yes, Joffery is a funny one. Not as smart as you are, my darling niece, and certainly not as strong." Tyrion shook his head. "But our history isn't made up of nice men, now is it?" Tyrion asked, pointing to the book that Lyra had been reading. Lyra nodded her head, and looked down at the book.

"I suppose it isn't." Lyra paused before looking at Tyrion again. "Uncle Tyrion, do you think the rumours are true? That Papa wants to marry me to one of the Stark boys." Lyra had heard her father and Jon Arryn speaking, they seemed more than happy with the arrangement – but of course, nobody was going to talk to Lyra about it. No, her mother had warned her when the time came for her to get married; she would simply be shipped off. Only her mother would care about her feelings then. Tyrion raised his brows; they made his strange forehead seem even stranger.

"I'm afraid I don't know if it's true or not, Lyra, but you should never listen to rumours, especially in this city." Tyrion warned, Lyra nodded her head and took Tyrion's hand.

"You would tell me if you found out, wouldn't you?" Lyra asked. Tyrion kissed the back of Lyra's hand gently. She was as sweet as Myrcella and as kind as Tommen. Tyrion had wondered how his sister had had such sweet children. Lyra had been the first sweet thing Cersei had ever created, and watching her worry now was something Tyrion didn't want.

"If I hear anything at all, I will let you know. But until then, you are far too young to get married an you'll have nothing to worry about." Tyrion soothed, or at least, he hoped that nobody would push marriage onto a nine year old girl.


"Please tell me the rumours aren't true, Robert, you're not selling our eldest daughter to the Starks?" Cersei yelled, pushing open Robert's chamber's door. Robert glanced up at his wife lazily. He had regretted marrying Cersei, more than regretted it. After the war, he had his choice of woman and yet, he married Cersei, daughter to one of the richest families of Westeros. He had wondered if it had been worth it. Each turn, each decision Robert made was questioned, and not just by his Small Council. Even now, with Cersei standing angrily in his room, Cersei glared at Robert and waited for his answer.

"Nobody said anything about selling," Robert provided, standing up so that he could show his kingly power. "She is being fostered by my friend, just as I was fostered, and it did me the world of good." Cersei looked at Robert like he was something she had stood on and not like the King he was. Lyra had the same glare, Robert thought, it had been the few things that made her look exactly like Cersei.

"Fostering?" Cersei asked in disbelief, she stalked towards Robert. "You are not taking my child away so that somebody else can raise her! I forbid it!" Cersei's yells got louder so that she was toe-to-toe with Robert. "My daughter will not leave my side, Lyra won't leave my side as much as Joffery, Tommen or Myrcella won't, not until she is a woman and she is married." Cersei hissed. Robert could barely contain the anger that had boiled up in him the moment Cersei had come in and began to yell He stepped closer to Cersei, almost closing the gap between them, and grabbed a tight hold of her jaw with one hand.

"Listen to me, woman, those children are as much mine as they are yours and I am your King. It is a great honour to have our child fostered by anybody, and it is a great honour bestowed upon any family that should take on our child. So, if you know what's good for you, you damned bitch, you will listen to me and me only. If my daughter is to be fostered then she is to be fostered by who I choose, and if choose for Lyra to be married she will be married." It was enough of a warning, or it would have been for most women. But Robert knew that Cersei Lannister was not most women, as did most of Westeros. But in that moment, only Cersei and Robert stood in the room, staring venomously at each other.

Robert knew that his decision to send Lyra away would have been a difficult one, and one that he wouldn't be able to get Cersei to agree on. Cersei managed to pull out of Robert's grip and stepped back, rubbing her jaw, she glared up at Robert. If looks could kill, Robert would be dead a thousand times over.

"Then why can't you send her to Casterly Rock with my father? She will be safe there!" Robert regarded Cersei with a tired look. He was done with this argument, has he had been done with countless others, and just shook his head.

"This argument is ridiculous. I am your King and whatever I say is final! Lyra will be fostered with Ned Stark and that is final!" Robert yelled, he opened his mouth to yell some more, when he caught sight of the blue eyed girl watching him in the doorway. In his argument, he had almost forgotten that he had called Lyra to his chambers to discuss the matter of fostering. Cersei turned too, her eyes landing on Lyra. It hadn't been the first time that the young princess had seen her parents arguing, but both Cersei and Robert hated to argue in front of the children. Marriage wasn't bliss, but they should have been allowed to dream for a little while. Lyra curtseyed low and walked into the room, smiling brightly at her mother and father, Robert knew that Lyra was trying to ignore the arguing.

"Lyra, good. Come in." Robert ushered Lyra in with a large sweep of his hand. Lyra walked closer to her parents, though her Mother didn't look at her, she did place her hands on Lyra's shoulders, and squeezed them tightly. Seeing them both together didn't make sense in Robert's mind, but he watched the two of them for a moment, pouring himself some wine. He certainly needed it after the argument with Cersei and the news he was going to tell his daughter. It was clear Cersei wasn't going to leave Lyra's side as her green eyes watched Robert wearily. "I have some news, I have sent a raven to my friend in the North, and you remember I told you about him, Lord Eddard Stark?" Robert tried to explain it as simply as he could – but he wasn't known for being sensitive. Robert saw Cersei's fingers tighten on Lyra's shoulders. Lyra was dressed in Lannister colours; it was like another jab towards Robert – another way that Cersei could fight Robert. "Well, I have wrote to ask if you can stay with him for a while, would you like that?" Lyra looked up at her father quizzically. She spent far too much time with the notorious Imp.

"Why?" Lyra asked, and Robert smiled at her daughter, at least there was some sense in her. "I won't have to marry one of them, will I?" It was Cersei's face then that drew Robert's attention. Robert ruffled Lyra's hair slightly.

"It would be ideal, but you don't have to marry anyone you don't want to – I told your mother that too. And you'll be going up there so you can meet new friends and learn new things. I was fostered at the Eyrie long ago, and I made my friends and family there, just as you will." Robert explained, still, Lyra looked at him with those inquisitive blue eyes of hers.

"Is it my duty?" Lyra asked him then. Robert wanted to damn all ideas of duty then, but they had all done their duty at some point, and Lyra would be no different. Robert turned away from his daughter then, and Lyra knew what that must have meant. She turned to her mother then, and saw Cersei glare at Robert.

"Why can't you tell her the truth, Robert? Why don't you tell her that it's your own stubbornness?"


Whether it was supposed to be her duty or not, Lyra didn't know – but what she did know was that she was going to be fostered in the North no matter what was said to her father. Still, Lyra had heard only good things from the Starks, even her mother had said 'they were at the very least honourable'. The only person that seemed to find it laughable that Lyra was going North was Joffery – and that didn't surprise her in the slightest.

Joffery had done everything to tease Lyra, even going as far to point out that she would be dressed like a peasant, or be fed the Wolves.

"Maybe you'll bare his pups." Joffery had laughed, he was tall for his age, and although Lyra was taller, he still towered over her. "Wouldn't that be funny? If you married one of them, you'd become a bitch!" Joffery had said similar things all week, and Lyra was struggling to hold her tongue. It was almost laughable that he would do it out of ear-shot from their father, but if Robert had knocked two baby teeth from Lyra, she would certainly keep away from him. Still, Joffery teased Lyra, poking fun whenever he could. He had called Lyra more things than she could possible count since finding out that she would be going to the North, more things than a child of Joffery's age should know the meaning of. Lyra tightened her fists and turned her back, she had to finish packing and she wouldn't sit and listen to Joffery much longer.

"You're just jealous!" Lyra said shakily, she wasn't sure why she had said it, only that it needed to be said. There was a grave silence behind her, and Lyra held her breath, Joffery might hit her again. But he wouldn't dare, their father always knew when Joffery lifted his hands to Lyra, Lyra never told but Robert always knew

"Jealous? Me?" Joffery sounded affronted, Lyra could hear him storm towards her, she felt his tight grasp on her wrist as he spun her around to face him. "I'm going to be King and you will respect me!" Joffery hissed. Lyra blamed her mother for all of this, Joffery was so obsessed with becoming King it was like he forgot that their father still lived and breathed. Lyra struggled to get out of Joffery's grip and each time she moved he squeezed her hand harder. "Well, why don't you bow to me, bitch?" Joffery had leaned in too close, and Lyra began to panic. He got crueller and unpredictable with each passing day, and suddenly his close proximity scared her. Lyra wasn't thinking, but she had remembered what her father said; a good soldier always has the element of surprise. Well, Lyra had the element of surprise right now; Joffery was slightly taller than her and overestimated his own strength. Without thinking, Lyra shut her eyes tight and swiped upwards. She felt her hand connect with Joffery's cheek.

Faster than Lyra had expected, Joffery let go of Lyra's wrist and pressed his hands to his cheek, tears beginning to form in his brilliant green eyes. Lyra wasn't sure but she thought she heard him threaten to tell their mother before scurrying away. Lyra felt a cold sense of dread go through her, even if Joffery had started it, Lyra had hit the Crowned Prince, and that was a lot worse than a boy tormenting his sister. Worried that she would have to face her mother's wrath, Lyra ran towards the throne room where Robert was holding court. Her father would understand – he always did.

When she arrived, Lyra was more than thankful her mother and Joffery weren't in the throne room; it meant she had at least beaten them there. People curtseyed as Lyra walked through the throne room, each lower than the other. But when she reached the Iron Throne, her father looked bored. It was like his eyes hadn't registered it was her for a second, but when they did, they lit up. Robert tried to sit up as straight as he could in the large, Iron Throne, and Lyra tried to ignore the eyes of the gold cloaks around her.

"What can I do for you, Princess?" Robert asked, giving Lyra a little wink. But even the playful attitude of her father did little to soothe her. Suddenly, she realised that all the eyes of the Court were on Lyra, and she began to play with the sleeve of her dress.

"Well, you see-"Lyra began, but before she could finish the doors opened again and Joffery came marching in, their mother at his side. It was safe to say they were both furious. Lyra gulped and took a shaky step back; her last few days in King's Landing would certainly be spent in her chamber. Joffery pointed an accusatory finger at Lyra.

"There she is Mother! She did this to me!" Joffery yelled, pointing at the scratches on his cheek and the red-ish/purple mark that was beginning to surround them. If it weren't for her fear of her mother, Lyra would have been proud of her handiwork. Lyra heard her father stand up behind her, but was too afraid to turn. Joffery liked to get her off her guard.

"What's the meaning of this?" Robert roared, and Lyra was suddenly reminded of the King her father was. He might have become slightly heavier in his age, but that meant little to nothing when it came to the authority he held. Robert's shout had caused both Joffery and Cersei to stop in their tracks. Robert regarded both his children and his wife. "Well?" Robert asked, and Lyra knew one of them had to answer soon; Robert hated asking for things more than ones. Joffery stumbled forward, pointing a finger at Lyra again.

"She hit me Father, look!" Joffery pointed at his face. Robert didn't move, but he still inspected the injury before turning to Lyra. Lyra wasn't going to deny it, she might have been scared of the repercussions but she was no liar. Robert only had to look at her face to see the guilt written across it. Still, he raised his brows.

"Did you hit him?" It was only a simple question, but it was enough for Lyra to feel the tears spill from her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to tell her father what had gone one before she had hit Joffery; Robert nodded and listened before turning back to Cersei. "Get the boy out of my sight!" Robert commanded, shooing them away with his hand. "Snivelling because he got what he deserved, I've told him before that one day someone won't take to his vile attitude." Cersei looked more shocked than Lyra did. Lyra had hit and marked the Prince, but her father's gaze sat steadily on her mother.

"You'll let her get away with it? With no punishment?" Cersei asked. Cersei rarely punished her children, but where Joffery's cruelty was involved, everybody else was at fault. Robert simply sat down on his great throne.

"What would you have me do? Don't you think both the children have punished each other enough? Now, be gone with you." Robert commanded. Cersei only grabbed Joffery and led him from the Throne Room. Robert's gaze then fell back on Lyra. "You really hit your brother?" He asked again, and when Lyra nodded her head, still afraid of the trouble she had gotten herself into, Robert let out a large booming laugh. He beaconed Lyra forward and when she did come forward, he scooped her up and sat her on his knee. "Ours is the Fury!" He roared their house words, beaming down at his daughter. Lyra felt a sense of relief roll through her, and caught the eye of Jon Arryn who simply shook his head at Robert.


Saying goodbye to her family was like pulling teeth. Little Tommen and Myrcella had clung to Lyra's skirts and cried at her leaving them. She had hugged them both tightly and promised at the very least to write them when she could. That seemed enough to get Myrcella to let go, and little Tommen copied his sister only after being persuaded a bit more. She would certainly miss the two them terribly, the next time Lyra would see them, she was sure she wouldn't recognise them. Next to say goodbye to her was Joffery. The marks on his face still hadn't healed, and he looked at Lyra venomously, but knew he could do little with their father standing right there – Father always protected her. Joffery and Lyra gave each other a brief hug, but it felt like far too long as Joffery squeezed her tight enough that Lyra was sure he was breaking, or trying to break, her ribs. When he finally let go he smiled at his sister.

"Safe trip, maybe the next time I see you, I'll be on the Throne." Joffery bragged, Lyra hoped that she would never see her brother on the Iron Throne, but she wouldn't dare say that out loud, not with their mother only inches from them. So instead, Lyra smiled prettily and bobbed her head.

"Let's hope we won't be parted that long, brother." Lyra parted, walking towards her mother. Cersei Lannister was tall and beautiful, with hair that had been kissed by the sun and eyes that shown so brightly. Lyra wished she looked like her mother, just as her siblings did.

Cersei captured her eldest daughter in a hug and pulled her close, kissing Lyra's cheek. "I promise we won't be parted long, my darling." Lyra nodded her head and hugged her mother back, even if Joffery was her mother's favourite, Lyra didn't want to be gone for too long. It seemed like forever when Cersei finally let Lyra go, and even when she did let Lyra go, she was reluctant. Next to say goodbye to Lyra was her father.

It would be a whole new world without Robert Baratheon near her; after all, her father protected her from all harm. Robert didn't say much as he lifted Lyra up and on to her horse, she was taller than him when she sat astride the great black beast that Jon Arryn had gotten her for her ninth name day. Robert kissed the back of his daughter's hand, his kiss was scratchy due to his growing beard, and Lyra tried not to laugh. Robert met his daughter's eyes then and smiled up at her. "Ned Stark will keep you safe, my Storm Queen, and remember our words whenever you feel alone" Lyra gazed down at her father; it was rare that he ever spoke so tenderly in public. Lyra nodded her head, and bit back tears. Baratheon's don't cry, Lyra had to remind herself. When she met her father's eyes, she saw that even he seemed sad to see her go.

"Ours is the Fury," Lyra whispered, just loud enough for Robert to hear, and he grinned at her, nodding his head proudly, his great golden crown glittering in the sun light.

(A/N: That's it for Chapter One and I really hoped you liked it! Please remember to review :D I also want to add that I wanted to show a more tender side of Robert. I've always wondered what he would be like if he had a child that wasn't completely a Lannister, so please, if you think he's too out of character, don't be mad. He'll be back to his usual self soon!)