A.N : I don't know if everyone is in character, but I am trying. I also DO NOT aim to create a Mary Sue (Gary Stu?) OC, and hope that I am successful. This story will mostly follow the prince's POV, sometimes with a few others to offer a different perspective. Music : The whole GoT soundtrack, mostly the Stannis Baratheon and Targaryen theme. I hope you will enjoy this.

Cersei's POV

Cersei glanced outside of the window, the fresh air brushing against her face. Beyond the sound of life emanating from King's Landing, she could hear the sea brushing lazily against the stony shores - not too unlike Casterly Rock. She absent-mindedly caressed her soon bulging belly, her other hand clasped around a warm cup of moon tea. She gazed down to it, peering at her own reflection through the steam.

The child growing within her is Robert's - that much she knew. She has barely been married to him for three months and yet she already missed her moonblood twice. She has only started bedding her golden twin again not even a couple of weeks ago.

Cersei brought the cup closer to her, but then paused. Perhaps - a small flicker of hope passed her - Perhaps the King might give her more consideration if she births him an heir. One that would look like him. If Robert won't care for her directly he might do as an extension of his love for his child - our child...And if he doesn't, she'll raise Robert's own blood against him. She would gain satisfaction from doing so then, Cersei knew as much.

She tossed out the tea down onto the lower courtyard without a second thought.

The sea darkened quickly while the Queen took a walk on the beach, burdened by her protruding stomach. Streaks of lightning lit up the sky, casting a red glow onto the surrounding black clouds. A terrible storm was coming, from the looks of it.

"Your Grace, perhaps we should head back.." One of the Kingsguard accompanying her, Meryn Trent spoke up while looking speculatively at the horizon. Cersei paid him no heed for she felt something stirring up in her womb. She doubled over, her hands grasping onto a large cold rock as she first felt a very painful contraction. Her baby was coming during this very inopportune moment. She heard her guards shouting behind her, probably giving orders. The pain and the howling wind blurred all the sounds together. Another thunderclap broke her out of her haze and she watched as one of the dried trees on the nearby islet caught fire.

The waters grew powerful, progressing closer to where she stood. The salty mist sprayed her face and soaked her clothing. That was when crippling pain suddenly crushed against her body a second time, almost causing her to black out. She was faintly aware that she was jaggedly carried back into the Holdfast.

Many hours later she held the pink newborn against her breast, her face giving away her exhaustion. The devastating storm abated only minutes after her baby was born - A few places in King's Landing caught fire while others were flooded. It earned her child the nickname of Thunderborn before he was even given his first name. To her great surprise both Robert and Jaime remained nearby during labour. The hunting trip must've been cancelled due to the weather which made the King remain at his wife's proximity while she gave him an heir.

A little boy. She looked up questioningly at her husband but he only had eyes for the frail little thing between her arms. A mop of black hair and two wide blue eyes - a Baratheon trueborn.

"His name will be Durran. Durran Baratheon, the Thunderborn." Robert declared, his tone firm. "His coming has been marked by the most violent weather King's Landing has witnessed for many years. It is only fitting that he is named after the first of the Storm Kings. The one who defied Gods."

Cersei acquiesced. She had wanted to give him a subtly Lannister name, but Durran will do. Durran Thunderborn is a name befitting of a great monarch.

Durran's POV

He was five then, and already knew his way around the secret passages of the Red Keep. Since he could walk, losing his guards has become his favorite past time, which caused his mother a great deal of anger.

Durran did not care much for it however as he already learned to enjoy the modicum of freedom it gave him. He waddled through the streets, dressed in rags so that he could run around and play with some of the boys there. Every time he would sneak into the kitchens first to steal some food and then share it around with his peers in the back alleys. To them he was known as Derek, and Derek became increasingly popular as a good friend among the urchins of King's Landing.

He was looking at the different wares offered by Lyseni traders when he heard a loud yell a few stalls away.

"Come back here, yer rascals!" A large, pot bellied man shouted. His face was contorted in an enraged expression, gaining the coloring of a prune. Durran saw his friends scatter off, screaming "Run!", but he was too late. The fat man caught him by his arm and pulled him away ;

"Thought I wouldn't see eh? Trying to steal from my pocket too weren't you?" The man's hold on his arm was painful and would certainly leave bruises.

"I promise it wasn't me!" Durran tried to protest, but was slapped across the face. He could taste the iron in the back of his throat.

"Leave the boy alone, Lorro." A voice laced with an exotic accent resounded. "It wasn't him, he was in front of my shop when that happened."

Durran turned around and saw the old man that spoke up in his defense. His hair and beard was almost white due to age, his cheeks hollow and his nose curved downwards, giving him a falcon like look. The man had a long wooden walking stick and wore a gray cloak. He parted it slightly, revealing more dull colored clothing underneath. However, he had a golden ring and a large ruby adorning it, showing that he was wealthier than common folk.

"Are you certain, Xaharos?" The pot bellied merchant asked him, still suspicious. The elderly man simply nodded and Durran was unhanded reluctantly, his head still buzzing due to the blow. He lost balance and almost fell to the filthy ground when Xaharos caught him, holding him up.

"Come with me boy. Let us get you into my shop and clean you up."

Durran looked up to the old man, whispering his gratitude as he was ushered into what looked like a bookstore - walls were all covered with wooden shelves, filled with dusty tomes. There was only enough space for a small table in the middle and two chairs. On the table stood some very odd objects - there was an array of wooden bowls and glass tubes. In the center stood a copper sphere made of many copper circles, enveloping a smaller copper sphere. Many metallic bulbs were attached to the outer circles, with measuring graduations on them - Durran heard maester Pycelle mention such objects for the study of stars. He saw many layers of parchment scattered on the table's surface, on which was drawn many shapes; triangles, squares intertwined. The young prince has not yet studied Geometry but he could recognize it. Xaharos was a man of many knowledges, it seemed, and this fact bode well with Durran.

"Wait here." The old bookkeeper said, making the young boy sit. He went to the back of the store, probably gathering medicinal salves. Durran could not help but start reading the notes in front of him ;

"[...] Many have tried before to transmute different metals into other kinds without taking in consideration the physical properties of such metals, namely the size and weight correlation between the initial product and the resulting one. This is the reason why many tried to turn Iron to Gold, but to no avail. I found out that turning a metal into Gold would require for said metal sample to have approximately the same weight and size than a Gold sample. The closest was Lead. [...] I don't believe Lead to be a hybrid compound like my contemporaries, which does not make it amenable to changes in it's structure. Unless tremendous force is applied to break it apart and reassemble it - but would it be worth it in the end? Mining Gold might perhaps be simply less costly, in many ways [...]"

However proficient in reading the young boy was, a lot of the notions mentioned seemed beyond his level of understanding.

"A boy can read." Xaharos appeared in front of the table, startling Durran.

"I...I d-didn't mean to pry.." The child replied fearfully, but the elder chose to simply shake his head and smile. "You seem to be as drawn to knowledge as a fish is to water." He applied a green balm on Durran's bruised cheek delicately - it had a faint herbal smell and felt soothing. "What I am wondering however, is how a boy such as yourself came to learn his letters so well."

Durran was young but knew enough so decided that he shouldn't reveal himself as a prince, especially since he is unguarded.

"My father taught me." He replied simply. "He is one of Lord Baelish's many accountants."

From the way Xaharos looked at him, he could tell that the old man knew it was a lie. He was thankful that the issue was simply dropped as the bookkeeper gathered up his scrolls to shelf them. The boy looked at all the books surrounding him in wonder and he approached a particularly heavy looking tome called Dragons, Wyrms and Wyverns : Their Unnatural History. He heard a chuckle behind him ;

"Looks like you got some good tastes about you, lad. This one is very rare. I do believe it is the only copy available in Westeros."

Durran lets out a gasp of amazement, making sure to carefully wipe his hands off onto his tunic before caressing the spine. The librarian stared at him with a bemused expression.

"Do you intend to have it copied soon, my Lord?" The child asked, a note of reverence tingling his tone. Contrary to his parent's expectations, Durran gained a great love for learning since he could barely read. He was much more inclined to learn his numbers and decipher his books than watching tournaments - something his father hoped would change once he gets older.

The prince knew that to be unlikely and spent most of his time with his uncles Tyrion and Stannis as well as Lord Arryn. These men were his favorite people. However he disliked studying under Pycelle's tutelage because the maester had this annoying tendency to report all of his words and actions to mother. If every thing was up to mother, he wouldn't be allowed to step out of the Holdfast, let alone the Keep. Plus, it's not like she would agree for him to watch tournaments yet anyway. The queen already got into fights with his father on the subject - thinking it to be too much for his sensibilities. To which his father told her to go "fuck" herself, whatever that meant. She would always try to pry him away from his favorite people yet he didn't understand why - uncle Tyrion knew a lot, so did uncle Stannis and Lord Arryn. They would tell him many things, and Lord Arryn even promised him to let him sit and watch the small council once he gets six. His mother protested vehemently against that but Lord Arryn convinced his kingly father that it would be good for the prince to learn the matters of the realm.

Durran was already distancing himself from his mother; something noticeable but no one could put the finger onto why. Durran saw it though, saw the way his mother would look at him. It was as if she blamed him for a crime he did not commit, even if Durran knew that his mother loved him.

In a way he was glad that she no longer paid as much attention to him, now that she has little Joffrey. His little brother, who was as golden and green as her.

He was snapped back to reality when Xaharos answered :

"I am in the process of doing so. I think I only have a few dozen of pages left to complete." The old man pulled the tome out to set it down onto the table, looking a tad mournful. "I am copying several books at the same time - I have little room to do anything else nowadays."

It would be a waste to let such prized knowledge disappear with time and the child knew as much, which led him to a very impulsive decision.

"I could help you with it." Durran bounced on his chair with the excitement typical of a five years old. "I can write well and beautifully enough, I was told so!"

Xaharos' smile was guenine enough as he seemed to asses the small boy before him."I will have to see that." He said, before flipping the book open. He handed Durran a clay board and a stylus, before beckoning him to copy down a few sentences as a trial. Parchment was expensive after all and the old man had to know about his writing skills before letting him actually reproduce book pages. Durran grinned widely - It was not even mid morning yet and he won't need to make his presence known before lunch at the Keep.

Later on that day, he walked out of the store. He was incredibly proud of himself - in a span of three hours he managed to copy over ten pages perfectly, a feat for someone as young as him. As a reward, Xaharos lent him a small book titled Before the Ages of Man, treating on the obscure subject of various creatures living in Westeros before the first men arrived. He snuck back into the keep via the underground canals, his arms wrapped around his prized possession. He emerged into one of the dark corridors below the Holdfast, forgetting to check his surroundings as he usually did. He was already too absorbed in his readings.

He hitted cold steel armor.

"Your Grace? Is that you?" Ser Barristan Selmy's uttered in pure disbelief. Durran froze on the spot and looked up at the kindly knight, thankful that he didn't bump into someone else.

"Please don't tell Mother. I don't care if you tell Father but please..." The boy practically begged. He knew that he looked nothing like the prince he is supposed to be now, especially with his dirty clothing and his swollen cheek.

"Your Grace, whatever happened to you?" Barristan asked him as he took in Durran's current state. "One of your unguarded escapades again?"

"I am sorry...It just feels so lonely up out here..." The child looked down, ashamedly.

"I was out playing with the boys and we decided to check out the newly arrived Lyseni merchants. One of the boys stole something from a man's pocket, and the man thought it was me." He said, following the knight's footsteps as he was led to the king's apartments. Ser Barristan glanced at him, beckoning him to go on. Durran gulped audibly. "He grabbed my arm and yelled at me. I told him it wasn't my fault - someone else did it. He didn't care about that however, he just slapped me. There was another man there, a book keeper called Xaharos who defended me. He took me back into his store and treated me. I spent the rest of my morning copying down a rare book." The child's excitement didn't seem to abate despite what happened earlier. He then showed the knight the tome he was given for his hard work, his eyes shining with pride.

Ser Barristan couldn't help but smile at the youngling before him. "I will still have to tell your Lord Father about this."

"I know you want to spend time outside of this damned keep - Gods knows how many of us do - but surely being guarded can't be such an issue?" His father said, after dismissing Ser Barristan and the serving squire. The only people remaining in the room was him, Durran, Lord Arryn and a large balding man in red garb. A frequent drinking partner of his father. Durran eyed him wearily, but he'd wager that it would be of no use now. After all, when he entered the chamber, the Grandmaester was there; he's probably ran off to queen Cersei by now.

"Guards speak, father. If anything I do not want to be monitored and have them report on me constantly to the queen..." Durran replied, glancing up onto his sire's face. The man sighed loudly. "I don't know what it is between you and your mother, what has she done for you to disassociate from her to such a bloody extent?"

"The way she wanted me to stay away from everyone else but the ones she chose." The young prince's voice faltered a little, he was unsure about confiding to his kingly father about such delicate issues. He was afraid that his thoughts would be dismissed. "The way she tells me things about people. About you, my uncles, the Lord Hand. Everything. In a way that would make me dislike you all. It makes me feel like...like a pawn."

"Are you sure you aren't just imagining things, boy?" The King waved his hand away as Durran expected, but Lord Arryn's gaze sharpened.

"I don't think your son is lying." He finally said, slouching back against his armchair "He seems to be a very precocious child and is a keen observer. Perhaps you should listen; make sure that the boy doesn't fall into anybody's clutches. You want a Baratheon heir, not a Lannister one."

"What would you have me do?" Robert turned towards his Hand with rekindled interest.

"Give him guards that won't speak." The Lord replied simply. "I've got two of them in mind - Ilyn Payne and Sandor Clegane."

"Clegane?" Durran's father asked doubtfully. "Payne, I can understand but Clegane?"

"He's about as loyal as a dog." Jon Arryn stated matter-of-factly. "Trying to worm information out of him would be like asking a blind man about directions.", to which the red man quipped in for the first time; "He's large enough."

In this moment Durran decided to push his luck a bit further, concerning the matters of his own education. "What about Maester Pycelle?"

"What of him?" His father asked briskly.

"In this very moment he is going to my mother and tell her everything about my current state and how I appeared." The prince simply announced.

As if right on cue, Ser Barristan announced her presence outside of the chambers. Durran looked knowingly at his father while he loudly groaned. The Queen did not wait for the knight to return as she stormed in, her eyes shining with blazing fury.

"Why was I not told of this earlier?" She nearly screeched, causing his sire's face to redden in reciprocated anger. The Lord Hand gave the child a pitying glance, him and the other two men excusing themselves from the room. The king beckoned them to wait outside until this had been sorted with his wife.

"Calm down, woman! I do not answer to you!" He glared hatefully at her. It was these moments that made Durran wonder if his parents ever loved each other as he looked down.

"And you!" She turned to him "How dare you do this? Running around like some filthy little commoner! That slap was the least of things you deserved for associating with such people!"

Durran couldn't help but spill tears at his mother's tone. "I don't have anyone of my age in this place." He finally said, the clever and cunning boy now reduced into a shivering mess. His mother's eyes softened somewhat and approached him, holding him against her chest. "I worry for my little son." She whispered.

"Do you?" He bitterly replied, silencing her. Whatever softness in her features moments ago evaporated as she stood up once more, her entire demeanor turning icy. She slapped him right on his bruise, causing his father to bellow;

"OUT! OUT WITH YOU, YOU SORRY EXCUSE OF A MOTHER!"

She gave them both one last hard stare, before huffing and walking out of the room. Durran fell onto the floor, sobbing as his father picked him up and made him sit on his lap. He patted his back awkwardly, trying a few soothing words as the small child sniffled against his tunic.

"Why does she dislike me so?" He could not help but ask while looking up onto his father's saddened expression.

"It is me that she hates."

That was the last time Durran would ever cry, he vowed himself.