Disclaimer: ASOIAF rights belong to G. R. R. Martin. This is Fan Fiction.

A True Baratheon

Thunder echoed throughout the Red Keep, lightning flashing across the sky as torrents of rain were unleashed from the heavens. It was as if the world was being washed away, such was the magnitude of the storm, and yet the cries of a woman could still be heard, above all the noise of the tempest.

Cersei's screams filled the birthing chamber. She had laboured for twelve hours, the pain excruciating, but finally the child was emerging from her womb. Midwives crowded around the Queen, jostling each other as they cared for her, mopping up blood and wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Push Your Grace! Push!" Cersei instinctively followed the commands of the midwives, screaming in agony as she finally pushed the babe from her body. As she did so, there was a huge crash of thunder as a bolt of lightning lit up the room, the noise deafening the women inside.

The cries of the baby replaced the screams of agony, as a midwife cradled the baby in her arms, checking for any signs of problems with the birth. Satisfied, the midwife carefully placed the newborn-babe in its mother's arms, smiling as she did so.

"Congratulations Your Grace. It's a boy." The midwife turned to the others standing there, shooing them out to leave the Queen with her son and her brother Jaime.

A smile spread across Cersei's face, despite the exhaustion and pain she was experiencing, as she reached for the swaddling-cloth covering the babe's face. Another child from Jaime. Another true Lannister. Pulling the cloth back, however, she felt as if her heart had stopped. Looking up at her was a babe with sapphire-blue eyes and tufts of jet-black hair. This is not Jaime's child! How could this be! I was so careful, I went to the woman every time that fat oaf lay on top of me, this must be some cruel joke, I-I-I can't raise his child. I can't. As a wave of hopelessness swept over Cersei, the babe smiled at her, cooing as he reached for her breast instinctively. She brought his mouth to her nipple and allowed him to suckle, sitting in shock. She raised her head to look at Jaime, who smiled weakly as he turned to leave the room, barely able to disguise his disappointment.

"Jaime, I-I'm sorry." The words barely escaped her mouth she was so choked with anger and shock at her child's origins.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. He is a beautiful child." But he is not yours. Jamie smiled sadly at Cersei, before turning and walking out of the door, ushering in Cersei's first-born Joffrey, before closing the door quietly.

"Mama?" The young child toddled over to his mother, looking in curiosity at the bundle in her arms. The storm terrified him if the stain that had spread across the crotch of his nightclothes was anything to go by.

She reached down, helping her son climb up onto the bed before pulling him close and comforting him.

"It's okay my sweet. The storm cannot hurt you, not in here." She sobbed into Joffrey's shoulder, her grief overcoming her, as he looked on in fascination at his newborn baby brother.

"Brother?" The little prince said as he looked up at his mother.

"Yes. Brother."

…

The next day dawned bright and peaceful, birdsong lifting the spirits of the servants as they went about their duties. The tranquillity of the capital was a world away from the melee of the storm, a storm befitting the birth of a Baratheon. Dappled sunlight shone through the trees landing on the Queen's face, warming her as she sat in the gardens, cradling her newborn son. Surrounded by her babbling courtiers, she simply sat looking at her son, blocking out all the noise. She was still unable to comprehend how she had conceived a son with Robert, but she had been unable to maintain her rage at her mistake as she held her son in her arms.

Even if his father is Robert, even if he is not a Lannister, I love him. He is so beautiful, so perfect, so tiny, I cannot believe he comes from the seed of that oaf. No matter. I will raise him as best I can, and I will do my utmost to ensure that Robert does not make him a replica of himself. I could not let that happen. Not to my son.

Her reverie was shattered however, when the sound of clattering hooves reached her ears; Robert had returned from his hunt. He rode his horse through the gardens, stopping and dismounting near Cersei, his Kingsguard and brother Renly close behind. Cersei stood and turned, the courtiers falling silent in deference to the king as she stood proudly, head held high as she clutched her son to her bosom. Robert strode towards Cersei, his great gut wobbling and his red face set in a grimace. That was before he saw his son.

It was as if he had become a different man. Here was a son he could love, a son that looked just as he did when he was born, with the Baratheon hair and eyes and an inquisitive look on his face. He is mine, not hers. Mine. I will teach him to fight, to hunt, to drink, to ride! Oh thank the Seven, I have a son, a perfect son! Tears welled up in his eyes, but he brushed them away before they could be seen. For the first time, and indeed the last the court could remember, he looked at Cersei with something akin to kindness. Not affection, that would take a miracle, but gratitude for the woman who had borne him a son identical to him.

Robert thought for a minute, looking down at the baby's face, as he searched for a name befitting a prince.

"Orys. He shall be called Orys. After the founder of my house," Robert proclaimed, raising his head to address his retinue, "and may he grow to be even greater than I was. May he be a true Baratheon."

Hope you liked it, this is my first fan-fiction, so any criticism would be greatly appreciated!