Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or the A Song of Ice and Fire series. I only own Eleanora.
So, I have reworked this fanfiction slightly. I'm still not entirely happy with his opening, but give it a chance.
I've tried to become more descriptive, but due to my language skills (English not being my first language), this is as far as I've gotten. If anyone would like to be a Beta for me, I'd be more than happy.
"A new life will begin at the passing of the sun, but winds of winter cease and the flower of summer is soon to blossom. With peace long-lasting and a life at grow, the seed of a lost King will bring the winters snow. But years and years shall pass before the summer is to break, where only one of two shall seal their fate. Many will fall until the rightful shall prosper hand in hand with their holy master. And life won't stop as a new threat looms, where are united to end the coming of doom." - Isayk
The wind and rain thrashed against the walls of the Red Keep as the worst storm of the Wet Winter had arrived. The Wet Winter was to be a short but significant time in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. Many died in the storms that raged from the North to Dorne.
Floods were common and thousands drowned before the cold of the rain would chill their bones for the coming of death. King Robert, the newly crowned King of Seven Kingdoms sat nervously in the council chamber. His wife was birthing their first child somewhere in the Red Keep.
"Your grace," he heard come from the door. Barristan Selmy stood there when he looked up.
"Yes, what is?" Robert grumped.
"A man, Isayk, requests an audience, your grace," the seasoned knight informed him.
"Tell him the King is busy," Robert gulped at a chalice of wine.
"He says it a matter of great urgency, my King," Barristan continued. Robert looked at his Kings guard through narrowed eyes. What could be of such importance? he pondered.
"Send him in." Barristan nodded out the door and an old man was guided into the room by Jaime Lannister, his wife's twin brother. His long white hair hung over his face and his eyes showed no sign of sight.
"King Robert," the man said in an old and crackled voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard many stories of your skills in battle."
"You wished to speak?" Robert questioned him. He half expected the old frail man to waste his time, but he was not ready for what he was to say.
"Aye, your grace," he said. Even though his eyes could not see, he still could feel the man's stare pierce his soul as he looked straight towards him. "I came to tell you of what I have seen. I have come to tell you what is to come."
"This is ridiculous," Robert said, shaking his head. "Send him away."
"A new life will begin at the passing of the sun, but winds of winter cease and the flower of summer is soon to blossom," Isayk said, before he could be escorted from the chambers. Robert looked back to the man intently, as did the members of his Kings guard that were present. "With peace long-lasting and a life at grow, the seed of a lost King will bring the winters snow." Robert didn't move his eyes from the aging man as he spoke of his prophetic visions. "But years and years shall pass before the summer is to break, where only one of two shall seal their fate. Many will fall until the rightful shall prosper hand in hand with their holy master. And life won't stop as a new threat looms, where all are united to end the coming of doom."
"The Targaryens," was all that left Roberts lips in a whisper. "Jaime, take the man away. Barristan a word."
"Yes, your grace?" The commander of the Kings guard asked, as Robert awaited his Lannister good-brother to leave the room.
"The man must be killed," Robert told him.
"But, my King," Barristan interrupted. "He is an old man."
"Who spoke of the Targaryens revenge," Robert said. "A new life will begin at the passing of the sun, my reign. My reign that began with the wettest winter known to man. No sun to grow crops. But the winds of winter cease and the flower of summer is soon to blossom. Winter will end soon, thank the Gods. With peace long-lasting and life at grow, the seed of a lost King will bring the winters snow. But years and years shall pass before summer is to break, where only one of two shall seal their fate. They'll return Ser Barristan. I'm sure of it. When the next Winter comes, one of those two Targaryen children in Essos will return. They will want the Iron Thrones. They may not have armies or ships yet, but hand in hand with their holy master, they'll marry into a family with those supplies. Can't you see?"
"This is witchcraft, your Majesty," the knight told him. "It shouldn't be believed. You shouldn't trust the words of those men."
"Then either way, you have him killed, then send an assassin to take care of the two Targaryen children," Robert ordered him. Barristan couldn't refuse him. He was the King now. No matter how loyal he would be to the Targaryens, he served the King. Robert was his King now. There was another knock at the council chamber door. Jaime returned to the room with a young woman standing behind him.
"Your grace, the midwife is here," he told him. She curtsied before him.
"Your Majesty," she addressed him. "Your wife was blessed by the Gods with two children."
"Two?" Robert questioned, still processing the information. A small smile appeared on his face, as well as on the faces of the Kings guards.
"Yes. The first a boy and second a girl," she explained to him, her voice breaking ever so slight. "Both black of head." She looked to the ground.
"A son and a daughter," Robert said. "This calls to the biggest celebration the Seven Kingdoms have ever seem. Once the storm passes send-"
"Your grace," the timid midwife said softly, drawing their attention back to her. "I'm afraid to say that the first is very small and sickly. The maester tells us that he is not likely to last night."
It had been days since they were told that their son would die. Cersei hadn't spoken to Robert, nor had she even seen him. Her son passed away in the dark of the night. It broke her heart in two when he took his final breath. He was so little. A tiny thing, so pale and quiet. She held him in her arms as he slipped away. She prayed to all seven gods for a miracle, but none were so merciful. None of them saved her son.
Unlike his sister. She lived on. She was the natural size of a newborn babe, if not bigger, or so she had been told. She was said to have looked like him too, only with more colour in her cheeks and dark hair that littered to top of her little head. Cersei had no seen the girl. She ordered her away to be cared for by a nursemaid. The entirety of her attention was placed on the ailing heir.
When her son was taken away, she secluded her. Cersei didn't speak to anyone, not Jaime, not her handmaidens. It was four days after the death of her son that she finally rose from her bed.
As the days passed, the grief for her son subdued. She remembered her other child. The one that lived. When she arrived at the nursery, she found her child in the crib and the wet nurse sitting in a nearby seat. She rose when Cersei entered the room.
"Your grace," she curtsied.
"You may leave us," Cersei said, walking over to the bassinet. The beautiful little baby girl asleep in front of her. She stroked her rosy cheek carefully, trying not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. She stood watching her child for what felt like an eternity, before uttering the name on her lips. "Eleanora."
"Then that shall be her name," she heard come from behind her. Turning quickly, she saw her husband by the door. "Princess Eleanora Baratheon."
