It was cold. So cold. Fingers scrabbled at the windows, desperately trying to open them as the water rushed in. Due to the pressure in the cabin of the car, neither door or window could be opened. However, in her fretful panic, she tried to crank the window down, the light fading from the car as it plunged deeper and slower into the ocean. The ice had been slick, too slick for her to try and hook the turn on that bridge. Her wheels had spun out from underneath her and she went straight through the railing as she had been going significantly over the speed limit. She'd always joked about her luck, never being pulled over or getting into a car accident, despite how fast she typically drove.

The frigid winter water was up to her neck now and the car had pivoted in the water. She was unable to tell which direction was up, disoriented from when her head had smashed into the steering wheel. No doubt she had a concussion, but the adrenaline surged and she fought for survival despite the chill that was causing her muscles to seize and her movements to get more lethargic. When the cabin finally filled with water, she was able to fumble the door open, staring out into inky darkness, reaching outside of it. However, she couldn't move, not having realized that her legs were pinned underneath the dashboard which had crumbled on top of her after the impact with the railing and then subsequently the water. Shock and the cold water had made her ignorant to the pain she should have felt from her legs being crushed.

Realizing her dilemma, she could do nothing but hold her breath for another few seconds before she gasped, jerking at her legs and taking in water as she panicked more. Just as the water around her was dark, even the lights of her car began to fade until there was nothing left.

Was this death? An inky existence that she had to resign herself to, unable to see what had become of her, unable to move on to some sort of afterlife? She had always been agnostic, not really certain about what laid on the other side after death, but she hadn't expected it to be nothing. Disappointment welled in her, but she had no body, no form to feel her disappointment. It was just empty. To think that all people who died simply wallowed in nothingness was harrowing.

She remained there for what seemed like an eternity. But after a time, she felt strange, almost as if she could feel a weak and feeble body, but that her mind was just disconnected from it.

Light was thrust upon her and for a few moments, she believed that maybe Heaven had just lost her and finally found her. Who would have thought there'd be some sort of line to get through the golden gates? But as her weak eyes adjusted to the bright lights around her, she found that she wasn't looking at a misty, cloud filled Heaven, but someone's room.

The walls were made of stone, rich drapes fell down around a four poster bed enameled with gold. She was being lifted and her nakedness swaddled after being rubbed down. Confusion mounted and in her desperation to ask what was happening, all she found the ability to do was cry out. Her voice took her aback, that of a squealing babe as the blurry face in front of her swiftly passed her to the woman that had birthed her.

With her weak eyes, she was unable to focus completely on the woman, but she could make out thick ringlets of gold, which were pushed back and away from her face. Her wailing stopped as she tried to see through the haze of her poor vision, noticing the woman had bright green eyes. Have I just been reincarnated? Why can I remember everything? Wouldn't I just have deja vu moments here and there, not a full blown memory?

"Leave us," the woman ordered thinly, her voice shaking with exhaustion but still demanding obedience. Whomever had passed her on to her 'mother' bowed their head and dismissed themselves.

Another figure leaned over the bed the moment the door was closed. He was adorned in pale white armor, a cloak had been put aside on his chair as he inspected the child. "Not an ounce of Robert in her," he remarked, reaching forward to smooth back some hair on top of her head.

"No and I prefer it that way," the woman snapped back, cradling the child close as she smiled down on her. "You'd think he'd be here for the birth of his first born child."

"He's hunting. He went out when you went into labor," the man answered.

Well that's kind of shitty. Why wouldn't he be here for my birth? She wondered quietly, still not comprehending what was going on. The only thing she knew was that she had been reborn and retained her memories. Reincarnation was not something she had ever doubted, being agnostic. Although, the fact that it had happened to her was the most disbelievable part about it. Seems like the absent daddy trend is going to continue into this life too.

"It doesn't matter, I wouldn't want him here anyways," she muttered.

If you don't like him then why are you with him? Just divorce or something, she thought, still trying to focus her vision on the woman. For a moment there was a bit of clarity and she could see that the woman holding her, even in her exhaustion, was absolutely beautiful. Her skin was smooth and golden, her features hewn perfectly, her eyes bright and fierce, her nose soft and small, her mouth… well her lips were a bit thin, but they suited her perfectly sculpted jawline.

"Is she his?" the man asked.

"What do you think?"

Ooh drama, I like it.

"Cersei, this is dangerous territory you're treading into. If anyone questions her birth-"

Cersei?

"Then they would be questioning the queen herself. No one shall question it. Robert is too drunk half the time as it is, Jaime."

Jaime? Robert? Queen?

Pieces were sliding into place and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable with where they were landing. During her high school years she recalled reading books that had a Queen Cersei and then enjoyed the television show that came out some years into her college while she studied law. This sounded eerily similar to A song of Ice and Fire.

Turning her infant eyes back up, she tried to focus back on the woman, but her vision swam, too weak to focus on her mother. Who knew babies couldn't see so well when they were born.

Doctors probably, but I wasn't a doctor, she thought, trying to distract herself as her stomach began doing tiny somersaults. Was it possible that she was in some sort of coma? This all felt so real. She tried to flex her fingers, but found they were constrained by the blankets.

She warbled, drawing the attention of her mother, her face swimming in her vision again. Gold hair and cat green eyes… the woman was so much younger than she would have thought, perhaps no more than a teenager. Still, there was a weathered expression on her face, she had endured so much despite her youth.

"What are you naming her?" Jaime asked finally, shifting the subject.

"Lelia… Keep her name within the Lannister household. I see a queen in her too," Cersei decided, reaching down to caress the child's face with her index finger. A moment of hesitation flickered over her face, a sad expression taking hold over her for just the briefest of moments.

Lannister… There is no doubt then. Does she think I am to die as in the prophecy she was told? According to that prophecy there are only 3 children she will have, she thought, watching her through hooded eyes. The memory of the books were dredged up from more than a decade ago. Briefly could she recall most of the storyline, as she had been disappointed when certain plots had not been explored in the show series. But Lelia wasn't supposed to exist and if 4 Lannister children were born, what did that mean?

It was hard being trapped in a babe's body. She was weak, unable to stay awake for long periods of time, and unable to formulate words without properly formed vocal chords. Even if she could speak, Lelia suspected that an infant talking would be a bit off putting even in the magical world of Westeros. Her confusion on where she was and if it were truly reality and not a dream became clear as she was forced to live each day as a baby with an adult mind. Each day was too detailed, too monotonous, too fucking boring and repetitive for it to be a dream. No one dreamed in such miniscule and unimportant details.

In her past life, she had been a young lawyer, exceptional at what she did in the court of law. She suspected her ability with words would be priceless in this world, but she also worried incessantly about just being a woman in a man's world. Lelia watched as Cersei was often brushed aside by her 'father' Robert. At the beginning she had been worried about having Cersei for a mother before recalling that Cersei loved her children to death (quite literally). Cersei hoarded her, refusing a wetnurse or any servant to aid in taking care of her. Every touch, every movement, Cersei put her utmost attention and devotion into Lelia. Despite knowing what Cersei's temper was capable of, Lelia couldn't help but think that the young woman was a devoted and caring mother.

Robert Baratheon on the other hand, Lelia cared for him even less than she had in the books. In the books she had felt somewhat bad that the drunkard was wallowing in his misery of losing Lyanna Stark. However, her pity vanished completely as he treated Cersei worse than he treated his whores, especially in front of other important dignitaries. Lelia had proven herself to be a rather reserved child until witnessing Robert dismiss Cersei's suggestion in front of Pycelle, Varys, and Little Finger. Enraged, because Cersei had actually made a clever point, she threw a fit, screaming and crying as it was the only thing she could do, shooting glares in the direction of her supposed father.

Lelia began to comprehend why Cersei had come to the point of such resentment. Witnessing it was very different from reading it in a book. At a point, Cersei had been excited to marry Robert, but Lelia had never seen such excitement. By the time of her birth, Cersei was already disappointed with her marriage and had begun sleeping with Jaime more regularly. Being a bastard carried another worry that Lelia would have to bring with herself into adulthood. She wasn't aware how much history she had changed by being born, but if Eddard Stark revealed Cersei's children as bastards, Lelia would be included in that number.

These thoughts tormented her day and night, as she stressed on a plan she'd follow growing up. This was a world where she could easily have her throat opened during the night. If she was in the wrong place she would be raped and become a valuable piece for bartering. Even her intelligence wouldn't be enough, not unless she had the support to back her. Sure, the Lannisters would be behind her mother, but she needed more than just the crimson cloaks.

Day and night she formulated her plan, continuing this infant stage until she grew stronger. There was a point that Lelia couldn't stand remaining silent and she spoke at just six months old. She limited herself to short phrases, but speaking at that age had astounded even Grand Maester Pycelle. By his words, "If her development continues in this manner, she will grow up into an exceedingly intelligent child." This seemed to solidify to Cersei that sleeping with her twin brother was the best thing she had done. Little did she know that Lelia was outlier, living each day in hell as she was forced to pretend to be an unknowing babe. The boredom was probably the worst part of it all.

Just a couple more years, she kept reminding herself. But even as she aged, she realized there were things she could reveal and things she could not. Lelia had a wealth of knowledge when compared to most people she crossed in Westeros. Being educated at a prestigious college, she had to take other subjects aside from law. Her memory had always been spectacular, which was part of the reason she had been so wonderful at law. Lelia could memorize passages and laws to the word. Thus, the other subjects she had taken, Lelia had retained most of the knowledge. Thus, watching Maester Pycelle talk about bloodletting and other medieval forms of wound repair was gut wrenching as Lelia wanted to correct him. But what would a toddler know about medicine?

She had books to distract her, insisting as a toddler that she should be learning rather than playing. By then, Lelia had already established that she was more intelligent than most children her age that preferred to play and toddle around. Maester Pycelle encouraged it, seeing that Lelia appeared to be much more developed and mature than other children. Lelia began her lessons after enduring three years of care. It was at this point that her mother was heavily pregnant with Joffrey. Allowed to keep her nose pressed between pages of information she hadn't learned before, Lelia found herself more contended than she had ever been in this world.

But feelings do not always last. When Joffrey was born, Lelia thought her head would split open from his squalling. He was a needy baby, which Cersei was completely unprepared for as Lelia had been a relatively easy child to nurture. Even as he erred on one year old, he still sobbed and screamed for whatever he wanted. Cersei folded at every turn. He was just a baby, right? He would grow out of it with age.

He won't, Lelia had thought, trying not to look down her nose at her younger brother. She knew what he would become… Unless she did something. Part of her was resigned to hide in the background and try not to change as much of the storyline as possible. However, she found herself becoming attached to people. For one, she thought a lot of her mother's resentment was deserved. Lelia wasn't overly fond of her 'father'. He was a callous pig who did not deserve the throne. He could barely manage it. In fact, he didn't manage it, he had his council do that. The only thing he did was use the profits of the crown to feed his addictions; sex and alcohol. He reminded her of the senators and house representatives who were sitting in their seats of power, doing nothing to move America forward. They were rolling in their wealth, old disgusting farts who were doing nothing but regressing the steps America could be making to become more progressive. King Robert was worse, as he barely even tried to be around for important decisions. She supposed it was good that Jon Arryn was a man with a solid head on his shoulders.

Yet, Lysa Arryn was another being that Lelia found herself subconsciously resenting. Should she stop Lysa from hurting Jon in the future? Would she be able to do that? Jon had more tact than Eddard Stark, it would be better to keep Jon in King's Landing.

There had been a few times that Lelia had spotted Lysa, but she had been in disbelief when she saw her. Young Lysa was actually quite pretty. Perhaps not as pretty as Catelyn, as she had a weak chin, but she had lovely auburn hair and Tully blue eyes. Her cheekbones and facial structure marked the careful breeding of nobles and if not for her chin, she would have been exceptionally beautiful. Still, Lysa carried the burden of trying to make an heir for her old husband and his seed was weak, despite Lysa being very fertile. She had already aborted one child by now if Lelia recalled the books correctly. How many other children had Lysa lost by now? Not too many, the girl was still quiet and hopeful, though albeit pitiful. She would not be resentful for some years.

"Mother," Lelia paused in her mother's solar. To many, the queen's solar was nothing in particular, just the room where she slept separate from her husband. Lelia had learned that this was customary for many ladies who were not exceptionally close with their husbands. Few shared chambers with their husbands permanently. To Lelia, the queen's solar was where Cersei did most of her bidding.

Cersei lifted her head and looked toward Lelia. Her mask eased and her eyes creased, warming as she looked upon her only daughter… For now. She was heavy with another child, which Lelia knew would soon be born as Myrcella.

"What is it Lelia?" Cersei asked kindly.

Over the years, Lelia had found herself drawn to Cersei. Perhaps because the woman had birthed her, but also because not once had Cersei shown Lelia any mirth or wrath. She had always been a good child and Cersei prized her intelligence above all else. Even though Joffrey was her first born son, Lelia would always be the more clever one. Somehow, Lelia had a feeling that she had beaten Joffrey for the spot as favorite child.

"I want to learn how to fight," Lelia told her plainly. From what she recalled, Cersei had made the same request of her own father, only to get turned down.

Cersei paused, observing her eldest child for a good moment. "Learn to fight?" she repeated lightly. "Why would a lady need to learn how to fight?" But there was a light in her mother's eyes, a bright green and envious spark.

"We live in a man's world, mother. I should know how to defend myself. As a princess I am in more danger than the typical lady. Knowing how to fight might mean the difference between life or death," Lelia argued in response. She had more points to draw upon if needed, but did not intend to show her full hand right at the beginning.

"Hm," Cersei hummed, pouring herself rose water from a pitcher on the table in front of her. "When I was young, Jaime and I used to trade spots for the day. He would put on my dresses and I his tabard and sword. I would go and learn sword and he would learn how to be a lady…. Of course that did not last as we got older, but when I asked my father how to fight he told me no," she stopped pouring. "I will not say the same to you Lelia."

She was taken aback that the fight had been so easy to win her mother. Of course, Cersei would give her children anything, but usually she intended on keeping them as safe as possible. As Myrcella was about to be born, that made three children, which as far as Cersei knew, was all the children she would have. Did she think if Lelia knew how to fight that she might escape her fate told in the prophecy?

I'm not in the prophecy, Lelia told her silently. "Really?"

"You are a clever girl, clever enough that I think you'd know when to use a blade and when to use your wit," Cersei took a long sip from her chalice. "I'll have you begin with a bow since that will not draw as much attention. When Uncle Jaime believes you are ready, he will start you on a sword…. Is something wrong?"

Lelia trailed toward her mother and sat across from her. "I thought you'd put up more of a fight…. I had a whole set of conditions to argue if you said no," she sighed, propping her chin on her hand as she leaned on the table.

"You sound disappointed," Cersei remarked.

"I had prepared for a fight. It's not much fun when you're handed a victory in one swoop."

Her mother's laughter rang out through the solar and into the air below the balcony. Even if that laughter would grate on the ears of her enemies, Lelia always had thought it pretty. "If I were your age, being told I was allowed to learn how to fight, I would be jumping for joy. Yet, here you are so glum that you couldn't fight for the right to hold a sword… I do not want any daughters of mine to be victims of men. Any daughter that requests to learn how to defend herself will learn."

Lelia picked her head up. "And if you have a girl, will she learn too?"

"If she asks… not all women are suited to a sword. I was before my father stole that from me… I believe you are too Lelia. They will hear our roars, cub."

Why do you have to become so terrible? I love how you have been until now, Lelia thought desperately before leveling a smile at her. "I'll do my best, mother."

"I know you will, you always have," Cersei smiled before opening her hands.

Lelia plopped down from the chair and trotted over to Cersei, placing her head against her mother's breast. Even if her father figure was still vacant in this life, at least she had a mother who was much more supportive than in her last. Little good light was cast on Cersei, but in these years Lelia thought she had seen the best of her.

Cersei smoothed her daughter's long golden curls before patting her rightly on the shoulder. "Now, if only you would reign in your brother's temper."

"Mother, that's your job," Lelia reminded her, but was keenly aware that Cersei had no power to say no to any of her children.

"He admires you Lelia."

"We'll see for how long."

Hello everyone! Thank you for reading, please drop a review if you could.

The timeline in this story is going to be a bit different. I also intend on aging many people up as well. Additionally, most of the bookmark occurrences of the series will begin at later dates. My intentions are to keep the main characters a bit older than the original storyline. For example, instead of being 16, Robb Stark will be closer to 21 years old to make things a little more comfortable age wise.

Robb Stark's birth: 281 AC

Lelia Baratheon's birth: 283 AC

Sansa & Joffrey's birth: 286 AC