Cersei glowered at the half-embroidered piece of cloth on her lap, the chatter of her ladies merely irritating background noise.

For months upon end, she had been exiled to Storm's End with only a few of her ladies for company – and the presence of her children of course. Thank the gods Renly is not here, thought Cersei, tugging a strand of her golden hair. She'd wanted nothing more than to throw the cloth against the wall. Stannis Baratheon was an adequate husband; Renly Baratheon was an irritating child.

"Mother, is something amiss?"

Cersei forced herself to smile as her nine year old daughter Cassana looked at her with innocent concern. "Nothing, dear one," she answered, gently caressing her daughter's long lustrous locks of black hair. Cassana was Steffon's twin sister and already very beautiful. All my children are beautiful. She frowned slightly. All but one. "Do you miss court?" asked Cersei.

Cassana shrugged, her blue eyes as lovely as sapphires strung around Catelyn Tully's neck. "I am content here," she responded to Cersei's annoyance. "I wish…I want Steffon and Robert to come home."

"Robert will remain in King's Landing as Ser Barristan the Bold's page," Cersei reminded her. "It is a prestigious honour Cassana."

"Oh yes. I forgot." Cassana blushed prettily.

"Your grandfather desires to see you and your siblings soon."

"Again, Mother?"

Cersei frowned at her. "Yes again. Once Steffon returns here, we will all leave for Casterly Rock." Cassana dutifully nodded. Cersei stabbed her needle into the linen cloth. I should be at court, not here nor Casterly Rock. Next time Stannis plans to return, I will insist he take me back to court. "Your grandfather is a busy man," Cersei added. "You should be pleased – no, honoured – that he wants to see you all again. How many grandfathers are willing to spend time with their grandsons and granddaughters these days?"

"Grandfather frightens me," Cassana confessed. "He thinks I am too small for my age – always."

"Good," said Cersei crisply. "Your grandfather frightens many people and you should be frightened of him. People follow him because they fear him. That is not important. You are a highborn lady and you will not be leading men anywhere. I suspect your grandfather plans to find you and Myrcella powerful and influential husbands." She smiled. "That will be kind of him, will it not? If you were not the king's niece, I believe your grandfather would manage to have you married to the crown prince himself!"

"What of Shireen?"

Cersei looked at her coldly. "She will stay here. Your grandfather doesn't want to see her. Shireen should count herself fortunate she was not sent away, killed or exiled to Dragonstone." When Shireen was born, Cersei loved her and would do anything to protect her from harm. It all changed when Shireen contracted the deadly greyscale…and survived with half of her left cheek and most of her neck covered in cracked and flaking grey and black skin which was said to be stony to the touch. After Shireen recovered, Cersei could not bring herself to hold or hug her eldest daughter again.

"It'll be best if you stay away from her," Cersei added. "Your grandfather will be most displeased if you do."

"Shireen is always sad," Cassana pressed on to her chagrin. "Maybe she will be happier if she is here with us."

Shireen was here with them – only confined to her own quarters. It would be an utter embarrassment if Cersei allowed her to sit amongst her company. In fact, it was Stannis who insisted for Shireen to remain at Storm's End rather than to be shipped off to Dragonstone. Odd, Cersei mused. Stannis shows more affection towards his greyscale afflicted daughter than to anyone else alive, except perhaps for that Onion Knight he is ever so fond of. "Shireen cannot leave her rooms," said Cersei stiffly. "You know perfectly well why she cannot."

Cassana nodded unhappily and returned to her embroidery. Cersei glanced at her younger daughter Myrcella's sewing. "Very nice Myrcella." The four year old beamed. Unlike Shireen, Steffon, Cassana and Robert, Myrcella inherited more of the Lannister look which satisfied Cersei and Tywin Lannister, the latter fearing none of his Baratheon grandchildren obtained Lannister looks. Myrcella would pass off as a Lannister with her curly golden hair and green eyes.

Cersei's only other child with prominent Lannister features was her youngest, two year old Tommen. When Robert was born, Cersei had wanted to name him Joffrey, a name she always imagined one of her sons to have. Even when she was almost betrothed to Rhaegar, she dreamed she would have a brood of sons, one of which who would be Joffrey Targaryen. However, Stannis refused to have one of his sons named Joffrey.

"What kind of name is that?" he had said, almost disgusted. "You want our son to be called Joffrey Baratheon? No. I rather name him after my brother than give him that name." When he acceded to his youngest son to be called Tommen, he'd grumbled, "A weak name for a weak boy." Pleasing Stannis Baratheon was a task no one desired to take.

Tired of being confined in a small, stifling room and listening to bland gossip, Cersei left for a walk in the godswood. She never cared for the heart tree or any tree or flower in the godswood but she was bored of walking on the battlements and in the massive drum tower. Cersei wandered into the godswood, thinking of her wedding night. After plenty of practice with Jaime, she was not afraid of the deed itself; it was Stannis who frightened her.

Before they consummated their union, Stannis had argued with King Robert, the latter calling for the traditional bedding. Stannis refused and was grinding his teeth in anger when the time came to bed her. Cersei attempted to bring a smile to his face by striking a seductive pose in bed; it did not work. All Stannis did was stare at her in disgust. "You aren't a whore," he had said flatly, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt. Silently, he kicked off his shoes, followed by his trousers. Before Cersei could protest or say anything, he had flipped her onto her stomach and straddled her as if she was a horse.

Whilst Stannis pumped his seed into her wordlessly, Cersei compared him to Jaime. Jaime would never take her from behind. "I want to see your pretty face," he would say. "I want to see your beautiful face glow like the sun…" After Stannis came, he dismounted from her and instantly went to sleep, leaving her to deal with the sticky mess herself. It happened every night until she found herself with child. Fortunately once Stannis was told the news, he never entered her chamber again – until after the child (Shireen) was born.

As a lover, Stannis was more than unsatisfactory. As a husband, he was often absent and when he did visit Cersei, it usually ended in a night of unpassionate and unsatisfactory lovemaking – in Cersei's part that was. From time to time, she would be frustrated to wit's end and pleasure herself which she learnt as a young girl in Casterly Rock from spying upon maids with loose morals. Her fingers had not pleasured her as much as Jaime's cock, but it was better than naught.

Thinking of Jaime's large, long cock made Cersei smile and desire him more than ever. I need him to complete me. I need him so bad…It was a pity Jaime was forced to trudge with the king and his other sworn brothers to Winterfell. If he's still at the Red Keep, it might be easier to see him. Cersei sighed. The sooner King Robert and his court returned the better.

"Patches! Patches!"

Cersei froze.

She frowned as she caught sight of the court fool and jester running through the godswood, muttering loudly under his breath. Patchface, he was called, due to the pattern of green and red squared tattoos covering his broad face and bald head. Soft and obese, the jester stopped and did a small and odd sideways dance before running off. Cersei's frown deepened as she saw Shireen chase after him, her dark green skirts slightly damp from the wet grass. Disobedient child, Cersei cursed inwardly. You should've been sent away all those years ago! If I'd had my way, you would've disappeared from my life. The last thing I want or need is you embarrassing me more than ever. She strode swiftly after Shireen, grabbing her shoulder. Shireen uttered a squeak in shock.

"What did I tell you?" snarled Cersei. "You are to stay in your rooms, not to go running around after Storm's End's fool!"

"I am bored, Mother," said the frightened girl sincerely. "Patches wanted me to play with him and-"

"Play? Are you a child?" She greatly wanted to slap her cheek…only to stop as she saw Shireen's disfigured cheek.

Shireen stared at her with her blue eyes. "I am bored, Mother."

Don't you dare call me your mother! "Go and read!" Cersei snapped. "Sew like a lady of good birth! Don't leave your chambers again! If you do, I'll have no choice but to punish you for your disobedience!"

Shireen lowered her eyes. "Yes, Lady Mother." She turned and walked towards the castle. Irritated, Cersei continued her stroll through the godswood. The gods had cursed her with not one deformed creature but two. First was Tyrion whose birth killed their mother; now there was Shireen whose mere existence mortified her. What had she done to anger the Seven to deserve a disfigured daughter and a deformed brother? She shuddered. Tyrion was a dwarf; he did not deserve the Lannister name. Father was too weak to throw that dwarf into the sea. If I was in his position, I would've thrown him to his death without a thought.

It still remained a mystery why the great Lord Tywin Lannister would keep a dwarf in the family. There was nothing special about Tyrion. He could not wield a sword like Jaime and no one would wed a dwarf no matter his family name. All Tyrion did all day was drink and whore – hopefully to an early grave.


Groggy-eyed, Cersei stood in Stannis's solar a few hours after dawn as Davos Seaworth bowed, three children beside him, one of whom Cersei recognised at once as Steffon. "What is going on, Ser Davos?" Cersei inquired, stifling a yawn. "I thought Steffon would come home later."

"Plans have changed, milady," answered the Onion Knight. "Lord Baratheon had ordered me to bring his heir back to Storm's End early for reasons he'd not told me. He also instructed me to bring his two wards, Lord Robert Arryn and his sister Lady Alyssa Arryn."

Cersei glanced at the two Arryns. The boy looked weak and ill, the girl a little tired but bonnier. "Stannis does not take wards," said Cersei bluntly. "You must have misheard him, Onion Knight."

Davos Seaworth shook his head. "No milady. Milord Baratheon told me to sail to Storm's End with Lord Steffon, Lord Robert and Lady Alyssa. Here." He handed her a sealed letter. "A message from Lord Baratheon milady." Cersei looked at it and then turned to the children. "I suppose they have to stay here," she said with a sigh. "Keep them away from her chambers. I will see them in the morning when we break our fast." She opened the letter, astonished Stannis would write to her at all. Usually his orders were communicated to her through the Onion Knight a few minutes after his arrival.

"Cersei," read Cersei softly, rolling her eyes. Stannis did not even call her his dearest wife or his sweetheart. Then again, he was a blunt man. "There is now an alliance between Houses Baratheon of Storm's End and House Arryn. I've agreed to foster Jon Arryn's heir and his daughter the Lady Alyssa is affianced to Steffon, hence her presence at Storm's End. Take care of them. Stannis."

Short and to the point.

Typical of Stannis.

Cersei sighed again and went back to her room, hoping to catch another hour or two of sleep. Mothering two wards was not what she wanted. At least my lord father will be pleased with his grandson's match: a daughter of the King's Hand and the king's niece. An excellent choice of bride for the old Lion of Lannister's grandson. Cersei drifted off to sleep. In the morning, she was greeted by Maester Jurne who held a letter for her. When she read it, her heart skipped a beat.

You are required at court. Prepare to leave.


Stannis greeted her stoically once she was at the door of her rooms. "You've arrived just in time," he informed her. "The funeral was about to start."

Funeral?

"Of course," said Cersei casually. "The funeral."

Her husband looked at her and said wryly. "Do you even know whose funeral it is, my lady?"

Cersei flushed. "Does it matter?"

Stannis's eyebrows rose. "Change your gown," he ordered. "It is unfitting for you to attend the funeral in scarlet." He wrinkled his nose. "Be ready to go to the Great Sept of Baelor in half an hour. Look presentable." He stalked off. As Cersei entered her chambers, she caught sight of one of Stannis's squires about to leave. What was his name? Devan? Or was it Maric?

"You!" she snapped at him. "What is going on?"

"There has been a death my lady!" said the squire at once.

"I am aware of that! Whose death?"

"The King's Hand my lady! Lord Arryn has died over a week ago! After he died, Lord Baratheon sent ravens to all the great lords and His Grace to inform them of the news. He decreed that Lord Arryn's funeral will be held today to give the Vale lords time to travel to King's Landing. Lord Baratheon said after the funeral Lord Arryn's body will be sent to the Eyrie for burial, but the Vale lords may still want to pay their respects to their recently deceased lord here. Ser Edmure Tully has come to represent his sister who was said to be too upset to travel here." A look of horror appeared on the squire's expression. He clearly said too much. Cersei dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

So…she thought. Jon Arryn is dead…Stannis's new ward is now the Lord of the Eyrie with foolish Lysa Arryn as his regent. She laughed aloud. Life had been dull for years – even at court. Now with a child lord of a Great House in power…surely something exciting would occur!

Cersei quickly found herself a suitable gown before meeting up with Stannis who did not comment about her change of dress. "Come," he said, striding to the Great Sept of Baelor. "The Vale lords are already there and waiting."

"Why must we be there?" Cersei grumbled.

Stannis glared at her. "Do you have any ounce of respect for any lord or lady apart from yourself and your father's House, my lady? The late Hand of the King had done many good deeds for the Seven Kingdoms and died in office. Besides, I am now the guardian of his son and with the king still in the North, I am obliged to represent him now."

The doors swung open and Stannis walked in, Cersei beside him. She glanced around. It was crowded with Vale lords and their large retinues. Standing closest to the altar was a massive, barrel-chested bald man with a greying beard cloaked in a bronze cape bordered with runes and decorated with onyx studs. Beside him was an old woman with greying hair, loose skin beneath her chin and crows-feet around her eyes. On her arm was a black mantle. She reminded Cersei of an old crone yet with a distinct air of nobility. They noticed Stannis and nodded politely at him as did the other lords present.

"Lord Nestor Royce," acknowledged Stannis. "Lady Waynwood."

"I served him faithfully as High Steward of the Vale for fourteen years," Nestor Royce murmured, glancing forlornly at Jon Arryn's body. "Never have I served such a fine lord before. Once you sent the raven, Lord Baratheon, I left the Vale for the first time in years to come and pay my respects to Lord Arryn. It is still hard to believe he has died!"

Lady Waynwood nodded in agreement. "It is a shock," affirmed Stannis. "The king could not have maintained peace in the Seven Kingdoms without him." He looked at Jon Arryn and sighed. "His remains will be sent to the Vale shortly," he told Lord Nestor and Lady Waynwood. "The king may wish to visit and see Lord Arryn's body when he returns."

Lord Nestor nodded. His eyes fell upon Cersei. "My lady, you are-?"

Cersei lifted her head proudly. "Lady Cersei Lannister my lord."

"Baratheon," Stannis automatically corrected. "Lady Cersei Baratheon."

"Lord Tywin's daughter," remarked Lady Waynwood, "and your lady wife my lord. I remember your wedding. A magnificent event was it not? My gift to you was a set of two candles."

Cersei and Stannis had received many candles as gifts and Cersei had more or less forgotten the givers an hour after receiving them. "I remember," said Stannis, nodding at Lady Waynwood. "Very useful gifts too."

Lady Waynwood smiled. "This may be an inappropriate time to ask, my lord Baratheon, but to soothe an old woman's fears and worries, when will the young Lord Arryn return to the Eyrie? We must swear fealty to him and the young lord must be familiar with the region he is to rule when of age. Lord Royce" – she gave a nod in the direction of a tall man in bronze armour – "had hoped to escort our little lord to the Eyrie after we pay our respects to the late Lord Arryn."

Stannis's lips were drawn in a tight line. "I am afraid Lord Robert Arryn will remain in my custody until I think he is ready to leave for the Eyrie. You must all be aware that the late Lord Arryn asked me to foster his son before his death and I intend to raise him to be a just lord."

"Lord Robert is of the Vale," argued Lord Nestor.

"King Robert was of the Stormlands before he was sent to be the late Lord Jon Arryn's ward," Stannis pointed out. "Even when our parents died and he became the Lord of Storm's End, he remained at the Eyrie."

Lady Waynwood looked at Nestor Royce helplessly.

"At least allow the young lord to visit the Vale from time to time!" Lord Nestor exclaimed. "He will rule the Vale soon!"

"Very well," conceded Stannis grudgingly.

"What of Lord Jon Arryn's daughters?" asked Lady Waynwood. "If Lord Robert is to remain at Storm's End, what of his sisters Lady Sansa and Lady Alyssa? Will they return to the Eyrie to join their lady mother? Lady Arryn is deep in grief but once she recovers, she will surely be ready to care for her daughters and rule the Vale as regent for her son." She did not sound certain.

"Lady Alyssa Arryn is also my ward," Stannis informed her. "The late Lord Jon Arryn desired for her to wed my heir Steffon."

Lord Nestor frowned. "Indeed? What of Lady Sansa? Lord Baratheon, by any chance is she your ward too?"

"No," snorted Stannis. "Two wards is enough for me. However, Lord Jon Arryn wrote a will before his death. He addressed it to the High Steward of the Vale and his lady wife. Lord Nestor, you are the High Steward are you not?" He thrusted a letter at him. Cersei suppressed a sigh. What could possibly be more boring than this? Hurry up Jaime; for the love you bear me, return quicker.

"I will have another copy made," decided Lord Nestor. "Has the king been told of his Hand's death?"

Stannis nodded grimly. "There is naught we can do right now but wait."


I was jabbed with writer's block throughout this chapter and it probably isn't that great, but on the bright side, I had no trouble writing the next chapter :) Reading through the reviews, I agree that I added way too many kids and wards than necessary (I was caught in the excitement of creating AU noble families hahaha) so I'll try to fix it up and make them feel more characteristically realistic or something. Anyway, I know Cersei loves her children, but I cannot imagine her treating greyscale-afflicted Shireen with as much love as say her other children.

Stannis and Cersei's children: Shireen (11 years old), Steffon (9 years old), Cassana (9 years old), Robert (7 years old), Myrcella (4 years old) and Tommen (2 years old).