Hello and welcome to the story. Hope you like it, haven't written in a while so I might be a tad rusty. But don't run away just yet- this story is a bit of a what-if. What if Cersei's and Roberts son (you know the one that dies) had a twin sister? she gets engaged to Robb, yada yada, trouble ensues.

Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Throne.

Cersei couldn't help herself; she hated her daughter.

The queen looked down at the tan babe and saw only her father in her. Cersei's boy had looked more like her, had the same Onyx hair, like the screaming child in the crib below her, but Emmery? Emmery had her face. The girl had nothing but Cersei's eyes, which looked perverted on the child's face. She wasn't allowed to give the girl a name, Robert had decided she'd be named Erina after his mentor and hand, Jon Arryn.

Cersei felt no attachment to the girl, no motherly love, just anger that this little monster had lived while her boy had died. What was it with monsters taking away the things she loved? Cersei pinched the child, giving it something to cry about. She had battled, kicked, and screamed when they came to take her boy away. Cersei's heart had broken and couldn't be put back together. Not for this child at least. for this little beast who lived.

"You hate her." It wasn't a question, "You didn't hate the boy." Again, a statement. Cersei turned around to face her brother, tears overflowing in her eyes.

"She's hideous," Cersei cried, throwing herself into her brother's arms, "She looks like him." Tears-stained Jaime's robes, as he peered over her shoulder into the crib behind them. Inside was what he could only describe as a beautiful baby girl, with healthy cheeks, big green doe eyes, and a dusting of Raven hair atop her head. If the girl resembled a young Robert just weeks out of the womb, he wondered of their resemblance years from now. "I will never love her, I cannot, I will not."

"But she is yours, Cersei." He whispered into his sister's ear, "Remember she is yours to make and mold and protect." His sister looked up from his shoulder into his eyes, "She could have what you never could." Jaime couldn't bring himself to dislike the child in the bassinette, how could he ever hate something that came from Cersei, something that bore her own eyes, his eyes. "She will never be sold like you were, never find herself without protection or power. She is yours, not mine, but I will treat her as though she is."

Cersei tore herself away from her brother and looked back down at the girl in the cradle. The squirming infant seemed desperate for her mother.

"I will never care for her."

"You needn't love the child." Jaime came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her front. "You never loved blades as I did, so I will love her for you. You will sharpen her." Cersei stepped forward, reaching down to take the girl in her arms. "And one day she will cut our enemies to the ground."

Jaime did as he promised. The girl grew under his protection, Robert never questioned why he guarded the girl with more duty than he had ever guarded the king himself. But by her third name day, the princess was beloved by the kingdom, a beautiful babe with long black hair and a shining tiara that rested on her head. Erina rarely spoke, when she did her words were so intelligent for a girl her age that it baffled Jaime and the girl's tutors alike.

Robert was overly fond of the girl, and Jamie had to admit Erina loved her father dearly. It was only him who she rewarded with her sweet smiles. Jaime was given no such treatment, instead, he received her thoughtful words, which he often preferred. Cersei was given no more than her undivided attention when she asked for it, which suited the queen just fine.

At this point Cersei had fallen heavily pregnant again, however, he was assured it was with his son, not Roberts. He supposed time would tell. Or the color of the hair would, at the very least.

"Uncle," Said his niece's sweet voice one night, "Mother, she loves me?" He was tucking the girl into her bed, a task he often took seriously. Jaime froze, unsure of what to do as the girl's large eyes blinked up at him.

"Let me tell you a story Erin," He smiled sadly, he would never be able to tell her the truth, but perhaps she could still understand. "If I tell you this story, will you promise not to repeat it?" He asked her. She shook her head yes.

"Once," He began, "before man, when animals could still speak to one another, there lived two lions who were madly in love

One day they were pushed apart, one forced to marry the king of the forest, the mighty stag

Her love was despaired, for he had loved her his entire life.

One day, however, the lioness birthed two small stags of her own into the world, but one was not meant for the earth, and he was given back to The Mother.

The lioness was so sad that she fled back to her lion love who promised to protect her and her Doe forever.

But the lioness could never love the doe like she had both of her children, there was a hole where that love had ought to be.

So the lioness raised the doe with all the love she could give.

What did it matter if the love was not her own?" Jaime ended the story, hoping on some level the child understood. But how could she? How could a child of any age understand why their mother couldn't love them? The girl was silent, staring up into her uncle's eyes with a look of... grief, was the only word he could use to describe it.

"Will the lion love her next babe?" Erina asked after a moment. "If she has one with her love?"

Jamie wouldn't lie to the girl.

"Yes, she will love her next babe."

"And will you always love me, uncle?" his sweet niece asked.

"Yes," he vowed. And it was the only vow he knew he would never break.

Cersei watched as her oldest child sat diligently, taking notes with her tutor, one that Robert had sent specially to foster her intelligence so praised. The girl was 6 now, looking more like a female version of Robert every day. Cersei would often have to girl look down when the queen spoke, so Cersei didn't have to see her own eyes bore back at her in what looked like Roberts's skull. She supposed the girl was beginning to show signs of inheriting her mother's cheekbones, but other than that, the perversion that was the combination of her and the king's faces lay only through the girl's window to her soul.

"Daughter," Cersei called, the quiet child's face rose to attention, awaiting her mother's ready command. She hated how eager the girl was to please her. it would be easier if she was a defiant cruel child. If she liked to pull at animal's fur like Joff and scream or throw tantrums. But no, Erina would not bless Cersei with being a burden. "Walk with me," The child bowed to her tutor, following the expected courtesies before leaving to follow her mother who had begun to walk away.

"Your uncle has asked you to join him today for a lesson." Her mother spoke. Erina never knew what to expect in conversations with the queen, so stayed silent until sure how to respond and react. "Do you know why he has taken you from your beloved tutor, my Doe?" Erina watched her mother for any sign of the right thing to say, when she found nothing in her eyes but the usual disliking duty, she shook her head instead of uttering anything wrong. "Well Doe, today you are to start your first lesson in sword fighting." Erina's mouth fell open slightly. Were girls her age allowed to fight? Were girls allowed to fight at all?

"Will it be a secret?" She asked her mother, who only continued to walk.

"Your uncle is the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms," Erina's mother said, "Knights and squires alike come from all over to learn from him. This is a great honor. And yes, my doe, a secret."

They walked to a strange room in the castle where Erina was made to change into a boy's clothes. When she was done her mother took a comb and brushed it harshly through her daughter's hair, pulling it to the top of her head and securing it there, then placing a snug cap to keep it safely under. Erina did not show it but she was buzzing with excitement. When uncle Jamie had said he would teach him to fight when she was old enough, she never thought that day would come so soon. When all was done, her mother threw a cloak over her shoulders and gave her instructions on how to lead herself out of the castle.

It took her forever to find her way, but when she did she found herself on a small platform outside the castle near the sea, where the water sprayed itself against the shore and the cold mist dusted her face making her squint.

Her uncle was there waiting for her.

"Are you ready?" He asked her.

"No," she replied with a smile.

When Erina turned ten, Robert was sure of who his daughter would marry. His truest companion and warden of the north, Lord Eddard Stark, had a son, and after waiting until he could be sure the boy would be strong and healthy, he sent word for Ned's approval of the match. Robert knew his daughter was widely beloved, even in the North where southerners are often scoffed at. No, his daughter was known far and wide as a beauty, and a kind child with the people in her heart. Robert loved watching the girl smile and hold the hands of the people of kings landing, people who referred to her as 'The fair Doe,' a term that made the drunken king proud. If only she had been born a man, he would much rather give her the kingdom than his cruel son.

But it was not so.

Ned sent back agreeing to the match, later they would determine that the two would be married on the girl's tenth and six birthday when Ned's boy would be ten and eight, a man enough to have a wife.

Cersei had been more than a bitch when it came to the arrangement, but after he threatened, (bluffed), that if she wasn't happy with the match perhaps Lord Frey would be a better union. She shut up. God the woman was impossible at the best of times.

"You don't even care for the girl." Robert yelled at the woman, "You treat her as though she might infect you with some awful illness. Why the sudden interest in her well-being."

"Because she is mine!" His queen hissed.

"You choose woman, the Stark boy or Walder Frey." The king said finally, sipping from his goblet until the wine had been emptied.

When Robert told his daughter of the arrangement, he was disappointed to see the light fade from her eyes and her most special smile, only reserved for him, fall. He was assured later that it was her age that made her wary of the engagement, and that she would grow to be happy with it eventually. A young, told-to-be handsome lord was what every girl dreamed of. So the king did not think of it again. He bought, instead, a horse for the girl, which she would be able to take with her to the North when she left. The stead was as ebony as his daughters hair, a southern bred horse she named Knight for her uncle.

Robert was not fond of the Kingslayer but minded him less after he saw how good the backstabber was to his daughter. Robert was always happy to know she had someone protecting her at all times.

Her footsteps clicked onto the marble floors of the castle, her secret meetings had become a welcome routine. Once in the room, hidden from onlookers, she dressed into her disguise. Anyone looking for her would never think to see her in the disheveled appearance of a servant girl.

She went everyday when the morning first touched the sky, the light flickering over the sea as the birds cooed loudly at the suns waking glare.

She was quiet as a mouse and quick as a hare as she traversed the trek to the one place she was free from all of the pressures of court. Here she wasn't copied and judged, she wasn't loved or hated, here she was a Squire of sorts, being trained by a Knight. Here she wasn't a princess, born of the Venomous Cersei Lannister and the drunk king Robert, she wasn't engaged to the next warden of the North or called The Fair Doe. Here she was nothing, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

The years had made her learn to speak not only when necessary, her uncles taught her that words could be weapons of their own, and her mother taught her that they could be as smooth as water and as cold as ice. In court, one's silence could mean their downfall but their words could also be a knife to their throats. So one must pick and choose their weapons wisely. Admiration had been a good friend to her in recent years, her beauty servicing her to people's kindness and making her seemingly untouchable in the public eye.

As she made her way down the stone steps and onto the platform which glowed in the rising sun's gentle arms, her uncle stood waiting for her, as he always was.

"Usually the Knight makes the Squire wait," He commented dryly,

"If I was usual then I'd be scrubbing your armor as you slept soundly in your bed." She replied as he handed her her sword. It was too dangerous for her to keep it in her apartment. Erina frowned as she looked at the old thing, her uncle had tried his best to keep it strong but she would be able to take better care of the sword if she was allowed to keep it, as only the one who wields it could.

"Well, it's a good thing I've decided you're so strange." Jaime Lannister remarked, "Can we get on to me beating you now niece? I would love to have a good breakfast before your shorter uncle tells the kitchens to burn all the bacon."

"I hope you ate well last night," She smirked, making her sword dance through her hands as a show of skill.

Erina pushed back against her uncle, the sound of live steel clashing together sweeter than any instrument. Sweat poured down her face, they had been fighting all day long, after all these years, Erina was beginning to win. Her arms ached like never before, but something pushed her forward, something that screamed at her to keep going. It was louder than the ache in her limbs.

She used her size and speed to her advantage, she was tall for a girl but not taller than her uncle who towered over most. She ducked under his blow, striking up, then across.

"Come on then!" Her uncle pressed, blocking quick blow after quick blow. He was playing defense, saving his strength, he would make him regret that. Erina danced around him, remembering how he used to dance around her when she was a child, making her block blow after blow until her arms fell useless to her sides. She smirked as he made a tired attempt to cut down on her, she stepped to the side and held her sword to his throat.

At the age of ten and five, she had beaten her uncle for the first time in nine years.

But her hope was squashed when Erina returned to the castle and learned that the Hand of the King had died.

When Erina learned that they would be going to Winterfell, her heart sunk and fear spread through her like wildfire. Both Erina's mother and her uncle had asked the king not to take her with him, but Robert said that it would be blessing in disguise, the two would get to know one another for a year before they were wed. Erina cried herself to sleep night after night, her maids scared to find her continually inconsolable.

She would miss each one of her siblings so, sweet little Tommen with his golden hair and eyes that matched her's, bubbly Myrcella who would bounce around her for hours on end asking her every question she could think of, but perhaps not mean Joff, whom she wished could be left behind to their visit North. She would miss everything she knew, everything good and bad that she was involuntarily trading in for something unknown and cold.

In times like this her mind drifted to the brother she had never known, would Emmery have cried for her absence like Myrcella and Tommen would? Would he be cruel like Joff? What ever could have become of her brother who'd left a hole in their mothers heart?

She didn't like to dwell on what-ifs, but in uncertainty she often found herself drifting to impossible outcomes and the like.

The truth, however, was that she didn't spend much time with her brothers and sister. Erina spent her days studying with her tutor, reading with Tyrion, or getting prodded by her Septa, at night she would make her way to the stables and care for her horse Knight. In the early mornings she would train for hours on end with her Uncle, until her muscles were sore and she was in need of a bath.

"Sweetling," Called her shorter uncle, she had found herself in the library, curled up reading a novel about a prince escaping from a dragon of olds grasp. "Are you feeling any better? Your other uncle tells me you've taken going to Winterfell rather hard." Erina's jaw clenched, she wished people wouldn't talk about her behind her back.

"I am only heartbroken I won't have you reading over my shoulder anymore, uncle." She said sarcastically, but it was evident that her heart wasn't in it. "Will you be joining us uncle Tyrion?"

"And miss pissing off of the Wall? Please." The short man joked, but he could see the perpetual frown resting behind her features, "Lord Stark is an honorable man." His voice changed to a more serious tone. "It's only right to assume his son will be the same."

"I'm sure Robb Stark will be a fine husband," Erina said, "But I don't care about how good of a husband he is."

"I'm sure you're opinion on that would change if you had a bad husband niece," Tyrion said, "So if not Robb Stark, what's making my favorite niece so melancholy?" And Erina couldn't help it, a dam burst someone deep inside her heart and her words fell from her mouth like rain in a summer storm.

"I don't want to leave you all," her voice suddenly broke, she had told no one else of her reservations. "I love the capital and my family no matter how cruel we are to each other at times. I've heard women in the north receive little to no schooling besides their septa's, and that it's a cold land full of cold people. How am I supposed to find love with people who don't know me? With a husband that will think of me as odd and a southern girl unaccustomed to his lands. How is it my father wants to send me somewhere I've never been for the rest of my life? Oh Uncle I don't mean to sound foolish or ungrateful, I'm sure the Starks are kind and will show me great hospitality, but can I really survive off of hospitality and the pity of my good-family? It doesn't make any sense, but I-I thought I had time."

"Time?" Her uncle asked,

"Time to be happy," she said, tears streaming down her face, "Just for a little while longer."

Comment if you liked it- or if you didn't. (I would prefer any comment to be constructive). Let's spread peace and love people.