Read. Enjoy. Review. (The Reading and Enjoying is for you ... the Reviews are for me!)

Cersei

It was more painful than they had told her, childbirth. It was harder, took longer, and with each passing minute became more and more painful. She could not help but think of her poor mother, her beautiful mother who had gone through this twice. The first time she had pushed two screaming babes into the world. The second time, more pain, resulting in her death.

She turned wide, frightened green eyes on her brother. Silently asking him if she was going to turn out like her mother; dead, for bringing a child into the world. Her brother knelt beside her, one of his hands going to her shoulder and the other reaching for her hand so that he could give it a gentle squeeze, "You are stronger than she was," he whispered, responding to her fears even though she had never voiced them. "You will come out of this and live to produce several spares for Robert before he is done with you. This is not your end, Cersei."

She scoffed at his use of the words spares. As far as she was concerned this would be the only child that she would bear Robert Baratheon. She might have others, but she was sure that they would not be his. She hated the man too much, and loved her brother too well for that. It was not as though anyone could argue that she mattered to Robert, if she did he would have been there.

The nurses who were attending her had clucked out their disapproval when Jaime arrived in the birthing chamber, but Cersei would not hear it. Robert was out, he had told her that the closer she got to the end of her condition the more unbearable she got. He had told her that he could not bear to see the blood. He had told her many things, all of which she saw for what they were - excuses.

The excuses of a weak man who would rather whore his way around King's Landing than be there for his wife in her time of need. It did not matter. She had Jaime and that was all she needed.

"Seven Hells!" she cursed as another clenching sensation racked through her body. It felt as though someone had placed their hands on either side of her stomach and was violently pushing the two sides in toward the center. She was on fire from her chest to her knees and everything just hurt. "Make it stop!" she begged, her green eyes struggling to stay focused on her brother's. "Nothing is worth this. Make it stop!"

It was hard to look at him, for the double pain. She was in so much pain, and yet when she looked at her brother's face she saw the worry lines in his forehead, he was in pain just from watching her go through this. She cursed again, why wasn't Robert there? He was the reason she was going through this. He should have been the one to watch, to suffer her pain with her.

For a dark moment a thought crossed her mind, if she had been Lyanna Stark Robert would have been there beside her. He wasn't here because as much as he wanted an heir to secure the throne he did not really want one with her.

Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes. Why couldn't she be wanted for once? Jaime mistook her tears for ones of physical pain rather than emotional pain and he reached out to smooth her sweaty hair away from her brow. "Shush, Sweeting," he whispered calmly to her as the nurses had instructed him. "It will be over soon and you shall have a little boy or girl in your arms for your troubles."

"It better be a boy or it will be an unequal trade!" Cersei bit out, causing Jamie to smile at her fierceness.

"A boy then," he told her with a slight nod. "By sheer force of will if nothing else."

Her stomach started to clench again and she screamed, trying to sit up to better push the little devil out of her. Jaime and the nurses were there in an instant to help her. "Strong as a lion," she heard her brother whisper to her.

"Hear me roar!" She yelled as she felt another clench rip through her body.

...

Once it was all over the nurses had taken the baby away to clean it off and have the maester look at it to make sure that it was healthy. Cersei was worried, the room was so quiet, too quiet. The babe had barely cried when he had made his entry into the world. For all her bluster and complaint about the child birthing process she was already attached to the helpless babe. She could see why they said that a mother's love was the fiercest in the world. "What's wrong?" she asked, her head turning from side to side trying to catch someone's eye. "Is my son healthy?"

"Shhh," Jamie hushed her as he took a seat in the chair beside her bed. "The babe is perfect," he told her, "They just want to make certain before they tell you or the King."

"You saw him?" she asked, her green eyes widening at the thought that her brother had seen her son before she had. "What does he look like?"

"Perfect," Jaime told her again. "Big grey eyes and a head full of dark hair like Robert's." Cersei nodded, the child looked like Robert, the King would like that. He would enjoy having someone that looked like him, belonged to him in a castle full of her blonde family - their father had wasted no time putting his family and supporters into places of power after the war. "Small, so unlike you and Robert, hard to believe that a babe can be so small. But she's perfect, just like her mother."

"She?" Cersei asked, forgetting everything else Jaime had told her about the child and focusing on the one word that could burst her bubble of temporary happiness. "The child is a girl?" Suddenly the silence after the birth made sense. They had been afraid and unsure of how to tell her that she had failed.

Jaime's green eyes found hers and he nodded solemnly. "She's a beautiful one," he told her sister. "And so strong. You will be proud. And when you are ready you will try again. And this time you will give the King a son."

But Cersei would not listen to him. She could not listen to him.

And when the nurses tried to bring her the baby, to place it on her bare chest to hear her heartbeat, to try to encourage her to feed it. She couldn't do that either. She shook her head as tears slipped down her cheeks.

She could not see the child.

All that work and she had failed. She had not given the King or the kingdom an heir. She had stayed away from Jaime, her true beloved for nine moons and she had gotten nothing in return. Deep down she knew it was not the babe's fault, but she could not separate it from her pain at the moment.

She heard her brother make some excuses for her to the nurses. Heard as he happily accepted the little wench into his arms. She would not turn, would not look. She heard and ignored all of his attempts to make her look at the baby he was holding.

No matter what he said, she had failed. Her eyes narrowed at the thought of that girl child that would be sleeping in the crib beside her bed. In that moment she knew that she hated it.

-.-.-.-.-

Robert

They told him that she had given birth. They told him that the babe was healthy. They told him that the child looked like him.

They told him everything, save the one most important detail.

They failed to mention that Cersei had given birth to a daughter.

He had assumed that because no one had mentioned it that it was safe to assume that she had given him a son and heir. Now he realized that no one had told him because they were afraid of his reaction.

He stormed into the birthing chamber, drunker than he probably should have been, and prepared to yell at Cersei. She had promised his a son after all, swore for nine moons that she knew the child would be a boy. And instead she had given him a girl. A useless daughter.

He went in prepared to yell at her, to curse her to the Seven Hells. To push into her and use her in the way that she hadn't let him during the entirety of her pregnancy. To force his seed into her once again and this time come out of this ordeal with a son, the way it should have happened the first time.

But in order to get to Cersei, he first had to walk past the crib with the new babe in it. He stopped, out of curiosity, and looked down at the small child. They were right, she did look like him. It was like looking at a younger version of himself. She had his grey eyes, that had the ability to both dark and stormy and light and friendly depending on his mood, he wondered if she would keep them as she grew up. Her head was covered with dark, black hair. She was clearly a Baratheon from her head to her tiny little toes.

He reached down and ran his index finger across her cheek. She was so soft. He had never known that babies were so soft. Or so small, how could a baby survive? His daughter was a tiny, helpless little thing, how was she going to survive the world, he wondered.

He reached down and gently poked her tiny fist with his index finger. He wasn't sure what he thought would happen, maybe he thought the babe would start to cry. Instead she wrapped her tiny fingers around his finger and squeezed. Her grasp surprisingly strong for someone so small. He smiled down at her. She was most certainly his daughter, a strong Baratheon through and through.

He turned to the bed to see Cersei watching him silently. "You did well, Wife," he told her, his tone gruff. He realized that he should have praised her as soon as he walked into the room. That was the noble thing to do. It's what Ned Stark would have done.

But Ned and his wife had been happy during the nine moons leading up to their son's birth, just a year ago. Catelyn had been everything one would expect of a wife. She had involved Ned. She had let him put his hand on her ever growing stomach and feel the movements of their small child within her womb. She had given him a son. And she had handled Ned's bastard son with grace when he had brought the small child to Winterfell a few months after his legitimate son had been born.

Robert had not been happy during Cersei's pregnancy. Cersei had not let him near her let alone touch her since the moment the baby had quickened in her womb. She had not accepted his illegitimate children with grace. And, although Robert was now sure that he would love his daughter, she had given him just that ... a girl. He needed a son to secure his throne and instead she had given him a daughter that he would have to trouble himself with marrying off to this great Lord's house or that one's. Daughters were more trouble than they were worth.

"It's a girl," Cersei bit out, as if that were a reason not to accept his praise. "Just a girl. Even your little whores in the city can give you a daughter. I meant to give you a son."

Robert took a deep breath before he answered her. She was baiting him, and if that small child wasn't still holding onto his finger he might have taken the bait. But he did not want to upset the small child. He took another deep breath, realizing that much of her hostility came from the fact that he had not been there for the birthing. He had failed her in that, he knew it. "And you will," he told her. He paused for a moment and looked back down at the baby, unable to look at his wife while he admitted that he had made a mistake. "I should have been here. For the two of you. During the birthing."

Cersei shrugged her shoulders, her gaze still never landing on the small baby in the cradle, she hadn't looked at her the whole time Robert had been in the room. "As I said, it's just a girl."

Robert lifted the girl in question out of the cradle and held her to his chest. "What should we name her?" he asked his wife, carrying the small child over to the bed and sitting down next to his wife.

"I don't care," Cersei told him, turning her head away from his so that she did not have to look at the child. "Name her whatever you desire."

Robert turned to look at the small babe in his arms. "How about Le -"

"Don't you dare suggest that we name our first child after her!" Cersei yelled at him, her blonde hair flying through the air as she turned her head to glare at him. Her green eyes found his and they tightened with anger and pain. "I can live knowing that I was never your first choice, that you loved another first. But do not force me to remember that every day by naming our daughter after her."

It took Robert a moment to realize that Cersei thought he had meant to name the girl after Lyanna. He almost felt pity for his wife. But the fact that she still had yet to even look at their child quickly eliminated most of the pity. "I would never do you that dishonor, Wife," he told her, his voice hard and cold before he looked back down at the child. "I was going to suggest Lenora, after my grandmother."

All the fight quickly left Cersei then, "Lenora," she murmured softly, trying out the name. "Lenora Baratheon." She nodded. "It will do her well."

...

It was three days after Lenora's birth. Robert was sleeping in his bedchambers when one of his manservants rushed into the room to wake up the King. "Your Grace," the manservant apologized, "I apologize for disturbing you. But the maester has sent for you."

"Why in the Seven Hells would the maester need me at this time of night?" Robert growled, but despite his anger and his question he was already climbing out of his bed and reaching for a robe. "What is so important that it could not wait until the morning?"

"It's the Princess," the manservant told him, his tone worried, it had only been three days and little Lenora had already won over most of the castle. "Princess Lenora has taken ill. The maester is unsure if she will survive the night. He sent for you so that you could make your peace and say goodbye if need be."

-.-.-.-.-

Jaime

He shouldn't have been there. He had no right to be. The babe was nothing to him, simply his niece. And children died all the time. Her father should have been there. And her mother. And maybe even Tywin, her grandfather. Her uncle had no reason to be there. But Robert was not there yet, Cersei still would not look at the child, and Tywin had only said that she was a daughter when he was told that the small baby was sick, as if her being a girl negated any importance she might have.

Jaime had been present at her birth. He had spent more time with the babe than her own mother. And he could not bear the thought of her being left to old, Grand Maester Pycelle and the the nurses. She was a sick child and she needed her family. At the moment Jaime was the only family she had.

He stood at the head of her cradle, out of the way of the healers trying to fight whatever was happening inside her tiny body, but close enough that he could still see the small child. "Hello, Lenny," he spoke to her softly, using the nickname that he had given her the first time he had heard that Cersei and Robert had chosen to name the girl Lenora.

It was a good name, Lenora, but it was a big name for such a small child. Lenny, while not particularly royal sounding fit the small babe much better. Her grey eyes opened at the sound of his voice and even though her gaze never found his, she was much to young for eye contact, he felt sure that she knew he was speaking to her.

The door to the chamber opened and even though Jaime could not look away from the baby in front of him he could tell by the hush that fell over the room that the King had entered. Jaime Lannister had never particularly liked Robert Baratheon, but he smiled when the King moved around the cradle to stand beside him. It was good that Lenora had a parent that cared about her. Cersei had not even moved from her bed when the nurses told her that her daughter was sick. "I was praying to the Seven," Robert murmured as he looked down at his daughter. "Praying to the Mother for mercy and the Crone for guidance."

Jaime's lips quirked into a smirk. He was not religious and had never prayed the the Seven, but as every child in Westeros, he knew the prayers. "Perhaps you should have prayed to the Maiden, to watch over the little princess."

"I did," Robert told him with a nod. "I prayed to all of them. Even the stranger, begging him not to take her. Telling him that it was not her time yet."

Jaime nodded quietly, wondering if the King's prayers would be enough. Wondering if the small child would make it through the night. He turned to Grand Maester Pycelle, "What do you think is causing this, Grand Maester? She was perfect when I saw her this afternoon. No sign of a fever or sickness."

The Grand Maester looked up, his gaze slowly flitting between the two great men standing behind the princess's cradle. He was afraid to tell them, he knew what the implications of his statement would be. But there was no way to avoid answering, it was a direct question and it deserved a direct answer. "Your Grace," he said slowly, nodding toward Robert, "Ser Jaime," another nod toward the knight. He was stalling and everyone in the room knew it. "It is my belief that the child, the Princess, was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Jaime asked, echoing the maester's words. "But who would do that? Why the only person who has been alone with her this entire date is the Queen. She wouldn't -" he stopped, unable to defend his sister honestly. He wanted to say that his sister would never be able to poison her daughter, but then he remembered that in the three days since Lenora had been born Cersei had not been able to look at her daughter.

"Without knowing what poison was used I am unable to cure the child," the maester was telling the King. Jaime could not stand there and listen to how Grand Maester Pycelle could not help the child though. He quickly turned and stormed out of the child's nursery, ignoring the maester's call of "Ser Jaime?" as he left.

It was easy to find Cersei, with the exception of when he had seen her in the child's nursery that afternoon she hadn't left her bedchamber since the birth of her daughter. The guards in front of her doors knew better than to try to stop Jaime from entering, but the servants inside the chambers made noises of surprises and displeasure to see him there at this time of night. Cersei did not seem surprised to see him though. She was sitting calmly in front of the fire reading a book when he let himself into her rooms.

She gave him an almost serene smile as she closed her book, her hand between the pages, saving her place. "Have you come to tell me that my daughter has died?" she asked her brother, her tone almost hopeful. It was then that Jaime was sure that his suspicions had not been misplaced, Cersei had attempted to poison her own daughter. And if they took very much longer she would very likely succeed.

"Not yet," Jaime told her, moving closer to her. He was moving slowly, cautiously, as if Cersei were a wounded animal that was extremely dangerous. "She's a fighter, your daughter. Stronger than she looks. She's trying to beat this. We could help her, if only you'd tell us what you used to poison her."

Cersei's green eyes brightened, she hadn't expected her brother to jump to the correct conclusion so quickly. And she most certainly had not expected him to want to save the useless child. "So you know," she breathed. "Clever boy. No, I won't tell you what I used, you must figure that out on your own if you want to save the little wench so badly."

Jaime stared at his sister, as if he was seeing her for the first time in his life. Cersei might have been content to let her daughter die, but he was not. Once again he spun on his heel and left the chamber without a word. On his way back to the child's nursery he thought of the small Princess's symptoms. Vomiting, diarrhea, she was having trouble breathing, her heart beat was irregular, and the fever. Of course the fever, the small child was on fire. What did all of those add up to? "Wolfsbane!" That was the word he used to announce his presence in her chamber again as he strode back over to the baby's cradle. "She was poisoned with Wolfsbane."

The maester looked at him for a moment, his eyes moving rapidly as he thought through all the Princess's symptoms and came to the same conclusion as Jaime. "Of course," the old man murmured, "It's the only poison that makes sense." He turned to one of the nurses, "Go to my stores," he ordered her. "Bring me henbane, belladonna, and charcoal. We will need it all to save the Princess."

...

The sun rose to fine Jaime standing on the balcony outside of the Princess's nursery watching the ships sailing in and out of the busy harbor. He had always loved to watch the ships when he was a child at the Rock. They were still as comforting now.

He was having trouble reconciling the sister he loved with the woman who had condemned her own child to a painful death for simply being born a daughter. He had always known that Cersei could be cruel, but this was a new level.

Lenora was doing better. Thanks to the Grand Maester she had made it through the night and was getting stronger every minute. He had not been lying when he told Cersei that he daughter was strong. But she could not be left alone with her mother anymore, that much was sure.

As much as he hated to admit it, it was time to go talk to his father.

-.-.-.-.-

Tywin

It did not surprise him when Jaime came to see him. He had known that his son was intelligent, it had not taken either of them very long to realize that Cersei had poisoned her own daughter and left her to die. What neither of them could figure out was why she had done it.

Jaime walked into Tywin's chambers without allowing anyone to announce his presence, but Tywin was already waiting for him. Without saying a word the elder Lannister poured each of them a goblet of his strongest Dornish wine and took a seat, gesturing that Jaime should do the same.

They both sat in silence for a moment, drinking the wine, waiting for the other to start the difficult conversation. After a few minutes Jaime had finally had enough with the silence. "She poisoned her own daughter," he told his father, turning to look at the older man, silently asking for advice. "Since the day Lenora was born Cersei has been unable to even look at her, she was so disappointed at having a daughter instead of a son. She can't even see the child, but she tried to poison her. You should have seen her, Father, when I confronted her, there was no remorse. She is not sorry for what she did." He paused and shook his head, "She'll do it again," he admitted, his deepest fears. "If given the chance she will do it again."

"She will," Tywin told his son with a nod. "Your sister, for all her intelligence and cunning can be very short-sighted. When she found out the child was a daughter all she could see was that she had failed to produce an heir for the Iron Throne. She did not see all the prospects and good a daughter provides. She still does not. The girl is not safe in the palace until your sister has a son."

"So you will send her away then," Jaime replied, it was not a question. He knew that his father was already planning to send the Princess away, whether the King liked it or not. The only question was where she would be sent. "To be a ward. Where will you send her? Surely not North to the Starks. Nor East to the Vale. South to Highgarden?"

Tywin shook his head, "She'll go West, to the Rock." He told his son, glancing at the young knight in front of him and wondering when he would realize what his father had planned. "I've already spoken to the King and we think that it would be best if she stayed with her family."

"But there is no one at the Rock besides Tyrion and he is but a boy himself, only fifteen. And in his condition he cannot be expected to take care of a child." He watched as Jaime's eyebrows knitted together, trying to figure out his father's plan. "Oh," he murmured once he had figured it out.

Tywin nodded. "You will ride west with her. You will leave the Kingsguard until such a time as it is safe for her to return to Kings Landing. You will raise her at the Rock, not necessarily as your own, she must always know who her parents are, and what she is. She must never know what her mother did to her. No one can know that. We've already spread the word that a servant tried to poison her, in the name of the Targaryens. The people will believe that. They will believe that we have taken her away from Kings Landing to protect her from would-be assassins, no one will no.

Jaime looked at his father, ready to argue. He loved the small child already, cared for her. He had wanted to protect her, but that did not mean that he had wanted to be the one to raise her. That did not mean that he had wanted to be the one to raise her. "Father," he argued, shaking his head. "My place is not at the Rock. My place is here, in Kings Landing. My place is beside -" he paused, he was about to say his sister's name, he corrected himself with a slight shake of his head, "Robert, the King."

"Your place is where I and the King see fit," Tywin all but roared at his son. "And at this time we see it fit that you travel to Casterly Rock to protect the Princess."

He left little room for argument, and within the day his son would leave with the Princess and a small guard to protect them along the Gold Road as they road for Casterly Rock.

Author's Note:

There we go! Chapter one. And we finally have our main character and OC, Lenora.
Don't worry, she will not be a baby for long. The story will progress quickly.
Speaking of progression, just so you guys know now I will be playing with the ages of some of the main characters. In Book one Robb is like fourteen. That seems really young for the adult content I may or may not have planned for him.
So, I'm going to play with that a little bit. Hopefully you guys don't mind too much.
Please review! Review love lets me know I'm doing something right and may or may not persuade me to update faster ... just saying.
See you guys back here soon!
Much love,
Chloe Jane.