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Jamie

It had been five years since he had truly lived in Kings Landing. In those five years he and Lenora had truly made Casterly Rock their home. Her toys filled the rooms; her school books filled his study; her tiny pony was stabled with his large charger; her tiny, dirty, child fingerprints marked the walls; her footsteps echoed through the halls; her laughter filled the castle.

The castle at Casterly Rock had been built into a natural rock formation over a large and successful gold mine over six thousand years ago. And as far as Jaime was concerned the castle had never been filled with as much happiness as it was now, with Lenora there.

The small Princess bewitched everyone she met, from stable boy to King. Even Lord Tywin had been unable to maintain his usual stoney silence and courtly manners around the young girl the last time they had visited the Red Keep at Kings Landing. Robert seemed to love the young brunette more than anything, and her residence at Casterly Rock meant that the King traveled West much more than he might have if she had been able to stay with her parents in the capital.

The only one who seemed to be able to withstand Lenora's magic was Cersei. The older the child got the harder it was for her mother to ignore her, but when Cersei looked at the child it was still not as a mother should look at her child. Cersei still saw her failure every time she looked at the young princess, her inability to produce a male heir for the Iron Throne.

Not that she had been trying too hard from what Jaime could tell. In the five years since he and Lenora had fled Kings Landing Cersei still had yet to produce a true heir for Robert. Not for lack of trying, at least on the King's part. The last time he had seen Robert the King had confided in him that he and Cersei had sex almost nightly, trying to conceive. He knew she was not barren, she had birthed Lenora, and he knew that there was nothing wrong with him, he had almost half a dozen bastards running or crawling around Kings Landing. It simply was not happening for them. What he did know was that Cersei had been with child several times over the last five years; but each time, out of spite for Robert, she had found a way to kill the child before anyone even realized that she was pregnant.

This child was different, the one she was pregnant with now. She was sure that it was Jaime's and she had been unable to kill it. They, he and Lenora, would be traveling to Kings Landing for the birth once it was closer to her time. Jaime prayed to the Seven almost every night that the child in his sister's womb would be a boy. Gods knew that the kingdom needed a male heir for the Iron Throne. And once Cersei and Robert had a male heir it would be safe for Lenora to return to Kings Landing to live instead of visit.

He clenched his fists when he thought of Cersei. He was still angry at her, for attempting to poison Lenora. He was still disgusted that she could do that to a child simply because they child had the misfortune of being born a daughter. But he could not turn away from his sister. He still loved her. He could still remember how she had felt the last time he had seen her - writhing underneath him, wrapped all around him. All silky skin and silky words.

She had told him how she couldn't bear to have Robert touch her. How she hated her husband. How she had to pretend that she was having sex with him, her brother, just to get through the act with her husband. And Jaime had let those words convince him to take his sister for his own, as he had once done on a daily basis while they were growing up at the Rock.

The difference was that this time it had felt wrong. Before Cersei had always been able to convince him that they were right for each other. They were twins, after all, two halves of a whole. There was no one in the world that would have been more right for him than his sister. Or so he had once felt. But now, now that he had seen the real Cersei, the one who was willing to kill her own child. And every day as he watched Lenora grow more and more into her own intelligent, strong willed, beautiful person he realized what a crime that would have been. He had done the deed because he believed that he still loved his sister, but he had felt dirty afterward. He had felt as if he had betrayed his niece. As if the act of being with her mother in that sense would cause harm to the beautiful child that he had been raising for the past five years.

And she had grown into a beautiful child. She was still small, smaller than the children of Lannisport that were her age. She was fragile and dainty looking, breakable. But when one looked into her eyes they could not help but notice the strength she held inside. She had kept the grey eyes she had been born with; they seemed to change with her mood - silver, like the crescent moon or wisps of cloud at twilight when she was happy; glinting, like polished steel when she was annoyed; a dark grey, the color of the stormy sea when she was sad; gathering storm clouds when she was angry. Her dark brown hair was wild, already past her shoulders in loose, natural curls. She refused to let her maids and ladies do her hair, she preferred to let it fly behind her in a tangled mess as she ran through the castle. She was stubborn to a fault, a true Baratheon through and through despite her upbringing at the Rock.

She was a beautiful, fearsome thing to behold now, Jaime could only guess at what a handful she would be once she grew into womanhood. He shook his head, smiling at the thought that he was for once glad that Lenora was not his child. She would most certainly be a handful when she was older, but thankfully she would not be his problem. Much as he loved the child, much as he would do anything for her, he was not her father. Robert would be the one who would have control of her once she was older. He could only imagine the fights and disagreements that would shake the Red Keep once Lenora was of age and back under her father's charge again.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a loud, clanging noise coming from the tilt yard. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed at the noise. None of the Red Guard or the squires were meant to practicing in the tilt yard that day. He wondered at what was going on, but only for a moment before he heard a high pitched squeal and a curse. Then he took off running through the hall toward the yard.

The sight he was greeted with upon entering the tilt yard caused him to stop in his tracks. Not from anger or fear though, instead he felt laughter bubbling up in his chest as his green eyes landed on his niece. Lenora had dressed one of the squire's sons in armor several sizes too large for the boy, the helm fell well past the boy's eyes. Lenora, herself, was resplendent in her dress of Lannister red and gold, though Jaime could already spot at least three new tears in the fabric that had not been there when the small child dressed that morning, and the fabric was covered in dirt. Her dark hair was flying behind her as she ran toward the young boy, Jaime's own large sword raised above her head, prepared to strike.

Jaime could only guess what the young princess was playing at. But he had a feeling that despite the armor and his assailant's small size any blow might cause actual physical pain to the young squire's son. He moved faster than Lenora, his legs were longer, his stride more sure, after all. He caught up with the small child easily, and despite the sword lifted over her head he easily caught her in his arms and scooped her up, carrying her across the yard and only placing her back down on the ground once they were a safe distance away from the squire's boy. Lenora made to lunge for the boy again, but Jaime placed himself between the two children and squatted down so that he was at eye level with his niece. "Lenny," was all he needed to say. After that he waited in silence for his young charge to explain herself.

"Seven Hells, Uncle Jaime," the young girl cursed at him, her eyes the dark grey of a truly bad storm. "Why did you stop me? We were not finished yet."

"Finished with what, exactly?" Jaime asked, glancing between the two children. The squire's boy took off his borrowed helm and opened his mouth to explain, to apologize. Jaime raised his hand, "I'll hear this from my niece, thank you," he told the young boy before turning his green eyes on Lenora. "What is this, Len?" he asked the young child, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders, silently telling her that she was not going anywhere until she told him what was going on.

She sighed, her small chest heaving with the effort of the breath as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking every bit Cersei when she didn't get her way. She looked so much like her mother that Jaime's breath caught, with her Baratheon looks it was easy to forget that she had Lannister blood running through her veins until she did something that was so much like Cersei. "I told Thomas that when I grew up I was going to become a member of the Kingsguard like you," she told her uncle, finally meeting his gaze with her grey eyes. "I told him that I was going to be a knight, strong and brave. He told me that I couldn't be a knight because I was a princess. I told him to be quiet, but he wouldn't. He said that even if I wasn't a princess I would never be able to be a knight because I was not strong enough. I told him that I was too strong enough. I told him that I would be able to cut him down, even with armor on, with no more than seven strikes," Jaime's lips quirked up into an unbidden smile at the random number of strikes, and at the fact that his niece held up eight fingers to signify her seven strikes.

"And how many strikes did you get?" he asked her.

"Only three," the young girl pouted.

Jaime glanced over at the young boy who was struggling his way out of his borrowed armor. "Thomas, is it?" he asked the boy. The child nodded, silently, in awe of being addressed by the Kingslayer. Jaime nodded, "Thomas, I believe that my niece has well and truly demonstrated just how strong she is. You would do well to remember that. You would also do well to remember that you are addressing the Princess of Westeros when you speak to her. I would not tempt her to injure you if I were you, as she has much more power to hurt you than you will ever have over her. Do you understand me?"

The boy nodded and all but tripped over himself in an attempt to run away from Jaime. Once they were alone Jaime turned to his niece and took her hand, "Come," he told the young child, taking his sword out of her grip easily and steering her out of the tilt yard, "let's you and I go for a walk on the beach, shall we?"

-.-.-.-.-

Lenora

She couldn't tell if her uncle was angry with her or not. Her uncle Tyrion would have been much easier to read. She knew that Tyrion would have found her fight amusing, that he would have let her finish her seven strikes before he took the sword away. Her uncle Jaime was harder though. She wanted to tell him that she had done nothing wrong, but that would have been a lie. Stealing her uncle's sword had been wrong. And fighting with Thomas had been wrong, even if it was to defend her honor.

She was a lady after all, and ladies did not fight. Ladies sewed, and ladies painted, and ladies played instruments, and ladies were quiet and well behaved. The problem was that Lenora was so bad at all of those things. She would much rather be out of doors at sword play, or horseback riding than she would like to be indoors doing all the things that proper ladies were supposed to do. It was hard because she thought that being a lady seemed boring, but at the turn of the coin she wanted to be good at everything and please her uncle. She couldn't do both.

She felt tears start to fill her eyes and scrunched her face up in anger, angry that she was crying over this. Only stupid girls cried. And according to both of her uncles she was not a stupid girl.

"Why the tears?" her uncle asked her, he stopped walking along the sand and knelt in front of her, dropping his sword into the sand so that he could take both of her small hands in his and meet her eyes. "There is no reason for tears, my sweet. I have not even begun to punish you."

Lenora pulled one of her hands free from her uncle's grasp so that she could swipe angrily at the tears that were sliding down her cheeks. Jaime waited patiently until she was done and had slipped her hand back into his grasp. And then he raised his eyebrows, silently waiting for an explanation.

"I've disappointed you," Lenora sobbed out. "I was supposed to be at my dancing lesson, I was supposed to be a good young lady. And instead I snuck out of the castle to ride Pepper," Jaime's lips quirked up into a smile at the name of his niece's pony. The pony wasn't even grey, she just liked pepper. Lenora was glaring down at her left shoe and did not notice her uncle's smile. "And Thomas was polishing armor in the tilt yard. He told me that one day it would be his job to make sure that your armor was always bright and shiny. I told him that maybe it would be his job to polish my armor, for I am going to be a knight like you when I grow up. And he laughed at me, Uncle Jaime. He laughed at me."

"He shouldn't have done that," Jaime murmured, shaking his head with mock seriousness, something that was lost on his young niece.

"No he shouldn't have," Lenora agreed, stamping her tiny foot in the sand, and then stamping it again, not satisfied by the lack of noise her stamp had made. "He mocked me, I had to defend my honor. You always say that honor is the most important thing a person can have in this world. And he was mocking mine. I had to defend it, you see? I had to. So I snuck back into the castle and I stole your sword. I wanted to show Thomas exactly what happens to those who mock the Lannister family."

Jaime laughed, "But you're not a Lannister, my little fawn," he told her gently, "you are a Baratheon."

"Fine," Lenora muttered, switching her glare to the other foot, "then I wanted to show him exactly what happens to those who mock the Baratheon name." She paused for a moment, "I am the Princess of Westeros and regardless of my name I am not to be mocked."

"No you are not," Jaime agreed, sitting down in the sand, dirt on his pants be damned, he pulled his small niece into his lap and wrapped his arms around he small body, pulling her as close to him as he could. "But as the Princess of Westeros you are also expected to be gentle and kind and forgiving. Thomas is only a squire's son, he cannot be expected to always know how to speak to a Princess. It is your job to show him. And stealing my sword and attempting to cut him down is not the correct way to do that. Do you understand me?"

Lenora thought for a moment and then she nodded, silently telling her uncle that she understood him. She buried her face in her uncle's chest, inhaling his familiar scent and feeling herself calm down. Jaime was not satisfied though, "Do you understand me, Lenora?" he asked her again, his tone making it clear that he expected a verbal answer.

"Yes, Uncle Jaime, I understand," Lenora told him. She was quiet for a moment and then came the question that Jaime had known would come since he had caught her in the tilt yard with his stolen sword. "Are you going to punish me?"

He sighed, he hated punishing his niece, but it was also his job at the moment to ensure that she grew up into a kind, noble woman, one who knew her place in the world. He couldn't do that if he allowed her to run wild throughout her childhood, beating up on squire's boys to defend her honor and the like. "You know that I will have to," he told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her windswept hair to soften the blow. "Your whipping boy will receive five strikes for this, you will eat your dinner alone in your chambers tonight, you will spend an extra hour with the maester for the next week, and," he smiled when he heard Lenora's gasp at the word and, this was already the biggest punishment he had ever given her. "And," he repeated, "we will see about getting you your own sword so that when you start your sword fighting lessons next week you will not have to steal mine."

"Really?" Lenora asked, her eye wide and bright, the light silver they were when she was happy. "Do you mean it, Uncle Jaime?"

Jaime smiled and nodded, "No niece of mine should grow up without some understanding of sword play," he told her. "Especially if that niece wants to grow up to be a knight."

...

The sword she was given was nothing like her uncle's, but she could not expect anything more. She was only five years old, after all, and the sword really was a beautiful thing, the most wonderful thing Lenora had ever owned. She named it Ashe, for the way it glinted grey in the light like her eyes.

She was only allowed to use it during her sword fighting lessons when she was working on a solo drill or if she was sparring with her uncle. She tried not to let it hurt her feelings that he was easily able to deflect her advances with Ashe even when he was using a simple wooden play sword.

But she was so grateful at him for helping her, for teaching her. And she was amazed at how easy it was for her to pick up sword play. It wasn't so much different from dancing after all. She wondered at why every lady didn't learn sword play if it was so similar to dancing. Her uncle Tyrion had thrown his head back and laughed heartily when she had mentioned it to him. He had called her a clever girl and she had beamed at him, proud of his praise.

Her uncle Jaime was less generous with his praise when it came to her sword fighting lessons with him. He wanted her to be absolutely perfect, just as good as him. Anything less than that and it was not good enough.

"No, no," her uncle told her, shaking his head and stepping away from her with his wooden sword. "What have I told you, Lenny? An empty fade is when you leap backwards as if to run away from my strike, but then to immediately leap forward again and strike at me. Do not keep leaning back, do not add a war cry, that only tells me that you are coming, do not pause. If you pause during a fight that means certain death."

Lenora nodded, she was tired, and hot, and sweaty. The shirt and pants her uncle had borrowed from one of the maid's sons were covered in dirt. Her arm hurt from holding Ashe up in her fighting stance for so long. And she knew there were bruises covering her arms and legs where her uncle had hit her with his wooden sword. Just because she was a princess did not mean that her uncle was going to take things easy on her, if anything it meant that he expected more from her. She lifted her right arm back up, finding her fighting stance. She smiled a bit at the nod of pride her uncle gave her before he lunged toward her again with the practice sword.

She leapt back one, two graceful steps, just out of his reach and then as he prepared to lunge for her again she leapt forward, without a war cry this time, and struck him with the flat, side of her blade. She knew that he was moving slower, to accommodate for her small size and inexperience, but it felt good, this was the first hit she had gotten on her uncle since he had started teaching her.

She did not miss the look of approval on her uncle's face after that. She smiled up at him and reached up one of her hands to push her hair out of her eyes. "What now, Uncle?" she asked him. Now that she had succeeded at something she was ready and willing to learn more.

"Now for your daily guard drill," her uncle told her. These were always Lenora's favorites. Her uncle had told her that the best offense in a sword fight was to understand and excel at guards. Each day she and her uncle ran through this drill she got faster and better, more sure of herself ... stronger. "Ready?" Jaime asked her.

She stepped away from him and nodded, she held her sword in front of her in both hands and took a deep breath in, preparing herself for all the work that was to come. "Ready," she told him.

"Guard of the woman," Jaime barked out, waiting only a few moments for his niece to find the correct position before he continued on. "Boar's Tooth, Window guard, Half Iron Gate, Front Guard, Left Short Guard, Tail Guard, Left Guard of the woman, Full Iron Gate, Left Two Horn, Long Point, Left Window, Short Guard, Left Front Guard, Two Horn Guard, Left Long Guard, stop!"

The entire drill had only lasted at most two minutes, but Lenora was out of breath. She dropped Ashe to the ground and placed her hands on her knees, folding in over herself to try to catch her breath. Jaime moved closer to her and stood her up straight, "It's easier to breathe while standing straight than folded over," he told her, though he wasn't looking at her, his gaze was up at the sky at the dark raven that was flying surely toward the castle. "I think we are finished for the day. Go get yourself cleaned up and then we shall see to that raven, shall we?"

Lenora nodded, enjoying that her uncle let her take part in adult things like ravens. Her uncle smiled down at her and gently tapped her on her behind with his wooden sword, "Very good, my Lady," he told her, giving her a low, deep bow. Lenora smiled up at her uncle before she sank into an equally deep curtsy. "Very lady like," her uncle told her, his voice approving, "even in your borrowed breeches."

...

Lenora could not hide her excitement. The raven was a letter from her father at Kings Landing. It was time fore her mother to go into her confinement. The baby would be born soon. And they were to ride at once for the capital.

The king wanted his daughter at the Red Keep for the birth of her baby brother or sister.

Her uncle Jaime told her that if the baby was a son that they might even be able to live at the Red Keep again.

Lenora hoped the child was a boy.

-.-.-.-.-

Robert

Robert could not stop the smile that spread across his lips as the Casterly Rock party dismounted in the courtyard in front of the palace at Kings Landing. His daughter, the bright and stubborn child that she was, had refused to ride in the wheelhouse that had been provided for her for the journey. According to the scouts who had arrived at the castle an hour before the party she had announced that if her Uncles Jaime and Tyrion could ride the entire way to Kings Landing than she would too.

And here she was, in the courtyard waiting for Jaime to bring over her stool so that she could climb down off her pony, Pepper. Why Jaime or anyone else had let her name the snow white pony, Pepper Robert would never know. But there was something special about the pair. Instead of bringing over a stool Jaime had walked over to her pony and scooped the tiny princess up in his arms. He spun her around in a few tight circles, smiling widely at the giggles that earned him before he set her down on the ground. "My Lady," Robert heard Jaime say as he bowed low to the tiny princess.

"Rise, Ser Jaime," he heard his small daughter order. Once Jaime had risen Lenora curtsied to him, her black gown with gold accents, Baratheon colors, though dirty from the road, made her look more grown up than she truly was. Jaime caught sight of Robert over the girl's shoulder and knelt down so that he could whisper something in Lenora's ear, pointing to the King. Lenora looked over her shoulder and caught sight of her father as well. Her eyes got even wider and she turned back to Jaime, jumping up and down slightly and clapping her hands together excitedly while whispering into his ear. Jaime looked at her for a moment before he sighed and stood up, moving toward his horse and reaching into his saddle bag, pulling out a small box and handing it to the young girl.

Once Lenora had her hands on the box she gathered her skirts in her hands and began to run up the stairs, toward where the King stood waiting for her on the balcony. Jaime laughed at her and took the stairs two at a time, easily catching up with the young girl. It was clear that Lenora was going to launch herself into her father's arms, but Jaime stopped her with a simple, "Len," quietly reminding her of her place.

She glanced back at her uncle for a moment before she turned back to her father. She paused and then sank down into an even deeper curtsy than the one she had given Jaime in the court yard. "Your Highness," she started once he had raised her from her curtsy. "How good it is to see you again. I have prayed every day to the seven for your health and that of my mother's," Robert's heart tightened at the thought that his sweet daughter was praying for Cersei's health when if that bitch had gotten her way the child would have never lived more than a few days. He caught Jaime's eyes over the top of his daughter's head and he realized that the thought pained his brother in law as well. That surprised him. But he couldn't say anything yet because Lenora was not done with the speech that she had so clearly practiced repeatedly on the ride to Kings Landing. "I have prayed many times to the Mother that my mother will deliver us a boy, and heir, and that I might come live with you again, if it pleases your majesty. And," she paused to take a deep breath here before continuing, "I have a gift for you, Your Grace. If it pleases you," she held out the small box, offering it up to the King.

Robert chuckled and shook his head at his small daughter before he took the box from her hand and holding it in one hand, scooped her up with the other. "It pleases me greatly, my daughter, both your gift and to have you here, back in Kings Landing where you belong." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and began to walk into the castle, still holding the small girl in his arms. "Now what did you bring me?"

"Handkerchiefs," she told him, turning in his arms so that she could face him and resting her left arm against his shoulder. "Three of them. I embroidered them myself." Robert started to thank her, but she was already waving off his gratitude, "They're not very good," she told him. "I'm better at sword fighting than I am at embroidery."

"Sword fighting, hmm?" Robert asked, turning his had to look over his shoulder at Jaime. The knight shrugged, but did not look ashamed of himself. Robert supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised that Jaime would teach his daughter how to fight, he was the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. And with the way of the world right now it might not hurt for Lenora to be able to defend herself.

"Oh yes," Lenora told him, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Uncle Jaime has been teaching me. He even gave me my own sword. I've named it Ashe, because it's a grey silver like our eyes. I know all the guards. I can't beat Uncle Jaime yet, but I have beaten Uncle Tyrion in several sword fights and I don't even think he was going easy on me." Robert had to laugh at her child-like lack of modesty. She was proud of her sword fighting and she clearly wanted him to be proud of her too.

"You'll have to show me," he told her with a smile. "Once you're settled."

Lenora smiled and nodded, happily to him. "And maybe once my baby brother or sister is old enough I can teach them too?"

"Perhaps, my Princess," Robert told her, leaning down so that he could press a kiss to the tip of her nose. "But for now let's worry about seeing your mother and getting you settled. For tomorrow night, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Lenora asked, her voice getting a higher pitch in her excitement. "For me?"

"Yes, for you, my fawn," Robert told her with a grin. "But first, to see your mother!"

"Oh!" Lenora gasped, clapping her hands together. "I have handkerchiefs for Mother too!" She spun around in his arms so that she was facing the hallway behind them, her grey eyes searching for her uncle. "Uncle Jaime!" she hollered once she caught sight of him. "My handkerchiefs for Mother! Do you have them?"

Robert could not but laugh at his daughter's boisterous yelling. She was his true daughter, that much as for sure. What was also certain was that she was going to be a handful if she were to stay in Kings Landing.

-.-.-.-.-

Cersei

She was fuming. Of course Robert would do this while she was in confinement, while she could do nothing to stop him. He knew how she felt about the Starks, and he was going to do it anyway. He was going to give her daughter to them.

Here she was, fighting for her life, going through the birthing pain again, hoping this time to give the King a son and he was down in the Great Hall selling his daughter to those Northerners. Without her permission. She may have gone through a moment of insanity right after her daughter was born, a moment where she had tried to kill the babe. But now, now that she was sure she had a son in her womb she would learn to love the child. And whether she loved the child or not the girl was still her blood, her daughter. She could not be sent to the cold, bitter North, so far away from her family.

But Robert had not listened to any of her arguments. He had yelled at her that he was the King and he would do as he damn well saw fit with his daughter. He told her that it was daughter's did, marry into other noble families. She understood that, but must he marry her to that family, that far away from Kings Landing.

But here she was in confinement while her husband and Ned Stark were down in the Great Hall making the announcement without her.

She waited. He would come to her after the dinner, he had to.

And he did, two hours after the feast had ended, he came to her stinking of wine and ale. "You sent for me, my love?" he asked her, his voice sounding bitter and disdainful. She rolled her eyes, her husband always got like this with her, especially when he drank. Which seemed to be every night, at least since the day Lenora was taken to Casterly Rock.

"How did the feast go?" she asked, her voice as icy as the Northern wind in the god forsaken land he wanted to send their daughter to.

Robert smiled, "Very well. The match is a good one, and bodes well for our families. I don't know how the children felt about it, but they are both so young I suppose it does not make sense to them." He shrugged, "They'll have a few years yet before they need to understand what being betrothed means."

"Why are you doing this?" Cersei asked, her tone bitter.

"Because it a good match," he told her. "House Stark is one of the oldest in the Seven Kingdoms, and certainly the most loyal. Ned has a son who is close to Lenora's age, just a year older. I think they will suit each other."

"They're but five years old," Cersei pointed out, "We don't know how they'll grow up. We don't know if they'll be a good match. We do not even know how our own daughter will grow up, let alone how the Stark boy will. We cannot make decisions about her future so early!"

"Ah yes," Robert breathed, his voice quiet, almost deadly. Cersei had stepped into a trap, she was just unsure of what it was or how to get out of it. "We should not make choices about our daughter's life when she's so young. Five years is very young, much to young to be making decisions about her future. I suppose it's not much better than, say, attempting to poison her when she is all, but three days old."

She should have known that he would throw this back at her. He always did this, every time they spoke about Lenora. It was as if he was trying to hurt her. "I was eighteen years old!" she defended. "I was much to young and I was much too far away from home! I had just given birth to our child alone, because you were too busy getting drunk in every whorehouse in the city to get over her. And I had failed you, my one job was to give you a male heir and instead I had given you a daughter. I was half out of my mind, I didn't know what was happening. If you had been there it wouldn't have happened."

Robert nodded, his face solemn, "Poor Cersei," he said, his tone mocking. "Woe is she. She tried to murder my daughter, but none of it is her fault. And now she comes to me and pretends to have the child's best interest at heart just because she doesn't like the family I've chosen for her."

"I am the child's mother!" Cersei hissed, her face turning red with anger. "Of course I have her best interest at heart. I love her. I should have had a say in this betrothal. But you never asked for my opinion. You never asked for my counsel!"

"I am the King!" Robert roared, "I do not have to ask our opinion on anything, you wretched woman."

"You're setting her up for the same sad future that you gave me," Cersei warned him. "Alone. Far away from her family. Trapped. She'll turn out like I did."

Robert shook his head, "You may be right," he told his wife. "Five years old might be too young for me to know how she is going to grow up. But I do know one thing - you cannot look our daughter in those beautiful eyes of hers and honestly tell me that she will ever turn out like you. She has too much joy, too much sweetness, too much fire for that."

"I had all of those once too," Cersei told him, "before I was forced to marry you."

"Well then, hopefully she likes the Stark boy," Robert to her before spinning on his heel and heading out of the room. "But to tell you true, whether she goes happily or kicking and screaming they will be married once she is of age."

"This is not you and Lyanna!" Cersei screamed after her husband. "You cannot force them to fall in love just because you will it to. Just because you hope that, since you couldn't do it, your child will be able to marry and live happily in the North."

But she was screaming to an empty room. Robert had long since slammed the door and left her alone, as she always was.

-.-.-.-.-

Robb

He wasn't so sure. His mother and father seemed to think it was a good idea. And the King had seemed happy enough about it. But, the princess was a girl. And Robb was much too busy with his sword play and his studies and his baby sisters to be interested in a girl.

His father had told Robb to speak to her at the feast, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He didn't know what girls liked, Sansa could barely talk and all Arya did was drool. Girls liked to do things like sew, and dance, and play instruments.

Robb would rather run through the woods surrounding Winterfell with Jon and Theon and get dirty. And sit by his father's feet at the end of the day while his father polished Ice and told him about his day.

Robb wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do all those things once he was married. But he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to. He thought all fun stopped once you married a girl.

The princess was prettier than his sisters, he could see that.

But he still wasn't so sure.

Author's Note:

Publishing this while the Game of Thrones theme song is playing in my living room like some sort of timer.
Must post before the episode starts.
Thank you for reading. Please considering reviewing or I might need to stop throwing my heart and soul into this story.
Much love,
Chloe Jane