Please R&R. I also would like to hear about your opinions on Denerys, I have honestly no idea of what I'm gonna do with her…

Margaery was holding her stillborn son in her arms, and she couldn't take her eyes off him. She had cried, a lot, and yelled with pain, with physical and mental pain, when she had to deliver the baby. Deep inside, she knew he could not have survived. But, still, she hoped that he cried. The silence that followed his birth broke her heart. The sorry look Gilly, the wildling who helped her deliver, had made her hated her, and immediately felt bad for it. It was not this girl's fault. Maester Cressen had come to see her when she had washed. She was already holding the baby in her arms. He had tried to talk to her but she could not answer. She had not said a word since that happened. Servants proposed her food and drinks, but she was not hungry, or thirsty. She did not feel anything except emptiness. Margaery did not know how long had passed: Stannis had not come to see her. She slightly smiled looking at her baby: somehow, he was monstrous. Somehow, he looked like Stannis. He was very little and very skinny, he was not bigger than Master Cressen's palm, when he held him. But he was perfectly formed: ten fingers, ten toes, a nose, two eyes, he had everything, everywhere. She could even see dark down on his skull: if he had lived, he would have been with hair. With dark hair, as every Baratheon. She wondered how Stannis looked like when he was born, and suddenly eyed the door: part of her wanted him to come in, part of her wanted never to see him again. She knew Cressen, and Davos had tried to talk to him but it had been useless. She remembered how he looked at her, how disappointed he was. She felt a knock in her stomach and a brutal and intense pain in her breasts: she gasped and looked down. Her tunic was drenched on her chest; she could see her nipples through the fabric. She undid the laces, not understanding what was happening and then she saw. She saw milk flooding from her breasts. She cried out for help: she did not know what to do, she did not understand why she was having milk when her baby was dead, she did not understand her body's reaction. The door opened but it was not a servant or Cressen who came in. Stannis did. She gasped again when she saw him and covered her chest with her tunic. She was ashamed, ashamed that he saw her like that, vulnerable, weak, tears running on her cheeks, milk flooding from her breasts and drenching her clothes, her belly, even the sheets of her bed. He did not say a word. He walked to her and sat by her side. She was looking away, still holding the baby. Stannis took her chin between his thumb and his forefinger and made her look at him. She felt the beatings of her heart speeding up brutally and she closed her eyes so tight she thought she could split her eyelids.

"Look at me".

It was an order. She let out a loud sob and shook her head frenetically. He grabbed her chin harder, almost hurting her, and repeated:

"Look at me."

She whimpered:

"Leave me alone. Leave me alone."

As if the baby could comfort her, she held it tighter and closer from her chest.

"I have to take the baby. Snow says we have to burn him."

There were no emotions in his voice, no pain, no anger. Nothing. She could have thought he was talking about a piece of wood. She ended up opening her eyes and stared at his: he stared back.

"You're not feeling anything?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Selyse had several stillborns. I am used to it", he coldly said.

"I… I'm sorry… I… I did nothing wrong… I was having this dream and… Forgive me… Forgive me…" she cried.

"There's nothing to forgive. Those things happen. Especially to me", he answered wearily.

She wiped away her tears, anger replacing pain and sorrow:

"How dare you? It did not happen to you! It happened to me! You have no idea how it is… How it feels… To know… To know he's dead… And you still have to push him out of you! You still pray for a miracle! You still hope that he lives! Don't say it happened to you! It happened to me! Only me!"

He kept staring at her, his jaw clenched, grinding his teeth. When she stopped shouting and that she started crying again, he calmly said:

"Give him to me."

She pulled the dead baby closer and shook her head frenetically.

"Margaery", he sighed. "Give me the baby."

"I can't!" she cried.

He lost patience: he had never been patient. And now, in the middle of the yells, the tears, the whimpers, he felt like his head was going to explode and that he could not stay by her side. He couldn't stand this situation anymore. Yes, he had to burn this baby, and to forget about him. Margaery should do the same. She was young, she could get pregnant again easily. Someone knocked on the door and he spat, angry:

"What?"

"Can I come in, your Grace?"

It was Jon Snow's voice. He stood up and went open the door:

"She doesn't want to let the baby go", he told Snow, not really knowing why.

Jon nodded:

"Can I talk to her? Alone", he precised.

Stannis nodded and left the room. He waited in the corridor for a few minutes. No more yells, no more cry. When Jon got out, he glanced at Stannis and left. Stannis followed him:

"What did she say?"

"She wants a drawing of the baby. We have a young man, who's very gifted. I'm fetching him."

Stannis grabbed his arm to stop him:

"She is insane. You said we had to burn the baby."

"It's her first-born. She'll never forget him, your Grace. You neither."

Jon moved away and left.

Stannis was in the room as the boy was drawing. No one was talking, Margaery had stopped crying. When he was done, the man gave the drawing to Margaery and bowed. She slightly smiled looking at it:

"Thank you", she softly said and gave the baby away.

Stannis did not leave with the man. He sat by Margaery again. Her slight smile disappeared right away and she moved away from him.

"It was her."

Stannis gave her an inquiring look:

"What?"

"Your red whore killed my baby."

She was saying this with a surd voice. Stannis stood up:

"She is no whore."

Margaery laughed. An angry, bitter laugh:

"She has killed our baby and you are still defending her. What king of husband are you? What kind of king?"

He clenched his jaws:

"Do you have any proofs?"

She remained silent and he glared at her:

"You can't accuse someone without proofs."

"I know it's her. I know it."

"Why would she do that?" Stannis asked as calmly as he could, while he was boiling with rage from inside.

"I think she loves you. I think she wants to be your queen."

"Nonsense", he groaned and walked away. His hand was on the handle when she spoke again:

"Now you have to choose. Me or her."

He turned to her: her face was not angry or sad anymore. Her eyes narrowed and she stared back at him. He knew she was serious. He looked down and walked out of the room.