Dedicated to MoonBear2 thanks for your post on my message board, glad you are enjoying the story! And of course arosinska as you have demanded, here is your chapter. And to all my other dedicated readers!
Lord Eddard Stark walked down the halls of King's Landing with one trusted man at his side, using a cane for his injured leg. In this time, he didn't know who to trust after learning the secrets of the queen. He had prepared to return his family to Winterfell, but not before he could inform Robert of his betrayal and lack of heirs. He knew he had asked for more than he could bargain when he accepted this offer, and he knew the dangers falling to the Hand after Jon Arryn's death, but never had he expected it to be like this. If he had, he wouldn't have married his heir to the princess so soon.
When he was walking down the halls he was greeted with a the sounds of a a man running down the halls, Renly Baratheon, brother to Robert and lord of Storm's End. He was out of breath with blood and sweat on him. It was odd as his brother had last invited Renly to accompany him on his hunt. It immediately caused Ned to realize what had happen before seeing the true horror on Renly's face.
"Ned!" Renly called out, he stopped right in front of them, still trying to find his breath while trying to form sentences out of his panic. "It's Robert. We were hunting...a boar..."
He didn't need to say more before Ned followed him immediately to Robert's chambers.
There surrounding the king was Barristan Selmy and Maester Pycelle, to be expected of course. But what surprised him was to see Queen Cersei still standing there looking over the king as if she cared, as if his death saddened her instead of bringing her joy he was sure she experienced from seeing him in a weak state, and her bastard son sitting at the side of his supposed father's death bed. Ned remained quiet and allows them to finish, this was a death bed after all.
"I should have spent more time with you, shown you how to be a man." He looked at Joffrey. Robert really was a fool to believe that child was his, and child who shared none of his features. Perhaps drinking had made him blind, or he just stop caring enough to notice. He took a long pause. "I was never meant to be a father. Go on. You don't want to see this."
And just with that, a teary eyed false prince exited the room, perhaps even though he was not truly Robert's son, that boy did care about his false father. But Ned had no sympathy, concerning he gave Cersei time to escape with her children, and she clearly decided to stay and further endanger them.
Robert turned to Ned now. Poor confused Ned. The man who had been like a brother to him, more of a brother than either of his true brothers. The only man he could trust in the only kingdom. In a twisted way he was glad Ned was here now.
"My fault. Too much wine, missed my thrust," he explained, as though that made it better that Ned had to look at his dying friend knowing there is nothing he can do to help. "It stinks. It stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it," he complained loudly to the rest of the people in the room before turning back to Ned. "I paid the bastard back, Ned. I drove my knife right through his brain. You ask them if I didn't. Ask them! I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the Kingdoms ever saw. And I want everyone to taste the boar that got me." He laughed a twisted laugh before going silent and turning his head to the rest and barked, "Now leave us, the lot of you. I need to talk to Ned."
Cersei tried to argue otherwise, "Robert, my sweet..." probably fearful this would be the time Stark would reveal her truth.
Robert did not let her finish. "Out, all of you!"
On Robert's demand, everyone left except for Ned. As soon as the door shuts, Ned turned to Robert, who clutched a letter and looked up at him with dazed eyes. Ned could barely form a thought, let alone a goodbye. Not another goodbye.
"You damned fool," was all Ned could manage.
"Lyla would chide me of she was here now."
Ned didn't know the princess was the chiding type, especially to her father and the king. It honestly surprised him. What more was the regretful and sad tone in Robert's voice as he spoke of his eldest and only trueborn daughter.
"She would be sitting where you are, putting on a strong face and telling me how I should have known better. She is stubborn and strong, like all Baratheon women. Tries to seem like a sweet obedient doe, but she's a Baratheon all the same. Thought that would help her in the North."
It was so loving how Robert spoke. Reminded Ned the way he spoke and thought of Sansa or Arya. The way only a father can care for his daughter. He never thought Robert felt this way.
Robert held out a note. "She sent me this. I wish I had known sooner, or I would have been going up North again than to the Kingswoods just to see her again." Ned just looked at the paper and Robert looked annoyed as he shook the paper in front of him. "Go on, read it," he ordered.
Ned took the paper carefully and unfolded it.
For the eyes of Robert of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and The First Men, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,
Dearest father, while months have passed since I last saw you in Winterfell I know that a lot has changed in Westeros with rumors of a conflict between House Lannister and House Stark. While O have never talked politics for you, it had caused me to sleep difficultly at night believing that there may be people in the North who don't trust me because of my mother's house. But more so about the dangers of a possible war. I trust in you and the small council will be able to prevent a war before that can happen. I have always been able to trust you to keep me safe, and while being a woman grown, I would still like to continue believing that.
The reason that I have chosen to write you this letter myself is that I wanted you to hear it from my hand first. I am with child. I know how important it was for you father that we form a marriage alliance with House Stark and I thought that it would be beneficial for you to know that the alliance will produce an heir and your first grandchild. While I am still within the early months of child bearing, Maester Luwin assures me that everything appears to be healthy. I am excited at the prospect of motherhood, and I hope you and Lord Eddard are prepared to have a shared grandchild to bicker about next.
Adjusting to Winterfell has been harder than I imagined, but nothing that I can not handle on my own. I miss you though, dearly.
With all my love and affections,
Princess Lyla of the House Baratheon
Ned felt his heart sink into the bottom of his chest.
He was to be expecting a grandchild.
He looked at Robert who was booming with glee. There was something g twisted about how in the wake of Robert's death they were to receive this news that Robb and Lyla were expecting. He would almost have smiled if not for the tragic passing for his friend beside him.
"She's a good girl," Robert spoke up. "Lyla. She reminds me of my mother. Some say she's like her mother or me, but that's bullshit. She's my mother come again. Dutiful and smart, but not afraid to speak her mind. But always so kind and loving. I wanted to do one thing right as find her a good husband, someone worthy. The Tyrells are rich and the Martells would be a better alliance. But I trust no house more than that of House Stark. I hope she was is enough."
"More than enough," Ned spoke up. "The child will want for nothing. It will be proud of it's mother's House as well. I promise you that."
Robert smiled wistfully before returning to serious. He seemed to be getting weaker by the moment. "Paper and ink on the table, write down what I say." He ordered Ned while he complied and grabbed the paper from the desk and placed the note down. ""In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of..." you know how it goes. Fill in the damn titles. "I hereby command Eddard of House Stark" titles, titles. "To serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death. To rule in my stead, until my son Joffrey comes of age". Give it over." Robert grumbled.
Ned gave the paper to Robert, but rather than writing Joffrey, he wrote the rightful heir. He knew at the moment that Robert was dying, just learning he was to be expecting a grandchild, he could not tell him the truth about his other children's heritage. It seemed wrong to do so in his last moments. So he handed over the paper and quill to Robert to sign.
Robert quickly signed and handed it back to Ned. "Give it to the council after I'm dead. At least they'll say I did this right, this one thing. You'll rule now. You'll hate it worse than I did, but you'll do it well." Just as Ned prepared to leave, Robert quickly added, "the girl, Daenerys. You were right. Varys, Littlefinger, my brother. Worthless. No one to tell me "no" but you. Only you. Let her live. Stop it, if it's not too late."
He wondered if it was death bringing upon this new mercy from Robert, or maybe hearing his own daughter who was near the age of Daenerys Targaryen, was also with child just as she was. Whatever the reason, he was glad Robert had.
Ned nodded, "I will."
"And my son— Help him, Ned. Make him better than me."
"I'll," Ned was cut off with thought that this was his last chance to tell Robert the truth, but just couldn't bring himself to actually tell it to his face, and quickly said, "I'll do everything I can to honor your memory."
"My memory. King Robert Baratheon, murdered by a pig. Give me something for the pain and let me die."
~*****~
Lyla was a princess, something she had found herself needing to constantly reassure herself of constantly. When ever she was unsure of herself, there was always someone to remind her that she was a princess, but it was something she had a hard time reminding herself of. When she was a child and she would cry, her mother would end it immediately and remind her she was a princess and that a princess never cries. It was almost odd how Lyla found comfort in her mother's cutting words, she wondered if her mother would've comforted her now that she was with child herself, awaiting to be a mother herself.
Vorian was the closest she had to someone to talk to now that she no longer had her ladies, although she never spoke to them of intimate details as she was unsure where their loyalties lied. She had a friend in the Knight of The Flowers who enjoyed a courtly life, but often that was all they talked of. She wrote often to her only cousin, Shireen, but Lord Stannis refused to bring either Shireen nor his wife to court. Myrcella, and to a much lesser extent Tommen, could also be trusted to share insecurities with, but she wanted to pose as a strong older sister for them both, someone Myrcella could aspire to be and a protective older sister. She used to share everything with Fae, but that was a long time ago. Vorian was the only one she knew she could trust with all her secrets and council she could follow.
So once again she had gone to ask of council from Ser Vorian of what to do in her certain predicament, she had been hiding she was with child for some time on, almost coming upon a month. Her stomach had began to grow, although she could still hide it in her folds of her warm northern dresses. Vorian was bashful, probably uncomfortable talking about this with a girl he had known since she was just a child, but he still listened. Of course he told her what he should've, the noble choice:
"Talk to him. I am no saying forgive, just tell him and say what you want to say. You don't even have to listen to him. You are the princess and no one in the Seven Kingdoms has the right to make you feel that way."
She knew that was the answer the whole time, that she needed to speak to Robb about this, she couldn't keep this secret from him. She didn't want to keep this secret from him anymore. Lying to keep peace between people was something Lyla had been trained in since she was a child. To keep her mouth to keep everyone around her happy. It was what her septa always used to tell her. The wife's responsibility was to keep her husband happy, be a proper lady, and to bare him heirs.
Lyla had wanted to do so per her father's request. She wanted to when she met the Starks and saw that despite the North's harshness, they were a kind family. She wanted to when Robb kissed her for the first time with his warm lips, the first time she felt any warmth since crossing to the North. But she stopped the moment she learnt why he kept his distance. Although she had long forgotten why she was so mad. Was she still angry? He lied to her, of course she was hurt, but so much so she could never forgive him anymore? Of course not. She would. One day.
But she would forgive him enough to tell him about this child, it was just as much his child and it was hers. And no matter what she thought of him as a husband, she knew he would be a good father. She had seen the way his father was, closer to his children than hers ever was, and Robb was so kind yet firm with his younger brothers, he would be a great father. Even so, this child would be another heir to Winterfell if it was born a boy. Telling him was never out of the question, she always planned to, but now she had no choice but to do so now.
Lyla was in her chambers, she had finished eating alone by choice. Robb didn't ask why, he knew, and he had respected her enough to have given her distance when she had asked. She walked in circles as she prepared herself to go to Robb's chambers. She prepared herself with her composure, the last time she had lost herself in her righteous anger and after that was a crying mess, she wanted to be calm and collected like her mother taught her to be. She then tried to think of what she was going to say to her husband, what she could possibly say to him and how.
I am with child, was the first thing she thought of what to say. Simple and to the point. But she couldn't walk to his chamber and make such a bold announcement. She had to think of something to open with. Robb do you remember before all of this, I wasn't feeling too well. I went to Maester Luwin and learnt that I am with child. Simple. Just as the first one, but she wondered it it was too informal for this occasion with everything that had been happening between them, and more importantly between the Starks and Lannisters. Robb, there has been some distance between the two of us for some time. I didn't come here looking for an apology, I do not want one. I just came here to tell you the truth as well, because you deserve it. I have been with child for some time to now. There are still months to pass until its birth. I believe you should write to your father, mother, and sisters, and I shall inform the rest of my royal family.
After what felt like hours, that was the one she had decided she would go with. Not too kind but very respectable.
Lyla walked to the door of her chambers and revealed Ser Vorian standing there guarding as was his duty.
"I will be back in a moment, stay here and if anyone comes looking for me, I am asleep soundly," she informed him.
"Of course, my princess," he nodded, dutifully.
Lyla walked admittedly quickly to Robb's chamber. There was anxiety building in her as she hurried quickly. She tried to contain the composure she practiced in her room. Head held high, body moving light and gracefully, and a calm and stoic look on her face. She copied the way her mother had always presented herself when in court, the way she was taught a lady was supposed to. She supposed if her mother could always stand up to her father, then why would she be afraid to stand up to her own husband?
When she reached his door, every room in Winterfell wasn't guarded as they were in King's Landing, she supposed they were less afraid of being murdered in their sleep or attacked in the night. Good, it made it easier to walk about that way. She knocked on the door softly but gained more momentum so that he would be able to hear her. And so of course he did and she heard a voice call out that he was coming. Robb walked to the door and opened it, surprised to look down and meet the eyes of his wife, whom he had not held a conversation with in days and who often refused to look directly at him. But when she looked up at him this time, she lost all her composure completely.
"Lyla," he muttered.
The raven-haired princess was silent, not sure what to say anymore, as she forgot what she had practiced.
"Uh," she mindlessly uttered, "may I come in for a moment. I think we need to talk. No, I need to talk to you," she clarified.
He nodded correspondingly, "of course, come in."
Robb opened the door widely and allowed for the princess to enter. She looked around and remembered clearly the last time she was here. The last time she slept here. She turned around as Robb slowly closed the door and turned to face her, which caused her to play with her necklace as she became unsure if she should have come to talk with him this night, perhaps she should have waited longer to tell him the truth. No, it was too late to go back.
"Robb," she began, although took almost too long to follow with anything else, unsure of what else she could've said.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to yell at him for being another person in her life who always lied, or if she wanted to cry because she had almost convinced herself she was in love with a man who had lied to her. In truth it could've been either. At first she had tried blaming herself saying it was her fault for convincing that she could've fallen in love with him, she so desperately wanted to have a better marriage than her parents, and they were still better, Robb would never lay a hand on her. But she knew it wasn't all her fault for her expectations. He promised to meet them all, and while she never expected him to be perfect, she only ever asked that he would trust her and never lie.
"I have spent a long time thinking of what to say, if I should say anything at all. As a lady, as a princess, it is my duty to listen to my husband, and I always promised to be a dutiful wife to you. All I asked of you in return was that you be honest with me, because for my entire life I don't think my father has ever told my mother the truth, or even spoke to her of anything. I think that is one of the reasons their marriage is so sour, and I never wanted to have a marriage like theirs. If you dislike me, I would want you to tell me. If you want to share your bed with whores, so long as I am not the only one in Winterfell not to know. And anything else, so long as you talk with me, or at least not lie to me. It's all I want to ask of you Robb and then I will be content in this marriage."
Lyla didn't know what she was saying while she said it. All the practice she had spent preparing exactly what she wanted to say to Robb and exactly how she wanted to say it, but that didn't matter the moment she started talking, she just kept talking. She could hear it all afterwards and the way it sounded made her want to blush like a whore in a sept. But she didn't stop talking because it was all true, everything she spoke about was the complete truth. Everything she wanted to say come out, but not at all exactly what she needed to say, as there was so much more.
"That's why I wanted to start by telling you that, quite some time ago I learnt that I am with child. And I could have told you earlier, a part of me wanted to tell you to make it better, so we could forget our argument, but another part of me didn't want to tell you. I don't know why, it was idiotic to try and keep it a secret, but I was hurt. I have already notified my father in King's Landing that I am with child, but you can feel free to write to your family if you please, I would like to write to my mother and my siblings as well. So, even if you can never trust me because I am a Lannister, because your house and my mother's house are at a conflict, that is fine. I can even understood why. But I am carrying your child, and so we will have to learn to trust each other in some sense. I don't want to keep secrets."
And with that last breath, she had said everything she had wanted to say to Robb since she learnt she was with child. Lyla no longer had anything else to say, and even as she spoke, she stopped looking him in the eyes because she couldn't find the strength to do so. But she felt as though a weight had been taken off her the moment she finished her sentence. She sighed in relief as she was greeted by silence following her confession. So she took a moment to look up to be greeted by a very confused Robb Stark, so dumbfounded he could have been mistaken for Jon Snow. He started to open his mouth to speak this time, but instead nothing was coming out, just like her before.
"Y-your with child?" He stuttered.
She nodded nervously, forgetting this was the first she told him.
He covered his mouth with his hand, and started to almost start smiling and laughing. "With child," he repeated, gleefully.
Lyla was surprised by his response to her news, but not an unwelcome surprise. She was relieved that he was cheerful.
"Are you alright?" He asked, she was confused what he was asking before she concluded he meant her health.
"Yes, of course," she nodded.
"How long?" He asked.
"A few months," she responded.
Robb took the next few moments being silent, but with a smile on his face he was trying to stifle. Lyla knew why he would be glad, he had an heir, but she didn't expect him to be this happy, she almost wanted to laugh at how giddy he was.
Robb stopped smiling as he seemed to remember everything else she had been talking about prior. He took a deep breath and looked down at Lyla again, trying to be honest and serious.
"I don't want to give you pretty words like the men in King's Landing, because I broke a promise to you and that was dishonorable and I would never want to dishonor you, Lyla. I thought withholding the truth was different from lying, but I hurt you," he spoke, his northern accent very clear as day, back to all seriousness as he ever was before. "You don't have to forgive me. I won't ask you to, you never have to," he assured her, she nodded her head. Never was too much, but she appreciated not having have to forgive him. "I don't deserve to, but you were right. We have to talk. Not talking about what happened was torture. I don't want to lie to you again in anyway. If you want Lyla, then I will do everything you have asked me for."
Lyla nodded, "thank you for listening to me, Robb."
"Thank you for always being honest with me, Lyla."
She nodded as she felt anxious yet again as she didn't know what to say as she was about to walk away. Lyla just looked at him. She looked at those blue eyes and her lip almost started tugging up.
"I just realized fully that I am going to be a mother," she admitted, "it's all just a bit overwhelming."
"Are you worried about anything?" he asked.
"No, not anymore," she confessed, "I think that's why."
"You deserve to feel happy, Lyla," Robb assured her, "I am sure my father and sisters, especially Sansa, will be glad when I write them in the morning." He got a bit more serious in his tone as he got a bit closer to her, "I haven't been that happy since Bran fell."
"Robb," Lyla spoke again, "about Bran's fall. I have been thinking about it. Since that man came to kill Bran that night in his sleep, who could have wanted to hurt an innocent child. When you suggested it could be a Lannister, I didn't want to believe you out of loyalty to my family but I want to know if it could have been." Lyla looked down at her hands, "if you think he was pushed out of that tower and then paid an assassin to kill him in his sleep, I want to know if it could have been a member of my house and why they would have done it. I thought of all the motives. I thought of what could have been my uncles doing, but Tyrion would never hurt Bran, you heard him when he came to Winterfell and gave that saddle Bran loves so much."
"My mother only told me that she planned to warm my father in King's Landing, for whatever reason she had to assume it was Lord Tyrion and took him under her custody," Robb began before looking at her emerald eyes. "I agree with you Lyla, I can not find good reason why Lord Tyrion would have thrown Bran only to return here to give him a gift does not make any sense."
"I pray to the Father that Bran will have justice, as odd as that may sound to a northern," Lyla spoke, with a faint laugh at the end, remembering he prayed to different gods than hers.
"I pray the old gods for the same," Robb replied.
"And if," she stretched the if in the sentence, "the person who hurt Bran was a Lannister. They should be judged all the same."
"It would have been so much easier if he could remember anything," Lyla sighed. 'Anything at all would have helped."
Robb looked down and then back at her for a moment of contemplation before speaking. "After Bran was attacked in the night and before she left, my mother found a long strand of golden hair in the tower where Bran fell from. It's why we have been thinking it could have been a Lannister who attacked Bran."
"Long golden hair strand?" the princess mimed.
Lyla then thought of something, or was it remembering something. No matter what it was, it happened so fast she forgot it in an instant. But she just looked up at Robb.
"I'm feeling tired, I should return to my room," she began as she looked into his eyes, "I am glad that we could have talked because I really would want things to be as they were before all of this."
"I'd like that as well," he agreed.
"Goodnight," Lyla bowed.
"Goodnight, Lyla," Robb responded as she left his room.
~*****~
Lyla was six years old, it was the middle of the day and she had been with her septa all morning but she quickly tired of how her septa tried to teach a young girl who only wanted to play games.
The girl was looking for her mother, or her uncles, or her handmaiden Fae, or even her younger brother Joffrey who was barely four. She wasn't supposed to wander the castle alone, no princess should be unescorted, but no one seemed to be watching her so she took advantage of that to explore. She never went farther than the rooms and the throne room which was usually empty for except when they were holding court, and Lord Arryn would greet her with a pat of the head and sometimes a sweet. Uncle Stannis was a mean old man, with a mean look on his face she didn't like. Maester Pycelle smelt the worse. But she liked Ser Barristan.
The one she wanted the most was her mother. Lyla loved to be smothered in her mother's affections. To sit in her queenly mother's lap as Cersei would brush her hair as Lyla felt her mother's silky golden hair, as her mother would speak with her strong voice and tell her stories or sing her songs, Lyla was still too young to full pay attention to them but she liked the way she told them. Her mother would leave kisses on her face and tell Lyla how important she was to her. It always made Lyla feel better when she was sad. Cersei didn't seem loving with the sole exception to her children whom she protected and loved with the ferocity of a lioness.
She would settle for her Uncle Jaime though, he lacked the warmth of her mother was otherwise almost the same as her mother in her eyes with the same golden hair, the same green eyes, the same beautiful features, but with a more athletic build so he could lift her up and throw her around in the air. Her uncle was much kinder than Stannis, and much more caring. Her Uncle was often trusted to guard her when she needed it because her mother trusted him to.
Lyla ran carefully, knowing how to run without hurting herself.
She tried to memorize her way to her mother's chambers and cracked the unguarded door open to run to her mother but stopped at the sounds of voices inside and didn't want to interrupt.
"Are you sure?" A male voice asked, she peaked her eye in and saw that it was her Uncle Jaime with his beautiful golden mane and Kingsguard armor that made him shine pure white and gold.
"Of course, I am sure!" A female voice snapped. It was her mother dressed in pink wrapped dresses with her hair tied and twisted around in one of her extravagant hairstyles. Lyla smiled brightly.
"What's the harm then, he is your husband?" Jaime continued.
"I gave him a beautiful princess and yet he changed nothing. Even when he thinks that I have given him a crown prince, nothing changes. I refuse to give him any satisfaction to think he has made me with child again, not after the first time, never again."
Lyla was confused what her mother was talking about. Child? Did she mean her or Joffrey? She was a princess and Joffrey a prince, but she couldn't finish placing the pieces together. But she became invested in their conversation and what they were talking about together.
"I'll take you to that woman to cleanse you again, but you need to be more careful, Cersei, if your husband wasn't such a drunk, maybe he would be able to notice the difference between your brood," he teased.
She hit his arm, "leave them out of this."
"Why? It's almost humorous how you can all sit together without him seeing what is so clearly obvious," he continued to tease.
She tried to hit him again, but he grabbed her hand and brought her closer to him, much closer than she had ever seen the two of them get before.
"What's the harm in another?" he teased, leaning down to her neck and burying his face into it. Lyla quirked a brow, what was he doing to her mother's neck? She wanted to ask, but she remembered that she was eavesdropping on their conversations when she knew she wasn't supposed to but didn't want to be in trouble so she bit her tongue in silence.
"Jaime," her mother moaned, a sound Lyla had never heard another person make. She wondered why her mother was making that weird look on her face with an overly opened mouth as she appeared to be moaning loudly. Lyla closed her mouth and covered it, never wanting to embarrass her mother. But she couldn't stop watching in confusion. Her mother wrapped her arms around her uncle and pulled him closer to her body and buried his head further to her neck. Once he left her neck, their lips met into a passionate kiss.
Lyla covered her mouth before she had the chance to gasp in shock. Lyla didn't know many things, but she knew what a kiss on the mouth meant. It was something you only did with a lover, not with a brother or sister. She was so confused by what she had just seen. But once again she couldn't just bust in and start asking questions, so instead she tried to sneak away as quickly and quietly as she could, no longer wanting to look at them anymore.
Lyla knew she shouldn't have seen that, so she didn't speak about it.
Until she couldn't remember what she had seen.