Chapter Text
[283 AC - The Red Keep]
Screams could be heard in the confines of the red keep. The pained screams of a woman.
The woman in question was the new queen, Cersei Lannister. It was ten months after Robert Baratheon had rebelled against the Targaryen Dynasty and claimed the Iron Throne as king.
9 Months after Cersei had first lain with Robert, 9 months since he had called her by the northerner girl's name.
9 Months since she felt nothing but resentment and disgust towards her husband, towards the abomination inside of her. She had known it was her drunkard of a husband's. She had only been having her affair with Jaime for a few months.
Yet she held some hope onto the impossible odds that the baby was Jaime's instead of the bastard's.
Yet, when she pushed and finally felt that sheer relief of the weight of childbirth lifting, her hopes vanished.
She knew it was a boy immediately, a mother knows.
The baby was fine physically, strong, healthy, and bright, with green eyes shining. He did not come out crying, instead, he was quiet.
But that was not what made her hopes vanish, no, it was due to the fact of the few strands of brown hair among the baby's head.
Baratheon Hair.
Grand Maester Pycelle held the baby, wrapping it into a bundle, wiping off the blood, "Congrats, your grace, it is a healthy boy, he's not even crying…"
Before she could even get a hold of her newborn, her 'Precious' husband, Robert Baratheon, had burst into the room. He had been waiting outside the door for the woman inside to give birth already and stop her screaming.
He had come for his child, not a woman's screams.
Robert strode in with a grin as soon as he heard the screams wind down. He looked at the babe and grinned when he saw it was a boy.
Robert plucked the boy out of the Maester's hands with a bright, loud laugh. "Look at that!" Robert roared, "A mighty boy!"
The babe looked at him with wide green eyes and, instead of crying, smiled. Grand Maester Pycelle blinked in faint shock that no crying came, and Robert…Robert laughed loudly.
"You have spirit for such a thing so small!" Robert grinned wider.
Cersei clutched her robes, faint disgust and anger in her eyes. She had held an atrocity in her womb for months, clinging to stupid hope that it would be her brothers, and now she couldn't even hold the damn thing?
'Curse you, Robert! Curse you, damn you!' She thought that a faint wetness could be seen in her eyes if you looked close enough.
"I know exactly what to name you!" Robert's eyes softened, his hands more careful than he had ever been, "You came out mighty, not crying, but with a smile! You shall be named Lyonel, after my great-grandsire."
"Lyonel Baratheon, a mighty name for a mighty boy, Your Grace." Grand Maester Pycelle spoke with a warm smile
Cersei glared hatefully from her bed as Robert lifted the babe high. A softness poked at his eyes, a softness he had never shown to her, to anyone except that stark girl.
"My Heir!" Robert grinned. "You will be the greatest king these lands have ever seen." He said with pride.
He finally seemed to read the room and turned to Cersei. "Do you want to hold him? You did birth him after all."
"No." Cersei spoke coldly, pain lacing her features as she turned her head, "Get out, all of you! out!"
The room cleared, with Robert not looking back, holding the baby.
Cersei pressed the palm of her hand to her mouth, refusing to give in to tears, to let this situation bother her.
No matter how much it did.
Cersei didn't notice Robert lingering for half a second, didn't notice the smile on his face, nor did she hear the "You did well."
She just wallowed there, trying to hold her tears in.
[One Month and 2 Weeks After]
Robert Baratheon had issued an order to every great house under his rule. From the North to Dorne, he called for every head of every house to celebrate the birth of his firstborn son, and heir, Lyonel Baratheon.
A celebration in the form of a great tourney. The first tourney since Robert won his rebellion, the first since the Tourney at Harrenhall.
The winner would win a generous sum of gold coins and a high honour of blessing the Prince with a crown of wreath.
An honour that would grant a man a lot of recognition from the Royal Family.
Ravens fled to every corner of Westeros. To the North, The Reach, from the Riverlands to Dorne. Every land owner, merchant, and hedge knight.
And of course, many houses returned letters, eager for the opportunity to get closer to the crown.
Many minor houses responded, eager for their house and legacy to rise.
Even though House Stark had responded, though Eddard Stark had been hesitant at first, he accepted due to his friendship with Robert.
The only houses that did not were the Martells of Dorne and the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands.
The Martells of Dorne still carried a hatred and grudge against the crown for the murder of Elia Martell.
The Greyjoys had sent no reply; no one knew if it was an insult or indifference. No one could say for certain, but not many cared.
At first, Robert was furious. His son was their future kin; they should have shown respect.
Luckily, Jon had managed to calm him down so as not to cause another conflict.
"They were ordered by order of their king!" Robert had roared. In the corner of the room, Cersei was breastfeeding a baby, Lyonel. However, her expression told that she would rather be anywhere else. "They should swear their support!"
"Yes, I agree, but no one would swear to a babe of not even one year yet, Robert." Jon Arryn, Robert's loyal hand, had spoken, "You have just won the crown, you can not afford to look bad to all the houses who you just won support over"
The day of the tourney had come, and it was filled with spectators. Hedge Knights, merchants, bards, and lords all filled the crowd.
And on the highest stand sat Robert Baratheon and his queen, Cersei Lannister. Next to him was Tywin Lannister, head of House Lannister, holding the star of the tourney, and his grandson, Lyonel Baratheon.
To show House Lannister and House Baratheon were still strong and an alliance intact, Tywin had proposed to hold Lyonel for a short time. Robert had agreed.
Robert roared with laughter as the jousting began. Figures such as Ser Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane participated.
"Get me some more wine! And gods, Tywin let go of the boy! He looks like he is about to cry from suffocation!" Robert grinned.
Tywin sighed in frustration and placed the baby back in the cradle.
Lyonel let out a soft whine, his arms turning upwards, begging to be picked up. When no one did, he let out a frustrated noise.
When Tywin had gotten the news of Lyonel's birth, he had been pleased. It had now officially tied the Lannisters to the throne for centuries.
The child would sit on the throne. Half Baratheon, but more importantly, half Lannister.
As the tourney went on, Stannis Baratheon, Robert's younger brother, new lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships, stepped up.
"Your Grace,"
"Stannis? What does your stiff-ass want now?" Robert grunted.
"The Heir should possess something of great value," Stannis spoke, holding out his hand. In his hand was a necklace, the pendant was of a deer standing upright, a crown in its mouth.
Robert blinked in surprise, then his grin came back, "Thank you, Stannis! I am sure the boy would love it!"
"Of course, it is made of dragon glass, mined from Dragonstone." Stannis bowed, "I will pray for his safety." and he made his way back to his tent.
Robert hesitated before standing and putting the necklace around Lyonel's neck. It looked ridiculous on the baby, but it was something.
"Robert." The king immediately stiffened and laughed loudly as he turned. After all, he was seeing his brother-in-arms, Eddard Stark.
"Gods, Ned! I haven't seen you for a long time!"
Standing at the entrance was Eddard Stark, a man with dark hair, a warm smile plastered on his face. To his right was his wife, Catelyn Tully, her red hair spilling at her sides as she showed warmth.
And, in her arms, a bundle.
"And who is that?" Robert grinned.
"Robert, Meet Robb." Ned took the baby from his wife's arm, showing the baby's face.
"Robb?" Robert Questioned.
"After you." Ned smiled, and Robert patted his friend's arm.
"A mighty name! Come, meet my son." Robert grinned, picking up Lyonel, who let out a soft coo.
"Lyonel Baratheon! Future king of Westeros!" Robert said proudly.
"I believe he will make a great king."
"He's a babe, he can't even wipe his ass without calling for his mom!"
They both laughed loudly.
"He could grow up with your kid, gods imagine it!" Robert grinned, "Another generation with a new us!"
"That sounds like hell on Westeros." Ned retorted as he chuckled.
On the field, a hedge knight was on his horse. A beautiful white thing, in the hedge knight's hands, was a jousting stick.
The knight's shield had the sigil of a wine cup, a droplet spilling over the edge.
His opponent was one Gregor Clegane. The jousting started, the wine knight shot forward, aiming his jousting stick at the mountain.
Gregor held onto his reins tightly and aimed for the Wine Knight. But his horse's foot had stumbled for a slight second. A second enough for the mystery knight to strike.
Gregor felt the lance before he could hit the wine knight.
And Ser Gregor Clegane fell from his horse. The Wine Knight rode past him, getting cheers from the crowd. The man had won against the mountain.
Said mountain was getting up, furious, he drew his sword, killing his horse, drawing gasps and screams from the crowd.
The Wine Knight tensed, looking at the behemoth that was about to charge at him.
But before a confrontation could erupt, a voice erupted.
"Enough of this madness! Or I will have your head!" Robert roared in fury at the sight of the bloodshed and disobedience at his son's dedicated tourney.
Gregor grunted angrily and stormed off, pushing past soldiers. "You!" Robert shouted to the wine knight, "Your name!"
The man took off his helm, revealing bright blue eyes and long brown hair. He was not handsome like Jaime, or muscled like Robert. He was lean and clean-shaven.
And he knelt, his sword in the ground. "Ser Hugh Flowers, Your Grace."
Robert blinked, "Flowers? A bastard then? Of whom?"
"Lord Luthor Tyrell, My King"
The crowd reacted in shock. Lords from the Reach had shame clouding their features.
Mace Tyrell especially turned his head down in shame. The bastard his father had sired two decades ago, winning a tourney, the fact disgraced him and his house.
He could already hear the rumours, "Luthor Tyrell's bastard won a tourney before his heir did."
Robert had no care for it. "Well, get up here!"
Ser Hugh stood, walking forward as the wreath was placed into his hands. He walked to the cradle of the Prince and knelt.
Lyonel looked at him with wide, curious eyes and giggled, stretching out a chubby hand. Ser Hugh let a smile cross his face as he placed the wreath-crown onto the baby's head.
As he rose, there was a pause before applause erupted.
"Your son will be the greatest king to have ever lived, your grace," He spoke to Robert, kneeling.
"Greater than even myself?" Robert glared.
"Every man wants their son to be greater than themselves. Those who don't are not good ones." Ser Hugh spoke boldly.
Robert burst out laughing, "You amuse me greatly! If all spots were not filled, I would ask you to join my king's guard!"
Ser Hugh smiled, "I would have to decline then, Your Grace, I simply could not give up base desires."
Cersei scowled at that, while Robert grinned even wider. "You have balls of steel! I like you!" He patted Hugh's shoulder, "Stand up proudly!"
Ser Hugh stood, and his hand was lifted by Robert's, "The Wine Knight!" Robert roared, and so did the crowd.
[That Night]
The sounds of boots thudding on the floor echoed throughout the redkeep. In its halls walked the king, Robert Baratheon, and his hand, Jon Arryn.
"Your actions will cause a wave among the noble folk, Robert," Jon told him as they strode.
"For what?" Robert rolled his eyes, "The man won my son's tourney!"
"He is a bastard, Robert, not just any but a bastard of Luthor Tyrell, a bastard of a great house." Jon retorted, "You raising his hand could be seen as provocation."
"Then let them take it as provocation! Things around here were getting boring anyway."
Away from them, several halls away, was the King and Queen's quarters. The only two people in the room were Jaime Lannister and the queen, Cersei Lannister.
Cersei was holding her newborn, who was asleep. And her eyes, in a rare moment, were teary. "Please, Jaime." She pleaded with him.
"Please, I can't do this! I hate it, I hate this thing in my arms."
Jaime looked at his sister in sorrow. He held her tightly as she cried.
"You can get rid of it." She suddenly spoke, a frantic look in her eyes. "Please, Jaime, take it and just…just get rid of it, please."
"What? Cersei…that is the Heir, we can not-" Jaime stuttered.
"Yes, you can! Get rid of the corpse, make it disappear, I'll say someone broke in…I am begging you, Jaime."
Jaime was silent, still, before he took the babe, "Ok, Cersei, I will, I'll take care of it, don't worry" He tightened his jaw and swallowed.
Cersei sobbed, "Thank you, thank you so much."
The babe cried, waking up, and Jaime wrapped him in a blanket, looking back once at Cersei before leaving.
He would not kill the baby; he already knew he would not be able to. But he could get rid of it.
He took the baby further from the King's Quarters, holding him tight against his chest.
He knew he needed to be as fast and discreet as possible.
So for every servant he had noticed, he would hide around the corner and would cover Lyonel's mouth.
After the fifth servant, he encountered from behind, he had figured he would not be able to leave the Red Keep unnoticed.
He would need someone to leave instead, someone more discreet…like the laundry maid who had just graced his eyes.
The girl looked to be around 6 and 20, a woman grown. She was carrying a bag of clothes, humming a tune Jaime had not recognised.
He snuck and dragged her around the corner, covering her mouth with his hand.
"Listen closely, maid," Jaime whispered. "You will take this babe, take it away from the Red Keep, as far as you want, as long as you don't get caught, I have no care."
"You will take it away, and in return, I will give you 2 dragon coins, enough for you to leave." Jaime moved his hand to her neck.
"T-that is Prince Lyonel-" The maid gasps, only for Jaime to tighten his grip on her throat.
"If you do not comply, I will slit your throat, yours and any family you may have," Jaime bluffed
"O-ok!" the maid stuttered, tears falling from her cheeks. "P-please, I'll do anything you say."
"Come back for your consolation" He placed the baby into the maid's laundry basket and, with one final glare, he ran back.
He ran till he reached the door, he opened it and went closer to Cersei. Her tears had dried, but her hair was still messy.
"It's done," And Cersei sobbed in relief, "Thank you, thank you so much, Jaime."
"Listen, Cersei, we need to make an alibi. You have already cried. I need you to act devastated. I will knock myself out at the door. Can you do that?"
Cersei nodded, and Jaime sighed, "I would do anything for you," He whispered.
He went around the room, slamming things, breaking vases, and grabbing a small knife and cutting his right cheek before throwing it out the window.
Cersei watched him in shock before sucking in a breath and screaming.
As he heard footsteps, 2 pairs of them, he braced himself and slammed his head against the stone wall. He grunted and slid down, allowing unconsciousness to take him.
[Minutes Earlier]
Aemma had been doing a regular duty. The regular task she had gotten for the last year was laundry duty.
It was easy: wash clothes, dry them, and that's it.
She didn't expect to be ordered by the Kingslayer to kidnap the Heir to the Iron Throne and leave.
She didn't want to at first; she could very much die, but the prize…the golden coins could get her enough to leave King's Landing.
Though even after he offered her the gold, she was hesitant, gold couldn't buy another life. And then Jaime Lannister had threatened her and her family.
She made up her mind right there. She would follow the orders and pray she wouldn't die.
She looked down at her laundry basket and felt immense pity for the boy. To be taken from his own home before he could even remember it.
Once she left the keep, she was stopped by two guards at the entrance. For a split second, Aemma panicked.
Until she steadied herself and gulped. "I am going to the nearby well; I am doing laundry tonight." She explained.
The Gold Cloak squinted but let her pass through.
When she was far enough away, she sprinted. She ran till her lungs burned. When she had gotten to her small but modest house, she breathed out a sigh.
Her husband, Jason, looked at her in shock as she threw the clothes out of the basket. "Honey, what are you-" he stopped once he noticed the baby.
"What in the seven hells! Aemma, what have you done!?" He demanded.
"Hush! Be quiet, they will notice soon!" She hissed.
"Is that the fucking prince!? Aemma, you will be executed!"
"Someone hired me! T-they promised gold dragon coins! 2 of them! Enough for us to move and be fed for a year, Jason! Our lives would change so much," She said, teary-eyed.
"And we could have our heads chopped off and paraded around all the Seven Kingdoms! Gods, Aemma, how stupid could you be!?" Jason grabbed his hair.
"It is far too late!" Aemma rushed, getting her sewing kit, and sewed the name "Lyonel" on a blanket. She placed the crying baby into another basket and covered him in it.
"You stay here, I will take him to flea bottom. I heard rumours of a house that takes in children with no home."
Jason looked at her like she was more mad than the mad king himself. "Gods, I married a crazy woman." He whispered before pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Return to me, my love." He said quietly before she left, dressing herself in clothes covering every inch of her body.
As she walked at a rushed pace, she looked down at the baby in her arms. She had stitched the babe's name on the blanket for one reason.
The babe already had enough taken from him, his home, his family. Aemma would not allow his name to be taken away as well.
As she entered Flea Bottom, Lyonel let out sounds from the makeshift carrier. 'Probably from the smell.'
She got to a lone street, she looked around with furrowed eyebrows.
As she spotted the door with a number ingrained on it, she walked hesitantly. 'The door with the 5' she reminded herself.
She placed the makeshift carrier down at the door. But before she could stand straight, the baby cooed and held her finger.
She looked deep into the green eyes, her features softening. "I am so sorry." She whispered, knocking on the door and running as fast as possible.
A minute later, no one answered the door. Instead, the house burst into flames. You see, minutes earlier, a child within the house had been playing with an open flame.
In a house made of wood…the kid was an idiot.
Lyonel cried seeing the fire; his cry was not alone; many people let out cries in the building.
The door was thrown open by a coughing matron as she rushed out of the house, and she tripped over the baby.
Lyonel went tumbling; he let out a loud cry, a thin trail of blood going across his cheek.
Luckily, he landed safely, still in the basket.
The woman scrambled to her feet, calling for anyone, though it was flea bottom…no one was coming in time.
By the time Gold Cloaks came, the building was burnt to char. The only survivors were the matron and the baby in her arms.
The matron looked down at the bundle in her arms, her tears racing down her face. She had black hair and brown eyes. Looking painfully average.
"Lyonel." She read quietly, her voice tired from sobbing. Her dream was destroyed in front of her very eyes. To give the children of Flea Bottom a real home, and it ended like this.
In another life, this child would be another amongst the 5 other children she was taking care of.
Just remembering them brought more tears.
As the last of the fires were put out, she looked sadly at the baby, still crying but more quietly from the cut.
'You're my last hope, Lyonel.'
At another part of King's Landing, bells began to ring, alarms sounding, and furious screams erupting from the castle.