2 A Father

The bushes and the leaves of the towering trees sang and danced with the wind as it caressed their tips and bodies with its gentleness, manifesting a peaceful ambiance.

The place was dark and quiet as the canopy of trees above shielded the place from the harsh glow of the sun, creating a shadowy and ominous air around the place.

Here and there, the high-pitched chirps of the birds and bugs echoed all over, bringing a little sense of security to those afraid as the dark atmosphere struck fear in their craven hearts.

Raising my head to look at the sky blanketed by the dense and sprawling leaves that sparkled occasionally with the sunlight, I took a deep breath and exhaled all my worries away, the coldness and freshness of the air bringing a sense of clarity to my troubled mind.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jon asked cooly, his voice almost a whisper as he made himself comfortable on the robust brown courser, near me on my left, his blue eyes fixed on my face.

He was dressed in a brown thick woolen long-sleeved tunic that hung a few inches below his waist adorned with an embroidered sigil of his house on the right side of his chest, dark brown breeches, tight leather boots, and a pair of leather gloves that fit with his aged arms.

He had darkening short blonde hair, broad shoulders, an aquiline nose, and a fair face covered with a thick brown beard that enhanced his masculine features.

Despite his age, seated with his back straight on the saddle, he still looked as noble and lordly as when I first laid eyes on him at the Eyrie.

"....There's nothing to talk about. If the gods will it, I'd have a living child by the time we get back if not..." I sighed willfully and shook my head lightly as I watched a column of servants hoist a wooden thick beam on their shoulders, hanging on it was the bled-out corpse of a young buck.

Seeing this, the accompanying members of the Kingsguard in their distinct golden armor and all-white cloaks with their weapons strapped to their sides spurred their horses forwards.

At their head was Ser Barristan Selmy, or Ser Barristan The Bold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. A tall older man with white hair, pale blue eyes that seemed sad, and a fair face decorated with a small white beard and lined facial features.

He looked handsome for his age and his golden plate armor and his all-white cloak with his long sword strapped to his sides made him every bit as graceful and strong as a young noble knight. The rattling sound of their armor sounded soft as their mounts moved.

The rest of the servants, including those holding the straight flags that bore my house's sigil started moving forward with the ones holding the hunting materials, equipment, and weapons trailing behind them.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to speak of such ominous things during times like these?" Jon shook his head. "Trust in the strength of your wife and put your faith in the gods. I have full faith that you'll have an heir this time."

I scoffed at the mention of my wife and urged my horse forward with a kick, ignoring the light frown that came on Jon's face.

My wife? Sure by law she was my wife but there was only one woman who I acknowledged as my bride. A woman who was taken out of my hands by that wretched piece of Targaryen filth.

It was no secret that there was no love between Cersei and I, hell she knew it and the rest of the court did but for the sake of the bloody realms, appearances had to be kept.

Today, her water broke so he descended into labor. And instead of me staying by her side to console her or help her through the process, terror seized me and so hastily, I organized a hunting party and set out into the Kingswood.

Who would've thought the man who led armies of men to fight a rebellion would be frightened like a chicken by the thought of my child being born? Some valiant king I was...

But who could blame me? The first time I stuck around for such a thing, my newborn son died. First, it was my father and mother, the love of my life, and then my first child. So who in the Seven Kingdoms could guilt me for being a craven in that time of hour?

But Jon had a point. There was no use in me being like this. I was a King and even if I didn't like it, I had a reputation and an image to keep.

There was no use in beating myself up with something I knew I couldn't control so as Jon said, it would be better to just hope for the best and hope that for once, the gods—both the old and new—will give bless me with something good.

As all these thoughts ran laps through my mind, Jon catched up and in comfortable silence, we moved slowly along the Kingsroad towards the entrance of the lush forest, the servants and knights treading at a suitable pace behind us.

The sounds of leaves crushing, bushes ruffling, the breaths of the mounts, the steps of the horses and servants, and the occasional whispers of the wind filled the whole forest, making the slow trek as peaceful as possible.

As we neared the mouth of the forest, Jon asked softly, in a lighthearted manner reminiscent of a father speaking to his son.

"Have you thought of a name yet for the child?"

I turned my head to him and rose an eyebrow in question as a gust of wind licked my face, swaying my short hair and full beard lightly, but seeing the meaningful smile on his face, I chuckled.

"Gods know I'm terrible with names so I'll leave that to Cersei and all those golden-haired bastards she keeps around her. Who knows, maybe she'll come up with a name better than ours."

"Is that so? And what is bad with our names? Your grace, are you implying that our names don't strike fear in the hearts of our enemies?" Jon narrowed his eyes at me in a threatening manner but I could see the sides of his mouth rising each second.

"Hmm, let's see. We have Robert, Jon, and Eddard. Do any of these names sound princely or threatening to you?" I let go of my reins and cupped my chin with my right hand, looking down as if deep in thought. "I'd bet my crown any day that any common man bearing these names wouldn't even scare whores in the bloody reach!"

I let out loud and immediately both of us roared with laughter, our deep voices echoing all over the eerie forest.

Still laughing, we arrived at the mouth of the forest and the Kingsroad came into our view with the small green thickets flanking its sides.

"It seems we have company." Jon's laughter died down and he commented as from away, we could make out the image of a black mare galloping with a slim man seated at its back galloping towards us at high speeds.

Nodding, I pulled my reins and stopped my horses from moving as the Kingsguard quickly burst forth out of the forest and formed a perimeter around our position, their gold plate armor and all-white cloaks shining in the sun.

With a sharp sound, they drew out their longswords and Ser Barristan Selmy drew near to me, his drawn sword shimmering in the light.

"What are your orders, my Grace?" He asked seriously, his voice as sharp as a knife as we watched the rider draw nearer and nearer to us.

"Stand down. Let's see what this man has to say." I looked at him and answered calmly and he nodded in understanding.

"Yes, your Grace. Stand down, guys!" He ordered the rest of the Kingsguard and immediately, they sheathed their swords back into the scabbards hanging on their belts with practiced ease.

The rider drew closer and slowed down his horse when he got about a hundred meters away from us.

"Identify yourself!" One of the Kingsguard moved forward and bellowed to the approaching rider, his voice as hard as stone.

Panting, the rider dressed in a faded brown tunic and breeches and leather boots made his horse stop and with both fear and awe in his eyes, as they fell on me, he got down from his horse and knelt.

"My King, my name is Ryla, a stable boy employed in the Red Keep. I have been tasked by the Master Of Whisperers to deliver an urgent message to your Grace!" He let out in one breath, his chest still rising and falling like a tide.

"Speak Ryla, what is it!?" I frowned and asked him, anxiety and agitation exuding out of my loud, almost spurring my horse forward as it seemed as if my fears were coming true.

Beside me, Jon's face also morphed into a frown and so we all stared at the panting and sweating young man to deliver his message.

"Your Grace, the Queen..."

"What has happened to the Queen!?" My eyes widened in fear and so I cut him off and asked impatiently, my tone aggressive as hopelessness started brewing within me.

"...Has given birth to a healthy babe, a boy your Grace. You are a father now, my King." Spooked, the boy fell back and answered hurriedly after gulping down his saliva, his dirty face wet with sweat.

As if a heavy stone had been lifted away from my heart, a relieved sigh left my mouth and I couldn't stop the bright smile that spread on my face.

"I told you, Robert. You just need a little faith." Jon whispered fondly with a wide smile that showed a glimpse of his fallen teeth.

And just like that, my day suddenly became brighter...

•••

My heart racing with anticipation, I walked with haste along the winding red corridors with Jon and the members of the Kingsguard flanking my sides and arrived at the end of the corridor, the clinks from their armor sounding everywhere.

The servants who saw us approaching immediately left the way for us and even those far ahead, because of the loud sounds of our footsteps and armor stepped aside before we even reached them.

In moments, we arrived in front of the red wooden door being guarded by two members of the Kingsguard who bowed their heads at me and opened the door. The rest of the Kingsguard stayed behind as Jon and I entered the chamber.

"Your Grace!"

Voices greeted me upon entering the luxuriously decorated room and I set my eyes on those present in the room.

Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer and the twin brother of the Queen was standing straight at the corner of the room, decked in his Kingsguard attire.

His golden hair was as yellow as molten gold and his vibrant emerald eyes seemed to brighten up the room as he gazed at the center of the room with a smile on his handsome face. He bowed courteously upon seeing me and stood straight again.

Grand Maester Pycelle, clothed in his grey flowing robes bedizened with his clanging rings stood at the center with a box in his hands. His white balding head and wrinkled face together with his slightly hunched back, made him look like a weasel despite the polite and respectful look on his face.

And at the very center of the room was my wife, seated comfortably on a red couch imported from the Summer Isles. She looked as beautiful as ever with her smooth red Kirtle covering her attractive body, highlighting her long golden blonde hair that fell on her shoulders.

In her arms was a quiet and fat babe wrapped in a white towel with skin as smooth as snow with a healthy glow to it. As if curious, the babe turned to me and locked his bright emerald green eyes with mine and smiled beautifully, revealing his lack of teeth.

Just looking at him made me so happy that I couldn't help but smile. My son, I now had a beautiful son to call my own, the heir I always craved. At that moment, it seemed as if the gods, whether old or new, had finally given me the reprieve and compensation I needed for all the things they had taken away from me and just looking at him, it was like everything made sense...

"How is the child Pycelle? Is the prince alright?" Jon asked the Maester with concern brimming out of his voice as he looked at the babe being cradled in his mother's arms, shaking me out of my thoughts.

"The child is perfectly healthy. He was born earlier than expected but there are no signs of any abnormalities," He answered, his voice deep and gruff, and then looked at me. "In fact, he's almost twice as big and heavy than of the babies I've seen in all my years, probably courtesy of his paternal lineage. I've also detected a rare hint of intelligence in the child, so per my calculations, he'll grow up to be a very intelligent Prince."

Jon nodded at his words while I ignored them and looked eyes with Cersei. I took a step towards her.

"Can I hold him?" I asked gently as I came close enough for the sweet rose scent of her perfume to flow into my nostrils.

She looked at me with a forced smile, layed a peck on the child's forehead, and then slowly extended her arms to give him to me.

"Of course. Here, hold him gently." She said as I put my hand under his armpit and lifted him up gently.

Now having a closer inspection of his face, I could see the small tufts of platinum blonde hair settling on his small head and the spark of intelligence shining in his striking eyes that seemed to also inspect me curiously.

I rose an eyebrow at this in surprise but I recalled the Maester's words and only smiled in amazement. He was special, I could see it...no feel it. My instincts which had been tempered and honed on multiple battlefields screamed at me about his peculiarity.

He did not have the looks of a Baratheon but he had the body of one and I could feel it deep inside my bones that he was of my blood, the blood of the Storm Kings of Old.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" I turned my eyes to Cersei and asked happily, with a proud smile on my face.

"Yes, I have. His name is Joffery, Joffery Baratheon." She looked at me and answered calmly and I could see it in her eyes, the finality and the fact that she wasn't going to budge from her choice.

I wanted to protest but I was amused and since I wasn't around for her during her labor, I decided to let it slide and give in to her wishes. I owed her that at least.

"Pycelle, send Ravens to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, from Dorne to the North, and announce the birth of Joffrey Baratheon, the crown Prince Of The Seven Kingdoms and the heir to the Iron Throne. Also, announce the tourney that will take place in a fortnight from now to honor his birth."

I ordered loudly with a bright smile adorning my face and the baby started giggling, as if happy at the news.

...Oh Lyanna, this could've been our moment. This could've been our child, the fruit of our love. If only you were still alive...everything could've been perfect...