Baby Baratheon [Robb Stark//Game of Thrones]

Chapter Two: Robb Stark

"Why are you leaving?" cried my younger sister, Myrcella, at the gates of our castle. I smiled and wiped her tears with my thumbs; my hands cupped her beautiful face, that looked so much like our mother's... and my uncle Jaime.

"I won't be gone forever," I tell her, holding back tears and smiling through it. If I cried, surely Myrcella would be having a fit on the ground, trying to make my feet stick to the ground permanently so that I may stay with her. "My wedding," I swallowed hard and tried to maintain a strong front for my dear sister. "It will be held very soon. I promise we will marry here."

Beside her, Tommen, at such a very young age, stood there, holding onto Myrcella's dress. His face and body were plump, his eyes were watering. "Don't leave us," he balled, letting go of Myrcella and jumping on myself. He wrapped his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist like he was a baby who wanted his mother's comfort. I held him tightly as I felt him cry into my shoulder. I combed my hand through his bright blond hair before he was pulled off of me.

"That is unbecoming of a Prince!" My father shouted as my mother held him in her arms. He seemed to be shouting more than usual these days, with my departure and all. The anger was directed at me, most of all. Over the course of this week, I continued to persist that I stay here, but he wasn't having it. 

"He's upset, Robert," hissed my mother as the spectators around us murmured. Her head had whipped in his direction, and although I could only see her hair, I imagined the poisonous glare she gave him.

I noticed Joffrey, looking away and avoiding my eye contact. No older than ten, with his golden hair and face of my mother, standing idly by because he was ordered to be here. His face was hard and cold like it always was. I walked over to him, the soles of my shoes hitting the hard stone ground as I did. 

"Goodbye, then," he said still avoiding me.

I watched his light blue face as his eyes shifted blankly from my nose to my lips to my forehead, then repeating the cycle. "I will miss you, little brother," I smiled at him.

He gave me a weak nod.

"Joff, please," I plead. "Do not let me leave without a proper send-off. I am your sister, your blood," I searched his face again.

His eyebrows twitched and his eyes focused on mine. "I will miss you, too," his voice was so small, so innocent. I reached my arms out and pulled him close to me. His arms slowly reached around my back and hugged me lightly.

"There," I whispered. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

He chuckled softly and let me go.

My mother, who had put Tommen down, came toward me hastily. She had her dress in her hands, allowing a swifter movement of her legs as he raced to me. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. She had been arguing with my father more than I had, and that meant long nights for her. When she was done, she would come to my room and stroke my hair. I often woke to her curled up in my bed, drifting in a restless sleep.

"I will miss you, my beautiful child," she told me when she embraced me tightly. She ran her hand through my hair as I had done to Tommen before she was forced to pull away. A strong Queen cannot look weak.

"I will miss you," I say through tears that had finally slipped from my eyelids. She wiped them away as she always did.

"I will see you as soon as I can, okay?" She swallowed a lump in her throat and continued. "Once it is permissible for me to leave, I will. You will see me soon, my love."

"Don't trouble yourself," I tell her. "Your place is here, mother. My place is Winterfell. I will be back for the wedding, of course." I squeezed her hand in mine, staring at her face to imprint it in my mind like I might forget it come the year.