"You are very kind. Some day it will get you killed."
Charlotte's POV
Cordial words were exchanged from my grandfather as he stood across from the tent and stared at me. "You seem tired, Charlotte. You need your rest. We will talk more tomorrow." His green eyes blink one last time before he turns away. I'm a sight for sore eyes. Jaime stands protectively beside the bed, glaring after his father with narrowed eyes. The two of us watch him leave.
"He's surprised to meet you. Cersei never told him that you had returned to King's Landing." Jaime lays his sword against the wall of the tent, removing heavy parts of his armor. I watch him carefully. "Jaime, can I ask you a question?" He turns to me with wide eyes, and nods.
"Was my mother ashamed of me? I mean, she never told me the truth about anything... Was she ashamed that out of all the kidnapped children in the world, I happened to be hers? She had given birth to a princess, and she found me raised by the wolves in Winterfell... I just want to know the reasons for why she's always lying to me."
He bends down to my eye level, sitting on the ground beside the bed. The happiness from before had disappeared from his face, only leaving a pale complexion of guilt and sadness. "She was never ashamed of you, Charlotte... She wanted to protect you. She wanted her baby back, but you were almost grown. You knew nothing about the life you were born into. By lying to you, she was trying to make the transition as easy for you as she possibly could. The pain she went through... She didn't want the same happening to you."
"Why didn't you tell me the truth? Or, did she hide it from you too?"
"She told me she was taking her secrets to the grave, so... No, she never told me of the prophecy, nor anything else you might've learned in the passing days. The only thing she required of me was to protect you, and I failed on more than one occasion. I know we've hurt you, Charlotte... But, you will never find another family that loves you more."
The Starks.
I laid my head against the feather pillow, my heartbeat echoing, or somewhat jabbing against my skull. "Jaime, I'm not sure I can forgive her this time." I turned in the direction of the far side of the tent, watching as the wind blew against the sheets. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive her. My eyes close with little resistance, and I was completely and utterly satisfied with escaping the world for a few hours.
Third Person POV
Jaime watches with careful eyes as Charlotte slips into a deep slumber. He knew the child was in need of sleep, and he knew she would eventually lose the fight of trying to stay awake. "Sleep well..." He whispers under his breath before walking out of the tent to give her some peace.
"Is it truly her?" A bellowing voice asks behind Jaime's back. It was Tywin Lannister in confounded disbelief. This could not be the child that had been stolen away from King's Landing so long ago. He couldn't believe his eyes.
Jaime answers softly, not wanting to wake Charlotte. "In the flesh. We found her in Winterfell, being raised by Ned Stark's family." A slight moment of disgust crosses his face. "Sadly, she still has the North in her heart... poor girl."
Tywin blinks with surprise. "Why was I not told of her return to royalty? And, why... May I ask... Is she here, and not in King's Landing with Cersei?"
"Cersei broke the bonds of motherhood."
"That's not surprising. I never pictured her as the nurturing type..." Tywin leans his head inside of the tent, staring at Charlotte as she slept. Her red hair was covering her face, preventing Twyin from fully seeing the girl. "When she first walked into the tent... I thought it was Joanna, your mother. There's no doubt that Cersei is her mother, but I don't see why Cersei would want to hurt her."
"She can explain it better than I can. All I know is that something happened, and Charlotte ran away. She was captured by one of those whore owners, and was brought here." Jaime cringes as he thought of what Charlotte may have experienced on the journey to Casterly Rock.
Tywin crosses his arms. "Have him executed immediately." Jaime could sense the tension that was surrounding Tywin, knowing that even after talking with her for only a few minutes, he honestly cared for Charlotte.
Two knights that were standing outside the tent padding off into the direction of the prisoners, carrying out orders giving to them by their lord. Jaime stays standing beside the tent, keeping guard until Charlotte woke. He would not let anyone lay their hands on her again.
"Send a raven to King's Landing. Inform them of the Princess's prolonged stay in Casterly Rock. She will not be returning in the distant future."
Jaime's eyes widen at his father's words. He expected Twyin to send Charlotte back to King's Landing to be with her mother, but he chose instead to protect her in Casterly Rock. "Father, what should I tell Cersei?" It was a valid question, one Jaime already had intentions on answering, but wondered what his father would say. Twyin leans his head to the side, shades of gray and white hair glowing in the sunlight. "Tell her... That Charlotte will only return to King's Landing of her own accord. I will not force that child to do anything."
Charlotte's POV
Scenes upon scenes of my childhood began flashing through my subconscious as I tossed and turned on the cot. Remembering how soft, and red my mother's hair was... Lady Catelyn. Her gentle voice as she told me stories of wars fought long ago. She always smelled of lilac, and the forest behind the walls of Winterfell. The reflection of love in her midsummer blue eyes. The irony that my hair is red, as well.
I miss her so much...
"Charotte, are you okay?"
A voice shakes me from my memories, and causes me to lift my head as I search for the perpetrator. I narrow my eyes in the darkness, the source of light flutters in through the slit in the tent opening. "Jaime?"
"No, child... It's your... Grandfather."
I mentally slap myself in the face. How could I not recognize the deep bellows in his voice? "I did not mean to startle you, but you were making quite a lot of racket. I could only assume you were not sleeping well. Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness, than permission, so I decided to wake you."
Is that genuine concern I detect in his voice?
Within seconds, my grandfather lit a candle and places it in the center of the tent. Shadows of the flickering candle dance alongside the walls of the tent, chasing after one another as a race that would never be won.
"Charlotte..."
I continue to watch him with narrowing eyes, wanting to know his intentions of comforting me. Lannisters always have alterior motives. "I know, as Cersei is my own daughter, she can drag you through the mud and convince you it was your fault the entire time. She's probably destroyed any chance you have of trusting anyone every again..." That's an understatement. Robert Baratheon. Karalyn. Joffrey. She's not the only one. "I know you're not your mother, despite the similarities in appearance."
I finally find my voice. "Thank you..."
My two short words enlist a wide smile on his face. "And, she talks. We're getting somewhere."
I slowly pulled myself up from the cot, running my hands through the long layers of hair that covered my head. "Your hair is a beautiful shade of red..." He really is trying to warm up to me. "My father had reddish tints to his hair, along with Cersei and Jaime's mother, your grandmother." So, the rumors were true. He doesn't acknowledge Tyrion as his son. "You are the epitome of a Lannister born child, however cursed with the Baratheon bloodline."
Cursed? CURSED? He doesn't understand the meaning of his words.
"I am lucky enough..."
Tywin's evergreen eyes blink quickly, before they settled on my face again. "You truly are wise beyond your years."
"Please stop with the exchange of pleasantries. I've heard them all before, and don't quite fancy hearing them again. I wish above all else that I had not been born into this forsaken family, for it will ruin my life until the day I die, but the Gods don't give us a choice. I had the blessing of being raised by the Starks, which I figured was the reason you came to speak with me... You want me to turn my back on a family that loves me, and reveal everything I know about them... Is it not?"
Anger plasters on his face for a complete second. "Watch you tongue, Princess." The emphasis on princess, as though I was no longer worthy to be addressed by my real name.
"I feel no obligation to this family, so I suggest you find another source, and leave me alone."
Third Person POV
King's Landing
The smell of approaching death lingers in the bedchambers of Robert Baratheon. A flesh wound that needed dressing, for blood was seeping out of it. "I should've spent more time with you, show you how to be a man. I was never meant to be a father." The injured King speaks hushed words to his son, his disdain ever apparent in his short breathes. Joffrey held his father's hand, fear glinting in his eyes. "Where is your sister?"
Robert glances at Cersei. "Where is our daughter?"
Cersei's leans her head away from her husband, searching the walls as though they held answers. "She's been busy, you know... Learning as much as she can." The words that escap Cersei's mouth reveal nothing but lies. Robert quickly places his hand over his chest, before entering a long bout of coughing. "I wish to speak with her immediately. I have a few things to say to her... Things that only she can know."
Immediately? Charlotte was all the way in Casterly Rock, so Robert's orders could never be carried out.
"You could write her a letter?" Cersei murmurs under her breath, clearly intrigued by what Robert would've spoken to her. "I'm sure she'll be around before the sun sets." Cersei was almost willing her words to be true, for she had no idea where her daughter had escaped too. Her last words being, The more people you love, the weaker you are. Cersei knew Charlotte had finally given up all hope in trying to reconnect with her. Too many lies had been kept, and revealed in the worst possible way.
"Bring in a notary..."
Just as Robert spoke his last words, Ned rushes into the room. The sound of his cane hitting the floor echoing around the walls. Renly and Ser Barristan also surround the bed, watching as Robert and Ned met eyes.
"Go on... You don't want to see this." Robert notions for Joffrey to leave.
The tension in the room seems to be cut in half as Robert chuckled under his breath. "My fault... Too much wine. Miss my thrust." Robert and Ned continued to exchange words, Ned remarking the beastly wound on Robert's side. "Leavest, the lot of you. I want to talk to Ned."
"Robert, my sweet..." Cersei's minor attempt at keeping her presence in the room, for she feared that Ned would reveal her children's true heritage, and the incestuous relationship she shared with her brother.
"Out the lot of you!
All of those within the room make their exit, including Cersei. Ned takes his place at Robert's side, carefully lowering himself onto the bed. "You damned fool..."
"Take the ink of the table, and right down what I say."
In the name of Robert, of the House Baratheon. "You know how it goes. Fill in the damn titles." I hereby command Eddard, of House Stark. "Titles, titles." To serve as Lord Regeant and protector of the Realm upon my death, to rule in my stead until my son Joffrey comes of age.
Robert signs the document, scribbling his signature along the bottom of the aged page.
"I have another, Ned... This one for my daughter, the one we so happen to share."
Dearest, Charlotte
It is of great regret that these words are written to you. I cannot explain the pain in my heart for the pain that I so wrongfully bestowed upon you. You were just a babe, so divine and new to this world. In a moment of mistaken madness, you were unfairly taken from the only world you were born to prosper in. I caused your mother so much pain, and I too felt the loss after hearing her screams night after night. I may have not been in the castle on the night of your birth, but a trusted friend told me of you. The purple of your eyes. A secret that was kept from you, and your mother. You have a supernatural claim to this throne, but your brother will be taking the crown. I wish it was otherwise. I have a great secret that only you can know, for it is only you that will understand. A war will be waged, this is definite. But, an instrument can be used to end the tyranny.
You.
This is all I can say.
Deepest sincerity,
Your father.