Artos Stark

Cersei's POV The Night Lands

The morning hadn't been easy for Cersei. The new that Artos had left hit her hard. She looked down at the new baby almost with distaste. Yes she loved him, but it hurt her to look at him. Even at such a young age she look just like his father. The man she loved above all else. The pain she felt now made her hate her late husband all the more. If he hadn't brought them all North she would have never met Artos Stark. It would still be her and Jamie, the man she could control. Alastor was the first child she ever handed over to a wet nurse. After he was done eating she had instructed that he be brought to Sansa to care for.

Cersei found herself in the council room doing her best to keep her uncaring persona in place. It broke ever so slightly once a letter from Robb landed in front of her. 
"From this time until the end of time, we are not part of your realm, but a free and independent Kingdom of the North." She read out before tearing the paper up.
"He has more spirit than his father, I'll give him that." She said looking down and fiddling with her fingers.
"You've perfected the art of tearing up papers. We can give him his father's bones back at least as a gesture of good faith." Tyrion suggested.
"You'll give the Starks our reply, Cousin?" Cersei asked finally looking up at the man.
"I will, Your Grace." He nodded.
"Did you see my brother when you were the Starks' guest? Or hear any word about Artos?" Cersei asked him dropping her tone a little sadly. She did her best to cover it but the Master of Whisperers picked it up as he tilted his head in curiosity.
"I did. They have not broken his spirit, Your Grace, and no. They spoke of him but never about this." Alton answered her truthfully.
"If you speak with him, tell him he's not been forgotten." Cersei ordered.
"I will, Your Grace." Alton nodded.
"Safe travels, Cousin." Tyrion dismissed him.
"You have a deft hand with diplomacy." Tyrion told his sister.
"Is that's everything-" Cersei started to get up wanting nothing more than to be alone.
"A- a raven flew in this morning from Castle Black." Stuttered put the Grandmeaster as he slowly held out a small rolled piece of paper.
"Trouble with the wildlings." Varys suggested.
"That's why they're called wildlings." Petyr told him dully.
"Not that the men in the south would be aware. I seem to recall many of them thinking Artos Stark was one himself during their visit to Winterfell." Vary added beeping his gaze on Cersei to gauge her reaction to the young man's name. After swing her flinch slightly he got his answer.
"A little less wolf these days. Seems that stopped killing each other and started following this King Beyond the Wall." Varys told them.
"Another king? How many is that now, five? I've lost count." Cersei laughed out sarcastically.
Lord Commander asks that we send men to the Wall." Tyrion read out lazily.
"Perhaps he's forgotten we're fighting a war. We have no men to spare." Cersei told him voice laced with a laugh. She was doing all she could to cover her sorrow.
"The cold winds are rising and the dead rise with them." Tyrion added a little more.
"The Northerners are a superstitious people." The Grandmaester uttered out. The constant talk of the North seemed to fuel Cersei's growing upset as she pushed herself to her feet.
"According to the Commander, one of these dead men attacked him in his chambers. Mormont doesn't lie." Tyrion rushed out as everyone stood up after her.
"How do you kill a dead man?" Varys asked curiously.
"Apparently you burn him." Tyrion read out.
"One trip to the Wall and you come back believing in grumpkins and snarks." Cersei laughed walking out of the room.
"I don't know what I believe. But here's a fact for you- the Night's Watch is the only thing that separates us from what lies beyond the Wall." Tyrion tired to reason.
"I have every conference that the brave men of the Night's Watch will protect us all." She said fully exiting the room.

Cersei walked down the hall, her thoughts filled with Artos. She paused by the door to Alastor's room to see Sansa sat hold the baby in her arms humming lovingly down at him. Cersei felt jealous at the sight of the Stark girl loving her son a way she found herself struggling to. She decided then that if she couldn't have Artos here then I'd like less was enough. The people would follow his better then her current bastards anyway. He had dark hair and would grow tall and strong. He would resemble Robert more then the others. She stepped into the room startling Sansa who stood up from her seat holding her nephew close to her.
"He told you then?" Cersei asked staring down at the girl in a judging sort of way.
"I promised not to tell. He made me promise to look out for him." Sansa told her hesitantly. Cersei held her hands out for her son and Sansa sat him gently inside.
"So you knew he was leaving?" She asked curling her nose up at the sight of his green eyes. Her heart ached at the lack of stormy grey.
"Not for very long. He told me quickly then he was gone." Sansa lied to her slightly. She didn't want to anger the Lannister Queen, but she knew if she lied to much she would be caught in it. Cersei hummed in return setting the now fussy baby back in his cot and leaving the wet nurse to deal with him.

Cersei found herself pacing her room talking to Tyrion. Even her monstrous little brother was better then her own thoughts at the moment.
"Lord Janos Slynt was commander of the City Watch. You have no right to exile him." She lectured him.
"I have every right. I'm the king's Hand." He said back slamming the table.
"You're serving as the king's Hand till father gets here. I am Queen Regent." She told him aggressively as she paced.
"Listen to me, Queen Regent. You're losing the people. Do you hear me?" Tyrion asked her.
"The people. You think I care?" She shot back.
"You might find it difficult to rule over millions who want you dead. Half the city will starve when winter comes. The other half will plot to overthrow you. And you gold plated thugs just gave them their rallying cry- The queen who slaughters babies. You don't even have the decency to deny it." He told her tilting his head.
"I went and saw the little one. You may have a harder time then you think passing him off as Robert's son. Artos's genes are strong. Even at this young he looks just like the loved Stark. People will praise the bastard just like they did his father. They will hate you all the more though." Tyrion added having not received a reply from Cersei. Watching as Cersei's face turned somewhat sad it dawned on Tyrion.
"It wasn't you who gave the order, was it? Joffrey didn't even tell you. Did he tell you? I imagine that would be even worse." Tyrion said leaning over trying to see her face.
"He did what he needed to be done. You want to be Hand of the King? You want to rule? This is what ruling is- lying in a bed of weeds. Ripping them out by the door. One by one. Before they strangle you in your sleep." She said angrily.
"I'm no king, but I think there's more to ruling then that." He told her scrunching up his face.
"I don't care what you think! You've never taken it seriously. You haven't. Jamie hasn't. Artos hasn't. It's all fallen in me." She uttered the last part quietly.
"As had Jamie repeatedly, according to Standish Baratheon." Tyrion told her with a bit of a smile.
"You're funny. You've always been funny... but none of your jokes will ever match the first one. Will they? You remember? Back when you ripped my mother open on your way out of her and she bled to death?" Cersei told him hatefully.
"She was my mother, too." Tyrion reminded her.
"Mother gone... for the sake of you. There's no bigger joke in the world than that." She said standing and walking to the door.
"What about Alastor? Joffrey had a bunch of babies that held bo threat to him butchered. What do you think he will do to the baby who poses the most threat? Even if he resembles Artos more as he grows older, he will always look more like the late king." Tyrion called out to her. Cersei paused momentarily feeling the icy chill of fear run up her spine. Shaking it off she continued her way. She could handle Joffrey, right? She thought to herself.

Cersei stopped in front of Alastor's door and peered inside. She felt her face scrunch up at the sight of Sansa sleeping against the edge of his cot. Alastor planing happily with her fingers as he gently petted the strands of ginger hair that felling inside the cotton comfort if his bed.

[Sorry this came out later than intended. My hand has been aching and I was fit for a cast so typing hasn't been easy. Tank you for reading! Thank you for the patients.]