| CHAPTER ONE; The Crept's Secret Whisper | —————————————————————
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"It was queer how sometimes a child's innocent eyes can see things that grown men are blind to."
—George R.R. Martin
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ROBERT BARATHEON AND HIS family had arrived, along with his troops. As he walked up to his best friend, Deidamia stared blankly at the slow below her feet. Her mind was in his own little world until a large tummy clouded her vision. An excited, loud voice broke her from her daydream. "Deidamia Stark, what a sight have grown to be." Robert smiled, taking her small hand.
Ned did not notice how touchy Robert was with his daughter, his friend was innocent in his eyes. Ned couldn't think of a reason for anyone to hate the man. So, he allowed for Robert to touch and flirt with his little girl, also ignoring how terribly uncomfortable she looked as Robert placed his chubby hand on her cheek.
"Thank you, My Lord." Deidamia smiled, gracefully curtsying.
Robert stood in silence, staring at the twelve-year-old child who stood a foot shorter than him. A small smile graced his lips as Deidamia stood in from of him, as he stared, he could only think of one woman. The late Lyanna Stark, the woman whom many had begun to accidentally compare Deidamia to.
As Deidamia grew, the more her own father accidentally called her by her dead aunt's name. Her father always spoke of Lyanna, comparing Deidamia to her, speaking of how much the two looked alike. But Ned was not the only one who saw this, Robert did as well. And that is exactly why he had been staring at her for a minute straight, thinking of the young lady that he thought he loved. When really, he only met the girl once, falling into obsession over the Northern beauty, nothing more. He did not know the real Lyanna, as Ned did...he never would.
Robert had been actively preying on little Deidamia since the first day he saw her as a babe. No matter how disgusting the truth was, it would always come out. Sooner or later, but not never.
Jon Snow, the sixteen-year-old bastard, who was standing behind his family, saw the occurrence. Causing him to loudly clear his throat, noticing the king's disgusting behavior. Jon was not stupid, he knew what perverted eyes looked like, and Robert Baratheon's eyes were the epitome of what young Jon Snow knew.
Thankfully, Robert broke from his inappropriate staring, all due to Jon. Robert then moved to the next child, leaving Deidamia to stare straight forward with tears in her eyes. Thinking of the words Jon had spoken to her earlier that day, 'No matter how he looks at you, or how much...do not pay him any of your mind. You will only make him want you even more. You have to trust me. When have I ever lied to you?' Are the words that he had spoken, those very words ringing in her ears.
Deidamia took the chance to glance over her shoulder at Jon, but as Jon looked over to her, his eyes locked with her glassy ones. As if she were ashamed of herself— even when not at fault, she snapped her head away. Lacing her fingers together in order to pick at the skin of her thin, pale fingers.
—
After dinner had taken place, Deidamia decided to take a visit down to the crept. She had no one to visit down below the surface, that much was true. But she did often go there to pray, allowing her to speak out loud and freely without repercussions.
Deidamia paused in the middle of her prayer, thinking about how she was loved as a babe, but as she grew older, she wasn't known for herself...but for Lyanna Stark, her late aunt. Deidamia looked just like her aunt, so much so that her father often called the young girl by his sister's name. But he wasn't the only one who confused her with Lyanna— another man did as well. Robert Baratheon.
That very man who had just arrived in the same spot Deidamia was sat, praying in the crept when the old king came down as well. After drunkenly raping his Lannister wife, he decided to drink even more. Before taking a visit down below, in order to say hello to his supposed 'true love.'
But as the drunk man caught sight of the twelve-year-old girl, he stood over her. As if she felt his presence, her eyes opened and she looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes of hers. Just like Lyanna's. Robert grabbed her suddenly, causing her to let out a scream. He picked her up easily and held her to the wall, kissing her neck roughly. She screamed, cried, and kicked. She did all she could, and the last thing she heard was, "Lyanna." He whispered into her ear, just before she fell to the ground. Upon hearing a big bang.
She looked up through tear-filled eyes, Cersei Lannister standing over her husband whom she hated so. Cersei had nothing but sorrow and hatred in her eyes as she stared at the man that she had just hit upside the head. Knowing he would wake up with no memory of what had just happened, despite the feeling of a killing headache.
"My Queen?" Deidamia whimpered as she looked up at the woman from her spot on the floor where she was curled up into a tight ball.
Cersei looked over to the Stark girl, she knew that she was unable to feel real sympathy for anyone but herself...but she felt something for this little girl. And for once, it was not hate. "Shh, do not cry, Little Sheep." Thus, one of Deidamia's many nicknames came to life as Cersei leaned down to softly pick the little girl up.
Cersei wrapped the Stark girl's legs around her waist, Deidamia taking the initiative to wrap her arms around the Queen's neck. As Cersei walked away from her husband, she held Deidamia securely, and one thing was for sure. Deidamia knew that no one had ever held her so carefully.
Cersei cradled Deidamia's small head in her palm, holding her head to her chest. Her free arm wrapped around the little girl's waist, her hand on her bottom in order to keep her from falling. Cersei held the girl just as she would hold a baby, gentle as a flower. It was as if Cersei only knew how to be gentle when it came to the most innocent children. But only her children...so, it surprised her greatly when she decided to comfort the little girl.
But deep down, she knew why. The only problem was...she would never know of the true reason.
When Cersei tucked the crying princess into her fur-coated bed, she began wondering. Why must little girls go through such horrors, especially from the most disgusting men? Why was it that the Gods seemed to punish little children? How could the world be so cruel? She would wonder. Ignoring the fact that she, herself—was also cruel.
