Chapter Text
What could be more important than the heir to the Iron Throne? The firstborn son of Robert of House Baratheon and his golden queen Cersei of House Lannister. Representing the rebellion’s hope for a better future.
The one who will have to shoulder the legacy of the current ruler.
The one that could either make or break the new dynasty.
The Baratheon princeling, conceived in the wake of spilled Dragon’s lifeblood.
There were few things in the aftermath of the Stag King’s ascension that could be classified as truly joyful and untouched by grief for the ghosts of yesterday. Even the golden wedding was marred by a whispered name of ice.
Yet life still moved on. The demands of daily life as order was restored couldn’t be ignored even by the new royal family. A bureaucracy that needed to be built from the ashes of the last while the game for favour and positions of power grew increasingly petty and spiders laid their foundations of their shadowed webs.
In the midst of all this a child was born. A black haired boy whose birth took its toll on both mother and child. In this world the infant child was prone to sickness but he never suffered from the fever that otherwise would have taken his life. It was as though the Seven themselves had been deliberating over the child’s right to live. However close to the Stranger’s grasp the boy came, ultimately Cersei was watched over by the Mother and didn’t have to have her baby torn from her. Though the Father might have equally interfered as the specific soul of the newborn in question was one that most definitely had few quirks that must have been judged with great interest. It might even be argued that the Crone laid her hand over the child as it was granted the wisdom of his past life.
Once the uncertainty over the child’s life expectancy passed the next point of contention spurred new verbal assault. The naming.
The King himself struck down an endless line of suggestions of past ancestors. Even the Queen mother’s hissed suggestion of honoring her own family's importance to the rebellions conclusion was shown little interest. It was after a successful hunt in the God’s woods that Robert visited the nursery and was struck by brilliance. He stared at the furrowed scowl of the child that seemed to be targeted directly at him and knew that the name could be no other than Fury, that which drives every member of the House of Baratheon. A declaration of their words so that no one would be allowed to forget what happens when the Stag’s blood is provoked to anger. A name for a new era.
And so King Robert of House Baratheon fell in love for the second time in his life. Where he first saw a future worth striving for that didn’t involve his winter rose. As such he never quite grew to indulge in as much excess as he otherwise would.
It cannot be said that Cersei was pleased with the name but with her husband's determined enthusiasm for the child’s future she would come to more or less tolerate or at least ignore his less desirable traits and even as she came to build her own influence in court she didn’t actively seek to undermine him. Not that this later stopped her from straying into familiar arms.