Robert Baratheon took his now 14 name day old daughter in his arms, and pulled her into a loving embrace. His fur coat tickled her nose and she laughed into his large belly, as he lifted her up in the air, and spun her thrice around before placing her gently to the warm floor. It was her birthday today, Cersei and Robert had been planning a huge feast in her honor today, and of course, Renly demanded they throw her a ball. This was the day that most everyone in her home was able to collaborate and laugh together.

Her uncle Renly descended from the stairs just then, a handsome smile placed delicately on his lips as his blue eyes watched them carefully. He allowed them a few more precious moment together before he let out a couch, earning their attention.

"Are you ready for our hunt, brother?" Renly asked Robert, and her father let a small grunting noise come from the back of his throat, as to say yes, before he let Mary down and put his hands on her shoulders. Mary stared at her father, who's blue eyes flickered from his brother, to her. He smiled, his cheeks puffing out, making his eyes look like slits. He knelt down on one knee, and his scruffy eyebrows curled up as he sighed, staring into her eyes.

"You are the most beautiful girl in the entire world, you know that?" He told her lovingly, cupping her face in his large hands, rolling his thumbs just under her long lower lashes. She laughed at him, and shook his hands away and Renly's smile widened.

"You tell me all the time, father." She rolled her eyes. He released a hearty laugh, and took her under his arm, guiding her to the door so she could see him off. He left her there, ruffling her hair with his large hand, and she received a small kiss from her Uncle before the two Baratheon men mounted their horses and trotted off, laughing with one another about things Mary couldn't hear or understand.

"I'll bring you back the head of the biggest boar we find!" Her father exclaimed, directing his loud brag towards her, though he could not find the will to turn his horse around so he could face her.

"I'll be expecting it!" She yelled back, earning a small laugh from Renly, who waved his hand to her, an air kiss lining the glove now. She watched them ride away until she couldn't see them anymore, before running back inside, the heat proving to be too much for her.

"Godrey!" She yelled for the servant she liked best. He was a dark skinned man with bright blue eyes, a mute too. Mother told Mary that he was someone she shouldn't talk to too much because it was rude, but her father had told Mary that the boy was a traitor who's tongue was cut off as punishment for stealing bread from one of Casterly rocks markets. The man approached her and bowed. "Will you fetch me a chunk from the ice block?" She asked and he bowed once more before hastily retrieving the ice. She thanked him, and then ran up the stairs to get to her chambers, but soon crashed into the arms of her handsome uncle.

"Oh, Mary!" He exclaimed, catching her as she fumbled on her feet, the ice slipping in her arms. He smiled at her lovingly, as she then squeezed his mid section, where she just hit with all the force in her body. "Mary, don't run in the halls, please." He raised his light brows sternly and she nodded her head, crossing her heart in promise, though they both knew she was crossing her fingers. He smiled knowingly and gave her a kiss on the temple, allowing her to dash away again.

She ran into her room, past her younger siblings and slammed the door, hopping on her bed, sprawling out and placing the smaller peice of ice on her belly, and reaching for her notebook. Hours passed as Mary sat writing short stories of Ice Giants and strong heroes saving maidens, a talent she developed without Tyrion by her side over the past few weeks. She loved it, and couldn't wait for her favorite little lion man to return home so he could read it. She soon heard a knock on her door, a familiar voice sounding on the other side, making her snap the brown leather book hastily.

"Are you decent, Mary? May I come in?" The voice asked. The tender, yet raspy voice was immediately recognizable, belonging to that of her 'uncle' Ned. The past few weeks, Ned had stayed her family, seeing as he had been honored with the title as the hand of the king, and Mary loved his company. He had that cold edge that only the people of the North could ever really hold. He looked like his sons Robb and Jon, though in different ways. He was very handsome in her eyes.

"Yes, come in!" She replied with a smile. Ned approached her with somewhat of a serious face. "Is everything alright, uncle Eddard?" She asked hesitantly, his dull grey eyes looked into hers for a brief second before he faked a smile, his eyes shooting to the floor.

"Yes, my lady, thank you," He nodded to her, obviously lying, taking a step forward. "And happy name day." He gave her a curt nod with a strained smile. Mary curtsied in return.

"What can I do for you?" She asked, obviously feeling confused by her uncle's strangely morbid aura. He shook his head though, waving his hand slightly, looking up, even though he was still avoiding her eyes.

"Your mother calls for you," He said to her still looking just past her head. "You best hurry to her." He smiled with an exhausted look carved into his rugged features, and his head drooped a bit. She nodded and scampered out of her room. He followed out and shut the door behind him. She could feel his stare, but decided not to pay attention to it. She made her way to the dining hall, assuming that since it was breakfast time, that's where she would be, but found the room empty. She frowned in confusion and turned the other way, soon enough running into her elder brother.

"Where are you going, little sister?" He asked sparing her a glance, stopping in his tracks to pose his question.

"Nowhere, Jof," She said, rocking on her heels and he gave her an angry kind of pout. He would probably lecture her on his royal right to know, or something like, 'as future king I demand you tell me' and Mary decided that she wanted to avoid that speech, especially because it was her name day and she didn't want him to spoil it. "Well, mother called me to meet with her, but she wasn't in for breakfast." And his features softened as he became distracted.

"She's in the main hall," He told her. "She called me too." He said, offering his arm to his younger sister. She took it in hers and they walked down together, neither of them saying much to the other after that.

Upon entering the room they both felt something very strange and out of place. They peeked at one another before walking to their mother slowly, sitting at the fine oak wood table. When they sat, they also noticed they were the only children and that it was very grim, both Myrcella and Tommen were probably playing around in the beaches. Their mother didn't look at them, not even to offer a comforting smile. She had an arched brow and protruded lips like she was in thought of what to say. Soon she inhaled and told them the terrible news.

"Your father was impaled by a wild boar while hunting." She said with her chin raised, looking neither of them in the eyes still. Mary covered a gasping whimper with both her hands, while Joffrey's mouth parted slightly, a small inhalation of a shocked breath sounding from him. Mary felt her eyes stinging with tears already, and her mother could see how hard the girl was trying not to cry, and she wouldn't cry, not in front of her mother, and especially not Joffrey.

"Where is he?" Joffrey finally asked, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

"In our chambers," She said to him. "You may both see him soon if you wish. They've bandaged him up." She said with a motherly smile of reassurance. Mary nodded her head and swallowed a lump in her throat.

"May I be excused?" Mary asked, her voice trembling and her hand doing the same as she lowered it to the table. Her mother nodded, seeing the sorrow in her girl's eyes.

Mary ran off, tripping occasionally over her feet, but it was not enough to really slow her down. Her eyes felt like they were melting away and the tears stung her soft cheeks which were not adapted to the liquid sorrow that blurred her vision. A raspy cry emanated from her dry throat as she fell to her knees in the middle of a hallway, scraping her knees on the scratchy rug. Her head hung low as she sobbed and she soon began slapping herself.

"Do not cry! Stop crying!" She told herself. "Stop it, stop it, stop it." She whispered now and sooner or later she picked herself up again and went into her room, grabbing a short children's book Tyrion had given her when she first began to read with him, and continued on to her father's room. Upon entering, she saw Joffrey, grasping his father's hand and looking as if he were going to cry. Mary stood aside, watching them speak until her father finally took note of her.

"Little Fawn," He whispered through a smile. "Come here." He said. She sat opposite to Joffrey and took her father's free hand. SHe gave him a small smile, trying her hardest not to let the tears hanging onto her hazel eyes dribble off her chin again.

"Father, I brought you a story." She smiled fondly, showing it to him and he began to smile when Joffrey scoffed.

"He doesn't want to hear one of your stupid stories!" Joffrey exclaimed irritably, holding Robert's hand tighter, and Robert frowned at his heir.

"Boy," He spat. "You be kind to your sister. If I am to leave you as king when I die, you will treat her as more of a queen than your own mother." He finished off, Joffrey hanging his head now, but never leaving his father's touch. Though, Robert would have moved his hand away from Joffrey had he the strength to. "Read, Mary. Please." he said, still shooting Joffrey a disappointed look.

Mary choked back those tears once again as she released his hands to open the book.

"Once upon a time, in a land with grass as tall as trees, and trees as tall as mountains, there lived a brave stag," She began, and already her father smiled, closing his eyes a little, which made her even more scared, she couldn't lose him right now. She began to shake, and shut the book soon after that first line. "I can't read anymore." She began to sob. Robert pressed a hand to her shoulder, an unintentional reminder to her of how silly she was acting. She opened the book again, trying to restart shaking her head, when her father put his weak hand to her face, forcing her chin up.

"Little fawn," He smiled. "Too sweet for her own good." He whispered. Her uncle Ned soon came in, and Robert dismissed Joffrey and Mary both.

Her Uncle Renly sat out with them, Joffrey ignoring his Baratheon uncle and sister. Renly held Mary to his chest as she released everything inside of her, her salty tears dipping onto his shirt, dampening it slightly, which he didn't mind, he just continued to coo her.

"Uncle Ren?" She whimpered soon, her hushed voice just barely reaching his ears. He grunted in response, afraid his cool demeanor would vanish if he had to utter a word just then. "Why does father have to die?" She asked. He exhaled, his hot breath hitting her soft auburn hair while she sobbed. He kissed her temple.

"Because, it's-" He sighed. "It's just how things are." He shrugged, unsure of how to answer.

And that was that. Soon Ned came out to talk to her Uncle and he had to go too, leaving Joffrey and Mary to themselves. Mary was sniffling into her knees. She liked crying with her Uncle who was a Baratheon. She felt safe in his arms, whereas with the Lannisters, she felt judged and weak. She could feel Joffrey's gaze on her, sure he was displaying distaste for her actions, but when she looked at him, she didn't see hate or disgust, just indifference.

"Stop crying," He said with a quiet, but stern voice. Mary did as told. She rubbed her eyes and stood up, the shadow of a crying girl on her flushed face. "I'll be needed in the hall soon. Mother has my Governess setting up for my lessons." Joffrey told her, towering over her. "Care to join me?" He asked, putting his arm up. She lifted herself off the floor and hunched herself over, folding her arms across her chest. She went on, not taking his arm like he had wanted her to. "He always liked you better." Joffrey said after her his voice quiet. She stopped and turned to look at him. He looked angry from that distance, but the closer he came, the more she saw the sadness hidden under his emerald eyes. He held his arm out again and she took it this time.

"He loves us all equally." She said after a long pause, and he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Don't tell me you're still so naive," He scowled. "Parents pick favorites, and children do too." He whispered now, almost fearfully so, like his father may hear him. Mary stared at Joffrey with her bushy brows furrowed.

"Still," She started, gently rubbing her brother's arm comfortingly. "Parents will always love their children." She echoed her uncle's words lovingly. Joffrey looked down at her and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her, still mad about her naive mindset, but he smiled instead. Not that sadistic smile he did when he had done something bad, but a kind, brotherly smile, and he kissed her cheek, which took her by surprise.

"I can't wait until you see just how bad people can be." He said quietly, but still loud enough for her to hear. She looked away now, up ahead, and pondered this sadly as he escorted her triumphantly. "Happy name day."

When her father died, Mary refused to cry. She went to his bedside later in the day and stayed with him all afternoon talking, then slowly fell asleep. She awoke soon after and found that he never would. She just looked at him for a while and curled up by the remaining warmth he still held in his large corpse. Her uncle Renly found her and led her away, taking her to her room, and she complied, making no effort to stay or go. She didn't leave her room for the rest of her day. The name day presents sat in the corner of her room, untouched, the feast cancelled.

She rarely left her room anymore, let alone her home, she grew to be paler than the residents of Winterfell. She never sought the company of anyone, though everyone tried to bring her back to the real world. No one mourned like her, no one missed him like she did, because she actually cared. Her mother, married to bring 2 kingdoms together, or more so to sit as queen, Renly only loving his brother because of blood, than leaving apparently as soon as he took her to her room. Her siblings cried a little, but the two were young and would cry at any death, then they just went on, happy and smiling and playing in the sun. It sickened Mary. And now Joffrey sat on the throne.

Mary couldn't stand the sight of him up there. Sure, she loved him, but Joffrey was not a ruler. Not a good one at least. Apparently, she wasn't the only one to think so, because Eddard Stark had been thrown in the dungeons for treason. She'd asked many times to visit him, but every time her mother would say no, telling Mary that Eddard was not a man to be trusted and that he questioned Joffrey's place on the throne and that his family held Uncle Jaime captive.

But Mary desperately wanted to meet with him. None of her other uncles were there to comfort her and he was all she had left. She sneaked out of her room and past the guards to find her Uncle Ned on the floor of his cell, a soft snore emanating from his dry lips. She took out the sack of water from her bag and woke him up. He gave her a surprised look, but took the water she was offering and swallowed it all down, then wiping his mouth.

"You shouldn't be here." He said, steadying his breath. Mary knelt down, leveling herself with him.

"Why don't you think Joffrey is the true heir." She questioned him. She'd heard the rumors, but they came from commoners. She needed to hear it from her uncle. He looked away from her with a sigh, but she snatched up his jaw in her soft hand. "Tell me." She demanded. He couldn't find the strength to move his head away but he didn't have the heart to tell her.

"He-He is not of age. Robert's younger brother Stannis should hold the throne until you brother-"

"Don't lie to me, uncle Eddard." She clenched her teeth and tightened his grip and in his steely grey eyes she saw sorrow and exhaust.

"Mary," He started. "I don't know if I can-"

"Eddard!" She yelled cutting him off for the second time, tears starting to swell in her eyes as she released him from her grip, so she could work at not letting a tear slip. "Tell me." She demanded now and he knew then that he had to tell her.

"For generations the Baratheon's children have had black hair, an blue eyes," He started after a moment, than pausing. "Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen all have blonde hair and green eyes." He said. She shuttered, knowing what he was saying.

"But uncle, I don't have black hair and blue eyes either." She furrowed her brows. He looked up at her and took a moment to observe her features, staring into her eyes.

"Your eyes are that of your grandfather Tywin, a greenish gold, called hazel." He smiled in a sort of relief. "And your hair is dark like Robert's but with some lightness, like your mother's. You are a Baratheon. I'm certain of it." He said comfortingly, putting a hand to her cheek.

"And Joffrey is not." She whispered, looking at her fingers. When he didn't say anything, her eyes flickered up. He shook his head and to her surprise she began to cry, curling up to the cold metal bars. He put a hand to her shoulder and she wept harder. The rumors were true. She had known, deep down, but this confirmation was so overwhelming. She was heartbroken. She wanted her father to hold her, she wanted her uncle Tyrion to tell her clever jokes, she wanted her grandpa Tywin to tell her about all his conquests, She wanted Renly to sing her songs like he used to, she wanted Stannis to help her with her grammar studies. She missed everyone, except for her blonde uncle and mother. She hated Cersei and Jaime right now. She despised them for the shame they brought her family. The humiliation they made her feel for even being associated with them, the absolute disrespect they put to the name of the crown and the iron throne and kings landing.

"You ought to go back home, Mary," He said gently and she shook her head. "Your family will worry."

"I can't face those monsters." She spat. "Any of 'em. They're all liars and pigs. I hate it here." She said, though she didn't entirely mean it. They both knew that.

"Mary." He moved closer to her, closing his hand over hers. He didn't know what else to say, and he didn't know entirely what he was trying to communicate, but to her it was strengthening. It was an assurance. She nodded her head, and stood.

"Goodbye, Uncle Ned," She said, looking down at him. "I'll send Sansa your love." She said more so out of courtesy. She never saw Sansa much, so her words in her eyes would prove to be lies, but Eddard looked so happy to have heard her say that, that she thought she might just do it.

She left him then, not turning around, not waiting for his answer. She just left. She had thought she saw some hooded figure out of the corner of her eye walk past her. But she decided to ignore it. She continued on, and sneaked back into her bedroom before her mother could try and talk to her again.

She undressed, and slipped on her night gown, crawling into her bed and curling up so her knees pressed against her chest. It took her a long while to even really feel sleepy, and when she was finally able to close her eyes and daze off, a knock sounded at her door. Annoyed, she dragged herself from her bed, and wrapped a sheet around herself. She stopped at the door and yawned.

"Who is it?" She asked rubbing her eyes. The sound of knocking continued, the person on the other side of the door, not answering. She furrowed her brows, and looked through the small crack of the wood. She saw a bright red dress with gold trimming, and knew it was her mother. She clenched her teeth and stood up straight. "Go away, mother." She said bitterly, hopping back on her bed.

Cersei opened the door anyways, a hesitant look on her face as she entered. Mary scowled and hid under her covers.

"Mary," Her mother said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed now. "Why won't you talk to me anymore?" Her lightly tanned hand reaching to touch her daughter's leg, but Mary squirmed away and sealed her eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep. Trying to avoid her mother and all the hateful reminders that trailed behind her like her golden hair did.

"Because I don't want to." She grudged. Cersei frowned deeper.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice seeming so exhausted and broken. Cersei loved her children, and to see one so angry and sad all the time broke her heart. Mary rose up, looking her mother straight into her mothers gaze, a fire burning in the golden flecks of Mary's eyes.

"For you to leave," She clenched her teeth. "Or for me to fly far away." Her voice grew, then shrunk when she saw the look of hurt in her mother's grassy eyes. She stared into them a while longer before putting her head back down, and covering her face with the blanket. After a seemingly endless pause, the weight on the end of her bed lifted. She heard small footsteps fading away and the sound of the door shutting seemed to echo.

She felt a small pang of guilt in her stomach, but she couldn't feel bad for long. She just couldn't.

The next day, Mary felt the urge to walk the castle grounds like she used to. It felt odd being out there again, her sweat sticky, making her clothes cling to her body a bit awkwardly. She had clipped her hair back in hopes of it staying nice and dry, and so it wouldn't stick to the back of her neck. She walked in hopes of finding someone to talk to, but it seemed the only people around were her family, and she could do without them. But it seemed they weren't done with her.

"Mary?" Her brother's soft voice carried through the garden. Mary stopped in her tracks, listening to his footsteps, finding that there was another set of feet with him. She turned and saw the smug smile on Joffrey's thin tight lips, and the burnt scowl on Sandor Clegane's face as he listened to a master he so obviously disliked. Mary kept her eye on the Hound. "It's so good to see you out, dear sister!" He exclaimed almost mockingly, stopping a few inches in front of her. She looked down at her shoes and faked a small smile.

"Yes well, I thought it might be time to move on with my life," She said, looking into his eyes. His inbred Lannister emerald's that shone so brightly in the sun, like some sick reminder of his heritage. "It's very lovely to see you too, brother." She curtsied. He held his arm out and she took it, replacing Sandor Clegane's position by Joffrey's right side, though he still followed them closely when they walked.

"I heard you visited someone recently," He said after a moment of silence more. Mary tensed up, Sandor noticed and his brows furrowed further. "Who was it?" He asked knowingly. Mary swallowed a lump in her throat and raised her chin a little higher.

"Uncle Eddard," She told him truthfully. He faked a small gasp and stopped walking, forcing her and Sandor to halt as well.

"You do know he is a traitor to your brother, and king, do you not?" He asked with such false surprise that it made Mary want to throw him some sarcasm back, just as Tyrion would, though she advised herself against it. She nodded her head. "And so, conspiring with a traitor, would make your actions well... treason. Wouldn't you agree? But I wouldn't want to throw my lovely little sister into the prison cells." He said, taking her chin between his fingers.

"Joff," She began with an exhalation. "I-I went down, to find out why he betrayed you. I was angry. I wasn't conspiring, I just- I needed to slap him before he was-" She stopped, taking a moment to let the word escape her lips. "Executed." She finally said feeling a little overwhelmed. Joffrey released her, not knowing whether he believed the story or not, but deciding to let her go.

"Well, we wouldn't want mother to find out, would we?" He finally said, releasing her arm and walking briskly away. She stayed still for a moment before Sandor came to her side.

"Best not provoke him, m'lady," He warned. "He's the type who'd sentence his own kin to death." He walked off then, not giving her time to respond. She pouted and sat on a bench nearby.

She had just begun to scold herself for leaving her house when she heard a new voice call for her. She turned, only to see the famous Petyr Baelish walking towards her with his classic 'Littlefinger' grin that never seemed genuine to her. She stood, and curtsied to him, and he returned the favor with a low bow, though keeping his greenish grey eyes glued on her. She sat back down and he took the spot just by her.

"My lady, you're looking well. You are a sight for sore eyes I might say." He flattered her, making her feel warm in the cheeks.

"Thank you lord Baelish. It's good to see you again." She said out of courtesy. She'd been so rude to so many people for so long that it actually felt nice to remove her true feelings from any picture. His grin widened as he shifted closer to her.

"I'm assuming you'll be attending the execution of our dear friend Ned?" He asked something hidden in his voice. She looked down and nodded her head. She felt his fingers on her chin and he pushed it up a little, making her look at him. He offered her a lopsided grin and tsked in false sympathy. "Such a shame. Making a pretty girl so sad all over again. She's lost so much already." He whispered gently. She looked at him with her big, sad, hazel eyes and he kissed her hand. His lips were soft and careful. Had she not known of his reputation, she would have found this actually very nice. She gave a nod of her head and put her hand on her lap, looking away from him.

'Thank you for your condolences, lord Baelish." She thanked him, almost sadly. He straightened his back.

"Please, call me Petyr." He placed a hand to his chest delicately.

"Thank you, Petyr." She smiled, turning to look at him. Petyr had always been kind, a bit suspicious in his actions at times, but overall, she thought very highly of the lord. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow?" She asked, and he tilted his head with furrowed brows. "For the execution." She urged on.

"Ah." He breathed, understanding now. "Sadly, I will not be able to attend his farewell party. Business and such. Small council meetings, too. With your Uncle Renly fleeing the kingdom, we must work double as hard. The lords of small council have been... lacking recently." He said, standing now. "But, don't worry. Lord Varys and I are quite capable." He smiled. "If you'd like to talk tomorrow though, you'll know where to find me. I'm always available to a friend."

"And a Lannister always pays their debts." She smiled, knowing that would be just what he wanted to hear. The only reason a man like him is kind is because he knows the kindness will be repaid. He gave her a nicer smile than before and bowed, turning on his heels and walking away.

She watched him leave and then felt once again very sad. Being left alone with her thoughts was not something she enjoyed, and soon, she'd have to watch another man she loved die, and though she knew Sansa was to bear the burden more, Mary couldn't bring herself to think of comforting the fire haired girl. A Lannister always pays her debts, but Sansa didn't have a debt. She offered no comfort to Mary when she needed it. She had apologized for Mary's loss once, so that's all Mary would do.

The Lannister in her veins felt eminent in the absence of her Baratheon family. She didn't know if that was good or bad.