Hi everyone! this is my first story for Game of Thrones! I have a few other stories for various fantoms, but have never been able to finish them because of a loss of inspiration, but with multiple chapters written ahead of time and GoT being as awesome as it is I know that won't happen this time. Anyway on with the story, and please review and let me know if you guys like the story or not.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, or any characters in this story other than my OC main character.

Robert Baratheon stood pacing outside his chambers, restlessly awaiting news from inside. His wife, Cersei, was in labor with their first child, hopefully an heir to the iron throne. His relationship with his wife was at best described as cool. At times Robert pitied Cersei, who entered their marriage hoping to be swept up into a love like those of legends, but reality had knocked her down to the hard truth. Robert's heart was taken and would forever belong to Lyanna Stark. Their love was one of legends, one that sparked Robert to rebel against the ruling Targaryens. And as he finally fought to her at the Tower of Joy, it was too late, and Lyanna Stark was dead. Dead she may be, but Robert's love for her lived on consuming him. He prayed to the gods that they would finally give him release from the pain he lived with. And he hoped this child would be that relief. Lost as he was in his thoughts, Robert's attention was pulled back as one of Cersei's handmaidens rushed out of the room. As she caught sight of him she ran up and quickly bowed before beckoning him into the chambers. Upon entering he heard a sound that was like music to his ears, the sound of a baby crying. As Robert approached the side of the bed he looked upon his wife. Cersei looked as stunning as ever, with her golden hair shining with a light sheen of sweat, slightly out of breath as she stared at the small bundle in her arms. She finally looked up and notices Robert staring at the bundle of blankets in her hand.

"It's a boy Robert, our sweet baby boy," Cersei said, unable to keep the smile she was wearing from showing through her words. She moved to hand the bundle to Robert, who took his son in his arms for the first time, a look of uncertainty and fear making a rare appearance on his strong features. Robert looked down at the child and his breath hitched in his throat. The child's cries became less and less as he calmed in the arms of his father, until he finally stopped altogether. The baby had the slightest bit of hair on hid head, but what was there was as black as night, just like Robert's, and when the child finally opened his eyes and looked upon Robert's face, his father's face, for the first time, Robert felt like he was looking into a mirror. His son's eyes were a light blue so bright and so striking, that one couldn't help but get lost in them.

"He looks just like you Robert. Just like a Baratheon," Cersei said in a breathless tone, watching the exchange, trying but failing to tame the feeling of hope welling up inside her that maybe this child would finally be enough for Robert to overcome his memories of Lyanna Stark and to finally love her. "What shall we name him?" Cersei asked, giving the honor of naming the child to the king.

Robert thought on it for a moment, wanting this child who was so obviously Baratheon to have a traditional Baratheon name. Finally his thought came to his own family and he decided on the name of his own father. Robert looked up at his wife, an intensity unlike any she had ever seen upon his face, and he said, " Steffon, his name will be Steffon."

"Prince Steffon Baratheon," Cersei said dreamily, smiling at the sound of the name. She glanced back up at Robert, wanting his face to show the same love for her that hers was conveying to him. Instead she was met by a quick, dismissive look, as he walked over to the window, his eyes only on his son. It was then that Cersei finally realized the truth of it. He may love our son, but he will never love me. And in that moment something within Cersei hardened, a shell to protect her from Robert's dislike of her and her family. In time Cersei knew she would grow her own hate for him, and make sure his remaining years on this earth served as a constant reminder to him of his failure as a husband. Jaime was right, Robert would never be half the man that Jaime is, Cersei thought. She vowed from that moment on that Steffon would be the only child she would let Robert put in her. Her thoughts were interrupted by Robert walking up and handing their son back to her, giving he boy one last look before he left the room. Looking back down at him, Cersei was struck once again by how much he looked like his father. At that Cersei handed the boy over to her wet nurse and, claiming exhaustion, expelled all from her room, inwardly warring with herself over her son. In the end, Cersei fell asleep knowing that the sad reality of her marriage would forever come between her and her love for Steffon.

Ten Years Later:

Young Steffon Baratheon clutched the reins of his horse, Storm, with far more force than was necessary, but found he couldn't help it, he was just so cold. Steffon looked around at his escort, Baratheon guards all of them, his father too proud to let any of mother's men escort him to the North. At this, Steffon grew angry. He didn't understand why he had to go to Winterfell. He knew Lord Eddard Stark was father's closest and dearest friend, except maybe for Lord Arryn, but he wanted to remain in King's Landing. But father had told him it was time for him to foster with another great lord, to learn the manners and honor that was expected of a prince of Westeros. He knew his father was reluctant, since Steffon was in his father's own words, his only reprieve from the Lannisters, but still his father sent him away. Steffon begged to be sent somewhere closer, like to Storm's End with his Uncle Renly, or possibly Dragonstone with his Uncle Stannis, but in the end his father was firm in his decision. Every time they argued about it his father said the same thing, "There is no man in all the world who I would trust to teach you right more than Ned Stark." And every time his father spoke these words, Steffon knew that the discussion was over. Steffon sighed inwardly, once again shaken from his thoughts by the bite of the cold wind.

"My prince, there she is, Winterfell is finally within our sights," one of the guards said to him. As Steffon looked up in front of him he saw it to be true. Rising up from the ground a few leagues ahead of them was Winterfell in all its might. The oldest kingdom of Westeros, Winterfell was built by the First Men, who the Starks were directly descended from. Steffon could not help but be mesmerized by its wander. The closer they got the more he could see that it was no surprise Winterfell had stood for so long, It's walls and it's keep looking as if no force in the world could penetrate them. And in truth no force had, the Starks had willingly gave up their crown and bent the knee when Aegon the Conqueror appeared with his dragons and united the Seven Kingdoms. No one had ever forcefully conquered the north or the Starks. And as Steffon looked on at his knew home, he knew that no one ever would. The North bowed to those it deemed worthy, and nothing could change that.

Finally the party arrived at the gates, riding through them with a feel of exhaustion from the month-long journey radiating off of every member of the group. As Steffon looked into the courtyard he saw that everyone who lived in Winterfell was lined up in anticipation for his arrival.

Steffon dismounted Storm, feeling for the first time how sore he truly was and walked forward, determined not to show any signs of his pain. He was the son and heir of the king after all, and a Baratheon at that. Never show weakness of any kind, because once you do, you become prey to the lions, words his father told him often throughout his ten years. As a child, he never understood his father's hatred for his mother's family. His mother was always kind to him, if a bit distant, until his brother Joffrey was born, at which point Steffon cried many nights believing his mother didn't love him. Eventually, whether through his own realizations or through the constant words of his father, Steffon steeled himself against the pain of loss he felt. He resented his mother for it, but could not resent his baby brother for something he could not control. In truth, he was his father's son through and through, both in look and in demeanor, while Joffrey, all blonde hair and green eyes, was more Lannister than Baratheon.

Shaking away thoughts of his family Steffon approached the Starks, the tall man with dark hair and grey eyes Steffon immediately knew to be his father's friend, Lord Stark. Lord Stark and his wife along with their son and daughter all bowed as he stood in front of them.

"Prince Steffon, I bid you welcome to Winterfell," Lord Stark said looking right at Steffon with a strong gaze that was both hard and kind all in one. "May I introduce you to my wife, Catelyn, our baby Arya in her arms, my son Robb, and my daughter Sansa." Catelyn bowed her head and bid her own welcome to the North, as well as Robb, who looked to be around the same age as Steffon.

After receiving his greetings, Steffon respectfully bowed to Lord Stark and prepared himself to offer his own courtesies, "Thank Lord and Lady Stark for your most gracious welcome, and for taking me into your home. I hope I prove worthy of your agreeing to foster me, and I look forward to learning all that you can teach me. " The words rolling of Steffon's tongue effortlessly. Steffon was Baratheon in looks and demeanor, but his quick wit and silver tongue were all Lannister, owed to his mother and Uncles Jaime and Tyrion.

Ned Stark smiled at the boy and welcomed him into the keep, telling him of how it was built and how he met Steffon's father. Finally Steffon was shown to his chambers to bathe and prepare for dinner with his foster family. As Steffon looked out of the window on to the land of the North, Steffon would not think of anything else but the words of House Stark: Winter is Coming. How true the Starks tell it, Steffon thought. With a sigh he began to prepare for dinner and the beginning of his new life in the north. But Steffon couldn't help but think of his father, and wonder if his father was thinking about him at that same moment.