Introduction into the Royal Family

Lyonel ate a bit of the breakfast Bell brought him. He hadn’t been a morning-person before and most days just skipped breakfast, which is quite easy if you regularly sleep till noon. But his new life would need him to heed a more proper daily schedule, starting the day at dawn and calling it a night when the candles are burning low, not when his eyes hurt from the monitors brightness.

Cereal isn’t a thing in Westeros, obviously, but the baker outdid himself with the pastries and the fruits on Lyonels plate was exquisite, probably an import from Dorne. Or maybe the Reach? As much as Lyonel had loved the plot and the lore of the books, where which fruit grew wasn’t something he knew by heart.

He took a last bite from his plate, wiped his mouth and bid Bell farewell. While he ate his breakfast, she had redressed and cleaned up the room after their little romp. She stayed behind to pack his luggage and he departed the room. Before him now stood, ever vigilant, Barristan Selmy.

“Your Grace”, he bowed slightly. For a man his age, even more impressive in such a medieval context, he was still in great shape. No wonder he had become Lyonels teacher and mentor.

“Ser Barristan, a sight for sore eyes. Maybe now that we’ll be gone for a while, you can take a rest yourself and won’t have to guard some door all night”, his try at a joke only drew the lightest smirk from the knight.

“My duty ends when my life does the same. Until then I’ll guard whatever door my king thinks needs guarding”, his voice grew more conspirative,” besides that, I arrived here only moments before your breakfast. Your uncle had the nightshift.”

The two only knights left of Aerys old kingsguard had a rivalry going, Lyonel *remembered*. They were never close in the original timeline, but Lyonel as the crown prince being taught chivalry by the lord commander instead of his mothers brother, had driven another wedge between them. Of course Selmy stood above pettiness, but from time to time he shared a smile with his model student.

“Now let me bring you to your fathers quarters, he ordered me to bring you to him as soon as you’re ready.”

“Which I am, so I’ll follow you.”

Barristan Selmy took Lyonel to the royal chambers. Up the Red Keep, through winding stairs and past servants and lesser nobles hustling through the doors and corridors like bees through a hive on fire. Even with some days preparation, the royal excursion to the North had put them all in turmoil.

When they reached their destination, Selmy took his place guarding the door beside Ser Meryn Trant and Lyonel entered the ornate, two-wing door. His father already waited for him, as usual, sitting and with a pitcher of wine in front of him.

“Lyonel! What took you so long? If I wanted to wait this long, I would have told your mother to pick an evening gown!”, his laughter was loud enough for the two of them. But it was also infectious and so Lyonel joined him, even though he found the joke mediocre at best. He hadn’t gotten that impression while reading the books and only a little while watching the show, but with his new memories he knew Robert Baratheon as a really charismatic guy. He was still a prime example of drunkenness, gluttony and adultery, but something about him almost **** you to forgive him for it. He was a leader. And a good father to Lyonel.

“Well, you talk big when it’s just the two of us. I dare you to repeat that with mother in the room”, to that comeback the king raised his glass and Lyonel picked up his own, already filled strong wine.

Father and son shared a drink, an occurrence that has happened quite often in the past. The two of them were close. Robert had no idea how to raise a girl, so Myrcella was almost exclusively brought up by her mother and Tommen was too feeble and a true mama's boy. But Lyonel? He was a son Robert was truly proud of and always made time for. While Ser Barristan instructed him in knightly virtues and Grandmaester Pycelle had taught him formal knowledge and how to read, Robert had instilled in him the wisdom of a warrior.

“You’ll finally meet Ned, the best man north of the Neck! Seven hells, probably in all the kingdoms combined. I tell you son, we lived through the best times”, of which the king had told him on many occasions, “and the worst times”, of which he also told him repeatedly.

From his old world knowledge, Lyonel mainly remembered two qualities about Robert, he loved Lyanna and hated the Targaryens. And even after experiencing the traits that had earned Robert the loyalty and support of thousands, those two qualities still shined brightest for him.

“I’ll take you to the crypts if Ned will allow it. The Starks are a good family. Neds father, his brother, Lyanna”, his face grew before he took a long sip of whine, “You can pay your respect to the victims of the dragons madness, it will do you good to always remember to honour your subjects.”

The king collected himself and after another round from the wineskin, he salvaged the souring mood.

“Besides, if I remember correctly, Ned has a daughter or two. It is about time we pick a lucky lady from a major house to reign you in, huh?”, both of them shared another laugh, this time genuine. Lyonel thought about Sansa and what a lucky son of a gun he was to be reincarnated here.

His *father* and him continued their tipsy noon-talk until a servant made his entry, after knocking and waiting for approval of course, and told them the departure was growing closer. The king shushed him away, but the two of them still made their way to the Red Keeps front yard. What awaited Lyonel made him nearly **** on his own tongue.

Never in his old life had Lyonel found Lena Headys portrail on the show lacking, far from it, but this was a whole ‘nother level. The woman waiting for them in front of the traveling entourage was a vision in red and gold. A woman that you would have known to be a queen, even if you saw her for the first time. Her dress was, from what Lyonel would have guessed with his limited knowledge of fabrics, made of golden silk. The long, tight fitting gown was sprinkled with red gems, rubies probably. What he noticed next was probably more expensive still, her hair. Whenever the sun hit it in the right angle, her blond curls shone like molten gold. Compared to her hair, her expensive golden gown looked only bleakly yellow. These locks framed a face that had a regal, mature kind of beauty, but also seemed immune to actual aging. From within it a set of emerald eyes found him.

“Robert! What took you so long? You were supposed to bring Lyonel here by noon. “

“Oh, spare me the tirade. The boy slept in and we spend some quality time, I can’t imagine we’ll get much of it on that damned Kings Road”, Robert grumped and wandered to the first carriage and engaged the soldiers.

By reflex Lyonel made an apologetic gesture with his arms and was awarded by an endearing smile from Cersei.

“Well love, how was your last night in the castle? My prince will have to make do with the royal carriage for a few weeks”, her smile turned motherly.

From his old memories Lyonel knew Cersei was a lioness guarding her cups and caring for her children was her main motive. From his new memories he knew she regularly looked at him in a more than parental gaze. No wonder, Lyonel thought, before she grew sick of him Cersei really loved Robert and Lyonel was nothing if not a more strapping version of young Robert.

“He’ll probably break his back if he has to sleep on anything other than swans feathers”, someone quipped behind him.

And when he turned around, he thought his eyes must play tricks on him. On a second look, he can make the distinction, but on the first one he would have sworn he saw Cersei in both directions. This was Myrcella. A seriously hot version of the princess. A little shorter than himself stood the little lioness, with the same golden locks that crowned her mother as well as her shining emerald eyes. And the trademark smirk she was known for in this timeline. His new memories told him, that she had entered a rebellious phase, turning her from the prim and proper girl he knew Myrcella for in his old life into the smirky, bratty princess she was in this universe.

“If it isn’t *princess pampered*, an honour to have you join us. If my travel bed should indeed be too hard for me, would mind me borrowing one of your dresses to cushion it a little? That is, if you can spare one of the 749 dresses you acquired this year”, he tried to rebuttal. And based on Myrcella huffing and her cheeks turning red, he’d say he succeeded.

“Stop it both of you! Take an example of your brother over there, Tommen is staying out of such bickering”, their mother calmed them down.

And indeed, behind Myrcella stood a boy slightly smaller than her. He only mumbled an affirmative and accompanied by his sister, their septa and three servants they made their way to the wagons.

“Oh, where did I go wrong. You two are always arguing and Tommen is still too shy to voice his thoughts. You should really take your brother under your wing more often. He is spending too much time with Myrcella and I don’t think that’s doing him any good.”

“Don’t worry about that mother, it’s a long journey. I’m sure we’ll have some time to work on our family dynamic”, with his double entendre going unnoticed, mother and son made their way to start their journey.