Fanfic #201 No Promises by Nugar(ASOIAF)

This fanfic is a self insert into A song of Ice and Fire following a true born son of Cersei and Robert. I really like this fic because there are a lot of original storylines and elements that make the story really interesting, I also like the mc.

Synopsis: Waking up as a prince in one of the more violent, grim fantasy worlds isn't all that bad. You've just got to seize your opportunities where you find them, kill a few people who really deserve it, and derail canon as much as possible. It's smooth sailing after that. Wait, that didn't work? Everything is still going to hell? Aww, no. That wasn't supposed to happen. SI

Rated: M

words: 40k

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12869868/1/

Here's the first chapter:

I killed for the second time when I was six years old.

It took some begging, and some creative arguing, but a few fairly enthusiastic temper tantrums and a promise to be careful eventually convinced my father, the king, Robert Baratheon, to let me keep an unstrung heavy crossbow in my room to play with along with my wooden swords and the wooden toy warhammer I used to ingratiate myself into my father's good graces.

My dear mother Cersei wasn't that enthusiastic about it, but when I told her it was so I could protect her and my unborn sibling, she softened and smiled indulgently. I was pretty diligent about making Robert proud of his son, but I always put the most effort into making sure Cersei loved me. I couldn't rely on how much she doted on her children originally, not given the head full of dark, unquestionably Baratheon hair I sported.

I had been born as the dark haired, originally stillborn first born child of Robert and Cersei, before she started having her brother's kids. I don't really remember it, but I do know that I was born pretty sickly, but got over it by the time I was a year old.

They named me Eddard, after Robert's best friend, much as Ned Stark's firstborn son was Robb. At my tender age of six, I had one living sister, Myrcella of the golden hair, who I doted on as much as possible, and another sibling on the way. There had been a blond brother, Joffrey, who survived birth but died before he could leave his crib. Tragic, really.

So I managed to get ahold of a crossbow. It was heavy as hell, but I was pretty big and strong for a six year old, since I had Robert's warrior genes and had been effectively training since before I could walk. Most crossbows were just made of wood, with only a few nails and braces here and there to make them work, but this was a nice one. Mostly wood, of course, but with metal plates and action, and the winch used to cock it used iron gears.

I had a few bolts I'd picked up here and there stashed in my room, and even a pair of strings from the armory. The problem, of course, was stringing it.

The damned thing probably had a draw weight of two hundred pounds, maybe more. I have no idea exactly how the armsmen string them, but I've got ideas and I'm actually pretty familiar with crossbows. I simply used a length of good thin rope tied to the arms of the bow, then twisted with a short, sturdy stick to slowly draw them together. Once I got that as tight as I could, I hooked the cocking winch to it and had it restrung in less than ten minutes. Then, of course, I had to unstring it again, because I didn't want it taken away from me too soon.

I practiced quickly stringing and unstringing it whenever I could, mostly at night, after everyone else was asleep. I also spent some time lugging it around my rooms, practicing aiming with it and getting used to the weight. I ended up making a sling for it that let me carry it at my side, and would allow me to fire it from the hip. I feared my own inaccuracy, but there was no real way to actually practice shooting the thing. I'd just have to get close.

Meanwhile, Cersei produced my little brother, Tommen, as expected.

I must confess, I was not expecting him to have black hair.

Tommen was the talk of King's Landing, of course. A feast was planned, various letters of congratulations arrived, and there was a steady stream of important visitors to the family apartments. I guarded the inner door to the sitting chamber, greeting them all with my big fucking unstrung crossbow.

Oh, there was laughter. Mixed in here and there was some admiration and praise, especially when I said I wasn't going to let this brother die like my last one. Cersei got positively misty-eyed at that, and Robert, when he was around, seemed pretty happy at the sentiment, too.

Of course, there were the occasional snide whispered comments about the silly boy with the unstrung crossbow, so all I could do was protest that no one would string it for me.

And when I heard that the newly minted Master of Coin was coming to pay his respects, I slipped my string and tools out of my clothes and quickly had the crossbow strung. A bolt hidden in a big vase finished my preparations, and I was ready when Petyr Baelish showed up with some guy I didn't know, escorted by Arys Oakheart, who had been waiting at the entrance to the apartments.

"Halt! Who goes there?" I challenged in the deepest voice I could manage, which wasn't very.

Ser Oakheart, who had been tolerantly putting up with my shit since this began, smiled at me, not yet recognizing the threat. "Arys Oakheart, my Prince, escorting-"

SPUNNNNG!

It was a good thing I had aimed for the chest, instead of the face as I'd actually been tempted, because the bolt went high and to the right, punching clear through Petyr Baelish right below the left clavicle. It missed the heart, but I think it hit the top of the aorta, because blood positively fountained out of him, his mouth gaping wide as he slowly sank to his knees and toppled backwards.

"Oops."

When a man kills a man, that's murder. But when a child does it, well…

That's an accident.

So yeah, I got a pretty decent spanking. Worse, they took my crossbow away from me, and it was years before they'd let me touch one under anything less than direct supervision. Still, I think Robert was a bit proud when, after I asked him how old he'd been when he killed his first man, I solemnly informed him that I had beaten him.

Don't play games with a chess master. Kick over the board and shoot him.