Years Later and Settling In

Opening my eyes to look to the maid entering my room, I sat up.

It was another oh so wonderful morning in Westeros.

Flipping the bed sheet off of me and getting off my bed, I gave the maid a look before walking passed her. Seeing me look, the maid just bowed her head as I walked passed.

...God that gets fucking tedious after a while.

Continuing passed her, I continued onward to the bath house exclusively for my family. I hated how this place stank at times, so I did everything I could to make sure I wasn't a part of that stench. I cleaned myself regularly, is what I mean.

Carrying on through the halls, dressed in my basic pajamas, I found myself smiling when I found my little brother, Tommen playing with a kitten. It was a small little ginger thing that was no bigger than someone's hand. It looked pretty cute.

"Tommen," I called, the little chubby blond toddler turning his emerald green eyes to me.

"Brother!" he got out, his speech still being a bit lisp-y. He held out his hand, the small ginger kitten held in it, "Look, look! Mother finally got me a kitten!" he said, his face filled with a joy that was hard to describe. He looked so innocent right now. So naive and full of wonder and joy. How this world would have torn you apart, Tommen...No matter. I'm here now, so you won't have to deal with it all.

Ruffling his golden blond hair, I chuckled, "And what is it's name? You must name it something mighty and fit for the pet of a Baratheon," I mused with a smile that only inched wider as Tommen's expression turned into a thoughtful one.

"Ser Pounce! That's his name!" he yelled while trying to look mighty. I just laughed and him seeing me laugh, whined at me with an indignant expression, "Markus, stop laughing! It's a good name!" he said with a voice that sounded like he was about to cry.

Rolling my eyes, I gave the kitten a few strokes with my finger, "Yeah, yeah, Ser Pounce is a mighty name," I said, internally wondering if this world followed the books or the TV series. But with Tommen getting Ser Pounce this early on, I'd say we're in for the TV series plot because in the books Ser Pounce is given to Tommen by Margaery.

At the same time, most of the people I've met in this world, they didn't look like their actors. Well, they looked a LITTLE bit like their actors. But it was like they were put through a filter because most of the women of nobility I've seen are beautiful and most of the men are good-looking.

None of them are perfect, sure, but they're better than what should have been possible for a world that's pretty much in the middle ages.

Saying goodbye to my youngest brother, I carried on to the bath house.

As I walked, I began to think about my time in this place. As the Eldest Prince, no less.

Markus Baratheon. Born 283 AC on the first year of Robert Baratheon's reign and his Marriage to Cersei Lannister*. Born with the black hair of his father and the emerald eyes of his mother, the boy was healthy and looked to be as strong as a Lion's cub or a Stag's fawn.

(*A/N - This is a year before Cersei and Robert married in canon but I want the MC to be as old as possible before canon starts without completely changing established canon.)

That was me, or rather that's how my mother, Cersei, describes me.

My plan had worked. I'd manipulated where I would be born by picking the correct perks. Robert's large and powerful build, along with his strong talent for the use of hammers in combat.

It was my luck that I hadn't been stillborn like Cersei's first child in the show. It was also good to know that I wasn't a product of incest and that I was actually my father's son. Though this would no doubt pit me against my younger half-sibling Joffrey.

...Won't be too hard. He's a spiteful little shit but a little shit nonetheless.

Life as a Prince...was a bit annoying at times. I had so many lessons for etiquette and dancing, maths and basic language classes, that I was slowly going insane. Basic maths was easy enough and so was basic language classes because it was practically the same as English, just with slightly different grammar rules that didn't even need to be followed in the first place.

But dancing...my god, I hate it. I hate it so thoroughly.

Not only am I terrible at it, I just can't seem to remember the steps. And even when I do remember, I can't do it because I have two left feet when it comes to dancing.

Sighing, I opened the door to my right and walked into the bath house. It was practically a pool but filled with piping hot, clean water. Stripping of my pajamas, I threw them to the side and got into the water.

Sitting on the steps, because sitting on the floor would mean submerging my head in the water, I began to relax as the first few minutes of the days began to tick by.

I was 10-year-old, right now. Joffrey was 7-years-old, Myrcella was 6-years-old and Tommen was 4-years-old, only a few months off of being 5-years-old.

I can't remember clearly when the plot will start but the year right now is 293 AC. I'm pretty sure the start of canon is around 297 or 298 AC which gives me between four and five years to prepare myself. So, I'll be 14 or 15 when the plot starts.

As I was thinking this, I heard the door open and I cracked an eye open before looking over my shoulder. Seeing who it was, I smiled before closing my eye again and relaxing in the pool.

"Nephew, you truly get bigger by the day," a cheerful and intelligent voice spoke as I heard my Uncle, Tyrion, speak to me, "You're already taller than me, which is quite the achievement if I do say so myself," he laughed, jabbing at himself in such a casual way, I felt a pang of worry for him. I wasn't heartless and unable to feel sympathy, after all.

I had spent 10 years with these people, after all. That's how half of my life span in my past life.

For all intents and purposes, these people are my family. They're not just characters but living, breathing people. They deserve to be treated as such. Which is why I did, and why I think of them as family.

"Do no demean yourself like that, Uncle," I laughed, keeping the atmosphere merry, "As you say, for what you lack in size, you more than make up for in mental acuity," I repeated a line back to him, one he'd said to me when I was much younger. Probably about 4 or 5-years-old and he was explaining his 'deformity' as mother usually called it.

Tyrion, hearing what I said, chuckled but from the tremor to his voice, he seem genuinely touched by what I said, "That's right, nephew!" he continued in a confident tone, his voice getting closer until I felt the water being disturbed, meaning he had entered the pool.

"Uncle," I opened my eyes and looked at him through the steam, "Did you get those books I asked for?" I curiously asked and Tyrion held his head up, looking somewhat genuinely proud.

"I happen to have gotten them today, Markus. I can have them sent to your room after breakfast if you want?" he asked and I just gave a happy nod before I went back to relaxing.

A few minutes of silence later, I began scrubbing at my body, making sure to get any piece of filth from my body before finally, I was done. Putting a hand on the side of the pool-like bath, I easily pulled myself up and out of the water. Both the perks [Powerful Build] and [Auroch-Blooded] giving me strength that was much more than someone my age or size should be capable of producing.

Tyrion barely budged an eyebrow at it, however. My strength was well-known throughout the Red Keep, especially after some rabid hounds got loose and I easily killed the two of them by breaking their necks.

It was just a shame that mother had the rest of the hounds put down after that.

Shaking my head from dwelling on such thoughts, I walked over to the side of the room that had a stone table connected to the wall with a very misty mirror built into the wall above it.

I didn't bother looking or cleaning the mirror because it was made for adults and I could barely see my eyes even if the mirror wasn't misty as hell. I was tall for my age but I was still a child who hadn't even began puberty yet. I was about 149cm tall. So about 11cm above average for a 10-year-old. But still, a child nonetheless.

Ignoring those thoughts, like many I had, I grabbed some bottles and opened them. Oils and whatnot, meant to make the body smell nice. I applied them in the right amounts, rubbing the oil into my skin and then wiping away the excess with a towel that was nearby.

Once done, I put on my pants before exiting the bath house after waving farewell to Tyrion.

Like clockwork, there was a made standing outside the room with clothes in hand. Taking them, I walked to an empty room and changed into the clothes I'd be wearing for the day.

And just like any other day, I didn't wear anything fancy. Just a fine tunic and pants. They were comfortable and that's all I cared about. I didn't exactly want to wear expensive clothes either. They'd just get ruined by the sweat and movements I make when I exercise and practice.

Anyway, once I was dressed, I finally made my way to have breakfast.

Mentally preparing myself before this was also why I had a bath every morning. It was the only reason I could get out of breakfast for an extra few minutes. Why would I do that? Because Joffrey's a cunt and my mother is very annoying to deal with on such little sleep. She dotes far too much on me and treats me like I'm a helpless child.

Which, in her eyes, I guess I am. But the truth is that I know how to look after myself and I don't need my mother to babysit everything I do.

Though I will say her boundless (and platonic) affection is nice and comforting. It allows me a sense of mind that eases me. No matter what I do, she would still love me. It is a very refreshing thing to know. Especially in such a world as this.

Finally, I arrived at the dining hall, and I saw my family there. All my family.

My mother, my uncle Jaime, Tommen, Myrcella and surprisingly enough, my father, King Robert Baratheon.

Well, isn't this going to be a wonderful breakfast?