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They were quiet kids when she was around, always playing with their wooden knights and their little wooden boats. They were her kids them, they just looked like me. When she made me spend time with them, they were wild little things, I could even enjoy myself, watching them run and roll around on the dirty. I only complained now as a habit, but having them asking me to play with them, made me feel young again.
Time passes for everybody, it did for me too. I was a good knight, a good warrior, war was the best I could do. But when I looked to myself, all I saw was a fat king on a throne that didn't brought back my love. I married the fairest lady in the whole Seven Kingdoms, and yet, she was not my Lyanna. I wedded my sister, the same sister I swore to my father that I would protect, the sister that Jon wanted to marry away to some pompous man from High Garden. Sandra couldn't fill that void in me, either.
The one that was chosen to give me princes was Cersei, by that old lion of Lannister, Tywin. I didn't care, I fucked Sandra all the same, and she popped me more heirs than Cersei, too. She was no queen, but it was her that commanded me to give attention to our children, while Cersei wanted me to keep my filth away from hers, like I even cared.
But those boys were good. When they looked at me, they didn't see a fat father that shamed them with whores, as a man who didn't even fit his armor anymore. To them as was the same man that killed that Targaryen bastard and won over a throne, to them I was still a hero of the songs. I still liked to eat, drink and fuck as I saw please, but now I also like to at least make the whores stay away when they were to spend the day with me.
Sandra came through the doors of my chambers, Barristan followed her soon after, with our sons perched in his cape, talking non stop about warriors that were long dead. In her arms, was our first girl, Shireen, still small, with a toothless smile and a mouthful of droll only to me.
'They wanted to show you, their new battle plan' said the mouth of little smiles of my wife, but there was warmth in her eyes as she looked at me. Our eyes were practically the bloody same, and she could even hate me as a husband, but she still loved me as a brother.
The boys spread open a big map on the floor, and she was almost gone already, with the old knight still following her. With a last look from her and a wave from our little poppet, I'm left alone with my own Baratheon army.
'How are we going to kill those bastards today, boys?'