Disclaimer: Don't think this idea had been written before. Well… I don't own ASOIAF or HP.

Despite English being my first language, I must say my linguistic skills are not on par to what it supposes to be. Therefore the fluidity of my work may be questionable and there will be shitty grammar mistakes. Any cool inputs you can share is welcomed.

They have been waiting for the last of the seven. They knew, knew that he would come. Their prayers were finally answered as a jolt of mysterious power struck into their gut. Anticipation built up within, they couldn't wait to find him again.

Thunder thudded heavily, leaving the screams of a mother birthing a child as nothing but the background .Cersei felt her insides tearing. None of her three birthing was as painful as this.

'Demon child' she thought, while she bit the cloth on her mouth as hard as she could. Her nails raked the woods of her four posters deeply as pulling the sheets had not been enough. Her harbored breath grew deeper and deeper with each push. She had been pushing it when the storm brewed, a no good omen. Many months of drinking moon tea she secretly brewed herself since she lay with the fat pig .She wasn't able to kill it, she knew and dreaded that it wasn't hers.

Lightning flashed again but this time went as soon as it came.

The sounds of spanking could be heard but there were no cries at all. The temporary silent background amplified it. She knew what this could possibly be.

"My queen, the child is stillborn," her sweating handmaiden whispered in a washed out tone.

The stinging sensation went on painfully even after it exited her womb. There, it, laid in stillness on the midwife's arms. Cersei felt a pang of sorrow and a tang of smugness when she saw the unmoving infant. Months she endured gut wrenching nausea and its painful kicks, actions so full of life, yet it came out unmoving.

'How contradicting,' she thought bitterly.

She picked it up gingerly, it was a delicate thing. Pink from birth, curled up in stillness, smaller than any of her three children when she birthed them. The duration it stayed in her womb shorter than any of them too. She traced the face of the bloodied newborn. It was a boy, tuff of dark hair resting atop of its small head. Her famed Lannister green eyes softened when she saw many parts of her and Jaime in his features. Their cheekbones, ears and nose were all theirs. The familiarity triggered something within her. She then let out a tragic wail of loss, tears streaming down her cheeks. The blood from its birth dirtied her hands, despite the little voice in her head denying that it was her child. It is not Jaime's.

'I can't , can't love him. It's Robert's' She proceeded to chant to herself that she couldn't love the boy like a mantra. She did not so when her belly swelled with it why should she now? Her mantra did not make any of her pain lessen physically or emotionally even she did fervently so.

'It, no he,' she rectified; her maternal side had taken over once she picked him up. Promises to herself became broken in moments. She cradled him into her arms protectively. Never will she know the demon that was so eager to come out from her womb. She felt her arms wobble; hastily she put him on her midwife arm. Soon her vision got shaky; she also felt energy seeping out her body. She slumped onto her bloodied ivory sheets then she felt like she was falling and falling. Tiredly and uncontrollably she succumbed to a sleep. The last thing she saw was her child being set into sheets of cloth only to be whisked away by The Silent Sisters.

Her little Hadrian was never more.