Cassana

Nerves begin to overcome me while I sit by my fathers' side at the joust, in the place of honour.

The kings most beloved daughter, most beloved princess. Ever the joyful image, clad in gold wearing a blissful smile and the innocent eyes of a doe.

Never faltering, not while the eyes and ears of this keep are forever watching.

Not while my grandfather watches.

Here I sit like a mare on display, ripe to be ridden by the highest bidder.
Little do they know I was sold as a child, I am not up for offer.

All my life groomed to perfection.

Groomed to obey, for duty.
Groomed for something greater than this.

Yet here I am about to be shipped off to the North, so far away I may as well be forgotten, exiled even.

And the architect of it is not my father, but Tywin. Even in a decision that is meant to bring me happiness he still wins and I am defeated.

The respect I've earned over the years, the influence. It means nothing in the North.

All my life I've dreamed of two things.

Running far from this city to somewhere I can be truly free.

And power.

But not as my father sees it, or my mother, or Joffrey. But the power to do what is right, to do what my father cannot.

To do what I could do if I was a man.

I watch as men come to blows before us, and I watch as blood is spilt for cheap thrills.
My father applauds and Joffrey laughs a little too gleefully while my mother distracts Myrcella and Tommen from the sight.

By the time Loras comes to the field my glass has been emptied at least thrice, enough to push my doubts from my mind.

Enough to quench the resistance in me, enough to make me the perfect princess.

Loras rides towards me and presents me with a Tyrell rose but his eyes do not meet mine. They look to Renly.

"For the princess on her name day."

I'm sure he can see the coldness in my eyes at the heartless gesture but either way, I smile as I take the flower. "Thank you Ser Loras."

"Yes yes now hurry up, get on with it," Father groans impatiently and while they ready themselves on the field I look over to Renly who watches me and I know this is his doing.

Usually, I would dismiss such a thing as keeping up appearances but I know this is different. The Tyrells want me, Margaery is willing to seduce me into a marriage and even Renly seeks to have me wed his lover.

While my face remains perfectly neutral bitterness fills me, one that goes unnoticed except for one.

"Cassana?" Mother asks but I merely look at her. Wearing the same mask I learned from her.

"It is lovely isn't it," I comment like a sweet little songbird. "A wonderful joust."

"Indeed it is," Tywin says from beside her. "The next event this large will be your wedding."

My mothers' jaw locks tight as she bites her tongue and I turn my attention back to the joust, yet my mind drifts to Robb Stark.

The man who will become my husband.

Is he like his father? Is he a decent man? Is he handsome? Will he care for me? Will he respect me?

These are all questions I don't have the answer to, but someone may.

"Father, please excuse me," I say and he barely notices as I walk away and weave my way through the crowd to find a certain eunuch hiding on the outskirts.

"Princess," he says bowing his head as I guide him away to somewhere more private. "If you are here to inquire about a possible husband I'm afraid there haven't been any developments since this morning, however, I know some have taken Ser Loras's rose as a sign of affection."

"Well, that is a shame because I am betrothed to Robb Stark."

Now that is news to him. It's a rare day that the Master of Whisperers is taken by surprise.

"Ah, that does make sense, doesn't it? I always did think that Jon Arryn knew more than he was letting on when he kept turning down an alliance with the Tyrells, but why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't know Robb Stark. I know Loras, I know other possible suitors. But I've heard nothing about Ned Starks son."

"Hmm, well I do have my little birds in the North," he says knowing what I'm after. "Even so I am afraid my knowledge of the boy is limited, but as he is the future warden of the North I have taken note of some things."

"Do tell."

"From what I have heard he is his fathers' son and I believe that is all you need to know to make your judgement on him."

Ned Stark, the only man my father truly respects, trusts, loves. A good man.

If my father can love Ned Stark then perhaps I might be able to feel something for his son. Or at the very least tolerate him.

"It is," I say in relief. "Thank you Lord Varys and I trust you will keep this to yourself. The queen mustn't know."

"The queen mustn't know," he agrees. "Oh, I do love those words."

And with that assurance from him, I go to return to my seat by fathers side only to be stopped by my mother.

"Why were you speaking to Varys?" she asks quietly, and I notice the paranoia she is struggling to conceal, as does Tywin.

"I was asking if the small council was considering any of the men participating in the tournament for my hand in marriage," I say and that paranoia turns to anger. "But don't worry, they don't have any plans yet."

"Yet," she repeats and I can almost feel her shaking with anger at the thought, something my grandfather can no doubt see.

"I did not know you and Lord Varys were on such terms," he questions not caring that I'm lying to my mother, but that I'm close enough with Carys to be able to approach him.

"Well, who better to know these things than the Master of Whisperers?"

Tyrion smiles to himself knowingly while my grandfather simply nods and with that I return to my fathers' side and to my drink.

~

As the sun sets the crowd becomes rowdier which I wouldn't mind if it weren't for fathers drunkenness. Loud and rowdy while I go away a little on the inside. Forget what troubles me.

Mother's long left with Myrcella and Tommen while Joffrey's drunk off of two cups of ale and staring at the bodies being dragged off the field as if they were naked girls.

It seems this joust is particularly bloody. It almost feels fitting.

"Joffrey," I say to my brother as I watch a body being dragged off the field, a blonde-haired boy, a young squire who got too close. "You must learn to joust."

He just looks confused. "Why?"

I smile to myself. "No reason."

He mutters something about women and their nonsense before he returns to cheering on the Hound while I indeed begin to consider seriously encouraging him to take up jousting, or better yet convince father to make Joffrey participate in a tournament.

The realm may yet have hope.

Before I can pitch the idea to Father while Mother isn't here I'm interrupted by Renly.

"My favourite niece," he says and I'm already suspicious. "Would you like to come for a walk?"

"Of course," I say anyways and make a note to mention jousting to father at some point before we leave for Winterfell.

"Are you drunk?" he asks as he leads me away towards the gardens.

"No," I say despite how my body sways slightly with each step as if I'm walking on water and lie. "I've only had a few glasses."

"Good because we have a matter to discuss."

"And what matter would that be?" I ask and then I see where he is leading me. "Loras."

"Don't get angry with me yet," Renly says and I have to stop him. "Cassana-"

"I know we've spoken about me marrying Loras but I can't."

"Are you seriously objecting right now? I've been trying to arrange this for years, waiting until you came of age, and he's actually agreed to it!"

"And you know what? I might have agreed to it if you could hide the fact you're fucking him!"

He pulls me roughly behind some scrubs and scolds "That doesn't matter because it's hardly like you'll be marrying for love either way."

"I know that," I mutter but before I can continue to explain he cuts me off.

"You know a marriage with him will give you the freedom to do whatever and whoever you want."

"Renly-"

"No. We've spoken about this for months and now you're backing out," he whispers between gritted teeth. "We had a plan to undermine the Lannisters and this was the beginning-"

"A plan I proposed!" I remind him harshly. "And I was fully prepared to marry Loras for the sake of our house but things have changed."

He scoffs. "What's changed?"

I grab him by the wrist and pull him further into the gardens where we are completely out of sight. He opens his mouth to protest until he sees the look on my face and shuts his mouth.

"My father informed me before the joust that I have been betrothed since the Greyjoy rebellion."

"What?" he exclaims. "To who?"

I let out a laugh of disbelief at the entire situation, still fuming that I was never told. "To Ned Starks eldest son."

His jaw drops. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately."

He shares my concerns as he whispers. "We wanted to keep you in the south where you actually have influence, not in the North."

"I want to stay in the south but it appears my father, Ned Stark and Jon Arryn arranged this years ago and didn't tell anyone because they were scared of my mother who still doesn't know."

Now that part doesn't surprise him but still, it's an inconvenience to us all.

"Then who does know?"

"Varys and Tywin."

"Tywin?" He exclaims. "How does he know?"

"It's Tywin, he's not an idiot," I mutter and feel how loose my tongue is. "I don't want to go Renly. I don't."

"Let me talk to Robert-"

I'm holding onto the sleeve of his shirt as I shake my head, my composure slipping. "He believes it will make me happy."

He lets out a heavy breath. "But you aren't happy."

"I've never been happy." I blink away tears and continue to shake my head. "I am angry. I don't care about love or happiness. All I want is the freedom and the power to make my own decisions and even that has been taken from me."

He swallows hard and asks "Do you know how sad it is you don't have any regard for your own happiness?"

"I'm a princess, no one has any regard for my happiness!" I snap then force myself to lower my voice. "Just as long as I'm obedient then all else is well in their eyes."

His eyes are actually sad. "You know that's not true."

I just scoff. "Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like I'm a poor, weak woman. I'm the daughter of the king and I will do my duty since that is all anyone cares about. He told me to forget about duty and be happy with Robb, a man I've never met, a man I never even knew I've been betrothed to until this morning. Varys says he is his fathers' son but even so, this isn't what I want. I don't want to be just a wife and a mother."

It's then the truth finally comes out, a truth I've always known. To be more than what my mother was forced to be, to be what I know I can be.

"If I was a man I'd likely already be king but no, I'm a woman. So my duty is to spread my legs for whoever the men in this family determine will benefit them. I don't want that."

"Cassana," he sighs heavily. "That is why I've tried to arrange this with Loras. So you wouldn't be subjected to that."

"Well it's too late now," I whisper as I regain my composure but I can't shake the bitterness. "Nine years too late."

He actually looks sorry for me but I'm not a fool. He is sorry his plans have gone to waste. Sorry that I am no longer the perfect pawn.

And so am I.

If I had to be a pawn I wanted to be of use, to contribute to something great.

To bring house Baratheon to true greatness. To be as great, if not greater than the Targaryens.

Instead, we will be known for the drunken king who put the realm into debt and was used as a puppet by Tywin Lannister. And when Joffrey becomes king the gods won't even be able to save us.

I had always thought if I stayed near the capitol I could gain influence among the council, to be for Joffrey what Tywin is for my father.

But no. Not anymore.

"Very well," Renly says quietly. "I best inform Loras. Lady Olenna won't be happy."

"Is she ever happy?" I mutter and he elbows me lightly in good jest.

"Come on now, don't be like that," he teases and I hold onto his arm. The uncle who's always been more like a brother to me.

"Well, I haven't spent nearly as much time there as you have."

"Shh," he hushes while trying not to laugh as we continue strolling through the gardens.

By the time we find Loras and Margaery my footing is once again solid and my composure has returned.
The moment they lay eyes on me my pleasant smile has returned and there are no signs of any drunkenness or anything else that may be wrong.

Just a pretty face with pleasant mannerisms as is expected of me. Just as is expected of Margaery.

"Why don't you girls take a walk in the garden," Renly suggests. "Loras and I need to attend to some business."

Margaery doesn't need to be told twice as she takes my arm and leads me away from them.

"How have you been enjoying the joust?" she asks. "I noticed you were the subject of much admiration."

"Well, when the daughter of a king comes of age there tend to be many young men trying their luck," I point out, barely bothering to mask the discontent in my voice.

"I can't blame them," she teases, her hands warm in contrast to the cool evening breeze.

"It's getting quite cool isn't it," I note but my thoughts aren't on her touch.

"They say winter is coming," she says and I know those are words I'll hear quite often now.

"I suppose it's fitting considering where I'm going after this."

She looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"I'm betrothed to Ned Starks son," I tell her, seeing little reason to hide it and she looks taken by surprise. "Robb Stark."

"Robb Stark," she repeats stiffly and I know this hasn't just disrupted my own plans. There's no doubt she's the one who's been whispering in Loras's ear to make him agree to a marriage. "Well I suppose it is fitting, your fathers are best friends and he'd only be a year older than you, my own age."

"Yes, well that part is a relief," I say, able to find the slightest relief that I'm not being wed to some old man. "But my mother doesn't know."

She cringes a little. "Well knowing your mother it's not a surprise it's being kept hidden, but don't worry it's safe with me."

I nod but can't ignore the heaviness on my shoulders, a bitterness.

"Are you alright?" Margaery asks and I hesitate before shaking my head.

"I'm leaving my home to go somewhere I've never been, marry someone I don't know. I had even arranged to speak to the council so I could decide on my marriage with them. Yet it seems the decision had been made a long time ago. So I suppose I could say I'm frustrated."

She gives me a sympathetic look and runs her hand down my arm to take my hand. "Who wouldn't be? But the Starks have a good reputation." She then leans in and whispers. "They say Ned's son is quite handsome, already looking like a man."

The playfulness of her voice is an escape for me, a chance to be just a young girl.

"Really?"

"And good with a sword," she laughs then wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"Margaery!" I exclaim and slap her arm playfully.

"Don't worry, I haven't heard anything about him using one in that way. He is a Stark after all, and you know what they say about the Starks."

Honourable, good men. At least I hope.

I look at her and become aware that the ears of the keep are always listening, always watching.

"Let's take this somewhere more private."

~

In my bedchamber we sit on my bed trying to block out the noise below as I explain the situation somewhat drunkenly after another few glasses of wine.

"I didn't even know I was betrothed until this morning, I don't know when the wedding will happen, or anything."

She raises an eyebrow. "Anything?"

I shake my head. "It frustrates me so much. I've never met him, and I've heard almost nothing about him. I- I always wanted to have some control over who I wed, I wanted to marry someone who I knew would listen to me, treat me as an equal. A southern man so I could be near the capitol. Honestly, I would be more than happy to go live in bloody Dorne where it's only a short ride to Storms End but no, I'm going as far North as I can possibly go."

"Well you know what they say about the Dornish," she jokes but turns more serious. "And you know there are ways to make a man listen to you, to treat you as equal. Or better yet for you to have him wrapped around your finger."

Now that intrigues me. "Do tell."

She moves closer to me and lowers her voice. "Men are relatively simple creatures, even the most brilliant of them have one weakness."

She doesn't need to elaborate further for us to have an understanding.

"And how would I go about exploiting this weakness?"

"Oh I wouldn't say exploiting," she says with a little smirk. "I'd say enjoying."

The rim of my wine glass rests against my lip as I allow myself to ponder the thought. "I thought only men gained enjoyment from such things."

She just laughs. "Not if the man knows what he's doing. More often than not they don't which is why us women need to guide them in the right direction. That goes for politics and the bedchamber."

The political side of influence I know well, the other not so much. "The bedchamber?"

She eyes me curiously as she takes a sip of her wine and under her gaze I feel exposed but not in a way that makes me uncomfortable. "Would you like me to teach you?"

My glass stills as I remember our conversation from earlier, my curiosity. While I know where this might just lead I'm too curious to refuse.

"Yes."

Her hand stretches out until her fingers are touching mine. "Some men enjoy a clever woman, more men enjoy a woman who is good at conversation, but almost all men enjoy physical touch. They crave it."

She takes my hand in her's and absentmindedly begins to play with my fingers. "And when you are able to give them what they crave they come back for more, you hold influence over them. However, the way to gain influence isn't just through being the object of their desire, but also their affection."

Her fingers brush the inside of my wrist and I take note of how her eyes are solely on me, as if she's entranced when I know damn well what she's doing.

She leans in closer with wide eyes and lowers her voice. "To gain their desire you simply need to be a woman but to gain affection is something else entirely. That takes time, which is done through words and smiles and toying with their emotions. You know how to influence men when it comes to politics, it is not much different when it comes to affection. You put yourself in their shoes, you feel their wants, their needs, their deepest darkest fantasies and you become everything they've ever desired."

Getting inside of someone's head is something I know to do. Like Margaery, I know how to work people. To manipulate and use. To gain their affection and respect. To use it to my advantage.

But there is still one thing.

"And when I have him wrapped around my finger emotionally, how would I go about having him physically?"

Her fingers brush my cheek while she gives me a mischievous little smile. "It's all in the eyes, that's where you have them. Then you draw them in." Her thumb drags over my bottom lip, sending shivers down my spine. She leans in even closer until her face is right in front of mine. "May I touch you, princess?"

Curious to see where she's going with this I nod.

She runs her knuckle down the inside of my arm, exploring the surface and watching my reactions carefully. "Now you must remember that it's very unlikely he knows what he's doing either, it is the North after all." Her tone is playful enough to put me at ease. "But that gives you the chance to teach him how to do it right."

"The right way?" I ask and she laughs.

"Oh princess, there certainly is. Many men have no idea how to please a lover, which is why it's important for you to know what pleases you so you can teach him."

Her lips brush against mine and she whispers. "Then you take control."

Every part of me that's been groomed to be the dutiful daughter and princess screams at me to pull away, but the part that's always resisted and defied is far louder.

And so for the first time, I let my defiance rule me.

All my life I've never been in control, and what little control I've fought for torn away.

And so I take control.

But not by giving in. Not by allowing her to think she has the upper hand.

But by doing what I've never truly done before.

Saying no.

"That will be all Lady Margaery."

She looks stunned as I refuse her.

"Pardon your grace?"

"That will be all," I repeat and she's utterly confused as she pulls back. It's clear she's never had her advances rejected before

"I- I hope I haven't caused offence," she says quickly and for a split second I've thrown her completely off guard. For a split second her mask is gone and I can see her clearly.

"There is none," I assure her despite definitely harbouring some. All the manipulation over the years I've accepted, but I'm tired of it.

Tired of being obedient, of doing what others wish me to do. Playing along with their games at the expense of my own self.

If I want to have any freedom, any control in the North, it will not be by playing along and being a sweet little obedient thing that will keep her mouth shut aside from sweet pillow talk if he is decent enough to listen at all.

It will be through being stubborn, inconvenient. Through using my voice whether it causes offence or not. Through gaining genuine respect, not just admiration or desire. Something Margaery has yet to do.

I am the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, a Baratheon. I will not bend to the will of any man or woman.

Not when my blood is that which forged the walls of Storms End, which has stood the test of time despite the gods raging storms that have threatened to break down its walls.

They will soon learn as such.

~

Robb

There is a southern wind blowing the nearby trees with such strength we all stop to look. Theon, Jon and I.

"Looks like there's a storm coming," Jon states while Theon immediately goes back to being disinterested.

"Nothing like those on the Iron Islands that's for sure. Battered with the worst storms in the Seven Kingdoms and still, we do not sow."

"The worst are at Storms End," I correct Theon who scoffs.

"Well, the name fits," Jon agrees with me but before Theon can argue Ser Rodrik interrupts us all.

"Come on, these swords aren't going to swing themselves."

While they get back to training my eyes catch my father standing nearby, watching.

"Robb," he calls and I find my way over to him.

"Father."

"You've grown into your armour," he says looking me over. "You're becoming a real man."

Those words catch my attention and I find myself glancing over to Jon and Theon wondering why I was the only one who was called over.

"I need to talk to you," he says quietly and I can't tell if he has good or bad news. Likely the latter.

"What is it?"

"I've received a raven from the king." He holds up the letter as he tells me. "He's riding north."

"And?" I ask knowing that the king wouldn't be riding all this way to visit an old friend.

"Jon Arryn died weeks ago and no one else has filled his role on the council. I suspect he's going to ask me to be the Hand of the King."

It takes me a moment to realise what that would mean. "But you would have to go south to Kings Landing and-"

"You would be acting Lord of Winterfell," he finishes and the reality of it hits me. I thought I'd have years until I'd have to fill fathers role. Not weeks. "I don't want to leave but if the king asks then it is my duty. You're a man now Robb, I've prepared you for this."

I know he loves the king but his family is here. Rickon is only six, and the others are still so young. His duty is to his family, but I also know it is to the king, and I can't ask him to forfeit his duty. He is a Stark and we are true to our words and our oaths. Even so, perhaps Mother could still talk him out of it.

"It's- it's the last thing I expected to hear," is all I can really say but the look on his face startles me even more. "Father?"

"There's more," he says and looks to the Godswood. "A little while ago your mother starting speaking of finding you a wife, but the truth is that you are already betrothed."

I have to clear my throat but that still doesn't stop me from choking on the words. "What now?"

I wait for him to tell me it's a joke but he doesn't, he only watches the disbelief that crosses my face.

"You've been betrothed for nine years," he continues and I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Since the Greyjoy rebellion."

"To who?" I exclaim incredulously. "And why haven't you ever said anything, I can't believe-"

"Robb," he says apologetically. "I didn't tell you or anyone because the king ordered it. For nine years the only people who knew were myself, the king and Jon Arryn."

"What?" I breathe at a loss for what's going on and he guides me over to the Godswood while I try to make sense of this.

"When Robert and I were younger we would laugh about the idea of our children marrying, however during the Greyjoy Rebellion we discussed it seriously. Our houses were meant to be joined many years ago but that never happened. Robert told me that if there was one thing he could do right it would be to join our houses, that I have a son and he has a daughter."

"Join our houses?" I exclaim suddenly feeling a different type of disbelief.

"You're to marry Princess Cassana."

I'm lost for words completely and he gives me an amused smile "Yes you heard me right."

"I'll be marrying the princess?"

"Her sixteenth name day has just passed so I suspect she'll be leaving any day now if she hasn't already."

I laugh to myself in disbelief. I knew that the princess wasn't betrothed, I've certainly heard Theon mention it, but I never imagined it would be to me. I've never thought much about marriage let alone consider that it could be her I'd marry.

"I'm marrying the princess," I grin in dumbfounded excitement and father can't help but laugh.

I can't wait to see the look on Jon and Theon's faces when I tell them.

I'm marrying the princess.

A million questions come to mind and I'm stumbling over my words until I can finally ask. "What is she like?"

That's when the fear begins to set in, what if she's like her brother? Or her mother?

"I don't know much but I can guess," Father begins as we take a seat by the weirwood tree. "I met her once when she was a child, would have been about seven. She had that black Baratheon hair and blue eyes, very much took after her father but they say as she gets older she looks more like her mother. She was a lovely girl, everything a princess should be, adored her father and from what I remember she was a clever little thing. They say she is very beautiful as a woman, sixteen now."

So she's only a year younger than I am, a beautiful black haired Baratheon princess. It sounds too good to be true. I can't say I've ever sat and daydreamed about getting married but a princess is the last type of wife I would ever imagine for myself.

"Do you know anything else?" I ask, already knowing I'll have to go and ask Sansa what she knows as well.

"From what I saw of her she seemed sweet and clever but I do remember some stories Robert told me about her when she was fighting with her brother, 'ours is the fury alright' I remember him laughing. I know that out of all his children he loves her the most. Since then I've heard she is very well-read and intelligent, dutiful. Most surprising of all is that she is apparently Lord Tywins favourite. As a princess she would have been raised to be a proper southern lady but she is also Roberts daughter," he says fondly but there is also a bit of apprehension there. "If she is anything like Robert then she'll certainly be passionate, strong-willed, spirited, more than likely stubborn with that Baratheon temper but she'll have a good heart. Any daughter of Roberts with that Baratheon blood won't be dull I promise, but if she's like her mother-"

He abruptly trails off and I become concerned.

"If she's like her mother?" I ask but he waves my concern off.

"Robb I'm sure that she will be lovely, that she will be a good wife," he promises me "You'll be meeting her soon."

I have a million more questions but I swallow them. Part of me is filled with concern, what if I don't like the woman that I have to spend the rest of my life with? But what if I do? What if she doesn't like me?

Oh, gods what if she doesn't like me?

"Do you think that we'll get along?" I anxiously ask father who just laughs to himself.

"I remember thinking the same thing about your mother when I was told I'd be marrying her, but don't worry. Robert and I have been friends since we were children, you're my son and if she's her fathers' daughter then I have no doubt you two will get along just fine. Now go back to your training and try not to worry too much."

I look back at Jon and Theon but it's the southern winds that catch my attention, and now I know what's coming with them.