Author's Note: All of these reviews give me life. I mean it. I live through these reviews, but you guys are too smart. Can I surprise you guys at least once? Lol.

magicdownunder: Not too much, hopefully! I can't imagine her having starry eyes for too much longer.

Evaline101: The faceclaims I use for Steffon and Cassandra are Emil Andersson and Anna Speckhart.

HopelessRomantic44: I hope you enjoy this one as well! Steffon is getting so many fans.

Soccer-Bitch: Thank you!

Guest: I just finished writing the chapter when I read your review, and I'm just like "Am I that obvious?" Lol. Those are some good ideas and I hope you're patient enough to see Cassandra come around. Sometimes she wants to but gets a little frightened, she'll find her way though.

Thank you so much! I'm trying to steer her down paths I normally don't read as best I can to give everyone something new. She'll definitely be growing! I have plans for her. Don't worry, I won't! I have too much fun writing this.


ROBB

"I'm starting to think my wife would rather be married to Rickon than to me." Even though it was said out of jest, Robb had half a mind to believe it. Rickon spent more time with Cassandra than he did and she actively sought his company. And here he was, tray in hand, giving her the soup that the Maester suggested she stay on until her coughing was cured. It was a job for servants and yet he was using this miniscule task at an excuse for conversation. Robb nearly bent over backwards to please her, to give them amity, and she had turned away from him as if all his efforts were for naught. Even after comforting her after the fire, the distance hadn't lessened by the slightest margin.

What did he have to do? What did words did he have to say? Did he offend her? Did he do something wrong? What was it about him that made her want to avoid him at any moment possible?

"Why are you trying so hard?" Theon dared to ask, brow quirked and his arms crossed as they walked slow enough to get where they were going and to properly talk privately. "If she isn't willing then you best start looking elsewhere to have your needs met."

It didn't seem bizarre for his best friend to suggest he spend his time with a whore. It wasn't what he meant, what Robb had meant; he hadn't been worried about those needs. Not entirely, however. He enjoyed their coupling, hoped to do it again, but that wasn't the priority. He wanted to properly know her, he didn't even know what she liked other than those candied almonds. Rickon probably knew her favorite color already, and that was the sad thing. "Is that really all you think about, Theon? I could actually want to know more about her, if you don't mind."

In some ways, he did find himself offended that Theon suggested such a thing. Robb prided in himself in honor and knowing very well what Jon endured as well as his mother's anger over the child made outside her marriage, he couldn't risk repeating his father's mistake. Robb worshipped his father and yet he knew that following his footsteps exactly wasn't something he should want or be capable of. "She likely doesn't really want to get to know you, so be done with it. She probably thinks she's better than us… Her handmaiden certainly thinks herself more highly than to the likes of me."

Unsure of what he was going on about, Robb quirked an eyebrow. "You mean Josselyn?" What would give Theon that impression of her? Robb knew her to be friendly and very polite. What Theon had against her didn't really make sense to him, but he was sure he was going to be given an explanation.

"She's the one the prince was fucking around the castle and now she thinks she's too good for me." He should've suspected that. Perhaps Josselyn had enough sense to know Theon wouldn't marry her and would just use her. If he did like her enough, she'd probably be a salt-wife at best since his friend believed in the traditions of old; marry the iron, mistress the other. The girl wasn't so foolish. Robb actually found himself commending her over the fact that she possibly knew better than to get herself involved with him. Theon may have been his best friend, but their ways of thinking didn't align all the time.

"Perhaps the next man she'll lay with would be the one she marries." The acting Lord of Winterfell decided to explain in her defense. "Considering her chances of marriage are quite… thinned." If kept quiet, she could possibly pass for a virgin. Most women lost their maidenheads to a number of things; horseback riding and so on, but if someone knew of her and the prince's former relationship then she be named the prince's whore and be considered ruined all her life. He couldn't blame the girl for not taking risks on her slim chances now.

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, the ward shook his head. "Marriage this, marriage that." He said disdainfully, "Why would anyone want to marry anyone when they don't even have to?" Considering Theon himself had his own problems in that, being a hostage ward and still practically a heir, Robb could see why he was put off by it. "You can all have it. I don't want it." Robb couldn't even begin to say that Theon might change his mind one day. Even if he did, there might be two suns in the sky.

Finally reaching the bedchamber he now shared, Robb could hear talking from the other side of the door. "Sounds like Rickon." smirking, Theon tilted his head in amusement. "Maybe you aren't so wrong as I thought."

"Shut up, will you?" Squinting his eyes at him, he knocked twice to alert them of his presence before opening the door. Cassandra was sitting upright, hands clasped and her eyes crinkling, possibly finished laughing at whatever his little brother rambled on about. Rickon was sitting at the edge of the bed, grinning, before looking at him from over his shoulder. "I hope I'm not interrupting." Robb hoped he was. He hoped his little brother would be leaving…Wasn't his lessons around this time?

Her eyes briefly looked at him before turning her attention back towards the youngest Stark. "Perhaps another time, Rickon? I'd like to hear an end to this story."

"C'mon, Rickon." Theon called to him, "You ought to be with Maester Luwin anyway. Skippin' out on lessons isn't good for a little lord." Grimacing upon remembering the time, Rickon gave her a hurried nod before running towards the door.

Robb looked relieved, now alone with his wife. "The Maester made me bring you some soup to cure your cough."

Her face scrunched upon the mere mention of the soup, she even stuck out her tongue in disgust before turning her head away. "I don't want it." The former princess told him without a second to waste. "Give me bacon and fish, like any normal person eats in the morn."

'What a bull-headed girl.' He affectionately thought, not giving into her request and placing the tray before her. "I can't do that." Robb urged, "The Maester says soup." Rolling her eyes, Cassandra huffed in her slight tantrum before her eyes slowly looked down to gaze at the steaming dish. He half expected for her to push it away, to not let go of her resolve and continue to be as stubbornly childish as she was acting. If Rickon told her to drink it, she probably would. He could imagine his little brother giving her the simplest of words and his eyes big, willing her to listen, to smile even. She would've done it without argument, but now it was left to him since it was just the two of them now.

After a minutes time and another reluctant sigh, she caved. Her hands wrapped themselves around the bowl, picking it up, and slowly drawing it to her lips. With another stare off, she practically chugged it down; drinking it in such a hurry, just to simply be done with it. Taking a seat where Rickon once was, he watched her finish the last bit with a frown and a wrinkle of her nose. "I hate carrots." She said, her disgust etched on her entire face with her lips shining, making him want to laugh from the sight alone. "Even with the sweet flavoring they still make themselves known; rude is what they are.

"This is the first time I ever heard someone call carrots rude." Robb joked, making her smile if only for just a few seconds before her eyes looked disdainfully back at the vegetables. "Maester Luwin says they do something for the body, I don't really remember what exactly."

"Sight." Cassandra answered him, quickly at that. "A healer once told me they're good for sight…" Seeing how enthusiastic she seemed about saying it, his wife tried to quickly retract it and act as if she hadn't cared. "Or something like that…" She shrugged, keeping her eyes focused on the empty bowl. Unsure of whether it was the interest on his face that made her continue or because she actually wanted to talk about it, she continued. "Beyond the Narrow sea, they have food medicine. Certain foods help in certain ways and that's why the people live so long over there."

"What business does a princess have knowing of food medicine?" Raising a brow, he watched her face contort into one of irritation, eyeing him and then softening just to see her was only poking fun. Her face always gave away how she felt, she didn't know how to mask herself. It was refreshing, her outward honesty, that is. He was sure that there were plenty of times she wished she wasn't so well-read, especially towards him. The princess wasn't all that warmed to him yet, and he supposed he would have to be patient.

His wife tapped her lanky fingers against the sides of the wooden bowl, still stuck in in her thoughts. For a second too long, she decidedly gave him her full attention. With a quirk of her lips, he was enlightened with a story. "Steffon was sick once when we were younger. Little brats our Uncle Jaime would say since we use to like to give him trouble. Steffon was so tough, so brave even while sick. He was sweating and shaking all the time, but he told me we'd still play together and play pirates with Joffrey."

For some reason, Robb thought that Joffrey was fitted for a pirate; ruthless, greedy, and believing everything they wished to claim was rightfully theirs. "Joffrey liked being the captain and having me as his first mate. I had to be a boy though, never a girl first mate. Joffrey said it didn't fit." She snorted, rolling her eyes at the memory. "Steffon was always the bad pirate, a rival of the sorts, that Joffrey liked to beat. Joffrey kept crying and crying when Steffon couldn't play and sometimes Steffon would lie to us by saying he was better just to play with us."

"Then one day, while we were playing in the middle of our war in the seas, he fainted and wouldn't wake up. Our mother and father tried to get any healer across Westeros to save him. Many came forward and none of them were able to wake him, we were almost afraid Steffon was lost to us for a while. By luck or by blessing as I once believed, a traveling healer across the Narrow sea arrived in King's Landing and decided to treat him. His treatment? He gave him foods. He said in order to coax a child to take medicine and let it work, you have to hide it within things he likes. So he fed Steffon all his favorites that mother named with medicine in them."

It sounded unheard of, at least to Robb it did. Nobody in the North had done that, he didn't imagine Maester Luwin would suggest such a treatment. Though he supposed perhaps he was wrong seeing as the Maester knew soup was a better diet for Cassandra's current condition. "Steffon woke up and still kept taking the medicine. The healer claimed that Steffon was getting better with the food he ate and because he was happier, his body was allowing the medicine to work. By a week's time, he was completely cured. My mother and father never been so happy and I never saw Joffrey smile so happily like that before."

"I take it you and Joffrey aren't exactly close as you once were." Whether he was overstepping his boundaries, he wasn't sure. The look on her face had lost its lightheartedness entirely and took on a rather sad note. Her smile lacked the luster it just had and her eyes closed halfway whilst staring absently at the empty bowl again.

"No, I'm afraid not. I could've done something to change that, really." Handing him the empty bowl, she laced her fingers together and rested them on her lap. "I wasn't there for Joffrey when he needed someone, but I wasn't the someone he needed… He needed Steffon. I am the luckier out of three less lucky than Tommen and Myrcella, but the luckiest of the eldest children. My father isn't hard on me or holds many responsibilities over my head as he does them. Our father is harsh on them both and expects a great deal from them. Steffon knows that better than anyone else and yet he did not see Joffrey's suffering. So Joffrey endured it alone when Steffon had me. Since we're twins we relied on each other, but Joffrey needed his older brother than he did his older sister."

Even though Robb and Joffrey had their differences, he felt sorry for him, just a bit upon hearing it through this perspective. While he had expectations of being Lord of Winterfell, their father wasn't exactly harsh as he imagined a king would be their prince sons. The expectations had to be on a higher tier than his own, and while Joffrey was only second in line, it still mattered. It still was a big responsibility.

"I don't think Steffon really knows just how much Joffrey looked up to him… He probably still does. Steffon is always so busy that he isn't aware of anything."

Lowering his head, he fiddled with this his gloves as he thought more about it. It made him forget how impressionable it was to be an older sibling, and it made him feel guilty for not being more focused on Bran. If only he hadn't encouraged his climbing or was much more strict than none of what happened would've occurred. Though he supposed it didn't matter since Bran's fall was starting to look less and less like an accident after the assassination attempt that nearly killed his brother, mother, and his wife.

"How are you feeling?" Seeing as this conversation wasn't exactly good for her mind, he decided to change the topic by shifting to herself and not the family she missed. Not only was he reminding her of a different time, he was allowing his ownself to feel guilty about something he couldn't change.

"Fine, I suppose." It sounded like a lie from how she said it. She turned her head, eyes staring out at the windows into the morning of the North. "I want to get out of here." Out of Winterfell or out of this room? He was unsure.

"And what is out of here, Princess?" Robb asked, making Cassandra slowly turn her head to give him back her attention. "We can go for a walk, if you want to."

"I would… like that." Hesitant as she was, she agreed to it. It would be the first time in days she decided to be alone with him. His face eased into a smile, hoping that this would the first step into forming a proper relationship.

lll

Since he did not prepare for her to actually say yes, Robb didn't have anything in mind to speak about. After giving her a piece of her home and family life, sad it might've been, he tried to think of things that would lighten the mood and keep her mind far away from those things. When he needed a distraction, he would come to the Godswood and pray, and seeing as she did not share his gods, he didn't think she would enjoy that all too much. And yet when his feet led them there, his wife didn't seem displeased. In fact, she smiled upon laying her eyes on the heart tree.

To think it wasn't that long ago that they had married in front of the Old Gods. This very place they swore themselves to one another and were still unsure of what the future might bring; bliss or chaos. Even now, the both of them were still unsure, but Robb liked to think the former was what would be given to them. In most aspects, Robb liked his wife. Even if he didn't know much about her, she wasn't rude or cruel.

How exactly did she feel about him was a mystery within itself. Her constant pushing and random pulling had him feeling like he was never truly bound to find out. After all her pushing, she was pulling again, and who was to say the next time she pushed, she would want him to stay there. "I find it oddly… beautiful." She said to him, her eyes staring at the face of the weirwood. "I used to be scared of them when I was younger when the Septa brought me to the Godswood in King's Landing to teach me about the old gods. She didn't speak highly of them, you should know why, I presume."

"You were scared?" It wasn't surprising, he too felt uncomfortable staring at such a thing when he first laid eyes on them. However, it drew him in, strangely. The old odsg seemed to call him, speaking to him in their hushed whispers. He couldn't find himself giving his faith to the Seven after the first time he heard their advice in the winds.. "I suppose she wouldn't since she is devout to the Seven."

"Isn't that normal of a child? Never seeing a face on a tree before and then seeing a tree with a face and bleeding eyes?" Smiling, he told himself not to laugh just in case it would offend her. "I was most definitely afraid…" Slowly tilting her head back, her eyes roamed away from the face and towards the bright leaves.

He found himself unable to tear his eyes away, the setting was all too bewitching. The Stark look was always fair skin and dark hair, which his wife seemed to possess. He had the look of Tully, but his wife looked like she truly belonged in the North. Under these leaves of blood-red, she looked as if she truly belonged here, more than he ever did. She could give their children the look of his father and forefathers. For some reason, Robb couldn't help but feel all too eager about that.

"Have you ever… wavered in your faith?" It was such an odd question, odd enough to make him stop gawking at her before she noticed. Cassandra wanted to know the most random things about him, but religion was probably important, he assumed.

"Sometimes." Robb admitted, shifting his focus to the leaves that hung on the branches stretched out above them. "I wavered when learning of Bran's fall and what became of him."

From the corner of his peripherals, he saw her nod. "I've questioned the Seven too about a lot of things. Never strong enough to give them up, but enough they might think I'm not so devout."

"How could you not be when you nearly prayed all through the night?" If anyone was so religious, Robb knew it to be her. He never heard of an all-night prayer and yet she came here and promised to do just that for his little brother she barely knew. She believed so strongly in the Seven then, he would've never thought she turned the slightest bit of her back to them.

Her arm, still wrapped around his, had loosened its hold. "And yet the Mother did not help your brother, now did she? He still lays sleep and broken. She did nothing to protect him or bring him back." Letting her arm slip away from him and fall to her side, she took a step towards the moss-covered bench and took a seat. He hadn't guessed she was still so torn about Bran's condition, considering she had not come to visit him since these recent events. He didn't fault for her for it. It was difficult for everyone to stay in the sickroom just to watch him just sleep.

"As much as I hate to say it," Taking a seat beside her, he let out a sigh as he stared at the pool before them, "we must be patient. All good things come in time as my parents like to say."

With an inelegant snort, Cassandra turned her head to laugh. "My mother and father could never abide by that. They're both so impatient."

"And neither could you." Robb stated, watching her head whip to face him. Cassandra seemed so annoyed by him saying that, her smile turned to a frown in a matter of seconds. "You're not so patient either."

"I am so." There was a lack of fight in her voice, making it look as if she had a hard time believing that herself.

"Just as you were patient to not stuff yourself full of candied almonds?" His eyes caught her cringing before quickly schooling her expression and bringing her hand hard on his arm with a slap. Not enough make the boy yelp, but enough to make him instantly soothe it with a rub from the slight sting.

"Enough! Are you never going to let me hear the end of that? It was just one time!" Finally, it felt like the two could laugh and breathe without any awkward tension becoming between them. For a moment, he could see his wife as a friend and not some princess he had been made to marry so quickly out fulfillment their fathers had about close Houses. For once, he was looking at Cassandra not Lady Cassandra Stark or Princess Cassandra Baratheon.

The stillness of the Godswood had always brought him peace, even more so now as he had someone to enjoy it with him. The wind would ruffle the branches of the trees, giving the surrounding area of prayer a song for them. The quiet would be interrupt now and again by his voice or hers, leaving their laughs echoing all around. If made him feel so strange to find happiness during such a time like this and he knew it wouldn't live but for so long.

The conversations that began and ended were all that could be considered childish. What games they would play in the North and the South, what they liked to do when they had time away from their studies and away from their siblings. He found out Cassandra liked to draw, which surprised him since he didn't see her doing much of that while she was here. She even promised to send Tommen and Myrcella some drawings should she explore more of the North.

It hadn't at all surprised her that he liked swordplay, practicing with a lance whether it was by himself or with another. She said Steffon was the same and even admitted that her twin liked to paint whenever he thought nobody would bother him. Just imagining the Crown Prince with a paintbrush and a canvas struck Robb as odd, but Cassandra assured him that if he were to have ever see it, he would find it fitting.

"I should buy a Myrish lens and make you watch the stars with me." She said, looking down at her feet that was adorned with black boots to keep her warm from the cold and eventually able to walk through the snow that was bound to fall and pile soon. "Do you know much about them? I know everything there is to know."

"Only a few things." He shrugged, never once taking interest in a matter of the twinkling lights that only shown themselves in the night. "I never caught the interest."

"I'll show you why you should." Her confidence didn't at all surprise him, "The stars should never be ignored. They can tell of the future and I think everyone deserves to have a little insight of the days of new."

Before Robb could explain that knowing the future wasn't always a good thing, Maester Luwin came to enter the Godswood, his hands hidden beneath his large sleeves as he made their way over. He bowed his head once the both of them were aware of him, but it was Cassandra that quickly brought herself to her feet. "Maester, is there any news of my goodmother?"

His lips curled into a smile as his wife quickly made her worries for his mother known. "Lady Stark is in no danger, Princess. When she is more than able, I'll be sure to have you see her. If I may, could I speak to your husband in private?" Furrowing his brows, Robb looked to the Maester with question and Cassandra seemed quite puzzled as well. Her head slowly turned to look at him before giving him the slightest of bows and taking her leave. He didn't have the chance to halt her to say that Cassandra should be allowed to hear whatever the Maester had to tell him. That's what his father would've done for his mother.

Since it was already too late, Robb made himself to stand. He couldn't help but feel there was something urgent about this business and that they would be made to leave once he was told of the details. "What is it, Maester Luwin?"

"Your mother wishes to speak with you." When Luwin said his mother was fine, he didn't inform him that she had woken. His mother slept for four days since the incident with Bran. "She deems it urgent."

"Then I will go to her." Before he could hurry himself to his mother's side, the bony hand of the Maester halted him. "What? You said she deems it urgent."

"She will be making her way here, my lord." Confused as to why his mother wanted to speak here, Robb tried to think what could be so important that she'd rather it stay in private in the Godswood. This was not the place of his mother's worship, but it was a quiet place. A place where secrets could be said and not be discovered, he soon put together.

Soon they were approached by Ser Rodrik and then Theon came after him. None of them held the knowledge of what his mother wanted to speak with them about and that made his worry twice as strong. By the time his mother had arrived, Robb had felt pity. Her fingers wore bandages still and she looked paler than she ever looked before. She was a woman still coming to terms from what happened days ago while her own son had been pursuing such frivolous things like closeness to his wife.

"What I am about to tell you must remain between us." His mother broke the silence and somehow, the Godswood had felt so much more eerie to him. He was tense, unsure, and afraid of what his mother was going to say. "I don't think Bran fell from that tower." Her eyes looked at each and everyone of them, "I think he was thrown."

With wide eyes, he immediately stare at his mother in disbelief. Thrown? Her words repeated in his head over and over as he tried to come to terms of this bold accusation. "The boy was always sure-footed before." Luwin seemed to agree as he told that to Ser Rodrik.

"Someone tried to kill him twice. Why?" Whether it was anger or sorrow, Robb was unsure of why his mother's voice trembled. He found anger seething within him, starting like a flame before it spread through him like wildfire. "Why murder an innocent child? Unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see."

"Saw what, my lady?" Theon asked.

"I don't know." His mother answered, "But I would stake my life that the Lannisters are involved. We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown."

Now his throat felt taut. Lannisters? For one, his wife was half a Lannister. Did his mother believe she could be involved in this as well? Confused, he kept himself silent. His mind was becoming a mess as he tried to push away any sort of thought that would dare connect Cassandra into all of this.

"Did you notice the dagger the killer used?" Ser Rodrik pointed out, holding the weapon within his hands. "It's too fine a weapon for such a man." He unsheathed it first, letting their eyes behold the sight of pure Valyrian steel that shined when shown. "The blade is Valyrian steel, the handle Dragonbone." After such a brief description, he sheathed the sword back in its scabbard. "A weapon like that has no business being in the hands of such as him. Someone gave it to him."

What if it were true? All arrows seemed to point it true. He was enraged, unable to control himself now. "They come into our home and try to murder my brother." This couldn't be forgotten. This could not be left without the hand of justice being given. "Why not let me take the dagger and let Cassandra see it. Surely, she could inform us of whom it would belong to."

His mother pondered the idea before closing her eyes, giving a shake of her head. "And what if she knows and tells us a lie? This is her family, Robb. As much as I want to believe Cassandra be not involved in this, she would want to protect her family, would she not? She holds a love for them far greater than she could feel for you."

But he was her husband. Bran was her brother now and they, the Starks, were her family now too; she was cloaked and given their name. They swore in front of the gods for the love of all things right. Would she truly turn a blind eye to those, family or no, that would bring an end to a child? Robb had thought her too highly of that.

"Then what do we do, Mother? Do we give them war? If it's war they want…" War? Against his wife's own family? Did it really have to go that far? And would she turn on him? Go running back to her Lannister family and leave him behind?

His best friend sided with him on this. Theon took a step forward, a step towards him in a means to prove his undoubted loyalty. "You know if it comes to that, I'll stand behind you."

Yet the Maester made sure they would perish the thought. "What?" He said questioningly, calm as he always was. "Is there going to be a battle in the Godswood, hm? Too easily words of war become acts of war, we don't know the truth yet."

The truth… Yes, he supposed the man was right. They did not know the truth. Robb was being reckless now, he realized. Turning his attention away from him, Luwin focused his eyes back to his mother. "Lord Stark must be told of this."

Catelyn seemed quite unsure about the matter of how such words should be presented. "I do not trust a raven to carry these words."

"I'll ride to King's Landing." Robb quickly offered, "And I'll take Cassandra with me and make it seemed we come to visit." Nobody would suspect a thing, would they? Although she hasn't been away home for long, it would be seen as the princess was eagerly homesick. Nobody would question that.

"No." His mother rejected the idea, smiling since she understood what he tried to do. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will go myself."

"Mother you can't—" As if that were a better decision. His mother going to the lion's den? She had to be mad to suggest that.

"I must." The woman insisted, almost fiercely. When his mother was that stubborn, you couldn't convince her of anything else.

Turning his head away, not liking all of what was happening and panning out, Robb was unsure of how he was supposed to deal with all of this. "I'll send Hallis with his guardsmen to escort you." Rodrik suggested, knowing the safety of his mother was paramount if what she suspected was actually true.

"Too large a party attracts unwanted attention. I will not have the Lannisters know that I am coming." Knowing the measure, she thought clearly on how she wanted this done despite how on the spot the decision was.

"Then let me accompany you at least." Ser Rodrik insisted, "Kingsroad can be a dangerous place for a woman alone."

She really decided to leave, to venture to danger, and Robb couldn't believe it. Even the Maester agreed to this ludicrous plan. "What about Bran?" Robb questioned, his voice holding all his pent up feelings and utter confusion. He was Lord of Winterfell now and all of this was happening under his nose and out of his control.

"I have prayed to the Seven for more than a month." His mother told him, her sad eyes looking steadily into his own. "Bran's life is in their hands now." Though he knew it true, he wanted his mother by Bran's side. That's what Bran needed; her. "I want your oaths." She demanded, all of their eyes drawn to hers. "If even part of what I suspect is true, Ned and my girls have ridden into deadly danger, and a word in the wrong ears could mean their lives."

"Lord Eddard is a second father to me," Theon informed her, unwaveringly so. "I do so swear."

"You have my oath," Maester Luwin gave a nod as he tugged at the chain around his neck.

"And mine, my lady." Ser Rodrik consented solemnly.

Now his mother's eyes laid on him, and how could Robb keep this secret? His wife could've been the key of getting the truth squared away and his mother wanted to make this the very first secret in his newly marriage. "And you, Robb?" He wanted to tell her no, that they could go about this way differently. But with the way she was looking at him, pleading with the eyes they shared in color, he couldn't do it. So he gave her a nod, a silent one. One that gave confirmation to this oath.

For now, Robb was going to keep his little brother safe. If there had been one killer then others could be bound to arrive. He put one man in the sickroom day and night, one outside the door, and two at the bottom of the stairs. Not a single person would be allowed to see him without his permission now.

STEFFON

You would think a person would be happy to come back home after being away for a few months. Steffon, however, felt all but numb about it. So what if he was back in King's Landing? He had no happiness, just qualms about returning here. It should've made him pleased to be back in own home, sleeping in his own bed again, able to do all the things he usually did, but it was nothing to him now. Every bit of this castle had secrets upon secrets about his family and they were slowly unravelling now that he was aware of them. All families have secrets, don't they? But were their secrets as lethal as his? Probably. Not every family was a happy one. Not everyone could have a family like the Starks, Steffon supposed.

His newly knight, Mycah, followed him obediently as they walked. The boy was quick to say a yes and seemed to be slowly easing into his new role quite nicely. Since he was so young and should have to do it properly, he would act as page and squire until he was of four and ten. The boy was still young, but Steffon found him promising. Although Mycah's rescue had been for his own personal gain, Steffon was truly glad that there was something good that Mycah was finding in all of this.

"I suppose you know your training won't be easy, Mycah." Making conversation, the redhead boy immediately lifted his head, eyes compliantly meeting his out of politeness.

"I know, my prince." The boy said quietly, "But I am willin'. Trust me, I am."

Whether if it was because his heart was tender or he just liked seeing someone of strong-will, Steffon believed his words. "Seven is the starting age of most pages, but you are eleven, that doesn't give you any slack, you must remember that. You will have to work thrice as hard." He began to explain as they continued to climb up the steps of the Red Keep, "You'll be older than most of your peers, but the lord I assigned you to will treat you well. He will assign you to falconers and huntsmen, he will choose the Maesters that you will learn from."

"Might I ask who the Lord be, my prince?"

"Lord Renfred Rykker." One of the few lords of the Crownlands he happened to get well acquainted with. It was due to Renly that Steffon knew of him and had the chance to meet him, but by asking this favor of him, he knew the Lord of Duskendale would one day come to ask something in return. That was the price that Steffon was willing to pay one day. All favors were met with favors in the South. "He is a good man and will take care of you well. I mind you to beware that he is strict and does not like to repeat himself, not ever. If he tells you something once, best pray you remember it. Other than that, when you're not with him, you will assist the other men of the Kingsguard. My uncle will make sure you carry and clean their armor, take care of their horses, and pack their baggage."

It was a lot, especially for a newly made page, but the Crown Prince had some faith that Mycah could do it. Possibly because the boy had no choice but to now. He was already knighted but he had to go through the process like anyone else if he wanted him perfectly fit for the Kingsguard. People would already accuse Steffon of favoritism by choosing a commoner, he couldn't be soft on him now. "If you're lucky and don't step on anyone's toes, you'll get to go on expeditions and receive swordsmanship by those that find you worthy. You have a lot to learn, Mycah. I apologize you'll have to learn it all so quickly."

"No apologies, my prince. I am all but eager. I always wanted to be a knight, I know the costs."

Smiling, Steffon gave a slow nod. "Good, you'll be sent straight away to Lord Rykker by first light. Tell Arya and your father your goodbyes as you make preparations."

Mycah separated from him, possibly to tell his father of the news and spend time with him as Steffon suggested. Now he was left alone ( aside from Silver at his heels ), he could finally deal with the emptiness the Red Keep that he suddenly felt. Cassandra wasn't here and the first place his feet found himself going was to her room, just to find it neat as the day she left it. Well, she didn't leave it neat. The girl was such a slob, the servants had to fix the place as they always did or else he would've found dresses littering the floor, shoes to trip over, and open books on every desk, table, and whichever surface that they could be laid on.

His eyes looked around, smiling as he did, before walking towards the balcony. Her room faced the ocean, which she loved so much, while he could see Flea Bottom and Dragonpit from his. When she was first given this room when they were five, when their father found it unnatural for them to share their room any longer, she had been so happy that she could see the ocean and the ships after all her crying about how she didn't want to separate. Cassandra was still the same in that regard. She cried about parting with him for her new family, but he was sure that she would be happy about remaining in Winterfell eventually.

"Feels strange to see it empty, doesn't it?" Steffon hadn't moved from his place, his head remained gazing out at the ocean waters while his uncle came ambling through. Jaime leaned against the railing of the balcony as he did, looking out in the distance as well. "I'm going to miss that girl. I suppose I already do."

As much as he didn't want to speak with him, Steffon knew he couldn't just outright ignore him. It would be too suspicious on his part, especially considering now of all times. So he would play the lonely brother, the nephew that needed consolation. Perhaps he might learn something if he did. "You're going to miss her giving you hell?"

"She didn't give me hell all the time." Smiling, he shook his head. "She was the one good distraction I had from watching that father of yours like a wet-nurse watches a babe."

"I thought my mother was the better distraction in your regards." The quip left him before it was too late to change it or take it back. Luckily for him, Jaime didn't understand the double meaning.

"I can't rely on your mother all the time, now can I?" Setting his jaw, Steffon eyed his uncle vehemently from the corner of his eyes. "Your mother tells me you've been quite the ass to her as of late." He nearly forgotten just how close they once were. How he could be honest with his uncle, never holding back what he wanted to say. And now? Now he couldn't be a blatantly honest as he used to anymore. "Is it because you miss, Cassie? Is that why you saved that little swine-bathed boy? All in efforts to spite your mother? I believe she overreacted about the whole thing too, but going against her isn't very much like you, nephew."

With a snort, he pushed himself away from the railing and turned to his uncle, forcing himself to smile. "Really? I didn't notice I was behaving that way." Why was his mother and uncle watching him as of late? Neither one could be onto his motives, his intentions, so why were they studying him? Was he behaving that suspiciously or maybe their own paranoia of not getting caught on so many levels was making them watch everyone so closely nowadays? "I miss my sister, dearly, but that's not the reason why I saved the butcher's boy, Uncle. I'm just against putting a blade to a child is all."

'Unlike you, who could push a boy from a tower. Murderer.' Was what he spat in his mind. 'Kingslayer? Childslayer should be said all the same.' To think he once thought his uncle was deserving of such a title? He should've been given far worse names. "When did you get so soft of heart for children, Steff? I've never seen you so…" Jaime paused, brow quirked and head tilted, "passionate about life."

"Since I became an older brother." Once before, he thought of what if someone did to Tommen what they had done to Bran. He seethed at the thought. Honestly, if someone dared to push Joffrey like that, Steffon would still be as fiercely protective and righteously angry. No matter how shaky things were between Steff and Joff, he would never allow someone to hurt him. He still felt some pangs of guilt over what transpired at the Trident. Now that the high of vengeance was cooling down, he found himself not liking the route he had taken.

Their father once beat Joffrey before because he cut open a kitchen cat that had a swollen belly filled with kittens. Their king father tried to beat the sense into him and it was Steffon who shielded him while their mother begged for Robert to stop. Steffon could remember Joffrey's cries and how he trembled in his hold, how Joffrey held him to be his shield and to protect them. Back then Steffon had felt the brunt of their father's anger, the slaps and screams whenever he had done something wrong just by a slip. Steffon loved his father and still did, but even he knew that all of what he would do wasn't right.

"I became like that too when Tyrion was born." He heard his uncle say as he pulled himself out of flashes of the past in his mind's eye. Steffon raised his eyes to look at his uncle, who seemed to be going back to those times as well. "Your mother wished he would die ever since he was brought into this world, but everything in me wanted to protect him. Even now, both of us grown, I still want to protect my baby brother."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear; humanity in someone he wanted to hate. Something good out of the mouth of someone who was deceiving and committing wrongs. Steffon was well aware of the close relationship that his uncles had and he had always admired such a thing since he wished the same could be said between him and Joffrey. At least his relationship with Tommen was still good. Hopefully, he could still protect Tommen from this world and all the cruel people as well as dangers within it.

Turning away from him, Steffon looked back out at the horizon. This conversation still didn't temper the anger in him or the impulsive actions quickening in his head.

NED

The council meeting brought him no pleasure down from the company and to the state of the South. All he had learned had made his head ache and kept his mind busy when it should've been in sound rest once he was far away. Even when he was rid of Renly, Varys, Littlefinger and Pycelle, he felt their presence stuck to his clothes like an awful stench. They were silhouetting all around him in such a vulgar kind of way. Just to think he would have to deal with them for long had him sighing so heavily that he thought his lungs might collapse from all the air that left him.

Last he heard of the King was that he rode through the city with Ser Barristan riding beside him. What surprised him was that Steffon decided to skip out on such an important appearance, knowing very well the Crown Prince should've shown his face to the people. His people. He noticed the boy wasn't himself or at least the self he seen him to be for the short time they spent on the road together. The boy was quiet more often than not and always walking somewhere with a purpose. Even now, he couldn't find the boy where he need be. Ned couldn't help but to find the boy's sudden disappearances suspicious.

Knowing that looking and finding what the boy took himself busy of should've been his priority, he instead met with the boy by chance. By stroke of luck, he saw the golden-haired Stag speaking to a cloaked man. "Thank you for retrieving this for me." And with a pouch with gold pieces surely within it, he dropped it in the palm of the man's hand and unrolled the parchment to read its contents. Normally, Ned would've dismissed for a letter that he had no business knowing the contents, but with the way the boy had been sly as of late, he was unsure if he could simply ignore it all.

As if he knew he was being watched, Steffon turned to face him and gave him a small smile. He did not look startled and nor did he seem displeased. He looked as if he had nothing to hide and for that, Ned let his suspicions die for a moment. "Did you just leave your very first council meeting, Lord Stark? Tell me, what is it all that you dreamed?"

With a titter, Ned crossed his arms. "How well do you know what is going on under your father's rule, my prince?"

"I know well enough." He replied in aloof, rolling the letter back at up. "I know my father likes to spend coins than count them. I know he's probably plotting to hold a tourney for you, he loves them. Tourney for the Hand? It's really for him, not for you. I know that Littlefinger and the Spider love their runarounds and false courtesies. I know my Uncle Renly makes a joke and jibe out of everything and to everyone. Oh, did the Maester fall asleep? He did, didn't he? He does that quite a lot."

The sarcasm might have been as visible as the sun, but the truth shone brighter. The Crown Prince was not ignorant of his father's folly. At least Ned didn't have the groom the boy to know what was wrong and right in that part of court. "You know all of this and didn't wish to warn me?" He wasn't angry, he just wondered why the boy kept it all to himself. Steffon was good, he reasoned. He was sure the boy would at least warn him of this catastrophe.

"I wanted you to see how much chaos is really here and assess it for yourself." Understanding his point, the Lord of Winterfell gave an nod. "Also, would you have believed me? You wouldn't think my father would be that reckless, now would you?" Another good point. Robert was hardly the man he remembered or the king he hoped he would be. "I could give you advice now if you'd like."

"And what advice would that be, Prince Steffon?" The smile that had remained on his face faltered and his brows bowed to show his seriousness. In a matter of minutes, the boy transformed, just like he had several shades in the pavilion in the defense of Arya.

"You trust no one, especially not Baelish. That man is a snake in the form of a man." He thought he was going to hear something more sinister about Varys, by his surprise. "He only works for what is best for him. Believes me when I say this Lord Stark: watch him, play his duel of words and games, but do not lower the sword. Never lower the sword and keep it at his neck."

Just what had Littlefinger done to provoke such distrust in the Crown Prince? You would think Petyr would try his best to remain on the boy's best side since he was the future king. "I believe you were made aware that my Uncle Stannis is not here? I just received word from him that he wants me to come to see him in Dragonstone."

Odd. It was truly odd that Stannis wanted his nephew to travel to see him and it was obviously because he did not trust any words to be carried by a raven. Just what could Stannis want his nephew to know after he fled like this? Why did Stannis flee in the first place?

"Hopefully Arya gets to spend time with her friend before he goes to Duskendale." Steffon quickly informed him, satiating his curiosity as to what the butcher's boy was currently doing. "I might be away for a month or so but when I come back, I hope to see you haven't fall into the pit of our good ol' Southern chaos, Lord Stark."

And with that, the prince had left and Ned wondered just what was going on. Everyone was having a hidden agenda, cryptic messages, and he felt like he was in a sea of vipers. Just what the hell was going on in King's Landing?

CASSANDRA

Something was… off.

The way Robb looked at her now was not the same it was before. In fact, he had been quite distant from her as of late and she found it most troubling. Since the day they had met, he had been the one to initiate everything, whether it be for them to spend time together or just simply speaking. Now he did nothing, said not one word or even took a chance to glance her way. This all began ever since his mother had woken from her medicine induced slumber that Cassandra discovered a day ago.

The day after she left Robb in the Godswood to speak to the Maester alone, he told her the very next day what became of her goodmother. He informed her of the wounds the woman suffered through were deep, near the bone, to the point he made her drink Milk of the Poppy and had her sleep in peace while he tended to her. She was completely free of feeling the pain in her fingers. It made sense and it worried her some, but he continued to instill that the woman was fine and did not need her fretting. Cassandra didn't have a clue how to approach the woman when she would wake. In fact, when she did awake, Cassandra wasn't even told right away. Josselyn had come to tell her that Lady Catelyn wished to see the Maester, Ser Rodrik, Theon, and Robb in the Godswood during the day she left Robb and Luwin. Cassandra couldn't help but to find that… unsettling.

That's when Robb changed.

It all could've been in her head. That was a possibility and yet she didn't think she was just fabricating all of this. What could've happened in that meeting to make him so similar to stories of Winter nights? Cold and making the heart feel lonely, longing for some proper warmth, even if it was just a flickering and single flame. In her days here, Cassandra could compare Robb to one of the brightest things in her current life and that's why she tended to shun him. He was blinding in that kind of way and now she was longing to be bathed in his presence, even if it was just for a short while. It could've been her own childish arrogance of not liking to be ignored as well. Even she, herself, found how moody she was annoying at times.

Rickon still came around with Shaggydog at his heels during his visits. Shaggydog was quite the hostile thing, but she was sure the direwolf was growing used to her presence by now. It still didn't mean Ryia and Shaggy got along, the two often seized another up and Rickon tried to placate his companion and she had done the same with hers. The intensity in their meetings, like lions and wolves, was starting remind her of her own family against the Starks.

Wondering if Robb would return late into the night again, she made herself a cup of tea to enjoy and keep herself awake for a few more hours. Instead of just worrying about the distance between her and her husband, she knew it would be wiser to try to ask him about it. Robb was always kind to her before, offering explanations here and there, so why not now? Why should she be so fearful to question his moods? What was she truly afraid that he would tell her?

An hour or so she guessed passed, leaving her sinking into the bed and fighting against the boredom of the quiet room. Here she was, lying in bed alone, with Ryia chewing at the steak bone she left meatless hours ago. The lion was quite content in her own bed, not caring that Robb or Grey Wind had come when they should have. Perhaps the animal had the right idea of not caring, just having "they'll come when they come" kind of attitude.

"Ryia." The lioness paused mid bite upon hearing her name and raised her head to look up at her master. Cassandra patted the empty space to her left, allowing the lion to lay herself atop of the furs beside her. Placing the bone down on her cot, she did as her master wanted and laid down next to her side. At least she could cure some of her boredom by petting the soft, pristine fur of the lion while she waited for Robb's return. "I bet he doesn't think I'm sleep yet. He's probably not going to show up until midnight." Talking to herself or talking to Ryia? Cassandra had no clue. "What is his problem anyway? What did I do to deserve to be ignored?"

The Hrakkar purred under touch, enjoying the mindless scratching of her fingers, and not really listening to her. She could feel soft paws, padding against her arm as the lion rolled on its back and tried to lick her limb. "Why should I care anyway? I've done the same to him too, haven't I? I've avoided him constantly, for days…" Frowning, her hands stop mid petting as her shoulders drooped. "Is this how he felt? Would he wait for me just to see I… I didn't care if he did or not?"

'I'm a terrible wife.' The sudden thought came to her, her frown growing deeper and the guilt blossoming strongly. 'It's not like I wanted to be his wife anyway, but I could at least been a bit kinder… Couldn't I?'

The door suddenly opened, yanking her from her thoughts due to how startled she was. Robb strode in, eyes drooping and shoulders slacked. He seemed so tired and unlikely to even begin to want a conversation. Ryia sat up to see Grey Wind following after him, Robb shut the door once the wolf was in and immediately began to rid himself of his cloak.

The silence was uncomfortable. The room was empty of conversation and the only sounds were the sounds of his straps unloosening and the lazy thump of him piling his clothes on the nearby chair. It was like he didn't have the energy to properly his clothes away, which was odd since Robb was neater than she could ever be. Ryia jumped down, walking to sniff Grey Wind just to find the wolf eyeing her as she circled him. At least he hadn't changed, not like Robb had in this short span of time.

"Your duties have kept you busy?" Small talk was what it was, at least it was a start. She could try to begin with this or just wait until tomorrow to ask him about his curious behavior towards her as of late.

"Yes, my lady." Her brows instantly furrowed at how monotone he sounded, like he didn't even want to speak. My lady? Robb never said that to her before. It was also her first name or wife. Never my lady. With a tunic and loose pair of sleeping trousers, he climbed into bed and laid down with his back turned towards her with the blankets and furs brought to his chin. Now she knew she wasn't imagining all of this. This wasn't just something her mind was conjuring, this was entirely real.

Clenching her fists, Cassandra sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as she contemplated on whether she should pursue this tonight or not. She wanted to, she prepared herself to, but he seemed so tired, like he didn't want to be bothered. "Robb." His name spilled from her lips without another thought coming across her mind. Before she could count that he might've been tired from his newly lord's day work, she already decided not to mind his current mood.

"Yes?" He answered her, still turned away, but obviously informing her that he was listening.

"How is your lady mother?" Her eyes observed the way he seemed much more still upon her question. "I was not informed she had awoken. Is there something wrong?" Perhaps his mother was the root of all of this.

Her husband did not utter another word, just staying still. Her patience was wearing thin and she had half a mind to yank him to face her. "Does that trouble you?"

Confused by his question and annoyed he was giving her a runaround, she tried to keep herself civil as possible. "She is my goodmother, she nearly had her life taken from her, of course her I am troubled that I was not made aware she is awake."

Slowly, he made himself sit up and turned himself to look at her, his blue eyes scanning all over her face. Why was he looking at her like that? With suspicion? It aggravated her and left her muddled. "Tell me…when the fire happened, did you really not sense anything amiss?" They hadn't spoken of the fire since it happened and now he was curious about it?

"I didn't." Cassandra slowly raised a brow, alarmed by what the meaning of this topic meant. "I thought I was by myself when Josselyn left me. When I went to close the door, that vile man upon accident pushed a book out of its shelf. That's how I realized he was there and we fought… and then he locked me in after pushing the candle to start the fire. Why are you asking me about this?"

His eyes were still searching all over face and she still was unsure why. Usually such a transfixed gaze from him would leave her feeling flustered and yet now there was something… something accusing about it. Did he…? Did he think she was lying to him? Why would she lie and nearly have herself killed? Burned alive for that matter; one the worse deaths a person could ever go through and so willingly? What was he thinking? Was he thinking about this the whole time he spent his time away from her? Did his mother actually plant that seed in his head?

Question after question came swirling, so much that she was bound to get a headache if left to continue. She didn't want to believe that he would actually think so lowly of her. She even found herself saddened by the fact that he would question her like this. As soon as she was letting Robb in, one step at a time, she found that she should've kept the door closed and locked.

"I'm not saying I don't trust you, Cassandra." As if he read her mind, he said that and now she was beginning to believe all she was thinking was being confirmed true. "I just think… It just seems…" Her lord husband could barely get a sentence out, his eyes finally giving themselves a break from their intense stare-off from her face to look absently down at the blanket. "I don't want to think you're like them…."

"Like who?" Squaring her jaw, Cassandra bowed her brows as she awaited his answer.

"Like your family." That struck her, hard. What nerve did he have to say that? Why was he bashing her family right before her very face? The Lannisters and Starks, she knew, weren't great friends, but for him to say this? To insult her family? That enraged her.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Robb?! What is so wrong with my family that you dare say that to my face?!" It was hard, to keep her voice leveled, but she was downright offended. How dare he say that? Her family might have not been perfect, but they were hers and she'd rather bite the throat off in the likeness of Summer of anyone that dared to speak ill of them. Words were just as heavy and powerful as the sword; they had impact, they could damn an entire reputation.

Not a trace of him looked as if he was going to take what he said back. Instead, he looked as if he stood completely behind what he told her. "I think it's quite clear that it was someone in your family that pushed my little brother from the tower and then they sent that bastard to come finish the job."

Stunned, her eyes widened as her lips pried apart in her state of shock. Bran's fall had been accidental; the boy loved to climb and he slipped, she was told that. Why would her family want to harm a little boy? Why in Seven hells would he think that? "Are you accusing my family for trying to murder a child?!"

"And if I am? Your uncle, he stayed behind, didn't he? Instead of following his king to the hunt, he stayed behind along with your mother during the time Bran had fallen." Now he was incensed as she was, his once gelid eyes now ablaze as he spoke.

How could she soak all of this in? She was still unsure of why he boldly assumed her family was involved in this. Did Lady Stark assume this as well? Was her family going to be wrongly accused for the terrible fall and near murder of Brandon Stark?

Cassandra did find it strange how her uncle did not accompany her father and brother to the hunt. She wanted to scold him for it. She even told Robb how much she had disliked it before he left. But her Uncle Jaime, pushing a boy out of a tower to fall to his death? No, she couldn't scarcely fathom that. No, her Uncle Jaime wouldn't do something like that. Why would he harm a little boy? What sense did that make? And her mother would never harm a child, of that Cassandra felt so sure of. Her mother was not that kind of person. Her mother may have been unkind to outsiders, but she would not kill a child.

"You're mad!" The former princess practically yelled, wanting to sink her fist into his face. It was because she could control herself and knew that arguing and fighting wouldn't change anything, she kicked the blankets off the lower half of her body and stood to her feet. The floor was colder than she thought now that she was barefeet, but her anger quickly override that sudden chill of her soles. "You can go rot, Robb Stark! I cannot believe you and your mother would think so lowly of my family and then you look at me like I would kill myself or lay a hand of harm to little Bran! You can most certainly rot!"

All she wanted to do is be far away from him. Perhaps she'd sleep in Sansa or Arya's old room for the time being. Wherever she had went, she wanted to be faraway from Robb Stark, that's for damn sure.

"Cassandra!" His rough hand wrapped itself around her wrist, attempting to keep her fro stomping right out at the door like she was about it. Using all her strength to pull her wrist away from him, she struggled to get herself out of his hold, but his other hand had taken a tight lock to her other wrist.

"Unhand me! Unhand me right now!" If he would not see reason then she could not see it as well. All she wanted was to be far from him and he was stopping her from doing just that. "I said unhand me!"

He didn't listen. Robb only tightened his hold on her wrist, enough to keep her from being unable to make him budge. "I didn't think you were involved in all of this. I want to believe you are innocent, but I can't believe that your family is as well."

Narrowing her eyes, Cassandra gave him a ferocious glare. "You want to believe? You mean you want to believe me innocent and yet you sit here and look at me as if I'm guilty. And then, you assume my family guilty off of such baseless things?! …Is that… Is that why you've been ignoring me all this time? Because you think me and my family are out to harm your little brother?!"

It all made sense why he was keeping his distance. Why wouldn't he if he thought she was some sort of child-killer? Her body was flaring with so much rage that she thought steam might come off her head. Every second she was spending looking at him, listening to him, she wanted scream. "Then what am I to believe, Cassandra? That your family is innocent? That the dagger found on that man's body did not come from someone wealthy? A dagger made with Valyrian steel with a Dragonbone hilt. It couldn't have belonged to the likes of him. Do you not see how condemning such evidence is?"

Valyrian steel and a Dragonbone hilt? Why did that seem so familiar to her? Her eyes absently looked at the corner of the room, her eyes squinting as her mind tried to conjure up when she had heard or seen such a dagger of that description.

She couldn't trace where she heard, seen, or who it could possibly belong to. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought aside. "That doesn't mean my family did it, it easily could've been anyone." The Stark might've made enemies of another family, and perhaps their enemy tried to frame her own? She supposed she couldn't fault him for coming to this conclusion, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to protect her family without a fight.

"Let me speak to your mother then." Still pulling her arms to free herself of his grasp, she found that he still refused to let her go. "I can explain to her if this is what she believes. Let me see the dagger for myself and I promise to tell her the truth."

For a second, she saw his expression falter. Cassandra had thought she baited him and instead, she was given a sigh and froze when his forehead pressed to her own. With her eyes big and staring, she studied his face as he kept his eyes closed, looking quite pained. "I swore to my mother to keep this from you and I broke my oath. I broke my oath to my own mother."

He sounded so defeated, annoyed, and upset with himself. And here she was, forcing herself not to smile at the fact that he had broke an oath to tell her this. Something like this was supposed to be kept from the dark from her and yet her husband trusted her so much to actually tell her the truth against his own will.

"Robb, if my family has anything to do with Bran's fall…" Cassandra still didn't want to believe it. She just couldn't see why any of her family would do this, but if it were true? What was she to do? Would she have to choose between her new family or her own blood? Naturally, she'd choose the family she always knew except she found herself walking a thin line if she wanted to betray Robb or not. For him to be her enemy? It didn't make her happy and nor was it desirable in any shape or form.

She come to like Rickon and his sisters she didn't have much time with. Lord Stark had been nothing but good to her since she knew him and she had wanted to know more of Lady Stark. Would she have to give all of that up? Cassandra should've been happy at the disturbance of this marriage, to be able to flee back to her mother's arms and at her twin's side, but she wasn't happy about that at all.

"Let me see the dagger." If it belonged to not one member of her family then this could all end, wouldn't it? Their speculations only came to be because of the assassin, right? Cassandra could clear her family's name if she could identify the dagger did not belong to her family, but it was the matter if they would believe her or not that was the concern.

With uncertainty in his eyes, Robb exhaled and let her go. He left their bedchamber, hopefully so that she could put an end to all of this. Cassandra closed her eyes, praying to the Seven that this had been nothing but an misunderstanding. If she could prove her family's innocence then then she would have fix this temporary mess with Robb. Even if it meant she would have to stay married to him, she was willing in efforts to protect her mother and uncle, who were the main suspects in all of this this.

Robb returned to her, not alone but with Ser Rodrik that kept the dagger on his person. Her husband kept his head low, almost like he was ashamed to bring the man here. "My lady, I…" Ser Rodrik began, his eyes slewing to the young lord, "I don't think you should put yourself in the middle of this."

"This is my family, Ser Rodrik." The former princess told him sternly, "Whether it has been for a short time or no, the Starks are my family as well. Let me put an end to all of this."

After a short-lived stare off, the older man finally pulled the dagger out from his sword belt and laid it in her hands. She had been so confident, already believing how unfamiliar it was. "This dagger…" Her voice trailed slowly, like her words were unwilling to finish what they were meant to say. Her eyes looked closely and her mind was sent reeling, unable to comprehend or process the images that kept flashing in her mind. This dagger…

The sadness came in waves, right after the shock. Her green eyes tried their best not to be the size of the golden shields she watched her Lannister family's army wield. This dagger had belong to none other than her father. She remembered this, she remembered this because she was right there during that tourney for Joffrey's birthday and watched her father and Littlefinger bet against her Uncle Jaime. This dagger was the prize and her father had won by the stroke of luck and bragged about it for days.

Of course, Cassandra knew for certain that her father would never send anyone to kill a little boy, especially not Ned Stark's boy. Her father was off in the Wolfswood during the hunt while it happened, Bran's fall that is, but how could this dagger end up in another's hands? He was framed or someone was simply using it to frame her Lannister family. That was the only thing that made much sense to her at least. Swallowing thickly, she wondered if she should keep this to herself or actually tell the truth. Robb and Ser Rodrik were waiting, eyes unable to tear away from her until she gave them an answer, and now she wished she didn't push the issue.