Cassandra:
Red Wedding Crasher

By: Myst-Dragon

Chapter 1

spoiler warning.
This crossover fic references an important scene in GRRM's "A Storm of Swords"
end warning.

Note: Cassandra Katro can also be found in her own stories by me on FictionPress.

The transfer through time and space had gone the same as the others. Cassandra had taken one step in her walk on a city sidewalk, and the next step landed her in the middle of a forest. As she looked around, she saw the setting sun turning the sky red. As the young woman took in her surroundings with all of her senses, she was reminded of the time the winds of fate had blown her to Britain, before the country had become one. She was glad that it didn't seem to be winter, like it had been then; though the cool and damp atmosphere made her thankful for the bedroll strapped to her pack. After a few moments spent considering what she should do, she felt a gust of wind and began to walk in the direction it had blown.

After awhile of walking, she decided to make camp in a small grove. She first sat her pack down on the stump of a white tree, and then searched the site for a few rocks. Once the rocks were set up in a circle near the stump, Cassandra held out her left hand and focused her chi. As the energy of her body and spirit gathered; she concentrated on the image of her katana and the energy flowed from her hand, forming her sheathed sword. With her curved sword in hand, the brown-haired young woman took a breath as she walked beneath a tree. Her sword burst from its scabbard as she leapt towards the branches and before gravity called her back to the ground, her Japanese steel had returned home and several branches joined her descent. She tucked her sword into her belt before gathering what would soon be the fuel for her campfire.

In its current condition the wood wasn't very useful to her, so she decided to use the technique known as the Burning Soul, which was one she'd discovered on her own while training after madman had managed to injure her. Cassandra began to concentrate on the moment when the man who'd taught her father the Spirit Dragon Style martial art had tricked her into diving through the portal known as the Pool of Fate. It didn't take long for the anger brought about by the memory of Master Hiken's trick to heat her chi, and as her energy became hot, so did the air around her. She then focused the energy into her arms and gently waved them over the branches to dry out the wood. Once the task was completed, she sighed, letting go of the memory and her anger. The air was still cooling by the time she'd lit a small campfire, using a flint from her pack, and set up her bedroll, using a root of the white tree stump as a pillow. She sat down on her bedroll with a contented smile. "Ah, the life of a wanderer." She scanned the area as she began to wonder about the strong spirit presence she sensed, but then shrugged as she put the sensation off as just the remnants of some battle that might have been fought here.

As Cassandra slept, she dreamed, but it wasn't like any sort of dream she'd experienced before. It felt as though someone was trying to show her something. She saw two castles; one on either side of a bridge. At the gates to one side of the castle a group of men waited on horseback as another group approached. Ahead of an army she couldn't help but make note of three people in particular. They were a young man, a woman, and a man. All three shared red-brown hair. Both men wore beards, but the younger one seemed to have a more hardened face. With the three riders, walked a gray wolf. To call this animal large would be a gross understatement. The wolf didn't seem to care for the men waiting at the gate and as it voiced its feelings, one of the men was thrown from his horse. It seemed to take a bit of work for the young man to calm the wolf, or at least to make it a little calmer than it was. Once the wolf had been brought under control, the group was lead in, but before they entered the castle proper the wolf was lead off to the kennels.

Time seemed to shift ahead to the young man with red-brown hair and his companions standing before an old man sitting in a large chair that had the back patterned after the twin castles of his home and bridge crossing the river. Like calling the wolf large, calling this man old was a grievous understatement. He was bald, with a spotted head. He spoke to the young man in a mocking tone with a cackle for a laugh. The young man spoke of making apology and hoping to rejoin their houses in friendship, but the old man brought out some of his daughters and granddaughters and told the young man that he should apologize to them for not keeping his promise to choose a bride from one of their lot. Soon after the young man, whom the old man had made reference to as the King in the North, had made his apologies to the girls; the reason for their arrival had been brought out. A young woman was brought out and announced as the bride to be for the man who'd come with the young king that shared his brown-red hair and a few other features. It came to Cassandra as she watched this play out in its vagueness that the man was the young king's uncle and the woman was his mother.

Time shifted once more, this time to a feast. The people were cramped in their tables, even those at the head table. The proportions of spirits to food seemed to strike Cassandra as odd as she watched to scene play out. The king's uncle was enjoying his new wife, while the king's mother was stuck next to one man who seemed to be sweating out his drink. The musicians present, were either not very good or chose poorly composed songs. Soon one man who'd come with the young king, had left the hall. Later the king's uncle and his bride were led off to bed, as the feast continued. As the king's mother tried to ask one of the old man's brood some questions, the man turned from her to walk off, and she grabbed his arm. Something seemed to surprise her at that moment, and the man struck her. As the king made his way to block the man's path, a crossbow bolt struck the young man with red-brown hair, and soon after more bolts followed from the musicians who'd traded their instruments for crossbows. From then it was chaos in the hall, and in the end; the king, his mother and other's lay dead. Cassandra's perception shifted outside the castle as the same chaos had consumed the camps. Tents burned as the young king's men were slaughtered by men who wore the symbol of a man who was skinned and that of the castle's connected by a bridge. She also saw a man with a metallic hound's head fleeing the chaos with a brown-haired child.

As Cassandra woke from the strange dream, she shook her head as if to rid herself of a chill. "Was that really a dream?" She asked herself in a whisper and question continued in her mind as she got out of her bedroll and ate a few of the provisions from her pack. As she looked up, the gray sky made her sigh. "Oh what a lovely day this will be." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she made sure her campfire was completely out and began her meditation to gather and focus her chi. She closed her eyes and moved her arms in a slow, circular pattern. As she meditated, she became more aware of a spiritual presence.

She soon began to hear a weak voice whisper in her mind, gradually getting stronger until she saw images from the dream and she finally understood the voice yelling "Help them!" The images and the yell startled the young woman from her meditation as water began to gently sprinkle from the forlorn sky. Cassandra sighed once more and fixed her hair into its usual ponytail, before heading out using her bedroll as a makeshift cloak. She followed the direction the spiritual presence seemed to be urging her, wondering if the dream actually was a vision given to her by whatever the spirit was.