AN: Oh wow, so many reviews, alerts, and favourites already! Thank you all so much :3
Also, if any of you were wondering what I picture Cassana looking like, there's a like on my profile if you click on her name. I used the actress Anita Briem, who played Jane Seymour in 'The Tudors'.
Happy reading!

Chapter 2: Cold as Hearts

"Jon, you fight like an old woman!" Robb taunted as he deflected another thrust from his brother.

"At least I fight like a human, not a lumbering ox," Jon shot back, side-stepping the blow Robb threw at his left side.

"Ha!"

Robb let out a bark of laughter as he and his brother clashed training blades in the courtyard of Winterfell. Their father's master-at-arms watched them carefully, but made no comments. Ser Roderick Cassel had been tutoring them in the sword since they had been boys, there was very little he had left to teach them, and so he was content to watch his pupils spar with the skills he had given them.

The Northern afternoons were growing increasingly chilled, but the boys had worked up a fair sweat with their exercise. It was just the distraction they both needed after this morning's events. The face of the Watchman deserter flashed across Robb's mind as he struck. One day, it would be him who would have to pass the sentence and swing the sword, was he ready? He didn't feel it.

The two brothers were incredibly evenly matched, and more frequently than not, these duels ended in an amicable draw. Which generally meant that they reached a point where they tossed aside their swords, and began trying to wrestle each other to the ground.

Robb felt that he and Jon were nearing this point, when he was distracted by an attendant.

"Lord Robb! Your father wishes to see you urgently!"

"What?"

Robb's attention was off the match, and Jon took full advantage, swinging hard at his brother, and knocking the sword from his unfocused fingers.

"My win," he proclaimed with a smile, holding his sword to his brother's throat.

Robb's eyes narrowed in mock menace, but he was laughing all the same as he clasped hands with his brother.

"Very well, brother, this time."

"Lord Robb," the attendant prompted.

He turned around, "Yes?"

"Your father wishes to see you, now."

Robb did frown this time, "What for?"

"He didn't say my Lord," the attended shrugged apologetically, "But he and your lady-mother are waiting for you in the council chamber."

Robb sighed, "Well, I'd better not keep them." He pointed his sword at his brother, "Next time, my victory!"

"Dream on," Jon taunted with a smile.

Robb walked over to the weapons rack, replacing his sword, before removing the hardened leather armour he'd worn for practice. He wasn't in his most presentable state, but he knew that his parents were used to summoning him from practice, so he wasn't overly bothered by the worn state of his shirt and vest.

A frown creased his brow as he paced the long halls of Winterfell, what could his parents be summoning him for? Was it a whole family matter, or had it just been him? His new direwolf pup trotted along at his heels, occasionally racing ahead, but always scampering back to Robb. Pausing momentarily to bend down and scratch the ears of Grey Wind, he allowed himself a moment to considering some possibilities, before he erased them. He didn't want to go in with pre-empted expectations.

He pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the council chamber, and saw that only his father and mother were awaiting him inside, seated at the long table which took up the centre of the room. Grey Wind followed him into the chamber, going off on his own sniffing explorations as Robb stood to attention before his parents.

"Father, you wanted to see me?"

"Indeed, son, sit down," Ned Stark commanded.

"Are the others coming?" Robb asked; taking the seat to his father's right, opposite his mother.

"No, this is something that we wished to speak to you alone about first, before we announce it to the family and castle," his mother replied.

Robb's eyes flicked down to the piece of paper that his father held loosely in one hand, noting the King's seal pressed at the bottom.

"What news from the capitol?" he gestured to the letter.

"Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, is dead," his father stated solemnly.

"Father, I'm sorry," Robb said with sincerity, "I never met Lord Arryn, but I know that he was a father figure to you."

"Aye, and to Robert," Ned sighed heavily, "But there's more."

Robb glanced between his parents, noting their tight, worried, expressions, "I'm guessing that the 'more' is not good news?"

"That depends on which way we want to interpret it," Catelyn said, "Robb, as you know, you have long been promised to the King's eldest, Cassana."

Robb blinked in surprise. Yes, he did know that, but the information was not often brought up. He had never met his intended, and aside from some awkward letters exchanged as children, he had never spoken with her.

"The King also writes," Ned continued before Robb had the chance to speak, "That he, and most of the Royal Court, are soon to be on the road to Witnerfell. For your marriage to the Princess Cassana Baratheon, to take place five days after their arrival."

Robb blinked a few more times in surprise, and felt the frown return to his brow, "But I thought…"

"Yes, we all had been told that the marriage wouldn't take place until the Princess' seventeenth name-day, next year, but it seems that that is no longer the case. You will be married in just over a month," his mother informed him.

Robb's jaw worked, but he said nothing. This news was indeed surprising, and like his parents, he was unsure as to whether interpret good or bad from it. From what he knew of Cassana, she was beautiful, said to be much like her mother, accomplished, ladylike, but also said to have a truly royal temperament. Despite that, she was a stranger, a woman he'd never met, and in just over a month they would be man and wife.

Robb had wondered earlier if he was ready for the responsibilities that would one day come with being Lord of Winterfell, but now he knew for certain that he was not ready for marriage. But what could he do? It was going to happen one day, be it a month or a year, so why were his palms suddenly sweating?

"Robb?" his mother prompted.

He realised that he had missed a question, "Sorry, I was distracted."

She smiled sympathetically, "Nervous?"

"No!" he lied swiftly, "Just… surprised. I suppose this is a royal edict, and we can't change it?"

"No," his father said, "It is not so much the wedding which is the issue, we all knew that it would one day occur. It's the timing."

The pieces suddenly clicked together in Robb's head. The death of the former Hand, the sudden speeding up of his wedding plans so that King and Court would have to travel North. He realised that his wedding was being used as a cover-up excuse for the King's objective. He was going to request Robb's father for the new Hand of the King.

"What are you going to say?" he asked; his nerves about his now very imminent wedding overshadowed by this news.

If his father took the position as the Hand, it would change everything for the North. His father would have to go South, which would leave Robb in charge. It would leave the Stark family without it's Lord. His mother wouldn't go, not with Rickon being so small, and so his father would be in the South alone. Robb knew that the Southerners did not have the same ideals as those held in the North, and that King's Landing was a hotbed for political intrigue, plots, and betrayals.

His father sighed again, and cast a weary glance down at the paper in his hand, "I don't know, son. I don't know."

/*0*/

Cassana glowered at the reflection which stared back at her from the long mirror. The seamstresses who bustled around her had learnt that they should keep absolutely silent during these fittings, save for instructions for Cassana to turn this way or that. Their initial flattery had been met with cold glares and stony silence, they had desisted after two days.

And that had just been back in King's Landing, Cassana's attitude during these fittings had only grown worse the further they travelled. She knew that majority of the camp put it down to the pampered Princess being discomforted by the growing cold as they travelled North, but her family and friends knew the true reason. Well, them and anyone who had been walking by her father's tent last night when they two of them had gotten into rather a large argument.

Cassana had been grateful for her Uncle Jaime's presence in the tent, for he had put a stop to things before they could grow out of hand. Normally Cassana had her mother with her during such meetings to keep at least a minor amount of peace between her and her father, but Cersei had been far too busy doting on Joffrey that night to come with Cassana.

"Well, I would say that you looked like the most beautiful bride-to-be, but that frown does rather spoil the image."

Cassana turned her gaze from the mirror, and felt her expression soften, "Uncle Jaimie! Please, just give me one moment."

"I think that's enough fitting for one evening," she told the seamstresses, "Help me get out of the dress so that I may receive my uncle."

"Yes, Your Highness," they murmured.

Cassana was shifted to behind her dressing screen, and extracted from the complicated garment. She nearly let it fall to the floor in a heap of silk and jewels, but her seamstresses carefully gathered up the fabric and hung it with care. Following this, they dressed her in a far more comfortable gown, and wrapped a cloak around her. She cursed the chilled North, her entire wardrobe from King's Landing would either have to be altered, completely done away with, or she could have to resign herself to a life walking around wrapped in cloaks to keep the cold off her bare skin. She sighed, dreading the impact her change of residence would have on her finery.

When she emerged, she saw that her uncle had sent for some more mulled wine, and was holding two cups of it in his hands. He held one out to Cassana, who took it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm metal.

"I thought you'd gotten rid of the frown," he teased, tapping her forehead.

Cassana took a calming inhale of the warm spiced wine, "I was mourning the loss of beauty. None of the things that are in fashion back home will I be able to wear here, unless I want to freeze."

"And it's not even winter," Jaimie noted mildly.

Cassana shot him a glare over the rim of her cup as she took a sip, and his expression softened.

"I wanted to see how you were after last night," he said, "I know that this must be hard for you, and your father doesn't seem to understand that."

"Huh," Cassana tossed her hair and took a seat in one of her camp chairs, "To him this isn't even about me, it's just a convenient excuse to travel North. It's never been about me. This union was put in place before I could even think for myself, let alone have a say!"

"Cass," Jaimie gave her a sympathetic look, "You're a princess, it's unlikely that you would have had a say, no matter what age it was brought about at. Your mother didn't have a say, and neither did most of the married women at Court. Not even all of the men had a say, if that helps."

"Not really," Cassana took another long sip of wine, "But thank you for trying, Uncle Jaimie."

She sighed, leaning forwards, clasping the cup between her two hands, "It's just… I knew that one day I would have to go North to marry Robb, I've always known that, but now that it's actually happening, I don't' feel prepared."

"That's normal," he assured her, taking the seat opposite.

"I'm scared, Uncle Jaimie," she admitted; looking him in the eye, "I'm scared. I don't want to leave my home, my family, everything that I know behind. I don't know how to live in the North, I don't know how to fit in with the Starks, I don't know how to be married to one. I'm going to miss mother so much, and Tommen, Myrcella, you, all of my friends. I have nothing in the North. Nothing."

"Hey," Jaimie put down his cup and went over to his niece, kneeling before her so that their green eyes were level, "You are your mother's daughter, you are strong, you can do this. I know that, and so does your mother, so does everyone who knows you. You will not have nothing. You are Cassana Baratheon, Princess of Westeros, you will always have that."

Cassana smiled sadly, "Not after I'm married. Back at home, I am a Princess. I am daughter to a King, I and daughter to the strongest woman I know, granddaughter to the greatest politician and general. After I'm married, I'll no longer have that. I won't be a Baratheon, I will be a Stark. I won't be a Princess, I'll only be a Lady. I don't know when I will next see my family again, or indeed if I even will."

"Jaimie, will you leave us?"

Cassana jerked her head around, she had not heard her mother enter her tent, but there she stood. Queen Cersei, holding herself high, the picture of grace and power. Jaimie stood with Cassana, and gave his niece a tight hug. He put a hand on his sister's shoulder comfortingly as he stepped out of the tent, and then it was just Cassana and her mother.

Cassana wondered how much her mother had heard. She'd tried so hard to be strong in front of her mother, to live up to her, and impress her with how capably she was handling her new situation. She hated that her mother now knew that she was afraid, that she wasn't as strong as her. In her mind she tried to get a hold of herself again, and stop the tears that had been just about to come out following her spiel to her uncle.

"Mother, I…" she trailed off, looking down as she clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her.

"Oh, my daughter," Cersei crossed the tent in quick strides, gathering Cassana up into her arms, "My poor daughter. It's okay, it will all be alright."

Cassana held on tight to her mother, knowing that she understood, and managed not to cry.