Chapter 3: Rustic Charm

"Well I hear the Prince is a right royal prick," Robb commented; being very careful with how much he moved his jaw while Tommy shaved him.

"But think of all those Southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick," Theon noted; leering and thrusting his pelvis a couple of times.

Robb ignored his comment, wiping the remains of shaving foam from his face as he stood up. He inspected himself briefly in the mirror, and was satisfied with his new appearance. His hair had been cut just a little so that his curls didn't resembled a tangled bush on his head, and his clean-shaven face made him appear younger than his eighteen years. He sighed. Theon and Jon were only being tidied up for the King's arrival, so that the household of Winterfell made a good show. Robb on the other hand, was also being tidied up for his wedding.

Five days. Even when the letter had arrived it had still felt as if he had all the time in the world, but now it was only a matter of days, less than a week in fact. Only the smallest of details remained to be arranged, and Robb was thankful that his mother was more than capable of handling it so that he didn't have to be involved. Thus far the only thing he had done was approve the feat menu and stand still for his fittings.

"What about the Southern girl Robb's going to get to-"

"Shave him good, Tommy," Robb talked over Theon, shoving his brother towards the chair, "He's never met a girl he liked better than his own hair."

Jon shot him an annoyed look, but sat grudgingly still as Tommy began to trim at his long hair back down to a more manageable length. Robb's avoidance didn't go unnoticed by Theon, who pounced on it the way he did any way he could tease his friend.

"Defensive of your lady already, Robb?"

"She's not a 'Southern girl', she's the Princess," Robb corrected; leaning casually against one of the wooden poles, "Show some respect."

"What do we think, Jon? Do we think he's in love already?" Theon snickered.

"I hear she's quite pretty," Jon commented, "Apparently takes after her mother."

"Ooooh, the Queen," Theon whistled appreciatively, "Now there's a woman most men in the Seven Kingdoms would kill for."

"Are you just trying to get your leecherousness out of your system before the Court arrives?" Robb inquired, "Because if so, then I'm sorry friend, but I don't think it will ever work."

"Alright then, I'll be serious," Theon said; a comment which earned him a snort of laughter from both brothers.

"Watch carefully, Tommy, you're about to witness a miracle," Robb chuckled.

"What do you think about her?" Theon asked, "Your bride-to-be?"

"Think?" Robb scratched absently at the back of his neck, "Should I think anything about her?"

"You two have been engaged since you were children," Theon pointed out, "But you barely mention her, or anything to do with her."

Robb shrugged, "Not much to mention, I don't know her, never met her."

"He wrote to her," Jon said.

Robb shot his brother a glare. Thankfully those were the last words Jon would speak for a while, unless he wanted Tommy's razor to slip, but they had been damned annoying ones. Robb had managed to keep that secret from Theon, and had wanted to continue keeping it, knowing that his childhood friend would tease him.

"Oh really?" Theon arched his eyebrows at Robb, his trademark smirk in place.

"When we were children," Robb said defensively, "It was a long time ago, and not many letters, they might as well have not happened."

"If you say so," Theon seemingly accepted this, but Robb knew his friend better. He hadn't heard the last of those blasted letters…

"How does it feel about to marry a total stranger?" he asked.

Robb shrugged yet again, "Not that strange. My parents were strangers once, I'm sure so were yours, Theon. It's normal, for us."

"She arrives today, how curious are you?"

Robb thought for a moment before answering, "Very. All I know about her are the rumours from the capitol. I know she's pretty, but I want to know more. I want to know what she's like."

"You know she's pretty, surely that's enough," Theon said; grinning, "I'd take that and think myself a lucky man."

"Doesn't she have a temper? That's all I ever hear about," Jon commented; finally free from his shearing and shaving.

"Doesn't every woman?" Robb shot back.

"What's your plan?" Theon asked.

"My plan?" Robb laughed.

"Your plan," his friend affirmed, "What are you going to do about her?"

Robb considered carefully. He considered his new suit of finery which was hanging in his wardrobe, next to his direwolf emblazoned cloak, waiting for the wedding. He considered the bracelet he had commissioned from the castle jeweller. He considered the extra wardrobe and dressing screen which had already been moved to his rooms. And then he smiled, oh yes, he had a plan.

"Oh dear, that poor girl," Jon said, "That's Robb's plotting smile."

The smile widened to a grin as he tugged his shirt back over his head, "I'm going to charm her."

"Charm her? Charm her? That's your plan?" Theon looked him over, "Well damn you Stark, it might even work!" then he smiled slyly, "If you had any charms to charm with."

Robb launched himself in a tackle towards his friend, bearing Theon to the cold ground and wrestling him to stay down. It wasn't long before Jon joined in, and the three boys were rolling around as if nothing had happened to make them grow up over the years.

Perhaps nothing had, but with the King's arrival, Robb's wedding, and the coming of Winter; something was definitely going to.

/*0*/

"No, you can't wear it! And stop asking," Cassana snapped.

Myrcella drew her hand back with a pout, and even looked on the verge of tears. She so rarely had Cassana get angry at her, that when it did happen, she was never sure how to react to it. Cassana normally felt guilty right after displaying anger towards one of her younger siblings, but today she was really in no mood for it, and ignored the pointed look that her mother gave her.

"Here, Myrcella, would you like another apple sweet?"

Corrina Brax, Cassana's closest friend and lady-in-waiting, proffered a tin out towards the little Princess. Myrcella smiled sweetly, and leaned forwards eagerly, as did Tommen.

"The amount of those sweets you two have eaten, you won't fit into your feast clothes tonight," Cassana jibed unnecessarily.

Both her siblings drew back their hands guiltily, sharing a look of both surprise and upset at their sister's accusations. Even Corrina gave Cassana a slightly shocked glance at her prickliness, and as if in defiance, took a sweet herself.

Not that Cassana cared. She looked away from the shuffling citizens of the huge wheelhouse, and peeked through the curtains to look at the Northern countryside. They had been deep in the North for a couple of days now, and it had only continued to grow colder since they had crossed the Neck. The countryside was bleak to Cassana's eye. She was used to the rolling greens, flowered trees, and fragrant flowers of the South. Here in the North there only seemed to be straggly bushes, skeletal trees, and grey clouds.

This was to be her home? She could almost feel the life draining out of her just by looking at it. How was she, a Princess of Westeros, expected to live in this cold seclusion? She fiddled absently with the pendant now hanging around her neck, her thoughts growing bitterer as the ride continued.

She had already been put in a foul mood by the morning's early start, her father had wanted to reach Winterfell in good time, and he'd be damned if it meant the discomfort of others to do so. They had been on the road since dawn, and while Cassana had attempted to get some sleep, the constant rocking and chatter within the wheelhouse made that impossible.

"If you could all please give my daughter and I some space."

Cassana heard the rustle of silk as ladies shifted to further corners of the wheelhouse at her mother's request phrased command. The level of whispering went up, but she knew that it was all just a ruse, and that every single woman would be attempting to listen to what transpired between mother and daughter.

"What has gotten into you?" Cersei demanded.

She felt her mother take the seat opposite her, but still did not turn her glace away from the outside world. What was there to do in Winterfell? Were there beautiful gardens? Entertainers? Markets? Anything? Or was it all going to be as bland as the land it sat in?

"Cassana, look at me."

Not able to ignore a direct command from her mother, Cassana turned her face, and was surprised to see that her mother appeared to be genuinely put out with her.

"What has gotten into you?" she repeated.

Cassana shrugged, "I'm tired, I haven't been sleeping well, and today was an early start."

"We're all tired, Cassana, but that is not an excuse for getting angry at your sister for no reason," Cersei reprimanded.

"Myrcella always wants to touch or wear my things," she said sulkily, "It was the hundredth time she'd asked."

Her mother arched an eyebrow, "And is that why you got angry so quickly?"

"She was being annoying!" Cassana defended; keeping her voice low so as to avoid the eavesdroppers.

"No, you're just on edge," her mother corrected, "You are a Royal Princess, Cassana, that was not a dignified way to act in front of the ladies of the Court."

"Oh, because you've never gotten publically angry before? Or Joffrey, the precious golden son, he's never done worse had he?" Cassana shot back. It was a cheap shot, and her mother's green eyes grew steely.

"I know that you are angry with the situation, but it is what it is," her mother said firmly, "I've tried changing it since you were born, but nothing has worked."

"But-"

"I know that you don't want to be North, and I don't blame you," Cersei interrupted, "This land is as inhospitable as the people who inhabit it. But you are my daughter, and you are strong. Yes, this marriage is not what you want, my marriage turned out to not be what I wanted either. But you will not sulk about it like a little girl. You are a beautiful and intelligent woman, and that means you will find a way to make your marriage work in a way that makes you comfortable, if not happy."

Cassana felt like she'd been slapped, her mother had never reprimanded her like that. Well, she supposed it was half reprimand, half compliment in a way, but parts of it still stung. She was sixteen, how could her mother call her a child? That was unfair!

"Winterfell ahead!"

The cry was echoed down by the soldiers in the column, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold went down Cassana's spine. Her anger was washed out of her, replaced by apprehension. They were here, they were now minutes away, there would be no going back now. She was trapped.

She had been trapped for a long time. It finally dawned on her that this really would have happened, no matter what, she would have to have gone through this. There would have been no changing the situation, it was just the time that had changed. This had always been her path, and she suddenly felt frantic, as if her life was no longer in her control, as if it had never been in her control.

But then her mother's words played over in her mind again, and again. She looked at her mother, and saw a woman who was not in a happy or loving marriage, but she had made what she could from it. She had survived, persevered, and she had become the woman Cassana so admired.

She realised that this whole time, she had been worried about all the things she would be leaving behind, and how much her life would change, how she would no longer be happy. But happiness was not going to be the key issue in a marriage, it never was for people like her. The issue was what you gained from it, and until now, Cassana hadn't seen that she would gain anything. She still didn't know that she would, but she could find out.

It would give her something to do at least.

"Do you understand?"

Her mother was looking at her intently, for a moment Cassana didn't feel as if she could meet her gaze. But then she raised her green eyes up to meet hers, and reached out her hand to grasp her mother's tightly.

"I understand."