A/N:

So sorry for the delay! I was away all last week and needed to play catch-up at school. But better late than never? Right? I'm sure George uses that excuse all the time.

Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers from my last post! :

Darksnider05 (things will change, I promise. I'm of the mindset that there's only some things one person can do in such a messy cast of people), StarkStruck11 (There are more interesting things to talk about than caravans, haha. Thanks!), Guest (Thanks so much! I'm so glad you're interested in her as a Baratheon too. That's sort of what's interesting me as well :D), MorraHadon (Wow, thanks so much for your review! I'm happy you think I'm doing a good job with Cassana and the actual GoT crew! Thanks! also, I am actually still torn though people tend to be sided towards Jaime. Maybe it's because of later chapters...), and StephyCoCo89(Thanks! I'm glad you don't think she's a Mary Sue!).

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or really even the name Cassana.

There was an abundance of events held at the Red Keep and she thought maybe this was what Robb meant when he said that this place must have been more interesting than the North. Usually Cass avoided half of them if she could—being either 'sick' or too busy doing other things to socialize with nobles and lords and such. Cersei had warned her that she'd become an outcast, a hermit, but the public still did not seem too surprised when she showed up. They actually seemed to like her just fine. She and Renly, to her constant shock, were considered well liked and attractive. They were siblings to a king that freed the people from a tyrant, and that had won them so unflinching love.

This time it was a tournament held in Ned's honor. It had been a while since Ned became Robert's Hand, but she supposed celebrating it now was better than never.

It was more the necessity than the want that she appear for the actual event since she had skipped too many previous engagements. The Mountain was setting up to joust, and she was seated by Renly in one of the main booths by the Starks. Renly was on the edge of his seat, strangely nervous. He did not much care for fighting or jousting or any of this, but his eyes were trained on this match in particular.

"Brother, you may want to calm down." She placed a hand on his arm, and Renly shot back. He is so strange sometimes.

She watched the Mountain's opponent get ready-this Knight of the Flowers, Loras Tyrell from Highgarden. She had seen Ser Loras before—a good tourney knight, though she thought not much of him besides that he was pretty. He was Renly's squire in the past so maybe that called for her brother's behavior. Or maybe not. Not completely.

Ser Loras finished mounting his horse and made a lap across the booths, holding a red rose to give to a maiden.

Cass stiffened as the rose was past to her. Ser Loras never lifted his helmet, and she took it, understanding something with the look he gave to the man next to her. She felt uncomfortable, fidgety, and she no longer wanted to watch this match. Her foggy mind was clearing, and she could not sit next to her brother much longer, afraid what she might say. Instead, she slid the rose onto his leg. "I think this was meant for you."

"Cass—what..."

"I do not ask. You do not say. Easy, Renly. I am your sister. I know what is expected of you, what Robert would think, but if you..." Cass blushed. This was not what she had expected. There were too many people about. But the interaction was undeniable. She may have been sheltered in the Red Keep, but that did not make her naïve. Renly never took a maiden to his room, but he had taken Ser Loras on several occasions before. She did not know why she failed to question that until now. "I'm allergic to roses anyway. Ser Loras was silly to forget that." She turned on her heel, not wanting to embarrass him further.

There were still more competitions, and Cassana excused her handmaidens to watch whatever events were going on while she wandered the grounds. No one thought to bother her, and Cass knew there were Baratheon bannermen and guards scattered throughout. Her eyes looked at the array of tents until she saw the red and gold sigil of the Lannisters.

"Ser Jaime?"

He was getting ready for some event. Squires and servants were running about inside, polishing his armor and sorting through his things as Jaime was stretching in a corner. "Whoever they are, tell them to get the fuck out. I need to prepare."

A squire approached her and tried to shove her out, but she dismissed him and walked up to Jaime. "I just wanted to wish you luck but if you wish..."

"Cass." Jaime stood up from his stretches and grabbed her shoulders. "Where are your guards?"

"What guards?" She raised an eyebrow, "Is everything alright? No one's planning a Baratheon coup, are they?" She half-laughed.

Jaime smirked, but didn't answer her directly. "Are you going to watch me, Lady Cassana?" He seemed to realize himself and stepped back from her, gesturing for a servant to start handing him his armor.

"What's the point? You'll win anyway."

"It's always nice to have family support."

"Your sister will be there." She paused. "And my brother too if you are counting us Baratheons as family now. That's a first. What poor fool are you going against?"

Jaime's smirk only grew. "Some green boy by the God's Eye, I think. His name is not worth noting."

"Now, be nice."

He made no promise of that. "Did you come for something else, Cass?"

Did she? She didn't know. It was not like her, really, to visit Jaime before an event. Especially because luck was completely unneeded in his situation most times. "We haven't had our meetings in a while." She could count the number of times they had trained on one hand since they left Winterfell.

"I've been busy."

"I've figured."

"Do you need to anymore?" Jaime held out his arms, letting his squire armor him. "Train? I mean, if you are to marry soon as expected, then your husband's bannermen will watch your step and all this training will be worthless."

Cass's voice lowered. "I do not think so."

"Well, I do."

"Perhaps my husband will not have bannermen at all. Perhaps he will be one."

He clicked his tongue. "I don't talk to you to hear bullshit, Cassana."

"Fine then." She felt hurt for whatever reason. They weren't exactly fighting—not at all—but she was hurt all the same, as if they just had a heated argument. When she exited the tent, there was a rush of people surrounding one of the arenas. Lady Cassana ran over and she could feel a man behind her too, looking at the scene.

"What has happened?" She swallowed the bile back down her throat, the sight of the decapitated horse head spurring food chunks.

"These things happen." Jaime's voice sounded behind her, and Cass turned.

"He would have killed Ser Loras." Cass turned to Jaime. "Your father's beast would have cut him down."

"Shame." Jaime's eyes went to the Mountain's. "Knights are not wooers and bards, my lady." He fixed his glove. "We are all killers and murderers. You'd do well to remember that."

Cass knew he was referring to himself, about the lives Jaime had claimed. She had only really known about the Mad King, but Cass wondered who else Jaime was thinking of at that moment.

It was later in the tourney when there was another death—Ser Hugh, Jon Arryn's old squire. She did not seek out Jaime for his opinion on the matter. Something told Cass she would not have approved of it. Instead though, another figure approached her on the grounds. "Lord Stark." The lady manners took over and she lowered her head to the Hand.

"May I speak with you, Lady Cassana?"

"Yes, of course."

"In your chambers?"

She blinked, "I'm sorry?"

"On my honor, I swear I just wish to talk to you." Ned seemed to understand his words at that moment. "I...I do not feel my chambers would be appropriate for this conversation."

"Of course." She had no desire to watch the rest of the tourney now anyway. "Your honor I hold above all others, Lord Stark. Please follow me."

They walked to the Red Keep and up to Cassana's chambers. The halls were luckily empty, so no one saw her lead a man alone to her room. Her chambers were covered with tapestries and a small area for her to read and her handmaiden to sit. This was where she offered a seat to Ned before sitting herself. "I'm assuming this is of a sensitive matter."

"Yes. I am finding my allies here are thinning, Lady Cassana. I am unaccustomed to the games of this keep."

"I should have warned you." She felt bad. She knew Ned was a grown man—a smart man—but this was not his forte. How he acted with the small council, with Cersei, she wondered how he was not more a mess. "The people here are after their own goals and ambitions. I may have been the same, to be honest, if I did not know my ambitions were predetermined for me by Robert." She tried to lighten the situation, but Ned was too on edge. There would be no more jokes from her.

"My wife insists I trust in Littlefinger. He was a childhood friend."

"That you know nothing of now." She did not like Lord Baelish's ambition. Or the smile he had around Lord Stark. Or his past relationship with Catelyn Tully. "There is much we do not know about him which worries me. I would not put all your trust in him."

"Who would you then?"
"Yourself." She said blatantly. "Yourself and your bannermen and your daughters, Lord Stark. Your wife, I'm sure, means well. But Petyr Baelish is not the small boy he was in Riverrun. He did not get here through his treasury skills alone." Cass poured herself a glass of water and handed one to Ned. "There is something deeper on your mind." She saw it easily now. "There are no listeners in my walls. I pray." She had gassed them out with lies once five years ago when she was thirteen. Whatever spiders hidden in her walls made fools of themselves in court and hopefully never sprung back. "You can trust me with this secret."

"I can?"

He seemed doubtful, which was good, what Cass wanted, but she pulled the chain out from her bodice, revealing Robb's ring. "Your son does, Lord Stark. I do not...mean to use this as a tool, but as good faith. I..." She hesitated. "I see the good in your family, the values that the Red Keep have been missing or have exploited. It is...a bond missing from my own, and I do not wish for you to meet a similar fate as Jon Arryn or countless others."

"You are suspicious then? Of Jon Arryn's death?"

She was at first. It was random and fast, and Maester Pycelle did not seem that affected by his failure to revive him. "He was...asking a lot of questions and then died. That is never a good sign."

Ned asked, "May I?" and touched the chain on Cass's neck when she nodded. He smiled sadly at the dire wolf engraving and set the ring down. "I received a letter from Lysa Arryn before I left Winterfell."

Cass let the words sink in. "Jon Arryn's wife."

"Yes. She has locked herself in the Vale for she fears for her life and her son's as well. She...she implicated that Jon Arryn was killed."

It didn't surprise her nearly as much as it should have. "By who?"

"The Lannisters."

Her mind faltered because she knew what that meant. Cersei was powerful. Jaime was her friend. And Tyrion...no, she could not believe Tyrion would create such a scheme on such a good man. A bad man, yes, but not Jon Arryn. "That...that is a large implication."

"I did not understand why at first, but I'm beginning to. The Lannisters..."

"Want power, yes, but they have it with Cersei." She shook her head, "Where else can their ambition expand?"

"I do not believe this is about ambition. Not completely, Lady Cassana. You and I both know your brother has not always been loyal to his wife."

She nodded. That was well known.

"Jon Arryn was tracking his bastards."

Why? Cass scowled and sipped more water. This was too much intrigue for her, far too much for Ned. He was treading somewhere dangerous, and the questions floating through Cass' head fell back. Lord Arryn was asking about my family. We...we all... "He said we all have black hair. My eyes...they aren't completely Baratheon, but they're my mother's he said. I looked like my mother."

Ned narrowed his eyes, "I'm sorry?"

"Jon Arryn." Cass stood. "He said...the Baratheons always have black hair, pretty black hair. I was wearing an ivory dress...he said the contrast was stunning, something only a Baratheon could pull off truly with our dark features. The eyes are rare...but plausible, he said. Other colors besides blue were not." Joffrey does not have black hair. Joffrey has green eyes. She had not seen it. There was so much of Cersei in him—gods, she remembered Cersei giving birth to him—but men were not the only beings on this earth that were unfaithful, were they? All of them—all of Robert's legitimate children—were blonde. "The Seven...Oh gods. You..." She fell back down, Ned catching her arms and placing her back in the chair. "What you are...what you are implying..."

"Could get me killed."

"It will, Ned." She dropped formalities. "What do you plan to do with this information?"

"I need to establish it first. There are some Storms in this city. I can..."

"And then what? Tell Robert? He will kill her. He will. He might even kill the children which I will not allow. You know Robert and his temper. And then Tywin Lannister will be at our back!" She spoke at a harsh whisper. "You cannot tell Robert." Her head was spinning. She...she had to hide this. "You can't, Ned."

"Should I then let it rest?" He was arguing with her, softly, un-harshly, but still he did not agree. "I cannot do that, Lady Cassana. Joffrey is not the true heir."

"But this will be war." She weighed the options quickly. "I pick an untrue king over war any day."

"You are a child of the summer. You do not understand."

"No, I do not." Cass felt sick. She was unused to war, but she liked it that way. "This will destroy him." She paused, thoughts still running. "Who do you think the father is? Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen's?"

Ned shook his head. "I do not know. But I will not keep this a secret, Lady Cassana. Not for long." Ned Stark bowed and left her room. Cass crumpled to the floor.

She didn't show up for dinner that night. Nor did she attend breakfast the following day or court the rest of the week, and she was going to skip another breakfast too if Jaime hadn't knocked on her door, thrown her a roll, and wiped the mud off his boots and onto the floor. Cass caught the roll and took a bite. "Thank you."

"I suppose you had every intention of starving yourself for some reason or another. Is this your revenge for our stopped training?"
It wasn't. She just couldn't bear to see her nephews or niece. Cass had been eating, by herself of course and minimally for fear that if she went down to eat with her family, she would stare at them and look for the Baratheon—any sign of the stag in them. And Cass had an overwhelming feeling that she would be left disappointed. "I haven't felt well."

"Poor girl. We only have a Grand Maester at your every beck and call. Do you want me to call Pycelle for you?" The last line, though holding a bit of sarcasm, was sincere. She stared him down to see, watching his green eyes never twinkle or shine in that way that said Jaime was lying to her.

She shook her head and continued to eat the bread. She felt uncomfortable around him. He was a Lannister after all. And Ned Stark did not trust them. And you trust Ned Stark over Jaime? They both had reputations, but Stark's was of honor and loyalty. She had no reason not to trust Ned Stark. But she had known Jaime longer, trained and talked and laughed with Jaime Lannister. Perhaps he is not involved with Jon Arryn. The old Hand did not wake up with a sword in his back after all. If anything, Cass thought, Jon Arryn was poisoned. And poison was a woman's weapon. I'll have to choke someone then if I am ever to kill someone. She hated the thought.

Jaime didn't leave like she expected him to soon after. He sat in a chair and watched as Cass ate her roll. She was starving. Her embarrassment over seeing her brother with his wife made her forget for a while, but the smell of the breaking bread—freshly baked and cracking—filled her nostrils and the air around her. "No one is worried, are they?"

"You have not been missing too long. Not any longer than when you simply decide to avoid court for whatever reason. It's been dull. " Jaime was still on her chair. "You were talking to Ned Stark the other day."

She froze on the chair but continued to eat her piece of bread. Jaime wasn't asking her a question. "Yes."

"What about?"
Cass flinched but did not let the question affect her speech. "Is that really your concern, Ser Jaime? You are Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and yet you trouble yourself with insignificant trivialities such as who holds my company."

"I certainly hope Ned Stark does not hold your company." Jaime sniffed. "Nor do I find the matter trivial, Cass. Do not speak to me like a stranger."

"I only say it is trivial for you said it yourself." She hesitated, gathering time by taking a huge bite of the bread and chewing it slowly before swallowing, She readjusted her green skirt—she always hated green—and said, "Ned Stark made a proposal to me. Just as a thought. He had not discussed it with Robert yet, but we had been talking about it since Winterfell."

Jaime cracked his knuckles, eyes suddenly down on the floor and not on her. "And what type of proposal?"

"Marriage of course. There are none others made that involves a woman's decision." She said mockingly. "To his eldest son, Robb Stark. It would be a good match."

He was staring at the chain around her neck, "If you would want to associate with those damned wolves it'd be." Jaime practically growled from his chair.

"Jaime, the Starks are one of the great houses..."
"And what do they rule over? Snow and shit and wildling invasions. Do not talk to me about the nature of Starks again, Cass. I rather you marry the Martells as your previous promise suggested. At least then I could bear to look at you still."

The magnitude of his anger took her off guard. Jaime had shown nothing but apathy for the Starks while they were in Winterfell, and even here in King's Landing, he and Ned, although not the best of friends, at least appeared civil to each other in her company. "I think you are over reacting, Jaime. Ned Stark has done nothing here that warrants your vehemence."

"Perhaps Ned Stark has not but his wife is quite a different story. No matter. Let us not discuss this in any fashion longer." He stopped talking completely.

"No Jaime. I want to discuss it. Tell me."
This could have been a key. She could figure out why Ned Stark would implicate the Lannisters like that if he had some sort of vendetta or bad history of anything. Cass, in some odd way, wanted to discredit the Hand. But nothing in his past actions or voice led her to anything like that. "That bitch has accused my brother of trying to murder their son."

What? That was not what she had been expecting.

"...how?"

"The dagger they found on the assassin was apparently Tyrion's. Impossible. Everyone knows that Tyrion does not have the stomach for something like murdering a child."

"Nor would he be daft enough to give the man he hired a weapon from his own collection." Cass shook her head. "No, this must be a mistake. I will talk to Ned."

"Do not bother. I have talked to him already."

Her blood ran cold. "Jaime, what did you do?"
"Simply reminded Ned Stark where he is and what he should not get his nose into."
"You're mad." She stood up. "Is he alright? Do not tell me that you have..."

"He's alive. That's all you need to know. Oh, and maybe that he resigned from being the Hand two days ago."

What? She should not have hidden in her room. She should have been out there, watching him and not hiding from her brother's shame. Why didn't Ned come to me to talk about this? No, it was not his fault. She didn't want to hear it. She acted like she didn't want to be involved. "Robert will never let that happen." Though she wished he would. Maybe he would be best outside of this godforsaken keep. "Is he still here?"

"Yes, Cass, but..."

"I need to speak with him. I need to find out how he is."

"Gods, Cass! Have you been listening to me?"
Jaime never yelled at her, not with sincerity. Sweat was etched in his face, and she was frightened of him. She saw the face, the scream, the fury that the men saw when he was in battle. The sword crashing towards their heads as blood and pus dripped out of their friends' skulls. The Kingslayer was here, and Cass inched away. "Jaime, I'm..."

"Damn it." He stood up from the chair and walked from her. "Damn it, Cass. Why are you being like this? Why are you siding with the wolf? Don't tell me Robb Stark has already dragged you to his bed and fucked you."

She slapped him, uncaring that this was the Kingslayer and he could easily overpower her, which he did. Jaime grabbed her wrist and dragged her closer, turning her around so that he held her back. Cass could escape. She had been trained to, but she didn't struggle for Jaime's force was half what he used to train her with. He didn't mean harm. He just...he just held her for awhile before letting go, stared at her, and stepped closer, warm breath hitting her face and making her close her eyes in confusion. She hated him right now, for even suggesting that she would do such a thing and ruin herself so easily. But his words seemed to anger him more than it did her, and the red from his face was fading.

"Jaime, please calm down." She removed her hand and touched his cheek. He leaned into it, and Cass bit her lip before backing away. "You're going to get Tyrion back, aren't you?"

"He's my brother, Cass. I have to go back for him. You understand."

She didn't. She was not sure she would do the same for all of her brothers, which was unfortunate. "Let me come with you."

"What?" He smiled and gripped both her hands again, this time with a different, lighter pressure. "Don't joke with me."

"I am not. Let me talk with Catelyn and vouch for your brother."
"You have already hidden from the Red Keep for too long. And your brother does not like me."

She could not deny that. "Do not start a war."

He was stroking her hand. She didn't...she didn't know what to think of it. "If a war comes from this, it would not be me who started it."

"Catelyn will release Tyrion." She felt bad for Tyrion, but at the same time... "Jaime, why would someone try to kill Bran Stark? He is just a boy."

"Maybe for the same reason Robert wanted an assassin on that Targaryen girl." He inched away from her at that. "I'm leaving soon, Cass."

She kissed him on the cheek. It was strange, that action. She had never done it before, but right then, it seemed appropriate, called for in her head. Cass had no idea whether she should be worried or not. "And you'll be back soon too."

A/N:

Crap is going to hit the fan. Gross.

Also, struggled with the editing process about the tournament, so sorry if I got any details wrong. I don't remember Jaime competing...but why wouldn't he? I didn't remember or could find things, so this what happened.

Thanks for reading!