A/N:

So...it's been a while. Where was I?

Disclaimer: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE HIATUS. In that time, I did not get the rights to this, so this continues to be a very old AND POORLY UPDATED fanfiction. Once again, SO SORRY.

There was no sleep that night. Between the rats and the worry and the stress, Cass would only close her eyes for a second before something dragged her to consciousness again. Jaime must have heard the stories. He must have known the danger, the threat that lay before him. There was a reason why he was called the Red Viper. And Jaime slays kings. Oberyn is no more than a prince. She tried to hold on to the thought, but the scratching cry of Joffrey Baratheon repeated itself in her brain. Poison is no way to die. She squirmed. Jaime does not deserve that.

She did not want to be let out of the cell. They would be bringing her to the trial, to watch her fate play out by two men with sword and spear. And when the gold cloak came to her, she cringed to the back, eyes heavy and exhausted but mind completely aware. "No, not yet. It can't be morning already."

"The sun has been out for hours, my lady." The gold cloak held the shackles in his hand limply. "Lady Cassana, may I speak boldly?"

The question surprised her. "Please do. A gold cloak should be bold."

He blushed again at that. "I…met you 3 years ago in court. You were sitting with your brothers by the Iron Throne when I saw you."

"How different I must appear now." Cass touched her hair, embarrassed and flustered.

The young man nodded. "I came from Bronzegate, my lady. I thought the Stormlands were honored to have someone like you."

Her head fell. "I must be a disappointment," she said softly, feeling her own words. "I should have been better than this."

"No, I am sorry this has happened to you."

Don't apologize. That was what she wanted to say. I have done this to myself. I played and I lost. Oberyn held her fate in his pointed spear, and he held Jaime's fate too. "May I ask something of you before you take me up?"

"I wish I could help you, Lady Cassana, but the king…"

"I'm not asking for my freedom." Though she wondered if she could have gotten that if she were better at this particular game. "I need you to take me to a man…before I die. I need to see him."

He unlocked the door to the cell and brought out the shackles. "What is his name?"

He was towards the very back, past the wailing prisoners and into the deepest pit. The air was so cold this low and dark, and Cass rubbed her arms through her chains. Her breath was shallow, rushed as she saw the bars and the body inside. There were drips of blood on the ground, and Cass felt her eyes swell. "They tortured you."

Robb was there, somewhere in the shadows of his cell. She walked forward slowly, the weight of metal and exhaustion slowing her down. The gold cloak led her to the front. "Let me inside."

The young man hesitated. "My lady…"

"If I am your lady you will let me inside." She had lost patience. "Gods, Robb…" She turned to her guard. "Please, ser. I know you have done much for me already, but I…I have to…"

The gold cloak shook his head, and Cassana banged on the bars, frustrated. The noise stirred the body on the floor inside the cell, and she bit her lip. What did they do to you? What did they want from you Robb?

"I'm sorry." She had to take note of her breathing. The action was starting to get difficult. "I'm so sorry, Robb. I…I should have never ran from you." You don't deserve this.

She should have learned a long time ago that life wasn't fair, that the tales she was told as a child were myths and lies. Heroes were slaughtered and villains were rewarded. The good were enslaved while the evil reined with fire.

"I've been playing badly." Cass let her hand slip from the bar and followed the gold cloak to the surface.

The sun blazed over the arena, but the sweeping wind kept her shivering. That and the beads of sweat racing down her neck and spine. The grounds were swarming with people of all wealth and lives—ladies and handmaidens, beggars and knights. They moved aside as Cass was dragged forward and chained in front of Tommen and Cersei.

They were yelling at her—calling her a whore or a hero she wasn't certain. Cass held her hands up and curtsied as attention strayed to her. Cersei nearly spat from the stage above her. "This traitor wishes to prove her innocence by combat. Prince Oberyn, if I could but…"

The Red Viper raised a hand, and Cersei bit back whatever she was about to say. "I believe this girl did nothing to your son, my queen. The gods will prove her innocence to you and this court."

What gods? Cass turned to Lord Tywin on the raised platform, sitting next to King Tommen and his daughter. Tyrion was by his brother's side in the dirt. He worries for him as I do. "May I speak to the champion, your grace?"

Oberyn turned to her, light in armor and heavy spear in hand. But Cass walked, handcuffed, to Ser Jaime. The crowd whispered heavily at her approach, and Lord Tywin was shouting something, but Cass ignored it. She leaned in his ear. "He's a snake, Jaime. He's poisonous."

"I've heard the same stories as you, Cass." Jaime leaned back. "You should leave before people get the wrong impression."

"Let them. I should kiss you now." Cass swallowed, wondering why she wouldn't. Her manacles rattled as she twisted her hands. "Don't you dare die for me. Do you understand me? Don't you dare let him kill you."

She turned away before Jaime could reply. Tyrion stared at her blankly, but Cass had nothing more to say to either Lannister. And out of courtesy, she stopped in front of Oberyn Martell. The prince seemed to be staring at his foe only, yet a faint smile appeared when Cass approached him from across the dirt pit. "Am I killing your lover today, Lady Cassana?"

She blushed. The gold cloak by her side seemed to have the same reaction as her. Her nose sniffed. "Having you been drinking, my champion?"

He nodded. "I always drink before a fight."

Cass watched Jaime from across the arena. His brother had left to join his father on the platformed ledge, and some squire was tightening his armor. "Jaime doesn't drink."

"No, the golden son of Lord Tywin wouldn't. Not for something important like this. Perhaps at a wedding or…"

"He's not the golden son." She stared at the Kingslayer before turning harshly to Oberyn. "You want to kill him to get revenge? But why not cut off the head itself? Gregor Clegane was the one who raped and killed your sister."

The grip on his spear seemed to tighten. "We've discussed it, little princess. The Mountain is nothing more than a wild dog without a leash. Someone had to release him, and I'm about to kill that someone's oldest son."

She was dragged away before she could form any sort of response. They had her stand in a corner where she could view the entire battle—close enough to see the blood but far enough not to get cut. The dirt was billowing from the ground as the two champions steadied themselves. The edge of Jaime's white cloak was muddied, stained, and Oberyn's sun encrusted armor was shining bronze red. There was some fanfare. Tommen said a few words but they fell on deaf ears. Her brain was humming with white noise, with the overwhelming thump, thump of her own heartbeat.

The two champions faced each other, weapons hanging loosely at their sides, feet digging into the dirt of the arena. Jaime…he didn't look like himself before a tournament. His face was grim and pale, and he looked so, so incredibly tired. She looked to Oberyn and saw him move his hand over the handle of spear, a glistening sheen of oil apparent in the hot sun.

Don't die for me. Her lip was bleeding. She tasted the familiar sensation of copper and blood, and her knees shook. He would though. He said he would kill for you. Wouldn't that…

"You have to stop this." Her voice was soft against the wind, against the roaring crowds. She picked up volume and rattled her chains. "Stop this now."

The gold cloak stared but didn't move or speak. Cassana became anxious and shook the metal around her wrists even more until it scraped her skin. She shouted, "STOP! I DID IT!"

That stirred the gold cloak to at least look at her. The man grabbed her hands lightly trying to calm her down. "My lady…please calm down. The fight is…"

"I'm really sorry about this." She ducked and dove for his legs, tackling the guard to the ground and then moving her arms to a full-frontal mount. She dug her knees into his armpits and placed her chains on his neck, applying just enough pressure to have the guard panic but not asphyxiate. There were shouts from the dais, the Queen Regent shouting, "Restrain her! Restrain her!" And then a man was running towards her, grabbing her waist and dragging her to the front of the arena. She didn't resist. She got what she wanted. She had stopped this, and Oberyn looked furious behind her. Jaime held her. His heat radiated from his body hotter than the late summer sun, and he cursed at her as he walked her up to his sister. "Fuck you. Fuck you, Cass."

"How dare you. How goddamn selfish," she spat, voice quiet and dry. Cass tasted dust as she was shuffled and pushed forward. Her nephew was red and looking around in confusion. The shouts from the crowds were hysterical and the gold cloaks doubled around the new king. The little boy was shouting something, but Cass couldn't hear him, and whatever he was trying to say wasn't important to her. "I did it!" She screamed it, and Jaime's hand moved to cover her mouth. But she saw the Queen Regent turn to her, and that was enough. She saw the anger and rage in Cersei's eyes, and that was all she wanted.

Oberyn Martell did not visit her in her cell. She had no visitors or guards or anyone to talk to for days, and that was torture. She was stuck with her own thoughts whipping and rolling through her head, and they mostly focused on how she would die.

There was no more question of would she or not . She knew that, she accepted that, but she couldn't have risked Jaime's life and have just continued. He had a chance here, through this war and hell. She, however, had lost. Cass should have realized that a long time ago. The stones of the cell were digging into the thinning grey robe she wore. She was freezing. They had placed her lower, where the cells were darker and the screams were viler and cutting. I'm sorry, Robb. I'm sorry. Her trial would have never saved him. Even if she had stayed, let Jaime die, he would be stuck there. He would die too. They would probably have her watch. They probably still will.

She admitted her guilt. Cersei had made Jaime bring her to the throne room, made her crawl onto her knees and shout it. She did. She did with fervor. "I murdered your son, you cunt. I murdered him like you murdered my brother."

There was no more strategy or coyness. There was no need to play nice or even civil. She was on her deathbed. Cass decided to lay down on the stones. Strangely, she felt calm, almost free. She wondered if Ned Stark felt this way as he awaited his execution, but she realized he had a family still. He had people to live for, a family and house. All she had was a fucking mess.

The footsteps on the stones only caused the other prisoners to cry more—some for their innocence, some for food or blankets or anything. Cass just continued to stare at the ceilings, to the drips of water and the cracks that lined the grey stones. The person was getting louder, and she turned her head when they stopped in front of the bars, her mind tingling as she saw the man dressed in white. Cass stiffened to a sitting position, but her legs felt too weak to stand. Dirt and water were matted in her hair and skin and clothes, but Cass didn't move to clean any of that. It would make no difference anyway.

"Why?" Jaime stared at her, green eyes piercing and too, too beautiful in the dark. Her chest was heavy, burdensome, but staring at him, face pallid and low, she knew she wouldn't regret this.

"Because I love you." The tears stung and rolled down her face. "Gods, Jaime. I couldn't watch you die."

"I can't either."

It was then Cass noticed another man by his side, this one bald and shorter than the Lord Commander. The sight of him was confusing, startling, but Cass kept her back straight and her chin high. She desperately wiped her skin of any water. "Lord Varys? Ser Jaime and I…"

"Are one little whisper I have not heard." He folded his fingers together. "That is, until Ser Jaime here confessed it himself. I knew you two partook in…trainings, but a romantic relationship remained only a…"

"Why are you here?" She sensed something wrong. Jaime was on edge, and she never saw these two men ever together. "Jaime? Why is the spider…"

"Lady Cassana Baratheon…it's a name that holds a lot of weight. Almost as much as my master."

The last thing she needed or wanted was to hear more about Cersei Lannister. She said as much to the two men in front of her, and Varys started laughing. "No, my lady. And let me excuse my company for a moment and tell you that my loyalties have never lied with any Lannister or Baratheon."

"Then who…" She swallowed. The Mad King? His son…Viserys. No, he is dead. He means the girl. He means…

"You remind me of her some days, though from what I hear she would not give up on life so easily, especially not for a lover."

"Daenerys Targaryen." That girl was…just a girl. Exiled. Forgotten. She had not been to Westeros since she was a babe yet the spider thought she would come back? That she would want that horrific, blood drenched throne for herself?

The look on Varys face suggested yes, she did. But what Cass failed to recognize was what that had to do with her. "Would you like me to apologize on behalf of my brother? Robert never did get a chance to kill her."

"I do not associate you with your brother, Lady Cassana. Though how easily you both forget that you're part dragon."

She didn't forget. She had memorized her family tree over and over and over again with her Septa. Her father was half Targaryen. Some would have also said he was also half mad. "It's hard to remember when you hang stags on Dragonstone's walls and the Red Keep."

"Don't incite him, Cass. This is Varys' convoluted way of trying to help you." Jaime looked pained, desperate.

"How? By handing me over to the dragon queen? She'd kill me on the spot."

"She might not," Jaime argued, too quick, too faulty. "She might not but my sister absolutely will."

Varys nodded. "I will send the message with my little birds. You are exiled, Cassana—an outcast. She has accepted outcasts before. Ser Barristan, Jorah Mormont."

All men who offered something. All men who have showed more loyalty than me. But what were her choices, really? She was tired of running, tired of trying to survive, but how could she say that to Jaime? How could she accept something like death when this man was trying so damn hard to fight for her? "Why are you doing this?" She was looking at Jaime, but he didn't answer.

Varys lowered his hands. He suddenly looked older, exhausted. "We both want the same thing, my lady. We want what's best for the realm."

"Robb comes with me."

"No." The Lord Commander was firm. Jaime practically spat the words, "Robb Stark will stay here and die."

"You want an alliance? You want this woman on the throne? You need the North for that. Let her convince him, and then let him send his armies." Does he know what he's doing? He was setting her against his family, his children. He was making her a weapon against the Lannisters, against him. "Maybe you should come with me too."

Jaime shook his head. "Tyrion and I are visiting Dorne tomorrow to check on our niece." His voice was louder now, carrying over the wails of the prison, and as he backed away, she could only see his green eyes in the dark. "Goodbye, Cass."

"Jaime, wait!" That couldn't have been it. That wouldn't be the last time she saw him, her huddled and dirty, him looking grim and absolutely terrified. She felt it in her bones and she continued to shout for him.

But he didn't turn. Cass was left yelling, and Varys held up a hand. She felt colder suddenly. Empty. She tried to find the white cloak in the flickering torchlight, but could only see the spider. "Lady Cassana, you have not accepted my offer."

She could roll over and die. She could lay in this cell and take her own life and see her brothers again. And why? Because she was losing? Because this was too hard? She had been given chance after chance to do something, to change something in this world, and would she really give up now? "You...you see something in me that I don't quite see."

"He does." Varys was nonchalant. "But I think you know what I see. You're smart, clever. But more importantly than that, you're a politician. You know these people and that is something my young queen does not yet posses. She does not know how to be a lady in these courts, what it's like to be in these courts." He paused and swallowed. "Do you accept?"

"I accept. But can you tell me one more thing?"

"Anything."

"Are the dragons real?"

Varys only smiled.

A/N:

GUESS WHO'S BACK.