A/N:

Sometimes the show wants to steal all my future fun...

Oh well! That's what I get for an extended hiatus.

Thank you thank you thank you to all my amazing readers, followers, and favoriters! Special thanks (as always!) to my wonderful reviewers. Seriously, the amount of times I read reviews is painful:

Laura20112 (Thank you! This chapter was sort of a slog, but hopefully it's okay), Barryium (Thank you! I'm so glad to hear I'm getting characterizations right. That's why I love fanfic! And the Robb/Cass dynamic is...strained), FairyFelicity (Well I can promise you a little but more Robb/Cass time...), hairymayojar (Hopefully not too late! But thanks! Always means a lot when people are sacrificing wonderful sleep for a story!), Bella-swan11 (That's actually a very fair analysis. Jaime can't offer her all the things that Robb can. But what does she even want anymore?), Gentle Blossom (Jaime probably would talk offense, but I don't :) Glad you're liking the OC! I've said this a few times but OCs are SO HARD to get right. Impactful but not Mary Sue. That's the goal!), and Guest (I hope that's a good hmm!).

Is the shipping war still going on? Uh oh. I need help.

Disclaimer: I do not own this wonderful series.

She waited outside the door to where she thought Jaime was staying. It had been several hours since she had last seen him, and she felt awkward at how they left it, how he ran off without saying a word after they…after…

Her cheeks felt hot thinking about it. Cassana rubbed her palms on her blue dress, grateful again that she had been given some clothes, and knocked again. "Jaime." There was still no answer. Cass pressed her back against the wood of the door, rocking carefully with the ship, closing her eyes so she couldn't see the waves crash and tumble across from her. She could smell the salt, feel the wet foam on her face as the ship flew across the Narrow Sea. The water looked grey and dead despite all the movement. Her chest started heaving in and out and she leaned against the door more to steady herself. It didn't work.

"Cass?" Jaime walked towards the door, one hand on his sword. "Are you alright?"

"I don't like boats."

"I imagine you don't." He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here?"

"I was waiting for you."

"In front of Vary's chambers?"

"Varys?" Her knees moved with the boat. Cass pushed back a black curl behind her ear. "This isn't your room?"

"No."

Her face flushed. "I don't know why I assumed. I thought…"

"You're also staying there." Jaime shrugged and leaned on the door next to her. "But I like the idea of barring Varys from the outside. The man talks like his life depends on it."

She snorted. "That's because it does, you know. Master of Whisperers." She held her smile, staring at the floor and her shoes before exhaling. "I came to apologize."

"No, you didn't."

"I didn't. I'm not sorry." Cassana looked up. "It's a terrifying mess."

"Our lives?"

"The sea, Jaime." She bit her lip. "I suppose our lives too."

"I'm mad at you."

"You are not."

He moved on his shoulder, eyes sparkling. "I am. We have a week left together and you're choosing to act all upset and heartbroken instead of just enjoying it."

"I'm not heartbroken."

"I am," he said lightly, easily. "But I don't want to talk about it."

And he didn't. Jaime just continued to stand next to her, head back, shoulders too, too high. She rested her head against him as she watched the water. Westeros was long behind the fog and, the Father help her, she missed it. She must be mad. "What do you want to talk about then?"

"You, maybe. Us. I'm finding us to be a nice distraction."

"From the war?"

"From the not us." Jaime touched her hair. "Fuck the war. I live in war with lulls of peace."

"I can't stop thinking about it." Her voice sounded hollow. Cass cleared her throat. "Maybe it's because I don't remember my brother's rebellion but I remember all the stories from my Septa. I expected the hero to win."

"Robert Baratheon was only a hero to you and the Starks, Cass. You forget that." He stayed close, fingers catching on knots of dark brown. "To the Lannisters, my father is a hero. I'm sure the Greyjoys thought that idiot Balon was the gods gift to us all, and look what happened there."

Dead. All dead except for Tywin Lannister. She remembered her dream. The graves. The cold. The death that seemed to invade her. She shivered and looked back at the water. "How is Greenshit?"

The knight fidgeted. "Sorry?"

"Greenstone. I don't remember it."

He huffed at her, hands sliding to her neck and forearm. "It's a craggily pile of rocks with moss. The beach is barely there. The wind howls like a phantom and bites like a snapping wolf. I'll take you there."

There was a gentle hum in her chest. "Not Casterly Rock?"

"There too of course. We'd constantly go to Casterly Rock."

"And Storm's End."

His hands stopped. Jaime tugged her tighter, voice shaking. "I'd assume that's where we'd stay."

She pushed off him gently, eyes racing over his face, not knowing exactly what to say. Cassana tried to steady her breathing. She knew he didn't want that—didn't think of himself as a lord or husband or anything besides a Lannister and a Kingsguard. A part of her wanted to hit him. "Jaime, you don't have to tell me that."

"You'd rather stay at Casterly Rock? I forget you haven't been there either. The Sunset Sea is beautiful."

She relaxed back, letting herself fall into the game. "I hear there are lions in your basement."

His breath tickled her. "There are lions everywhere."

"Sounds unsafe for a Baratheon."

Jaime angled himself over her, forehead resting on her own. "For a Baratheon, yes." He kissed her, arms against either side of her head, and her knees rocked again. His lips felt cool, crisp, as if he had swallowed a piece of the ocean and brought it to her, and then he gently nipped. She arched back to the door, and he came closer, chest firm against her, stabilizing her body on the gliding ship. His hands moved down her neck, to her hips, tugging and pulling her so that they were flushed—waist-to-waist. She felt him move, the tight leather seeming to stretch across his chest as he kissed her more harshly, commandingly. As the floor rushed and swayed, Cass fell against him, stepping on his toe and becoming incredibly sloppy. She touched his hair and laughed. Dornish sailors idly walked passed, not sparing a second glance, not that Cassana would have noticed anyway. But even with him against her and thoughts of Casterly Rock and the Sunset Sea, Cass felt the hole. She felt the cold anxiety invade her and it was empty. Her breath was short, skin clammy and cool. She fell still, and Jaime edged back. "Perhaps it's better if we only discuss reality."

"No." She shook her head at his guilt. "You were right before, Jaime. About…our time. I don't want to hear about reality."

He grabbed her hands and made her forget about the sea.

That night she dreamt of smoke and salt. She saw the flames rise from the east and the cold from the north, and she did not know which way to run. She was barefoot, naked, walking on snow but leaving no tracks. The wind whipped, and she felt the air touch skin but not the cold, not the biting taste of ice or snow. In the white, there were drops of crimson that speckled and then became deeper, a river of fresh blood. It smelled like sickness, of death, flooding her nose and making her want to gag right there on the spot. But her feet kept dragging her on. She kept walking through the dark, snowlit night, and she couldn't turn away from the smell.

That was when she heard the whining, the mewing ache across the stark air. Her spine tingled as she continued walking, only feeling the shrill tear of the noise around her.

Closer. You are closer.

The voice in her head was low, hollow, but reverberated in her bones. She stiffened but continued to push her feet through the snow. She was following the blood trail and the voice kept lingering, closer, closer, closer, with each step. The blood ran until it formed a ring, a perfect circle of dark crimson staining the pure white landscape. It was beautiful and frightening. It caused her to stop, for her chest to pump and hurt in horror.

There in the middle was a stag—large and majestic—kicking, crying, dying.

You are closer.

She wanted to run away. Her mind begged for her to turn and get out but her body didn't move. She stood there, frozen, a statue in the night, as the stag pleaded for death.

You are closer.

You are closer.

You are closer.

And then death came—the Stranger—hooded and cloaked in darkness. He stood across from her, rigid and tall and asked, "Do I take him?"

The thought burned. Her brother. It was her brother. Her only brother, and she felt her heart drop and shatter. She watched the stag writhe and bleed and weep, and all she could say was, "All men must die."

Jaime had a hand to her forehead, green eyes laced with fear and concern. He was close to her, shirtless, blond hair covering half of his face. "You're crying." He said it matter-of-factly. No worry apparent. No shame. He continued to stare at her. "You're crying in your sleep."

She feigned a smile. "That can't be normal…"

"It isn't." He leaned up on his elbow, and Cassana rested her head deeper into the feather pillow, closing her eyes and feeling the dream absorb her. She was sweaty, breathing heavily. She was so damn terrified and the last thing she wanted to do was think about that with Jaime across from her. But he just continued to look at her.

Cass grabbed his hands. She was fully clothed and so, so warm. No snow. No blood. No death. No… there is that. She didn't know if she should say anything, if he would laugh or think she was mad. But when Cass got away from her own thoughts, she actually saw him. He looked as terrified as she felt, and she knew she should say it. "…I think my brother is dead."

"What?"

"Stannis." She swallowed. This was ridiculous sounding. The sweat was pooling between their hands and she tried to move away. Jaime just gripped her tighter.

"Tell me."

"I dreamed he was dying…there was a stag and he…" She swallowed down the cry wanting to escape. "It's dumb, Jaime. I can't know that."

"But you do." The Kingslayer pulled her hands to his chest. "You know it."

"Yes."

He stayed silent then, and Cass tried to distract herself and only focus on him and his chest and how beautiful he was. That was a weird thought—Jaime Lannister being beautiful. He'd probably laugh at her if she said it out-loud, but he was. Handsome. Gallant. Whatever the word, Cass was absorbed by it. "When do I meet the dragon queen?"

"A week."

That was too short. Ten years would have been too short, but Cass didn't dare ask if he would stay with her again. Jaime leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Your less sweaty now. Good. It was starting to get a little gross, Cassana."

She would have laughed, but her current thoughts tempered it to a small smile. "You're perfect."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't say that."

"You're not perfect." She pressed her body against him, her chin on his collarbone. "But you're brave and smart and so fucking loyal…"

"Don't curse."

"And mine." She caught his eyes. "Can I say that? Can I tell people?"

"You can scream it." He rolled over so that his body was on top of hers. "In fact, I…"

Cassana moved her head. She didn't want to. Not because of him…never because of him, but her mind was gone. She could taste the blood in her mouth, feel the cool emptiness of the Stranger in front of her even though she just wanted to see Jaime. "I can't right now."

He looked confused but not upset. Jaime kissed her cheek once and laid back on the bed, head hitting the pillow with a little more than slight frustration. "I can write you if I find out, Cass."

"You'll tell me how?" Not if. She knew he was. Stannis was gone and she could feel herself choke.

The knight hesitated. "You know they'll fight for you, Cassana—the Stormlords, Dragonstone. Hells, the North and whatever's left of the Riverlands would try and have you crowned."

That was no light thought. "I know." It hit her hard, terribly. "I'm the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms."

Jaime sniffed, eyes like venom. "Let's pray Daenerys Targaryen doesn't know that."

Jaime was more like a cat than a lion at times. He dozed on the bed, the sunlight pouring through their shared chamber, hair blond and glowing, face relaxed in sleep. She stared at him, feeling nervous and warm and achingly sad. "I love you." It came out easier when he was asleep, with his eyes closed and looking so, so beautiful. She wanted to kiss him, to wake him up and kiss him all over, but she needed to leave and he couldn't follow.

Cassana stretched up, moving towards the end of the bed so she did not have to climb over him. Her body was still sore from his touch, lips tender, mind muddled with twisted thoughts of him and dreams and dragons. I don't belong here.

Though she didn't know where that thought ended. Here? Out on the Narrow Sea and on her way to a Targaryen's court? She was a Baratheon. Her family revolted—killed the Targaryens and their legacy. She belonged in the Stormlands. She belonged in Westeros.

And although that was all true, her thought could be even closer, here in this room. Here with Jaime. "I'm not supposed to love you."

He would say the same thing, and Cass wasn't sure if that thought was comforting or painful. They were something that could never be, and here they were fighting for it. It was stupid, senseless, and as much as Cassana never wanted to act that way, she did.

She dressed in red before leaving the room, the light of the afternoon sun blinding her briefly as she walked onto the deck. It was their second day on the ship, and although she had spoken with Tyrion, she had not seen Varys since the Red Keep.

Or Robb.

A part of her worried that had been a lie, that Tyrion was testing her or just using the Young Wolf to get a rise out of Jaime. But then she saw him on the deck, dressed no longer in furs and leather but cotton and linen. The grime and dirt and fear was gone from his face, and he actually looked relaxed. Robb Stark stood there, calm and alive as he watched the sea with envy and awe. Cassana slowly walked up to him. She felt a smile tug at her face when she got a good look at him. "Your face is almost as red as your hair."

He stiffened and turned to her, features softer than she had expected. She thought he would be grim and dour, the taint of the black cells still on him, but that wasn't it at all. His thick beard was gone, and he looked so, so young. His eyes were bright and too blue, unparallel even with the sea mere feet away. "I've been looking for you."

She felt pressure in her chest, a growing anxiousness and, strangely, guilt. "Have you? Well, you've found me."

"Gods, Cassana. We haven't spoke. I haven't…" He slipped a hand through his hair. "How did I get here?"

"Varys." And Jaime. She couldn't say it. "Do you know where we are going?"

"Essos." He said the foreign word like a true foreigner, the North seeping into his voice—harsh and cold. His fingers curved over the wooden railing of the boat. "To be a ward of a Targaryen."

"Not a ward."

"I'm King in the North, Cassana." Robb argued. "I'd be nothing more than a ward or a prisoner there too."

"You're an idiot." She was tired of wars and titles and men that were too proud. Cass pushed on Robb's shoulder when he turned away from her. Perhaps she was being too harsh and blunt with the man, but the very thought of him complicating their situation even more irritated her to no end. "Robb, listen to me. You can't…" She swallowed. All the kings she knew had died. Robb had been close to death so many times that to still be stuck on something so silly as a crown did not make any sense to her. "You can't go to the dragon queen as a king. You don't even want to be a king."

"I need to for my people, Cass. We do not even want a southern king. How do you expect the North to obey a ruler who has not been to Westeros for decades? Someone who thinks she deserves it solely based on a name?"

They won't. She knew that. But they also wanted Robb alive. She wanted to be alive and she could not pretend to walk in, as a Baratheon, with another monarch at her side, and actually survive. "Your people need, allies, Robb. We were not saved to compete in this war." And I have more right to the crown than you. She bit that thought back. "We are here to help her win."

He grimaced. "And you expect me to help her? Her father killed my uncle, my grandfather. Her brother raped and kidnapped my aunt."

"And my brother and your father slaughtered them for it." Cassana turned his shoulders, gripping until he looked her dead on. "We are here for an alliance. We are here because if we go back and Cersei and Tywin still rule the Red Keep, we will be dead." She exhaled, frustrated, exhausted. "Do you understand? Because if not, we can leave you in Pentos." Cassana refused to sway on this. She did not leave everything behind for him to put them in even more risk. She could not let him spit on what Jaime had jeopardized.

"What's in Pentos?" The question sounded anything but innocent, and Cassana tried to remove the grimace from her face when she saw Tyrion approach them both. It didn't work. She sighed, frustrated, and kept her gaze away from Robb Stark.

"He wants to keep fighting for a crown."

The Lannister's face became taut, eyes wide. "Who does? You?"

Robb didn't deign that with a response.

"You want us all to be killed?"

"Of course, I…"

"Because we will," Tyrion said pointedly, voice unflinching. Although a short man, he commanded attention with his words, causing Robb's back to straighten, his shoulders to slouch in realization. The dwarf continued, "We will go to Meereen, where Daenerys Targaryen is already queen. Then we will introduce ourselves to her, with you as a supposed king of several of her kingdoms, and she either beheads us or keeps us for ransom."

"Or allows her dragons to eat us," Cassana added.

"Yes, too true. Though I suppose if I were to pick a way to die, death by dragon does…"

"Get to the point." Robb hammered. His grip on the railing tightened and the stress lines were back on his forehead. Cassana, though frustrated and mad, felt she needed to comfort him, help him come to the realization that he had lost. That sacrifices needed to be made in order to survive all this.

"Getting there. Or have you not figured it out yet?" Tyrion visibly rolled his eyes. "You've lost your fight for a free North, but not the war. What do the winterlords want? Their voices to be heard. They don't care if the king is Baratheon or Stark. They only care if someone is listening to them speak. You can still be that person. Together, we can come to an equitable arrangement."

Arrangement? She didn't know what that could be. Cassana knew she would have to apologize. Although she was not responsible for anything her brother did, Robert was still her brother. He had still cut down Rhaegar Targaryen in the Ruby Ford, murdered the last dragon and took his seat. "A part of me just wants to go to Pentos." Her voice was low, shallow. She felt Robb's eyes on her, and dared herself to look up and face him. The frustration was gone from his face, and all that was left was…understanding. Robb Stark placed a hand on her shoulder, and she felt her chest collapse. "I…I understand you though, Robb. You want what is best for your people, and I agree with you. I want what's best for all the Seven Kingdoms and Cersei and Tywin only rule with fear and power. Tommen is just a puppet, and my brother…my brother…"

"Cassana?"

She shook her head. "They say Daenerys is the breaker of chains. They say she believes in freedom and justice, which is more than I could ask for. I want to run to Pentos, but I also want to go home. I want to go home and be at peace. She can help us get that."

His grip on her was tight, throbbing. Robb, for all his pride and torn reflection nodded. "…that's all I want too."

Tyrion released a long stream of air. "Good then. No Pentos for anyone. Varys did promise allies from three houses, so that wouldn't have gone very well for me."

They landed eight days later. She thanked the Mother and Father and probably the Warrior that she had one extra day than she had thought with Jaime, and when they got to the harbor, she was reluctant to move from the room.

Jaime was half-dressed, trousers half-tied, white shirt loose and hanging from his frame. Cassana sat on their shared bed, back flushed against the wall, eyes closed, mouth dry. She could feel the boat move more now that it had stopped. The fact made no sense to her, but it was true. She could feel each rock, each quake. Her stomach sloshed in and out with the momentum, and she felt her head spin and spin and spin.

"You have to get dressed."

"You're not." Her eyes were still closed, but she knew he wasn't. He hadn't moved very much, or at least she hadn't heard him move very much. Cassana rubbed her knees. "And maybe I don't. Maybe I can sail back with you and just stay on this ship."

"I'm going to Dorne."

"Maybe I can go to Dorne."

Jaime sniffed at her, and Cass' eyes flew open. "Is it that ridiculous to think about? Me in Dorne?"

"Yes."

"Oberyn liked me."

"He did not," Jaime moved in front of her, his hands joining her own on her knees. "He only hated me more."

"And you intend to see this man? Who hates you so?"

"Hated."

"Jaime…" She didn't know he wouldn't be going directly back to King's Landing. What if Dorne was a trap? And even if it weren't, what if Cersei and Tywin already learned of this betrayal and were waiting for him? Cassana hit her head on the wall behind her. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"You promise me that too."

"And that you'll live through this?" Her breath was weighted. She felt like drowning. With each and every tip of the ship it felt like water was flooding her lungs, spilling through her body and making it so damn hard to breathe. Cassana curled forward as Jaime kissed her slowly.

"You promise me that too."

"I promise." And she leaned back in, tugging at the back of his head, deepening the kiss so furiously because this was the last time. She was leaving him.

Jaime reacted strongly, hands over her collarbone and shoulders, cupping the bottom of her breasts before cinching her waist. She felt the coolness of water agaist her cheeks, and Jaime pulled back. His fingers pushed away her hair before moving over her chest. "Thank you, Cassana."

She wanted to ask, for what?, but Jaime had kissed her again, his lips brushing, almost missing contact, before he moved away from her completely. The question burned within her, silent, hurting, as she watched him put on the red overcoat and boots, watched him fight himself from turning back around as he walked out the door.

And though it never left her thoughts, and he never answered, she somehow knew. She knew why he had said that, and she didn't think she would ever stop crying.

A/N:

I know I messed with their separation before but this is it. Opposite sides now and things are bound to get interesting...