A/N:

I'm trying to do this thing where I update on a weekly basis. I think I can do it!

Especially because the penultimate episode of the SERIES left me with a lot of...desire to write? That's positive, isn't it? Some story beats may seem similar but this is not following the show...in all ways at least.

Their queen was gone.

She had vanished that day upon her dragon, taken off to gods know where and gods knew when she would be back again. Meereen was in outcry. Meeting after meeting, commoners were welcomed and greeted by Tyrion Lannister who explained the attacks, offered gold in retribution, and were less than calmly escorted back outside.

There were only twelve deaths. Only twelve, Cassana was told. She stood next to Tyrion, hands folded together, nails picking at the skin of her fingers. Her heart stammered as Missandei translated a mother's cries. Her baby had suffocated from the smoke. He was two months old. He died painfully, in agony.

Thirteen deaths.

The Unsullied were pushing the last of the Meerenese from the halls. This had been going on for a week, and Cassana was absolutely breaking. She escorted Tyrion away, the silver hand on his chest seeming to lay right over his heart. "They will overthrow us." Cass didn't bother to whisper it. Varys was walking behind them, and she turned to face him. "We need to leave this place."

"Queen Daenerys…"

"Could be dead." No one had heard from her. Jorah Mormont and that captain from the Second Sons had left three days ago to hunt for her, but as far as Cass was concerned, they could be dead as well. And us too. The Sons of the Harpy were reorganizing, threats painted with the blood of Unsullied soldiers in the streets.

Tyrion shook his head, clearly frustrated. "And then do what, may I ask, Lady Cassana? Return to Westeros with no army, no dragons, and no queen?"

She bit her tongue, the words wanting to fall laden with pure treason. "Then we must think of something to calm this. Grey Worm has stopped five civilians with hidden daggers yesterday, and I am inclined to think that number did not decrease today." Her frustration came out in a restrained growl. "I will not die here, Tyrion." The halls were dusty, dark, and yet still so hot. Her sanity seemed to be razor thin as of late. "These Sons of the Harpy are multiplying like rats. How do we stop them when we do not know who their leader is, who's backing them?"

"Astapor, Volantis, and Yunkai have already been retaken by the old Masters." Varys voice was low. "Meereen is the last of the free cities in Slaver's Bay."

"So we know who's backing them..." She knew her plea to flee was meaningless. The Dothraki would not follow without their Khaleesi. The Unsullied numbers were large, yes, but they would not be enough against all of the main houses. We have Dorne in our pocket. And I am supposed to bring the Stormlords. But she did not know who would follow her besides Beric. You know when to ask. The thought pained her though she still received no news of her brother's death. "We need more ships and ideally more people. We have enough supplies for our current troops and then some, but we will need a base as soon as we arrive."

"And you've thought of one?" Varys was genuinely curious.

"Dragonstone."

"Your brother has that seat."

My brother is dead. "He is north with his army. Dragonstone is barren—unfortunately in both people and resources. Give me more time to get the Stormlands."
"The whisperings for the Stormlands are not good, my lady." Varys spoke lowly. "They are used to having a Baratheon on the throne, not as a follower."

She wanted to curse. Servants moved throughout the hallway, the venue of their discussion becoming increasingly more crowded. "Our allies run thin. The Starks will not go back on their word to…" The thought then hit her. Cass had not seen him all day. "Where is Robb?"

The Spider folded his hands. "I received some distressing news this morning, my lady."

"Distressing?" The pain in her heart doubled. "How so?"

"Come." Varys led both her and Tyrion lower into the pyramid. Cass remained on edge. The Sons of the Harpy were everywhere, well-funded, and these hallways were much too dark. She followed the eunuch closely to their normal meeting room. The room was large and windowless but always lit with candles. Maps of Westeros were lain across the large, rock table, and Cass grimaced at the scribbles. She seemed to find holes in their plans at every glance.

Tyrion rubbed at his eyes as he sat down at the head of the table. It was just the three of them, and no one called to extend an invitation to the rest of the small council. The Lannister cracked his knuckles. He looked older, tired and worn, silver starting to mix its way into his hair. "Let me be honest."

Cassana moved to the small table in the back where wine and a bowl of figs always stood. She did not offer Tyrion any, wanting his clarity instead of her own. "Please."

"I also want to get the fuck out of here."

She drummed the outer edge of the goblet, the metal clanging at her fingertips. "But then where do we go…"

"Where do we go indeed. We cannot go anywhere without conquering and we are missing our conqueror."

Cass sniffed, "Is that what we want? A conqueror?" The room fell silent besides Cass' fingers, and she huffed, impatient, before finding her seat. This is doing us no good. She leaned forward, grabbing the closest map in front of her. She left the chess pieces of each houses alone, leaving them on a much more developed map, and rushed back to get the bowl of figs. Taking one by one, she marked Dragonstone, Sunspear, and the Narrow Sea—Essos not included on this tiny map. "We have these keeps in our employ. The bannermen that would follow me are half with Highgarden and half in the North." Her nails scrapped on the parchment. "And they will not follow me now. Casterly Rock will forever be under Tywin's control. Riverrun is under Tywin's control last I heard. Winterfell is with my brother, but he won't…" Could she say it? Would they believe it? Cass swallowed, rephrasing. "He follows a false god. The North will not stand for it."

"Highgarden is with my father, as are the Greyjoys."

That was news to Cassana. "I'm sorry?"

"The Lannisters traded Euron Greyjoy his nephew in exchange for his fleet. Your Septa must have told you how ours was incredibly destroyed during Balon's rebellion."

Is that a fair trade? "One man for all those boats?"

"And my sister." Tyrion looked longingly at her goblet. "If only I was there to watch her die inside at that news."

Her mind turned. "Is Theon still alive?"

"From what I hear he was left to rot on some deserted island when his sister came for him."

She did? Cassana ripped a fig in two, placing half on Pyke before eating the rest. "Sounds like they are in need of allies. And us boats. How perfect."

Tyrion gave up on willpower and went from his seat to grab a drink for himself. "And what would you promise Yara Greyjoy?"
"The Iron Islands."

He almost spilled the wine he was pouring. "Oh? And I suppose you will promise Ned and Robb Stark the North as well?"

"Who wants to rule over snow and shit anyway?" The words left her smiling, aching, and she wondered if what she was saying was born of strategy for winning or desperation to leave. Cass didn't much care either way. "Five kingdoms are worth more than zero. They are worth much more than dying here."

"And when our queen questions our decisions?"

"If our queen comes back, we can tell her exactly that. You cannot win anything without allies and support." Cass drank heavily and grabbed another fig. "If we have the North, we have the Vale. Suddenly I think we also have a throne." She looked up from the map to the two men beside her. Tyrion seemed to be absorbing the information slowly, looking for the fault in her logic. Varys shook his head, supposedly already knowing it. Cass called him out on it.

"As I alluded before, my little birds reported back to me today. They had news surrounding this as well." He tore a fig in two, placing a half in the middle between the North and the Vale. "Winterfell and the Eyrie are at war."

Her eyes bulged, utter confusion overwhelming her. That can't be. She turned to Tyrion for confirmation that Varys was lying, joking, and the dwarf nearly spat out his wine. "Over what?"

"Lady Catelyn Stark was murdered."

What? Her goblet spilled, wine dying the parchment in layers of red. No one moved to clean it, though Cass rushed from her seat, body cold but desperate to find Robb. Her hand paused on the door's handle as she heard Tyrion ask, "Murdered? By who?"

"Lysa Arryn."

The name left her sprinting.

She often got lost in the Great Pyramid, but today she was focused and quick. Cassana Baratheon found Robb Stark's room with ease, and she opened the wooden door immediately, not bothering to knock. The man himself was harder to find. His room was unlit with any candles, and the sun was nearly set. She shifted through the room, silent, hearing the soft, strangled breathing before she saw the door to his balcony open. Robb Stark was half dressed, eyes red, as he sat hunched on the stone floor outside.

Cassana moved to sit by him and traced a hand over his arm. The floor was ice cold compared to the dry, heavy air surrounding her. He flinched before turning to her, and she could immediately tell that he had been crying. "I do not want you to see me like this."

The words surprised her. Cass laid her head on his bare shoulder and tried her best to not let her own tears fall. "I've seen you in a black cell."

"I'd go back there for her, Cass." Robb leaned against her, warm, and firm, though she knew inside he was shattered. Her own lungs followed the rhythm of his breathing, and she tried to picture what he was going through. I never knew my mother. But she had known Catelyn Stark, how strong of a woman she was, how she brushed Cassana's hair, expected her as a new daughter. She pictured in that cart, shackled, a commodity to be traded at King's Landing. Her body felt restricted; mind lightheaded. I couldn't help her.

"I wish I was here when you found out."

"I am glad you weren't. I…" Robb exhaled deeply, causing Cassana's whole body to move. "I can't stay here."

Her head lifted away from him. "What?"
"What are we doing here, Cassana? I can't…that woman." He grabbed at his hair, the red curls frizzed and dry from the eastern heat. "She is not fit to rule, and you know it."
"Robb…"

"This place is chaos. She has abandoned these people when they have needed her most. She…she disregards their traditions and all for what? To prove to us that she is just?" He nearly spat. "She buys their loyalty with blood. She cannot do the same in Westeros."

Cassana grabbed both of his shoulders. Robb Stark was furious, passionate. He was angry and hurting, and Cassana…agreed with him. "We don't know that she will."

"I have to go back."

"Back?"

"To Winterfell." His blue eyes faltered from her face for just a moment. "My family has suffered, and I can do nothing here to help them. My father is attacking the Vale. My sister is held prisoner there still."

Sansa… "That is Tyrion's wife. Surely he'll…"

"Do not tell them." Robb raised a finger to her lip, silencing her. "You cannot tell them."

"Robb, what you are doing is treason."

"Only if she were my queen, Cass. We have yet to agree on that." He leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. His breath was warm, lips smooth and wet against her skin. Cassana nearly fell over from his touch, and the tears that she was trying to stop finally poured in tiny droplets on the stone floor. Wind brushed across the balcony, hot and stinging her cheeks as she reached for Robb's face. "I cannot fight a foreign war while my family is dying. That is treason."

She struggled to breathe, to praise him and stop him simultaneously. Her body shook with worry and fear, but she could do nothing but lean her head against his own, voice hollow. "I don't want you to go."

He wiped away a tear from her cheek and then slowly, cautiously, kissed her. It was gentle, almost phantom-like in its contact, a velvet touch on her lips. All Cassana could taste was sadness. "I…I will see you again."

He did not ask for her to follow him or swear to any side. Cassana wouldn't know what to say if he had.

There was a thick piece of parchment on her bed when she returned to her room. The stars were beginning to fade into light by the time she made her way back, and she was already preparing an excuse to tell a servant why she could not attend court when she noticed it.

The penmanship was sloppy, amateur. She had not recognized it at first until she read the first sentence.

Please know that I am safe.

Her gasp was loud, catching in her throat, and Cass found herself squeezing the parchment, collapsing it into a fist as she fell onto her bed. Her chest rocked from the tears, her muscles weak and relieved and so, so tired. Cass had not allowed herself to think about Jaime in Dorne. Jaime again with the Red Viper and trying to rescue her niece and his daughter from whatever threat there was. Jaime potentially hurt or maimed or dead. She could not let herself even dwell on that possibility while she was stuck in this city on fire.

"The Seven, thank you." She exhaled deeply and turned to lie on her back, almost choking on her own phlegm. Cass started, sitting up, and attempted to smooth out the parchment further.

Please know that I am safe. I am back in the Red Keep but without our niece. She is dead.

The knot in her chest twisted, and the relief she felt mixed again with unbelievable grief. "Jaime…" She hoped he was not a witness to it. He had already watched one child die.

Your brother has also passed on. You asked how and I am told Wildlings.

The Stranger haunted her. Jaime was safe but there was so much death. Good people. Innocent people. And maybe her brother was none of those things, but she had loved him. A numbness started to swarm through her. Cassana swallowed before reading on.

I hope you are safe. I have not recieved word from you. Perhaps its better that way. Know I do not write much, Cass. I don't know what to say except I love you and I'm sorry. I hope that is enough.

She tried to delicately fold the unsigned letter, the thick parchment slipping in her fingers. She had become clumsy, unbalanced, and when she moved to place the parchment by her bedside, she noticed the piece of bundled cloth. Cass pulled at the strings tying the ends together and unfolded the dark fabric to reveal a chain. It was plain, a simple circlet of iron rings, and Cass swore to never take it off again.

Robb was gone the following morning. She did not know when he had left. She did not know how or where he was exactly going, and that is exactly what she told the small council that day. "What did you expect of him?"

She let the question hang in the room. The silent, pale faces answering for her and ceasing any other provocation. He is a better man than all of us. Foolish, yes. But better was the word that stuck to Cassana's thoughts the most and she would no hear anyone denounce him further. She turned to her right where Tyrion sat at the head of the long table. "My lord, please continue."

"Lord Varys recently brought to my attention that the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch asks for aid."

Her eyes flickered to an empty chair, thinking of Jorah. "What does Commander Mormont wish from us?"
"It is not Commander Mormont's wish but Commander Snow's."

Her brow tightened. "You can't possibly mean Jon Snow, can you? Ned Stark's bastard?"
Tyrion nodded at the question and straightened out the letter in front of him. "He asks for men for the Wall. They are seemingly running quickly out of supplies and bodies." He brought the parchment closer to his face. "This is dated ages ago."

"Have there been a lot of Wildling uprisings?" Barristan asked.

"My brother was killed by one, supposedly."

Varys brought out a small slip of paper from his sleeve. "Fascinating. Yet the words I hear sing a different song altogether."

The table heads turned to him. Cassana eyed the man suspiciously. "Surely you must have heard of my brother's death. I imagine a Master of Whisperers could hear that rumor easily enough."

"Aye, my lady and please forgive me for not relaying that information to you sooner. I needed…to confirm." He pushed a pile of sealed parchments across the table and to Cassana. One of them laid open. "And do excuse me for intercepting some of your letters. You've had many as of late."

What is this? She recognized the broken seal immediately. "This is from Lord Beric Dondarrion." Her eyes skimmed the rushed handwriting. "He is recommitting his loyalty to me. That is not surprising. My brother is dead, and he has always held House Baratheon above all but his own."

Varys nodded. "Please, continue."

She did as she was told and opened the next letter. "Ser Imry Florent—my sister-in-law's brother." This one was longer, even harder to read. The words were hastily written and sent, and the tone scared Cassana. "He …has abandoned my brother? That cannot be right." She looked up from the table, as if that would give her answers, but Varys only held out his hand, gesturing for her to continue. "…Selyse has killed herself. She…" The words were jumbled, not making sense. They read as sentences, but it couldn't…it couldn't. "Shireen was murdered?" Her whole body was cold.

"Burned alive."

Cass breath escaped as a coarse wail, the parchment falling from her hands. Stop it. Stop it, Cassana. Not in front of these men. Her eyes flickered to Grey Worm, Missandei, those she had not known at all and who did not know… "She was my niece. She was…a young girl. Bright and full of light despite what the gods had given her." That is no way to die. That…

Missandei immediately responded. "I am sorry, Lady Cassana."

She bowed her head in recognition. Her mind would not allow her to pause; she would only fall apart then. Cass placed the letter to the side. The next seal was an onion on the sail of a large ship. "Ser Davos Seaworth." The next a seahorse. "Lord Monford." And then a nightingale. "House Caron…" Each parchment had a different seal. "These are all my brother's bannermen."

Tyrion was only looking at the pile. "And they all swear fealty?"

"They do," Varys answered for her and held up the small slip of paper from his hand. "They are sworn to House Baratheon but what your brother did was an unforgivable act."

"They left him for dead then." Cass nodded, starting to understand. "He killed her, didn't he? Imry does not say but he did. He gave her to that witch." Her words hung like poison. Cass stiffened back into her chair before rising completely. She moved to the elaborate map in the center where an onyx stone shaped as a stag stood. Deftly, she knocked it over, the clang reverberating in the room. "He is dead then. Fine. Let us move on."

Missandei glanced at the fallen piece. "You will treat these men then? Ask them to join our cause?"

"Yes." She was emotionless, and the sound of her own voice had her stirring. "I…I think I need to be alone for a moment. If that please you, my lord?"

The Hand said nothing, only nodded, and Cassana moved to grab all her letters. They were heavy in her hands, and she was not sure if it was the sheer volume of them all or the fact that her body was so weak. She was a ghost of herself, dead and hollow and so cold. My family is dying. Her knees wobbled at the thought, and she stopped to lean on the stone wall on the way back to her chambers. I have no family.

Brothers dead. Nieces dead. Mother and father dead and drowned and never to see the light of day again. Her fingers fell to the chain around her neck, and she was both disgusted by and longing for the man who gave it to her. "Fuck." She exhaled. Cassana straightened her spine against the wall and pushed off it. She made sure her shoulders were firm, even, and that her hands had stopped shaking before she continued on to her room.

It was hours later than she expected that she was summoned to Lord Tyrion's room. She was not surprised to see Lord Varys already there, or the two goblets of wine, one half full, the other placed perfectly in front of a seat for her. Cassana did not move to sit down at the table with these men. Her hands curved over the back of the wooden chair, her eyes slowly adjusting to bright lights in this room. She had laid in the dark, eyes open but seeing nothing. Her thoughts had been blank of anything of any importance, but still she spoke first. "I know why you have asked me here."

Neither of them looked shocked. Tyrion patted the seat next to himself. He wanted her to sit. "My dear sister, please."

She almost choked at the name, the sadness churning right under the surface of her fragile composure. Cassana had missed that. She had forgotten how much she had missed Tyrion and the Red Keep when he had been right beside her this whole time. "You want to make me a queen."
"I do not," Varys rebutted. "My loyalties have been with House Targaryen and the realm."

Cassana shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"You are not my first choice to be queen, Lady Cassana, but you may be my best choice."

"Because of my men?"

Tyrion nodded. "And your birthright. And the little fact that we actually don't have a queen at the moment. We need a contingency plan."

"Let's call it what it is, shall we?" This word was more commonplace in her daily life than she would have liked. "You speak of treason."

"How many kings have you sworn loyalty to in this war?" Tyrion twisted the knife deep, but she could not deny his logic. "Would you consider it? If our queen does not return?" She had been…fickle. She had been so anxious to run, to find what is right, but it was not her. It could not be her.

"I don't want a throne. That…that bloody thing has murdered my family. It has taken away every fucking thing I have ever cared about. Find someone else."

"There is no one…"

"Not me." Cassana crossed her arms. "Do not… do not tempt me with that again. I will not die for power. Maybe at one time I would have answered differently, but not now. That seat has buried too many people I love." She stood from her chair. "As you said, Daenerys Targaryen will come back. I will deliver her my brother's army as promised. Goodnight."

The door clanged behind her with more force than she intended, but it was small in comparison to the rage she felt. She was frustrated, furious. Everything was slowly but completely going to shit, and she did not know what to do. I cannot rule. She picked up her skirts and led herself back to her room. The candles flickered rapidly as she passed them. She thought of the golden crown Robert wore, the crowned stag banner that decorated King's Landing and the Red Keep's walls. She thought of the throne room, the seat of swords, of the men and women she would try to put next to her there. No. She shook her head, gagging. In her heart, she did not want it. She could not rule that realm. A queen was not so easily swayed by tides of war, so desperate to protect the people she loved. That was foolish. That was death.

Daenerys Targaryen placed me on her small council for a reason. But was it to watch Cass' loyalty? Or because the dragon queen knew her own weaknesses? She could still be malleable. She could learn.

She had time to figure that out, if Daenerys ever came back. And though every part of her ached to go to sleep, to drown out the emotional blow after blow handed to her today, Cass sat down at the small desk in her chambers. She had letters to write.