Long time no see!
Welcome one and all to my own personal What if series.
There are three reasons for why I've returned to the land of Fanfiction.
1) I've just finished the first draft of my original novel and wanted to take a mental break and play around with an old story
2) Marvel's What If series was SO much fun
3) A lot of people over the years have suggested alternative twists for my story 'Mine is the Fury' and some of them are really good. So good in fact, they've been wheedling around in my mind, and now that I'm taking a step back from my original work, I thought I'd revisit the story that started it all!
So yes – I will be writing a couple one-shots / short multi-chapter stories to get the old juices flowing. If you have any suggestions for what you would like to see in the future, please let me know! Who knows, it might even get written…
To kick of the mini-series is one of my personal favourites:
What if Jon Snow went south to King's Landing, rather than the Wall?
Now, I don't have it in me to dedicate three years of my life to another complete GOT rewrite with a twist, so this is not about the Great War, the Iron Throne, or any of that big stuff. It's more of a romance short-story set in the ASOIAF universe. Though, my attempt to write a short story ended up being 30K words, but it's progress.
This story has some major differences right out of the gate (Trueborn Joffrey? No love at first sight? Who are Jon's parents?) so just remember to keep an open mind. This! Is! for! Fun! And changes nothing in the original canon of Mine is the Fury – which will remain untouched.
Writing this, I wanted to experiment with a more traditional kind of princess. This feels like a different person to my OC Selene, so I've changed her name to avoid confusion, and to bring home that this is an AU.
So I hope you enjoy this– and let me know if there are any other one-shot type Game of Thrones / Mine is the Fury scenes you'd like to see.
All the best,
Rose
As You Will
Part I
The Wolfswood
The visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of gold and silver and polished steel, three hundred strong, a pride of bannerman and knights, of sworn swords and freeriders. Over their heads a dozen gold banners whipped back and forth, emblazoned with the black stag of Baratheon.
From the wheelhouse, Princess Cassana Baratheon looked at the grey, grim fortress with little more than indifference.
A knight knocked on the window and mumbled through the glass.
"What do you mean the wheelhouse doesn't fit through the gates?" Queen Cersei asked.
The knight looked uncomfortable and unwilling to gamble his position with a response.
"I'm sure he meant exactly what he said, Mother," said Princess Cassana. "Thank you, ser."
"This is ridiculous," Mother muttered, gathering her crimson skirts and adjusting the tiara on her head. "The north is ridiculous."
Cas laughed, turning to her younger siblings, "Don't repeat that to the Stark children."
The huge carriage of oiled oak and gilded metal was followed by a plainer one, and Cassana overheard her ladies disembarking.
"I can't believe people live is such a grey place."
"It's no Highgarden, that's for sure."
Cassana struggled to keep her composure as she accepted the knight's hand and left the wheelhouse.
The wind struck her like a slap. Cassana had expected cold, but the wind cut through her clothes like a knife and made her hair flair behind her.
Jeyne squealed as the wind tugged at her skirts.
Margaery and Myranda laughed at her.
Cassana fought a smile, but lowered her voice, "Enough, all of you. I won't have the entire north think we're a foolish flock of hens."
Myranda Royce took her arm, "No doubt they think that already of us frivolous southerners. We might as well enjoy ourselves."
Margaery's cat-like eyes were raking the crowd of northerners for potential, "Oh, I intend to."
Jeyne rolled her eyes, taking Cassana's other arm, "There's a time and a place, ladies. This is neither."
"Your time is never and your place is nowhere," said Myranda.
Cas laughed along that time, and after a moment Jeyne was giggling, too.
The queen gestured for her children to come to her. Cassana straightened her spine and joined the royal family, a dutiful and obedient princess once more.
Lord and Lady Stark were no different than any other nobles she had met. They bowed low to her parents, praised the beauty of the two princesses, expressed their approval of the two princes and offered them all the hospitality of their hall and hearth.
The only Stark of an age with her with the eldest, Robb Stark, who had his mother's Tully colouring.
Cassana vaguely wondered if this was the lordling her father would marry her to, as she did with every highborn boy of her age.
She offered her hand.
"Princess," Robb said, bowing deeply and bringing her fingers to his lips.
If he was her betrothed, he had a very ordinary way of showing it.
Cassana gave him a demure smile. Everything had to be demure with lordlings.
The lord and lady of the castle escorted the king and queen to their solar, but the rest of the party was free to do as they pleased until the welcome feast that night.
Myranda knew exactly how she wanted to spend their time.
And that's how the princess found herself on the parapets overlooking the training grounds, while the young men of the castle sparred with each other, as they did in every castle from the Arbor to the Wall.
Myranda, buxom and fleshy, looked like a cat over a bowl of fresh cream. "Bed, wed, dead."
"Myranda." Cassana cast a quick eye around for any of her siblings, or worse, her Lannister uncles.
"What? You love this game."
Margaery tilted her head. "It's not as fun when there are only three choices."
"You can't even see them properly from up here," said Cassana. She had met Robb, and could distinguish him by his auburn hair, but the other two were strangers to her.
"Some of us may not see our husbands properly before marriage," Myranda said. "Consider this practice."
"Having a choice doesn't really make it practice, does it?" asked Cas.
Jeyne's attentions were usually on a page of a book or her needlework at times like these, but her big brown eyes followed Robb Stark as he fought in the courtyard.
"Jeyne's choice seems clear," Margaery mumbled.
Cassana leaned toward her friend, "Do you like Robb Stark?"
"He's…" Jeyne cleared her throat, "alright, I suppose."
The other three began laughing until Jeyne's cheeks were aflame. "What?"
Myranda wrapped an arm around the Westerling's waist. "That's the most interest you've shown a boy since we've known you."
"I was starting to think you fancied one of us," said Margaery.
Jeyne was appalled at that, which just made them laugh harder.
Their laughter drew the attention of those in the courtyard. While one slunk away into the shadows, Robb and his other companion approached them.
"Are you mocking us, my ladies?" Robb asked, a playful smile on his lips.
Myranda was the quickest among them. "Men are so ready to assume everything must be about them."
That brought disbelieving smiles to the boys' faces.
Robb turned to his older friend, "This is my father's ward, Theon Greyjoy."
Greyjoy? The girls gave each other sidelong glances. They were young then, younger than Theon must have been, but they remembered their fathers going off to war to fight the ironborn.
Theon noticed. His smile dipped, or perhaps Cas had imagined that, for the next moment he was grinning. "I promise to behave myself."
Robb took it upon himself to break the tension. "Will you ladies accompany us for a ride?"
"Yes," Jeyne said quickly. She caught herself too late, but turned to Cassana with wide, hopeful eyes. "Only if my lady allows it."
"How can I possibly say no after that?" Cassana muttered for her friends' ears alone, but to the boys she said, "Of course. My father's guards-"
"Guards?" said Theon. "We can protect you in the wolfswood. No one dares to challenge the Starks."
"He's keen," Margaery mumbled.
"What of our reputations?" asked Jeyne.
Myranda was always happy to slip their guards. "There are four of us and two of them. What could go wrong?"
Cassana, too, was loathe to give up privacy. It was too rare a pleasure.
She gave them her brightest smile, "Shall we?"
With the mountains a wall to the west, the wolfswood was a forest of oak and evergreen and black bier that seemed older and darker than any Cassana had ever seen. Older even than the rainwood or the kingswood.
But there was a beauty in the wisps of pale mist threading between the trees, and how their colourful cloaks rippled behind them as the four ladies wove through the trees. Riding was one of the few activities they all equally enjoyed, each having been in a saddle since the age of three.
The boys were in and out of sight, their dark clothes and horses blending into the trees.
"I feel like a Summer Isle parrot," said Cassana when the four of them stopped and dismounted at a stream to refresh the horses.
Margaery looked at her as if she were mad. "Green suits you," she said, using her hands to smooth Cassana's hair. "The colour makes your eyes shine like emeralds."
The sound of horse hooves on damp leaves.
"Tired already?" asked Theon.
"It's the horses that were tired," said Myranda, climbing back in the saddle with grace. "I could ride all day."
Cassana exchanged a tired look with Margaery.
"Sounds like a challenge."
Myranda tilted her head, "First to Winterfell?"
Theon bowed in the saddle, "As my lady commands."
The two were still and quiet for a moment, and then they were gone in a thunder of hooves and kicked up dirt.
"Myranda!" Margaery moaned, leaping into the saddle.
Cassana went to her mare, tugging the reigns, but the horse had not quenched its thirst.
"Wait-" she called, but the rest of the party was gone, charging toward Winterfell.
Cas pulled more firmly on the reigns, her horse finally obeying and trotting back toward the castle.
Alone, the dark beauty of the forest turned ominous. Cassana's head turned at every snapping branch or flutter of leaves. She quickly realised the wolfswood was named for the creatures who lived there, rather than a tribute to the Stark sigil, and urged her horse faster into a full gallop.
That was her mistake.
The horse tripped in the dimming light with a scream and she fell from the saddle, slamming onto the cold ground with a enough force to knock the breath from her lungs.
When she looked up, her horse was gone.
"Damn," she groaned, absurdly glad her mother wasn't nearby to hear her language.
When she tried to rise, a sharp pain lanced in her leg. She pulled her gown aside and saw her ankle was already starting to swell.
"Oh, fantastic," she said. "Simply wonderful." She cleared her throat, ready to shout for help, but thought better of it. Surely her absence would be noticed by now, and surely they would send men to find her. Better to wait for a friendly face then shout and attract a not-so-friendly beast.
So Cas leaned against a nearby oak, pulled her cloak around her shoulders, and waited.
Her confidence dwindled with the daylight. As the sun dropped, so did the temperature, and her attire was not suited for a night in the woods. She wanted to make a fire but had no idea how.
Fear crept into her blood as surely as the cold.
Once Cas noticed the frost forming in her hair, she knew she couldn't sit still, or she wouldn't make it to morning.
Cassana reached out her hands and searched the dead leaves for what she needed. Once she found a branch that seemed tall and strong enough, she rose, shaking, and put all the weight on her good foot. Her other was pounding, but she took a deep breath of freezing air, and hobbled toward Winterfell.
She thanked the gods that she at least knew the direction, though the length of her journey was a mystery. She hoped the movement would keep her from freezing to death, but she was starting to lose feeling beneath her gloved fingers.
The princess nearly wept with relief when she heard footsteps approach.
"Father?" she called, trying to make out the shapes as they materialised from the shadows. "Uncle Jaime?"
"Yer father's not here, girl."
Shock froze her worse than the cold, but then sense came back and she bolted, falling to the forest floor with a cry as her ankle gave way beneath her.
The pain made the world turn black for moment. When colour returned, two men stood over her, their grins curdling the blood in her veins.
"Where's your horse?"
"My…" Cassana couldn't think straight. "I don't know."
One of the men squatted beside her, eyes taking in her clothes, the gold rings in her hair, the jewels hanging from her ears and neck. "Why don't you hand those over?"
Cas obeyed in such a hurry that they laughed at her, until one piece remained.
"That too."
Cassana looked from one man to the other. "It was my grandmother's."
The man beside her drew a knife. "I wasn't asking."
Cassana went to pull the emerald ring from her finger, but her hand refused. She didn't know whether it was bravery or stupidity, but she met his eyes and spoke in her most commanding voice.
"No."
The two men glanced at each other, and then nearly fell over themselves laughing.
Cassana took this moment to edge away, but one stepped on the edge of her dress, keeping her in place.
One man levelled the knife between her eyes.
Cassana's breath hitched. "Please," she whispered. "It is nothing compared to what my father will give you if you return me to the castle unharmed."
"Horses are better than gold," grunted the standing man.
"We can use gold to buy horses," argued his companion with the knife. "Why risk a father's wrath?"
"You have done nothing to deserve it," said Cassana.
The knife lowered to her chest. "Not yet."
"Leave her teats, will ya?"
"Fine," said the other, and Cas felt a searing pain across her collarbone, followed by a wash of heat.
One moment there was two men, the next there was three. The third cut the first down, a spurt of blood flecking across her face.
The crouching man stood up with a cry, which was cut short by the third man's sword in his throat.
Cassana didn't think, only moved as quick and far as she could, which was neither very quick nor very far.
"Princess?"
"Stay back!" she cried, not turning to look.
"Your father sent me."
Cassana looked.
It was then she saw that he wasn't a man at all, but a boy hardly older than herself. His face was cast in shadow as he knelt before her. "I am yours to command."
Perhaps it was the cold, the fear, the relief, the humiliation… She had never felt so helpless, and so perhaps she was desperate to cling to her noble blood. The words were out before she could stop them.
"Everyone is," she breathed.
The boy's lip twitched. "Yes, I imagine so."
Her eyes weren't on him anymore, but on the corpses at his back.
"You killed them."
"They would have done worse to you."
"I wasn't… I know that. I'm trying to thank you. Why did my father send you?"
"He sent everyone. Every able-bodied man in Winterfell is out looking for you."
Cas squirmed in embarrassment, and as the adrenaline began to leave her body, she began to feel the cold once more.
The boy noticed, removing his cloak and gloves. "Take these," he advised. "They can most likely hear your teeth chattering in Winterfell."
Cassana nearly laughed and was too cold to graciously protest. She seized them, wrapping the cloak as tight around her as she could. She could hardly move her fingers, and the boy slid his gloves over her hands. The warmth was instant, and so welcome that Cas nearly cried.
She gave him an apologetic look. "I'm getting blood on your cloak. I'll have a new one made for you, as thanks."
"No thanks necessary, princess. I'm just glad I arrived in time."
"As am I." Cas drew the cloak tighter around herself. "My father will see that you are handsomely rewarded."
"That's not why I did it." The boy rose. "Can you stand?"
Cassana nodded at her ankle, "Poorly, but yes, I think I can, with help."
He bent down and slid her arm around his shoulders and lifted. They hobbled for a few feet, before he gave a huff of frustration. "My horse is far. This would be a lot faster if I carried you."
It wasn't exactly proper, but Cassana was too exhausted and pained to concern herself with propriety.
She nodded.
The young man swept her legs from under her with an ease that betrayed his youth.
Cassana tried to maintain her dignity, her back straight as a rod, but after a few moments, she felt herself relax with a sigh. Her frantic heart was starting to slow, and her cold face found some warmth in the crook of the boy's neck. He smelled like sweat and woodsmoke, so different from the flowery perfumed knights she was accustomed to.
"Princess?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you ride?"
Cassana handed him the reigns as he settled behind her in the saddle. The saddle was not made for two, and she found herself leaning against him, so close she was glad her ladies weren't there to mock her for it.
"You saved my life, and I don't even know your name."
In the cold darkness, she felt him hesitate.
"Jon Snow."
Winterfell blazed as bright as the sun as they approached the fortress, every sconce, every tower, every window burning with light. She knew at once that it was all for her, the foolish princess who had gotten lost in the woods.
"She's back!" One of the gatekeepers yelled as they rode into the courtyard.
"Get the king!"
"The princess!"
"Jon!" Lord Ned Stark called as his bastard leapt from his horse. "You found her."
Jon offered her his hands.
Cassana took them gratefully, easing as gently as she could on her good leg, leaning on Jon for support.
Lord Stark noticed. "Get the maester! Princess, are you alright?"
"Yes, thanks to your son."
Jon's grateful smile was so small she almost missed it.
Ned Stark looked equal parts relieved and proud. "Your father and the Kingsguard are all out looking for you. Your mother-"
"Cassana!"
Cersei Lannister came rushing from the Great Hall, her cloak and hair streaming behind her.
"The princess is hurt-" Lord Stark warned, but Cersei paid him no mind. She threw her arms around her eldest.
Cassana winced in pain, Jon no longer supporting her weight.
Cersei searched her, "You're frozen solid! Is that blood?" She turned to the one who had returned her. "What happened to my daughter?"
"Mother," Cassana implored, noticing Jon's pale face. "It was an accident. My horse threw me-"
"What? How could you be foolish enough to leave Winterfell without guards?"
Cassana fidgeted, "Well, I-"
"Cas!" A chorus of high-pitched wails exploded from the opposite end of the courtyard. Her ladies wept with relief at the sight of her, their eyes puffy and red.
"It was all my fault," Myranda sobbed. "Forgive me."
"It's alright," Cas said, alarmed at their tears.
"CASSANA!"
Every soul in the courtyard went to one knee at the arrival of the king, save the queen and princess.
The king jumped from his horse, storming up to her.
The sight of Robert Baratheon in his current state would have struck fear into any warrior's heart, but Cassana was overjoyed.
"Father!" she cried, and he picked her up as easily as he did in her girlhood.
"My sweet girl," the king muttered in her hair, squeezing the life from her. "I thought…we all thought…"
"I'm alright," said Cassana as he gently let her down. She clutched him for strength, which he noticed. "Well, mostly alright."
Robert looked about the courtyard, "Who restored my daughter to me?"
If Jon Snow seemed nervous at the queen's attention, he was white as a sheet at the king's words, but he had no choice.
He rose to his feet.
The king's eyes were like blue fire in the night. "You saved Cassana?"
Jon swallowed so hard Cas almost heard it from where she stood.
Cassana owed him her life. The least she could do was ensure he received the reward he deserved.
"He did, Father," she said grandly, for the entire courtyard to hear. "Two men threatened my life and my honour, but he slew them. He gave me the cloak off his back to keep me warm and carried me when I was too weak to go on."
Robert's eyes never left Jon's face. "Who are you?"
"Jon Snow, Your Grace."
"Snow?" The king turned to Ned. "Yours?"
Ned Stark nodded.
"Your son saved my daughter, eh? There's only one thing to do, then. Come here, boy."
Jon Snow stepped forward.
"Kneel." Robert freed his sword from its sheath. "Do you hold to your father's gods?"
Jon kept his eyes glued to the king's feet, "I do, Your Grace."
Robert nodded. "Jon Snow," he began solemnly, touching the blade to the boy's right shoulder, "do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"
Jon's chest rose and fell with his breath. "I swear, in the sight of gods and men."
The king moved his sword to his left shoulder. "Arise, Ser Jon of the Wolfswood."
Jon stood, looking taller than he had been only moments before.
Lord Stark went to his son. "Congratulations, Jon."
"Thank you, Father."
"You honour him," said Ned to his friend.
"Aye, and now I must command him." At Jon's confused look, Robert burst into laughter. "You swore to obey your king, did you not?"
"I did," said Jon, "and I will."
"Well said," Robert clapped him on the shoulder. "Knighthood does not make for a happy life, ser. I've seen poor knights roam from tourney to tourney looking for their next meal, and I won't have that life for you. Not for the man who saved my daughter's life."
"My sword is yours," said Jon.
"And your life," Robert reminded him. "And I would have both sworn to my daughter's service."
Cersei stepped forward. "My lord?"
At the same time, Ned frowned, "Robert?"
"It's done," said Robert, ignoring the both of them. "Ser Jon of the Wolfswood, I name you my daughter's sworn shield."
###
Author's Note
Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! It's so much fun to be back in Westeros.
Please leave a review if you can!
Let me know if you have any questions / or if you have any suggestions for the next What If – style story.
See you soon!
Rose
