Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. All rights go to Game of Thrones of HBO and George R.R. Martin.
A/N: Welcome to chapter 4!
Ch. 4 Revelations
Tyrion Lannister was a peculiar man of specific tastes. Cunning, nevertheless, but peculiar. He liked drinking and he liked whores. He liked gambling and he liked finery. But what he did not enjoy was his eldest niece's behavior as she fidgeted in her chambers. "You don't look like the image of a blushing bride," he remarked from the doorway, awakening Cassana from her thoughts.
"Is it that obvious?" Cassana asked.
"To your mother, perhaps not. But to me, I think I know what this is about." Cersei had most likely praised Joffrey for his behavior. Nothing he did was a fault in her eyes. But when you had a rotten apple for a son and neglected the other three, some would say she was an unfit mother. Tyrion was one of those people.
"Joffrey was a coward for provoking Robb like that. And now he can barely meet my eye when we are together." Robb's warming nature towards her was now cool and contained, Robb now encompassing the cold demeanor when they first were introduced.
"That will fade. His pride has been stung. Starks have their honor, but they also have their tempers," Tyrion retorted. He approached his niece, approaching her on her perch in front of the window. He patted her knee in a fatherly manner. "Would you like to come with me? I have a gift for you that you may enjoy." He had a mischievous look about him and Cassana returned it in tenfold.
Cassana stared from the window of the wheelhouse, the corners of her mouth upturned in a grin. A brothel, how original of Tyrion Lannister. He ushered her inside quickly, Cassana careful to avert her eyes from the displays of fornication open for all to see. She pulled the hood of her cloak closer, hiding her identity from any of her father's or mother's men that were absorbed in the women. Tyrion led her further into the establishment, entering one of the rooms unannounced.
"You're back, m'lord." A beautiful woman with a thick head of red curls purred from the bed. She laid on her stomach, practically naked. She had only expected her uncle, Cassana gathered. The woman's eyes widened in curiosity, not bothering to cover her modesty with the bedsheet when she noticed Cassana emerge from the doorway.
"With a guest, Ros. I'm afraid we will conduct our business later, after your lesson."
"Lesson?" Ros questioned with feigned ignorance. "Oh of course, m'lord. That lesson." She rose from the bed, not shy at all with her breasts on full display. A thin cloth of silk covered her lower region. Cassana couldn't draw her blue orbs away from the sight. Ros was so confident in her body, her sexuality oozing from the way she carried herself. She blatantly left her robe open, not bothering to tie the sash around the middle. The valley of her breasts peeked out from behind the fabric and Cassana's cheeks flushed red.
"I'll be back later," Tyrion spoke with a wicked glint in his eyes. "You can tell me I'm your favorite uncle afterwards."
The room was silent as Tyrion closed the door behind him, Cassana finally having the courage to lower her hood. "It's a pleasure to meet you, princess. I must say, I never thought to have royalty in my chambers."
"What lesson is my uncle referring to?" Cassana paced around the room nosily, taking in the sights and smells of the room. She picked up a vial of perfume, the smell too sweet for her tastes as she wrinkled her nose.
"Well, your wedding night of course. M'lord thought I could teach you if you are willing." Cassana was quite surprised though if anyone would arrange this, her uncle would be the culprit.
"So, my uncle has bought your time to teach me in the art of lovemaking?"
"If you'd like to put it that way, your grace. Though the girls and I would explain it in other terms. 'Art of lovemaking' sounds a bit fancy if you ask me." Ros situated herself on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the duvet on the bed.
"How many men have you had?" Cassana blurted out the question before she could think.
Ros chuckled. "More than I can count. M'lady. But that is not what's important. Let me show you." She gestured for Cassana to join her, the princess placing herself delicately on the bed. "What do you know exactly?"
"Only what my mother has told me or the occasional gossip from her ladies. She has basically told me to…sit there and endure." Ros clicked her tongue disapprovingly.
"That is no way for a mother to teach her child. Therefore, husbands are unsatisfied with their wives, and they end up coming to me," Ros relayed. An uneasy expression flittered across Cassana's features, Ros grabbing her hands to assure her. "Robb Stark is not one of those men. It is not in their nature to visit brothels. None of the Starks do, merely Theon."
"Will you show me how to please him? I want to be a good wife."
"A good wife or a good lover?" Ros and Cassana both giggled. "I will make sure that Robb Stark will never want to leave your bed. The heir to Winterfell will be snow melting in the palm of your hand."
Cassana stood on a pedestal for all the ladies of Winterfell to see, the seamstresses putting the final touches on her wedding dress. Her mother had insisted on white cloth lined with gold; the satin fabric thicker than the silk that had been decided on before. It was off the shoulder, the bodice decorated with gold thread and pearl pieces. Cersei had insisted she look like a queen even though she was marrying far beneath her. No bride in Winterfell could ever dream of having a finer gown. You will be the envy of all wives, past and future. A queen of the north in all but name.
Catelyn approved the adjustments of the gown, her kind demeanor a deep contrast to that of the queen's. Cersei paced around her daughter with another chalice of wine in her talons, her eyes sharp and her tongue quick if she disagreed. Cassana could only smile gently at the women kneeling before her, praying they would finish their task soon.
Sansa stared adoringly at her future sister, Myrcella carrying the same look in her green orbs. Both dreamed of their wedding days, hoping they were just as beautiful. They too had new dresses, though not as grand as the bride's. Arya could care less about the whole ordeal, utterly bored and staring out the window wistfully as she watched the men training.
Tommen looked like an enlarged marshmallow; his whole body almost consumed by the pads protecting him. Bran was not far from it, the sight of her younger brother forcing Arya to hold back her laughter. They were uncoordinated, too forceful in their movements, and utterly incompetent. Their wooden swords clanked loudly whenever one struck the other, Bran gaining the upper hand. He was slightly taller and older than the young price, giving him a minor advantage.
"Arya, come away from the window and practice your stitching with the girls." Catelyn's tone was neither commanding nor scolding, her mothering look another to make Arya listen to her mother. She knew better than to argue, but she'd rather listen to her mother than Septa Mordane. The woman was keeping a watchful eye on the other girls, Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel. They both turned snide eyes towards Arya, Sansa's ever faithful friends. They were good girls but were sometime spiteful towards Arya because she was different. She was restless and wild. They were gentle and tame.
Cassana watched the scene with pursed lips. She knew it was merely the childish games of girls, but girls could turn into snakes. Her mother was proof of that. "Arya," she started, the dark-haired Stark staring up at her in confusion. "When we are finished, I should like to see your skill in archery. Your brother says you are the best in Winterfell, and I would like to witness that myself. Why don't you run along, and I will meet you later?" Arya beamed at the praise she received, nodding, and hurrying towards the training grounds with a skip in her step.
"You should not encourage such behavior, golden doe. It is unbecoming of a woman." Cersei's ever severe tongue lashed at Cassana, mother and daughter at odds.
"Father insisted I take up archery and it has benefitted me greatly." Cassana nodded at Alys who moved forward to assist her lady down from the pedestal. "I intend for Arya to have the same advantages, a skill that will protect her."
"There are many weapons a woman has other than a bow and arrow, my love. Beauty for example, though Arya seems to be lacking in that territory. Not like our little dove here." Catelyn forced a smile to her face, her blood running hot at the insult towards her youngest daughter. But she couldn't speak out against the queen. Only Cassana could do that.
"And beauty fades, mother." Blue clashed with green, smirk against scowl. "Are we finished?" The seamstresses shook their heads as an answer, scurrying out of the room at the sight of Cersei's narrowed eyes.
"You are a vision." Cersei mused; her lips stained red from the wine she furiously gulped. She circled Cassana like prey, eyeing every detail, every inch of her daughter as if searching endlessly for a flaw. When she could not find one, her frustration grew. "Visions fade as well, who we were before fades into what we become. What will become of you, Cassana Baratheon?" she pondered. Catelyn thought it was the wine talking as she ushered the younger girls out of the room, but Cassana knew better.
"I will be a Stark." Those words alone made Cersei shiver, a cool tingle running down her spine. She truly looked at her daughter in that moment, as if seeing her for the first time. She was no Lannister. She never had and never would be. And she sneered at her eldest child before striding from the room in muffled anger, her ladies following behind.
"I apologize for my mother's behavior." Cassana was left alone with Alys and Lady Stark, glad for the reprieve. It had been stifling in that room and now the air filled each space greedily. Cersei had sucked every bit of pleasure from her daughter's fitting as she could and now she spoiled had spoiled it.
"There's no need for you to apologize, Cassana. We do not choose our mothers."
"No, but mine is a monster," Cassana admitted. Her eyes watered, but she contained herself and brushed the edge of her sleeve with them before tears could spill. "Robb is blessed to call you mother." She hadn't expected Catelyn to reach out and grasp her hands in her own.
"And I am blessed to call you daughter."
"Would Robb prefer to be married in the godswood?" Catelyn had not expected such a question, but it endeared Cassana to her.
"You should ask him that yourself."
Cassana had removed her wedding garments, Alys and her walking arm in arm down the corridors of Winterfell. The open windows betrayed the light snow that had begun to fall, though it would not stick. But the castle was warm where they were, the heated water from the pools keeping the cold from invading.
The pair passed some pillars enclosed in darkness, unaware of a looming figure. Theon emerged at the end of the hall, Alys sending her mistress a smirk before gallivanting towards the Greyjoy heir. She started to laugh but the sound was replaced with a gasp as a hand emerged from behind one of the pillars and ushered her into the shadows.
Cassana's eyes which had been widened with fear were replaced with familiarity, a grinning Robb chuckling mischievously. Cassana swatted at him with feigned anger, Robb catching her closed fist and brushing his lips against her knuckles. "Did I frighten you that much that you wish to strike your lord?"
Cassana eyes brows raised in amusement. "My lord? I didn't realize we had already said our vows under the weirwood?"
"You wish to be married in the godswood?" Robb's joking tone turned serious. He had pictured a wedding in the sept for as long as could remember. His mother had worshipped the seven and though she had become a lady of the North, she still felt like an outsider whenever she entered the godswood.
"Your mother taught you to worship the seven, your father the old gods. Is it not right to be married before the religion of your forefathers?" Cassana's bright blue eyes fluttered at the touch of Robb's hand as it clutched the side of her face, the pad of his thumb rubbing her cheekbone. The other hand grasped her waist, tugging her towards him while simultaneously backing her against the pillar.
"Do you know how much that means to me? What your words mean to me?" Robb lowered his face to hers and she could smell his intoxicating scent invading her senses.
"I only wish to make you happy." Cassana wrapped her small hand around his wrist, venturing to kiss him lightly before Robb deepened their entanglement. He dared to push further, his mouth moving more fervently against hers and his fingers digging into her roughly. It was as if the hand on her waist betrayed his inner desires while he constrained himself against her lips. But Cassana wanted more, her own hands adjusting around the back of Robb's neck. The auburn curls twisted within her fingers, Robb groaning at the sensation. He pulled back, controlling himself before he scared his bride.
Cassana tried to pull Robb back, but he tensed against her urging. "You need not be afraid of scaring me. I am to be your wife. I know what happens between a man and a woman far more than you think." She thought back to her lesson with Ros, her own personal secret.
"And if I were to take you now, that would dishonor you." Cassana blushed at Robb's forward comment, but she did not falter when she attempted once more to bring him back to her. He conceded that time, giving into her pleading and their lips connected once more. A battle of mouths ensued, Robb winning easily as Cassana pulled away to gasp for air. His lips drew a trail along the corner of her mouth to her right cheek and down the length of her jaw before burying himself in the crook of her neck. Cassana's vision blurred the more he pressed her against the pillar, and she greedily pulled him tight against her.
"You will not dishonor me," Cassana murmured lightly, Robb's lips tickling the skin of her neck as his light beard rubbed the flesh. He stopped his attentions, breathing heavily as he held his face there for a moment to collect himself. His hands now caged Cassana in on all sides, her own hands held his doublet loosely between her fingers.
"I will try not to," Robb admitted, "But you make it awfully hard when you look at me like that…" Their eyes connected once more, Tully and Baratheon blue. He may be a Stark, but he has the Tully looks, the same as his mother. And I a Baratheon who looks like a Lannister. What a pair we are.
Cassana laughed lightly, the noise echoing off the walls like chiming bells. "Then I will attempt from looking in your direction any further," she teased.
"Don't torture me like that," Robb replied, making her laugh harder. He joined in, his low chuckle enough to light up a room. It was warm, a stark contrast to the Stark's usual cold demeanor shown to outsiders.
"Should we join Theon and Alys in the courtyard?" Robb rolled his eyes.
"We should save your lady from any further suggestions Theon makes." The pair emerged from their hiding spot, arm in arm, both laughing at Robb's joke at his closest friend. Alys could handle herself, but Robb only wished to spare Alys any cruder comments. Wandering eyes veered in their direction when they emerged from the keep. To Winterfell, it seemed the betrothed couple was at ease with one another. No, they did not love one another, but they had started to from an attachment.
Cassana Baratheon would soon be a Stark.
Cassana had ventured down to the crypts of Winterfell, her curiosity winning in the end. Her father had insisted on paying his respects when he arrived a few weeks before, the mother I should have had. Cassana could only wonder how things might have turned out differently if Lyanna Stark had lived.
The outside air had snuck into the deep, damp crypts of Winterfell, and Cassana could not prevent an uneasy feeling at the eerie nature of the sacred place. Her furs warmed her body, but her heart felt a dull ache. She walked past the old kings of the North before the late Lord Starks and finally, she reached the tomb of Lyanna Stark. She hadn't dared to look up at her when she passed the first time, too intimated by her looming presence. She started into the darker levels of the vault, peering at the statutes carved in likeness to the tombs they guarded. Iron longswords lay in each lord's lap she noted, keeping vengeful spirits away while the direwolves at their feet also granted protection of some sort. She was not familiar with the old gods.
Cassana gathered the courage to stare into the face of Lyanna Stark and she was taken aback by the wild beauty that stared back at her. If her statue was anything like how she was when she was alive, she would fathom her father thought Lynna Stark more beautiful than Cersei Lannister. She was a gentle beauty, nothing like the sharp features of Cersei Lannister. She reached up, her fingertips grazing the stone cheek of the dead Stark girl who caused a rebellion.
Robert may have fought to demolish the treachery of the Targaryens, but she knew that Lyanna was another reason. Men had gone to war for her, Rhaegar against Robert. To be a woman men would lose their lives for was a war indeed. In the end Robert had won, but Lyanna had already perished. Robert lost his true prize in the end and the Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the emptiness she had left behind.
"You would have looked like her if she were your mother." Cassana had been so mesmerized by Lyanna's statue that she hadn't noticed her father approach her. Robert's eyes were blurred with wetness Cassana didn't fathom her father could produce. Tears were never shed by her father. The fierce and black-bearded Robert Baratheon never cried.
"And if I were her daughter, would I still be marrying Robb Stark? Would I still have existed as your eldest daughter? Who's to say the gods would have eliminated me from existence? Or perhaps I would have been a son." Robert looked forlorn at his daughter's thoughts, imagining a life where Lyanna had lived. He stepped forward, placing an undecipherable object in the statue's hands.
"You would have been our daughter. The gods would not deny me my eldest daughter." Robert's full attention was on Cassana as he stared into his daughter's eyes, the same blue as his. "You may have your mother's looks, but you are my daughter. You are a Baratheon. And you will do your duty to me, not your mother." His gentle tone turned hard, his regular behavior now overshadowing the tender moment between father and daughter.
"Father, I…" Cassana muttered, but faltered. "What was she like?" she gathered the courage to say. His eyes softened again, Robert reaching up to trace the cold stone as if trying to remember her true features.
"She was utterly perfect. Wild but beautiful, nevertheless. She was a true northern woman, none of the Southern stuffiness King's Landing provides. She was nothing like your mother."
"Is that why you hate mother?" Robert had the decency to look ashamed.
"I don't hate your mother, Cassana."
"No, but you despise the Lannisters. You made your marriage out of duty and now you shall have me do the same. All for alliances, for appearances." Cassana cocked her head to the side, making her father flinch under her intense blue gaze. She was his only child to have the same eyes as him and every time he looked at her, he saw himself.
"I loved Lyanna Stark. I hope you come to love Robb for when he admits he loves you, he will do everything in his power to please you. You see how Ned worships Catelyn? That is what I want for you. Of all my children, at least one should marry for love," Robert spoke silently.
"And what makes you think Robb Stark will love me?" Cassana knew Robb was interested in her and she in him, but beyond that, did either of them know what love was? They shared secret kisses in corridors, and both held a flame for the other. But they were not in love. They hardly knew each other.
"Yes," Robert replied with stubbornness. "The men of the North are different. They are devoted to their women. Robb will be no different. Once tied to you he will be loyal to you and only you."
"How can you know a man if you've never spent any time with him?" Cassana questioned. It was hard to determine a man's character. Even if Robb was Ned's son, Robert could only base an opinion on the statements of others. He imagined the son was an image of the father.
"He has asked me to forbid the bedding ceremony. And I have agreed." Cassana's head snapped up, her blue eyes widening.
"Who?"
Robert chuckled. "With as much time as you've spent with the boy, I had hoped you would understand that your betrothed is as serious as his father. Ned threatened to strangle anyone who suggested a bedding ceremony the night of his and Cat's wedding. He said it would ruin the wedding if he had to punch one of his men. And Robb has asked the same for you. He cares far more for your security than tradition. Though you are a princess—I would have throttled anyone who touched you other than the Stark boy."
"Thank you, father," Cassana muttered, relieved yet embarrassed she was having this conversation with her father. She hadn't expected him to cradle her face in his bare hands, the calluses rubbing roughly against her cheeks. Robert Baratheon was a large man, towering over his daughter. Robert was well over six feet with his Baratheon genes. Cersei herself was a tall woman. But Cassana stood at a mere five feet five inches and was slightly intimidated by her father's height.
"I know you heard your mother and myself again. Must I remind you that is not a burden for a daughter to carry. To have Eddard Stark tell me he carried my daughter into his own child's rooms…" Cassana's eyes were glued to the cold stone floor of the crypts, feeling as if she had buried herself in her own grave.
"How well do you know your own wife, father?" Cassana felt the hands of her father tense, his jaw tightening in irritation.
"Cassana, you cross the line about your mother—"
"Answer me." Robert remained silent.
Cassana pulled back, Robert releasing his grip on her. "She's born you five children, though only four of us remain. You've been married 17 years. Her brother is a member of your Kingsguard. But do you truly know her?" Robert's eyes resembled a forever lasting storm, clashing emotions and battling waves mimicked by his red face and furrowed brow. He went to answer, but the sound of footsteps interrupted him.
"My apologies, my lord." The familiar sound of Ned Stark echoed in the caverns of the crypt. "I came to visit my father and my siblings."
"All is forgiven, Ned. I was paying my own respects…again."
Cassana had not dared to glance at her future goodfather, entranced by the statue of Lyanna Stark once more. To be worshipped for so long, to have such devotion, she was a woman to be admired even in death. But for men to place her on a pedestal warranted enemies, enemies like her mother. Grey connected with blue, Ned waiting for Cassana to leave the men. "I can see when my presence is no longer needed." Ned had the courtesy to bow his head as she passed, uttering a 'princess' as well.
Cassana barely made a sound as she departed the crypts, a stark comparison to the Lord of Winterfell. Her feet tiptoed even though she wore winter boots, and she pulled her fur lined cloak tighter. But before she could think, she spoke. "I hope I am not reduced to a ghost of a memory. That is a fate far worse than death." She regretted it the moment the words fell from her lips.
The heated gaze of her father and the cold stare of Ned Stark ushered Cassana out of the crypts. She shivered when a cool breeze penetrated her like frozen icicles. It startled her, knocking the air back into her lungs. She clung to the stones of the entrance of the crypt, trying to catch her breath. But when the whisper of voices entered her ear, she was frozen.
The wolf will lose its footing among a pride of lions and the raven will be revealed. The crown of gold will be shaken from its perch, but another shall be forged under red and silver.
The words repeated in Cassana's head, her other senses overpowered by the whispers. She clutched her head, her vision blurring as she struggled to stand. As soon as the words started, they stopped. The mind numbing pain stopped instantly, and she regained her sight. It was eerily familiar, the voice that had spoken.
And yet, Cassana could not fathom the first time she had heard the beautiful sound.
Cassana could hear the cruel tone of Joffrey's voice before she could see him, her body fuming as he screamed at Tommen for losing another sword fighting match against Bran. It was not Tommen's fault he was inexperienced and not given the chance to train with the renowned master of arms of Winterfell.
"You are a bloody prince, not some mewling kitten-." Cassana turned the corner to see Joffrey had pinned Tommen against one of the arches leading into the keep, away from view. He was a coward, scolding him away from the prying eyes of others as he berated his poor brother. Tommen struggled under Joffrey's grip, protesting when his older brother turned his wrist in the wrong direction. It made him whimper in pain while Joffrey smirked in delicious pleasure at his brother's torture.
"Joffrey, release Tommen now." Cassana did not hesitate as she spoke boldly to her brother, the golden prince spotting her in his peripheral vision.
"This does not concern you, sweet sister. Why don't you return to your sewing lessons with the Septa while I teach our brother a lesson. Or do I need to remind you what happens when you disagree with me?" Joffrey smoke in a sickly sweet tone. Cassana bit her lip, remembering what happened the past week at supper.
"You let a bastard escort you to dinner?" Joffrey's voice echoed around the great hall, silencing everyone within as Jon Snow escorted the Baratheon princess to dinner.
"I asked a man of the house of Stark if he would escort me to dinner." Cassana was straight to the point. She had seen Jon wandering the hall, most likely banned from dinner by Lady Stark. Yet, when she confronted him about his absence, he blushed and remained silent. He was not used to speaking to girls, let alone princesses. She requested he escort her to dinner, and he grinned from ear to ear.
"He's a Snow, a bastard. He is not fit to kiss the shoes on your feet." Joffrey scoffed, insulted at Jon's presence.
Cassana's blue eyes narrowed at her brother's lowly thinking. He was vain, a side effect of their mother's doting. "You'll come to learn brother, there are many qualities that make you a great king. Cruelty and narcissism will never help. And you are far from being king."
"You can't speak to me like that. I won't allow it." Joffrey yanked her roughly towards him, her arm aching from the harsh treatment. Jon attempted to come to her defense, but Cassana pleaded with her eyes for her future husband's brother to not intervene.
An excuse was hurriedly muttered from Cassana's mouth. "Joffrey, I only meant—"
"Shut your mouth, boy. It would suit you well to learn a lesson of humility." Robert had viewed the indiscretion from his place on the high table, Cersei's cat-like green eyes scrutinizing. Her lips were pursed in her rather dignified manner or rather narcissistic as she nonverbally scolded Cassana for her mistake.
"You shouldn't let Cassana speak to Joffrey that way. She should know her place." Joffrey was at fault for his outburst, but Cersei clearly denied her son was to be berated for such a mistake. Jon would be the victim Cassana noted, Lady Stark speaking in hushed whispers to her husband. Her dislike for her husband's son was clear enough, her Tully blue eyes gentle nature replaced with sharp daggers.
Robert always rose to the challenge, arguing with Cersei again. "And you should have taught the boy to hold his tongue. Enough. Cassana was right to scold the boy. All you ever do is coddle him." Cersei felt embarrassment slide over the whole of her body as she endured the slight from her husband publicly. But Cassana would feel her wrath later, in private and away from prying eyes.
"I'm sorry, Joffrey. Forgive me." Cassana reached out to touch Joffrey's shoulder, but he brushed her off. He strut from the hall. The hound trailing behind. In her attempt to reconcile with Joffrey, she worried he would turn his attentions to Sansa. The damage had been done. Joffrey now regarded her with caution.
"I said release him," Cassana repeated, Joffrey's deadly gaze sliding over to his sister. He raised his hand before she could comprehend what was happening.
A scream ripped through the training yard and the hairs on the nape of Robb's neck stood up. The noise alarmed him, and his blue orbs darkened as he scanned his surroundings. The other men halted as well for it was a scream of terror, not of humor or delight. A scream that sounded like a wife or a daughter or a granddaughter. A scream of pain.
Theon was the first to see Cassana, cowering on the ground as Joffrey stared back with a satisfied smirk. He went to strike again but was stopped by the strangest sound. He faltered, his vicious green eyes widening with fear. But he would never admit he was scared. Cassana saw right through him.
A growl tore from Robb's chest as he barreled over to the royal children. His rage flared, his grip tightening over the hilt of his blade. Rodrik, the master of arms, had decided after the incident with Prince Joffrey that steel would be permitted. Before Robb could make a drastic decision, Cassana had bolted to her feet and stopped him.
"No. Robb don't." Cassana's voice was imploring, Robb's focus on Joffrey turning to his bride. The Stark temper faltered at her bedraggled appearance. An angry red mark was evident on the side of her face, but Joffrey had not aimed his swing across her cheek. Her lip had been split, a trickle of blood running down her chin. Her nose had also been victim to the force, bleeding as well. They were to be married in a few days' time and her brother had injured her, beaten her even.
Cassana gripped his doublet tightly, terrified Robb would raise arms against her brother and invoke the wrath of her father. Her hand drifted down, forcing him to release his hold on his sword when her begging blue orbs met his own. It fell to the dirt with a clang and the free hand reached up tenderly to assess the damage. She flinched away from his touch, Robb's arm that had wrapped around her waist now pushing against the small of her back in hidden rage. He dared peek over Cassana's shoulder and was met with a quivering excuse for a future king.
The protective side of Robb showed, the impregnable wall of Stark emotions crumbling as he gathered Cassana into his arms. She whimpered when he swept her off her feet, carrying her bridal style as he stalked past Joffrey. But not without sending him a withering glare and a final comment. "Touch her again…" he threatened. Joffrey had the decency to look petrified, but it was soon swapped with a scoff for the sake of the audience. He disappeared into the crowd, a shocked Tommen remaining behind in his brother's hasty retreat. He had watched the scene with wide eyes, Bran now standing at his side as their stares fixated on Robb and Cassana.
Cassana's blurred vision prevented her from seeing the location Robb was taking her to, various pieces of stone and open windows indicating they were inside the keep. She closed her eyes momentarily but was jostled by Robb as he dashed down the hall. He looked apprehensive, scanning her face every few moments. She adjusted herself, her arms wrapped around his neck while she buried her face against his chest. His hold tensed at her closeness, and they rounded another corner.
"Where are we going?" Cassana mumbled.
"Somewhere safe." Cassana muffled a sarcastic laugh against his chest.
"Anywhere within the vicinity of Joffrey is not safe." Robb frowned deeply. His father's words echoed in his head.
"With me, I promise you will always be safe." Cassana could hear the determination, the deep tenor of Robb Stark urging her into what she felt was a false state of security. She was used to broken promises. He finally reached a chamber door, Cassana confused. They were in the halls of the Stark chambers. Somehow, he managed to push the door open without setting her down and she sucked in a breath if alarm. They were in Robb's personal chambers. Her eyes darted from the masculine furnishings spread through the room: the simple writing desk in the corner of the room, a cabinet against the wall with candles and the Stark house emblem hung on the wall, a tapestry of a wolf pack with a candelabra at the edge, a stand for armor and weapons placed next to a burning hearth, and a trunk placed at the foot of a great bed covered in various furs.
Cassana blushed when Robb set her down at the foot of the bed, kneeling before her. She felt his gaze penetrate her and she fidgeted slightly. She was being studied. She was used to the accusing gaze of her mother, but Robb was another matter entirely. She half expected him to start lecturing her but was pleasantly surprised when he attended to her. He stood from his position before her, and she watched as he grabbed a cloth from the cabinet. A bowl and pitcher had been placed on a chest of drawers and he dampened the cloth, turning to Cassana as he reached to wiped her face of blood.
Cassana's face reddened. She knew she was a mess, her hair in a state of disarray, her clothes disheveled, and her face covered in blood. But Robb did not care as he gently wiped her face. The bowl of water turned clear to a muddled red as he rinsed the cloth and repeated the process. "Maester Luwin will have to prepare an ointment, but I don't think any stiches will be needed."
"I'll be ruined for our wedding. It's all anyone will talk about. I'll have bruises and my lip…The spoiled bride."
"Don't say such things." Robb cut her off harshly. She was not ruined to him. She was beautiful even in her current dilemma. He wanted nothing more than to wring Joffrey's neck. "I apologize. My anger is not directed at you." He set down the cloth, running his hands though his reddish brown curls. "No one should hit a woman. Has he done this before?"
"No. This was the first time." Robb nodded, deep in thought. He was standing over her, leaning slightly on the post closest to him on the four-poster bed. Cassana sat on the edge of her bed, staring up at him innocently.
"This is the first time we've truly been alone together. Did you realize?" Cassana's harmless question made Robb hot, and he was suddenly burning in his doublet and breeches. He had discarded his fur cloak while he was training. The exercise made him warm. But the weight of the situation he had put himself in was now making it feel like the heat of a thousand suns were coursing through his veins.
Cassana smiled, a mischievous, all-knowing smile that lit up her eyes. She had a secret spark to her Robb comprehended and he couldn't help but chuckle at her behavior. "Yes, we are." He answered. He couldn't pinpoint what reaction she was trying to get out of him nor what she was going to say next. He never knew what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers. She was always a step ahead of him, a step out of reach.
"We could marry in secret, just the two of us. And Alys and Theon could be witnesses. All we need is a septon, willing or not. He could be persuaded." Robb gave Cassana an incredulous look. "My father…My father said that you were different. That Northerners honor their women, far more than any Southern lord. My fathers had many mistresses, too many to count. And I will admit that I am not against the idea of our marriage being—"
"Successful." Robb finished.
"Respect turns to love," Cassana retorted. "I am not opposed to loving the future Lord of Winterfell," Cassana teased. Love, such a strange concept to Robb. He had never been in love. He wouldn't deny he respected Cassana and that he thought her attractive. But love? "You think me outspoken for thinking such thoughts. Forgive me."
Robb reached down, lifting her chin up so he could look directly into her eyes as he spoke. "You do not have to apologize to me for such things. I too have had my own ideas about marriage. My mother and father for instance. Their marriage was made from alliances. I was born before the end of the war. And when my father returned, he had Jon. My parents barely knew each other but when they reunited, my father vowed to never dishonor my mother again and their marriage is stronger than anything I've ever seen. Their duty grew into love." Cassana swallowed hard, urging herself to stand before Robb. She stood so close their noses brushed and she could hear his voice catch in his throat.
"Is it wrong for me to wish the same for us?" Robb pressed his forehead against hers, his hands holding her waist as he gathered the courage to speak. Her hands on his chest beckoned him forward. He shook his head and Cassana smirked.
Robb reached sweet relief when Cassana finally tipped her head forward and rewarded him by pressing her lips to his.
A/N: Comments? Reviews?
