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 14!

Golden Sin

She had been having visions again. She could smell Winterfell; She could taste the north on her tongue. Moving swiftly across the ground, she could hear the snow crunch underneath her feet, but they weren't her feet. They were summers as she crept around the halls of the cold, dark keep, and made her way to her master.

Bran had been asleep among the furs and the warmth of the hearth, Summer settled at the door of his bed. Footsteps echoed across the floor, the image of brown suede boots coming into view. A fur cloak trailed behind, magnificent and exaggerated at the collar. Gold eyes trailed upwards towards the breastplate engraved with the direwolf sigil.

And the low, rumbling voice of Robb Stark spoke to Bran. He had no idea the image behind Summer's golds were Cassana, but Bran knew. He had been awakened from his own dream, the crypts of Winterfell lingering behind his eyelids as he bid farewell to Robb.

And when Rickon emerged from the darkness, Shaggydog attached to the hip, she knew the fear he felt. No one was coming home. Not Ned. Not Cat. Not the girls. And Robb…. He marched south to war and uncertainty.

"I saw Cassana, next to Aunt Lyanna…"

"Robb will be looking for you, Rickon. Don't say such things when you see him."
"You don't understand. She was stone."

"Stone?"

"She was cold and stone. And there was another next to her. Robb knelt next to them."

Moonlight flooded the solar, her hands tightening around the fur stole she had covered her shoulders with. Cassana breathed in the scent of the north, her hand muffling her sobs as she cried. She stood on the balcony of her rooms, turning to watch Sansa in a fitful sleep. She too had been crying, her red curls matching the red rings around her eyes. The sheets of the bed were tossed about, and pillows covered the stone floor, a mirror of their inner turmoil.

She thoughtfully pondered the letter she clutched in her trembling grip. My love he had called her. Robb loved her. And neither had said the words to each other when they parted. And though the contents had no indication of mistrust, Cassana knew the words were untruthful. We shall take the Kingsroad to the Eyrie before dividing our army into two. Half will proceed towards Riverrun the other towards Dragonstone to meet forces with your uncle. Robb would never blatantly tell her his plans. He was too cunning for that, but Cersei believed otherwise. She underestimated the wolf. Lysa Arryn would never lend her army to Robb, nor would Robb unseat his wife in favor of her uncle.

Cassana couldn't cry in front of Sansa. She had to be strong, for Sansa and for her child. Her hand clutched her belly, cursing herself. She had been pregnant when she left Winterfell, but she had been clueless to the signs. And now they were trapped in the Red Keep.

The door to her chambers opened, a dark shadow entering before stepping into the moonlight. Blonde and bronze, a charming smile was sent in Cassana's direction, and she frowned deeply. There had always been something so terrifying about his smile, like he could beguile you and destroy you within the same breath. "When I heard I had been summoned by the queen, I was quite surprised. First Tywin Lannister making me the castellan of Casterly Rock before submitting to his granddaughter's orders to have me sent to King's Landing. You must truly need me for him to abandon his orders, cousin."

"Uncle Kevan can handle the war effort from Casterly Rock as well as Lannisport. Besides, I would think you would view this as an opportunity for yourself. Or do you not see it as such?" Cassana retorted. He chuckled, his dark eyes roaming her figure.

"And yet something tells me you have also seized an opportunity for yourself and sacrificed yourself in the process? Where is your northern husband?"

"You hold your tongue, Gulian." Laughter still filled his gaze as he regarded his cousin in a composed manner. It irritated Cassana greatly, the way he always seemed to be laughing and yet calm at the same time. But he was her favorite cousin, their late uncle Gerion's only legitimate child. And he never sought out Tywin's favor, just like her late uncle.

"Is that the Stark daughter? Little Red?" Cassana nodded, noticing the way he already granted her a nickname.

"Sansa," she spoke. Gulian's eyes roved her from as well, his brown orbs displaying a hint of pity. He was not heartless like the other Lannisters. "I gather you've accepted my offer."

"Would I be here if I didn't?" He flashed another smile at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Besides, you know how much my presence bothers Cersei. I think she hates me."

"She hates how similar you are to Jaime, but you have far more morals than he ever will." Gulian was the gallant knight, the suave Lannister that attracted the attention of many maidens. A trail of broken hearts could lead back to him. He acted like he didn't care, like he was better than them all. But deep down, Cassana knew he cared deeply. And it was all an act. It was all an attempt to be the perfect Lannister.

Gulian scoffed. "The key, cousin, is act like you have no scruples. Then they will fear you."

"You mask your conscience well. That's why I've asked you here," Cassana spoke.

"Not as your pet?" he jested. His lips curled into a devilish smirk.

"I've asked Ser Barristan to be head of my personal guard. I shall like to have you as my own hand. Can there not be a Hand of the Queen?" Cassana asked.

Gulian stepped forward, daring to adjust the fur stole around her shoulders. "You can do as you please, with Joffrey's permission."

Cassana's blues were defiant. "I don't need Joffrey's permission for anything."

"Then I suggest you keep all traces of Winterfell hidden away." Gulian sent her one more haughty look before he sauntered away, his curiosity winning in the end as he spared another glance at the sleeping red-haired beauty. He would not oust her to her family. She could trust him to well-guard her secret. But he halted, turning slightly to watch her reaction.

His eyes drifted to her stomach. She was not round with child, but the bloating was obvious if you paid attention. "If that includes your child, I would rather you not tell me so I can be blissfully ignorant about the entire matter." She remained stone cold. "Have you told Joffrey, yet?"

"It is to be his wedding present," she stated coolly.

He nodded his head. "Goodnight, cousin." He shut the door behind him, Cassana letting out the breath she was holding.

"The boy may hang back or lose his courage when he sees our numbers," Lord Tywin replied. "The sooner the Starks are broken, the sooner I shall be free to deal with Stannis Baratheon. Tell the drummers to beat assembly and send word to Jaime That I am marching against Robb Stark."

Robb had dreamed of her that night, blonde and beautiful as the dawn rose above the horizon. They were back in Winterfell, the snowflakes falling gradually from the sky. Summer snows he had explained to her, Cassana giggling as he pressed kisses against her shoulder blades before descending to her neck. "Someone is ticklish," Robb teased, earning himself another precious noise he had taken for granted. He swore he could smell the floral oils she used during her baths, his mouth salivating.

He took her then, thrusting into her from behind while she muttered his name in rapture. "Robb, Robb, Robb…" He loved the way she repeated his name over and over again, like she was praying. Nothing excited him more. He bore his weight in his palms as he intertwined his fingers with hers against the mattress. Her delicate features were hidden from him through, and he suddenly decided he'd rather enjoy the heat between her legs as he watched her.

Flipping her around, he lowered himself to her center while her legs wrapped around him tightly. Cassana rewarded him with another moan, clinging to him as she sought his lips. He keenly complied, their mouths meeting in a passionate kiss while their bodies reached their releases.

Robb's dream had sustained him in battle, meeting the Lannister army by surprise in the Whispering Woods. He had consented to Lord Frey's terms, his army crossing the bridge at the twins. The toll was yet to be paid in full. Olyvar Frey was his squire, Arya had yet to be found nor would she be happy she was betrothed to a Frey, and lastly, when Cassana was returned to him, their eldest son would marry a Frey girl. Stark or Baratheon, the child will marry one of my blood. Unless you would like to make a marriage proposal of your own.

"By the time they knew what was happening, it had already happened." Theon spoke with a smirk on his features as the Greatjon through Jaime Lannister to the ground, the kingslayer looking up on bended knees.

"Lady Stark. I'd offer my sword, but I seem to have lost it," Jaime muttered sarcastically, his greens glinting.

"It is not your sword I want. Give me my daughters back. Give me my husband. Give me Cassana Baratheon."

"I've lost them too, I'm afraid. And as for Cassana, she is not yours. She is not your son's. She is the crowns property, and you shall not have her." His expression was haughty, and Robb's jaw tightened.

"Kill him Robb. Send his head to his father. He cut down ten of our men. You saw him," Theon declared.

Robb glared dangerously at the Kingslayer, his blues almost black at the sight of his wife's uncle. "He's more use to us alive than dead. Take him away and put him in irons."

"We could end this war right now, boy. Save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks. I fight for the Lannisters. Swords, lances, teeth, nails…choose your weapon. And let's end this here and now." Robb despised the mocking tone when he said boy. Everyone called him that and yet, he was the acting Lord Stark while his father sat imprisoned in the dungeons of King's Landing.

"If we do it your way kingslayer, you'd win." Robb sneered at the man he most loathed in the world. He had tried to kill his brother. And sister held his other family in the capital. "We're not doing it your way. Just as your niece described, I knew you would offer up the challenge. And she urged me to refuse not because you are the greatest swordsman to live. That distinction belongs to Ser Barristan in her opinion. But because you would have no honor in the fight. You would stab me in the back like you did Aerys Targaryen. And you would call it honor. Pitiful. You have none."

"And I suppose your way is the best? Let me tell you something, Robb Stark. Cassana would never have married you if Robert hadn't allowed it. A coward just like your father. You're not worthy of something so precious. And before you reach King's Landing, she will already be married to Joffrey. And you'll be left with nothing but your empty promises and empty hands. You can't offer her anything she doesn't already have."

"Would you like to see my letters?"

"Speak up, boy." Jaime retorted.

Quick as a flash Robb lunged for the kingslayer, ripping him upwards. Jaime merely smirked at the rise he had gained from his opponent, but he was not prepared for what Robb was about to speak. Barely above a whisper, Robb spoke clearly and boldly as his face hovered in front of Jaime's. "Would you like to see the dozens of letters Cassana has sent me? Would you like to see the advice she had given me before I crushed your army? She told me to never engage in battle with you alone and I do not take that warning lightly. In fact, I value her opinion as high as my advisors. You call me a coward when I heed my wife's own words?"

Jaime's eyes clouded with confusion for he could not fathom how Cassana would manage to secure a letter to the eldest Stark. Unless the council were in her favor and under her thumb. Either Varys or Littlefinger would act in her interest if they saw the value in supporting her as queen rather than Cersei. And from what Cersei had written, Cassana adored Joffrey even if she had her doubts.

"Cassana would not betray Joffrey for the likes of you Stark. She is loyal to her brother, to her king."

"As you are loyal to your son?" Robb questioned. "Your bastard? And you condone the behavior he has displayed towards Cassana just as you have done with your sister?"

"What the king wants the king gets." Robb reeled back, punching Jaime square in the jaw before the man collapsed. Blood spewed from his lips and he chuckled under his breath as he regained himself. "Sore subject."

"Take him away," Robb growled, the Greatjon hoisting the Lannister heir to his feet and dragging him to his cage.

He didn't see the trembling form of the young wolf as Robb struggled with the image of his wife making love to another man.

Did you teach him wisdom as well as valor, Ned? She wondered. Did you teach him how to kneel? The graveyards of the Seven Kingdoms were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson.

Cassana sat quietly next to Ned as he sipped the from the wineskin, she had brought him. He had been too weak to nibble at the bread and cheese she had smuggled from the kitchens. The jailer had turned a blind eye when she handed him a purse of gold as big as his fist, unlocking the cell immediately and stepping away to allow her the privacy she bought. He cowered at the glare in her blazing blues, more terrifying than Cersei's he thought.

"Robb has taken Jaime prisoner. And my grandfather has been fooled."

"And how did you ever manage that?" Ned asked, coughing slightly. His skin was ashen and his voice hoarse. She frowned at his paling complexion and deteriorating form.

"I've managed to smuggle letters to him. You forget I have spies too, my lord. Littlefinger has his deviants, Varys his little birds…I have mine as well. Less obvious if I say so myself. Mother doesn't even know, or she pretends not to know."

"And Joffrey? How have you managed to keep him at bay in your condition?"

"Mother. She proposed we keep separate chambers which I am more than happy to comply with." Cassana swallowed hard, Ned noticing her distress. "I haven't told him yet. I won't have to if Robb makes it here."

"And how will you convince him the child is his if Robb is halted in his advance?"

"It's been taken care of." Ned held back the bile that threatened to spill.

"You laid with your brother?" He accused her.

"He thinks I laid with him," she corrected. "I will not degrade myself, I will not betray my marriage vows, and I certainly will only ever lay with my husband," she emphasized. "I had to take the risk or else who knows what Joffrey would do."

"How?"

"Many herbs are known for their ability to lull someone into a deep sleep, some more potent than others. I won't lie to you. Before the draught took effect, I had to ease him into it." Cassana twirled her rings around her fingers and bit her lip harshly. Ned covered her hands with his.

"You did what you had to, to protect yourself, to protect the child."

"I dream of killing him, of stabbing him at the dinner table, of slitting his throat while he's sleeping, or pressing a pillow against his face…And when I wake up, I realize he's still breathing. And if I ever tried to do such a thing, mother would blame me. She'd kill me. That is not beneath her. I am the only remaining piece of her relationship with my father. She'd kill me before letting anything happen to the others." She laughed to herself, covering her mouth as she muffled the noise. Ned studied her quietly, his greys analyzing her intently. She smiled when she looked at him, not deranged, but clearly not well. "I could do it. I'm not afraid to kill him. Does that make me a murderer?"

Ned shook his head. "It makes you a warrior, like your father."

"She loves the others more than me. At first, I hardly noticed. But after Tommen was born it became quite evident. She singled me out from them, making me seem different. Like I didn't deserve her praise. She only claimed me when it benefited her. And grandfather, he scolded her like a child for it." Red-faced and eyes slit, Cersei had taken her father's verbal shame and stalked from the room like a beaten animal. Cassana was his favorite while Cersei had never been worthy.

"You're a reminder to her. That is her burden if she chooses it to be so," Ned spoke softly. "But if she harms you, she risks losing her hold on the Seven Kingdoms. She kills you and she loses everything. She has the Martells coming from the South, Stannis from Dragonstone, and Robb from the North. She has enemies breathing down her neck, but you are her greatest enemy. She fears you the most, Cassana. Your potential."

"And what of you?" Cassana questioned.

"What of me?"

"She'll keep you alive. She's not an idiot. She has made Sansa plead for your life. She has whispered lies upon lies into Joffrey's ear. If you proclaim your guilt in front of the Sept of Balor, she must deliver on her promise. Either keep you and Sansa captive or send you to Castle Black," Cassana relayed.

"And what have you spoken of to Joffrey? You think he will listen to your mother?" Joffrey was spoiled, vindictive, and entitled, all nurtured by Cersei from the moment she held him to her breast. And he looked to her as his encouragement.

"My mother and I are very similar. I have her looks, her beauty even. But I'm not vain. There are women far more beautiful than me. I have her sharp tongue, but I only strike when I'm provoked. I'm not accustomed to being cruel. But I have one weapon she cannot use against him for only I possess that. Or would a mother open her legs for her son?" Ned briefly looked uncomfortable, but she wasn't wrong.

The pair were silenced by frantic steps heading their way and a torch lit up the furious features of Joffrey as he glued his possessive gaze on Cassana. The Hound lingered behind him as well as other members of the Kingsguard. "Mother said you were conversing with the traitor, but I wouldn't believe her until I laid eyes on you." His greens were vicious, Ned sliding further away from the cell door in pain as Joffrey entered. He yanked Cassana up from the ground, dragging her behind him. Cassana could only stumble behind, casting a final look to her husband's father as he was left in darkness. He was fearful, his hands gripping the metal bars as he greys followed her.

"Joffrey, you're hurting me," she muttered. But Joffrey didn't seem to care. His grip tightened as the ascended from the dungeon caverns into the sunlit hallways of Maegor's Keep.

Ser Barristan appeared, protesting her treatment but he was instantly ignored and cut off by the white cloaks, barred from reaching her. Joffrey soon threw her into his chambers, Cassana catching herself before she fell. He circled her like prey, Cassana watching his feet as he edged around her. "You think you can defy me? You think you can sneak into the dungeons to converse with the enemy, and I wouldn't know about it?"

"I would never question your intelligence, my love. But I only wish to understand why he spoke against you, why he would say such hurtful things." Cassana reached out to touch him, but Joffrey flinched, his spiteful gaze filled with hurt. "It is as Sansa said. He does not remember what he spoke because of the milk of the poppy. It pains me that mother would turn you against me. Do you not trust me?" she feigned rejection, a glimmer of guilt appearing on his haughty features.

"Don't you see what she's doing? She thinks she can control you. She thinks she can keep us apart. She's already ordered we have separate bedchambers now. What will she do when we are married? Will you let her order me about? Will you let her treat me this way?" She could see the resolve in his eyes fading at her presence, her words forcing him to let his guard down. She rose to her feet, placing her hands on his chest. She plead with her eyes as his hands sought her waist.

"No," Joffrey retorted. "She can't tell me what to do."

"Everything I do is for you and you alone." Cassana hands drifted downwards, and he gasped when she reached the top of his breeches. She sent him a coy smile before gracefully placing herself at the edge of his bed. She adjusted her curls over her shoulders, her back to her brother while he held a malicious look on his face.

"She is right though. We can't touch each other before the wedding, but we can do other things." He watched her, Cassana drawing the shoulders of her dress down to reveal the fragile skin he so eagerly sought. "But you can touch yourself." She turned her face to peer behind her, lowering her eyes to his member briefly. "Can you finish just by looking at me, my love? Can you finish to the sound of my voice, to the sight of my naked body? Show me that you love me."

Joffrey was quick to please, lunging for the bed with zeal while he unlaced his breeches. "No touching," she reminded him. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and heard his grunts as he started to pump himself. Her hands lingered across the top of her breasts, luring him closer. If he touched her, she would smack his hand and remind him she could halt his fun.

"I wish your hands were touching my breasts and playing with me. I love the feel of your hands against my flesh." Joffrey moaned at her words, peering down the valley between her round globes. She had yet to remove her corset, slowly drawing each string down and exposing more and more skin. He stroked faster and faster.

"And when you're inside me…I could die." He shuddered behind her, and she knew he was done, his lips pressing swiftly against her shoulder in release.

"I swear I'll die if I can't have you soon," Joffrey declared, adjusting himself while his erratic breathing made her shiver in disgust.

When Cassana turned to look at him, she was met with the livid face of Cersei and the quivering form of Sansa.

Arya could see the smoke hovering above her brother's camp, and she urged herself closer to the horizon. She forced herself to drag her feet further and seeing her struggle, Torren lifted her onto his shoulders. Tired and hungry, they had made it to Robb unscathed. Though there had been a price.

Ambushed in the night, the Stark men wearing Baratheon colors defended Arya with their lives. A scouting party had spotted them and questioned them, one of the men recognizing Arya under the dirt and grime that covered her. "You have something we want." He lunged forward, driving a spear through one of the men's stomachs. Arya was ushered away as Torren paid the man back in full, slitting his throat with no hesitation.

The other Lannister men were killed just as swiftly. Steel rang on steel, but the Stark men gained the upper hand and slaughtered the lions like the wolves they were. There was savagery in their work, all men hung from trees as a warning. Their bodies swayed in the wind; the nooses tight around their necks just as death had encircled them. Arya didn't look away. She was a Stark and the wolf's blood ran strong. Just as Bran had not strayed when he saw their father execute the deserter, Arya would not close her eyes at the sight of war.

Catelyn had been the first to see her, clutching her youngest daughter to her chest and refusing to release her. Arya would have pushed her away if she were not so exhausted, hating being smothered by her mother. But she welcomed the affection, feeling the emotions of the past weeks spill over. She cried begrudgingly into her mother, clinging to her dress like a shadow. "Cassana…Cassana…" She tried to speak but her throat closed under pressure.

Cat cradled her face. "What about her? What about Sansa and your father?"

"She snuck me out. She found me and passed me to Torren—." Cat shot a grateful look over Arya's shoulder, the man nodding in respect. "She told me she needed to find Sansa. But when she didn't meet us, we had to leave. We went through the tunnels in Maegor's Keep and came out on the beach. And then the bells started ringing. The bells…"

"And what of this?" Cat spoke, gesturing towards the steel at her hip.

"Needle," Arya replied. "Jon gave me needle. I killed the stableboy…He would have brought me to the queen."

Cat cried. "Oh, my poor girl. What have they done to you?" She lovingly attempted to wipe the filth from her daughter's face. She needed a bath, perhaps two from the way she smelled. She wrinkled her nose and Arya let a sly smirk appear.

"Mother?" The rumbling voice of her brother drew Arya's greys upwards, and she rushed into his arms, leaving their mother emptyhanded as she watched her children embrace.

"Robb! Oh Robb, we have to free father. We must reach him." Robb stared down at his sister, arms wrapped around his middle as she stared up him imploringly. He bore no expression on his face. He was cold, hardened by the exigence surrounding him. He was no longer Robb, future Lord of Winterfell, and her brother. He was Robb the war commander, the young wolf.

"It's not as simple as that, Arya, The Lannisters are everywhere. There are battles to be fought, there's a war to be won." Robb knelt before her, holding her arms firmly. "How did you escape?" His eyes glanced over the men behind her briefly before he pocked eyes with her once more.

"Cassana scared me, pulled me from the hall into the secret tunnels. I didn't even know she was there. No one did. And she told me to go with Torren while she went to find Sansa." Arya bit her tongue and Robb studied her change. She was hiding Something from him. He already guessed Cassana had been unable to escape with Sansa or else the pair would have been there.

"What is it? What do you know?" Arya had never seen weakness in her brother's eyes, desperation as he waited for her to speak. She shuffled her feet, drawing the letter from one of her pockets.

"Don't be angry with me. I was only curious." Arya handed the precious parcel to Robb, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the broken seal and the guilty expression on his sister's face. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble. She told me to give the letter to you and only you. She made no mention that I couldn't read it to."

"I'm not angry with you, Arya. Just relieved you are safe," he admitted as he tucked the letter into his jerkin for safekeeping. He would read the contents in private, craving the words of his beloved wife. All the others he had received were from her spies, not from her own hand. If she were to be caught, the consequences would be dire. He only hoped nothing explicit had been written, but judging by Arya's countenance, it was not.

"I thank you for guarding my sister with your life. You shall each be rewarded duly for your efforts and the risk you undertook in delivering her to me," Robb addressed Torren and the other men of the North.

"I only wish the Lady Sansa and your wife had been returned to you as well. Princess…Queen Cassana is a rare woman, my lord. She will find her way back to you, I am sure of it." Robb swallowed at his statement. He had yet to accept the fact his wife was indeed queen. Regardless of the inheritance laws, Robert had declared on his deathbed that Stannis and Renly would be passed over in favor of his daughter. He had broken tradition and spat in his brother's faces for the sake of his only child. But it mattered not. Stannis and Renly had each taken up arms in their individual names respectively. And Robb shunned away from the matter of kingship entirely, he loathed the entity in which kept his wife prisoner in her own kingdom. He did not want it, the power, the control, the burden. And yet it had been thrust upon him unexpectedly.

"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

A/N: Comments? Feedback?