Chapter Text
I spent the next few days outdoors, despite the rain. If I were being truthful, the rain is what made me go outside. It was nice to get out of the stuffy castle and into my routine as a fighter. I attempted to use the time to train with the other men, although it proved difficult because no one wanted to spar with a queen. One little tap with the flat of my sword and the soldier would yield.
After days of several failed sparring endeavors, I moved on to the training dummies. It was not nearly as beneficial as a normal squabble, but it did allow me to get more than one swing in. It also gave me the opportunity to meet the younger soldiers that were still learning the basics. With both Rodrick and Syrio going North with Ned, there had not been a designated master-at-arms for this unit. Unsurprisingly, thanks to my inability to say no, I found myself filling the vacant role.
That’s where I was, correcting a young man’s poor form, when the Crag’s Maester, Maester Pincet, came up to me. He held out a tiny little paper which had clearly been untied and read already. I wanted to roll my eyes but instead grabbed the scroll and after giving him my thanks, unwound it. My lips turned downwards as I began reading the words.
After reviewing the related archived documents, it has been made clear that the late King Robert of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm had indeed named his sister as sole heir to Storm’s End. Therefore I, Selwyn Tarth, firmly believe that His Grace would have also given Cassandra the Iron Throne had he known the truth of the parentage of the false king, Joffrey Baratheon.
While House Tarth originally declared for Renly Baratheon, we have a witness that saw firsthand as Renly verified Cassandra’s claim to Storm’s End. Additionally, our trusted witness also watched as Renly handed over the Stormlands to his sister just moments before his death, which was caused by his brother, Stannis Baratheon.
Therefore House Tarth is issuing a declaration of support for Cassandra of House Baratheon as the true born Lady of Storm’s End and therefore recognizing her as the true Queen on the Iron Throne. I urge every Stormlander to remember the oaths they swore to King Robert, to Storm’s End and, in turn, to Queen Cassandra Baratheon.
I felt a hand on my shoulder as I stood there rereading the same words over and over. I turned to see Jory watching me with concern all over his face. I handed him the scroll. His eyes had a proud glint in them when he looked back towards me.
“House Tarth is small, but it is something, Cass.”
“They are planting seeds, just as Brienne promised,” I reasoned. “Not only did they name me queen, but they told Renly’s truth, slandered Stannis and Joffrey both, as well as called out the houses in the Stormlands. They may be small, but this is a large gesture.”
“To think something so important was delivered tied to the leg of a bird,” Jory said with a smile. “So, now that this has been done, will you give Brienne a place in your Queensguard?”
“That is your decision, Jory. You have my full trust in the matter. However, if you are asking if your choice would have my blessing, it would.”
When we had gone away from Renly’s camp, Brienne had pulled me away from the group. She asked if I would allow her to join the ranks of my Queensguard since she saw first hand how Renly gave me his support and wanted to honor his memory. Seeing my opportunity even through my grief, I told her that if she was able to sway her father into standing with me, I would consider it a great service and reward her effort. The woman happily agreed to my terms and left us immediately. I knew Jory would give her a place in the Queensguard, though I only offered her a reward, just in case my Lord Commander surprised me.
This was the product of that transaction: the first seed of loyalty sown. While I had Dorne in my pocket thanks to Oberyn, that was a marriage pact that would remain a secret for the time being. Doran could not boast of my integrity and he could not defend me. Not in the way Selwyn Tarth just had.
Time would tell if this is a mere drop on the ocean, or if these words carried enough force to create a wave.
I rolled up the scroll and shoved it into my pocket. I wanted to feel happy about this news, but instead anxiety began sinking into my veins. I could not name the reason, but I was certain that something dreadful was on the horizon.
“What is on your mind, Cass?”
I did not bring up the sense of impending doom I felt, but rather redirected my worries.
“Stannis will attack King’s Landing any day now. We would have seized the opportunity to take the Rock, but instead Balon Greyjoy ruined the chance. I don’t think there will be such a perfect time. When we turn our eyes to Casterly Rock again we will need to be prepared to lose at least half our army. If Stannis is defeated, Tywin will send his men to hold the keep. If Stannis wins, he will likely take Casterly Rock quickly and fortify it. As much as I loathe the Lannisters for what they did to my brother, they have one of, if not the most valuable seats in Westeros. We would have had the golden opportunity.”
“Tywin is still in Harrenhal according to reports. Perhaps he will not move from there.”
“Oh, no. He’ll take his army south if he has any hope of defeating Stannis and keeping the Iron Throne. Joffrey is barely out of childhood and with my brother’s lifestyle, he didn’t teach the boy a single damn thing about sieges. Stannis held Storm’s End during the rebellion; he knows what tactics work and don’t work. The boy will not stand a chance.”
“King’s Landing will be difficult for Stannis to take, regardless of how many men and ships he has.”
“Aye, it will be difficult, but it is possible. You just need to know the city inside and out. That, and be up against an inexperienced child.”
“Does Stannis know the city?”
“If he was smart, then yes. He would have studied every historical document, map, and even tales that he could find regarding the city.”
“If it was you, where would you attack?”
“The Mud Gate, easily. It is the weakest and most vulnerable gate on the wall. Although, after seeing the tunnels, I might just sneak an army into the Red Keep from the coast. Cut the rot out at the root instead of making the innocent suffer.”
Jory stayed quiet, contemplating my words.
“King Stark only took six thousand men with him,” the man mused after a while. “He left a great number behind for you and Robb to command.”
I nodded. Ned and Oberyn went to ward off the Greyjoy attempts with twelve thousand men. Robb and I had another twelve thousand at our beck and call. Two thousand Dornishmen and ten thousand Northmen, all stationed at different castles around the Riverlands and Westerlands. With the addition of House Tarth, I could safely add one thousand men and four longships to our fighting force, though I would not mobilize them until I had more Stormland houses supporting me. They would not make it past the Reach before being thwarted.
My brow furrowed as I finally registered the suggestive tone in my Lord Commander’s words.
“Jory Cassel, are you encouraging your queen to go take Casterly Rock?”
“Dunno. Is it possible?”
I stood there as I thought over our options. The Rock was a nearly impregnable fortress. It was also the most powerful seat within Westeros. If we could get our hands on it, it would change the tides. We would have the undeniable advantage.
“Have you ever seen House Lannister’s seat?”
Jory shook his head.
“When we call it ‘The Rock’ it is no exaggeration. The entire castle was built into a mountain. Not on top of- into. The main entry point is the Lion’s Gate, but there are protected docks built into seaside caverns. There’s also a lone watchtower that comes out from the very peak of the mountain. Even with Tywin’s forces pulled to the South, he’ll have at least ten thousand men guarding the castle. At best, we would have equal numbers, but they would still get the defensive advantage.”
“I understand, My Queen. I had not realized it was so enclosed.”
I stood there, fingers wrapping around the hilt of my shortsword. I had once developed a scheme during the Rebellion to take the Rock, however Tywin turned on the Mad King before I had the chance to bring my thoughts to Robert and Ned. Back then, I factored in more men fighting in the vanguard. However, it might just work with our numbers. The Northmen had proven themselves to be the better warriors over the Lannister soldiers. If the Dornishmen had even an ounce of Oberyn’s skill, they would also outmatch Tywin’s guards.
Jory smirked.
“You have a plan.”
“Aye, I have a plan. Let me talk to Robb.”
My feet had practically memorized the walk to the Crag’s makeshift infirmary. I would visit Robb every night before I tried to get some sleep. The castle had become more welcoming to me once they realized I was with the Starks rather than another enemy trying to claim the castle. That did not stop the halls from feeling cold and empty as I walked through them. Grey Wind was in the kennels; his howl only added to the ominous foreboding I felt within these walls.
I pushed open the wooden door to see that Robb was missing from his bed. I was not surprised; he had been able to stand and walk a little more each day. The boy may look like a Tully, but he proved himself a stubborn Northman. He refused any more than the initial half dosage of Milk of the Poppy, he would not listen to the maid or the maester’s advice, the boy even tried walking onto the training yard one day to spar, though Jory was quick to get him back into the castle.
When it became clear that Robb was not in his normal places, I quickly became anxious. I had one job from Catelyn, one single thing to get right, and I’ve already lost my ward after mere days?
I started bursting into empty rooms, looking for any sign of Ned’s boy. When I made it up to where I knew the Westerling chambers were, my anxiety turned into fully fledged panic. There were not many doors left and I could not see a reason for Robb to be up this far in the castle. Jory was across from me, taking the right side of the hall and throwing open doors.
As we neared the last four doors in the hallway, I was preparing to kill anyone who might have taken Robb. Since coming to the Crag, I learned that Lord Westerling had been captured during the same battle that landed Jaime in a cell. There was a very real possibility that someone captured Robb as a form of vengeance and planned to deliver him directly to Tywin Lannister.
Although that fear was soon put at ease when Jory yelled out Robb’s name. I whirled around to charge into the room, but Jory slammed the door shut and held out his arms, keeping me from entering.
“He’s in there? Is he okay?”
“Yes,” Jory responded, nodding aggressively. “And yes.”
Jory was red from the neck up. He walked my way and wrapped his arms around me. When he tried to move me away from the door, I made myself as heavy as Robert, slipping out of his grasp.
“C’mon, Cass, the boy is fine-“
His behavior was doing nothing to ease my anxieties. I needed to see Robb in good health. I tried to push past Jory but he was able to block me once more.
“I just want to make sure he is okay with my own eyes.”
“No, it’s no sight for a lady, let alone a queen.”
Before I could tell Jory in gory detail of how I disemboweled a man for the first time, the door opened to reveal Robb. His hair was plastered to his face and for a moment I feared he had a fever. Until I took in his untucked shirt, unlaced britches, and missing shoes. Then I knew exactly what Jory had tried so hard to keep me from seeing.
“If the boy was fucking, Jory, you could have just told me that,” I laughed, turning towards my Queensguard. “I would not have fucking fought you so much.”
“That’s horrid language for a queen,” a tiny voice said from behind Robb.
I quickly looked past him to see the girl that had been doting on the prince night and day. I realized then I had never heard her speak.
“And what would a maid know about how a queen speaks,” I questioned, my defensiveness bubbling up. I did not appreciate her condescending tone.
The girl looked between Robb and I as I glared down at her. Robb’s eyes were anywhere but on mine. Jory, quickly sensing the rising tension, gently grabbed my elbow in an attempt to guide me away.
“I am no maid, Your Grace,” the girl continued, “I am Lady Jeyne Westerling, the daughter of Lord Galen Westerling. My sincerest apologies if I’ve offended you.”
When the title was said, me and the two Northmen all exclaimed:
“Lady?!?!”
I immediately pushed Robb into the room, grabbing the barely dressed girl and shoving her towards Jory. I tossed a nearby blanket at him so that he could cover her better.
“Get her to a private room and do not let anyone in until you hear Syrio’s knock.”
The ever loyal Jory nodded and went to do as I had commanded. I shut the door behind me and turned on Robb.
“Did you know she was a lady?”
“No! I swear it by the old gods and the new. I knew her name was Jeyne but that was all.”
I sighed, sitting on the bed and burying my head in my hands. I thought through every possible ramifications of this action. She was an enemy. Normally, he would not be expected to marry her for something like this during a time of war. Then again, the Westerlings had yielded and provided his army much needed medical aid. It would not be seen as merely an incident from a raid. He would be pressured to marry the girl and in order to preserve his reputation we would need to make sure no one knew why. At the end of it, Robb would have to decide to either break his alliance with the Freys or have his character absolutely slandered.
I bit my lip. Somehow I knew the choice Robb would make. He would keep his oath, as his father would have surely taught him to do. Then the Westerlings would quickly turn on him, telling everyone about the ‘honorable’ Robb Stark. He might be seen as a man of his word, but not one of integrity. Even if he told the truth that he did not know her social status, no one other than the North would believe him.
I could do it. I could protect him just as I did Benjen and his father. I could do to this girl as I had with A-
“I love her.”
My gaze flew back to Robb. Those were words were neither expected nor welcomed.
“You don’t know her,” I countered. “You’ve been here for just barely over a week!”
Robb crossed his arms. I could see his own temper rising. He did not like being treated like a child at all.
“She’s been by my side for nearly all it. She is kind, and sweet, and caring. She is intelligent and does not treat me like a prince or a lord. She talks to me like a friend. Besides, Father always said that he wanted us to marry for love rather than politics,” Robb argued.
“You speak of marriage now? Robb, you made a promise to Walder Frey. He’s given you passage as well as men. Black Walder helped you take this very castle! Breaking the pact with the Freys will cause nothing but trouble.”
“I believe she is worth the trouble.”
“No girl’s cunt is worth that much trouble!”
I regretted the words as soon as I said them. The boy had just told me that he loved her and I was treating the situation as nothing more than a mistake. If he truly did love Jeyne, I was doing nothing but insulting his first coupling with her. He deserved good memories of such a special moment. Remembering my promise to Cat, I took a breath and forced myself to be calm. I moved the hair out of my face as I looked up at the boy.
“Robb, do you truly think the best course of action would be to marry this girl and break off your alliance with the Freys? If your father has already crossed the Trident, it is safe to assume that Walder Frey will not allow him to cross back over after a slight like this. He is a proud man who has too much power. He knows what he has; he knows that the Twins are imperative for any war the North means to fight.”
“I am going to marry Jeyne. It is the honorable thing to do.”
“Honorable? You think fucking a high born lady and then wedding her is honorable? You think breaking off a pact that you agreed to is honorable? Honorable would have been to keep your britches laced.”
“My father is the most honorable man I’ve ever known. I believe he would want me to marry her. He would want me to follow my heart.”
“Your father is the most honorable man you know because he didn’t do this! Instead of following his heart- and cock- he did the duty that was expected of him. He had opportunity after opportunity to ruin the one he loved and he never did. He wouldn’t even touch a whore, let alone a maid! Instead, he shouldered the burden, fulfilled the marriage pact that your uncle couldn’t, and stepped into the role of Lord of Winterfell. Your father acted out of honor. This, Robb, is selfishness. The choices you make will bring consequences. Be sure you are prepared to face them.”
Robb stayed silent as I spoke. I watched as his hard gaze softened with every sentence. He was still a boy and he listened to each word. When I was done, he sat on the bed next to me. I gently gave his knee a few reassuring pats.
“I am not your mother, Robb,” I whispered earnestly, “I cannot tell you what to do. You are technically a man grown and old enough to decide for yourself. Just know that I will support you in whatever decision you make.”
“I will marry her,” Robb said firmly. “If this is the last decision I ever make for myself, so be it. I will talk to Lord Frey. Maybe we can arrange a new marriage pact?”
Doubtful.
He leaned into me, laying his head on my shoulder. I closed my eyes and rested my head against his, ignoring the way his curls hair tickled my nose. We sat in silence for a moment before he finally spoke.
“I don’t even know how it happened. I read the news of Bran and Rickon then she came in and started saying all these sweet comforts. It just felt right, like we were meant to be. So I kissed her. Before I knew it, Jory had barged in.”
My brow pulled together in confusion.
“Wait, what news of your bothers?
“You haven’t heard,” he asked. “I received a raven from Theon. He wrote that he has taken Winterfell and killed my brothers. He’s calling himself the Prince of Winterfell.”
Robb’s tone was shaky as he spoke. There was a pang in my chest as the weight of his words settled on top of me. This must have been the reason for the sudden dread I felt earlier. My heart broke for Ned and his family, especially him and Cat. Losing my brothers was hard enough, I could not imagine the grief that would come from losing your youngest children.
“I am sorry, Robb. The pain is not easy to bear.”
The prince sighed as I squeezed his knee.
“My father will have his head for this. I did not think Theon was capable of such… betrayal. He was like a big brother to those boys.”
“Aye,” I confirmed, “Theon has thrown out whatever mercy your father might have shown him.”
“Good. I want revenge,” Robb stated, hate emphasizing each word. “I want to hurt him in the worst ways. I only wish I was there to do it myself.”
I grimaced. I was younger than he was now when I learned of what I thought was Lyanna’s kidnapping. Much like him, I had the same anger and animosity. However, his father had not. Ned’s anger came out cold and collected; I could count on my fingers how many times I witnessed a furious Ned. His anger was not normally heated like mine and Robert’s. Brandon was the hotheaded Stark, not Ned. Ned was angry when he heard of Lyanna, even angrier when he heard of Brandon and his father. He never once wanted to cause the pain Robb spoke of now. The angry tone that came from Robb sounded so much like Brandon’s.
I froze.
There is no chance in any hell, is there?
I moved my head to look at the boy. I grabbed his face in both of my hands and stared at home for a long while. I could tell he grew uncomfortable under my scrutiny. I took in everything about his face. His hair, his eyes, his nose, the bone structure, I even studied every pore on his face.
My eyes widened. Now that I knew what to look for, there was no denying it. This boy looked so much like Catelyn that it was nearly imperceptible. Honestly, if it were not for this conversation paired with the fact that I could sketch Ned’s face from memory, I might have never thought to look at him closely enough. But I knew it as sure as I knew my name as I sat there watching him. It was evident in the width of his nose, his protruding brow ridge, the shape of his chin, even the way he squared his jaw.
This is Brandon’s son.
As soon as I came to the conclusion, I chased off the trail of thought, as though it burned me. It mattered not anymore. After almost eighteen years, this was Ned’s son, no matter whose seed sired him.
“Cassandra? What’s wrong?”
“You are just so young. I am no stranger to vengeance,” I told him, “I have done some truly awful things in this world, Robb, but never once did they make me feel better.”
“I don’t care if it will make me feel better or not. I want him to suffer,” Robb hissed.
I sighed; this conversation would do nothing but fester more negativity and hate. I decided to redirect his emotions.
“Then you’ll be disappointed. Your father is a merciful man; he’ll give Theon a quick death. If you’re truly feeling restless, I have an idea to run by you. If you’re well enough to fuck, then I’d say you’re well enough to fight.”