CASSANDRA
That had been the longest journey Cassandra Baratheon had ever experienced since she began traveling north. The royal family had been on the road for a month with nearly half of the Red Keep's court. Cassie's mother, the Queen, of course, didn't want to ride on the back of a horse all the way to Winterfell, so she, Myrcella, and Tommen traveled inside a huge, windowless wheelhouse. This caused their party to move so slowly that Cassie was sure that by the time they reached Winterfell, winter would have arrived as well.
Cassandra was getting restless as she sat on the back of her black mount, caressing its mane with her right hand, which was covered in black ink lines. The banners of the crowned stag of House Baratheon passed by her, but they were not the only ones.
The roaring lion of House Lannister fluttered in the cold northern wind, and Cassie could not take her blue gaze away from it.
Our name is supposed to be Baratheon, she thought. There was no other house that had been so overrun by the consort's guards.
Robert Baratheon might have been the King, but Cassandra's grandfather, Tywin Lannister, had ensured that golden lions were everywhere in the capital. Banners and soldiers alike. Most of the guards were Lannister guards. King's Landing was full of them. Even Sandor Clegane, who had been her mother's personal guard when she was a little girl, was now Joffrey's personal guard.
Turning to her left, Cassie caught sight of the shining, golden armor of her uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister. People called him the Lion of Lannister when he was around; behind his back, he went by a very different name: the Kingslayer.
The part the Lannisters played during Robert Baratheon's Rebellion against the Targaryens was a nasty subject, especially since her uncle had chosen to kill the king he had sworn to protect.
A vow was a vow, and a duty was a duty. Cassandra thought about that often.
"Are you always this quiet during your journeys to the North, dear niece?"
Dear…
Cassie turned her head to look at the little man now riding next to her, observing her with his mismatched eyes—one black and the other green.
"I usually travel alone, uncle," she replied in a calm tone. "I'm not used to having company to share my thoughts with."
"Not that the prospect of sharing them makes you eager," the man chuckled.
Tyrion Lannister, the youngest of the Lannister brothers, was known as the Imp because of his peculiar appearance. He didn't share his siblings' beauty; he was short, almost half a man, with short limbs. His legs were crooked, and his head was larger than average. But his mind made up for his looks. Tyrion Lannister was a clever man—very clever. Perhaps even too clever for Cassie's liking. He spoke often, usually trying to outsmart everyone around him. He knew he could do that, so he did.
"It has been a while, Cassandra, since we last spoke," Tyrion said. "I always miss you on your journeys south."
That was no lie. When Cassie went south, she preferred to stay in her chambers, train alone in the fields, or take long walks outside the Red Keep. She didn't like being in King's Landing—too many eyes, too many spies. The only reason she returned south was her name and title. She might not be in the line of succession, but she was still a Baratheon.
"As I said, I'm not used to talking," she replied, and he chuckled again.
"Even though I think you've got some knowledge to share."
Tyrion and his old books. Dragons were his favorite topic, something he had often discussed when Cassie was just a babe. His curiosity about the Keepers of Light fascinated him as well.
"If there's something you feel the need to ask, go ahead," Cassandra said, glancing at her uncle from the corner of her eye.
Honesty is everything.
There was nothing she needed to lie about. She would never lie.
"You are like a legend come alive, my niece," he said. "It just gets me curious."
A legend come alive. A miracle for any family, a weapon to wield. Cassie didn't like to talk about her powers, nor did she care for ambition or the men who mastered it. She kicked her horse to make it move a little faster, wanting to reach the front of the caravan.
Honest men were dead.
No, maybe not.
There was one family that showed no signs of ambition or manipulation. A House that lived an honest and honorable life. The only place where Cassie had ever felt like a child—not a princess, nor a Keeper of Light—just Cassie.
There weren't many things that excited Cassandra Baratheon or made her smile. But Winterfell brought back happy memories—easy days spent laying in the snow, running through the woods, playing, and dancing. Cassandra had spent years waiting to spend just a few days in that castle, with its children.
She still remembered her first arrival in Winterfell; everything was dark and cold, but the people were so different from the Southerners. Her mother had always said they were strange. Once, she even called them savages.
"You will be surrounded by them soon enough," Cersei had said to her before Cassie's departure from the capital. "Good luck."
Cassie had been five.
Her mother's words had echoed in her head throughout the entire journey. Cassandra had never admitted it out loud, but she was nervous. None of her family had accompanied her; they had only sent two guards. Strangely, Robert must have sensed her unease, because he wrote to his old friend Eddard Stark, asking if the princess could spend a few days in Winterfell before leaving for the Wall.
The nicest thing he had ever done for me, Cassie thought, glancing at her father as he rode ahead on his big black horse.
She wasn't supposed to return to Winterfell on her later journeys, but Ned had told her she would be welcomed anytime she wished. He even offered to take her to the Wall himself, but she had refused.
"I'm a Baratheon; I'm not afraid," she had answered confidently, though she was just a girl in thick gloves, with big blue eyes and hair tied in a braid. She remembered the way Ned and his wife exchanged pointed looks.
"It is good to be afraid sometimes," she recalled Ned's words, but she had never understood them.
How can it be good to be afraid?
"Cassandra!" Cassie rolled her eyes at the piercing voice of her younger brother Joffrey, heir to the Seven Kingdoms.
"What do you want now, little boy?" she replied, raising an eyebrow with a bored expression. She couldn't remember a time when he hadn't bothered her. His annoying voice seemed to follow her everywhere.
And now there he was, the heir to the Iron Throne, with shining blond hair, perched on a white horse, a pristine sword at his waist. He had called it Lion's Tooth. Cassie never cared much for sword names, but that one seemed particularly silly. If he was trying to be intimidating, she was afraid he wasn't succeeding. It was clear he had just received it, without understanding the responsibility that came with wielding a sword.
Joffrey wasn't wise or humble. He acted as if he were already a ruler. It was annoying, but also amusing at times—well, amusing to her, since he could never truly bother her. Joff always denied it, but he was scared of her. He only pestered her when her hands were covered with gloves, a necessity imposed by their mother when they were together. She would have preferred to go without them, but enduring her mother's complaints was even worse than dealing with Joffrey.
"Mother said you're stupid if you think this place is beautiful," he declared, and she nodded at his words.
"Said the woman who thinks you're a beauty, or a good fighter for that matter." Joffrey glared at Sandor, who rode next to him on his massive mount, Stranger.
Sandor Clegane was the tallest man Cassandra had ever seen. He often observed everyone in silence, and people usually feared him because of his burnt face. Not all of it was scarred—just one side—but it wasn't the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Perhaps that was because she had grown up with him always around. He was the one who taught Joffrey and Tommen how to fight. With Cassie, it had come easily; everything about fighting felt natural to her. With Joffrey, however, it had been different. Everyone knew that, but no one dared to speak up. Joff always wanted to prove his strength, especially to Sandor. Sometimes, Cassie thought he wanted to impress Sandor more than he ever tried to impress their father.
"Watch your tongue, Cassandra!" Joffrey snapped, and she couldn't help but smirk.
"What are you going to do, baby prince? Bore me to death?" She could see his face turning redder by the moment.
"I'll tell Mother," he threatened.
Cassandra let out a dry laugh. Typical.
"Do it, please," she said, leaning toward him. "I've been waiting for a good reason to argue with her. It's indeed a boring day." Joffrey turned his horse around, and she smirked as she watched him gallop toward their mother. Then she noticed Sandor glancing at her.
"What?" she asked, still smirking. He remained silent. "I'm allowed to have a little fun. The Gods have already mocked me enough."
Sandor never showed his emotions, and she didn't expect him to. Not everyone could say what they wanted, and Sandor was one of those who kept his thoughts to himself. But she was sure he had plenty to say to the little prince, who constantly called him "Dog."
Cassandra looked ahead and finally spotted the shape of Winterfell. It was enormous—truly immense—so vast that its castle could have housed every single citizen. A genuine smile spread across her face. Just seeing its tall towers made her forget everything around her and what she had left behind in the South. She wondered how the Starks had been, since she hadn't stopped by on her way down. She thought of how they had grown and what stories they had to tell her. Her smile widened.
"I'm warning you now, Cassandra," her father said, riding alongside her. He seemed enormous on his horse, wrapped in a fur cloak, and her smile faded as she returned to reality. She wasn't alone this time; her stay at Winterfell would be nothing like before.
"What?" she asked, meeting his blue eyes, which were the same as hers.
"I promised your mother that you would behave. I don't want to hear her whine about you, not even once."
Cassie rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't have to promise her anything if you had let me leave when I was supposed to." Her plan had been simple: to leave King's Landing completely, spend four days with the Starks, and then head to the Wall as she was meant to. As simple and perfect as it had been for nine years.
"This is official business, Cassandra." A pointless business, in her view. Her father wanted to ask Ned to become Hand of the King. Sure, the two of them were friends, but she was certain Ned would never leave his family and his precious North for a man he barely recognized. That meant she would have to endure a full month with her brother and her lovely mother for nothing.
"You are here not as a Keeper of Light; you are here as a princess of the royal family. Whatever you do at the Wall can wait." She nearly laughed. He was speaking as if she had no duties at all.
"So I'm both a princess and a Keeper. Not just one," Cassie countered, eyeing her father. "If I remember correctly, we should be honest with our lords and our people, Father."
"Aren't we always?" he asked after studying her for a moment. Cassandra took a deep breath.
"I think this family couldn't be honest with anyone, even if the Seven themselves compelled us to be." At this, he laughed—a genuine, roaring laugh. Cassie was surprised at how true it sounded. There weren't many moments like this between them, but she was the only one of his children who could make him laugh from time to time, and it always left her astonished.
"My daughter," the King said when he finally stopped laughing, "sometimes I forget how happy you are to be part of all this."
As happy as you are, Cassie thought, shaking her head. Without realizing it, she had passed through Winterfell's main gate, and the people were already kneeling as they passed.
The first meeting with the Starks had gone well. Cassie had never seen her father smile so widely, and Ned seemed genuinely happy to see him, too. Lady Catelyn welcomed Cassie with a warm hug, just as she always did, and soon Ned did the same. All the Stark children were there, too. The Queen, her mother, managed a huge, fake smile for Lord Winterfell as they exchanged greetings, but predictably, the King hadn't even introduced his family when he asked Ned to accompany him to the crypts. Catelyn's expression darkened with barely contained fury, pure hatred evident in her gaze.
"Cassie, welcome back," Robb's voice called as she hopped down from her horse. In an instant, the Stark brothers rushed to her; Arya was the first to hug her, followed by each of the others, even Cyel Sand and Jon Snow. Cassie caught a glimpse of Catelyn watching them, but it was the burning stares from her own family that bothered her. Her mother's irritation was palpable, and she exchanged a knowing look with her uncles. No one had seen Princess Cassandra Baratheon laugh or accept the touch of others since she was a babe of five. They had never witnessed the fondness in her eyes as she knelt to hug the little boy of three who had run to her.
"You're almost as tall as me, little wolf," Cassie said, lifting Rickon into her arms. He let out a delighted laugh as he reached to touch a strand of her black hair.
"I'm tall too!" Bran chimed in, his eyes sparkling with joy, just before Arya scoffed.
"I'm taller than both of them!" she declared as Cassie handed Rickon back to Antea.
"Antea," Cassie said, nodding in greeting.
"Cassie," Antea replied, glancing over Cassie's shoulder. "Are those your brothers?" All the Stark children turned to look at her siblings. Cassie noticed Sansa blush and the quick glance shared between Robb and Antea.
"So it seems," Cassie answered without turning her head. She knew what would happen next: the Starks would have to meet her brothers and spend time with them. And in all honesty, she didn't wish to be a part of that.
"I'll need some time for myself," Cassie said, taking a breath as she turned to Robb. "You'll be busy for quite some time."
He frowned. "You're not staying?"
"Gods no," she replied. "I entrust you with them, and I'll pray for you."
"So you pray now?" Jon's voice made her chuckle, and they shared a knowing look. She was happy to see all of them, but Jon Snow was the one she was always most eager to see. No one calmed her quite like he did.
"I'll look for you later, Robb," Cassie said, noticing her family starting to approach. Then she turned to Jon. She knew he would have a hard time; he was Eddard Stark's bastard, and Lady Catelyn would not present him to the royal family like one of her own children.
"Come on, Jon Snow. Walk with me."
He silently thanked her as they began to stroll toward the gardens. The summer snow covered the fields, its color blending perfectly with the decorations arranged for their arrival. Cassie pushed back her black hood and turned to Jon with a smile.
"Look at you," she exclaimed, ruffling his dark hair as they walked, earning a chuckle from him as he tried to step away. "I've never seen you dressed up like this."
He laughed lightly, pushing her hand away. "It's good to have you back, Cassie." She shook her head and playfully punched him on the shoulder.
Lady Catelyn had worked hard to make everything look perfect. Wreaths of flowers hung around the gardens, and while it was beautiful, Cassie knew her mother would likely overlook them entirely.
The people of Winterfell went about their duties but greeted her as she passed. Thanks to the Starks, she knew most of them; she had played with many children, noble and not, and the Starks always had dinner with their people each evening, inviting a different guest to sit with Ned. It had felt strange to her the first time she witnessed it. Cassie was used to eating alone in her chambers or with her family when her father allowed it, which was rare. But she had enjoyed how happy the people were to spend time with the Starks, simply because they smiled at them. That experience had inspired her to spend more time in Flea Bottom, where her people were always delighted when she visited.
"From Father's words, I imagined the King to be quite different," Jon remarked, drawing her attention.
"Because he's fat?" Cassie replied with a half-smile.
Jon Snow chuckled. "I never said that."
"But that's what you think," Cassie replied, amusement flickering in her eyes. Everyone thought that about her father, but nobody dared to voice it.
"Did I offend you?" Jon chuckled, and she glared playfully.
"You know better," she said, taking a breath. "But you spoke the truth. He is not who he used to be."
"Do you have memories of that?" he asked curiously. She nodded, her black hair shifting in the cool breeze.
"Some," she admitted. "But his appearance changed quickly. My uncle Renly says it just takes one look at me to remember the man who killed Robert Baratheon."
Renly Baratheon, her father's youngest son, was probably the most liked man in the capital: gallant, charming, and youthful. He often spoke with Cassie when she was south. Sometimes, he could even make her smile, and once he danced with her, the most embarrassing moment of her life.
"There's something of your Queen mother's in you, too," Jon remarked gently. Cassie fell silent, hoping he would tread lightly. She dreaded the thought of sharing any similarities with her mother.
As they entered the Godswood, Cassie quieted, gazing at the serene landscape. Hot springs bubbled softly, and a light mist hung in the air. Countless times, she and the Stark children had played here, even alongside the Greyjoy boy and little Sand. At the center stood a Weirwood tree, its white bark and deep red leaves creating a striking contrast. The face carved into the trunk seemed to watch them, sending a shiver down Cassie's spine.
There were no Weirwood trees in the South. The Old Gods were revered only by Northerners, especially the Starks. In the South, people worshipped the New Gods—or the Seven—as the old beliefs faded long ago, just like her own faith. Even at the Wall, people prayed to the Seven; there were no Weirwood trees. She couldn't understand why anyone would continue to pray to deities that never answered. She had never done so, and she probably never would.
Suddenly, something tugged at her cape. Turning around, her eyes widened. At her feet stood a little white puppy, its mouth clamped around her cape. It gazed up at her with striking red eyes. But this was neither a dog nor a wolf. Cassie knew exactly what it was.
It cannot be, she thought, staring at the creature. You shouldn't be here.
"Ghost!" Jon's voice broke her concentration. "Ghost, leave her alone!" The puppy instantly darted to Jon's side, its white fur nearly invisible against the snow.
"I'm sorry, Cassie," he said with a smile, but she barely registered it.
"Where did you find it, Jon Snow?" she asked, her tone serious. He looked surprised; it was the first time she had spoken so earnestly with him.
"We found them on our way back from…" Jon hesitated, casting her a sorrowful glance.
"The execution?" she finished for him, her heart sinking.
She knew the law and that this was the fourth member of the Night's Watch to desert in a short span of time. It had happened before, but...
"Did you know the man?" Jon asked softly.
"Of course I did," she replied, still fixated on the puppy. When she looked up, she saw Jon nodding, his expression heavy with regret. Cassie didn't understand his sorrow; the man knew what would happen. He made his choice.
Still, even that was strange. Gared had been the fourth to desert in a short period. Cassie wasn't at the Wall when he made his choice, but her friend Rose wrote to her that it was as if he went crazy. She would have told her in person. First, people went mad, and now they found direwolf puppies in the snow…
Puppies?
"There's more than one?" Jon Snow nodded, looking down at his puppy, who was sniffing his leg.
"There are six more."
Six?
"Their mother was dead."
Seven brothers, seven direwolves south of the Wall.
Why had they come all that way?
"Cassie, are you feeling well?" Jon asked, worry in his voice. She looked at him.
She was very confused. She knew of direwolves beyond the Wall, but it had been centuries since those creatures had been on this side of the world. Why, though? Why now?
Her gaze met Jon's. He was observing her with his grey eyes. He had always done this—studying her, understanding when she was overthinking. Jon knew she was worried, and that piqued his curiosity.
Was she worried, though? About what? Nothing had happened. Deserters and direwolves. Nothing was happening. There was no need to scare Jon. What she was thinking about involved legends and myths. Nothing was real.
"I was just thinking…" she said, looking at the puppy. "Ghost, really?"
The boy smiled, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Jon Snow, why do you hate him so? To give him such a name."
"I knew you would say something about it," she raised her hands in a surrender pose.
"I'm just trying to save him, my friend," Jon laughed silently.
"He is the quietest of them all," he explained, thinking that made his choice more reasonable. "It fits him."
Cassie smiled, rolling her eyes. The old, quiet, predictable Jon Snow. He and Robb were the ones she was most attached to; they were special to her, always had been, since the first moment they met. She remembered how they immediately played together, never once treating her like she was dangerous or evil. With Antea Stark, it had been another story. They had never been the closest of friends, but during her first visits to Winterfell, Antea had been very jealous of Cassie. She was afraid that the new girl would take her brothers away from her, especially Robb.
"How was your journey?" Jon asked as they sat on the ground next to each other. Cassie missed the summer snow and moved her hand to touch it.
"Just a journey," she replied with a shrug.
"You're acting strange today, you know?" Jon said, as his little puppy settled on his lap. Cassie eyed the boy with a frown. His eyes were studying her again.
"How am I acting strange?" she asked. "I've barely arrived."
"You always tell us something about your travels," he replied. "But today you wanted to leave before we could all talk."
Cassie licked her lips; there was nothing to tell.
"I usually travel alone," she said. "I need to talk when I see you. But this time I had company all the way, and they were quite talkative." She shrugged her shoulders. "And I thought you would all be busy with my family." Jon Snow didn't seem convinced and kept studying her.
She looked away. She didn't want to talk about her family there. Not in Winterfell, not with Jon. She had always felt her heart light behind those walls, as if she were still five years old. Like she hadn't lived all those years. There was no reason to discuss unpleasant subjects.
"Can I ask you a question?" Cassie looked up at him as Ghost took some steps toward her, sniffing her vest.
"I've just realized you've never talked about your family. Why?"
"Because there's nothing to talk about," Cassie answered simply, and Jon's eyes widened in confusion.
"Come on," she exclaimed, jumping to her feet to change the subject. She didn't want to spend all her time talking about her family. "Let me see if your skills have gotten better since the last time."
They had always trained together since they were children. It was very fun, and the two Stark boys were good at fighting, but usually, Robb trained with Greyjoy, and she always made sure to stay far away from him. Cassie had always had a hard time with that boy. She never trusted him, never liked him.
"How long will you stay?" Jon asked as she handed him a long stick of wood while she took another.
"Less than my family, that's for sure," Cassie answered, moving her stick for him to block.
"I thought you would stay longer this time," he said, attacking, but she stepped away before he could strike again.
"No," Jon blocked her attack again. "I have a schedule. I can't do what I want," she said, swinging her weapon to prevent Jon from hitting her. "The Matriarch had already been kind enough."
The Matriarch had responded to her raven, granting Cassie special permission to stay south longer, but she wouldn't be able to go again for her next turn. That was no concern for Cassie; she had to accept it anyway.
"The Wall," he said. "I really want to see it."
"I have to admit, it can make quite the impression," she replied. "Huge and made of ice. I always told you you would love it."
"How many of you are there?" Jon asked suddenly.
"Us women? Not many. But there are more men," even if lately their ranks had thinned. Being a man of the Night's Watch used to be an honor, and sometimes brave men decided to leave everything to protect the realm. But those times were far gone; now the only men sent to the Wall were murderers, thieves, and rapists… all the scum of the Seven Kingdoms had become members of the Night's Watch.
"Father told me about volunteers." She was sure Ned Stark's little brother was one of them. "Is there an age for that?"
"An age for that?" She repeated, laughing at his words. "There's only one rule: if you're a criminal, you're part of the Night's Watch."
"My uncle is no criminal." She was aware of that.
"Benjen is not like the others," Cassie said, and with a swift move, she disarmed Jon. "Good men are dead, Jon Snow." Then she tossed his stick back, and he caught it. "You've got skills."
Cassie saw Jon's lips turn up in a small smile, but she could tell something was off. Maybe he was hungry; he always had a strange expression when he was.
"Cassie!" She was shocked when she heard Joff's voice. Her blue eyes flared like fire as her brother made his way toward them.
"'Cassie,' sister?" He laughed, mocking her.
"Do not call me that," she almost growled, trying to keep her anger in check. She could feel Jon's eyes on her, but she had other things to focus on as her brother continued to laugh.
"You think it too!" he said. "A stupid name, not fit for a princess."
"I've never cared about your thoughts," she shouted, making Joffrey stop laughing with an irritated gasp.
"I'm your prince!"
"Should that change anything?" Cassie asked, taking a breath. "What is it that you want this time?"
"Mother will be furious when I tell her you were fighting," he replied, then looked down at her hands. "And without your gloves." Cassie ignored that, but when she saw how Joffrey was looking at Jon, she knew what he was thinking. Everyone thought the same thing when they saw Jon; his name was Snow. He was well aware of that, and Cassie would not let Joffrey mock him for it.
"Hold this," she said, tossing her stick to Jon, who caught it with his free hand. With a dark smirk, she took Joffrey by the shoulder with a firm grip. Her brother looked at her with fear; she had never touched him without their mother being close by or without gloves.
"You really think I won't kick you in your royal ass just because Mother will be mad, boy?" she whispered so low that probably only Jon could hear.
"You cannot touch me!" he exclaimed, trying to hide his fear. A useless attempt.
"But I am, and I'm still alive," she said, smirking. "So be a nice little brother and tell me why you came all this way." She let Joffrey go, and angry, he spoke again.
"You better start getting ready for the feast tonight, or you'll have two reasons to be scared of Mother."
She closed her eyes; she had totally forgotten about that. Cassie never liked feasts, but honestly, if Ned and Catelyn had organized it, she wouldn't want to miss it.
"Why, thank you, Joff," she said in a loud voice. Then Cassie turned to Sandor, who was close behind them. "Sandor, take him away, please. The winds of the North are too cold for our little king." Then she looked at her brother with a smirk. "We don't want him to catch a cold." Sandor bowed his head; sometimes he did that to hide a little smirk. On Joffrey's face, she could see the hate; it was always there every single time they spoke. Cassie had lived just one year in peace—the year before little Joffrey's birth. What a beautiful and peaceful year, or at least she believed it was… She couldn't remember any of it.
Joffrey left after a weak threat, but Cassie was so used to them that she didn't even listen anymore. In that moment, she was too busy thinking about the feast to pay attention to him.
"The Gods keep mocking me!" she exclaimed, turning to Jon. The boy was glancing at her with a strange look, but Cassie shook her head.
"I completely forgot about the feast." She didn't have anything to wear; she hadn't brought any unnecessary things.
"You don't have a dress, I'm guessing," Jon said with an amused smile.
"Don't start," she replied, resisting the urge to bite her nails. "Listen, I have to go, but I will see you for the cortege."
She started to walk away when she heard Jon say, "I won't be there."
"What?" Cassie asked, walking closer to him again. "Why?" Her friend had a sad smile on his face; it was obvious he cared about that decision.
"Father said it's the better decision," he replied, and she knew what he implied. "I won't enter with you in the cortege, and I'll sit at the end of the hall."
She knew it couldn't have been Ned's decision. She was sure who could have been behind it.
"I can talk to Catelyn." Cassie had noticed the coldness in Lady Catelyn's eyes when she looked at Jon; he was the proof of Ned's betrayal during the war, after all. But at least she let him stay in the castle. Cassie knew her father had many bastards, but she knew the name of just one: Mya Stone. Cassandra had never met her; she knew her half-sister lived in the Eyrie, but nothing more. She also knew that her mother had threatened to kill Mya Stone if she ever showed her face in King's Landing.
Cassie was sure she would be able to convince Lady Catelyn to let Jon spend the night with them. She needed Jon beside her; she hated parties and needed her best friend with her.
"No, there is no need."
"But Jon," she argued, "I'm sure I can—"
He put his hand on her shoulder. "I appreciate it, Cassie, but don't worry. I'd much rather be at the end of the hall so I can bring Ghost with me."
Cassie wasn't sure he was truly alright with that decision, but she didn't push him any further; she didn't want to intrude.
She felt sad, though. Cassie had already envisioned how they could have had fun together, drinking wine and making fun of Theon Greyjoy. Now that evening would feel endless. Even the Stark children would be busy keeping her little brothers company.
"Then I shall sit with you during the dancing." He looked at her with wide eyes, as if she had just cursed.
"But your family," she frowned, not understanding his words. "I'm sure they want you to spend the evening with them." A small laugh escaped her lips.
"I assure you they won't mind." His lips curved into a small smile, and in his eyes was gratitude, but she punched his shoulder playfully to make him stop looking at her like that, and they both started to laugh.
"It's time for me to go," she said, turning around and leaving Jon and his little pup behind. She decided to find the only girl she knew who had dresses her size and was happy to help: Sansa Stark.
As she neared the entrance of the hall, she heard Arya Stark calling for her. The little girl was running toward her with another pup on her heels, though this one had light grey fur.
"Little Stark," she greeted with a smile. Cassie had always had a soft spot for that little wild thing, maybe because she saw a bit of herself in Arya, the most rebellious among the Starks.
"Want to go horse riding?" Arya asked with a wide smile.
"I wish I could," Cassie said, massaging her long dark hair. The little girl pouted. "Isn't Antea going with you?"
Usually, the older Stark loved horse riding. But Arya shook her head. "She's helping Robb." Then she pointed in the direction of her older siblings, not far from them. "He has to dance with your sister at the feast."
Now Cassie understood why the two twins were dancing and laughing together. She had always observed the Stark brothers. They were so close and nice to each other that they sometimes seemed fake. They didn't insult one another, and there wasn't a day they spent apart. Cassie didn't fully understand that need to be together; she had never felt it with any of her siblings. But looking at the two twins, she couldn't help but think that maybe if she had had a twin, she would have felt that kind of bond.
"Nymeria, stop that!" Cassie looked down to see Arya's pup tugging at her black cape. Again, she thought, looking at the direwolf.
"What is it with these puppies and my cape?" Cassie asked more to herself than to Arya. "So, you've met Ghost?" The girl giggled. "Don't worry, you'll get used to them." Arya looked down at the pup. "She's mine—Nymeria." Cassie wasn't surprised; she knew how much her friend loved the story of Princess Nymeria of Dorne, the one who didn't bow her head to the Targaryens.
"Grey Wind and Shadow," Arya pointed at two puppies, one dark grey and the other black, which were playing together like their owners. "Sansa's is Lady," and Cassie was even less surprised by that. "Rickon's is called Shaggydog." Cassie frowned; she wanted to meet that one. "And Bran had no idea what to call his." Maybe Sweet would have been good, but thinking it through, that probably would have been the perfect name for Bran.
After her chat with Arya, she went to Sansa, who was very happy to help her get ready. Sansa chose a white and golden dress and started to brush Cassie's hair. The princess felt uneasy; no one had made her hair in ages, and it was strange to spend so much time getting ready.
"You're beautiful," Sansa exclaimed. "I hope it's enough for a princess." Cassie had never seen the girl so enthusiastic.
"I can't tell," Cassie replied, looking at herself in the mirror. "But it's surely enough for me. That girl doesn't even resemble me." She liked the girl she saw in there; maybe she should start to think a bit more about her appearance, but her life didn't allow for it.
She turned to Sansa. "You're really good at this. Thank you." Sansa smiled widely.
"Clyel is teaching me. I'm glad you like it."
Cassie got up. "If you were my sister, I would use you for this."
Sansa's laugh sounded like a song. "I would love to be your sister." Cassie looked at her, surprised by her words, but it was nice to hear them.
The two girls arrived together at the cortege. Everyone was there—all the Starks and all of Cassie's family, who looked at her with wide eyes. Even her mother was looking at her strangely; there was something in her eyes that Cassie couldn't quite place, but it wasn't pride, that was for sure.
"Look at you!" Robb said with a laugh as he walked closer. "I could barely recognize you."
"I thought you were supposed to wear your black vest," Theon said, glaring at the little Stark.
"Indeed," Robb said, turning again toward Cassie.
"I've made a promise tonight," she said, noticing her father looking in her direction.
"I find sight," Cassie turned when she heard Benjen Stark's voice, and her smile widened.
"Ben!" she said, walking to him and trying to keep her gown from getting caught under her feet. "I didn't know you would come," she said as the man laughed.
"By my brother's invitation," he said, looking toward Ned. "It was a pleasant surprise as well." Cassie smiled before noticing her sister looking at her with wide eyes and a sweet smile. At that gaze, Cassie felt a bit embarrassed and looked away. Why was she looking at her like that?
When the feast started, the first to enter were the lords of Winterfell, accompanying the King and Queen. Then Robb and Myrcella followed; Cassie saw her sister's red cheeks as she entered the hall. Next were Joffrey and Sansa, and Cassandra couldn't understand the girl's happiness during her walk with the future King. Who would be happy to walk with him? Arya and Tommen followed them, and Cassie almost smiled at her little brother; he was a funny little thing, and she had always thought that.
Then it was her turn. She entered alone; as the eldest, she was a Keeper of Light. It was usually an honor for a Keeper's family. After Antea and her little brothers made their entrance, followed by Cassie's uncles—the first shining like a lion, the other shorter but with the same attitude—the last to enter were the two wards of the North and Benjen Stark, Lord Ned's little brother and one of Cassie's closest friends at the Wall. In fact, Benjen was a brother of the Night's Watch and even the First Ranger, so he and Cassie spent a lot of time together.
Before they all started to eat, Ned gave a speech in honor of the royal family. Cassie didn't listen; she knew they didn't deserve most of the nice things the Lord of the North was saying, so she focused on finding Jon in the crowd. But there were so many people that she couldn't spot him.
The dinner was good and pleasant. Cassie finally talked with Robb and with Ned, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she had missed the Lord of Winterfell with his rare smiles and kind words. But something ruined her perfect Winterfell moment: she overheard her mother and Lady Catelyn talking about an arrangement—Joffrey and Sansa's arrangement. Apparently, if Ned had accepted to become Hand of the King, Sansa would have to marry the little worm.
Why?
Why would they want to do such a thing? They had no idea what it would mean for Sansa to be his wife; she would be stuck with him forever, and no crown would make that better. It was a real shock for Cassie. She didn't want the Starks to be in King's Landing or to mix with her family—they deserved so much better.
The dancing had started, and she saw Robb and her sister at the center of the hall. Robb was smiling down at Sansa, and predictably, the girl was falling for his charm. Not far from them, Antea was twirling Rickon around, while Greyjoy watched her, drooling as usual. Everyone knew the idiot liked the young lady—except the lady herself. But in her defense, Theon Greyjoy was such a man-whore that it was hard to believe he was serious about her. Cassie didn't think he was, anyway.
Dancing and laughing, the little Sand girl and Bran were also in the mix. Cassie smiled at the sight; it was nice to see how much fun they had together. She even noticed Lady Catelyn watching them from the table. Arya was running around the hall with little Palla, while Sansa chatted with her friend Jayne Pool. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, and Cassie decided it was time for her to look for Jon, as she had promised.
She searched for him, but it was as if he had vanished.
"Cassie!" She turned at the sound of Benjen's voice and saw him walking toward her.
"Ben!" she exclaimed with a smile. Ben was very important to Cassie; she had grown up with him, and he had taught her a lot at the Wall. He smiled at her, but there was something strange in his eyes.
"Is everything alright?" Cassie asked, concern creeping into her voice. Something was off with him.
"It's just something Jon said," he replied after taking a breath. Her eyes widened—so Jon was in the hall.
"You've seen Jon," she stated, not even asking. Then she looked at Ben. "What did he say?"
Benjen put his hands on his hips before answering. "He wants to become a brother of the Night's Watch."
Cassie's eyes widened further. He wouldn't. He couldn't. "Have you told him to stop being an idiot?" She asked with urgency.
"I've tried to dissuade him, if that's what you're asking," Ben said. "He didn't want to listen to me."
He couldn't.
Ben took a breath. "He wants me to talk to his father."
Cassie shook her head, looking at her feet. How could he even think about it? Why? What was going on in that idiot's mind?
"I'm sure he was just angry." At her words, Cassie looked up.
Jon was angry, she knew. She thought she understood why. Stupid idiot. If he had let her talk to Lady Catelyn, he'd be at the table drinking and laughing.
"Where is he?" she asked Ben, urgency creeping into her voice.
"Cassie—"
"Ben, where is he?"
The man took a breath. "He went outside."
Cassandra didn't wait another second; she dashed out of the main hall, ignoring Ben's voice calling her name.
If Jon was drunk and upset, she needed to bring some sense back to that hard head of his. The Wall. Why would he think about the Wall?
When Jon Snow was angry, he usually walked in the gardens of the castle. If she had been lucky, in an hour, she would have found him, and maybe he would have been more reasonable. It hadn't been a long time since she heard Jon's voice. She was coming out of the shadow when she heard her uncle Tyrion's voice.
"All dwarfs are bastards in their fathers' eyes." Cassie's back was against the warm wall of Winterfell, and she listened closer. She had imagined Jon was upset because of his last name, and she wasn't happy he had met her uncle. "Remember. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need to be dwarfs."
Cassie's blue eyes showed all the anger she was feeling at that moment.
"What have you told him?" she said once he walked past her.
"Cassandra," the man turned, looking up at the girl with surprised eyes
"What have you told him?" She repeated with a hiss. But that only made her uncle curious.
"Is that care what I heard in your voice?" his lips turned in a little smirk. "It is extremely unlikely of you," Cassandra ignored his comment.
"If I came to know you've done something-" the princess was saying, but her uncle chuckled.
"What have I done?" At his words, she shook her head.
"He wants to become a man of the Night's Watch." She exclaimed.
"I see," he said, making her glare down at him. "This is not your matter, though."
She found herself laughing at those words, that the man had no idea of what he was talking about. "Maybe it's time for him to think about his own future."
"Future?" She hissed, and her uncle nodded his head.
"Of course," he said. "That could be his best choice. What future does he have here."
He had no idea. He always thought he knew everything, but he had no idea.
Cassie looked at her uncle dead in the eyes. "Not all fathers are like Tywin Lannister." Ned was nothing like her grandfather. He loved all his sons. He would have done anything for them—all of them.
"You cannot understand what it feels to be like us, dear niece," he said, glaring as well. Look at you. You have the name, the beauty, power, and respect," he smirked like he had made a point. You have everything," Cassie said, looking at her uncle.
"And you have mind, money, and respect, and yet you now conveniently speak as if your name isn't Lannister." he looked at her with his different colored eyes; he didn't like her answer, but he didn't have the time to say anything back because she walked away from him. No one knew what the Wall was like; they couldn't judge, and her uncle couldn't compare someone like Tywin Lannister to a good man like Ned.
Future. What future was he talking about?
She stalked towards Jon, who was caressing his direwolf. Her steps made noise in the night, even if it was possible to hear music and laughter from the inside of the castle. When he noticed her presence, Jon turned fully towards her.
"I've met your uncle."
"Yes, you'll get over it." At her words, he frowned, not understanding, but she didn't care.
"Are you serious about taking the Black?" She glared at him with her deep blue eyes, stunned by his silence.
"You're a fool," she spat, and Jon widened his eyes.
"What?"
"You heard me!"
He wasn't pleased with her words, but she wasn't pleased with his either.
"Why shouldn't I?" He argued.
"Because you have a life here," she started to get angry.
"Do I?" He fired back.
"Of course!"
"I do not think it in that way," he said, turning to leave, but she grabbed him by his vest and twisted him so that he was looking at her.
"Do you have any idea of what it means to become one of them?"
Jon rolled his eyes. "Yes, Cassie. Thank you."
"Oh, do you?!" She argued, nearly yelling.
"It means I will have a chance," he answered. "A future." Cassie looked at him for a moment before letting go of his vest.
"You are not that stupid, Jon Snow, to give up all your life just because you are a bastard," she said softly, almost whispering. She hoped to talk sense back into him, but the boy stepped away from her.
"You have no idea, Cassie!" Jon exclaimed, "You have no idea what it feels like to be like me."
"Yeah," she said. "You are leaving an awful life behind you. I'm sorry, Jon. How insensitive of me." He shook his head, and she almost laughed angrily at his attitude.
"This has nothing to do with you," Jon exclaimed. "I'm fifteen, I'm almost a man, and this is my choice!"
Cassie looked at him in the eyes. He was stupid. He was a fool. He had no idea of what he was heading to.
"I don't have any idea of how it feels to be like you," Cassie said, and her eyes became cold as she got closer again. This time, he didn't step back, glaring back at her.
"You want to end your days alone in the cold? Do it" her voice was almost venomous, she had never talk to him like that, and she had never thought she would have ever done it. Then she turned her back to Jon and started to walk towards the entrance again. "I don't give a shit about you anyway."
Cassandra didn't turn to look at him, she walked straight in the castle.
Damn, Jon Snow.
He was stupid, a fool. He made a choice without knowing what he was getting himself into.
He had no idea what it meant to be at the Wall, and nobody had it.