A/N:

Successful weekly updating after years-hiatus? What? Hopefully this trend can continue as grad school continues to kick my ass.

Also if anyone wants to talk about this series' finale...I'll be off crying somewhere. At least I can say my story doesn't lack setup (be prepared for more of it below...).

Cassana Baratheon was drunk.

She knew it, had known it for a while, and though she had no intention to be drunk on her nameday, every suitor she had danced with had handed her a glass of wine and she had drank it. Sips at first and then gulps and then pours, and soon her whole body was warm and unbridled. She was laughing and twirling, the room feeling hot and full with harps and lutes and loud voices. All of it felt so absolutely freeing when her brother had finally arrived and grabbed her by the shoulder.

"My apologies, sweet sister." Renly kissed her on both cheeks and pulled her into a hug. "You must dance with me."

"Where have you been?" She pouted and touched the gold buttons of his doublet. "They're uneven."

"Excuse me?"

"Your coat. It's…" Cass fell again into laughter. Her youngest brother was usually much too vain to be caught with his buttons not perfectly aligned. This Renly looked ridiculous, almost harried. "Come now. Let us dance. I'll then forgive you for not escorting me."

She did not recognize the song the bard was singing, but it was rhythmic and quick. Renly led her through most of it, holding her up by the waist when her feet stumbled over themselves. "You are completely drunk."

Cassana shook her head. The action caused the hall to spin. "Why…yes. I am, aren't I?"

"The lords won't like that." Renly leaned to whisper. "Did your Septas not explain this night to you?"

"They did, and I do not like the lords, so I hardly see why it matters." She started to lead Renly, albeit slowly at first while her head recovered. The Great Hall was musty with the scent of sweat, ale, and roasting meat. The long feast tables were piled high with pies and boar, and Cassana looked to her oldest brother on the dais. He sat there, cheeks red, one hand grasping a loaf of bread while the other groped a passing serving girl. His wife sat next to him—beautiful and golden. Her hands were wrapped around her drink, and she gazed out on the floor looking almost…sad. The thought had Cassana frowning. She touched her brother's shoulders, halting his dance steps. "You should ask Cersei."

"Pardon?"

"To dance."

Renly scoffed and took her hand, guiding her into a quick spin. Cassana wobbled from the action but managed to remain standing. "And why would I do that?"

"She is your other sister…in a sense. She is sad."

"You are my true sister."

"But I am happy." She smiled for good measure. "And I have been dancing all night. Please, Renly. Please."

Her brother shook his head and touched his thumb over her lip. "You are a nuisance."

"No, just drunk. Please."

"Fine." He turned to face the dais and shouted over his shoulder. "She will say no."

Cersei did say no. Cassana watched as her eyebrows raised in utter confusion at the young lord before turning back to her food and her children next to her. Renly lifted his shoulders before bowing to Cassana, excusing himself from any further dancing. She didn't mind. She had tried to make the queen happy, but it was no issue to her if Cersei decided to remain stagnant in her seat. Soon Cass found herself at the edge of the floor dedicated to dancing, feeling much too off-balanced to be taken by another young lord.

Her guards followed her towards the bronze doors of the Great Hall. Every step was thoughtfully calculated yet she started to notice how slow she was to move, how the floor was not where she thought it would be when she placed her foot down upon it. The mixed marble stones started to twist and merge, and a hand soon grabbed her elbow. "Let me escort you."

"Ser Jaime?" Her eyebrows lifted in recognition. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"You forget so quickly that I am your escort? I'll take her to the sea wall." He was addressing her guards, and the Baratheon men patted him on the shoulder, apparently agreeing that was exactly what she needed.

She did not. "Why are you taking me to the sea wall? I do not wish to see the sea."

"You do. You don't know it yet. And don't argue. Your head will hurt more from it."

It was a longer walk than she would have liked to the sea wall and the rush of Blackwater Bay. The path was uneven, hazardous to her at parts though she had never truly thought of them as such before. Awkwardly, Cass leaned into Jaime's grip as they crossed the border to the outside walls. The stars were clouded causing the night to seem deep and dense and dark. Fires were lit across the wall, igniting their path, and she could see the gold cloaks lingering on every entrance. Jaime did his best to walk far from them all, loosening his grip on her elbow and shoulders before grabbing her by the waist. "Ready?" He did not wait for a response and raised her on top of the wall, holding her steady so that she did not lean back and fall. The sea breeze hit her easily. It was calming, chilling her core and lightening the cloud in her head. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"No. Turn around."

Her eyes flashed. "Why?"

"You need to retch."

She refused to. She told him as such. "A lady does not retch on her nameday."

The knight laughed in her face, brazen and loud. "And how lady-like you are now! Grab my hand."

Cassana obeyed and grasped his hand as the knight helped her down from the wall. Her head was still dizzy, still throbbing with weight. She reached to balance herself on the brass armor of the Kingsguard, face igniting warmth in comparison to the cold metal plate. The crown was outlined in great detail, and she traced it, trance-like, eyes straying up slowly to the green ones across from her. "…Thank you."

The knight shifted towards the bay, and Cassana moved to follow him. She could see no ships in this weather. No moon. Just blackness and water and rocks. She found herself grimacing, and her nails scraped against the stone wall. "It's hideous, isn't it?"

Jaime turned to her. She could feel the heat of his gaze, but she did not move to look. She tried to follow the waves of the bay, watching them rock back and forth against the rocks of the Keep. "I hate this place."

"Most do not agree with you."

"They're foolish then. It is a dangerous pile of rocks. Why did you bring me here?"

Jaime turned to her and leaned on his elbows. His sword clamored at his side. "You were sick. I thought it would help you."

"How kind."

"You're angry." He sounded surprised, and Cassana herself was shocked that he could sense that in her tone even before she could. "You were giddy just a moment ago, Cass." He pushed on her shoulder and forced her to face him. "Tell me."

"It is of no importance." Her own mind needed to untangle why.

He did not press on the issue but turned back to face the water. His eyes were seemingly memorized by the shoreline, and Cassana wondered, not for the first time, what the man was thinking. There was a burden Jaime Lannister carried, and as much as she tried, she could not figure out what that could be. His throat bobbed up and down when he spoke again, "Your mother loved the sea."

Cassana spat. "How could she?"

"Well, for one thing, she did not know it was going to kill her." His smirk was challenging, offensive, but Cass did not touch upon it. "I only met the Lady of Storm's End briefly, but she spoke to me of Casterly Rock and the Sunset Sea. She said it reminded her of home."

"Of Storm's End?"

"No, Greenstone."

Her head fell. The crash of waves was becoming louder and louder with each breath she took, and the pain in her head doubled. "Do you think she was happy?"

Jaime looked down to her. His lips were parted slightly, as if he were struggling with what to say. She had never seen him like this before—a strange quiet calm replacing the audaciousness and pride. "I said I only met her briefly."

"And your sister…is she happy?"

"She is the Queen of Westeros."

"That wasn't the question." There was no answer from the man next to her, and Cassana expected she would not receive one. She shifted in her heeled boots, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and naked. "What if I wanted to marry for love?" She swallowed hard. "Is that so foolish?"

"You know what I think on that, Cassana."

"I don't own any lands or keeps outright. I don't need…"

"You say that." His voice was thick, bitter. "But do you remember who you are? How you have lived? You would marry a pig farmer? A bastard? Just because you love them?"

"And why not? You said it yourself. We do not choose the ones we love."

He laughed at her. It sounded pained and vile. "Were your suitors that miserable?"

Yes and no. They were…expected. Rich, polite, dutiful. They would dance around her, beg for her hand, a token, anything. At first, she was flattered, but it was not real. It was a façade, a play that they were performing, and Cass despised her role. And though she knew she could not ask otherwise, had prayed only for a suitable, respectable match, there was still an incredible part of her that was hesitant. "They just tell me how beautiful I am."

"You are, you know."

She must have drunk more wine than she originally thought. The whole Red Keep seem to spin. "I'm sorry?"

Jaime didn't falter. "You are beautiful." He stared at her, green eyes etching over her face. The wine was rushing to her cheeks, and she felt warm, dizzy, but most of all exposed. Cassana leaned forward on the wall and turned away from the man. Jaime continued, "They would be idiots not to see that."

"You are too kind."

"I am not, and you know that." He swayed, the metal plate of his armor clinking and sounding like bells. "But if that is the only thing they see, then I forbid you from marrying them."

Her smile was small but pervasive. "Most of them also see my title."

"Fuck your title, Cassana."

"My title is everything." Her chin fell, downcast. The flush of wine was leaving, and she could taste the salt of the sea spray on her lips. It tasted bitter, dry. She wanted to spit on the stone but restrained herself. Jaime would think her sick still. "And I worry that your right. I…I can't live a life of a farmer, can I? Of some simple liege lord?" The stone walls felt hard and corrosive on her already calloused hand. "I've barely been outside these walls."

"Wherever you go, you'll be fine, Cass."

She turned to him, and his face was shadowed, too stoic. His blond hair looked almost red from the faraway torch light. The rush of waves hammering behind them was hypnotic, terrifying and an unexpected feeling of hollowness overwhelmed her. "No, I won't."

The knight grunted next to her. "This is too fucking depressing. Let's get out of here."

"And go where?"

"Somewhere else." Jaime offered her his hand again, and she took it without question.

"We've been going about this wrong."

Cassana raised her head off the large, stone table. Her frustrations surrounding the small council sessions were mounting. They were long, arduous, and most of the items they discussed were unactionable while Daenerys Targaryen was still missing. "Let's start over then. Are we out of wine?"

"Sometimes I forget your lineage, Cass, until you go about saying things like that." Tyrion half-laughed before pushing the pitcher of alcohol closer to her. "You worked with Lord Baelish in the treasury from time to time, did you not?"

That was a memory she had long pushed aside, into the recesses of her mind to replace with more important, more vivid events. "I have."

"And tell me, how does trade work in Westeros?"

The room shifted to stare at her, entranced. Cass did not see the interest. "It's a complicated and might I add dull matter. Trade restrictions and law are made and regulated by the crown. Lords of each kingdom are allowed to trade directly with others and petition the crown for any changes."

"And if there's war?"

"War?" She had never really been in the treasury during times of war. "Then I suppose we just hope your father lends us more gold."

"There's a few other nuances." Tyrion eyed the map. "You'd give Starks the North, the Greyjoys the Iron Islands, but they still have need for the south when summer ends. They need access. If they are not one of our kingdoms, how can we give it to them?"

"Are you threatening them with starvation if they do not join us?"

"What would your choices be? If winter comes and both Winterfell and Storm's End are starving? If the Stormlands are your reign and the North is not, who do you save?"
She could follow the thought.

"It needs to be brought peacefully." Cass swallowed. It was unsteady holding a room like this, eyes on her, voices silent as she spoke. This had not been her expectation when she agreed to join the small council, and though it made her uneasy, it also made her feel…powerful. "Ned Stark is a man I would rather be on our side."

Varys nodded. The man, though enemy to them now, held a surprising amount of love in this room, Cass realized. "Have you heard back from your bannermen, Lady Cassana?"

"Yes. They will hold Dragonstone for us. They only wait my command." It had only been a week since her first raven left that she received word again. Her mouth held a straight line. "But I'm sure you already know that."

"Apologies, but I've actually been focusing more of my attention on this side of the Narrow Sea. It is well and good to talk about the games of lords, and trust me, I love the game as much as you both." Vary's words made Cass squirm. No part of her liked this at all. "But as you know an army approaches us."

The news that the other slaver cities were marching towards Meereen caught wind five days ago. Cassana, despite her talk of war camps and houses, felt useless at the thought. They need Robb more than me. But no, the North needed Robb, had always needed him. She watched as Grey Worm outlined the plan of attack. The Dothraki to flank, the Second Sons to man the walls while the Unsullied maneuvered the armies into positions Cass had no business knowing.

But she wanted to know them. She had no mind for war, but two of her brothers did. She leaned over the table to hear better, eyes watching the mock battalions move and push around the slowly fading map. Tyrion asked where the civilians would go, and yes, of course—why hadn't she thought of that?

They would be pushed behind the Great Pyramid, asked to move but some would not. Some would stay and die in the homes they had never left.

"And what if this is coordinated?" Cass eyed the grander map of the city that had been pulled for this meeting. This one had a minutia of detail—of hundreds of alleyways and smaller roads nestled and weaved throughout the foreign city. King's Landing must be similar. She had lived there for most of her life but had never thought of the capital like that. "We know they are funding the Sons of the Harpy. Our enemy is already inside."

"We will also have Unsullied stationed around the Great Pyramid." Grey Worm informed her.

"But what of all these streets?" Cassana glanced around the room. "What of the former slaves you said will not run?"

"We cannot protect them all." Grey Worm answered definitively.

That cannot be acceptable. She waited for others to object but they had already moved on. While Cassana could impart some knowledge on Westerosi tactics, she was lost in Meereen. Grey Worm and Barristan once again hashed through battle plan after battle plan as Varys discreetly pushed another pile of letters towards her.

More Stormlords? But these sigils had never gone north. Cass eyed Varys but held her tongue until the matters reverted back to Westeros. She looked to the onyx figures on the map. There were stags up and down the eastern coast, and she splayed out the letters, realizing most of those were hers. "Now that our speech strays from Essos, Lord Tyrion, if I may make a suggestion?"

Tyrion was only looking at the layers of parchment under her hands. "Please do."

"Both my brothers' bannermen have united. It seems that even some from the Reach flock to us now."

"Us?"

"Us," Cassana repeated. She stood from her seat to have better access to the Stormlands, the major Westeros map pushed aside with the looming talks of Essos. "Our men in the North have agreed to take Dragonstone, but the Stormlands are much closer. Those men can take it on behalf of Daenerys Targaryen."

"Stannis' fleet is better."

"Yes, maybe, but Lord Commander Snow begs for our aid, a queen's aid. We let our troops stay north and man the wall with him. Every other monarch abandons them but what better way to maintain the North's favor?"

Barristan huffed, "A waste of resources. Wildling raids are nothing to a true soldier."

"Then it should be easy for them," Tyrion bit back, smiling. "Good. I like this. I like this a lot. Send some of Stannis' troops to the Wall to protect Ned Stark's son and the others to the Vale."

Her eyes widened. "…the Vale?"

"Only after I write to Ned Stark, of course. Or maybe that would be better from you, Cass? Offer our troops for fealty. He promised it to your brother. Make him promise for your new queen."

What queen? She pushed half of the figures in the direction Tyrion dictated. "Earn more of the North's love that way, yes?" They will be flying stag banners. Do you know that? "I'll do it immediately." She needed to be sure that letter arrived before Robb did. The impatience stemming from Grey Worm was prominent. Cass moved back to her seat, dark eyes on the dragon figure. "How much longer until they come for us here?"

"Two days," Grey Worm said no more, but she knew. Westeros would be just a memory if this city was taken.

For all the war camps Cassana had traveled in, she realized she had never been in a city under siege. There was a false sense of security surrounding it, a weird, dreadful calm. She had not been allowed outside the Great Pyramid, and nor did she want to be. The Unsullied and Second Sons were manning the streets, herding the citizens like cattle deeper into the city and further from penetrable walls. They are still not safe. The enemy was already here, hiding. They would kill all who would not up-rise against them, and the small council—she—would let them die.

Tyrion was allowed out, was needed out. Cassana had learned very quickly that his cleverness was not restricted to witty remarks and books. The archer towers were manned, the golden harpy statues equipped with burning oil to rain on whoever came near. He is Tywin's son. The true lion was more apparent now in these times of blood.

Her prison for this siege was more a library, a small circular room stacked with old books Illyrio had once given Daenerys Targaryen. She felt the spines of almost all of them, struggling to read the ones not written in the Common tongue. I've never even seen most of these. She fell back into a stiff chair. Do the good knight still slay dragons?

The pain in her chest and back seemed to slowly spread through her body. Fear was pervasive and was slowly becoming a steady, familiar companion in Cassana's life. She let it chip away at her nerves, the senseless waiting driving her absolutely mad even with Missandei beside her. She had never talked much to the former slave, and even now, they sat in relative silence—Cass lost in thought while the translator read voraciously.

"You're not frightened?" Missandei hadn't looked up from her book. The shouting was becoming louder throughout the pyramid though no noise could be heard outside.

"Do I give that impression? I am petrified. And you?"

Missandei closed the thick book she was reading. Her dark hands placed it to the side of the chaise she sat on. "When you begin to welcome death at a young age, little frightens you any longer."

Cassana shifted through the room, light blue linen following her steps. Missandei moved to give her space to sit next to her. The Tragedy of Summerhall. Cass eyed the book with vivid memory. "Queen Daenerys saved you, did she not?"

"Aye, my lady. I owe her my freedom."

"And how did she do it? Forgive me for saying this, but it appears I have missed our queen's best feats."

"Her best feats are yet to come as I am sure you know." Missandei swallowed at Cass' silence. "But I will tell you. She bought me from my slaver."

"Bought you and all of these Unsullied?" Cassana sniffed, letting the levity ease some of the anxiousness in her form. "Worth the price I'm sure," The words sounded poor. "I would have also hoped, however, she saved more for ships."

"She did not pay for us."

Cass let her mouth fall open. "Pardon?"

At that, they both stopped. A scathing roar swept through the room, causing Cassana's hair to stand on end. She scrambled immediately to her feet, recognizing the shrill scream with a sense of both dread and excitement, and unbarred the sole window to the tiny study. There was nothing at first but hot eastern air, but then, incredibly, the dark scaled wing of a dragon skated past the window.

Did they escape? Her first instinct was to panic and run. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible, but Missandei held her shoulders, eyes hopeful. "Our queen has returned." The hands over her shoulders held firmly and guided her back to chaise. "It won't be long now. Relax, Cassana."

Her instinct forbade her to, but she followed stiffly to the chair, heart quaking at each roar that ripped through the sky. The book between her and Missandei still laid there and beckoned Cass' attention. But she did not move to grab it. She knew it by heart. Cassana's thoughts drifted to the dragon skulls in the deep cellars of King's Landing, of the living one currently screaming from outside her window. How do you tame a dragon without killing it? She did not have enough dragon blood in her to contemplate that thought.