Chapter 1: The King Needs a New Hand

It wasn't her handmaiden who woke Cassana up in the morning. Feeling herself wake up, yet not hearing the gentle call of her handmaiden, or smelling her breakfast left her feeling a little bit confused as to why she had woken up. Then the bells tolled again, and she realised that they were the cause.

This realisation caused her to bolt upright in bed, her blonde hair swinging forward in a curtain. With no important weddings or births due in the capitol, the bells could only mean one thing, death. As for whose death, Cassana knew of only one person in the castle who had been ill enough to suspect.

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King.

Resenting the early interruption to her sleep, but knowing that sooner or later someone would be in to rouse her anyway, Cassana pushed back her blankets with a sigh. And she'd been having such a nice dream too.

She stood in front of the dais, bowed low before her King, who sat high above her on the majestic Iron Throne of Westeros. The entire Court and many other nobles stood assembled behind her, and the feel of everyone's eyes on her gave her a feeling of nervousness that she rarely experienced. Having grown up at Court, and being in her position, she was used to the attention of others. But this felt different, this felt special.

A hush fell across the room as King Robert began to speak.

"My eldest child and daughter, Cassana Baratheon," he intoned, "I hereby name you as my heir, and heir to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. When the Gods take me, you shall take the Iron Throne, and rule as I once did. It is yours by right of birth and blood."

Cassana felt a sudden intake of breath cut to her lungs as she gave a gasp of shock. A roar rose up from the audience behind her, every single voice raised in cheer. Well, all but one. To the right of her father stood her younger brother. Anger and resentment radiated from Joffrey, the glare he sent his sister was pure poison, but there was nothing he could do.

Cassana barely even noticed him, beyond the slight feeling of smugness that she had taken his precious status as Crown Prince from him. She didn't notice because her mother had come to her and pulled her into a tight hug, whispering in her ear.

"My daughter, my favourite, you deserve this more than anyone."

And in that moment, as the bells tolled joyously in the background, Cassana had been the happiest she'd ever felt in her entire life.

That is, until she woke up to discover that the bells really were tolling, and rousing her from her longed for dream. A frown creased her brow as she pulled her robe on over her nightdress, that dream would never come into reality. Joffrey would get everything, despite being a terror. He would get the throne, the kingdoms, and all of their mother's affections. A wave of jealousy rose up within her, but she was forced to squash it back down when she heard the door to her apartments opening.

"Olena? I need you to-" she broke off, realising that it wasn't her maid, "Mother, what can I do for you?"

"You heard the bells, I presume," Cersei said; sitting herself down in one of Cassana's chaise lounges.

"They woke me," Cassana complained; flopping down into the opposing lounge.

"They are abominably loud in this part of the Keep," Cersei agreed. "I would offer you breakfast, but my maid hasn't brought it yet," Cassana apologised.

"I intercepted her on her way here, and informed her that I would be dining with you, she had to go back and get more."

A jolt of surprise ran through Cassana. It wasn't often that her mother sought her out for alone time like this. When Cassana had been little, Cersei had constantly made time for her, and Cassana had loved it. Back then, both of her parents had doted on her. But, as the years went by, she and her father grew more and more distant, and she had to fight harder with Joffrey for their mother's affections.

She recovered herself though, "What happens now?"

"What always does when a hand dies," her mother replied with a shrug, "Your father will choose a new Hand, and life in the Capitol will continue."

"But it won't be the same, will it?"

Cassana couldn't explain why she said it, but as soon as she did, she knew it was true. The passing of Jon Arryn, one of her father's oldest friends and father figure, would mean a great many changes for the running of the Kingdoms.

"Yes, yes I do believe it will," Cersei agreed, "We can influence it in our favour however, by influencing who your father picks."

"Do you think we can do that?" Cassana asked; doubt creeping into her tone, she knew her father's stubbornness.

"Your father can be… set in his ways," Cersei said, reading Cass' mind, "However, I pray that we can convince him what the right course of action for this situation is."

"What-"

But Cassana was interrupted when her handmaiden returned, leading a trio of other servants bearing breakfast for the Queen and Princess.

"Where would you like your breakfast, highnesses?" Olena asked; curtsying before the royal women.

"We'll take it in front of the balcony," Cassana replied, her mother did not object.

She and Cersei held their conversation on pause as the servants opened her balcony doors, moved the table over to them, and set up the repast. Cassana's dormant hunger rose at the sight and smell of the food. Pastries, breads, fruit, cold meats, a pot of chilled tea imported from the Summer Isles, juices, and water.

"Will there be anything else, Princess?" Olena inquired as soon as the meal was laid out.

"No thank you, Olena, you may go," Cassana commanded, "But wait by the door, I'll call you in to help me dress later."

"Yes, Princess," Olena bobbed another curtsy before leaving the room, ushering the other servants ahead of her.

Mother and daughter rose as one when the help left, crossing over to the table, and taking the opposite positions which had been laid for them.

"Tea?" Cassana offered; proffering the pot to her mother.

Cersei held out a her cup, "Thank you, daughter."

"So, what is the right course of action?" Cassana asked as she poured first her mother's tea, then her own, "I'm assuming you have someone chosen?"

"Your grandfather," Cersei replied; helping herself to the selection of pre-cut fruits.

Cassana smiled. Of course, grandfather, the mighty Tywin Lannister. He really was the perfect choice. She loved her grandfather, and she always knew that he put family first, there was no loss in her eyes with him being made Hand of the King.

She nodded as she selected herself a pastry filled with berries, "Grandfather is an excellent choice. He is largely responsible for father being able to gain the throne, he has previous experience as Hand, not to mention his skill with politics. I can't imagine why father wouldn't choose him himself."

"Do remember that your father did not choose him after the war, he chose Jon Arryn instead," Cersei reminded.

"Yes, yes," Cassana said, taking a quite bite before continuing, "But that was years ago, and Jon Arryn had been father's father figure ever since father was fostered at the Eyrie, and he had been one of the first people to support his rebellion. He wasn't a bad hand, and I understand why father chose him then, but now he has the chance to make a better choice, surely he will do so."

"I wouldn't put too much faith in your father's intelligence when it comes to decisions like this, he gets far too sentimental," Cersei took a sip of her tea, "As Jon Arryn grew older, he talked about taking on Ned Stark as his next Hand."

Cassana choked on the bite of pastry she had just been about to swallow, and had to sip some tea after the ensuing coughing fit which arose. This was her general reaction to having the Starks mentioned recently. The closer it got to her seventeenth name-day, the more nervous she grew whenever she heard that name.

"But… Lord Stark hasn't been South since the war. He hates politics, he doesn't know anything about King's Landing or running the Kingdoms. Even if father offered, I'm sure he'd turn it down, father must know that and see that it's pointless."

Cassana knew she was babbling, and from the level look her mother was giving her, she knew too.

"Cass…why is it that you get so nervous when the Starks are mentioned recently? The engagement has been in place since you were born, though I wish to the Gods that it wasn't."

"It's just… getting close," Cassana replied pathetically, "I still haven't even met him, we haven't written to each other since we were little. I don't know what I'll be walking into when the time comes."

Cersei reached across the table to grasp her daughter's hand, "I didn't know your father before I married him. But from what we know, Robb Stark doesn't drink in excess, he doesn't whore and father bastards everywhere he goes, and you've had no one go before you. That's a better start than I had."

"I know," Cassana squeezed her mother's hand comfortingly, then composed herself, "Well, how do we make sure that father makes the right choice for the Kingdoms?"

"I have already spoken to him about it," Cersei pulled back, "But he won't listen to me alone. I've already met with most of the Small Council, and they have assured me that they will try to sway him, I should like you to do the same."

An unladylike snort escaped Cassana before she could stop it, "Father wouldn't listen to me."

"Well, then it won't hurt to try," Cersei countered.

"Alright," Cassana sighed, rubbing at her temples, "How has Lysa taken her husband's death?"

A grimace tightened her mother's face, "She has left the capitol already, taking her son with her."

That news shocked Cassana yet again. Why would Lysa leave so soon after Jon's death? Cassana knew that there was no love between the couple, but surely it is a wife's duty to oversee her own husband's funeral rites. That Lysa Arryn had not even stayed long enough for that made Cassana feel very worried. What could cause her to seemingly flee her husband's death?

/*0*/

Later on that afternoon Cassana was hurrying down the corridors or the Red Keep, attempting to smooth the creases from her simple dress as she walked. Simple, tastefully sombre, but not a mourners black; that was suitable attire for a royal family member following the death of a Hand.

"What does father want?" Tommen pipped up from behind.

Cassana cast a glance over her shoulder at the two little siblings who were following in her wake.

"I don't know, he's called us all in to meet him, and he'll tell us then."

Both Tommen and Myrcella looked a little crestfallen at not knowing what they had been called away from play for, and on the inside Cassana shared that emotion, with added apprehension. They were still only children, and were not quite able to comprehend the impact that Jon Arryn's death would have on their lives, depending on what their father chose to do, which may be what he called them together for.

As the three royal siblings swept into her father's private chambers, Cassana saw that their mother and Joffrey were already in attendance. Inclining her head in a respectful not to her father, and dropped a small curtsy for good measure.

"My apologies if I am late."

"No, no," her father turned away from the window, as always, with a wine glass in hand.

"Well, Robert, what have you called us all in here for?" Cersei demanded; shooting a contemptuous glass at her rotund and undoubtedly drunk husband.

"I met with the Small Council earlier," he announced, "Blasted annoying those meetings. But the heart of it is, I've chosen my new Hand, I am going to ask Ned Stark."

"Robert, you can't!"

"Father, you can't!"

Three separate protests, one from Cersei, one from Joffrey, and the other from Cassana; Tommen and Myrcella said nothing, simply looked between their siblings and parents silently.

Robert arched one eyebrow at his family, "Oh, you don't agree do you? Well that's too damned bad, I've made up my mind, and I've already sent a raven telling him that the Royal Court will be travelling to Winterfell."

"Travelling?" Cersei repeated; aghast, "Surely you can't be serious."

"I'm bloody serious," he countered, "The reasons why will not be public knowledge, though I suspect many will guess. I will ask him in person."

"Because you know he would refuse a raven, because you know he will refuse the offer," Cersei stated bluntly.

"He won't refuse me," Robert refuted adamantly.

"Father, you know that he wouldn't want it anyway!" Cassana blurted out, "Why not just make grandfather the Hand? He is a far better-"

"Ha!" Robert interrupted, turning to Cersei, "You got to her first as well, woman?"

"He is the logical choice!" Cassana exclaimed before her mother could reply to her husband's barb, "Why not?"

"Because I am King," Robert stated bluntly, "And as King, I choose not to choose your political snake of a grandfather!"

"Robert! How dare you speak of my father like that," Cersei fumed.

"I'll speak of him as I damn well please," Robert said offhandedly.

"Does the whole Court have to travel?" Cassana questioned, "Surely just a small party would suffice?"

Robert fixed her with an even stare, and she felt her stomach drop.

"Even if that were the case, you would still be in that small party," he said, "I also wrote in the letter that your marriage to Robb Stark would be brought forward, and that the reason we travel to Winterfell is for the ceremony."

Cassana felt the wind driven out of her, "But, father, you agreed-"

"You promised that it would wait until she was seventeen!" Cersei interjected angrily, "You-"

"Seventeen, sixteen, it doesn't make a difference," he said, "Girls younger than her are married already, some even have birthed a baby or two, she is well old enough."

"But, Robert-"

"No," he cut her off sharply, "I let you have your way when you refused to let her be fostered at Winterfell, you will not have it now. Perhaps if I had not bent to you then, this would not be an issue now."

"Surely this should be a happy day for you, sister dear," Joffrey put in smugly, "Don't all women just dream of their weddings?"

Cassana shot him a glare, but his smug expression didn't change. Whatever annoyance he felt about his father's choice was superseded by the joy he felt in knowing that Cassana wouldn't enjoy having her marriage brought forward. He was made happy by her own worry and apprehension concerning the union.

Oh how she hated him.

"I summoned you all to tell you the events," Robert said, "I have told you. Ned Stark will be my new Hand, Cassana and Robb will marry when we reach Winterfell, we leave in a week. This has been decided, there is no changing it. You are all dismissed."

Cassana took one more angry look at her father, and saw that he meant every word he had just said.

Her fury doubling, she turned and stormed out of the room ahead of her family.