The Storm Queen | Game of Thrones

Sixteen

Cassana

Margaery's lips are on my neck as I stand before my mirror, her hands on the laces of my new dress, securing them. One of black and gold, true Baratheon colours.

And for the first time I open the vault which contains the most precious crown jewels, and lift the diadem I was gifted upon my birth, worn by my great grandmother, Rhaelle Targaryen.

With trembling hands I place the crown upon my head, my birthright.

She accompanies me as I walk the halls, the very picture of nobility. People bow their heads as I pass by, my feet taking my towards the throne room where they wait for me.

Beside it I find the council waiting, waiting for me.

Littlefinger and Varys exchange a look at the sight of me and it's Varys who says "It seems most fitting to me that the Kings representative should represent him now."

"This is absurd!" Pycelle scoffs. "A woman seated on the Iron Throne, have you lost your wits?"

"I agree with Lord Varys," Littlefinger says curiously enough.

"It will cause chaos!" Pycelle protests and I see that little smirk on Littlefingers face.

"Perhaps a little chaos is what we all need," Littlefinger says.

"The king said it would be her," Ned says, ending the debate then and there. "They've waited long enough."

They allow me to lead them into the throne room where the people await us, and we are announced.

"Representative of the King, Princess Cassana of House Baratheon."

The court watches with wide eyes and whispers as I enter and ascend the steps to the throne. My hand rests on the pommel of one of the many swords which forged it as I take my rightful seat on the Iron Throne and hear the gasps of the court. I can't keep the sly smile from my face as I shock the entirety of the court by ascending those stairs and taking my place on the Iron Throne.

From the small folk to the high lords and ladies, they all stare bewildered upon me, the scandal of the Seven Kingdoms.

"My lords," I address, and none dare to question me, the one whom sits upon the Iron Throne. "Shall we begin?"

After deliberation amongst the crowd, a man comes forward looking rather distressed and we listen as he tells us "They burned almost everything in the Riverlands, our fields, our granaries, our homes. They took our women and then they took them again. When they was done, they butchered them as if they was animals. They covered our children in pitch and lit them on fire."

My stomach churns and my face is stone. The thought of it horrifies me, woman raped and slaughtered. Children set alight. These people may not be my blood but they are my people. 

"I promise you that you will be given justice. I am the kings daughter and it is my duty to my people to provide protection and justice. These truly horrific acts will not go unpunished," I promise him with every intention of keeping it. "I am so very sorry for what has befallen your people."

"Brigands, most likely," Pycelle dismisses as if he'd just been told a loaf of bread was stolen.

"Quieten," I order Pycelle who gapes at me in offence. 

"They weren't thieves," the man insists "They didn't steal nothing. They even left something behind, your Grace."

"Show us," Ned orders and another man walks forward and empties a sack onto the floor. A pile of foul smelling fish. 

Ned and I immediately know the meaning of this but Littlefinger still feels it necessary to comment "Fish. The sigil of House Tully." He then whispers to Ned "Isn't that your wife's house, Tully, my Lord Hand?"