Chapter Text
It was the time of year for petitions, every six moons or so, all of the smallfolk of the stormlands would gather to petition their concerns. Though of course, petitions were frequent for the smallfolk around the castle. The Round Hall was filled to the brim with people, servants walked around with wine and food, they should be fed after traveling for so long; leaving the homes, wives and children to come here. Why should they not be fed? Mutters and murmurs echoed off the dark stone and brick while the sound of drizzling rain hit against the windows. Thank the gods there was no storm today, it would have made traveling much more difficult.
Princess Cassandra Baratheon sat at the throne of the Round Hall, Cortnay Penrose at her side and Maester Jurne at the other. As lady of the castle — she took the petitions, all apart of the domestic duties she performed. It was one she enjoyed, listening to each wish or an issue she could fix — it made her feel powerful. It was also a way to relieve Ser Penrose of some issues, he should not have to bare so many duties when she was here. The Princess raised a hand, gesturing for the first person to come up.
A young boy came up first, bowing before standing up straight — he looked inexperienced and frail, sunken in eyes from exhaustion.
"My Lady — I mean, Princess….I have recently taken over my father's fishing business. Our shipment to the Marches has been raided by pirates. Our only ships taken, I have no way to provide for my sister and mother," his voice was shaken as he looked at her with pleading brown eyes.
The doe looked at Cortnay Penrose before back to the boy. Pirates and storms, that seemed to be the root of everyone's problems in these lands. Day in and day out, pirates and storms. Cassandra raised her chin just slightly, clearing her throat.
"You will be given three ships. Baring the Baratheon sigil, hope that they dare not attack you again while baring the king's sigil."
Her declaration made the boy bare a hopeful, puppy-like smile. He bowed twice before backing up and leaving the Round Hall. She was sure he would go run to his family to share the good news. A simple smile came about her own face and she gestured for the next petition, adjusting herself in her seat. She wished for a drink but during these she drank no wine nor had any food — that was reserved for them. It was fulfilling to see the smallfolk fill their bellies on sandwiches and fruit during petitions.
A small group of septas came first, dressed in muted colored robes of the seven. Though the one at the front wore soft grey robes with a belt made with a seven-color belt. The one in grey was an older woman — hair covered in a veil — the others were relatively younger, hair worn up in braids. They all curtsied at the same time while Cassandra smiled and nodded, silently gesturing to begin their petition. The older woman stood closer to the throne, she looked sorrowful — most older septas tended to. They dedicated their lives to so many things at once, she has seen the stress the position can cause. It is why she tries to donate and sponsor the motherhouse as much as she could.
"Princess, the recent storm has hit is quite difficulty. The motherhouse has been slightly flooded, though we have still been sweeping out as much water as we can. It has gotten to the nursery the worst — some of the wood of the cribs have already begun to rot." The Princess furrowed her brow at this, storms be damned, she thought.
"New cribs will be crafted along with pillows and blankets." The septas all smiled, taking sighs of relief. One of the younger girls rushed up and kissed the Princess' cheeks — causing her to laugh. She held the girls hands and squeezed them before she rushed back away, the gaggle of septas going towards the back of the hall to snack on fruits.
The day went on, petition after petition. Minor lord's holdfasts needing fixing, land disputes between stormlanders and reachmen on the marches. It was issue after issue. Some men got what they wanted, others clearly wanted to curse her name — older men having that look in their eyes, the one where they wanted to call her a stupid little girl. What did she know? Either way, they would dare not curse Robert Baratheon's daughter. They had started at dawn, took a brief break around midday, then they continued for the rest. As the sun began to set, the last petition was heard and left. Servants quickly began to clean up the hall and the Princess wiped her eyes before standing up from the throne. Cortnay left the hall along with Maester Jurne — assuming they would go get their supper. Standing in the archway was a tall, pure blonde girl with soft blue eyes. She looked worried, holding a scroll with the seal of the crown pressed in the paper.
"What is it Larissa?" She asked, coming over to her. Larissa Tarth, a year younger than herself and her head of household.
"A letter from The King, came this afternoon."
"Read it to me in my chamber, I will dine in there as well," she passed her friend while making her way towards the rooms. After Renly's departure, she had taken the lord's chambers and solar in the only tower, a nice room with a large window to replace the lack of terrace, she loved to watch the waves and the moon at night. The doe began to take the pins out of her hair, the multiple braids falling and slowly unraveling as they were released. As the sun set, servants were lighting the torches that lined the dark halls — the doe found this time more comforting than anything, the moment in time where the world would fall silent and she could be alone. Well, most of the time she could be.
The solar was filled with ladies sitting in chairs and on the couch while servants prepared the dining table, large enough to fit all six of them. Their movements had all paused and they bowed or curtsied at her arrival, causing a simple smile. She set the pins on a side table before sitting down on the settle that lined the south wall, a curved fixture that bore the large windows. Black and gold Myrish carpets lined the black stone floor, a white hart's head from decades ago mounted up above the hearth. The large portrait of Orys Baratheon and Argella Durrandon rested on the western wall, looming before them all, it had been there since before she was born, a reminder for the generations of lords who sat in this room. Surely a reminder for her as well. A tall woman with a simple yet silk gown kneeled down beside her, starting to undo her braids as her ladies sat back down — going about their business.
"Oh, thank you Floris," she said sweetly before turning her head towards Larissa, "what does it say?"
Larissa stood in front of her and unrolled the parchment, looking over it with careful eyes before clearing her throat. "On orders of King Robert Baratheon, First of his name, Princess Cassandra Baratheon is hereby ordered to join court and serve her duties as a Royal cupbearer to the small council." She glanced towards her before handing over the parchment. Cassandra gently took it and looked down at the words as Floris' hands raked through her curls. She was frankly confused, why would she be summoned? She had yet to see her family in three years, not even for her or her younger siblings birthdays. She furrowed her brows before rolling up the parchment, I have no wish to see my family, she thought as she sat the parchment down beside her leg.
"Floris?" She began, "may you go fetch Ser Cortnay?" The handmaid stood from her seat and bowed her head before leaving the solar, as the wonderful silence set in, Cassandra looked to the four of her companions who sat embroidering or reading.
"Ladies, I think I shall like to dine alone tonight. It has been a long day," she spoke solemnly, wishing not to disappoint them. Each of the ladies looked up from their activities while Larissa still stood before her. Jocelyn Swann, Roelle Estermont, Alysanne Connington and Larissa Tarth all gathered their things before wishing their Princess a good night and leaving the rooms. The door left open for the serving people that came in to place silver platters full of dinner that night. About four large covered platters set on the dark oak table, one girl aimed to open the trays but the doe held a hand up.
"I'll serve myself, thank you." She watched as they each bowed and left. Just as they left, Cortnay Penrose came in. In and out, she thought, they all just come in and out. Her eyes shifted to look up at the bald man who stood to attention — much like a soldier.
"What did you need, Princess?"
"I apologize, Ser Cortnay. I just wished to tell you that I am being summoned to court. I am sure you will thrive in all your duties here as you have been doing for these past six years." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, looking down in her lap as she waited for him to answer.
"I will have all of the arrangements prepared within a week — have a good evening, Princess." There were no emotions behind his words, he was a prudent man. Despite living with him all her life, there were no emotions attached to his words, he was worse than Stannis, she thought as she stood from her seat and went to the table.
The aromas of lemon and herbs already filled the room, she pulled off the lid of one platter — smoked salmon basted in garlic and lemon, another platter bore roasted potatoes and carrots cooked in a thick, honey-like pomegranate sauce. The third platter held a small plate of pomegranate cakes, just four of them. The doe picked up a porcelain plate painted with the black crowned stag, taking the salmon and small pile of sweet grass along with a spoonful of carrots and potatoes. She'd leave the cakes for later. Pouring herself a goblet of wine before taking the plate and goblet in her hands, walking over to the settle rather than the dining table. The Princess sat the plate and goblet on the large windowsill, sitting down and taking a blue pillow and resting it in her lap after smoothing out her skirts. She took the plate and setting it on the plate and began to eat her supper, listening to the puttering of the rain against the window.
Cassandra could scarcely remember the last time she had been in King's Landing, one of her earliest memories. The image of her being held in the sky, holding up a golden circlet that was too large for her head, the cheers from all over the Sept of Baelor, lords who were made to kneel and others that had actually supported the rebellion. She could remember her mother and father kneeling below the High Septon, new crowns had been crafted especially for the event. As a child she had wished to go back to Casterly Rock, she thought the capital stunk and was too much for her. The memory of her parents quick disdain for eachother, she would switch who she would dine with for an entire year before the news hit. She would leave for Storm's End after her sixth birthday.
And for years, she lived here with her uncle Renly, every other birthday was a visit up until her sixteenth birthday. A memory she did not wish to dwell on. Cassandra looked out the window once her food was finished, picking up her goblet of wine and taking a sip. The moon illuminated the room along with the various candles, she'd prefer just to have the moon shining down on her.
She hoped that court would be kind to her, and that she could have a short time there.