Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Theon

They broke their fast on buttered black bread, bacon, and fried fish.

As Theon Greyjoy was chewing on a piece of buttered bread, he surveyed the table. Theon's place was the last seat on the right of the table a position that ever reminded him that while he was a ward of the Starks he was not family.

In the seat to his left sat lord Stark's youngest pup, Rickon, a boy of three doing his best to feed himself without spilling over his grey tunic. Then came the boy Brandon, chewing on a bit of bacon as he glanced longingly at the sword belts and armor of the Men-at-arms eating below the Dias, the look on his face made it plain to all he wished he was not a boy of seven, but a main grown who could swing steel in the yard. To his left sat Robb the heir to Winterfell, and the closet thing Theon had to family in the grim wasteland of the north, the fourteen year old was well built and strong for his age, as their time in the yard and taught Theon. Robb met his eyes, as the both stared at Bran who was oblivious to all the glint of mail and pommels, Theon gave Robb that wry smile he always did before Robb would challenge him to spar, though it would have to wait for nightfall.

Lord Stark sat upon the high seat of the Dias as icy as ever, surveying all the castle staff who had come to break their fast in the great hall, those grey eyes of his nestled under dark brown brows never seemed to miss much, much to Theon's chagrin. To his left came the women starting with Lady Stark with her auburn hair and blue eyes, she gave both of these to all but one of her pups, however none of the pups seemed to inherit the disapproving look Lady Stark could summon that could cow even the most boisterous of Iron Islands reavers. It appeared Lady Stark was using that look this very moment on her daughters, two girls nine and eleven, who were promptly ended their squall over some dull subject.

The oldest, Sansa, was a younger perhaps comelier version of her mother. The other had a long face with features she had yet grown into, the stewards whelp called her horseface, she had her father's coloring, as did her bastard sister, who sat to her left.

Joanna Snow sat on the left most side of the main table, a maid of four-and- ten two years flowered. Her flowering had transformed her from an ugly child much like her youngest trueborn sister, into the most beautiful maiden in the north. She was lean and still growing, yet Theon found himself lost in her breasts more often than not, and her arse stiffened Theon's member whenever he had the good fortune to look on her back. Her grey eyes, so dark they were almost black, always seemed to hold a shy melancholy that could entrance a man, when they weren’t hidden by some book in the library tower. Her lips where made for kissing, her nose to be kissed, she wore her long and strait dark brown hair simple and lose about her waist.

Once Theon had almost asked for her hand, but he knew better. The heir to the Iron Islands could never marry a bastard, especially a Stark bastard.

Younger brothers, uncles, and even a few petty lords, all jostled for the maid’s favor, willing to overlook the taint of bastardy after one look at her, the fact she could give them children of Ned Stark’s blood, and some of his coin, seemed to prove as an attractive prospect as the maid herself.

Just a fortnight past the bastard of Bolton arrived and presented her with a fine red filly palfrey, no doubt hoping to strengthen whatever claim he had on the Dreadfort, perhaps hoping for Ned Stark to write to the king asking for his legitimization. The horse was a fine thing with kind eyes. Joanna never did much riding, until she received her new horse, now what time she did not spend in the library was spent on calm rides in the yard, or out to Wintertown and back with an armed escort.

The bastard of Bolton himself was far less impressive. A fleshy man with fat worm lips. Lord Stark sent him away like he sent the others.

While the plates were being cleared away Theon went back to trying to steal a glance at the girl, he had not much other entertainment in this dreary hall, suddenly he saw Ned Stark rise and call out.

"We leave in one hour to dispense King Robert’s justice, those of you who are coming you know who you are, make ready." All the while Stark spoke his eyes were on Theon. Did he see me lingering again? At that everyone below the dias either began to exit the hall to begin work, or moved to stand underneath it. Jory the Captain of the guards would stay with lord Stark till It was time to ride off and dispense justice, and Septa Mordane was preparing to take the girls to their lessons.

As lord Stark left his seat and started walking down the table, Joanna rose and took him aside. Joanna's back was to Theon and he could see lord Stark's eyes gazing down at his daughter.

Stark's icy face seemed to melt for a moment and turned tender in a way one would only see when intruding upon Stark when he was sharing a private moment with his children. Then his face froze again as Joanna whispered to him. Stark's face turned from ice to more yielding snow as he considered his daughter. Stark seemed to yield as Joanna embraced him strongly, all the while Theon sat looking at her body, manhood stiffening in his breeches.

The hall was almost empty by the time Lord Stark tuned away, he looked over to his captain of the guards who took up a place beneath the dias after finishing his meal, and said

"Jory."

"Yes, my lord?" the comely master of the guards responded.  " Joanna will be riding out with us I want four of your most trustworthy swords to be her personal escort, You as well Septa."

"Does this mean no needle work!" Arya said excitedly. The old women’s thin lips cracked sharp as a whip, "No My lady, I expect you to continue your work, your maids will supervise you till I return." The girl slunk back in her chair with a sullen gaze, Theon never liked the wench, girls should act like girls, not like dirty little boys.

"Ned, you mean to take her to the Execution?" Lady Stark said in a voice as shocked as her expression, all the while Sansa mirrored her expressions as she made them. "No, my lady she will come along and ride with us but no more. With that Lord Stark, his baseborn daughter and their retinue left the hall to prepare for the journey. When Joanna was out of earshot Theon smiled and said "I am glad that she's coming, the heir to Winterfell needs to be able to overtake someone in a race, otherwise people may talk." Robb came over and hit him on the arm, "No one can handle a horse like you Theon, I thank the gods you only ride stallions or we would have centaurs roaming the yard" Theon gave a guffaw that dried up as soon as Lady Catelyn looked at the two of them.

"The girl will be involved no races” she said firmly, “the last thing this family needs is its bastard daughter to give her maidenhead to a horse"

"Come girls" lady stark said as she gathered up the youngest pup, the one that was more fish then wolf carried the same dignified walk and look of displeasure as her mother. Theon had to smirk, sometimes he wished he could slap both of them just to see mirrored look of shock on their faces. The wild wolf pup sullenly followed.

"Come Theon" Rob said "We had best get ready.”

"Aye" Theon responded, hoping the swelling in his breeches was no longer noticeable..

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Ned

Ned never liked killing. Be it on the battlefield, in Winterfell, or the holdfast he and his retinue had just left, Eddard Stark never savored his duty. He prayed to the gods before he bloodied his blade, he prayed to them after, but taking a life never came any easier. He was half lost in his thoughts as their procession traveled along the road, Ned had been explaining justice to Bran when the Septa road up from the opposite direction.

"My lord,” the thin-lipped women greeted him.

"Septa what is it, is Joanna hurt?" Lord Eddard commanded her to stay close to the holdfast and only go down the stretch of road the main party would take after he finished his bloody business, yet fear crept in to his heart.

"Joanna is well my lord, only... well you had best see for yourself. She’s Just past the bridge."

When Ned approached the bridge, he spotted Joanna's four guards and her red filly, but not Joanna herself, as he made his way across the bridge he saw her. Nestled into a snowbank was the corpse of the largest wolf Ned had ever seen, A Direwolf. Kneeling next to it was his Joanna in her white woolen riding dress and cloak, clutching a ball of snowy fur to her face.

"Father" she said in the tone of excitement and wonder the shy girl only used when she regaled him with some piece of obscure history, "Look at her" Ned dismounted as she thrust the ball of fur into his face. White fur and red eyes Just like the Weirwoods.

"Joanna" he said softly as the main bulk of the party was dismounting around them for a closer look. "This is no mere pup, it is a Direwolf, full grown they will rip a man’s arm from the shoulder as easily as a cur kills a chicken."

"Direwolves haven’t been seen past the wall in hundreds of years" Jory said in awe.

By then Robb and Bran had made their way next to their sister picking up pups of their own.

Joanna looked at him mustering her thoughts. "Father the Direwolf is the symbol of your house," a pang of sadness struck him in the heart "Our ancestors rest in the crypts with stone Direwolves at their feet, the one you hold is colored like the old gods, your children are meant to have them." He couldn’t deny the truth of her words, but still he was uneasy. "This is a Direwolf," he said as the creature was squirming in his hands. "not some dog that can be broken." His eyes turned to his sons, already enamored by their own balls of fur. "If we take them you must bond with them, train them and feed them. This is not he work for cooks and kennel masters, do you understand?" All three children gave a unanimous "we do father."

"Very well, Jory, Theon, gather up the others."

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Joanna

Word of the king’s impending visit to make father Hand had thrown the castle into a tumult, even though word reached Winterfell ages ago., the castle still wasn’t ready for the King’s arrival. At least judging by the woeful din. They had better hurry he should be arriving today.

Joanna Snow loved reading, and nothing spoiled a good book like the thunder of stonemasons at work or of a hunting party full of baying hounds and whinnying horses.

As she looked up from a particularly interesting passage of The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling she realized the hour, dawn was beginning to creep through the windows of the library tower driving away the darkness of the night and throwing shadows all around her. Joanna quickly snuffed out her taper and roused her Direwolf Ghost who was sleeping at her feet, or rather on her feet.

The Direwolf rose silently her snow-white coat clean and soft. “Come girl, we best be in bed before the septa catches us.”

Joanna quickly placed her tome on its shelf and headed for the door. Some nights she wished she could sneak away a book and read it from the comfort of her own room, however, little Arya would often enter her chamber dirty from what ever adventure she was on, either hiding from the septa or simply to wait for her favorite sister. The last thing Joanna wanted was to find a priceless book soiled by her sister’s muddy fingers, or to fall asleep while reading in bed.

As Joanna and Ghost crossed the yard bathed in light as grey as the stones of Winterfell, Joanna was hailed by one of the guardsmen Fat Tom.

“Good morrow Milady, you’re awake early.”

“I had a fretful sleep last night Tom,” she lied, she did not sleep at all “I was hoping a good book would calm me.”

“Nervous over the king’s arrival I bet. They say hundreds of knights are in his party, perhaps one will whisk you away to be lady of his castle.”

Joanna blushed, many men had come to Winterfell since her flowering two years ago. Some had made her blush, some had made her heart beat faster, a few made her feel as if a grumpkin was tumbling in her stomach. Most were younger brothers, uncles, and cousins, sworn swords without land of their own, or petty lords with small holdfasts. One had been a bastard from house Bolton, father refused them all. A true knight with a real castle would never marry a bastard girl like me.

Not that she wanted to get married now, but marrying even the pettiest of lords would mean she would no longer be a Snow

Once she made it to her chamber she slipped out of her skirts and into bed, Ghost joining her under the bedclothes, hoping for at least a few hours rest.

She dreamt of the crypts under Winterfell again, of the old kings in the north staring at her with cold eyes. The eyes said, “you do not belong here,” they were the same eyes she saw on Lady Catelyn’ face any time she tried to sit at the dais when Winterfell was feasting fathers bannermen. She ran from those eyes down endless rows of tombs and statues. Until she reached the stairs, she wanted to climb up out of the earth, but something below was pulling her down, and down and down.

Joanna awoke with a thump at the foot of the bed dressed only in her smallclothes, Arya standing over her. Arya looked as uncomfortable in her finest dress as Joanna was, almost naked on the floor. Nymeria was standing over Joanna along with Ghost, both set to licking the sand from her eyes.

“The Septa is coming, hurry!” Arya said urgently. Septa Mordane supervised the wardrobe of all of Lord Eddard’s daughters on important days, she usually saw to Arya first, she took the longest, always squirming out of dresses and fighting the comb. Then came Sansa whom did not need much supervision she always dressed herself properly, with her maids help. Joanna’s maid was well aware of her night time visits to the library tower, but she was a kind old woman who never told on her. However, she had just as much trouble being roused from sleep as Joanna did. She was most likely still in her sleeping cell in the room adjoining Joanna’s own.

“Wake Beala and go stand guard.” Joanna told to Arya in a playful voice as she slipped on a linen shift.

“As you say my lady” Arya gave her best bow and ran off.

Joanna just finished selecting her dress, a simple high-necked gown of grey wool with two white Direwolf heads embroidered on the bodice when Arya opened her chamber door peaked her head in and said “she’s coming!”

“Delay her Arya!”

“With what”

“Tell her….”

Moonblood, no it mot my time yet, the septa would know that as well. A chill? No that would bring the Maester. “Nerves”

She gave her old maid Beala a wry look as they began to pull out all of her gowns laying them on the bed, as Arya closed the door.

Moments later Septa Mordane entered Joanna’s chamber. “What’s this,” she said displeased.

“Oh, I can’t decide what to wear Septa,” Joanna said as sheepishly as she could.

After a what seemed like a fortnight Joanna exited the great keep in her grey dress and a moonstone necklace that had been a gift from one of her suitors. Her hair was combed but rested simply, loose around the shoulders, they had no time for anything else, Joanna realized, as she saw the First of the King’s van come into view.

She stood in her accustomed place behind the minor trueborn noble girls of the castle. a Poole and a Cassel. It was only then that she realized how hungry she was, when was the last time I ate? When I broke my fast last mourn? She wished Ghost was with her, but the Septa had a guard take her to the kennels with the rest of her siblings. Horses unaccustomed to the scent of a Direwolf tended shy or rear, even if the Direwolf was still a pup.

A great wash of knights’ squires and freeriders road by, some on sots some on destriers. Some had elaborate plate with helms in the visage of beasts, others wore boiled leather or quilted shirts. She thought she even spotted Ser Jaime Lannister, Maester Luwin had taught her the common traits of all the great houses. Some may find history lessons boring, but Joanna loved them, she loved spending time with the old man, learning of houses and history, so much so the Maester had told her it was a shame woman weren’t admitted into the citadel. The knight Joanna was looking at had had long hair of beaten gold, excellent armor, a white cloak, he the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Then came the king, he wore no armor, but rode an impressive horse. He was a portly man with a massive gut, though he was very tall. Joanna had a hard time believing this man could have killed one of those freeriders in a quilted shirt, let alone the crown prince Rhaegar in his ruby covered plate.

She also spotted a great wheelhouse, stopping near the king, though she paid it and the rest of the procession little mind as the king had begun talking with father.

She was unable to hear most of the conversation as far away as she was, on top of the cacophony of all the horses. After she made out made out a laugh or two she let her eyes wander, her uncle Benjen was supposed to be coming down from the wall, she surveyed the press of men, cloaks of red and white and yellow, none of black. I hope he makes it to the feast, at the thought of the feast Joanna’s mind began to wander to lemoncakes and boar, trout and soup.

She was shaken from he dreams of meat but the sight of a large shape moving towards her, the girls in front of her quickly moved away and suddenly Joanna Snow had the King of the Seven Kingdoms staring directly at her.

“Lyanna?” he asked in a voice as if he had seen a ghost. Joanna froze, she never expected the king would approach her. Suddenly lady Stark was at his arm, “Your Grace, this is my husband’s natural daughter. Joanna Snow.

“Snow….” Said the king, turning to stare at Lady Catelyn. “She’s no bastard She is Lyanna Stark borne again.”

 Joanna felt faint, it was all she could do to fall forward onto the King’s massive gut and not on the hard ground underneath.

She was in the crypts again, this time she ran from the stairs all the way to the back of the crypt where open tombs awaited her family. She desperately searched for her own so that she could hide from the thing calling to her below, but she had no tomb, she did not belong here, the stone eyes of her ancestors told her that.

Joanna Snow woke to a weight on her chest, when she opened her eyes she saw it was her father’s head, he was resting soundly half covering her and facing towards the door as if he was trying to protect her even in the depths of sleep.

She looked around, her room was dark as pitch save for a single small wax candle on her desk that was close to guttering out. Painting dark shadows across the room.

Father must have felt her wake for he rose his head and turned to her, his face awash with love and sadness.

“You had us worried sweetling” father said as he caressed her cheek.

“How long had I been asleep?” Joanna asked groggily.

“This is the second night little one, you fainted in the king’s arms do you remember?”

“Yes” Joanna said faintly, the red flush of embarrassment moving up her neck.

“You have been missing meals lately sweetling, and your maid confessed you spend most nights in the library tower after most of the castle has gone to sleep.”

Joanna’s thoughts turned to her kindly old maid Beala. “Please don’t blame her father if I spend my nights in my chamber I sleep, if I sleep I dream.”

The candle was sending up its last flames as her father asked her, “What dreams”

Tears came unbidden to Joanna’s eyes as the flame went out and she put words to her haunting dreams for the first time. “Every time I close my eyes its always the same, I’m in the crypts, something is calling to me from the darkness down below. I try to run up the stairs but if I do the stairs either fall away leaving smooth stone and I slide into darkness, or the darkness pulls me down. If I try to hide the darkness finds me.  The worst part is the eyes, all of them say you don’t belong even grandfather’s.”

By now Joanna was sobbing uncontrollably, her father took her in his arms. Joanna sobbed and sobbed till she thought she was out of tears, then she sobbed some more, finally her father said. “Hush now sweetling you have may not been born a Stark but none of that matters today, the king saw of that.”

“What?” Joanna croaked her voice raw.

 Do “You remember what King Robert said before you fell into his arms.” It was starting to come back to her. “He said I was no bastard.”

 “Sweetling a king’s word is law, and our king proclaimed you were no bastard.”

Joanna Snow was beginning to understand. “He couldn’t have meant it. “

“He did, he signed a royal writ as soon as Maester Luwin assured us all you needed was food and rest.”

Joanna was stunned, she lay there in the dark unable to talk, unable to think. Finally, she uttered “Lady Catelyn.”

“I can deal with my lady wife, she knows the kings word is law.”

“...Sansa …Arya.”

“You have three bothers little one, Gods be good you and your sisters will never have to fight over claims.”

 Joanna Starks’s tongue turned to a slab of salt beef, her mind to porridge, as exhaustion pushed her in to the embrace of sleep once again.

She was standing by her family’s tombs once again, this time she found one of own, Joanna Stark carved proudly on its side.

She turned to the tombs of her ancestors stretching endlessly into the darkness and told them “I am a Stark!” With the sound of stone grinding against stone, every statue turned to look at her, from the kings of winter sitting in their shadows near the stairs to her uncle Brandon and aunt Lyanna.

Then came a great rumbling as scores of stone Starks opened their mouths in unison and boomed “YOU ARE NO STARK!” Each one pointing to the spiral stair at the other side of the crypt, shrouded in darkness.

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Jaime

Cersei had never look so beautiful. In the candle light her eyes became molten pools of emerald. Her face, a mixture of anger and fear made Jaime wont nothing more than to take her close and tell her that she would always be protected

It was past dawn and outside the sun light shone brightly over the icy seat of house Stark, but Cersei had insisted the windows be shuttered, the curtains drawn, and the door bared before she would let him near.

As Jaime moved to embrace her she pushed his hands away.

“You have to stop her Jaime.”

“Who.”

Cersei’s face flashed to anger again, “That bastard whore trying to seduce Robert, the whore with our mother’s name”

Jaime had to laugh, “Let her, she will be one among many”

“Jaime don’t be a fool, the slut seduced herself to a legitimization, a few more days and Robert will beg her to be his queen.”

“Let her, you will still be the mother of the crowned price, with luck Robert will send us both back to the Rock and we won’t have to hide like this” Jaimie moved in again till Cersei slapped him and turned away.

“And what will happen when the bitch whelps out a child who looks nothing like its half siblings and everything like Robert?”

“We have given the fool horns many times Cersei, even with his numerous darkhaired bastards, he never pieced it out, why would he now.

“Even if Robert doesn’t realize the truth, you know he will favor any child at the wolf’s dug, Robert hates Joff, but the precious child of His Lyanna come again. Imagine if Daemon Blackfyre had not only his father’s love but his name as well.” Jaime began to see tears welling in those pools of emerald.

“I’ll just kill Robert then”

“No, not until I handle his brothers, and even if you did the bitch would still live, she will take all I hold dear, you, the children, everything.” His sister began to sob.

“She won’t, I’ll see to it.” Jaime moved again, this time Cersei leapt at him wrapping her legs around his waist. “Oh, my sweet sweet knight” she cried as she struggled to pull down her hose and small clothes. By then Jaime had her back against the wall, one hand supporting them the other unlacing his breeches.

Any guilt Jaime might have had over killing the maiden was lost when he first entered his sister’s sweet warm folds. Robert, the girl, Joffrey, none of them matter, only Cersei, only Cersei. Jaime closed his eyes and lost himself in his thrusts and in his pleasure. Cersei pulled at his long mane of hair and locked her mouth on his to smother a scream as she found her pleasure.

And then, Cersei released her legs.

“Stop Jaime” she whispered in his ear, “you mustn’t, your seed cannot take root until the bitch is dead.” Reluctantly Jaime backed himself from the wall. As his cock slid from his sisters warm moist lips, her other lips found it. Her mouth and tongue worked his pillar, her hands his stones until Jaime felt sweet release, Cersei felt it too, sliding her mouth as far long his shaft as she could, drinking in his seed, cleaning the final morsels off with her tongue. When she was done she retreated to the beds bed and dug into her furs, producing a vile containing small grains.

As Jaime laced himself up his sister said “the Maester has been giving her dreamwine, go to pay your respects put three pinches of this into the flagon and she will never threaten us again.”

Jaime took the vile.

It was another hour before he reached the girls chambers, the two stark guardsmen outside the door challenged him as he approached, one was fat the other balding with a beak nose.

“Halt Kingslayer” said the fat man in an authoritative voice “Lady Stark is resting no one may enter.” So much for paying my respects

“I have come to ensure the maid has proper protection.”

The bald man loosened his hilt in his scabbard, “Have of fear of that Ser.”

“How many men do you have in the room with her?”

“None” said the fat man his voice suddenly unsure.

The balding man came to his aid. “No way in but the window Kingslayer, you would have to be a bird to get in.“

“Or a boy” Jaime mused, “I saw one of the Stark boys climbing through the window just yesterday.”

“Brandon would never hurt his sister” the fat man objected.

“No, but one of the many urchins the King’s procession brought to your castle would, I bet none of them have ever had the pleasure of fucking a sleeping noble maiden.” That was no lie, many boys melted out of the fields and woods on their way north, eager to become some knight’s squire, though the ones without squires already tended to be the ones who slept under hedges.

“We had a man inside and the wolf too until Maester Luwin said it would disturb her.” The balding one said with a flash of embarrassment.

“Would you rather have her disrupted or raped, I am a Kingsguard, I know how to stand silently. There needs to be a man inside, go ask Lord Stark when he comes back from that hunting trip the king dragged him to, I am sure he will agree” As long as I’m not the one doing the guarding.

When Jaime opened the door neither men moved to stop him.

The maester was not fretting for nothing, for the moment Jaime closed the door, the sleeping maid’s eyes opened wide and blinked.

Those eyes. Even in the dark chamber lit only by one long scented candle on the desk beside the maid’s bed, Jamie would know those eyes anywhere.

Dark brooding eyes, the same eyes Rhaegar had, in everything but color.

“Ser Jaime?” the maid said in a puzzled groggy expression.

Ser, not Kingslayer. Suddenly all thoughts of the vial in his coin purse had vanished.

“I’ve come to stand vigil” Jamie said trying to not sound as unsettled as he felt. Who is this girl? It was then Jaime widened his vision and realized he saw a girl at a tourney long ago who looked near exact to the one abed before him.

 “Oh” She said as she squirmed up the headboard, slipping out under her furs, her linen sleeping shift hung loosely above her small breasts, but Jaime hardly noticed, his gaze focused on her eyes.

“You left out my title,” he said with a smile that cut like a knife.

“I… I don’t like titles people don’t chose themselves” she said sheepishly. Like bastard.

“I chose it for myself, I killed the king.”

“Why?” Why… the question no one ever asked, and answer I never told. This one definitely isn’t Ned Stark’s seed.

When Jaime didn’t respond she said. “My father won’t allow any texts of the rebellion into the library, but I have some from another civil war, the Dance of Dragons, The Testimony of Mushroom and Archmaester Gyldayn's works are often at odds. Book have taught me to ask questions, especially about history.”

Seizing his chance to change the topic Jaimie said.  “Mushroom? my brother told me about him, they said he had a member the size of his head and he clamed a dragon laid eggs in Winterfell. Do you see any eggs girl?”

“In the crypts” she corrected, “but there is nothing in the crypts save darkness, still though Mushroom actually lived history, I would love to learn the history of the rebellion from your own eyes.”

“No, you wouldn’t girl”

“I’m not a girl” she said politely, “I am a maiden flowered.”

“It will give you nightmares and no more, my lady.”

“I already have them.” She gestured at the flagon of dreamwine, sitting next to her candle, that Jaime payed no attention to until now.”

“Do you know how your grandfather and uncle died?”

“The old king killed them”

“Yes, but how?”

“The axe, the noose?” Her dark sad eyes seemed even grow darker with sorrow

Jaime walk from his place at the door and took the chair at the desk, siting athwart it to face the girl in the eyes

“Your uncle died by the noose, strangling himself while watching your grandfather burn alive.”

The girl looked shocked.

“Oh… but I didn’t kill Aerys then, no I stood there and did my duty. When the king decided the smell of burning human flesh had got him hot and bothered and started to rape the queen, I did my duty.”

Her shock turned to horror

“When the king ordered his pyromancers to ignite the wildfire under the city to kill us all I could no longer do my duty. I killed his chief pyromancer before slitting the King’s throat. After that I was in a daze, I sat on the throne encased in armor, while the crown prince’s family was being raped and murdered.”

It was only then Jaime realized he had tears in his eyes. Suddenly he felt a dainty hand wrap around his own. “Ser Jaime I have read of this, sometimes when a man takes a life he becomes lost inside himself for hours even days.”

“I am not just some man, I am a knight of the Kingsguard,”

“You are still a man she said, squeezing his hand.”

“And you are your father’s daughter” With that Jaime rose from the chair and exited the girl’s chambers, ignoring the protests of the two guardsmen. He found the first brazier her could and pushed Cersei’s vail beneath the embers

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Joanna

Maester Luwin had lessened her nightmares, but Joanna Stark’s days felt like dreams. Even as Bran Arya and Robb were hugging her and congratulating her she had trouble believing it. Joanna Stark.

After her siblings came uncle Benjen. He brought her a blue rose and said. “You look so much like your mother.” When Joanna tried to question him further he hurried out the door, and spent his days ignoring her summons and avoiding her.

But her queerest visitor had been Ser Jamie Lannister he had looked like he had stepped out of a maiden’s fantasy, tall and muscular yet lean and quick with long curls of gold and emerald eyes, just looking at him made her flush, she was glad that the room was lit only by a single candle and that Ser Jamie seemed too focused on his past to notice. What a past it was, Kingslayer they called him, but if what he said was true that should have been an honor upon him, not a stain.

Finally came a page from the king, who told her his grace requested that she ride south to King’s Landing with him, Joanna had to pinch herself just then. The only time Joanna had seen the king was right before she fainted, he was a big man fat and sweaty, no it wasn’t his presence she was excited for, it was the red keep with all of its texts and history, and father. Father had accepted the title of hand, and so would go south. Joanna knew she could not stay in Winterfell without father, Lady Catelyn had been formal with Joanna her entire like, as if she was one of the servant’s daughters, she never showed hatred, never showed warmth, but Joanna feared the legitimization would send her over the edge.

It had been a fortnight since Joanna had fainted, just now she was preparing, loading all her things into trunks for the journey south. Joanna had hoped some of her siblings would be joining, even Sansa as formal as her mother, but each time she visited with Arya Robb and Bran they told her that they would be staying, and Arya… Arya was presently trying to convince her sister to try and smuggle her out of the castle in a trunk.

“I wouldn’t need to hide long, just a day or two, ill bar the door to my room and climb down the window, then hide in the trunk, by the time they break my door down we’ll probably be too far south to turn around.”

Joanna was tempted by her plan, she grabbed Arya by the wrist and pulled her close to her chest and told her. “Your lady mother would hunt me down and flay me if I stole you, you have to stay here and make sure Robb doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Alright…” her sister said with a sullen expression. “But if I stay who will protect you and wake you up when you go to sleep late.”

“I have Ghost.” The wolf raised her head from the large bone she was presently sharing with her sister.

“You should have this too” dug into her breeches and pulled own a small dagger and its sheath from where it was strapped to her leg.”

“Where did you steal this”

“From one of the whores the king brought in to the castle. Ghost is good but you need a claw of your own if you are going south, and father never even lets us near swords.”

She reached for the girl and hugged her even tighter.

“Can’t… breathe…”

“I’ll miss you Arya,” Joanna said as she loosened her grip.

“I’ll miss you more.”

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Ned

Cat still wasn't  speaking to him, even as the great caravan was preparing for the long journey south, Cat was nowhere to be found.

The legitimization came as a shock, to Ned most of all, Cat had scarcely uttered a word since the fight they had that night, after Maester Luwin had informed the castle Joanna would be fine with some food and sleep.

“You can’t let him do this Ned, he means to take her south, over your trueborn daughters.”

“Cat I am sure Arya and Sansa would be welcomed in the red keep, Bran as well with his dream of knighthood.”

“No” The word was filled with hatred and anger, tears glistened in his wife’s eyes. “That girl already stole our daughter’s futures, I will not have them sent south to be her handmaidens, I will not have Bran taken from me”

“Cat, the girls will be crushed, Sansa fills her days with tales of kings and knights, and Joanna is Arya’s favorite sibling.”

“Why couldn’t you have just sent her away while the king visited?”

“Robert expected to meet all of my children, including Joanna.”

“Is that why you haven’t married her off yet. Do you intend to give her to Robert?”

Ned had never struck his lady wife before but this was the closest he had ever come, instead he rushed out the door slamming it behind him. That felt like years ago, when it was closer to a fortnight

I would have married her off, far from Robert’s notice, but weddings require the names of the bride and groom spoken before a heart tree, I might have lied to Robert, even my wife, but no one can lie before the gods.

Ned surveyed the yard for what might be the last time in years. The guards and servants he would bring to Kingslanding were assembling, Bran and Arya were locking Joanna in a tearful embrace threatening to squeeze the life out of her, all the while all six of the Direwolves were enjoying a good scrap in the dirty snow.

Rickon, Sansa, and his lady wife were nowhere to be found. Sansa was likely locked in her chambers weeping. Catelyn was likely trying to find comfort in their youngest babe.

Ned had almost told Robert that Joanna would be staying in Winterfell. But the look Robert gave the protesting Queen Cersei when he announced the eldest Stark girl would be his honored guest at court chilled Ned to the bone

Still Ned would have refused to go south at all, if Catelyn had not received that damnable letter, the subject of the only conversation he had with his lady wife after their fight

Cat’s sister had claimed the Lannister’s had poisoned Jon Arryn. Ned still remembered Catelyn’s voice, cold as stone “if you still want to take that girl into the lion’s den be my guest.”

The knowledge hit Ned like a spear thrust, if they killed Jon, Robert may be next. If... I can’t take ravings of a grieving widow to Robert, I need proof.

What hit Ned even harder was the fact he doubted Joanna’s safety if she was left with Catelyn.

Ned feared for Joanna’s safety in Kingslanding as well, if the Lannister plots hanging over them weren’t enough, the looks Robert continuously gave his daughter sent a chill through his heart. Ned had confronted him on the looks during a hunt. and Robert had sworn he would not dishonor his little girl, still Ned made sure to have her under guard and spent his waking hours either with her or his king.

Robert was known for his appetites, he had even bedded his own good-sister’s cousin in his brothers wedding bed. Ned was a man of the north, but he decided once they arrived at the capitol he would find the most devout septa he could for Joanna. Many women, and men, would turn a blind eye for a king’s favor. He hoped to find one of the few that value a maiden’s honor over a king’s favor.

Robert was many things, but in the end, he was his brother, his king, he needed to stay close to protect him, protect the realm, from whatever the Lannister’s may be planning, Ned just hoped he could protect Joanna at the same time.

Ned was snapped back to reality as Robb helped Joanna mount her filly, the girl loved that horse, but she was not accustomed to spending her days in the saddle, so Ned brought a carriage along as well, it paled in size to the queen’s wheelhouse but it was large enough to sleep Joanna, her maid, and more importantly her wolf comfortably, and the doors could be barred from the inside.

The path of Benjen and the Lannister dwarf lead north, to the wall. Ned’s and Joanna’s south, away from home, away from safety, away from family, towards danger, and terrible memories.

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Joanna

The ride south had been a lonely affair, with father spending most of his time with the king, Ghost and her old maid were her only company other than her guards, them and Ser Jaime.

Most of the Lannister men including the queen and her children shunned her completely or threw her venomous looks, she was glad Ser Jaime spent most of his days riding with her up near the king, though he never said a word, Joanna felt safe by his mere presence, his long golden curls hanging off his white armor, his strong shoulders tense, his eyes on alert for danger.

Ser Jaime. She should have, would have, been more alarmed by a stranger knight in her chambers that day, even if he was a Kingsguard. But she was drawn to Ser Jamie in a way she couldn’t explain, and much to Joanna’s ire it was shown as a flush on her face and breasts whenever the knight looked at her.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

The trip south was slow and ponderous, the party seemed to stop at every inn, they feasted with multiple lords, and hunted at every opportunity.

The further from Winterfell she went the less her nightmares troubled her, soon she had stopped taking the dreamwine and herbs Maester Luwin had sent. The dreams of the crypts seemed to disappear altogether in the Riverlands, replaced with dreams of a tall strong knight with golden hair. During one particularly erotic dream she awoke, her entire body tingling with pleasure her face and breasts flush with a wetness between her legs. If she hadn’t blushed already in Ser Jaime’s presence she surely did from that day fourth.

She had her name day on the road, during which the King presented her with a gyrfalcon which must have been one of his own, some days the king took her hawking along with father and Ser Jaime, though she had no taste for it and while the King’s leers made her feel uncomfortable she tried to feign happiness wrapped in courtesy.

Today though promised to be more interesting, they arrived at the aptly named inn at the crossroads and met an honor guard sent from Kingslanding.

Among them was the kings youngest brother who was one of the few non-northerners to actually carry a conversation with her, and the Lord commander of the kingsguard, Barristan Selmy. 

Joanna was eating a greasy capon with Ghost chewing on a bone at her feet in the inn’s common room. Her eyes were peering across the way where Ser Jaime had just taken a seat at his own table, when the old knight the appeared quiet as a cat by her side asking if he might share her table. Barristan Selmy had lived more history then most Maesters had read so she bid him to sit in a voice too excited and girlish for her liking. However, she had no chance to question him, for the moment the old man sat he started talking.

“You have striking eyes my lady, I saw them from across the room.” The knight looked like he had saw a ghost.

“I... I thank you Ser”

The look the knight gave her was like the ones the king had, except there was no lust, only sorrow.

“Tell me my lady, if I may ask, what do you know of your mother.”

“Nothing Ser, only that I came back from the war with my father, and that my uncle knew who she was.” Joanna had often thought on her mother, especially after her uncle gave her that rose, if uncle Benjen knew her and she looked like me she must have been a serving girl from Winterfell that went south with father.

“What of your wet-nurse?’

“She was sent away once I was weaned.”

The old man looked as if he was about to say something, he opened his mouth, closed it, then begged her pardons and promptly excused himself.

After that day Ser Barristan took to riding near her as well, just as quiet Ser Jaime.

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 Tyrion

The ride down from the wall had been uneventful, boring if truth be told, though Tyrion was glad to leave Mormont and his preaching’s of doom behind, he couldn’t deny that he felt unsettled when gazing beyond the wall, Perhaps I will champion the cause of the Night Watch and convince father or Robert to aid them.

As they set out from castle black, the preaching’s of doom gave way to monotony. I have seen all this before, and I have a long ride to go. Tyrion’s party consisted of his two men, a recruiter of the Nights Watch, and himself. You can only hear the same personal stories and bloody jests so many times before you almost wish you were set upon by bandits. Tyrion had exhausted his reading material, and there was not a bandit to be found the whole trip.

When the party could they sheltered in castles and Holdfasts, however dining with the lords and knights was only a temporary distraction, soon enough they were off again, the same four men, the same songs the same stores. If Yoren sings about that bear one more bloody time ill tie a chunk of bloody rabbit to him during the night.

When Tyrion finally saw Kingslanding in the distance, thrusting up into the sky on its three hills, he felt like weeping. The first thing I am going to do is take a hot bath, have a good meal, and find myself a woman.

The sun was setting when they reached the bottom of Aegon’s hill, painting the Red Keep, an unsettling shade. They were just about to start their ascent when another party reined up to join them. Four guardsmen dressed in the colors of house Stark, the man Tyrion assumed was their captain was in full plate. A brutish looking Septa, an albino wolf that had caused Tyrion to momentarily doubt his sanity, and the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen.

She wore a white and red ridding dress with a simple grey ribbon tying back her long dark brown hair, she had sad haunting eyes, with a face that would give even the most devout Septon pause. Her body lean but shapely caused a stirring in Tyrion’s breeches

“My lady” Tyrion hailed her “you are Ned Stark’s oldest daughter, Joanna, are you not?

“I am My lord”, she said in a shy delicate voice with a hint of surprise.

“Would my lady allow me to escort her back to the keep?”

“If you wish”.

They rode a hundred yards side by side with a deafening silence between them, save for the clop of hooves. Tyrion broke it with a question.

“Just what is your four-legged companion there.”

“Her Name is Ghost’s she’s a Direwolf.”

“An especially well behaved Direwolf, she doesn’t make a sound.”

“She is mute my lord”, the girl corrected. “She has actually been very naughty since we came to the capital” She gave a rueful look to her wolf, “I have to spend my days in the kingwood running her ragged before she will calm down.”

“She is a magnificent beast none the less my lady, I am impressed you have any control over her at all.

She blushed, “thank you for the complement my lord, but I don’t control her, I think she is as smart as I am, she behaves, well after I have tired her out, because she loves me.”

“I see.”

“I was told you went north to see the wall my lord, what was it like?”

“Cold, and very, very big.”

The Girl had a pouty look on her face. “that’s no real answer.”

Tyrion sighed, “very well. The wall itself appears impregnable, but the castles that surround it are ruins, manned by murderers and rapers, and it it’s the coldest place I have ever been, little girls like you should stay far, far away from it.

The girl tried to puff herself up, “I am no little girl, I am a maiden flowered, almost a woman grown.”

“And I am no dwarf, but simply a very short man” japed Tyrion, smiling.

Suddenly the girl started laughing, it was infectious, and soon everyone, save for the Septa who looked like she crawled out of the crone’s dry womb, took it up.

She even laughs beautifully, I wonder what my mother’s laugh sounded like. As soon as they reached the portcullis of the red keep, a guard waved them through.

Their party dismounted as the stableboys scurried fourth to tend to he mounts. “My lady I fear this is where we must depart” said the dwarf. “I can hear a capon calling me from here.”

“Farwell Tyrion,” The girl told him in a warm voice as she began walking towards the tower of the hand with her escort.

As Tyrion pushed opened the door to the kitchens a hundred different aromas filled his mouth and nose. To Tyrion’s surprise his brother was leaning against one wall overseeing the preparation of food.

“Jamie?” Tyrion said queerly as his brother touched him on his shoulders, “why in the name of the seven are you in the kitchens?”

“It’s good to see you too Tyrion.” Jaime said as he pulled him back into a shady corner next to the entrance of the buttery. Jaime spoke softly then, “I’m trying to prevent a poisoning.”

“Why? Death by duck must be Robert’s preferred way to go.”

“Not Robert, the Stark girl, Cersei is afraid the king will make her his new wife.”

 Tyrion had to shudder at the thought of the little girl getting crushed under the weight of Robert’s belly. “Somehow I don’t think the maid has eyes for our king.”

“I told Cersei as much, she has become unhinged Tyrion.”

That chilled Tyrion to the core, for Jaime to finally see what Cersei was, she must have snapped.

“If she kills the girl it could be the ruin of all of us Jaime, let alone the fact the girl is innocent.”

“I know. Should we tell father?”

“Father may be the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms in truth, but Cersei is still the queen, I doubt she would listen to him, we can’t tell Stark and Robert or our heads will be mounted on spikes right next to Cersei’s, that or we get sent to the Wall, I am not sure what is worse.”

“Then all we can do, is protect the girl.”

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Ned

Ned had only been in the city for a short time but it felt like years, he hated the heat, he hated the smell, he hated the small council, he hated that he was making no progress in the investigation of Jon’s death, but most of all he had hated what Robert had become. Ned had quickly realized that Robert was bankrupting the crown, taking out loans with the Lannisters, the Iron Bank, and others. Even with the massive debt the king had insisted upon an equally massive tourney in the Hand’s honor, Ned protested but it did no good, however the debt paled in comparison to what Robert wanted today. He wanted to kill a child.

Ned had ordered the small council out while he tried one last gambit to spare the Targaryen girl.

“Robert, she is a child, younger then Joanna, she is no threat.”

“She is a dragonspawn, that is threat enough, on top of that she carries a half dothraki whelp inside her, if he lives he will burn his way through my seven kingdoms” Robert’s face was red with rage.

“They will have to cross the narrow sea first, the dothraki have no ships and think the sea is poison Robert. Even if they did try to cross we will throw them back.”

“Damn it Ned, she dies.”

“What would Joanna think if she saw you now…. What would Lyanna think?” At that the kings face softened and Ned pressed his advantage “The dothraki are chaotic by nature and fear the narrow sea, don’t provoke them needlessly. If you seek my daughter’s affections, prove to her you are a man worth loving.”

“Damn it Ned, fine, but if I have to fight another war when I am a graybeard, against the dothraki, I’m sending you to lead the van.”

Later that night Ned had retired to his solar to brood over his investigation into Jon’s death, all he had to show for it was a book on bloodlines that Jon had been reading when he died, and a few more of Robert’s bastards.

Ned heard shuffling behind him and turned to see Joanna standing there in her sleeping shift, he rose and turned to her.

“Having trouble sleeping sweetling? Is it the dreams again?”

“No not the dreams she said, it’s the king,” her voice had a tinge of concern to it.”What does he want with me father? Does he mean to bed me? Wed me?”

 Ned sighed “Robert is my brother sweetling, I won’t lie to you, I don’t like the man he as become, but he is still my brother, that said he will never have you unless you want him to, that goes for any man.” His daughter ran up and embraced him, as she did he rested he head on her dark brown hair, so like her mother’s, not a hint of silver blonde.

 That’s it! Robert fathered no fair-haired bastards yet has three fair haired trueborn children, the Lannister woman gave him horns. Ned felt like such an oaf as he stood there holding his daughter. She may have saved the kingdom and not even known it.

On the morrow Ned would need to confront the queen.

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Joanna

Joanna hated Kings Landing, she hated the smell she hated the people. She hated the city itself, all mud and chaos. Joanna had been in the capital for months, and the King still leered at her, publicly, half the court shunned her, the other half seemed to think she was the king’s mistress, they kept their sniggering to a whisper, but she heard it, though no one dared insult her with Ghost at her side.

 Her old silent companions of the Kingsguard had no time for her anymore, consumed with their duties. Even her friend Renly, the kings brother, had left the capital with his retainers, they had talked of clothing, of horses, of the North and the Stormlands, of Ghost, within a fortnight she considered him a friend, A friend who doesn’t stare at my breasts. But Renly was gone now, and with father running the kingdom, all she had was Ghost, the Septa father found for her as big as a draft horse, and Tyrion.

The dwarf had taken to riding with Joanna and her party from the moment he had returned from the wall. He was droll and witty, and she had finally found someone who shared her passion for history besides Maester Luwin. Joanna could tell he admired her body, but that wasn’t necessary a bad thing. At least he doesn’t look at me like I am a side of beef like the king does.

Though it wasn’t the king that unnerved her the most, it was the eunuch. He seemed to approach her every day, offering smiles and complements. ‘My lady you have the most beautiful eyes today,’ was his favorite. What does he want from me…? At least she didn’t have to ask that question about the king

Ghost was her constant companion. She seemed to hate the castle as much as Joanna did, always restless to leave, giving her silent snarl to just about anyone save Her father’s own men. Ghost slept with her ate with her, and followed her to the godswood when she would prey. Her septa seemed to be more of a bodyguard who would follow her into the privy then anything else, silent as stone with a face to match, the only time it changed was when she scowled disapprovingly at Joanna entering the Godswood.

 Joanna tried to calm Ghost by riding into the kingwood almost every day, except for when she was required to be at some event like the audacious tourney the king put on for her father. Leaving in the early morning and returning just before dusk had severely cut in to Joanna’s reading time, to her annoyance. Between riding, eating, and cleaning Ghost and herself she did not read much if at all anymore. Father had even asked her if he should send Ghost back home. Joanna had quickly refused,

 Ghost would hunt and run, Joanna would ride, all in the presence of at least four guardsmen and her septa, who Joanna was convinced was mute, almost as soon as they arrived in the city father commissioned dressmakers to weave lighter dresses for her to help mitigate the heat, Joanna didn’t mind warm weather as much as her father did, but a new wardrobe was a new wardrobe.

The dress she wore today was modest in cost compared to the extravagant gowns of the of the queen. It was white and red after the old gods, after Ghost her white Direwolf, and Heart her faithful red filly. It was silk and linen, and cut low over her chest, an excellent gown to help keep a noble Lady sweat free in the summer.

Tyrion, Jory, her father’s captain of the guard, three other guardsmen and her septa rode with her today, through the trees and meadows of the Kingswood. Jory wore his plate, rare in the north, but the Hand’s captain of the guard wore the best.

They had crossed the Blackwater just after breaking their fast so it was still early in the day, the sunlight slashed through a green canopy full of leaves instead of needles like back home. The forest felt young and unburdened like a maiden in the middle of a long summer. The Wolfswood of the North felt like an old man, like old Ser Rodrick, strong and wise, stern yet kind in its own way, if felt safe, Joanna couldn’t help but feel vulnerable in these woods however, the lumber grew thinner than in the ancient forest of the north, where one could disappear in a thicket of trunks and branches. There was also not a single weirwood in sight, something about that always made Joanna uneasy, not even the Red Keep’s Godswood contained one. If the gods have no eyes here, how can they protect me?

They had been riding close to the shore most of the day, the scent of the sea filling their nostrils, around mid-day they fed and watered the horses while feeding themselves on bread cheese and fired fish, though Joanna ate little, she was more focused on arguing about history with Tyrion.

“So, you don’t believe anything Mushroom claimed Tyrion?”

“My lady I can surely say any man who tells you his manhood his as large as his head is not someone to be trusted.”

 They were mounting up when Ghost, who and been her normal happy self the moment they entered the kingwood gave her silent snarl, shortly thereafter, they began to hear the sounds of baying hounds and many, many hoof beats in the distance, to the north.

“Hounds?” said Tom, one of her guards, in a puzzled voice, “Is the king hunting today?”

Jory loosened his sword in his scabbard, “I don’t think so.”

Unease crept into Joanna’s breast. “Ghost doesn’t normally get upset by the barking of hounds, something is wrong.”

“My Lady” broke in Tyrion, “I regret I must tell you my brother feared for your life, I do not know who those men out there are, but if they are my sister’s you had best run.”

“Tyrion what do you mean?”

“My lady” said Jory ‘Your father felt there might be trouble today, I was told to keep you out of the city till evenfall.”

“Why?”

“I cannot say, I was only told that if the was any trouble make sure you and this scroll reached Dragonstone”

Jory handed her the scroll, sealed with father’s wax.

“Tom, Hugh, Dick, those men have come for our lady, give her your coin purses and get your swords out.”

The men did as they were bid without question, all of them were old and trusted friends and loved Joanna like a daughter, that’s as why father made them her guard. As they handed her their coins her heart sank, but she put the coins and the scroll into her saddlebag all the same.

“Whoever they are they won’t harm a Lannister of Casterly Rock, I’ll try to distract them,” with that Tyrion put heel to horse and rode towards the barking.

“Septa. Take our lady to the coast, find the first fishing boat you can and pay for passage to Dragonstone.” The septa nodded at Jory.

“Jory no, whoever they are I’ll go with them, I won’t make you men die for me.”

Jory gave a sad smile “I watched to take your first steps my lady, attended each one of your name days, I saw you grow form a skinny girl to the jewel of the north. Dying for you is an honor”.

“Aye.” Tom and the rest of her guards echoed.

“Go now ride east by south east, hurry.”

Joanna put her heals to her horse with tears in her eyes and was off, Ghost at her side, her septa tailing behind.

They galloped on and on towards the coast, and soon the sounds of hounds were gone, replaced by the sound of rustling leaves as a strong sea breeze pushed at them, as they came over a rise the sea came into view a mile further out, down steep terrain. They had just begun descending the hill when two riders broke out of the tree line on their left, mounted on huge Coursers. Well never out ride them I’m on a Palfrey and the septa is on a Rounsey. The men were knights armored in mail with steel tipped lances in their hands and swords at their hips.

Ghost was fast and strong but steel would go through her as quick as any wolf. We can’t fight them.

Suddenly Joanna heard a slap on her horse’s flank and looked back as her mute Septa galloped toward the knights armored only in courage and faith. "NO!” Joanna cried as one of the knights ran her through. Her septa, the septa who Joanna had never even bothered to try and get a name out of, fell off of her horse taking the knights lance with her. The last thing Joanna saw before she entering a thicket was the two men turning their mounts towards her.

Heart was slathering at the mouth as they reached the oceans edge.

Joanna looked for a boat, any boat, there were none,

Then the knights were upon her, Joanna looked desperately for Ghost, but she was nowhere to be found, her only protection was the whore’s knife Arya had given her sheathed on her hip under her skirts.

“Dismount Whore!” the bigger knight shouted, he still had his lance, Joanna desperately tried to turn Heart down shore, but the lace took her horse in the side before she could make it twenty feet, she let lose a horrendous scream as she fell. Down Joanna and her steed went, into the sandy shore, water licking at their bodies, the sand helped to cushion the blow of the impact,

Joanna tried to wriggle out from under her horse, the surf and her Heart’s hot blood staining the white of her dress red

She had just managed to wriggle out when the big knight grasped her by the throat and throttled her in the air.

“Kingslaying whore!” he shouted. He wore a half helm and a gorget, his head had a huge nose with beady eyes, and his breath smelled like sour wine. Joanna struggled, desperately clawing for the dagger inside her skirts. As the air was choked out of her.

“Trying to save your self with your cunt whore? It won’t save you but it will give me some fun.”

He threw her down into the surf, hard. Joanna was struggling for breath when her hand found her dagger. Then the knight was straddling her, pushing her into the waves, while both his hands were ripping at her bodice, as the front of her gown ripped open she brought her knife up in to the man’s jaw, the blade wasn’t long enough to kill him though. The knight spilt his blood over Joanna’s exposed breasts and pulled the dagger out from behind his chin.\Then Ghost was on him. She hit the man on the side and before he could even raise the dagger ripped off most his face with her jaws. The knight howled in pain as Joanna grabbed a longer dagger off his belt and brought it down wildly at his face.

Joanna didn’t know how long she kneeled in the sand stabbing the man, when she stopped her arm felt numb, but the knight was still screaming, no not this knight, I killed him…I killed him. Joanna raised her head and looked around, finding the other knight, he was trapped beneath his fallen horse, the horse had its throat ripped out and the knight, who wore a half helm like his companion, had lost his face in the same manner.

Joanna staggered over to the man, she was covered in blood and salt water, the remnants of her dress fell down her shoulders but she paid no mind. The knight was writhing in pain, blood pouring down his surcoat, a field of white stars on smoke grey. The man was yelling for mercy

“Why” Joanna said in a cold dead voice

The man choked through blood, “You killed the king.”

“The king is dead?” Joanna said absently. She didn’t care about the king, all that mattered was the blood, the blood that soaked her, the blood the pored form the ruin of the writhing man’s face.

“Mercy” the knight pleaded. “Make the pain stop…”

Joanna ignored the man, instead ruffling through his saddle bags and his writhing body to find his coin purse and water skin. Then Joanna waked to her own mount, her Heart, lying dead in the sand, the scroll was ruined, but she still had the coins. Then she went back to the knight who had almost raped her and did the same. She looked around for the horse belonging to the big knight but could not find it. all the while the star and smoke knight howled in pain.

It was then Joanna notice a man standing to her left, he wasn’t a knight, he was clad as a simple peasant, a small fishing boat with a single sail was beached behind him, a little girl peaked her head over the side.

“I saw what they tried to ya as I came around the point,” he said softly. “let’s get you out of that bloody mess and on to my boat, I can get ye back to the city.”

“No, Dragonstone.” Joanna said as she held up a coin purse before collapsing into the sand.

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Davos

Davos Seaworth disliked sailing with the red woman, he disliked not knowing their destination even more.

Ravens had reached Dragonstone with word of king Robert’s death, poisoned by the hand of his Stark mistress it was said, perhaps that why the red woman had requested the war galleys captained by his sons as well. Three ships they were, sailing in the black night. Guided by the fires of the red women, the moment word arrived of Robert’s death, the red women told Lord, no King now, Stannis that a key to his victory was sailing on the blackwater.

Davos was at the gunwale along the forecastle when he spotted it, a small one mast fishing boat, making its way towards Dragonstone. His boys knew what to do without guidance, Davos was proud of that, they quickly positioned their galleys to pen in the boat while Davos shouted. “Pull up alongside and prepare to board!”

The red women stirred from the brazier mid ship, Davos hated that brazier, it had no place above deck, open flame on a ship was dangerous enough, let alone open flames exposed to the wind. It was only then that Davos noticed she had a Red robe folded under her arm. They both made their way starboard where they were hailed by to captain of a small fishing vessel.

“Good evenin milord milady” the man said as Davos survived his vessel. There were two girls with him, one in a rough spun dress, one sleeping curled up under a woolen blanket, and one albino wolf. What have sailed into? Davos grabbed his luck.

“What brings you to these waters captain?” asked Davos.

I…I thought ta bring my catch to Dragonstone to sell on the morrow.

It was then the red women spoke, her speech accented with tongues of the east. “You have no fish captain, but you do have a wolf,”

“Well to tell ya the truth my lady I had hoped to wed me eldest daughter here on the island, she’s a maiden, you understand my caution I hope.”

 “So much caution that she is naked under that blanket?” have no fear captain, we mean you nor the girl any harm.”

 “Beggin yer pardon but the last knights this girl was with tried to take her virtue.”

 “King Stannis gelds rapists” Davos broke in, “the maid will be safe with us.”

 “Be gentle with her, milord she’s not doin well.”

With that the red women Melisandre threw overboard a rope ladder, and descended.  “I will stay with her on the return voyage Ser Davos, send down a towing line and some mulled wine if you would please.”

As Melisandre tried to approach the girl the wolf rose up, but after giving her had a good sniff it let her past. She then went to the girl and helped her shrug into the robe, it was made from Lambsool dyed red. The girl wasn’t sleeping at all, she’s in shock, and the red women saw it in her fires. Davos ordered for the mulled wine as the red women put her arms around the girl and held her.

By the time they had reached Dragonstone the sun was out and the fisherfolk had their lines and nets in the Harbor, the furthest out they could fish, King Stannis had ordered that no ship be allowed to leave the island, the edict was enforced by war galleys patrolling up and down the bay.

Davos’s Black Betha moored to a massive stone quay while the small fishing boat they were towing had put in at the wooden docks used by the fisherfolk.

Davos took ten men down to the docks where he met the Lady Melisandre, the girl in her arms sleeping for the nonce. Seeing the poor girl made Davos’ blood boil, some had said the Stannis Baratheon’s justice was harsh, Davos had no daughters himself, but just now he thought gelding was a light punishment for rapers. Gelding them with rusty sheers and letting them bleed to death would be justice.

“Should I have a man carry her into the castle.”

“No, Ser Davos, she is a fragile child, especially now. No man should touch her, not even the maester. Have a litter and rooms prepared, I will wait here with her.”

Davos ordered his men to stay with the Ladies and then turned to the captain of the little ship at his place by the tiller, sitting with what must have been his daughter.

“Apologies friend but I’m afraid we can not allow you to depart just yet.”

“Milady paid us handsomely my lord, and it’s just the two of us, we can wait and fish around the harbor till we may leave again.”

Davos nodded at the man and began walking up to the castle.

It was nightfall when he received summons to the map room. He had reached the last hallway before the chamber, when the Red Women’s voice called out behind him.

“Good evening Ser Davos”

“You aren’t already with the king?” Since her arrival, the red woman had become one of the king’s closest advisors.

“The girl is fragile just now, and seems to be taken with me, she will allow no man to touch her, not even the maester, and is frightened by the maids.”

“Gods what did those whoresons do to her.”

“God Ser Davos. Her throat is bruised, badly. There are claw marks on her thigh though I believe those to be her own doing, however blessedly she remains a maiden, R'hllor has great plans for this girl, he has preserved her.”

“Him or that beast that follows the girl around.”

“R'hllor has shaped every life, from the lowliest rat to the greatest king.”

Davos had no stomach for religious debate for the nonce so instead he motioned to the guard at the doors to the map chamber to announce them, they were promptly sent in.

Inside three homely figures stood beside the chair at the end of the table that represented Dragonstone, all three brought their eyes up to stair at Davos and the red woman.

Axell Florent was a stout man, large in arms nose and ears, bandy in the legs, with the longest ear and nose hair Davos had ever seen.

The queen Selyse was nearly as hairy as her brother, and as tall as her husband.

King Stannis was a tall man, though shorter than his brothers, where as they were brawny his was sinewy, he had also lost most of his hair.

“Lady Melisandre”, the king said in his hard voice, “It appears you have delivered Ned Stark’s eldest daughter to us. Cersei claims she was my brother’s mistress and had poisoned him so she could be with the Imp.”

“Your good sister speaks falsehoods, the girl is a maiden, even after the Lannister women’s men tried to rape her, I have checked.”

Queen Selyse had a surprised look on her face, “She is intact? The lord of light himself must have delivered her from evil!”

“Quiet, woman,” Stannis barked. “You have done well lady Melisandre. I had suspected Cersei had been the one to kill Robert, now that we have proof that she speaks falsehoods her support will crumble.

“And she is also a valuable Stark hostage,” added Ser Axell.

At that Ser Davos bristled and turned to the king.

“Your grace might I speak freely.”

“That’s why you are here Ser Davos”

Ser Davos turned to Ser Axell, “My lord I may know little about lordly politics, but I know fatherhood, Stark would never let such accusations stand, he is likely in the black cells by now or dead.”

“I have sailed to the north enough times to know that the northmen are a vengeful people, they will come south in force for their liege lord, alive or dead, if we take his daughter hostage, we will earn their ire.”

Davos turned back to the king. “Your grace, you are the rightful lord of the seven kingdoms, taking this girl hostage will do you no good, send her back home and earn the love of the North, so they might join their swords to yours.”

The king stood silent for a long, until the red women spoke up. “I agree with Ser Davos,” that came as a shock to the knight. “I have seen this girl in the flames, she will be vital in the great war, but I do not see her on Dragonstone, I have seen her walking in the dark among stone kings.”

“Is the girl in state to travel,” asked the king.

“she is bruised, but the greatest damage was to her spirit, she has retreated inside herself, I have seen it before, she will let no man touch her, the only women she appears comfortable around is myself.”

The girl will go North “announced the king. “The lady Melisandre will go as my envoy, my lady you two will depart with Ser Davos the moment the girl is ready for travel.”

Queen Selyse had a mixture of fear and anger in her voice when she said, “we need you on Dragonstone my lady, you are the Lord’s conduit.”

Your Grace, I am simply a slave to god, as are we all, I have no doubt you will prove able to represent our lord on Dragonstone, I will leave my holy texts with you if you wish.

“Ser Davos find the Maester and see to it that multiple ravens fly for Winterfell and While Harbor tonight with word of your coming, as well as ravens to as many houses we can revealing the truth of Cersei’s lies”

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Tyrion

Tyrion had hoped Cersei wouldn’t be so foolish as to send men after the Stark girl in the Kingswood. He had hoped he could buy off Cersei’s men. He had hoped Cersei’s men wouldn’t seek to capture him as well as the stark girll. He had hoped he would be placed in a cell befitting a nobleman.

All of Tyrion’s hopes had been dashed when he was thrown head first into a black cell.

“She’s completely mad,” Tyrion said to the darkness around him.

Tyrion knew the black cells, he knew his sister, a day or two in the cell with no water and Cersei would expect him to break and be willing to confess. Confess to poisoning the king with the Stark girl…. She truly is mad.

And so, it was two days after he was thrown into the cells, when his gaoler once again asked him if he was ready to confess to murdering the king, that Tyrion said yes, some hours later, the dwarf was dragged in front of the Iron Throne. It was dark as pitch as they crossed the yard, save for a few torches here and there. Cersei was sitting in a chair placed beneath the monstrosity that was the Iron Throne, as befit the queen reagent, the throne was empty. The walls were lined with gold cloaks, Ser Barristan, Ser Meryn, and Jaime stood beside her, along with the frog faced commander of the city guard Janos Slynt

 “Where is our noble young king” Tyrion croaked his sister with a dry mouth

“He is sleeping. There is no need to pollute his grace with your filth.”

“You mean you waited until he was in his chambers to drag me out of my cell.”

“Silence, I warn you only need a hand or a tongue to confess, not both. Are you ready to confess your treasons with the Stark whore?”

Tyrion felt no need to drag this out,” I demand trial by combat with Jaime as my champion.”

“Jaime is a Kingsguard sworn to defend the kings blood not stand against them.”

“It just so happens I am now the king’s uncle, it’s a shame our good king Robert died.”

Cersei was seething.

“Ser Jamie would you chose to defend the Imp from the Crown’s justice?”

Jaime walked over to his brother and turned to face his sister. “I would when the crown is not just.”

“The wolf whore has taken you from me…… So be it.” Cersei said with a mix of anger and pity” You may champion Tyrion, but not as a knight of the Kingsguard, I strip you of the honor.”

“Your grace this is…” Ser Barristan started.

“The Crown’s will.”

“I name Ser Barristan as my champion,” Cersei said with a smile. The two greatest living knights in the realm, either Jaime loses and we both die. Or Jamie wins kills Barristan the Bold and Cersei poisons me like she did Robert

Ser Barristan looked incredibly uncomfortable until he walked down to stand on the other side of Tyrion.

“I may be a Kingsguard your grace, but I am also a knight.” ‘In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women...’

“Out! Out you false knight, if you are ever spotted in the seven kingdoms after sunrise ill have your head. Your reputation only protects you so much.

The Gold Cloaks raised their spears as Ser Barristan the bold removed his white cloak and left the hall.

“You have taken Jamie and Ser Barristan from me, you vile creature, very well. I name the Mountain as my champion.”

“The Mountain is in the Westerlands, the moment you imprisoned Ned Stark the Riverlords would have begun to cut off all passage from Golden Tooth.

“The trial will be delayed until the Mountain arrives,” Cersei said with almost a giggle. 

“Try not to die of thirst in the black cells, little brother.” With That Tyrion was dragged off to the dungeons, Jamie unable to do anything but stare.

She means for me to die of thirst thought Tyrion a few hours after being thrown back into his cell, he had waited what he deemed an appropriately long time for Cersei to be convinced his confession was real, and thus was desperate for water even before being thrown back into his cell.

Tyrion was relieved when he heard his door unlocking, better a knife then thirst. It was not his executioner who opened the door torch in hand, it was his brother.

“Jamie? What?” he croaked as his bother gave him a skin of water.

“I put a dagger to the Spider’s throat to convince him to help us escape.”

“Us” Tyrion asked as Jamie unlocked his fetters and led him into the hallway.

Ser Barristan the Bold was exiting from another cell, with a haggard looking Ned Stark leaning on his shoulder.

“Getting Stark out of the city alive is the only chance we have of ending this peacefully, said Jaime”

“M.. my daughter,” croaked the Northman as Selmy gave him a water skin of his own.

 “The last I saw of her she was making for the coast, with any luck she has reached Dragonstone by now” said Tyrion.

“Come, down this hall we will meet the Spider,” Jamie waisperd.

They had gone a few dozen feet before Tyrion asked “why is Ser Barristan here?”

“For answers” the old knight said as he looked down at Stark.

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Joanna

She wasn’t a Stark, she was just some stupid bastard girl who didn’t belong in King’s Landing, who didn’t belong in Winterfell, and now she was a killer.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw the big knight, his face torn off, sobbing tears of blood. The blood… covered her from head to heal that day, she still remembered it, the stickiness, the smell, the horrifying scream her Heart gave, the knight on top of her.

She was in those memories more often then not. Ghost would try to comfort her, the red lady too, neither of them uttering a sound.

When Joanna first saw her, she thought the red lady was Lady Catelyn, but Melisandre, as the men called her, was more beautiful, and much warmer, in touch and action. When she was cold naked and scared beneath the fisherman’s blanket, Melisandre had held her, Jonna began to felt better just by her touch. After that she was scared to be away from the red lady, both in the castle and then later while on the ship.

Joanna had lost track of how long they had been sailing, they had told her she was going home, but she had no home.

She had spent her time in the captain’s chambers, curled up in his bunk, the red lady spent most of her time with her, holding her, bathing her, calming her nightmares, the lady never spoke, neither did Joanna, they laid in silence, the red lady holding her. That is until one day, as they were breaking their fast the red lady spoke.

“We will arrive at White Harbor soon,” she said in an accented melodious voice, soon you will be home, safe with your brother.”

“Brother?” Joanna asked as she began to think clearly for the first time in gods knew how long. “my father…”

“Held captive by queen Cersei last I heard my lady.”

“Take me back,” Joanna said abruptly, “trade me for him”

“My lady. we both know it if I did that the queen would have two captives instead of one.”

Joanna would have cried if she had any tears left. All this time I spent feeling sorry for myself while father was being held prisoner. I am a lady of house Stark now, it’s time to act like it.

It was then Joanna rose.

Dragonstone had lacked dresses in her size, so Melisandre had share her robes with Joanna. They were too large, especially in the chest, but they were soft, one was made from lamb’s wool to help guard against the cold though Melisandre never seemed to wear it.  Joanna put it on with Melisandre’s help. Wordlessly they left the cabin and made way for the deck.

White harbor was far more formidable then Kings Landing, with strong wall and towers. As their galley was pulling into the stone quay one of white harbor’s warships had directed them to, Joanna noticed a massive reception waiting for them, made up of dozens of knights and a few monstrously fat men. Waiting for me.

 Joanna descended on to the quay with Melisandre at her arm, and Ghost at her back. She was promptly greeted by Ser Wendell Manderly. I know Wendell he won’t hurt me.

 “My lady, you some how look even more beautiful then you did not a year ago, even in those robes,” Wendel said as he bowed deep. Wendell had once visited Winterfell seeking her hand, he had brought a glorious moonstone necklace set in silver, along with plenty of seafood for Winterfell to feast on.

“And you look as strong as ever Ser Wendell.” She said as she tried to curtsey in the robes, Ser Wendell was the fattest man she had ever seen, until she laid eyes on his father and brother, who were standing next to three women, one plump and whom Joanna assumed was Ser Wendell’s good sister, the other two close to Joanna’s own age.

Lord Manderly beamed “my lady you must be tired, come, come, let us escort you up to the castle where a good mean, a warm bath, and a feather bed await.”

 “Your offer is just what I need lord Manderly, thank you.”

 “Come I insist you ride with me and my granddaughters in my litter.” Joanna nodded her head, hoping the Lord would not ask her about King’s landing or wedding his son.

“Well need toy find you some proper clothes befitting a northern lady,” said Lord Manderly shortly after the litter had gone underway. I mean to take you home on the morrow though, so there is no time to have a wardrobe tailored.

“She can have some of my dresses grandfather” said the green haired girl.”

 “She’s older then you, Wylla,” said the older sister

“Yes, but she’s so lean, I’m sure something would fit”

“I know she would fit in to one of the gowns I have outgrown, Lady Joanna we must have a fitting tonight.”

“Ok” said Joanna with a shy smile, she almost felt like she was with Arya again, though Arya would never invite her to try on dresses.

“I’m coming too Wynafryd” said Wylla haughtily. The two sisters spent the rest of the trip arguing over whose dresses Joanna would fit into. Joanna did her best to pay attention but all she could think about was seeing her sister and brothers again, even Sansa.

The evening meal was as varied as it was plentiful, however thankfully it was not a true feast. Fish, clams lamb, and more, with fresh bread and crisp greens, washed down with Arbor gold. Joanna’s favorite was a thick white soup filled with potatoes clams and fish, she felt stronger with every spoonful, that and the lemoncakes.

The men of house Manderly ate at an alarming rate, Joanna and the ladies were daintier, though Joanna drank so much wine her head was starting to spin as the sweetmeats were being brought out.

She had been placed at the position of honor to lord Manderlys right, as the plates were being cleared away he turned to her and said, “on the morrow my sons and I along with the strength of white harbor will leave with you. Your bother is at Winterfell marshaling for war.

Robb is going to war, last time I saw him he was practicing with a wooden sword, all she could do was nod.

Joanna spent the rest of the night trying on dresses with the Manderly sisters in Wynafryd’s chambers reeling from the wine, it was the happiest she felt since leaving Winterfell.

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Joanna.

She was almost home. Her home wasn’t perfect, but it was home.

All Joanna could think about the final day of the ride was squeezing the life out of Arya, of mussing Bran’s hair, of teasing Robb about the beard he wanted to grow, unable to hold it in anymore Joanna began to tales of all of her siblings, even Sansa and the baby to Wylla who shared the litter with her. Gods I sound like a child.

Wylla did not seem to mind though, it only took one night of drunken, at least on Joanna’s part, dress up for the two to become fast friends, Joanna and the two Manderley girls even shared the same bed that night, it reminded her of when Arya would some times crawl into her bed and night and sleep with her.

After that Wylla had begged Jonna and Lord Manderly if she could come with them to Winterfell, Lord Manderly relented. The red lady rode beside them, on a horse Lord Manderly had loaned her, but never in the carriage. When Ghost wasn’t hunting she trotted along with them as well.

Joanna had few friends growing up, none of the servants wanted to earn Lady Catelyn’s wrath, so their children stayed far away from her, she had her siblings yes, and Maester Luwin, but no real friends her age.

There was something about discussing gowns and arguing about the comeliest knight in the retinue that helped Joanna forget Kings Landing for a time, and when the two girls would curl up under furs in the litter at night she could almost convince herself she was in Winterfell with Arya.

Joanna’s nights on the road were queer though, sleeping underneath a red star that looked like a bloody dagger, she dreamed she was running, on four legs white as snow, she would hunt rabbit and deer, once she even fought with a big brown wolf that tried to mount her, all the while the brown wolf would growl, until Joanna had her teeth around his throat, then he would whine, but no sound escaped Joanna’s mouth. Some times Joanna would awake with the taste of blood in her mouth. Ghost, I’m dreaming I am Ghost.

Wylla was presently trying to convince Joanna to die her hair, telling her it would go well with Wynafryd’s borrowed dress of blue and green lamb’s wool, when she heard one of the guards outside shout, “Riders approaching.”

Has Ser Rodrick come to escort me the rest of the way home?

As the carriage come to a stop Joanna opened the door and stepped out. It was then she saw him. Robb.

He was mounted and some distance away but the sight of him took her breath away. He wore plate and fur, mounted on a massive Destrier. He looks like a lord. Theon rode beside him in his gaudy black and gold, along with two smaller riders, and three wolves.

Bran is finally riding a real horse instead of a pony, and I missed it. Suddenly Joanna had tears in her eyes.

Arya. Arya was presently spurring her mount, hard, strait for Joanna, The Manderly knights did not seem sure what to do as Arya road towards them, eventually they moved aside, quickly, it was either that or collide with her horse. The last to move was the red lady.

Arya vaulted off her horse and crashed into Joanna with a squeal, if Wylla wasn’t there hold them up Arya would have knocked both of them into the dirt, she was in her riding leathers dirty and dusty, but Joanna did not care, she squeezed her little sister with all her strength until Arya began to wheeze. Both girls where weeping. By the time Joanna cleared her I eyes Bran was there waiting for his own bone crushing hug, with four Direwolves rolling and playing in the dirt behind him.

“Gods Bran you’ve grow so much, you’ll be bigger than Robb soon,” Joanna said as she released him from a hug, cupped his cheeks in her hands kissed him of the forehead.

That elicited a laugh from the knights around them as Bran went red.

And finally came Robb. He almost looks like a man if not for his sorry excuse for a beard.

“Robb...” she started to say but the words caught in her throat.

Robb gave her a dignified smile, and an equally dignified hug, as he whispered into her ear. “I have to play the lord now.” Then in a calm lordly voice he said, “Sister… welcome home.”

Jonna understood what Robb meant, and in her best lady voice she said my “My dear brother, allow me to introduce the lady Melisandre and the Lady Wylla Manderly”. Robb kissed each of their hand in turn and exchanged courtesies with the women, Wylla even blushed.

By this time the immense lord Manderly had struggled out his own litter and made his way to Robb with his sons. As the men talked of war. The women and Bran marveled over the four Direwolves at play.

Grey Wind was the fastest and Summer the largest but Nymeria and Ghost had teamed up now to tackle each brother together.

Once it was time to mount up again Melisandre offered Joanna her horse so she could ride with her siblings and entered the litter, as the party crested the top of a large hill she saw it, Winterfell.

It was a massive castle, with two rings of high walls separated by a moat, containing an immense Godswood and a tangle of buildings. Home. It was then Joanna noticed the rows and row of tents around the castle. Robb is marshaling the bannermen for war.

Joanna was riding under the inner portcullis when Robb used the voice of the older brother she loved and said, “were having a feast at sundown in your honor Jo, you’ll sit to my right, your red lady is welcome to join us on the Dais with the Manderly’s.”

“Robb the seat of honor…. your mother….”

Robb’s lordly voice was back now. “Will respect my wishes, I am Lord not her, if she troubles you come to me,” Robb looked at her for a moment and said, “you’ve grown sister.”

“So, have you.”

“Yes, but I have fitting garb, all your old clothes will do no good, and there is no time to go to the tailor. Anything that might fit was lost in Kings Landing it seems, and that barrowed dress while lovely might give everyone the wrong impression that you are a Manderly now”

He’s thinks like a lord now

“Anything your mother wears would be too buxom, as if she would let me share a dress with her.”

Robb’s eyes flashed with realization. “That’s it,” our aunt Lyanna was taken at about your age, remember our visits to the crypt, her statue look as lean as you, perhaps there is a dress in her old chambers.”

“Robb, those chambers have been sealed since the rebellion.”

“Yes, but I have the key, Maester Luwin gave me copies of every key to the castle after father went south.” By now they had reached the stables and dismounted “here take the keyring, I have no idea what one it is,” Robb said as he handed off the keys. The rest of the party was dismounting behind them.

Joanna didn’t care about dresses or keys, she wanted Robb, her eldest brother, not the Lord of Winterfell, she wanted the brother who protected her from squirrels in the Godswood when they were children, she wanted the brother she had ran to for comfort during her first flowering, she wanted her protector, she wanted to drop the keys and throw herself at him sobbing into his chest.

Instead she acted the lady. “Arya,” she said sweetly, “would you please go find the septa and tell her I’ll need help dressing after I find a dress.” Arya gave her a sour look but trudged off all the same.”

“Bran can you see to it Ghost gets a good meal.

“Ok” he said cheerfully as he rubbed Ghost’s fur.

As Joanna set off for the Great Keep, the line of knights was still coming through, the Manderly’s themselves had not arrived, but Joanna had no time to wait. As she crossed the threshold into the keep’s walls Joanna was hit with a wave of warmth that took the chill off her face.

She walked up to the door of her aunt’s chamber, a door that she had passed thousands of times without ever really noticing it. Joanna was trying keys for what felt ages before one turned and she pressed a shoulder into the door, it opened with a reluctant groan.

The chambers were warm and musty, the drapes were drawn so it was very dark. Joanna stumbled though the shadows to what she hoped were drapes and pulled them back. The afternoon light filled the chamber as she did, giving it a cozy feeling.

Joanna looked around, everything was as you would expect from the chambers of a noble lady, though covered with dust and mothballs. Queerly there was a sealed letter resting on the desk, Joanna walked over and picked it up. The letter was sealed with the Stark seal on Stark wax, Joanna turned it over and inspected the name.

Joanna. Robb must be playing a welcome home jape on me…. No, the letter is too old. With a growing sense of dread Joanna broke the seal on the letter and began to read. The letter was in her father’s hand.

Joanna if you are reading this letter I have failed you, failed your mother, and am most likely dead, and you are in these chambers searching for answers about her, I write this now with you, a babe in my arms, hoping……

Joanna set down the letter, a note about my mother in my Aunt’s chambers…. No, it can’t be.

you will forgive me for my years of deception. You may not be my seed, but you are my blood, and I love you as I love Robb.

Joanna felt ill, she wanted nothing more then to burn this cursed letter and forget what she read, I just wanted a dress. Through teary eyes she continued.

You have never been a bastard. You were born Visenya Targaryen the daughter of Crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen and my sister Lyanna Stark. You have an aunt and uncle in Essos, but otherwise you are the last of your line. Your father died in the war, your mother shortly after birthing you. I promised her I would always protect you. It seems I have failed.

Whatever has happened know I will always be your father.

I love you.

Eddard Stark

Joanna didn’t know how she made it to the doors of the crypt, but she had. She opened them and stepped down, inside she found a sack of unlit torches on a step, with steel and stone to light them.

 She descended into the crypts with a torch in hand, the old darkness below calling to her, as a chill went through the stairwell. When she came to the set of crypts closest to the surface the darkness called her further down, but she was not yet ready. Instead she left the stairwell and walked out amongst rows and rows of tombs. The resting place of the most recent Stark dead. She walked on an on towards the back of the crypt, and found it, her mother’s tomb. She was a beautiful girl, her tomb covered in old blue roses left as offerings by her uncle Benjen, and father. No not father, uncle Eddard.

 Suddenly Joanna felt the rage that had been building in her heart since she read the letter.

“Why did you leave me,” she asked the stone visage of her mother. There was no answer.

“Why did you leave me!” She shouted this time. There was no answer

Joanna threw her torch down, it landed beside her uncle Brandon before gutting out, throwing the crypt into pure darkness. Joanna didn’t care, she smashed her hand on her mother’s likeness, once, then again and again and again, every time her fist thudded she shouted. “Why!”

This went on until her hands seared with pain, and she felt blood running down her fingers. Her mother would give her no answers. It was then Joanna lit another torch, and realized her mother was covered with blood, it was trickling down from her stomach, on to her legs. Joanna was covered with blood as well, down her elbows, down the front of her barrowed dress, it trickled down onto the floor of the crypt as she walked back to the stair, her throat was raw.

 Joanna did not turn towards the surface. Instead she went further down into the darkness, the darkness that called to her in he dreams. She walked down and down and down, for what seemed like hours, passing multiple other levels of the crypt where Stark kings beyond counting were resting, iron swords rusted away.

Eventually the chill gave way to the familiar heat of the hot springs that warmed the castle. Just as Joanna’s legs felt like they would give out the stairs ended abruptly, at the mouth of a huge cavern.

The cavern was hot very hot, soon she found her blood-soaked lamb’s wool dress unbearable, she tore the bloody mess off, reopening the cuts that covered her hands. Joanna soon realized she might have been able to find her way with not torch at all, for the walls of the cavern, and parts of the floor, were covered in a queer moss that seemed to give off light, still she kept a lit torch well in hand.

As she walked further into the cave, blood and sweat mixed with mist. Eventually she came upon a field of holes in the ground, every so often they would shoot up scalding water from deep within the earth.

As she made her way around she saw something queerer than glowing moss, it was a castle. An old ruin of a castle made with old moss covered stones, it was a shadow of the size of the Winterfell, and the cavern continued well beyond it, yet it was there Joanna knew she would find what had called to her.

She entered through a ruin of a wall, no buildings remained, but is spots she could see foundations, some covered in moss. In the center of the ruin she could a large pit, it looked to be ten yards around, and appeared to have been melted into the stone. It was from there it she heard the call. The pit was covered in moss, old dead moss, a nest, she could see vermin squirming amongst the tangles.

She followed the call, torch in hand. Down into the pit she went, dozens of vermin squirming at her feet. The moss came up the black hairs the grew around her sex, then up to here breasts, she heard a shout, and saw the red lady standing above her, she payed the lady no mind, and then continued to walk, the moss reaching up to the torch. It caught fire quickly and soon she heard screams, not her screams though.

She walked further and further on, surrounded by flames the licked her face as gently as Ghost, she felt the heat, but felt no pain, even in her hands. Then she came upon them.

Three eggs sat in the bottom of the pit, they were large things, the biggest eggs she had ever seen, even in the orange glow around her she could make out their colors.

One was White with red veins running through it. She sat down amongst the burning moss and held it to her breast, covering it with her blood, then she sat it down between her legs and saw she no longer had hair there, she pulled the next egg to her then, Grey with white swirls and then did the same. The final egg was red with black swirls, as she placed it with the others between her thighs she heard a crack, and then another, and then another.

Fire and blood.

Joanna Stark descend into the pit a quiet little girl. She rose Visenya Targaryen with three Dragons in her arms.