Joanna

Direwolves. That's what they were. She had read about them in Maester Luwin's books. They were large, almost monstrous beasts, and staring two of them in the eyes made Joanna's heart skip a beat. It was shocking to see how they behaved, that almost knowing way they bowed their heads and left, and stayed in Joanna's head as they quietly traveled down back towards Winterfell, only remembering she was still clutching Jon's hand.

She knew no one would believe them. They were not so small now so they believed they saw something, but doubted they were truly Direwolves. The only person that truly believed them, except for Jon's siblings, was Old Nan.

"Direwolves are like Winter" she told them. "They always return."

The woman and her great grandson were perplexed by her. The stories she heard Old Nan tell the children were unbelievable yet wonderful. Her grandson was a giant called Walder though everyone called him Hodor, as he strangely could only say that one word. Joanna liked them both for they were warm and friendly and she found Old Nan elevated a type of wisdom she felt bound to respect.

Greyjoy had the nerve to give Joanna glares after the incident at the Godswood, but she paid him little mind. She had frightened him enough with promises to write to her father about how the Ironborn hostage walked around like he was the Lord of Winterfell. But something else about the incident worried her.

What she was worried about was how she reacted. She was furious to see him disrespecting her friend, and it brought on an anger that nearly boiled in her veins and she unleashed it in such a predatory way she was almost scared of herself. Gods, she actually enjoyed the look on his face when she threatened him, and it made her afraid. Worse, she could see Jon was afraid.

But luckily Jon showed no fear nor discomfort around her. Walking together through the Godswood was fun and watching how he adhered to his gods was interesting. The Old Gods were different to the New, they required less worship, had no texts, and no lifelong followers. She never spent much time with Septas and Septons, they were not unpleasant, but she never felt the sort of comfort others got from them.

The North itself was interesting. Southern men had little care for the North, at least most she met, and she knew some called them savages and brutes. But while they were a bit grim and even somewhat cold, they were far from animals and treated her respectfully. She liked how it snowed often and the warm coats she got to wear and the culture. The North was just so wonderfully different from the South. She loved her family, but King's Landing always seemed to veca bit full, suffocating at times either. And Joffrey...

She shook her head and went back to her conversation with Sansa. The girl was somewhat obnoxious, and naive to an annoying extent, but was sweet and friendly and she and Arya, who was growing to be delightfully fierce and strong, were like little sisters to her.

It had been nearly three years since she had arrived in Winterfell and they were attending another feast. Lysa Arryn, Lady Catelyn's sister, had visited Winterfell for her sister's name day. To Joanna, she was a strange woman, she had an absent look in her eyes the entire time as if her mind was elsewhere. She was clutching Robert, her son, a sickly two name day boy, very hard as if expecting people to try and take him away from her. She could understand the worry, the boy was clearly unwell and she was surprised he'd been allowed to travel. The boy was whiny as well and a bit annoying. Unfortunately, she was seated right next to Lysa Arryn, but was happy for the information she gained. However, Lysa brought a most annoying guest with her.

Helga, her former maid, had been given over to the Hand's wife after returning to the South and now once again graced Winterfell with her ever charming presence. She was sitting at a table laughing while making clearly snide remarks, and Joanna dreaded the moment that girl came over and told all of them how they were the best of friends. Joanna looked away from her and instead asked Lysa Arryn about her family.

She had not seen or truly heard from her family for years. Her uncle Tyrion sent her letters regularly but he tried not to mention the others. Uncle Jaime and Great Aunt Genna sent letters usually for her name days. Her father wrote to her, but most of what he had to say he sent to Lord Stark. Her mother's and grandfather's letters were automatic and e quite mainly about her physical well being and conditions.

"You're father still enjoys tourneys, princess" said Lysa Arryn, a quick look of disgust passing her eyes. "And food too," she added quietly.

And women no doubt, Joanna thought. She felt an ounce of pity for her mother, but she was sure that she knew other pleasures from other men.

She knew her parents didn't love each other, but it hurt her to think that she was born of such mutual loathing between a man and a woman.

"How is my youngest brother?" she asked, wanting to change the subject. She had another brother now, Tommen. The letter she was sent said he was a small, sweet child and much calmer than Joffrey.

"He's fond of cats, your Grace, quite sweet and endearing" said Lysa sounding bored. "Mind you, he's not much like the king, green eyes and yellow hair like the rest of your siblings. You're the only one that looks like a Baratheon, your Grace" she added with a smile. Then she turned back to Robert, who was fussing again, not noticing the look in Joanna's eyes.

Green eyes, yellow hair. Lannister. All Lannister. One child was one thing. It could happen. Children weren't bound to look like their father's. All the Stark boys except Jon favored their mother's blood, yet you could see the Stark in them clearly. Joffrey had no Baratheon in him. Not an ounce. Myrcella too, she remembered clearly, was her mother come again, and if Tommen was like that too, what could that mean? She would have thought anything was wrong, would have taken it as a chance of blood, she was a Baratheon clearly after all, but she had seen her mother and her uncle. Green eyes, golden hair. Joff looked like Uncle Jaime, did he not?

She thought of her mother and uncle together. Their lips were met. Back then she knew it was wrong, but now that she understood the world a little better, it was more than wrong. Just the thought turned her insides out.

"Anna?" she could hear Sansa ask her. "Are you alright? Anna?"

"You're Grace?" asked Lady Arryn, not taking her eyes off her son.

"I need some air," she said, moving from the table. "My apologies".

She drifted away, leaving Sansa and Arya staring after her. She made her way quietly down the Great Hall and out of the doors. She went over the horse stables and found an empty stable. She knelt down, and vomited. She was as quiet as possible and managed not to mess up her dress. She coughed a few times then sat down in the next stable.

Small tears rolled down her eyes. Gods, it couldn't be. Was there a way to explain that kiss? Merely an innocent display of affection? Her mother was always close with her uncle, she had even been jealous of it at times, but was there something else between them. Something forbidden.

Her mind drifted to her history lessons of the Targaryens. How brothers married sisters, and their children had the silver hair and violet eyes of the Valyrians. It was unthinkable to think her siblings could be like that, and yet...

"Jo?" asked a quiet voice.

She lifted her head to see Jon coming into the stables. He eyed her curiously.

"Are you..."

"I'm fine" she burst out, wiping her tears ahd straightening up her hair.

"Are you sure? I saw you walking out, you looked ill".

"I'm fine!" she snapped, storming past him. She felt bad about shouting at him, but she wanted to get away from all this. All those thoughts and suspicions, and what it would mean for her family if it was true.

The rest of the feast was a blur to her. Sansa and Arya bickered as usual while Lysa Arryn was preoccupied with her son. She ate little and left as soon as she could. Lord Stark noticed something was wrong, but she lied when he confronted her about it in the hallway.

She went to her room but felt no urge to sleep. She tried to find solace in books and parchment, but her mind simply could absorb the words from the pages and she could think of nothing to draw. After an hour or so of staring out of the window, she had enough of her room and went outside in a black cloak her uncle had sent her, deciding a walk around the castle could let her get the trouble out of her head.

She slipped past the guards in the hallway, she knew how to avoid them, and quietly made her way across the courtyard when she saw Jon swinging his sword at a dummy. He caught her looking and put the sword down as she strolled over to him.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said silently.

"It's alright," he answered with a small smile. "What was it about?" he asked gently after a moment.

She looked at him quietly. Would Jon understand if she told him? Over the years she had been here, she found she felt some sense of kinship with Jon Snow. When they laughed, played, or simply spoke together she felt like he was truly her friend, the sort of best friend she could confide in, certain he wouldn't judge her or call her out. The others were like siblings to her, the brothers abd sisters she was denied, but Jon was something else.

His family loved him, that she knew for certain, but Lady Catelyn made sure he did not truly belong here. He was always an outcast, apart from the rest of the family. Like her. Joffrey was the crown prince, the queen's beloved, she grew up in her little brother's shadow as Jon had grown up in Robb's. And he, like his father, was already a man of honor. Surely if she could tell anyone, it was she told Lord Stark he would either call her a silly girl, which she hoped would be the correct response, or tell her father.

"If you want to know, come with me now".

He blinked and opened his mouth but she was already moving towards the Godswood. He followed as quietly as a shadow.

The woods were full of shadows and noises of nightly things and their every step seemed to echo all around like in a cave. Her heart was pounding at what she was about to do.

When they reached the Heart Tree, she turned to him fiercely.

"What I'm about to tell you needs to stay between us, Jon. If this gets out either ill be mad or my family will be in danger. Are you sure you want to know?"

His eyes grasp the severity of the situation, she could see him hesitate, but concern lifted in him and he nodded.

"Place your hand on the Heart Tree and swear secrecy then."

Slowly, Jon knelt down and held his hand beneath the tree's face tightly.

"I swear it".

Joanna signed and then began to speak heavily.

"Lysa Arryn spoke of my youngest brother Tommen. She described him to me. He has the Lannister hair and eyes, the spitting image of his mother just like my brother and sister. One may say it's a coincidence. Arya looks like a Stark while your other siblings look like their mother. But for generations of House Baratheon, black hair and blue eyes were the most significant marks of my father's house. How likely is it that none of my siblings look anything like my father?"

"It's possible," he said after a while. But then his eyes widened. "You said MY father, not OUR father. You don't think your mother..."

"She doesn't love my father, that I can tell. Worse, they loathe each other. My father knew and knows other women and I would not be surprised that my mother may know other men. But I never would have thought..."

She trailed off and he looked at her worriedly..

"Jo, you don't have to..."

She held up her hand to silence him.

"I started and now I need to finish. My brother was always cruel to me, Jon. He could throw himself at me since we were toddlers. He's ten moons younger, but he was always tall for his age and I was always short and so when people looked at us they thought I was the younger. He behaved as such, he felt it right to punish me whenever he decided I'd done something wrong. I tried to befriend him, I really did. But he pushed me away and I tried to stay out of his way. But he came out of boredom. My mother was always by his side, but whenever he did something she brushed it off as accidents. He hit me. I don't know whether he's different now, I hope he is, but I know what he was then. Did I ever tell you about my accident at Casterly Rock?"

"Yes. You fell off a cliff and your uncle had to jump in and save you".

"Joffrey was angry about how I embarrassed him in front of his friends the day before and he wanted to punish me. He made me apologize and then picked a rock from the ground and told me to hold my arm out. The King's Guards there didn't know what to do. I run. He chased after me until I nearly stumbled off the cliff. But then... I don't know whether he meant to or not, he ram into me and I fell."

She blinked back the tears in her eyes as Jon looked at her in horror.

"But that's not the worst part. When I awoke I was in my bed all safe. I opened my eyes and... I think my mother was kissing my uncle. But it wasn't like a brother and sister. It looked...to me at least, like they both wanted more."

Jon blinked twice then looked at the ground, trying to comprehend what she was saying. She could see him shake slightly

"You think your mother and he... that they..."

"I don't know Jon, truly."

She caught him by his shoulders.

"You need to forget what I just said, Jon".

His eyes burned all of a sudden and it frightened her.

"You've just told me that your own brother, our future king, hit and tormented you for years while your mother did nothing but let him get away with it. While no one stood up to protect you".

"My uncle Tyrion did," she said fondly. "He always had a way with Joffrey, and knew how to handle him. I felt safe with him around."

"But it doesn't matter, '' Jon snarled. "Joffrey tried to kill you fir all you know and your telling me that he may well be your uncle's incestuous son."

He put it together quicker than she thought. She was slightly impressed. But she shook her head.

"We don't know that Jon. Maybe there is something between my mother and her brother. Maybe they act on it or maybe that kiss was a moment of weakness and they are fighting whatever ties them. Maybe they aren't but my siblings simply don't take after the king. And while Joffrey was able to hurt me, I don't think he would really try to..."

"I need to tell Lord Stark" he said, raising his head.

"You will not," she said angrily. "You vowed".

"Jo..." he said. "We can't."

"No, Jon, I was dreaming for all I know. I always knew they were closer than any brother and sister I've ever seen and maybe I took that and made it into something bad. I did just survive a fall into the sea didn't I?"

Her green eyes met his grey.

"You are a dear friend to me. You abd your siblings and your father and his wife welcomed me into your family. Winterfell was more of my home than I ever could have had. I could be myself here, I could live and not think about what people I don't even know will think of me if I behave improperly. But I told you this in confidence to free myself from it and now I just want to be able to forget whatever happened that day. I need you to forget it with me. Swear it by the Old Gods and the New, or I may never find happiness here again. Please..."

They were both crying now as they shook against the cold wind together.

"I swear it" he said finally, with resignation in his voice.

She hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and they felt warm against each other for what answered like an eternity. Then they let go and nodded to each other, hands clasped.

Their secret.

Littlefinger

King's Landing had grown boring in the last few years. After returning from the Greyjoy Rebellion, the oaf Robert Baratheon drank and ate and whored even more than before. He had grown fat and red and was beginning to get too heavy for his chairs.

Anymore of this and even the Iron Throne won't hold him, thought Littlefinger as the king stumbled away from the council room, clearly drunk again. He was becoming quite an embarrassment, it was almost sad given how mighty he had once been. But sadly the man had no brain and was only ever good for war. When it came to ruling he had lost his purpose and instead buried himself in his spoils and hunts. The looks the lioness gave him where most amusing, she wasn't even trying to hide her distaste.

Jon Arryn became useful, he held the realm together when the king could not, but then again wasn't the position of Hand made so the king can enjoy his spoils and let a cleverer man deal with the rabble? His frustrations with Robert were slightly hidden yet visible and it was a wonder the old man could take it anymore.

He had enough on his mind as it is, with Lysa going stranger by the year with their sickly son. Lysa was sweet to him though, a sort of pleasure came from having her friendship but she was not Cat. Not his Cat.

The thought of her made him tremble with his desire as he headed for his chambers. Cat. With her auburn hair and blue eyes that were so much more beautiful than plain Lysa's. Gods, what he would give to have her again like that one, drunken night of forbidden love between them before that damn wolf took her away. That second born son who had to cheat his way through succession to get her only to dishonor her as soon as war came on the doorstep. Then to bring the bastard home and call his son. His Cat. His poor Cat shamed him. He felt red before his eyes at the thought of the man. Gods, if only he had something to use against him, something. He stirred away from his chambers and towards one of his brothels. He drank and enjoyed some women, but not too much, he needed to control himself. He didn't climb up so high to fall over a drink and a few whores.

The next day was a blur, not because he was drunk, but because he felt so damn bored. For all Cersei's glares and Robert's drinks, King's Landing was peaceful. Westeros was peaceful. Not perfect but peaceful. Chaos was Petyr's truest addiction. He needed chaos because chaos was when he was at his best. Chaos meant opportunity.

Then the raven from Winterfell came. He read each line thrice and then almost did a dance. This was it. His reason. His piece of chaos. His opportunity. Oh, how could he have missed it? It sat in him for two long months until Lysa was finally home. As he held her he actually felt he loved her for a moment, one meer, meaningless moment. Such was the grandness of the plan in his mind. His revenge.

Chaos, he thought with a smile as he told Lysa what to do.

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