IX

Return

The only sound at the top of the Wall was the whisper of wind, the crackle of the fire, and the faint tinkling of piss as it hit the side of the ice wall below them. Joanna and Jon watched with bemusement as Tyrion fulfilled his promise - to come to the Wall and pee off the edge of the world. Bundled in her cloaks and leaning against the wall, Joanna kept a fair distance between herself and Jon, as she'd been told to do the day before. When the sun came up the next morning, she and Tyrion would set off towards King's Landing. Whether they would ever return to the Wall was a mystery, though Joanna couldn't imagine why they would.

Tyrion refastened his trousers and turned back to them. He walked down from the ledge slowly, satisfied.

"I'm sorry to see you leave, Lannister," said Jon.

"It's either me or this cold," Tyrion replied, "and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere."

"Will you stop at Winterfell on your way South?"

"I expect I will. Gods know there aren't many feather beds between here and King's Landing."

"If you see my brother Bran," Jon said, "tell him I miss him. Tell him I'd visit, if I could."

Tyrion nodded. "Of course."

"He'll never walk again," Jon lamented.

"If you're going to be a cripple, it's better to be a rich cripple," said Tyrion. He stepped forward and offered Jon his hand to shake. "Take care, Snow."

"Farewell, my lord."

Tyrion stepped between Jon and Joanna, passing them and heading back towards the elevator. Jon turned to watch him leave, and in doing so, turned to face her.

She looked down at her feet briefly, trying to sort out everything she wanted to say to him. She had never made or lost a friend so quickly before. But while she was still deciding what to say, Jon decided to speak.

"I hope I'll see you again someday," he said softly. She gave him a small smile.

"I hope so too," she responded. "Though I'm sorry to say, I don't think I'll be coming back to the Wall any time soon."

A brief silence, as Joanna shifted on her feet. She opened her mouth to speak.

"I suppose I ought -"

"You're a good friend, Joanna," Jon said. "I'll miss you."

She swallowed, chest feeling tight. She balled her hands into fists, realizing that there was something she'd wanted to do ever since that night a week before by the fire. Before she could think better of it, she leaned up on the tips of her toes and pressed a short kiss to Jon's mouth. When she pulled back, she felt like her cheeks her on fire. She took a moment to appreciate the look of stricken surprise on his face.

"Stay warm," she said quietly, blush hot in her cheeks and neck, then turned quickly on her heel and walked away from Jon Snow without looking back.

Joanna knew that she should feel ashamed, or guilty, but she didn't. Jon was about to take the Black, and she loved knowing that she would be his last kiss before becoming a celibate man. Perhaps it was a childish notion, but she felt satisfied knowing that even when they were a thousand leagues apart, a little bit of her would remain with him. It wasn't the first kiss that was written about in the flowery stories that Myrcella liked to read, but Joanna was pleased with it nonetheless.

The moment that the lift was ready to carry her and Tyrion down the side of the Wall, she hurried inside. She didn't think that Jon would come chasing after her, but she didn't want to be caught hanging around if he decided to go down with them. Luckily, it was only her and Tyrion who shared the ride down, and her Uncle didn't seem to be any the wiser about what had transpired moments before.

She knew she shouldn't, but she wondered what Jon was doing at that moment. Was he as exhilarated as she was, replaying the stolen kiss in his head? Could he, too, still feel the tingling and lingering warmth on his lips? She brought a hand up to touch her lips for a split second, before remembering herself and keeping both of her hands at her sides. Even though they were about to leave the Wall, she was sure that her uncle wouldn't have liked hearing that instead of keeping her distance from Jon Snow like he had told her to, she had kissed him just for the satisfaction of it. It would be hers and Jon's secret. And the memory of it, of warm lips and cold noses touching, and the startled look on his face when she'd pulled away - that was all Joanna's, hers to treasure.

The return trip to Winterfell was turning out to be a much quicker affair than the trip to Castle Black. With less people in their party, and no plans to meet with anyone along the way, they hoped to reach Winterfell in nearly half the time that it took them to get to the Wall. Yoren, the Night's Watch recruiter who was returning to King's Landing with them, was interesting company. Most of their days riding were filled with the sound of their banter. Joanna enjoyed listening to most of it, though every so often it wandered into territory that was even too vulgar for her tastes.

It was in the evenings, however, when the party was stopped to camp for the night, that Joanna truly felt how lonely this trip was. It took about a week for her to remember that she had no reason to wait up by the camp fire for everyone else to go to bed. After that, she tended to be the first person to be in bed each night, so overcome by boredom that she had very little else to do in the evenings but sleep.

Occasionally, however, she stayed at the camp fire after dinner, if there was conversation that she wanted to listen to. She noticed, one evening, her uncle using the light from the fire to sketch something on a long piece of parchment. She leaned over, trying to discern what it was that he was drawing.

"I never knew you were an artist, Uncle," she said. Tyrion chuckled.

"I'm not," he replied. "But I do my best."

"What is it that you're drawing?"

"It's a saddle design," he explained. "If Bran Stark truly no longer has use of his legs, then this shall allow him to ride."

"Did you invent that?" she asked, surprised.

"It's based on the design of my own saddle," he said. "Which, I'm afraid, I cannot take credit for."

Joanna was quiet for a moment, observing him sketch. She thought to herself that she could try drawing when she returned to King's Landing, and perhaps find a hobby that she actually enjoyed. It seemed odd to her that her uncle would be so thoughtful. He was not a heartless man by any means, but Joanna never saw him as the kind of man to go out of his way to be kind to someone. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"It's very sweet of you to do this," she said.

"Should I be offended by that tone of voice?" he asked. "Surely you don't think I'm as cold and unfeeling as your mother."

"I just didn't expect it of you, that's all."

Apparently finishing with the sketch, Tyrion rolled the parchment up.

"You should get some rest. We have another long day tomorrow."

His changing of the subject did little to quell her suspicions, but she knew better than to believe that she could worm the truth out of her uncle if he didn't want to tell her. Sighing in defeat, she stood.

"I suppose you're right," she said. "Goodnight, Uncle."

"Sleep well," he bade. Shortly before entering her tent, she looked over her shoulder to see him looking pensively at the roll of parchment. But the moment was brief, and had passed before she could think on it.

Their welcome in Winterfell was considerably less grand than it was before. Tyrion noted this as they stood before Robb Stark and Winterfell's resident Maester.

"I must say," he said, "We received a slightly warmer welcome on our last visit."

An iron sword was laid out on the table before Robb, and his growing dire wolf was resting at his foot. The signs were clear – they were not extending their hospitality this time around. Joanna wasn't sure what had changed between then and now, but she was beginning to wonder if her mother and uncle had been right about the Starks all along. She felt uncomfortable beneath Robb's cold, scrutinizing gaze.

"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome at Winterfell," he answered.

"Any man of the Night's Watch, but not us, eh boy?"

Robb resented that, but he was careful not to let it show on his face. He kept on a cool mask of impassiveness.

"I'm not your boy, Lannister," he said. "I'm Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

"And you might learn a Lord's courtesy," said Tyrion. "If not for me, then for your princess."

"Princess Joanna has our warmest welcome," Robb replied, though Joanna couldn't say she felt particularly welcomed.

"I see," Tyrion said. "So your quarrel is with me, then."

Before Robb could reply, and before the situation could get any tenser, the door opened. The occupants of the room turned their attention to those who entered: Bran Stark, carried by the half-giant halfwit that Joanna had occasionally seen roaming Winterfell during her last visit.

"So it's true," Tyrion remarked. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," the Master answered from up on the high table.

"Curious…"

"Why are you here?" asked Robb. He sounded annoyed, and Joanna couldn't help but feel somewhat offended at his tone.

"We had come seeking your hospitality," she snapped. "If there is none to be found here, then perhaps we should move on."

"Would your companion be so kind as to kneel?" Tyrion interrupted. "My neck is beginning to hurt."

Bran, face completely devoid of any emotion, said in an equally bland tone: "Kneel, Hodor."

The giant man kneeled, and brought Bran and Tyrion face-to-face.

"Do you like to ride, Bran?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes," said Bran. Then, with ice in his tone, he continued, "Well I mean, I did like to."

"The boy has lost the use of his legs," said the Maester. It was all too clear that they all believed that Tyrion was mocking him.

"What of it?" said Tyrion. "With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple!" Bran protested.

"Then I'm not a dwarf! My father will rejoice to hear it!" He pulled the roll of parchment from his belt and passed it to Bran. "I have a gift for you. Give that to your saddler, he'll provide the rest. You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling, and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice."

Bran examined the diagram closely. "Will I really be able to ride?"

"You will. On horseback, you'll be as tall as any of them."

"Is this some kind of trick?" Robb asked. "Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things," he answered. Bran rolled the parchment up, a wide smile breaking through the emotionless mask he had worn.

"You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed, and both of us shall sleep easier. A room for my niece is all I ask."

"Of course," said Robb with a nod. Tyrion turned and began to leave. Joanna looked between Tyrion and Robb, incredulous, before hurrying after her uncle. She caught up to him just outside the doors to the great hall.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "Go back in there and accept his offer!"

"Everyone will be much better off if I stay in the brothel – including me."

"It doesn't matter," she said, crossing her arms. "It's the principle of the thing."

He chuckled at her. "Northern Lords are hard-headed, and they hate Lannisters. I was never expecting to stay in the castle tonight."

She shifted on her feet, unhappy with the result, but she knew that her uncle was right. Her mother's family had made it clear that they held no love for the Starks, and she supposed that she should have expected that in return from the Starks.

"Fine," she said. "Then I shall see you again in the morning."

"We'll be leaving at dawn. Don't be late – your mother won't want to hear that I left you here."

That drew a smile from Joanna, imagining the look on her mother's face if she found out that she had decided to stay in Winterfell.

"Don't tempt me," she laughed. "Sleep well, uncle."

"With a night in the brothel, I'm sure I will."

A/N: Hello again, everyone! Sorry for the bit of a wait, though I'm glad I was able to get this chapter out to you before eight months had passed. I'm glad I could get this one out to you just in time for the Season 7 trailer! I'm sooo hyped - especially because I have this story planned up to the end of Season 6, and I'm excited to see how season 7 progresses so I can get working. First things first, though, I do need to write the entire story up to that point. As of right now, we're...what? Three episodes into season 1? Lots of work to be done! I'm super super excited!

Shoutout to RHatch89, Vulcran, Wombat8, Arianna Le Fay, HPuni101, amrawo, Lt-Spork89, Guest, Rudolphx, and KatarinaFoster for the reviews! I really appreciate seeing all of your feedback and interest. Reviews are the #1 thing that helps me stay motivated to write, so I really appreciate when you guys take the time to send me one :) Also, lots of love and appreciation to everyone who has added this story to their faves and follows. It means to much to me that all of you are enjoying my work.

We've got some fun stuff in this chapter! No more Jon :'( But Joanna's in Winterfell now, and that's sure to be interesting. Let me know what you guys think! Additionally, this chapter is, as always, written and sparsely edited by myself, so if you see any errors that stand out, please let me know!

Hopefully I'll have the next chapter out to you guys fairly soon. I don't want to be presumptuous, but I think you guys are gonna like it ;)

Until next time!

Rex