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XVIII

Letter

Dearest Princess Joanna –

That was too familiar, wasn't it? Robb scribbled out the writing on the parchment, staring down at the long list of greetings that he'd started and then decided against. He had never before had such trouble starting a letter. He would have dictated it to his squire if he'd had any idea what he wanted to say. In truth, this whole idea was a last-ditch attempt, but Robb would do anything in the world if he thought it would keep his sisters safe from the same people who killed their father. As far as he could tell, there was only one person in King's Landing who was remotely sympathetic towards his cause.

He tried again.

Princess Joanna –

Was that too blunt? He decided to continue nonetheless, figuring that if too blunt of a letter greeting would offend her, then there was little he could do to help it.

I wish I could be writing under better circumstances, but I must request something of you.

His hand paused, hovering over the paper, as he considered whether or not he should have acknowledged his request so soon in the letter. Perhaps he should have included other pleasantries beforehand? If he were honest, he didn't care about anything other than her response to his appeal.

You are the only one in King's Landing who has been friendly and sympathetic towards my family. As such, I must ask for your help in the release and return of my sisters.

Was she truly friendly and sympathetic? His mother had insisted to him that she had vehemently protested her uncle's arrest at the Crossroads Inn. All he knew was that, the last time he had seen her, she had been kind and considerate to him and to Bran. He did not know if he was a fool for trusting her still, or a fool for writing to her. If she truly was untrustworthy, he couldn't see how his letter would put them in any worse position than they were in now.

If it is possible, I must request that you petition your brother for my sisters' safe return. In return, your uncle Jaime Lannister will be released and seen safely to King's Landing. Until such an exchange can be fulfilled, or in lieu of your brother's agreement to these terms, I also ask that you ensure the safety of my sisters.

House Stark is an honorable house, and has treated your uncle favorably during his imprisonment. I must request that my sisters are given the same treatment. Do not allow them to be punished on my behalf, just as your uncle has not been punished for King Joffrey's crimes against my family.

I know that these are requests which are not easy to fulfill. Nevertheless, I must ask one more of you: please return word of my sisters' well-being. I value your response to this request above all else.

Robb Stark

Deciding that this was sufficient, he folded the parchment and sealed it with his sigil. He hoped desperately that he was right in believing that Joanna would help him, that at the very least she would tell him whether or not Sansa and Arya were safe and well-kept in King's Landing. He thought of Jaime Lannister, covered in mud and bound with chains. He dreaded imagining his sisters in such a state. He'd be furious to know they were being kept the same way, but he knew that his bannermen would protest better accommodations for their prisoner.

He hoped that soon a raven would return happy news, that Sansa and Arya were unharmed and – he hoped desperately – soon on their way back home. Until that raven arrived, the war would wage on.

With a loud clang of metal against metal, the knight was thrown over the wall, landing with a lound thump on the ground far below. Joanna leaned forward in her seat to see, surprised, though she sat back when Joffrey leapt forward to peer down at the knight. Their enjoyment in watching swordplay and jousts was the only thing the two siblings shared between them, but the glee on Joffrey's face at every spot of blood or crack of bone left a sour taste in Joanna's mouth. She enjoyed the sport, but he enjoyed the injury.

"Well struck, dog!" he called as the Hound removed his helm. He turned to Sansa and pointed down at the knight's unmoving body. "Did you like that?"

"It was well struck, Your Grace," Sansa agreed in a soft voice.

"I already said it was well struck."

Sansa paused, looking him up and down.

"Yes, Your Grace."

He looked at her in disgust for a moment, before turning back to the revelries of the day. With his attention away, Joanna reached out to squeeze Sansa's hand, folded neatly in her lap. Sansa didn't look at her, only turned her eyes down to where their hands were connected and gave a half-hearted squeeze back. Joanna returned her hand to her own lap, making sure they were settled before Joffrey returned his attention to them again.

She had watched him carefully all morning, wondering. Rumor was spreading quicker than wildfire through the Seven Kingdoms, spread by her Uncle Stannis himself, who was calling himself the King of Dragonstone. It was vile, the insinuation that her mother would sleep with her own brother. She was sickened by the notion that she alone of her siblings was the daughter of Robert Baratheon. Perhaps she could believe that Joffrey, with his his sneers and unsettling glee at the suffering of others, was the product of such a revolting union. But not the others, not Myrcella and Tommen, despite the utter lack of Baratheon features anywhere in their faces. They were too sweet and innocent to have come from something so foul.

Nobody was particularly comfortable as they watched Joffrey berate the drunkard knight who'd arrived stumbling with his helmet. He was dragged away by Ser Meryn Trant, forced onto his knees and held in place as more Kingsguard approached to pour a barrel of wine down his throat. Joanna looked away, frowning. Only Sansa was brave enough to speak up.

"You can't!" she said. Joffrey turned to her with vicious eyes.

"What did you say? Did you say I can't?"

"I only meant...it would be bad luck to kill a man on your name day."

"What kind of stupid peasant superstition -?"

"The girl is right," the Hound stepped in. "What a man sows on his name day, he reaps all year."

Joffrey sighed. "Take him away," he commanded. "I'll have him killed tomorrow, the fool."

"He is," said Sansa. "A fool - you're so clever to see it. He'll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

Joanna looked at Sansa with surprise, examining her face even as Joffrey spoke. She looked the same as she always had, gentle and sweet, but was that a spark of determination that Joanna saw in her eyes? Her train of thought was interrupted by an unexpected voice.

"Beloved nephew!" came the call. Everyone's attention turned to Lord Tyrion, who entered with several warriors at his back. Joanna's heart leapt - she'd known her uncle had survived his kidnapping by Lady Stark, but she would never truly believe that he was alright until she saw him herself. And now here he was, clad in armor, looking as fine as ever.

"We looked for you on the battlefield," he said as he approached. "And you were nowhere to be found!"

"I've been here, ruling the kingdoms!" Joffrey replied.

"And what a fine job you've done," said Tyrion, having already served himself a glass of wine. He turned to Myrcella, smiling and leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Look at you! More beautiful than ever. And you -" he turned to Tommen. "Why, you're going to be bigger than the Hound - but much better looking!" He chuckled, motioning to the Hound. "This one doesn't like me."

"Can't imagine why," replied a knight he'd arrived with.

"We heard you were dead," said Joffrey with barely concealed scorn.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Myrcella cut in.

"Me too, dear. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world." He turned to Sansa, and said in a gentle voice, "My lady, I'm sorry for your loss."

Joffrey looked between them with incredulity. "Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor!"

"But still her father. Surely having recently lost your own beloved father you can sympathize."

Joffrey turned to Sansa expectantly. She turned to Tyrion.

"My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors, too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

"Of course you are," said Tyrion, then look a long swig of his wine before turning to Joanna. She shrunk in on herself. "Well. If it isn't my beloved niece. Remind me again, when was the last time I saw you?"

"I was following your orders," she retorted. "You can't possibly be mad."

He gave her a smile, reaching forward to grab her hand and give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Of course not," he replied. He motioned behind him to the group of warriors that had followed him in. "Besides, if not for you, I would never have met my friends here. Now," he finished his wine and placed the goblet on the table before them. "Enjoy your name day, Your Grace. I wish I could stay and celebrate, but there is work to be done."

"Work?" asked Joffrey, standing. "Why are you here?"

But Tyrion did not answer; he exited without a word, followed by the group of warriors that had followed him in.

Joanna frowned down at the letter in her hands. It had been delivered to her chambers while she was attending Joffrey's name day celebration, and she's found it placed neatly upon her desk when she'd returned. The wolf's head stamped into the grey wax had shocked her. She fumbled to tear open the letter and read it, eyes scanning the page almost frantically.

She had hoped perhaps it was good news, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting to hear. Maybe Robb Stark had thought of a solution? Maybe her mother and uncle had been absent from Joffrey's celebration because they were busy negotiating Sansa's exchange? But alas. It seemed that Robb was as powerless to influence her mother as she was. At least he could wage war to force her mother's hand. The only war Joanna could hope to wage was by raising her voice and proving to be, ultimately, hardly more than a nuisance to be locked up in her room.

At the very least, she could fulfill Robb's last wish to update him about his sisters' well-being. It seemed that he was, so far, unaware of Arya's disappearance. A troubling thought, but Joanna found relief that she was not trapped in the cage of the Red Keep like her sister was. Joanna had not had the chance to know Arya well, but as far as she could tell, the young Stark girl was wily and would, hopefully, do alright for herself on the city streets.

Sansa was doing surprisingly well. With all her sweetness and naivety, Joanna had expected her to wilt like a dying flower in the weeks following her father's death. She had rather found herself surprised when she continued as ever, terrified and often tearful in the privacy of Joanna's company, but quietly and gracefully strong when subjected to Joffrey's attentions. Joanna had made a note to herself not to underestimate her young friend again.

A brief knock came at the door before the guard announced her mother's arrival. Joanna only had the brief time as the door swung open to shove Robb's letter haphazardly into the tight confines of her corset, adjusting her gown's neckline to ensure that the crumpled parchment was well concealed. Cersei swept in as she always did, with measured magnificence, coming to a stop right in the center of Joanna's room with her hands clasped in front of her and an expectant look on her face.

"Mother," she greeted, forcing a smile that she hoped looked much less forced than it felt.

"I heard that you received a letter from Robb Stark," her mother stated in lieu of a greeting. She looked Joanna up and down with a distrustful look, and she found herself feeling almost offended. "What on earth could the Stark boy have to say to you?"

In a split second, Joanna considered her options. She could tell the complete truth, or she could make up a lie. Either way, it could lead to her mother wanting to see the letter, in which case she would have to come up with a reason for pulling it out of her corset. If she did that, she was sure her mother would suspect that she was conspiring with Robb Stark in some way. She was, granted, but the idea was for her mother not to know. Instead, she decided on a different lie altogether.

"I haven't a clue," she said with a shrug. "I burnt it on a candle as soon as I saw who it was from."

Cersei let out a huff, brushing past Joanna to serve herself a drink from the wine pitcher that sat on her table.

"Did you not consider that there may have been something written in that letter that could have been useful to us?"

Joanna rolled her eyes. Gods, there's no winning with you, is there? she thought. She turned and gave her mother the most innocent smile she could muster. After seventeen years of mischief and arguing, however, she wasn't sure her face remembered how to do such a thing.

"Your right, mother. Forgive me. I thought only that I didn't want to bear a treasonous letter."

Cersei turned to look at her once more, eyes narrowed and calculating. Mothers knew her children, and Cersei of all people in the world knew how full of shit Joanna could be when she was trying to get her way. But Joanna was almost always trying to get her way; the trick was puzzling out when she was lying and when she wasn't.

"After all," Joanna continued, as though to convince her further, "after all the trouble the Starks have caused, I've had enough to do with them."

Her mother stared her down for another moment, finally breaking her gaze when she tipped back her goblet to take a big drink of wine.

"Very well," she said. "Should you receive another letter from the Stark boy, bring it straight to me."

Her mother swept past her and was out the door almost as quickly as she came. Joanna let out a long sigh once she was gone, shifting in discomfort as she crinkled edges of the parchment in her corset scratched her skin. That was the woman that Robb Stark wanted her to appeal to. Did he know what he was asking of her? After all the trouble she got in by telling Ned Stark about her uncle's arrest, she was sure her mother would never trust her again. Clearly she had people watching her if she knew as soon as Joanna did that she'd received a letter.

Not as though it would stop Joanna. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but she was discontent knowing that the only good idea for her was to sit quiet and complacent as the war became more serious and violent. She pulled the letter from her corset, smoothing it and reading it over twice more before lighting it upon a candle and dropping it in the metal pail to let it burn.

A/N: Hello again! Apologies for the delay! I know I said I'd get a new chapter out by the premiere but I got busy graduating college. But here I am! Super inspired and also unemployed! So hopefully I'll have lots of time to write and get new chapters out to you (but hopefully for the sake of my bills and my future, not TOO much time...)

HUGE thanks to annavale23, camelotprincess1, Rose, eaw, and Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967 for your reviews! Every review is really appreciated and really helps me get motivated to write more. I also appreciate all of you silent lurkers who've faved and followed!

Another reminder that this story is also posted and updated on AO3 under the title "Gold Shall Be Their Crowns." It's the same exact story except some of the chapters were slightly rewritten to be a bit better. Attention over there too is very much appreciated!

I'd love to hear all of your opinions on the current season! I have very mixed feelings - the good things were done incredibly well, but the bad things were done really badly. But I really didn't go into this season with any expectations so I'm not as disappointed as apparently a ton of people online are. Nonetheless, I've only tentatively decided how this story will end (a million years from now when I finally get to that point) so I'm especially curious to see how y'all would like it to end (or would have liked it to end if things went differently.)

If you have any thoughts about the story/chapter, please consider taking a moment to write them out in a review - I'd love to see what you think! Thanks everybody for tuning in to my lil story again, I'll be back before George R. R. Martin finishes writing the next book ;)

Until next time!

Rex