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XXI
Dragonstone
Joanna was no stranger to magnificent sites; few things in the world could compare to the Red Keep's towering spires or the sheer breadth of the Wall. Nevertheless, Dragonstone's ominous figure was daunting as it loomed before her. It was older than the Red Keep, and its age showed in the rough and ragged architecture. The stone didn't carry the same ancient feeling of the Wall, the feeling that this structure existed long before you arrived and would stand well after you were gone, and yet as Joanna stood in the entrance hall waiting to be received, she couldn't shake the feeling that – despite the Baratheon banners that adorned the walls – she did not belong here.
She and Desmera were beckoned into a cavernous room, filled by a massive wooden table on which was painted a map of the Seven Kingdoms. At its head, silhouetted against the grey sky outside the open chamber wall, stood three people; her uncle, despite not sharing the same imposing figure as her father, carried the same air of authority that came so naturally to him; at his right hand stood another man whom Joanna had never met, rough and haggard looking but with a much less imposing look than her uncle; at his left hand lingered a woman clad entirely in robes as bright and vividly red as her hair.
Stannis gave Joanna what she supposed was his friendliest look.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of my dear niece's presence?" he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice. Joanna kept her head high and her face resolute.
"My brother tried to kill me," she replied. She detected a hint of surprise on Stannis's otherwise steely face. "I think you and I both know why."
"I must say, I'm surprised the Lannisters allowed my brother's only true child out of their grasp," he said.
"They didn't," she said. "Not willingly, anyway. They tried to send me to Casterly Rock."
"And you came here instead?" asked the man standing to her uncle's right.
"You spread a rumor that almost cost me my life," Joanna responded, meeting Stannis's wary gaze with a challenging one of her own. "I want to know why you think it's true."
"They are not my words," Stannis responded smoothly. "Before his death, Eddard Stark passed the knowledge of King Joffrey's illegitimacy to me. He wished to crown me in your bastard brother's place. When he died, I knew it was my duty to spread this knowledge and remove the pretender from my rightful throne."
Seven hells, Joanna agreed with him, but did he have to sound so arrogant? As though his holy righteousness wasn't enough, the Red Woman spoke suddenly.
"The Lord of Light has made his will known," she said, voice deep and mesmerizing. "Doubt clouds the vision of the nonbelievers, but the Princess's sight is clear. It was the Lord of Light who guided you to your true King."
The words were complete nonsense to Joanna. She barely resisted the urge to turn to Desmera and make a face. She briefly caught the eyes on the man at her uncle's right hand; he had a grimace on his face and shifted on his feet uncomfortably.
"Regardless of what gods brought her here, she's here now," he said.
"Indeed," Stannis agreed, though the red woman's words seemed to have the opposite effect on him than it did on his companion and Joanna. The look of mistrust on his face was gone, and he looked incredibly pleased. "You are most welcome here, Joanna. My wife Selyse will see that chambers are prepared for you."
Accommodations at Dragonstone left much to be desired. The rooms were similar in many ways to Winterfell, all dark stone and furs for warmth. Dragonstone was much less homely and comfortable than Winterfell was, however, and the differences made Joanna only that much more uneasy. As sure as she was that the Starks must dislike her by now, she was still certain that she'd feel more relaxed and welcome at Winterfell than she did here.
She sat before the gently crackling fire, absently rubbing the sore wound on her shoulder. It was aching, as were the reopened cuts that crisscrossed her hand.
"Are you hurt?" came a soft voice, and Joanna turned in surprise to see a small face peeking around the corner of the doorway at her. She couldn't see the child's full face, but the familiar features assured her that it was her young cousin, Shireen.
"I am," Joanna said with a sigh. "But I'll be alright. You can come in."
With a small smile, Shireen stepped fully into the room, and Joanna could see her whole face now. Shireen had been scarred from greyscale, and it left hard and mottled lines on half her face, but it didn't seem to affect her demeanor. She sat on the seat beside Joanna, so small that when she scooted back, her feet didn't quite touch the floor.
"You're my cousin, right?" Shireen asked.
"That's right," Joanna said with a smile. "I don't think we've met before. I'm Joanna."
"I'm Shireen," she said with a little smile. Joanna's smile grew.
"I know."
"Why are you here?" Shireen kicked her feet idly, the soles of her shoes breezing just over the floor.
"Well," Joanna said, thinking for a moment how to phrase all that had happened so suddenly in the last few weeks. "When my father died, your father should've become the king, but he didn't."
"Your brother did," Shireen said. Joanna nodded.
"Right."
"But your brother's a bastard," she continued. Joanna looked at her carefully. Shireen was small, but she must have been of an age with Tommen, she thought. Just as sweet, but perhaps a touch keener.
"Right," Joanna said again. "So I'm here to try and help your father get his throne."
"I see," said Shireen with a nod. "I'm sorry your shoulder hurts. I'd summon the Maester, but he died the other day."
"Oh," said Joanna dumbly. Shireen didn't quite seem sad or upset at this, and Joanna was at a loss of how to react. "I'm sorry."
Shireen shrugged with a grimace. "Lady Melisandre brought lots of strange new rules with her," she said. "Along with her strange new religion."
"Shireen!"
Both girls startled and turned to find Selyse standing in the doorway. She was a small woman as well, willowy and, if Joanna where honest, rather grey. But she held an imposing figure nonetheless, stern and nearly manic in her expression and tone of voice.
"Lady Melisandre is our honored guest," she said sharply. "Back to your lessons."
With a reluctant nod, Shireen slid off of her chair, bid Joanna a quiet goodbye, and slinked past her mother out the door.
"Excuse her," said Selyse with a strained smile. "I'll make sure she doesn't bother you again."
"She doesn't bother me," Joanna assured.
"Our Maester did, in fact, die recently," she continued, speaking as though she hadn't heard Joanna. "He died for his blasphemy against the Lord of Light. Our household has suffered no loss. We've requested a replacement from the Citadel, for Shireen – but I'm sure Lady Melisandre can procure a salve of some kind if you're in pain."
Joanna's smile faltered; she struggled to be polite. Perhaps in time she'd come to discover who the hell the Lord of Light was, and why the women here seemed to be so fanatical about him. "Thank you," she said, "but I think all it needs now is time."
"Of course. If you are feeling well enough, His Grace requests your presence at the meeting of his council this evening."
Joanna couldn't help the speed with which her eyebrows shot up her forehead. This was certainly a surprise. When was the last time she had been allowed to be privy to….anything, ever? Already, she felt the swell in her chest of making a good decision. No one in her family had ever let her sit in on anything important. She smiled warmly.
"Thank you," she said, trying not to sound giddy. "You can assure him I'll be there."
By the time that Joanna arrived at the Chamber of the Painted Table, most of the other lords in Stannis's council had already arrived. A seat was saved for her near the head of the table where her uncle sat, and she took it happily, gazing around at the others. She recognized several of their sigils, in particular the gold fox of her aunt's House Florent and the silver seahorse of House Velaryon. Many of the sigils of the smaller vassals were lost on her, and the first thing she noted on the stationary she'd brought with her was to learn exactly which houses were sworn to Dragonstone.
"As I'm sure you have noticed," Stannis began, "My niece Joanna, my brother Robert's only trueborn child, has found her way to court of the rightful king."
In an instant, all of the attention in the room was on her – even Stannis paused, gaze turned to her, as he made it clear that he expected her to speak up.
"Indeed," she said, clearing her throat slightly. "My brother, the usurper, sent a man from his Kingsguard to kill me. It was only by incredible luck that I survived. When arrangements were made for me to be sent to Casterly Rock, I decided to come here instead – to the rightful King."
Stannis seemed to enjoy hearing that, and she caught a ghost of a smile across his face as he nodded. There was a quiet murmur of affirmation around the table.
"We are, of course, happy to receive her," he said. "She comes at a promising time, I'm told. Ser Davos."
Now, he turned the attention to Davos at his right hand. Joanna's eyebrows rose slightly in recognition at the name. The old sailor cleared his throat before speaking.
"That's right," he affirmed. "Salladhor Saan will join our fleet with his thirty ships. His men are good sailors, and good fighters."
"Are they loyal?" Stannis asked, a hint of distrust in his voice.
"Pirates are loyal to gold, which you've promised," Davos replied.
"What gold?" Joanna cut in. Stannis turned to her, apparently not expecting her input.
"They have been promised a fortune of gold from King's Landing, once they've helped us capture it," Davos responded.
She hoped she doubt didn't show on her face as she wrote this down on her stationary.
"Should we truly be fighting alongside pirates? Sellwords?" one of the minor lords asked. Stannis considered this. He turned his attention to Davos.
"Do you trust him?"
"Salladhor Saan is an old friend, I've known I'm thirty years. I've never trusted him. Now, once he gets the smell of gold, he never stops."
"Well, if he does his part, he'll get his share."
And with that, the matter was settled. Next came the matter of their enemies.
"The traitor, Robb Stark, has won yet another battle," one of the lords down the table said. "He has gained the upper hand in recent weeks following the battle at Whispering Wood; our scouts have confirmed that he is holding Jaime Lannister prisoner."
From the corner of her eye, Joanna swore she could see Stannis's gaze turn to her. She kept her face carefully schooled; dear though her uncle was to her, she knew that Robb would do nothing that would put Sansa in danger. Her uncle Jaime was safe, and she was sure that her mother and grandfather were already scrambling to do all they could to get him back.
"He is doing us a favor by keeping Tywin Lannister busy. I don't believe he will return to King's Landing until his son is no longer in the enemy's hands," Lord Velaryon said. "Especially if Robb Stark truly is preparing to attack Casterly Rock, as we believe."
"Which leaves King's Landing vulnerable to our attack," Stannis noted. "Hopefully the Stark boy will act sooner, rather than later. We would be well-positioned to strike King's Landing if he attacks Casterly Rock."
"Even with support from the Riverlands, the Stark army doesn't have enough manpower to capture the Rock," one of the Florent lords said.
"And if we are lucky, he will be fool enough not to realize it," said Stannis. "The best we can hope for is for Tywin Lannister to kill Robb Stark when he attacks Casterly Rock and solve one of my problems for me."
Even careful schooling couldn't keep the frown off of Joanna's face at those words; if Stannis or anyone noticed, they paid her the courtesy of keeping it to themselves.
Every single time she closed her eyes, she was there again – on the floor, held in the tight and unyielding grip of her brother's Kingsguard. There was a blade in her shoulder and blood on her hands. In her dreams, he finished the job, and she woke with a start as her vision began to fade. Beside her, Desmera was none the wiser, sleeping peacefully. She had been incredibly indulgent of Joanna's idea to abandon her family and come to Dragonstone, and Joanna was not inclined to wake her and burden her dearest friend with even more of her troubles.
Joanna sat slowly in an attempt not to pull at the aching wound in her shoulder. It was healing well, but still pulled uncomfortably if she didn't treat it right. Her hand was healing as well, skin pink and raised in a line across her palm where she had tried to hold Ser Boros Blount's blade away from her. Slipping from the bed, she slipped her stocking-clad feet into her shoes and wrapped a warm cloak over her shoulders. The fire in the hearth was burning low; she took a candle from its holder and lit it on the embers to carry with her through the halls.
The air was colder in the corridors, but its chill was refreshing. Once more, she missed the openness of her chambers in King's Landing, where on nightmare-filled nights she could sit beneath the stars and feel the sea breeze on her face. Wandering the halls of Dragonstone would have to do for now. She hardly knew its layout, and the halls around her were even more unfamiliar in the dark. Getting lost was not of too much worry to her. She felt safe here, for now, under the protection of her uncle. Her presence here strengthened his claim to the Iron Throne, and she was sure that he would not be inclined to jeopardize that, especially not now when he had the smallest army of any of the Five Kings.
Eventually, she came across another glowing light approaching her. Ser Davos turned the corner, a candle in his hand as well, and paused upon seeing her. She smiled sheepishly.
"I hope I didn't startle you," she said. Davos smiled.
"Of course not, Princess," he said. "I haven't yet introduced myself. I'm –"
"Ser Davos Seaworth," she finished with a nod. "I grew up hearing the story of how you broke the Siege of Storm's End during my father's rebellion."
"Indeed," Davos nodded. "Is there somewhere you're trying to get to?"
Joanna shifted on her feet, considering. "I was hoping to find the library, eventually."
"I could show you there, if you'd like," he offered. She smiled.
"Yes, thank you."
The two turned and set off back the way that Ser Davos had come. For a moment, their walk was quiet and companionable. Joanna observed the well-worn walls and dusty stag tapestries.
"If I may ask," Davos began, "is there a reason you're wandering the castle at this hour?"
"You may," Joanna said, before pausing for a moment. Perhaps if she were not sleep-addled, she would have been more guarded. Instead, she admitted, "I suffer nightmares of my brother's attack on me. I dream that it was successful." She tightened her grip on the candle holder. "It truly was incredible luck that I was saved. I had no weapon, and even if I did, it's not as though I'd know how to use it. Of all people in the realm to learn to fight, it should be the women. We're often the ones who need it the most. Alas, I could only learn to hunt, and even that was discouraged."
Davos made a noise of quiet contemplation. "I'm sorry. When the Maester arrives from the Citadel, you could ask him for essence of nightshade to sleep soundly." Joanna was quiet at his suggestion, but he seemed to ponder further. "It would require King Stannis's blessing, but…" he began. Joanna paused to look at him; he seemed unsure of whether to continue. But he had already started, and seemed to make up his mind. "My son Maric is a talented swordsman, and a patient teacher. He could help you."
Excitement shot through her, and she was sure it was lighting up her face brighter than the candle in her hand.
"You would be no soldier, mind you," he said, as though to calm her delight. "But you could protect yourself, if it came to it."
"You would ask that of Stannis?" she asked, grinning so widely her cheeks hurt.
"I would."
"Oh, please, then you must. You could do nothing better."
"Very well," Davos said with a smile. He motioned them to continue walking. "I'll ask him in the morning. I don't see that he would refuse such a simple request."
"I would love nothing more," Joanna said earnestly. "I don't need to be a knight and don armor. I don't even need a sword of my own. Just to know would make me feel better."
"I'm glad to do what I can."
"And what about you, then?" Joanna asked, pivoting their conversation. "What has kept you from your bed tonight?"
"Boats," he answered. "I've just finished overseeing the preparation of transport to the Stormlands. King Stannis is soon to leave, to treat with Renly."
"Gods," Joanna said. "That will be a disaster."
Davos gave a gruff chuckle.
"Don't tell Stannis I've told you," he said, "but you may be there to see it in person. It seems he intends for you to accompany him."
"I see," she said with interest. "I suppose he thinks that if Renly sees me, he'll change his mind."
"He may yet," said Davos.
"I'm not so sure," Joanna replied. "If Renly is really so bold as to defy Stannis's birthright, I don't think I'll make much difference."
"I suppose we'll have to see," said Davos. They paused at the doors to the library.
"You're welcome to join me in reading, Ser Davos," she offered.
"Thank you, Princess, but no," he said. "I can't read – and it's late, and I'm tired besides."
She smiled. "Thank you for your help, Ser Davos. Stannis is smart to keep you in close company."
"That he is," Davos nodded. "Goodnight, Princess."
They parted ways, and Joanna entered the quiet and dimly lit library. She wandered for several moments, holding her candle close to the book spines to read the many titles available. For a moment, she considered indulging herself in fairytales, to dream of pleasant and fantastical things. Instead, she walked to where the books of war and strategy were located. Stannis trusted her at his council table, and she was determined for him not to regret that decision. If she intended to help him win the war, she would need to learn to be useful. Resolute, she sat down with a book of tactics and began to read.
Lord Robb,
First, forgive the time that has passed since you last wrote to me. Much has changed in such a short time. Until recently, it was not safe for me to pass you the information you requested. I was targeted by my brother in an attack on my life, and since have been sent away from the Red Keep. The rumors of his parentage are true, and I was viewed as a threat. I write to you now from Dragonstone, where my uncle Stannis has declared himself King.
It was your father who passed the truth of Joffrey's parentage to Stannis. Your father knew that Stannis is the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. I must implore you to follow the example your father would have set, to bend the knee to Stannis. We are not meant to be enemies. The sooner we can ally our causes, the sooner your family can be reunited and peace can resume.
I regret that I could not take Sansa from the Red Keep with me. When I left the capitol, she was well, and I believe that she is safe from harm as long as Jaime Lannister remains unharmed in your custody. I must warn you that your sister Arya has not been seen since the purge of your family's household in the Red Keep before your father's death. The belief in the Red Keep is that she had escaped from danger during the confusion. I would never have had enough sway on my mother to encourage her to trade your sister for my uncle, but I encourage you to insist on a trade. My uncle is a valuable member of our family, and I believe my mother will stop at very little to have him returned.
Please do not hesitate to correspond with me further. I understand that Stannis may not be receptive of your terms of allyship, but I believe that I can build his trust and encourage him to consider your terms. Truly, I am sorry that I could not do more for you or your family during my time in the Red Keep. I will do what I can for you now; you need only ask.
Joanna
It was the third rewriting of a letter that she had agonized over for weeks, ever since the moment a letter bearing a grey wolf had found its way to her writing desk in the Red Keep. It was impossible for her to write and send him a response without the information inevitably finding its way back to her mother, but here at Dragonstone, she was far less restricted.
She hoped it would help. Perhaps if she could not convince him to bend the knee to Stannis, she could at least bring him comfort in knowing that Sansa was safe and well. She did not expect that Robb would return a letter of fervent support for Stannis, nor did she expect Stannis to be receptive to terms of an allyship. Stannis would not fight beside Robb as long as he called himself King in the North. Still, she hoped that there could be another solution, something that didn't end with the destruction of the Stark family, either by the Lannisters or by Stannis.
When her letter was finished, sealed with a stag in honey-yellow wax, she sat back in her chair and considered the stationary in front of her. She had half a mind to write to Sansa once more, to reiterate all the fervent apologies that she had written in her first letter, the one that she had left with Tyrion on the day she departed. She hoped desperately that Sansa understood how truly reluctant she was to leave her alone in the Red Keep, like a mouse alone in a snake pit.
But a message with her seal, or anyone else's from Dragonstone, would be easily recognizable. Joanna didn't know what kind of punishment Sansa might face from corresponding with her, but she didn't believe it was worth the risk. She was risking her own safety by corresponding with Robb in the manner she was, offering an allyship so openly without any word of it to Stannis. After all she had done to protect her, today would not be the day that Joanna would put Sansa in any danger of harm.
She set aside her stationary resolutely, before she could allow herself to rethink.
A/N: Hi I'm not dead!
Sorry for the long wait, but I've got a longer than usual chapter to try and make it up to you all :) I will say it again: I do not intend to abandon this fic ever, even if it means that I'm still writing it ten years from now.
Hey! Some plot progression! I'm going to try and speed up the pacing a bit, but there's going to be a lot more happening now than ever before, so hopefully it'll speed itself up in a way.
I would like to acknowledge annavale23, HPuni101, Lt-Spork89, and xXMoonlitSorrowsXx for the reviews! Comments help inspire and motivate me to write 100% of the time, and I appreciate you all for taking a moment to write out your thoughts on my story :) I also appreciate everyone who has added this story to their faves and follows! That anyone at all takes time to read and appreciate my story is really lovely, and something that I value a lot.
With quick regards to xXMoonlitSorrowsXx's review: that's totally a fair question! Within the Game of Thrones world (or at least in Westeros) a girl can't inherit the throne on her own right unless she has no living male relatives. So, even though Joanna is Robert's only legitimate child, since she is his daughter his closest male relative (being Stannis) becomes his heir. Stannis is a stickler for the rules, hence crowning himself. That being said, just because that's the law at this point in the story doesn't mean that will be the case forever. (No spoilers...or is it?)
Hopefully the next chapter will not take seven whole months to write! But, ah, no promises unfortunately. This story has gone on for such a long time, and I appreciate all of you who've stuck around :) I'll do my best to get the next one out soon.
Until next time!
Rex