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XXII

Stormlands

The sword scraped terribly against the ground, but Joanna's arms burned too badly to hold it aloft again.

"Gods," she huffed as the tip of the sword clanged on the stone floor of the balcony. "I understand why you swordsmen are so well-muscled."

Maric's laugh was as clear and bright as the chilly morning.

"Keep going," he bade. "We're not stopping until you're stronger than I am."

"You're funny," she deadpanned, and made no move to lift the sword again.

"Go on," he said, "I'm not joking. We've only just started."

"Surely there's a lighter weapon that I could learn."

"Sure," Maric shrugged. "But if you want to defend yourself at a moment's notice, odds are this is the closest thing you'll find. Nearly every man in the Seven Kingdoms has got one of those on his hip."

Defeated, Joanna blew an errant strand of hair away from her face. Initially, the sword was not so heavy, but rather a comfortable weight in her hands. After an hour of learning how to hold it properly, she had hardly gotten the chance to swing it before the muscles in her arms gave out. Maric did not seem inclined to grant her a reprieve from learning, which was too bad because Joanna was not inclined to give up. Bracing herself for the discomfort, Joanna lifted the sword once more and shuffled her feet into the fighting stance that Maric had shown her.

He looked what she imagined Davos must have looked like in his youth, and resembled his father strongly. He stood nearly a full head taller than her, and was strongly built. He crossed his arms, furrowing his brow as he examined her stance. Several long moments passed in silence, only broken by the occasional thoughtful noise and the scratch of Maric's hand over his short beard. Arms trembling with the effort of keeping the sword up, Joanna clenched her jaw. Her gaze flicked over to him, only to find him watching her with a bemused expression. It struck her - he was messing with her. She gave a frustrated groan and dropped the sword with a clatter and crash just as the grin split his face.

"Oh, piss off!" she said, but couldn't help but laugh at the sound of his childish giggles. He must have had a handful of years on her, but he was youthful in his disposition, and his dimpled cheeks gave him a boyish charm. He was much less of an intimidating teacher than she had been expecting.

"What's most important is that you're strong enough to hold the sword," he said, sobering. "It's of no use to you at all if you can't get it high enough in the air to strike someone. Once you learn to do that, I'll teach you how to strike someone well. But, if you wish to be done for the day, Princess, we can be done."

"We're not done," Joanna insisted. "Just let me get some water."

She turned to the pitcher, sat on the low wall nearby. They had set up on one of Dragonstone's few spacious stone courtyards, and although it was open to the sea breeze, Joanna's brow was beaded with sweat. It was rather a new sensation for her; she hadn't worked this hard at anything in quite some time. The last time she had worked up a proper sweat must have been on a hunt long ago, and that was almost certainly more to do with the stifling heat of the south.

Maric grabbed Joanna's sword from the ground, and leant both swords against the low wall where Joanna was sat before taking a seat beside her. Davos had spoken true when he'd called Maric a patient teacher. He took all of Joanna's huffs and curses in stride, pushed her when he knew she could take it, and allowed her rest when he was sure she wasn't giving up. She hoped that he would accompany them to the Stormlands on the morrow so their lessons could continue.

The tightness of her arms faded, but a dull ache lingered in her shoulder. It was healing well; the new Maester that had arrived had assured her that she wasn't risking reinjury by learning swordplay. Her body was healing, but her mind still plagued her with uneasy dreams. Often, alone and shaken in the dark of the night, she found herself wishing faintly that her Uncle Jaime had been in the Red Keep that day. As a young girl, he had always assured her that he would protect her from any monsters that sought to hurt her. At the time, he had referred only to the dark shadows in the corners of her room, the monsters that she had been sure crept out from under her bed as soon as she was sleep. She'd come to realize that, having grown older, she'd continued to believe his assurances. Indeed, no matter where she was or who was around, she'd always felt a degree of safety when her Uncle Jaime was near. He was the best swordsman in the kingdom, and even if they weren't as close as she was with Tyrion, she had never questioned whether he would protect her if he needed to.

She wondered, sometimes, if he would have protected her on that evening from Ser Boros's blade. Would he have intervened, plunged his sword into the Kingsguard's gut the same way that Tyrion's companion did? Or would he have sided with her mother, sat quiet and complicit when the monsters became real and set her in their sites?

It didn't matter, she reminded herself. What had come to pass had come to pass, and when it did, her uncle was away fighting on the wrong side of an unjust war. She would learn to fight for herself now, and never have to rely the protection of her uncle or anyone else.

Maric watched her as she sat quietly, absentmindedly drawing a thumb over the raised scar that crossed the palm of her other hand.

"Are you well?" he asked. Joanna snapped her attention out of her thoughts.

"I'm fine," she said, resolute. Even though her legs were tired, she stood. "Let's go again."

The air in the Stormlands was cool and salty. The ground was hard and cold, and when they rode out to parley with Renly, they were lucky enough to catch a brief break in the storm that had been plaguing them since they'd made landfall. They met on neutral ground, facing each other on a high cliff overlooking Shipbreaker Bay, far enough from Storm's End that it couldn't be seen on the horizon. Neither brother came bearing the proper Baratheon sigil; Stannis flew his own flag, bearing the flaming heart of his new religion, and Renly bore a gold stag upon the light green of the Tyrells. Something of it made Joanna uneasy.

She sat atop her horse on Davos's left hand, himself on the left hand of Stannis, with Melisandre on his right. Renly approached with Loras Tyrell at his back, flanked by several knights that Joanna didn't know. But to her surprise, she did recognize the person at Renly's left hand - Lady Catelyn Stark. She was who Stannis addressed first.

"Lady Stark," he said. "I'd not thought to find you in the Stormlands."

"I'd not thought to be here, Lord Stannis," she replied. She placed only enough emphasis on the word Lord to avoid being rude, but to make it completely clear where her loyalties fell - as though accompanying Renly to such a parley were not clear enough.

"Can that truly be you?" Renly asked. He looked regal in his polished armor and gleaming crown, but something of it struck Joanna like a boy playing dress-up. He did not wear it comfortably or assuredly, but rather like pageantry.

"Who else might it be?" Stannis replied. Already he sounded tired.

"When I saw your standard, I couldn't be sure. Whose banner is that?"

"My own."

Renly smiled. "I suppose if we used the same one, the battle'd be terribly confusing. Why's your stag on fire?"

"The King has taken for his sigil the firey heart of the Lord of Light," Melisandre explained.

"Ah," said Renly, "this must be the fire priestess we hear so much about. Brother, now I understand why you found religion in your old age."

"Watch yourself, Renly."

"No, no! I'm relieved. I never really believed you're a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, a bore - yes. But not a godly man."

"You should kneel before your brother," Melisandre cut in again. "He's the Lord's chosen, born amidst salt and smoke."

"Born amidst salt and smoke?" Renly smiled again. "Is he a ham?"

"That's twice I've warned you," Stannis ground out.

Gods, it was like listening to children quarrel. Joanna might almost think this were a parley of brothers squabbling over a toy, and not between two men who would call themselves king. Only Catelyn Stark seemed to see this.

"Listen to yourselves," she said. "If you were sons of mine, I would knock your heads together and lock you in a bedchamber until you remembered that you are brothers."

"It is strange to find you beside my brother, Lady Stark," Stannis noted. "Your husband was a supporter of my claim. Lord Eddard's integrity cost him his head, and you sit beside this pretender and chastise me."

"We share a common enemy," she explained.

"We do," Joanna cut in. "And instead of joining his brother in defeating that enemy, Lord Renly has seen it fit to sow further division in the kingdom."

"Please," Renly cut back with a scoff. "I'm saving the people from suffering Stannis as their king."

"The Iron Throne is mine, by right," Stannis said. "All those who deny that are my foes."

"The whole realm denies it, from Dorne to the Wall. Old men deny it with their death rattle and unborn children deny it in their mothers' wombs. No one wants you for their king. You never wanted any friends, brother. But a man without friends is a man without power."

Stannis clenched his jaw. "For the sake of the mother who bore us, I will give you this one night to reconsider. Strike your banners, come to me before dawn, and I will grant you your old seat in the council. I'll even name you my heir, until a son is born to me. Otherwise I shall destroy you."

Renly was not stirred by Stannis's proclaimation.

"Look across those fields, brother. Can you see all those banners?"

"You think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?"

"No. The men holding those bolts of cloth will make me king."

"We shall see, Renly. Come the dawn, we shall see."

He turned his horse to leave. The rest of the party followed, but Melisandre lingered.

"Look to your sins, Lord Renly," she warned. "The night is dark, and full of terrors."

It was the only parley Joanna had witnessed in her life, and she didn't think she would live to see one worse. As soon as they were left to the quiet of their travel back to camp, she began to draft a letter in her head. Despite her best efforts, she and Catelyn Stark always seemed to find themselves on opposite sides on an issue. At least here, she believed that they could find some common ground.

She didn't believe that either Stannis nor Renly had gone to parley with any intention of making peace. They had both come to front, to gloat and taunt the other about their claims to the throne. More than anything, Renly was showing off. He wanted them to see his crown, his Kingsguard, and most of all, his army. And, indeed, he did have the greater army than Stannis did. But that was where Lady Stark came into play.

As soon as she had access to her stationary again, Joanna got quickly to writing. Catelyn was right; they shared a common enemy. It was in all of their best interest to destroy the Lannister family, to tear Joffrey off of the Iron Throne and quash the people who propped him up. They only stood a chance against them if they joined together.

She laid out the terms as clearly as she could. Stannis would have Sansa safely in his custody when he took King's Landing, but he needed more soldiers to ensure a victory. Robb only needed to bend the knee and pledge his soldiers to Stannis, and they could assure Sansa's safe return from the capitol.

She hesitated before continuing:

My Lady, I know that we have been in opposition in the past. Please know that I care for Sansa deeply, and during my time in the capitol, I did all that I could do to keep her safe and well. In the past I have done what I can to protect your family from undue strife, and I would prefer to consider House Stark as allies rather than as enemies.

When the letter was complete, folded and stamped with her seal, she passed it to Maric's hand. He had assured her that he would take every care to deliver the letter to Lady Stark directly and without detection, and as Joanna watched him leave, she felt her chest fill with dread.

Storm's End loomed high over them. It was a beautiful castle, solid and well-kept. The army, now several times larger in number than it had been only days previously, were preparing camp around the keep. The morning that had promised a battle between brothers, had instead dawned with the news that Renly was dead. It was fortuitous timing - suspiciously so, in Joanna's opinion - but Stannis and the rest seemed to take it all in stride. They had the power of the Stormlords at their back now, and the Tyrells were marching back to Highgarden.

The keep was warmer and more welcoming than Dragonstone. Joanna was keen to remain here for a while, though the people here had yet to warm to them. She understood that Renly had been their liege lord for many years, but he had earned his fate - no matter how mysterious it was. Stannis was not perfect, but he knew the laws of the kingdom and honored them. Sad though Renly's death was, it was one less warmonger in a kingdom that was growing more war-torn by the day. All things considered, gaining the Stormlands with only one casualty was a striking victory for Stannis.

Shortly after they'd settled in the keep, Joanna received a letter stamped with a wolf's head. She tore the letter open eagerly; it was too soon to be Robb's response to Catelyn's terms, but she hoped that perhaps it carried good news nonetheless.

It did not.

As Warden of the North, I am bound by duty and by honor to represent the interests and sentiments of my people. They have raised me as their king, as have many of the lords of the Riverlands. Believe me when I tell you that I wish matters were as simple as bending the knee, but as becoming king was not my decision, the title is not mine to yield. I must implore you to warm Stannis to these terms; I cannot accept an alliance any other way.

With a clenched jaw, she tossed the letter carelessly down onto the desk. She knew that Robb was right. If power was as simple as being handed from one person to another, none of them would be in this mess. It didn't make it any less frustrating to try forging an alliance between two men so resolutely and diametrically opposed. Somehow, despite their complete and utter opposition, they would both benefit so much if only they could agree to an alliance.

In the evening, she joined Stannis, Davos, and Melisandre in Stannis's solar. They stood around a long table, upon which was spread a large and thoroughly detailed map of the Seven Kingdoms.

On the map laid out in front of them, all the pieces were set in place very carefully. On the land were several sets of pegs representing their ground troops, and in the sea were a fleet of pegs carved into ships. Half of the fleet were positioned in Shipbreaker Bay, and the other half were positioned around Dragonstone. All of them were pointed rather ominously towards King's Landing.

"Damn the Tyrells," Stannis ground out through clenched teeth. "If they'd joined with their true king, we'd overwhelm the Lannisters. When I take the city, they'll be the first to feel my fury."

"What of the Starks?" Davos asked, pointing to the grey wolf-shaped pegs situated further north on the map. Stannis scoffed, retrieving a roll of parchment from his belt and tossing it upon the map.

"Begging for an alliance," he said with derision. Davos (who, Joanna remembered, could not read) didn't make a move to pick up the parchment, so she did, unrolling it carefully and skimming over the words. "He insists he must remain king of the North and the Riverlands. This thief thinks he can ask for an alliance and half of my kingdom. When the Tyrells are destroyed, we'll march north."

"Perhaps an alliance can still be forged," Joanna said, half a beat before her brain suggested to keep her mouth closed. Stannis's gaze snapped to her. "Why waste valuable soldiers fighting the Starks? When you take the city, offer them Sansa Stark if he bends the knee."

Stannis scoffed. "A kingdom for his sister?"

"She's the reason they started marching south in the first place," she said. "Offer it. I believe the Starks will go to great lengths to reunite their family."

"You are, of course, assuming that the Lannisters won't kill her during the battle."

Joanna's heart jumped in her chest; she felt sick at the thought. "Well then you must take all precaution to protect her, to keep her alive. Her life would cost you thousands of men in battle with the Starks."

"If we can promise the girl's safe return, perhaps they Starks will join us before the attack," Davos put in. "We could coordinate attacks on Casterly Rock and King's Landing, or they could march on the city while we come by sea."

By this point, Stannis had turned his gaze down to the map. He seemed to be considering it, which was the best that Joanna could hope for. If he was amenable, she would write to Robb immediately to try to convince him to bend the knee. Gods, she'd ride all the way to the Riverlands to beat him over the head until he bent the knee. Getting Stannis to sit quiet and listen while they advocated for an alliance with Robb Stark was a miracle in itself.

As though to tip Stannis over the edge, Davos continued, "It could change the tide of the battle for us."

Stannis hummed. "Indeed." He was quiet for another moment, finger tapping a steady rhythm against the hard table. "I shall think on it. What else?"

"Your Grace, if I may," Joanna began. Stannis looked up at her, attention piqued. She hesitated; what she was about to ask would surely not be well met by Stannis - even less so than the suggestion of a Stark alliance. "My brother Tommen, and my sister Myrcella, are innocent in all of this. I understand that what they come from is - an abomination. But they are not guilty for the sins of our mother. They deserve mercy. They pose you no threat."

"Keeping the Stark girl alive could gain me an army," Stannis said. "Your bastard brother and sister's lives have no such reward."
She swallowed thickly, head shaking almost imperceptibly. Their lives needed no reward, not to her.

"Tywin Lannister won't trade the Stark girl for his favorite son. He certainly will not bargain anything for his grandchildrens' lives," Stannis continued. "I do not intend to spare any Lannister in the city."

She clenched and unclenched her hands, molars grinding together, attempting to calm herself before she spoke again.

"When my grandfather sacked the city, and had the Mountain bash the Targaryen babies' heads against the wall, that reputation tainted him for the rest of his life," she said, voice tight. "It inspired fear, yes, but hatred and mistrust, too."

"The Targaryen children would have grown into direct threats against you and all of us, just as Daenerys Targaryen threatens us even from across the Narrow Sea," said Stannis in a hard voice.

"My brother and sister do not have the claim the Targaryen children had. They are bastards - Lannister bastards, which will mean nothing when my grandfather is dead. Show that you are a better man than Tywin Lannister and spare the innocent children."

Stannis let out a long breath, jaw clenched. He looked up at her darkly.

"I understand you love your siblings. I loved my brothers. But just as Renly died to ensure the safety and prosperity of our House, so must your brother and sister."

"Then you did not love your siblings the way that I love mine," she spat. "Leave me here in Storm's End when you set sail."

She turned, throwing open the door and storming away before she could hear it slam shut behind her.

Joanna took out her anger and frustration on Maric with a ferocity. He held up his sword defensively, stepping backwards as she wailed on his sword. She grunted with each downswing, but the burn in her arms and the cool ocean breeze on her face felt good. Every impact of her sword on his left her hands feeling numb, the vibrations from each crash reverberating through her bones. She wanted to feel everything and nothing. She wanted Stannis's face to be where Maric's practice sword was.

Finally, with a shout, she brought the sword down with all her might, giving into the resistance of the clashing swords and letting it slip out of her hands and clatter uselessly on the ground. She doubled over, hands on her knees, panting. Maric frowned, setting his sword aside and shaking out his arms.

"Feel better?" he asked. She stood upright, brushing some loose hair away from her face.

"A little." She crossed the balcony to the waterskin resting on the stone balustrade to take a long swig. Maric watched after her quietly. "I don't know who I'm more angry at," she admitted. "Stannis won't hesitate to kill them, but me? I got Stannis to reconsider an alliance with Robb Stark and I can't convince him not to hurt them. I'm their big sister, I'm supposed to protect them."

Maric sidled up beside her, dropping down to sit with his back resting against the balustrade. Joanna sat as well, slumping down.

"You can't blame yourself," he said soothingly. "I know that you feel like you're supposed to protect them - I want to protect my brothers, too. But it's not your job. Your parents are meant to protect them."

"Our parents didn't protect us," she said quietly. "They let Joffrey terrorize us as he pleased. I would let them come into my chambers and pull the chair in front of the doors so he couldn't come in." She sniffled, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek. "Now I'm the only one who can protect them from Stannis."

He lifted an arm, placing it over her shoulders comfortingly, and she leaned into his side.

"I will be there during the battle," he said. "And if I see them, I promise you I won't let anyone hurt them. I'll protect them as if they were my own brother and sister."

She looked up at him, unsure. "You would do that?"

"As a personal favor to you, Princess."

"You're already doing me one personal favor," she said with a small huff, stretching out a leg to gently nudge the discarded practice sword with her foot.

"What's one more?" He shrugged. She smiled, slipping out from beneath his arm to reach for the practice sword and pull it back towards her.

"I would knight you, Maric, if you did that," she said, fiddling with the leather grip on the sword.

"Can you do that?" he asked. She chuckled, reaching over to punch him gently on the shoulder.

"Shut up." She stood reluctantly; the time spent sitting and letting her muscles relax made her feel weak. After leaving the meeting with Stannis and the others, she'd stormed to her room, tearing off her gown and haphazardly pulling on the loose trousers that she wore to practice swordplay. Maric had been stunned when she'd found him, thrusting a practice sword in his hand and informing him shortly that he would be going to train her, now. They were here, and she was dressed - she might as well continue with a proper lesson. He stood up beside her, handing her the sword she'd left laying on the ground.

"Taking a break?" came a soft voice from the side. Joanna turned and found a woman she didn't know; she was about Catelyn Stark's age, with greying hair and a kind face.

"Mother!"

Maric hurried forward, completely enveloping his mother in a hug. When he released her, he turned to Joanna with a wide grin on his face.

"Princess Joanna," he said. "This is my mother, Marya Seaworth."

"Hello," Joanna greated with a smile. "So you're the wife that I hear Ser Davos speak of so often."

"I am," she said bashfully, still holding onto her son tightly. "I brought my younger boys to come and see their father and brothers. I'm so proud of my husband for helping King Stannis - and now my son, for teaching the princess."

"You have a family to be proud of, indeed."

"You fight with much power, Princess," came another voice, deep and velvety and setting Joanna's teeth on edge. "The blood of the king in strong in you."

Melisandre stepped out onto the balcony, enigmatic as ever. She had spoken very little while Joanna was meeting with Stannis and Davos, which Joanna had appreciated.

"Had you been born a boy, you could have been a great knight," Melisandre continued. Joanna rose an eyebrow.

"If I'd been born a boy, I wouldn't be a knight. I'd be the King." She leaned against the practice sword. "But here we are."

"Indeed," Melisandre agreed smoothly. "Brought together by the Lord of Light to serve our true king." She turned to Marya now. "Your sons are true and honest believers."

Marya smiled softly, if not uncomfortably. "Matthos says his reading is so much better since he's started to read the holy texts. King Stannis has given our family many blessings."

"And the blessings will grow, when he takes his true throne," Melisandre said. She turned to Joanna again. "King's blood is your blessing, and you use it well. Renly had King's blood, and look at the fortune it has brought us."

She turned away before she could see Joanna frown and narrow her eyes, leaving the three on the balcony.

"She's gone," said Marya softly, when the door had closed behind Melisandre. "A blessing if I've ever known one."

Joanna couldn't hold in her snort of laughter. The three of them laughed to themselves for a moment, before Maric picked up his practice sword once more, and motioned for Joanna to do the same.

"Sit, Mother," he bade Marya. "Watch a while. Your son is going to spill some king's blood."

Grinning, eyebrow raised at the challenge, Joanna put herself in the form that Maric had taught her, worries and fears forgotten for now.

A/N: Hi! It didn't take me 8 months to post this time lol. I'm gonna try and stick with longer chapters so the story can get moving. I know I said that if I have to, I'll still be writing this story 10 years from now, but I'm really gonna try my best to not draw it out that long.

I'm gonna be completely honest and say that I don't always know what to do with Melisandre. I want to try and avoid having her only appearances being her showing up to say cryptic shit for no reason but if that's what she does sometimes then that's just what she does. We'll be seeing more substantial stuff from her in the future. Also in case anyone is wondering, Desmera is there too I just didn't have anything for her to do this chapter. She'll be back next chapter.

We've got some new characters! That's fun :) Lemme know what you think. For the record, these are characters created by GRRM, I'm just giving them more to do than he did.

Huuuge thanks to FigurativelyDying, RHatch89, xenocanaan, annavale23, recey2010, FoAteAZombie, SlytherinQueen86, and KirikaAndo for the reviews! I really appreciate seeing your comments and reactions, it's so heartwarming and motivating. Also thanks to everyone who has added this story to their faves and follows :) Having people still interested and reading, even after all my dilly-dallying, really means the world to me. Seeing that people binge read my story all night like seriously makes me want to weep with joy because I do the same thing all the time, and I'm so happy I can provide that experience to someone! :')

Anyways, when I posted the last update, the world had just barely started going crazy, and the world has continued to get even crazier since then. I hope everyone is staying safe. Stay home as much as you can, and wear a mask when you do go out. This site is understandably not super friendly to outside links, but I urge everyone to protest and donate where possible. Black lives matter. I don't have much of a platform here but just for the record, everyone - no matter their race, ethnicity, skin color, gender identity, sexual orientation, or physical ability - deserves love and respect and dignity. You are loved and respected here with me.

Stay healthy and safe. Be excellent to each other.

I'm gonna try to do that and also write at the same time.

Until next time!

Rex