The Old Lioness

Joanna Lannister woke up to find her pillow was wet- as though she had been crying throughout the night. But it had been a horrible dream. Myrcella, her oldest grandchild, had been lost in the dark, desperately calling out for her children, searching for them, with a raw pain in her voice. And it had broken her heart.

What kind of cruel god would have put her in a hell like that? Joanna wondered as she sat up. What ever did Myrcella do to deserve a fate like that? To be butchered so young. To have her children suffer such a fate as well. Why can she not be granted rest at least, in the Mother's Heaven above?

When she looked out the window, she could see it was still nighttime. And she still wore the black mourning gown that she remembered trying to fall asleep in. As the realization that the night before had not just been a nightmare began to set in, Joanna started to feel a new wave of tears streaming down her face. This war is cruelty.

A part of her was glad that Tywin wasn't home. She imagined his best attempts at comfort would simply be the promise of an attack against the Iron Isles and swearing vengeance- just as soon as he had wrapped up his wars with Myrcella's husband and Robert's younger brothers. The worse thought was how everyone else would grieve though. Cersei, the Young Wolf, her little siblings; none of them could afford to show whatever grief they felt. Her heart broke for all of them.

Joanna gave up hope of sleep for the rest of the night, deciding to make her way to the castle sept instead. She put on some slippers, got a cloak, then started her descent.

When she was young, the size of Casterly Rock had not been a problem. But she was older now, and not as spry as she used to be. It didn't surprise her that Lord Tytos had died when his heart gave out while climbing the stairs of the castle. Truth be told, Joanna was certain that would be how she died too. It amazed her there weren't more Lannisters who had died in a similar fashion.

The cool air that she was exposed to while walking through the castle caused her to shiver and form goosebumps on her skin. It was half a year prior that they had gotten the letter from the Citadel carried by a white raven, declaring the start of autumn, and Joanna could feel it now. As much as she hoped to see another spring, she wasn't sure that she would, not if the fall and winter proved to be as long as this summer had been. But she was at peace with that now. She would get to see her mother again, and Rhaella and Loreza too, and her recently departed sweet dolt of a brother, Stafford, and all the rest who she had lost already. Yesterday, she had become certain that she had lived long enough. Death did not frighten her as it once had. In fact, she wasn't sure that she wanted to run from it if it came to her- it was not like she was a stranger with death. On the day that she gave birth to Tyrion, Joanna had nearly perished. In fact, years later, the maester had told her that it was a miracle she had managed to survive- though in the more immediate aftermath, she had simply been told that another pregnancy was likely to kill her.

For the first time in the more than sixty years she had lived, Joanna felt a true sense of bitterness as she walked into the sept- even greater when she had caught wind of what Tywin's men had done to Loreza's daughter and grandchildren.

She knelt between the altars of the Mother and the Father. When she was a girl, she had been taught that each of the Seven were just one aspect of a singular god, which was why she personally had made a habit of praying to more than one god at a time. "Oh great Father above, I know that you will judge each of our souls justly, but I believe that you have made a mistake," she said, aloud. Were it not the middle of the night, she probably would not have spoken so frankly, yet she had the chance to now. "She did not deserve that cold, dark hell she was set in. Send the Stranger to guide her from it, please. Let her suffering be at its end. And, oh, great Mother, if you could help her… that would be splendid."

There was no audible response, naturally. But Joanna decided to keep praying anyway.

"If you could show mercy to the Young Wolf as well… her widower. Father, I know you judge us all justly, and we both know that his cause is true. I pray to the Warrior that his sword remains true, and that the Crone gives him wisdom. I pray you spare my children, for their foolishness, but do not take that out upon those who have no choice but to fight the wars they have created. Save as many of them as you can, please." She sighed for a moment. "I beseech you to show mercy to my daughter too… let Cersei get the chance to grieve. This war has already taken one child from her, please do not let it take another."

Joanna might have continued, but the thought of the Young Wolf kept nagging at her. Against her husband, Robb Stark would fall eventually. He'd won victory after victory, capturing Jaime even, but Tywin Lannister was not a foe that would be beaten. She felt a deep amount of pity for the young man. No doubt his father was executed for uncovering the madness of my golden twins. Now he is trapped in a war against my husband. He's lost his home, his brothers, his friend, his children… and his darling wife. She would have been a wonderful queen next to him, that right woman to have at his side. Better than her mother for a certainty. Oh how cruel you are to take such a sweetness from a man's life.

There had been a time when Joanna Lannister had held contempt for her granddaughter's betrothed. When they had gotten word of him fathering a daughter on one of his mother's ladies-in-waiting, Joanna had been in agreement with Cersei that it was wisest for Myrcella to come home and for a new marriage to be made for her- even while Tywin was quick to point out the benefits such a union would have for the Iron Throne… and for House Lannister. But Myrcella's letters had made it clear how much she had loved her betrothed, how that love seemed to be greater than it ever had been before. Joanna was still skeptical, even as her daughter wrote, yet as the years went by and Robb Stark stayed true to Myrcella, her opinion had softened. Even if it hadn't, Joanna never felt that he deserved this.

Is this the punishment my family must endure? She wondered. Is this divine punishment for what my husband did to the Reynes and Tarbecks all those years ago? For what happened to sweet Elia and her Rhaenys and Aegon? For my failure to prevent Cersei and Jaime from their unholy coupling? For Lord Eddard's death? Or did Robb Stark do something else entirely to offend you?

Joanna decided she didn't want to know what this was all about. She just wanted it to stop. Let all of this end. What greater price is there to pay?

Several hours later, when the first cracks of sunlight began to pour in through the glass-domed sept, she noticed that she was in fact still tired, though it seemed the window for sleep had passed. Instead she returned to her bedchambers and put on a proper mourning gown, rather than a black nightgown as she had been wearing, and got ready for breakfast.

There came a soft knock on the door as she was finally resolving not to wear any jewelry today. Joy is here for her morning duties of course.

"Come in, Joy," Joanna called.

The door opened slowly, and the bastard daughter of her youngest good-brother stepped in. For years, the girl had lived in King's Landing among the royal family, serving as her granddaughter, Rosamund's, bedmaid and companion, though after the girl's mother, Briony, had been taken by an illness, Joy had returned to the Rock. Ever since, Joanna herself had taken on a maternal role for Joy, particularly as the war began.

"I had this dream last night," the fourteen year old girl said, as she closed the door behind her. Then she began to speak in a hushed voice. "I… saw my father."

"Your father?" Joanna said. Gerion Lannister had gone east to explore the Ruins of Valyria years prior, and truth be told, Joanna had never believed he would return, even when he initially announced his expedition to find their family's lost ancestral blade, Brightroar. Though with Joy, it was always a sensitive subject, and even Tywin danced carefully around the blunt truth for her sake. "Go on, tell me about it."

"We were far away… he was sitting on this… throne," she said with a hushed voice still. "He had a hood on… but I knew… I knew it was him. This lady was asking him to do a job for her… to steal something… deliver it to another."

"Hmmm," Joanna said. "Do you think this was more than just an ordinary dream?"

"I don't know," Joy said, bringing her voice back to a regular level now. "But when I woke up… something felt odd… like… he's close. I want him to come to me…"

Joanna could already sense the crying coming. The death of her mother had been hard on Joy, leaving her orphaned, and despite all that Joanna, Kevan, Tywin and others had done, they couldn't change that fact. "Do you feel him now?" she wondered.

"No," Joy said, shaking her head. A tear was now glistening at the edge of her eye. "He… went back to wherever he was without me. And… I wish he would just…" the girl stopped suddenly. "Oh it's stupid… you lost a granddaughter, and I'm…"

"It's not stupid, at all, Joy," Joanna said, softly, inviting the girl to sit in her lap. "My feelings don't invalidate yours, and yours don't invalidate mine, Joy. Just because we're sad about different things doesn't mean we can't be sad. Daven, and Myrielle are still mourning their father. I mourn for my grandchildren. And you mourn for your mother and father."

Joy crossed her arms. "Myrcella was my cousin too…" she said, like she was frustrated with herself. "But… I only feel bad about Rosa."

Joanna ran her hands through the girl's golden blond hair. The resemblance that she, Myrcella and Rosamund all shared with each other had been startling at times, and Joy and Rosamund particularly had even been capable of passing for each other in short stints, as Jaime and Cersei sometimes did when they were little. But right now it was clear she needed a bath and a comb. "Do you feel sad on Rosa's behalf? You're sad that she lost her big sister?"

"No," the girl admitted. "I was sad because… well I heard she got married and I couldn't be there. And they shipped her away to another kingdom…"

"Are you scared you won't be able to see Rosamund again?" Joanna wondered.

"Yes… yes," Joy said with a vigorous nod. "I won't get to see her in Dorne…"

The fear might not be unfounded, she nearly said. Truth be told, Joanna was very much worried about the reception that Rosamund might get in Sunspear, even as the wife of one of their princes. The days of her friendship with Princess Loreza as a young maiden at court were long past. Tywin had dealt them insults with the suggestion of marrying Tyrion to Princess Elia, felt scorned that the princess got married to Prince Rhaegar instead of their own Cersei, and later it had been his men that had killed Elia and her children. As important as Sunspear could potentially prove to be in this war, there was a part of her that did not want to risk Rosamund like that, especially now that Myrcella was dead. But what was done was done, and the younger of Cersei's daughters was on her way to Dorne even now, for better or for worse.

"When the war is done… perhaps we can take a trip there," Joanna suggested. "We'll go together, how about? We can give her a late wedding gift, get to meet her family… doesn't that sound splendid?"

Joy cheered up a little bit. "It does," she said. "But… do you really think that we'll win the war?"

We might not, she almost said. Some of the pieces were falling into place in their favor, the Ironborn had launched an invasion of the North, turning against the Starks, the Vale continued to be neutral, Tywin was marching west even now, and with Renly dead, it seemed his supporters were divided between Stannis and loyalty to their fallen king. Even winning Sunspear to their cause though still didn't inspire full confidence in her. "Truth be told, I don't think it will matter. Not for us, anyway."

Her niece was confused now. "Why's that?"

"Well… we both know how strong Casterly Rock is," Joanna said. "Even if our family loses the war, we won't be in any danger. And Sunspear… oh, I suppose things could become tricky if the war turns against us, but… we might be able to sail there. It certainly won't be in danger from a land invasion." Gods help Rosamund if the war stops going in our favor. She knew Stannis Baratheon was Robert's rightful heir, but she also knew the danger her family was in if he truly ruled as King of Westeros. If his sails arrive on the horizon for Prince Doran to see, will he fight? Or will he hand Rosamund over, and leave her to the fate Stannis intends for her? If the war turned against them, it might be they would need to collect Rosamund and take her back to Casterly Rock… or into exile.

There was another danger too. House Redwyne. Cersei had Lord Paxter's twin sons in King's Landing, making them effectively hostages, removing one one of the most powerful houses of the Reach from the field entirely. At Joanna's suggestion, Stafford had written to Lord Paxter about a potential marriage between his son, Daven, and Lord Paxter's daughter, Desmera, though after the Battle of Oxcross and Stafford's death, it was her who had to write the letters, rather than Stafford, which had resulted in the negotiations falling apart. Tywin said that he would begin looking for a bride elsewhere, and that he would take over the search for Daven's bride now, though Joanna couldn't help but worry that the failed negotiation with the Redwynes could have more lasting consequences for their family. If they were intercepted as they sailed past the Arbor, Lord Paxter might just make use of them as hostages to secure the release of his sons, and feel assured in joining the war on the side of their enemies.

"Would you prefer to bathe before or after breakfast, Joy?" Joanna asked, deciding to take her mind off of the war for now. Her own tummy was beginning to rumble, but she wanted to let the girl make a decision.

"I want to eat now," the girl said, seemingly ashamed by her choice.

"Me too," Joanna said to make her feel better about the decision. Plus, it wouldn't take as long either, since the servants could fetch water for Joy's bath while they were eating breakfast.

Joanna felt almost exhausted by the time they made it to the Central Hall. Unlike most castles, Casterly Rock didn't have a great hall, since most buildings were built into the rock itself. Instead, they had a Central Hall, the largest and grandest of the four halls that could be found within the castle, which was for the Lannisters and the foremost members of the household to eat at, and where they held feasts.

"My ladies," Maester Creylen said as they walked into the hall, with a bow of his head. He had already given Joanna his condolences the night before, so he did not repeat himself now. "Did you sleep well, my lady?"

"No," she said softly. By rights, she should have been soothing Cersei to sleep last night, offering her condolences to Joffrey, Rosamund and Tommen, and preparing for a funeral. But there wouldn't be a funeral, at least not one that she would be welcome at, and her family was on the other side of the continent. Instead, she had the bitter memory of the night before Tywin set out, when she had implored him to find a peaceful way of dealing with the Starks if it was possible.

At the table, she saw that most of the family was up. Her older brother and the castellan of the castle, Damon, was with his wife, Lady Ella, joined by Ser Damion, their only son, his wife, Lady Shiera Crakehall, and their two grandchildren, Ser Lucion and Lanna. Her older sister, Lynora, sat nearby, quietly reading from The Seven-Pointed Star, as was fitting for a septa like her. Her younger sister, Margot, and her daughter, Lenora, who had come to Casterly Rock just before the war broke out and chose to stay since then, were sitting together, still grieving for Margot's older son, Ser Tytos- who had been apparently slain at Bitterbridge after Renly Baratheon's death. The three Brax boys and their mother, Lady Moyra Frey, were there too, being the only grandsons of Joanna's youngest sister, Maleah, who'd died giving birth to the boys' father, Ser Flement Brax. Joanna also spotted her good-sister, Genna, and Ser Emmon, who were sitting together with their sons and grandsons who were present, and Stafford's daughter, Myrielle was sitting with her husband, Ser Jennir Clave. Lady Dorna Swyft was sitting with her young daughter Janei, too. There could have been more as well. None of Joanna's own children or grandchildren were present, nor were Margot's husband, Lord Titus, or their second son, Ser Gerold. While her youngest brother, Erwin, had been dead for years, her next youngest brother, Rolland, who had inherited a seat called Coldmoat and taken the name Webber from one of their grandmothers had taken a daughter of Lord Rowan to wife recently, and now had a son named Cerion who Joanna had yet to meet. Myrielle was pregnant with her first child, which she swore would be a son, and who Ser Jennir had now promised to name Stafford in honor of her father. The only one who was there that didn't seem to be connected to the family by marriage were the maester and Ser Benedict Broom, the master-at-arms for the castle, and Joanna figured it was only a matter of time before they figured out a way to tie them into their family as well.

Yet, even despite that, there was an unexpected visitor in their midst.

"Daven," Joanna exclaimed, from across the room. "You're here?"

"I am," her nephew said, "my lady, we heard about… I was sorry to hear what happened in the North."

You don't have to lie, Daven. "You've grown a beard…"

"I swore not to shave until my father was avenged," he said. "When I run my sword through Rickard Karstark's belly… I suppose that's not what you want to hear, is it, aunty?"

"No," she agreed. "You've come because of the war, haven't you?"

"I have."

"Well… let us eat breakfast first," Joanna said.

Unfortunately, enjoying breakfast proved to be impossible. Whether the food simply didn't taste good, or she just couldn't enjoy anything with how raw her grief was, Joanna just couldn't bring herself to feel satisfied. Genna had made for good company throughout the war, always finding a way to make Joanna crack even a slight smile, but that was before last night. It was a gloomy mood all around though. Everyone grieved for someone. And now it seemed that peace with the Young Wolf had moved from an unlikely outcome into an impossibility.

Joy at least managed to eat plenty, and rescued Joanna from the grim breakfast- the most grim that Joanna had faced since they had gotten word that Tyrion had been captured by Catelyn Tully in the Riverlands; if even that could compare. "We should go bathe now, aunty," the girl said.

Another long ascension later left Joanna feeling almost completely done for the day that had only just begun. Yet, a task in need of completion was a good way to keep her going, especially when it was one as simple as bathing.

For all she had heard about how beautiful Cersei's two daughters, Princess Myrcella and Princess Rosamund were, Joy was blossoming into a great beauty in her own right- the most beautiful woman at Casterly Rock, Joanna felt confident in saying. Myrielle, Lanna and Lenora were all pretty, but not anything extraordinary, Lady Moyra Frey, Lady Jeyne Darry and Lady Melesa Crakehall were nothing beyond average, and the rest of them were older women whose best years were already past them. Meanwhile Joy was everything that could be hoped for in a young woman; slim, pretty, poised, and with hair that looked like it was spun with gold, that could look beautiful whether it was curled or straightened.

"Daven seemed unhappy," Joy said, as Joanna was washing her hair.

"He was unhappy," Joanna confirmed.

"You don't think he's sad about Myrcella, is he?" Joy wondered. "Or is he still just sad about his father?"

"Oh… it's a little more than that, Joy," she said. "Men like Daven- what they want more than anything is revenge. He can't content himself with simply dealing with his grief as we have to, he needs to avenge his father."

"Who the Young Wolf killed?"

"Well… it's more complicated than that. The Young Wolf led the attack on Oxcross where Daven's father was killed, but didn't personally slay him. It was a man named Rickard Karstark who did that." Truth be told, Stafford was to blame for the disaster at Oxcross, but few of them were willing to admit it. "Your cousin swore to avenge his father, which I'm sure means killing both Karstark and the Young Wolf, though this… it's a poor form of revenge, truth be told. The Young Wolf's brothers and children and Myrcella had nothing to do with whatever we might want revenge against him for. Expressing pity for a man you loathe is a difficult thing."

"Oh," Joy said, as Joanna continued to wash her hair. "Well… why are we even fighting, aunty? I asked Maester Creylen a little while ago, but he didn't tell me anything…"

Joanna sighed. "It would take ages for me to explain everything, dear." And involve the revealing of some truths that would get your beautiful head lopped off if you were found to be sharing them with others.

"I want to know," Joy replied. "I'm old enough to understand. Maester Creylen's told me about other wars, Robert's Rebellion, the Blackfyre Rebellions, King Aegon's Conquest. Why can't I know about this one?"

"Well part of it is that the war is still going on," Joanna replied, "we don't know everything that's going on- just bits and pieces. I don't have the diaries of all the kings to pour through and read so that we can understand the war."

"But why are we fighting? I know we can't know everything about the war, I just want to know why."

"Well," Joanna began to say, "some of it is that there are old wounds left from previous wars. Balon Greyjoy is still resentful over the defeat in his last war, and still wants to have a crown on his head, so he invaded the North, to get revenge against the Starks, who were at least one of the houses who helped bring about his downfall. Others, like those in the Reach and Dorne fought for the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion and still hold grudges over that." She sighed again. "You probably want to know why there are five different kings though, don't you?"

"Yes," Joy said with a nod. "Why are they all against Joffrey?"

"Our family's feud with the Starks goes back to Robert's Rebellion. My husband has always had a knack for rubbing some the wrong way and well… let's just say he particularly rubbed Lord Eddard Stark the wrong way. Lord Eddard and King Robert even had a falling out over it, since Lord Stark was furious that the King wouldn't punish our family for crimes that had been committed- like sending Jaime to the Night's Watch for killing the Mad King, and the deaths of Prince Rhaegar's wife and children." Joanna sighed. "That was part of the hope we had when your cousin was betrothed to Stark's heir- that it could help mend the relationship between our families, but… it didn't. Not at all."

"So we had Lord Eddard killed because of that?"

"Possibly." Joanna suspected that both Lord Arryn and Lord Stark had been sniffing around the paternity of Cersei's children at the time of their respective demises, and that Lord Stark had tried to take control of the city for Stannis in light of Robert's death. She wouldn't blame Lord Eddard for being furious with Cersei over it either, knowing his son and heir was married to a bastard born of incest, even one as sweet and lovely as Myrcella was. Though that still didn't quite explain his wife arresting Tyrion on the Kingsroad or Lord Eddard's sentencing of Ser Gregor Clegane to death and ordering Tywin to appear in King's Landing for a trial of his crimes. She decided to just continue. "Stannis suspects that Cersei's children aren't actually King Robert's issue, but bastards."

Joy was aghast. "Truly?"

"Oh yes." And the worst part is that it is absolutely true. "Stannis believes that Myrcella, Joffrey, Rosamund and Tommen are bastards, and that fact makes him the true heir of King Robert."

The girl made a face. "Well… then he's probably just saying that, isn't he? A lie to justify him usurping the throne?"

"There is proof… Cersei's children don't look anything at all like the King, as you know, and Cersei and Robert were never particularly fond of each other. The Baratheon look is a rather hard one to wash away too, and there's proof of that in the King's bastards." Joanna was now combing Joy's hair. "It might be that Stannis truly believes this, or it might be that this is all just a story he concocted to justify his claim to the throne."

"What about Renly Baratheon?"

Now there is an enigma. According to Cersei, the King's youngest brother had been scheming to bring Lady Margaery Tyrell to court, and ultimately position the girl as being a new queen, once Cersei herself was out of the way. Now that Renly was dead though, Joanna wasn't sure exactly how they would be able to find out what exactly the Lord of Storm's End had been plotting, or why he had chosen to crown himself king. "It might be that he believed the same story that Stannis did, though it's hard to see how that would make him king over his older brother," she said. "It might also just be that he and his close circle were overly ambitious and sought to take the crown for themselves, without any true claim or pretext."

"But why would they rebel against the King?" Joy asked. "Joff was chosen by the gods to rule…"

"The same reason why men desire to marry their daughters to a king, and why knights aspire to win lands and seats for themselves. They all want power for themselves," she said. "If the gods truly do put us in the places that we are in and choose some of us to rule and others of us to be ruled, then there are some of us who simply cannot be content with the roles that we are given." She decided to put it in more understandable terms. "Do you like the fact that you are a bastard, Joy?"

The girl frowned. "Well I…" she stopped.

"There's no shame in that, Joy," Joanna said. "Being a bastard leaves you at a disadvantage. You can't inherit lands, you're less desirable as a marriage candidate, people look at you funny… all because your mother and father weren't married, isn't that so?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever wished to be a princess, or at the very least, a great noble lady?"

Joy gave a small nod.

"We all get that sometimes, Joy. Part of why I wished to marry Ty was because it would make me the Lady of Casterly Rock. We all want things we don't have… it's just that we sometimes go to extreme lengths to take them."

"Like Lord Renly did… so the gods struck him down?"

"Yes," Joanna agreed. "But there's nothing wrong about wishing that you could wake up as Princess Joy Baratheon, the daughter of King Robert Baratheon and Queen Cersei Lannister."

Joy was quiet for the rest of the bath, as Joanna finished combing the girl's hair and scrubbing her skin. After that, she helped the girl get dressed and sent her about her lessons. Just when Joanna was about to take a nap, a knock came on her door.

"My lady," Daven Lannister said to greet her as she opened the door. "We're holding a war council."

Joanna was struck by how odd him calling her my lady was. Daven, like most of her nieces and nephews would call her aunty, though sometimes the older ones, like Daven, would call her my lady when in more formal circumstances. The fact that he is speaking like this and even telling me only means one thing. "You want me to join you?"

"I figured you would prefer that I asked," he said. "You are the lady of the castle."

She didn't feel quite suited for a war council right now. But at the same time though, Joanna also did want to know what was happening. Perhaps there is some way I can try to prevent another major tragedy, no matter how small my voice is.

When the two of them arrived at the location of the meeting, they made it an even dozen who were attending the meeting, which she figured meant they were the last ones to arrive. The location of the meeting was her husband's solar, the most suitable place for a council like this one, with a map already strewn across the table.

Joanna and her nephew stood by Lord Tywin's seat, which was the closest thing to a place of honor, she imagined. Admittedly though, she didn't feel it was entirely deserved. Terrance Kenning and Garrison Prester were present, the Lord of Kayce and Feastfires, respectively, as well as her older brother, Ser Damon, who was the castellan. Joining them was Maester Creylen, Ser Damon's son, Ser Damion, Genna's blubbery husband, Ser Emmon Frey, and their second son, Ser Lyonel Frey, Ser Benedict Broom, Ser Jennir Clave, and Ser Ulric Stackspear, a household knight and the captain of the guard. Normally an old woman like her had no place at a war council like this one, though she didn't feel out of place now, knowing that these were mostly men of the household or those who had chosen to remain behind when the war broke out.

"The gods are good," Lord Terrance Kenning said, as they walked in. "After what happened at Oxcross, I feared the worst for you, ser."

"Thank you, my lord," Ser Daven said, with a slightly confused expression. Daven had been at Lannisport for most of the war, and hadn't been at Oxcross at all.

"My lady, ser," Maester Creylen said, bowing his head, "I believe we are all present."

I would hope so. The only knight who she could think of off the top of her head that was at the castle and absent was Ser Lucion, Ser Damion's boy. "Then let us begin," she said.

Ser Daven took the lead. "At Lannisport, I've been raising the remnants of my father's host," he said, "and are working to raise additional levies from there as well, even if they are sparse."

"How many men do you have, ser?" Lord Garrison asked.

"Almost three thousand," the younger knight replied. "When we march, some will be left behind to guard the city, so that it's not just on the city watch to guard Lannisport, but with Ser Forley's men, we might have as many as five thousand combined."

Ser Lyonel Frey had an optimistic look on his face. "Lord Tywin is marching west too, isn't he?"

"He is," Maester Creylen concurred.

Genna's husband spoke up. "We must attack at once!" Ser Emmon said, with a grand raising of his finger. "Stark sits idly at the Crag. If we strike before Lord Tywin gets here…"

"We risk defeat," Ser Daven said, with a more level head. "Ser Forley and I are still coordinating our movements, but we aim to take position before Lord Tywin gets here," he said, leaning over the table. "We might have numbers similar to his, but his men are battle hardened and tested. They've won battle after battle, while mine were green boys and trainees that survived the slaughter at Oxcross."

Maester Creylen cleared his throat. "I received a letter from Maester Aron, of the Crag, this morning. He says the Young Wolf has taken a new wife."

Joanna felt herself suddenly sucking in a breath. "Who?" How can Robb Stark have taken such little time to grieve? It was more than just the fact that his wife was dead, his children and two younger brothers had died along with her, leaving him with a dire situation for an heir, so remarrying was a political necessity, but if what she had heard was true…

"Jeyne Westerling, Lord Gawen's older daughter," the maester said. "According to the letter, the girl had been nursing the Young Wolf for weeks after he had taken a wound storming the castle. The night they got word of his family's demise, she comforted him, and the next day, he married her to preserve her honor."

She felt dizzy now. Had he been sleeping with a captured woman before he found out Myrcella was dead? Myrcella said that he was honorable and always faithful to her, that what had happened with that girl, Elinor, was just a one-time incident where there had been too much to drink.

When she took a more measured approach to it though, it started to make sense. Stark had likely gotten Stannis' letter, declaring the truth about her twins' incestuous union, and the parentage of Cersei's children. If he felt repulsed by the thought of what that made his wife, she couldn't blame him, especially not when he also had to deal with the distance the war had put between them. Perhaps he had been lonely all along, she rationalized, the girl, Jeyne, was just a bedwarmer comforting a lonely young man, who was far away from everything he held dear.

"Gawen's girl married the Young Wolf?" Ser Daven said, with an angry look on his face. "Damn it, he'll…"

"Lord Gawen was one of the lords captured by Stark when he broke Ser Jaime's Siege of Riverrun," Maester Creylen interjected. "According to the best information we have, he is most likely in the dungeons of one of the many Riverlords as we speak, and had no say on the girl's wedding. Even if he was there, Stark holds his castle. He wouldn't have had the ability to object." He paused for a second. "No doubt this means the Westerlings and their vassals will join Stark's cause, but that doesn't mean they offer him much."

Ser Ulric looked over the map. "Stark made it west without taking the Golden Tooth, or any of the other castles along our border," he began to say, "and since Oxcross, he took Sarsfield, Nunn's Deep, Ashemark and the Crag. Perhaps a siege…"

"A siege is what Stark wants from us," Ser Daven said, still with a dark look on his face. "Stark knows that if he takes our under-defended castles, he'll lose next to nothing in the process, and he can leave a proper garrison behind that will force us to either divide our men up to deal with length sieges, or make costly assaults where we lose far more men than he will. I won't play that game with him."

Old Ser Damon took a more measured response. "Then what game will you play with him?"

Daven frowned. "We need to stop the Young Wolf from making further advancements," he said. Lord Banefort has a full garrison to the north, so he doesn't need our aid. What is more likely is that he goes for Kayce or Feastfires, taking more castles to force us to divide even. We must pin him where he is."

Ser Lyonel Frey nodded. "And when Lord Tywin arrives, we'll have the strength to march upon the Crag itself."

If my husband comes. Joanna was not certain that her husband's departure from Harrenhal necessarily meant that he would come to their aid against the Young Wolf. "It might serve us to call a truce then," she said.

"A truce?" Ser Emmon said, as all eyes began to turn towards her.

"Indeed," she said. "The perfect trap for Stark."

"Why's that, my lady?" Ser Ulric Stackspear said. "How's it a perfect trap?"

"The Young Wolf has been wounded for weeks now," she said. "He must be starting to make a full recovery, yes? Well, if that's so, he'll feel the pressure from his lords to make another move and win another battle. But he has more things that concern him too, the Ironborn attacking the North, trying to find a way to reclaim his home, mourning those who have been killed at Winterfell, and doing what little he can to celebrate his nuptials." She looked at the map. "He certainly wants something that will give him time without making him look weak in front of his lords, and we need time for my husband to arrive. It serves both of our purposes splendidly."

Ser Lyonel disagreed. "We need time to get into position, my lady, to join our forces with Ser Forley's at the Golden Tooth. If the Young Wolf has any wits to him, he'll never accept a truce knowing that Lord Tywin is making his way west."

Ser Jennir, Myrielle's husband, took up that point. "Stark must needs win another battle, in the coming days. He'll want to win more victories, take more lands and castles. Grieving or not, he must advance his position, or face destruction."

"Then what do you propose we do instead?" Joanna asked.

"We get ready," Ser Benedict Broom said, speaking up for the first time in the meeting. "We have a garrison that can hold Casterly Rock. Once Ser Forley is marching our way, and we've coordinated a spot to mass our host at, we'll block Stark, and have the most important castle and city secured." He moved some pieces around the map to help him explain. "If we get a strong defensive position, our men might not be fit to launch an assault on the Young Wolf, but we will be able to thwart his advance and prevent him from splitting his host any further than he already has. But we won't make a move against the Starks until his lordship is with us."

And may the gods help us if Storm's End should fall before then. If Stannis Baratheon took Storm's End, Joanna was certain his next target would be King's Landing. He could capture Cersei, Tyrion, Joffrey and Tommen in one go, have their heads all on spikes, and be seated atop the Iron Throne. That was the logical play, at least in Joanna's mind. If Tywin was overcommitted to dealing with Robb Stark in the west though, that would leave them completely vulnerable to an assault by Stannis. That was why she was doubtful that her husband would ever make such a blunder. "A truce is what we need," she told them. "If you cannot follow my advice… may the gods help us all."

As she walked out, Joanna felt almost enraged somehow. Why did you gods make men too stupid to ever heed the advice of women? Too blinded by their own hatred to see when peace might be a useful tool to them? She oddly didn't care to know the details of what they were planning anymore, but she knew deep down that it was likely to end in some kind of disaster.

When Tywin came, she hoped he would stop at Casterly Rock first- if he did march all the way west, that was. Even with what they had just learned about the Young Wolf taking a Westerling girl to wife, she would still plead for the young man's life. Yet if her husband didn't come at all… they were likely to be in trouble.

Author Notes:

Yay drama! Also, I had to map out all of Jason Lannister's descendants while I was writing this chapter, and honestly, I have never wanted to die more than I did as I was doing that.

Thanks for reading!