The Lion and the Wolf ~ Game of Thrones

2

The Wolfswood.

Joanna had been a curious child for as long as she could remember. If Aunt Genna was to be believed, the first thing Joanna had ever said was, "Why?" The earliest of her memories seemed to attest to the truth of that. Waddling about Casterly Rock while Genna or Uncle Gerion chased after her had been one of her favourite games. As she grew, her curiosity grew with her. If not for her lord father's insistence upon sheltering her in the Rock, Joanna could have been on her own ship by now, sailing as far as Ulthos if she had her way and going on all sorts of adventures.

So, when her father had finally—after eighteen years!—relented and allowed her to go on an adventure, the daughter of Tywin and Joanna Lannister had skipped through the cavernous halls of the Rock, almost breaking into song. That the Warden of the West had allowed it only to forward one of his many schemes hadn't been lost on Joanna, but she didn't care. If marrying some boy she couldn't give a rat's arse about was the price of finally leaving Casterly Rock to see even a fraction of the world, then she'd pay it a thousand times and never regret it.

And even if she would have to marry someone for this, her father was too protective of her to allow just anyone. He'd only consider the best of the best, those raised by men of high power and steadfast honour, and even then, he would let her pick the one she would marry. Stern and assertive as Lord Tywin was, he loved the final gift his wife had given him dearly. Perhaps it was because she looked so much like Lady Joanna Lannister that he was so gentle with her. It hadn't done her many favours with her siblings, except with Jaime. Tyrion loved her well; she knew that, but he hated that their father loved her and loathed him despite Joanna being the reason the man's wife had perished.

She'd only been six when Tyrion, thirteen at the time and angry about something she still didn't know about, had told her that she had killed their mother by being brought into the world. When she had sat down and cried in the hall, her brother could not have looked more frightening if he had been ten feet tall and wore a dragon's skull as a helm; he'd not stopped shouting at her even as she wept, not until Uncle Tygett found them and struck Tyrion hard with the back of his hand and rebuked him for daring to blame Joanna for that before he picked her up and carried her to her room.

She had never forgotten that, and neither had Tyrion...

"My lady, why the tears?"

Joanna was snapped from her reverie by the Bastard of Winterfell's voice, the slight rasp making her shudder as she turned away from the crackling fire to look at the silver-haired woman who had rescued her. A blush bloomed across her cheeks at being caught before she averted her gaze and rubbed her eyes. "It's the smoke," she whispered.

When her rescuer didn't reply, Joanna glanced at her and saw the achingly beautiful woman with a distant look in her deep purple eyes as she gazed into the flames like they were the most bewitching thing and ran her fingers through the direwolf's white fur as it rested its head on her thigh. A rogue thought of what it might feel like to wake up with the purple of those eyes being the first thing she saw struck Joanna suddenly, and her cheeks blazed as she lowered her eyes and tapped her fingers against the cup when Jonelle Snow snapped out of it and looked at her curiously.

"Why were you so deep in the Wolfswood?"

Embarrassed and ashamed that she'd not been able to keep from staring, Joanna took a moment to reply. "I've been locked up inside Casterly Rock since before I could remember," she admitted, furrowing her brows. "Can you fault an isolated girl for being a little adventurous?" When there was no reply from the she-wolf, Joanna lifted her eyes to look at Jonelle Snow. Green met glowing purple, and she blushed slightly, hoping Jonelle didn't notice.

"No," Jonelle said quietly. "I don't blame you."

"You don't?" Joanna smiled slightly. "Well, that's a first."