LIONS AND WOLVES | Robb Stark

09. Oxcross 𓃬

THE BATTLE OF OXCROSS SPARED JOANNA from having to answer Robb's proposal and for the first time since she fled King's Landing, she saw her share of actual fighting. Neither Robb nor Alden were particularly thrilled when Joanna announced that she would be on the field with them, but after Alayna backed her up and they argued their case, neither of them were prepared to try and stop her.

Both Robb and Alden could see the anger in Joanna's eyes as they fought in that battle, although neither of them knew the true source of her rage. Only Alayna, who guarded Joanna's blind spots like they had fought together all their lives, knew of the reason behind Joanna's fury on the battlefield. A mother's rage sparks a blaze in her children, after all.

The battle was bloody and by the time dawn broke and the sky grew lighter, the battlefield was a mess of bloodied soldiers and dead bodies. The Lannister army had been defeated by the Starks and Stafford Lannister was killed in the battle, wiping one more player off the table.

Smoke rose through the air as Joanna walked alongside Robb and Roose Bolton, surveying the damages from the night's fighting. Joanna's armour was covered in blood and she had a gash on her arm, but other than a few other scrapes and bruises, she was relatively unscathed.

She couldn't say the same for the people lying around her, groaning in pain. Some men were missing limbs, others were trying to push their own guts back inside their bodies and some were staring up at the sky, waiting for the sweet release of death.

"Five Lannisters dead for every one of ours," Roose said. "We've nowhere to keep all these prisoners and barely enough food for our own."

"We're not executing prisoners, Lord Bolton," Robb reminded him firmly.

"Of course, Your Grace," he replied. "The officers will be useful. Some of them may be privy to Tywin Lannister's plans."

"I doubt it," Joanna said. "My grandfather is very distrusting of people."

"Well, we'll learn soon enough," Roose said. "In my family we say: a naked man has few secrets, a flayed man none."

"My father outlawed flaying in the North," Robb replied.

"We're not in the North," Roose said.

"We're not torturing them," Joanna countered.

"The high road's very pretty, but you'll have a hard time marching your army down it," Roose said.

"The Lannisters hold prisoners of their own," Robb said. "I won't give them an excuse to abuse my sisters."

Joanna fell silent. Robb would undoubtedly come seeking an answer soon and Joanna was still weighing the options in her head. The Stark girls were on her mind as she considered what her answer might be.

A man's shouting caused their attention to be diverted from their conversation and Joanna saw a nurse removing a man's boot to reveal his leg, covered in blood. She then noticed Robb's eyes trained, not on the wounded soldier, but the pretty nurse.

Alayna walked up to them as Robb strayed towards the nurse and the wounded soldier. Joanna scowled at Robb's retreating figure and Alayna, who was looking between them in confusion, suddenly caught on and let out a loud laugh.

"Honestly, Jo," she said. "You really are terrible at subtlety."

"What?"

"I can practically smell the jealousy on you."

"Shut up."

Alayna rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know that Alden's looking for you. He noticed that you had a nasty cut and wanted to help."

"Since when was Alden good with medicine?" Joanna asked, bidding Roose Bolton farewell before she headed off with Alayna.

"I don't know," Alayna admitted. "But he patched me up pretty good."

Alayna had a cut above her eyebrow, which had been cleaned of dried blood, and her left arm was in a poorly-made sling. It always surprised Joanna when she saw Alayna bleed, because unlike everyone else's red blood, Alayna's was an onyx black. Joanna had no idea what that meant or why it happened, but Alayna always said that it had been in her family for generations. All of her brothers inherited the same black blood and yet nobody could find an answer for it.

Joanna saw Alden across the field tending to a wounded Stark man and headed towards him.

"Alden!" she called. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he replied, still kneeling beside the man. When Joanna got closer, he lowered his voice. "There isn't much I can do for him."

The man was dying. It would take a fool not to see it and as Joanna knelt on the man's other side, opposite Alden, she assessed the wound. A sword had caught him in the gut and from the steady flow of blood soaking the cloth Alden had already placed over the wound, she knew that this man was in his last minutes.

Taking his bloodied hand in her own, Joanna tilted the man's head towards her and their eyes locked. She offered him a small smile, brushing back his hair from his forehead, a mixture of blood and dirt and sweat making his curls sticky to the touch.

"Shh," she said soothingly. "You're alright. You're alright."

"Am I going to die?" the man asked, his voice trembling. "I don't want to die. I don't wanna die. I don't... I don't..."

Joanna had always prided herself on being able to keep her emotions in check. Part of being royalty was that you learned from a very young age how to compose yourself in front of others. She had learned from her mother, who was the very best at what she did.

"You're going to be just fine," Joanna whispered to him. "Just listen to my voice, alright? Just listen to my voice and we'll fix you right up."

Alden and Alayna were watching the interaction and not far away from them, Robb Stark was watching too. Joanna continued whispering to the man, trying to ease his passing.

"Talk to me," the man said. "Your- Your voice is- is nice."

"Um... Alright," Joanna said, clearing her throat. "My uncle used to tell me this story when I was younger. I'd find him most nights, no matter where he was, and I would crawl into his lap and beg him to tell me the story. 'Joanna, I've told you it a thousand times,' he'd tell me. 'A thousand more times won't be enough,' I'd always reply. So he'd tell me about a boy that fell in love with a girl, but he knew he could never be with her. Her father was a powerful man and he was just a squire, so they would meet in secret most days. She would always be there, until one day the girl stopped visiting. The boy didn't see her again, until the day came that he woke up and found her waiting for him, holding out her hand and welcoming him home."

"W-Where had she b-been?"

"The girl was an angel," Joanna said. "Sent to watch over the boy and protect him from harm. My uncle used to tell me that we all have an angel watching over us. When the boy took her hand, like so." Joanna squeezed the man's hand. "All of his pain went away and the boy went with the girl to a place where they could finally be together, at peace."

The man smiled up at Joanna. "I th-think I see an a-angel."

His eyes lost focus and his chest fell still. Joanna felt his hand go limp in her own and she carefully placed it down on his chest, ceasing her careful stroking of the man's hair. She had no idea whether she had helped him, but the story that her uncle always told her as a child had always brought her peace, so she could only hope to have done the same for this man.

As she sat back on her heels, Alden glanced at her. "Are you alright?"

Joanna nodded. "Be careful with his body."

"We will be," Alden promised. "Now, let me take a look at your arm."

"There are more people that need help," Joanna said. "Men with far worse injuries than mine."

"Yes, but you're a lot more valuable to the cause," Alden replied. "These men know that. It won't take a moment, alright?"

Joanna reluctantly nodded, accepting Alden's hand as she got to her feet. "Alright, fine, but make it quick."