The Second Coming Of Joanna

3. Joanna

JOANNA II

The Sept of Baelor is anything but crowded at this time of the night and so it is the perfect time for Joanna to come pay her respects. She feels the weight of her boots now as she climbs up the steps to reach the main altar in a way she only ever did whilst fighting in Balon Greyjoy's rebellion.

Except whereas she had been weighted down by fatigue then now there's something else trying to take her closer to the marble floor.

Grief.

Perhaps not as potent as the one she had felt for her lady mother but definitely sincere in its intentions. Joanna comes to a halt, the many flames telling of lost loved ones casting shadows on her solemn face. She directs her attention towards the unused candles and lights up the first one.

"Joanna Lannister."

She closes her eyes after placing the candle carefully, putting both of her hands clasped tightly forward as she glanced up at the high ceiling of the sept. It's been a long time since she had last prayed to her mother- call it the busy life of an adult or worse, the cynicism of one but Tywin hadn't wanted them to pray as children and so Joanna found herself understanding why over the years.

If they did exist, the gods had a veil over their eyes that prevented them from seeing in just how desperate need of help the people were.

If they did exist, they could not care like her mother did, could not care like Joanna herself did, could not care like the King of the Seven Kingdoms was supposed to care for both lords and commonfolk alike. If they did exist, they were far too often unkind and otherwise indisposed.

So, she had spent most of her time trying to become someone the people could rely on, so that their prayers went answered even if Joanna lacked the swiftness and grandour gods possessed.

"They work through her-!!" she had heard some of the older ones say after she had squashed bandit troops or pirates, preventing them from causing further damage. Let them think that, if it eases their soul. She had told her left hand when the latter had wanted to march over and correct them.

Joanna starts talking as she would do if her mother still lived and was right there in front of her.

"Father is fine although he wages a war the likes of which hasn't been seen for a long time, mother. The War of the Five Kings, they have taken to calling it. The rest of us do what we can to support him while maintaining our grace-" Not entirely true, it could be argued Jaime had lost his with the fall of the Mad King while Cersei never had one to begin with. Furious, spiteful thing, her older sister was, lovely but the same way vines that grappled onto a castle were lovely. The same way roses were- beautiful but ever so sharp.

"Tyrion is coming along nicely, you know? You should see him, he has Father's mind for politics and has your heart. I think being of his stature had only made him more great — Father left him as Hand of the King in his stead, he goes about it better than you'd expect but then he's never let his condition thwart his wit. You...you are dearly missed, mother, by us all. Cersei hasn't lost an inch of beauty even if she worries she doesn't look her best anymore — she's every bit the fierce mother I remember you were, that's something no one can take away from her. As for Jaime..."

Joanna swallows dryly and pauses, her hands clenching even tighter. There is no point in lying to her mother assuming she had been watching over them this entire time but even so, even so...