AN: To be honest, I think Cersei's pregnancy is BS, but this was stuck in my head, so here it is.

Jon's name is Aemon not Aegon for reasons. I might get into those reasons if I decide to make this a series but for now, I'll just leave it at that.

Also, this fic somehow became not just focused on the main character but also building the world post-Long Night, which kind of makes me want to continue this as a series with interconnecting parts focusing on different characters but let me not get ahead of myself as I do have other obligations.

Growing up, people always said Joanna looked like her mother. She would not truly understand what they meant for a long time.

It's her father who she can first remember uttering those words.

She must've been five at the time, and she was on one of the high meadows at their home on the isle of Tarth playing with her baby brother and sister as they enjoyed the crisp, fresh air of spring. The maesters had officially declared the change of season moons ago, but everyone was still on edge, waiting for the snows to return. Winter was meant to last longer than five years. It was predicted for a decade at least, but the winds of winter were nowhere in sight for now.

Joanna was aglow with the change in weather. All she had known was winter, and now there was spring. The twins had recently started walking, and while Maeryna liked to wander on her own, Galladon preferred to stick close to Joanna's side. She held the boy's hands, guiding him through the grass and flowers. He glanced up at her with trusting blue eyes smiling widely. Joanna smiled back at the baby and pressed a kiss to his forehead before continuing, the sapphire waves of Tarth crashing below them on the sandy shores. Maeryna suddenly gave a loud squeal. Joanna looked up as the younger girl ran towards their father, her light blonde locks blowing in the wind as she rushed as quickly as her little legs let her. Joanna smiled as well while Galladon babbled excitedly, trying to escape from her to join Maeryna to the armored man.

Father had been away for a little while, putting down a small rebellion made up of Tarth men and other Stormlanders against the crown. Baratheon loyalists and purists, she was told, who weren't happy to be under the regency of a legitimized bastard much less a Targaryen king whether he was more of a wolf than a dragon or not. There was also unrest from those not pleased to have a woman as the primary ruler of Tarth. Father had gone to Storm's End at the behest of their Lord Paramount, Lord Gendry, to aid him and his siblings, Lady Mya and Lord Edric, in ending the rebellion against House Baratheon. Though Mother was loath to stay home, Father had insisted he go without her since Mother's belly was growing with Joanna's third younger sibling. Joanna had wanted to go with her father too, but they told her she was too young.

Galladon let go of Joanna's hand and ran for a moment on unsteady legs before reaching back towards her. She smiled once more before taking the baby's hand and gently leading him to their father. Once he was two feet away, he rushed to the older man, who held Maeryna in his arms. Joanna noted that he wore his wooden hand rather than his hook. He reached down, picked Don up with his good arm, and pressed a kiss to both babies' cheek.

"What a wonderful and awful surprise to come home to: my little devils walking. I suppose I shouldn't hope that this will calm you two down at all," Jaime teased, kissing the twins once more.

Joanna laughed as the babies began to babble as if telling the man all they'd been doing while he was gone.

"I've kept them from trouble, Father," Joanna announced proudly.

She had been right beside her mother in the weeks of her father's absence, available to assist her and Septa Pia to entertain the ofttimes wild twins.

'It's my punishment for wishing for children of my own for so long. And for my own sins,' Father would say, but he would smile proudly on the three of them, his eyes shining with love, and so Joanna did not think he truly meant it. At least in the way that he did not mean half of what he said. That's what Uncle Tyrion claimed anyway.

Father placed the two one-year-olds down to toddle close by, crouching to rip up the grass and flowers. Joanna ran forward into her father's arms. She did not care that he was sweaty and smelled of salt from his journey in the Narrow Sea or that the armor was hard and uncomfortable against her cheek. She cared that she was in his arms.

"I've brought something back for you, love."

Joanna's eyes lit up.

"From Storm's End?"

"Even better, from Winterfell."

Joanna's eyes widened with interest. She had not been to the kingdom of the North since she was three when Princess Catelyn and Prince Medger were newly born. It was still winter then. It had been bitterly cold, but she had liked it. It had been home, and she hadn't wanted to leave the people she had viewed as family, especially Queen Sansa, who was not as severe and scary as stories made her out to be. Joanna watched her father remove a crown of light blue roses the color of frost from his satchel.

"Winter roses?"

She had been dazzled by them when she saw them in the North, but they only grew in Winterfell's glass gardens.

"The king and his cousin visited Storm's End during the rebellion. They had the roses with them. Lady Commander Stark passed some along to me. I crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty."

Joanna beamed brightly as her father placed the wreath on her golden head.

"I will be the Princess of Love and Beauty. Mother can be the queen," she replied, grinning up at him, her aurous locks whipping into her face from the wind. Her smile began to wane as she noticed her father's breath catch while he gazed down at her.

"What's wrong, Father?"

Jaime smiled sadly at her after a moment.

"Nothing, you just... you just reminded me of your mother for a moment."

Joanna gave him a look at that. She didn't look anything like her mother, but she didn't dwell on it.

"Have you seen her yet?"

"I came straight to you."

"We must go to her then. We can surprise her. She'll be so happy," Joanna said excitedly, ushering her family along.

Later, she would reflect that his look of disquiet was no small thing. He had looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Perhaps he had.

Uncle Tyrion's visits always held much fanfare around Tarth, the island readying itself to host the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and newly ordained Master of Foreign Affairs. Joanna thought everyone should be used to it by now, his visits being as frequent as they are.

Uncle Tyrion was making his way to them for Lionel's fourth nameday. Joanna did not think it was a singularly unique occasion to take time out of his busy schedule for. Her uncle had been working tirelessly to aid the crown in mending fractured bridges between King Aemon and less loyal and stable regions, such as Dorne and the Reach. They were still in disarray after losing their ruling houses before winter during the War of the Fire Queens as people called it. Some called it the War of the Mad Queens, but Joanna preferred the former. It had a more epic ring to it. Then there were the new Essosi kingdoms who wished for alliances with their neighbors overseas. Having taken on the newly crafted office of Master of Foreign Affairs, her uncle was a chief advisor in facilitating negotiations between the Westorosi and Essosi crowns.

All that said, she was glad that Uncle Tyrion was coming. Lionel was down and depressed lately. He had recently had the misfortune of learning the cruelty the world could inflict on someone like him. Joanna had befriended Ser Jerwyn's daughter, Eleona, a girl who was breathtakingly gorgeous even at only one and ten. Both had decided to bring their younger siblings to one of their playdates. When Eleona saw Joanna's siblings, she turned her nose up in disgust.

'I don't want my little brother and sister playing with an imp. Look at it, it's disgusting. They might catch its disease,' she had said of Lionel.

'And I thought you had a sister. They look like twin boys to me.'

Maeryna had looked ready to cry as Galladon huffed in anger and offense at the slight to his twin.

Joanna had felt sad at the heartbreak on little Lionel and Maeryna's faces. Lionel did not often get to leave Evenfall Hall since Mother and Father were still careful with him, not wanting him to be hurt in any way. He had been a sickly babe, and he was a dwarf besides, so they were cautious about what they allowed him. Father was so protective, sometimes Joanna was barred from her brother's chambers. Mother would always lecture Father about that,

'It's totally different. She's not her.'

'I know that, but sometimes I see Jo and Lionel together, and all I can see is her and Tyrion, and it terrifies me what Jo might do to him.'

Her father's strangeness with her and Lionel could only be compared to her mother's with Maeryna and Galladon. Sometimes her mother would inexplicably separate them for seemingly no reason. The twins were as close as siblings should be, Joanna didn't understand why her mother wanted them to only spend so much time together any more than she could say what her father thought she might do to her baby brother. She loved Lionel, she would always protect him. She would do what was best for Lionel and staying cooped up in Evenfall Hall was not it. He needed fresh air and companionship and laughter. Joanna thought she was giving him that when she sneaked him past the guards for him to leave the castle and meet her "friend".

As for Maeryna, the five-year-old had already known cruelty.

'Poor lass looks like her mother. Thank the gods the older one takes from her father,' people would mutter.

Truthfully, Maeryna looked like a healthy mix of both their mother and father, just as Galladon did. They had their mother's lighter blonde hair and blue eyes and were both taller than was typical for their age. Still, Maeryna's face held more features of their father's, and there was something more distinctly feminine about her in comparison to their mother. Even if there wasn't, Joanna did not care. It was her younger siblings Eleona was putting down. Anger had swiftly replaced her sadness, and before she knew it, her fist was flying towards the older girl's face. Joanna's eyes widened at her actions, and she watched silently as Eleona ran off crying, taking her brother and sister with her. Joanna had subsequently gotten a long lecture from her mother about using her fists first to solve verbal disputes (though her father seemed much less concerned about it and praised her behind her mother's back).

While Maeryna managed to rouse herself from the encounter, mostly with Galladon's constant presence by her side, Lionel was not so easily able to bounce back. He could not understand that kind of hatred because their parents shielded him from it. Joanna wished to shield him as well, but she also knew he needed to know what the world would be like to survive it. At least their uncle would be able to show him what she could not.

Uncle Tyrion's entourage arrived with the usual pomp and alarum. He sailed in on a great ship, which had the traditional Lannister sigil on most of the sails, a golden lion rearing back whilst roaring on a red field, but there were also sails with the personal coat of arms her uncle had developed with his new wife: a gold lion on a red field galloping with a golden falling star over it. The design was a compromise made of his recent marriage to Lady Allyria Dayne of Starfall during the same negotiations that saw House Martell reinstated as the ruling house of Dorne by the king after Prince Quentyn Martell popped up hiding among the Daynes from his own family. Joanna couldn't imagine wanting to kill any of her family like the Martells had, so it vexed her that other people could. Everyone said kinslayers were the lowest filth, and she agreed. Uncle Tyrion always had a rueful smile when the topic was brought up. She thought it was because his mother, her namesake, died giving birth to him. Father said that was no fault of her uncle's. Joanna believed him. Uncle Tyrion was no kinslayer.

Her uncle made jokes that made Mother scold him and pressed kisses to Joanna and Maeryna's cheek, as well as ruffling Galladon and Lionel's hair. He showered them with gifts and attention as he was wont to do, and if he went off with Lionel more often than the others, Joanna had no jealousy over it. They were connected in a way she would never be able to understand. Besides, Lionel smiled more with their uncle around.

Tyrion would eventually utter those fateful words to her on his fourth day there.

She was standing over Lionel's bed one night, reading him a story about the War of the Fire Queens, when she heard a gasp and crash behind her. She turned around to see her uncle standing in the doorway, an empty goblet at his feet on the floor. Joanna stepped closer to him with concern.

"Uncle, are you well?" She asked. After a moment, he cleared his throat and gave her a small smile.

"I am. You just looked so much like your mother, for a scary moment."

"Really?" Joanna replied doubtfully.

"You won't understand that just yet. It's not my place to explain it to you besides, sweetling," her uncle replied with a secretive smile.

Joanna rose an eyebrow, but Tyrion quickly changed the subject.

"What were you reading to my dear nephew that put him to sleep so soundly?"

"It's about the War of the Fire Queens."

Uncle Tyrion's smile turned sad and wistful.

"More of a series of skirmishes than a war, but history has a way of embellishing things."

"I like reading about it. It wasn't so long ago, a little under a decade, but it helped to shape the world as it is now. It's fascinating. You knew both Queen Cersei and Queen Daenerys."

"Cersei was my sister, in blood if no other way, and I was Daenerys' Hand for a time."

"What were they like? The maesters say they had many similarities but were different at the same time."

"That's true enough, I suppose. They were both stubborn and bullheaded and had strong convictions that they stood by no matter what. They both had a temper that could lead them to… irrational behavior. They were headstrong and driven and they knew what they wanted. They both fiercely loved their children and would die for them. There is their affinity for the use of fire, dragon fire for Daenerys and wildfire for Cersei. They clawed and scratched their way to power despite the roles society forced them into, there's no doubt of that. I admit I admired them both for that. Their journeys weren't easy, and they rose to power almost through force of will alone and strong belief in themselves. However, Daenerys had more care for others in her pinky than Cersei did in her whole body. Daenerys did not want to kill people. She didn't enjoy burning them like her father did. She put a stop to slavery in Dragon's Bay, and she wanted to break the wheel of oppression here in Westeros. She had a good heart."

"It did not save her, in the end," Joanna commented. That had been something that always bothered her, but there was a lesson in there she supposed.

"No, but she died a noble death. She helped save the realm from the Night King by killing her own dragon Viserion at the expense of her life and that of her other dragon, Drogon. That allowed the famed Nightslayer the chance to slay the Night King, ending the threat once and for all."

"Hmm," Joanna intoned, looking down. She did not see the critical look her uncle gave her.

"Would you change her heart?"

"What do you mean?" Joanna asked curiously.

"It is her caring heart and mayhaps her impulsive tendencies that killed her in the end. She could not stand to see Viserion, who was as her child, controlled by another, and she acted rashly. It saved the realm from Viserion but cost us her. King Aemon is a fair and just man, but who knows what could've been with Queen Daenerys. Would you change her heart so, in the end, she could've saved her own life?"

Joanna took a moment to think about it.

"Her actions maybe, but not her heart. From what you've said and what I've read, Queen Cersei did not have a good heart, and she died too. I'd rather have a good heart and die a heroic death than have a black heart and die a meaningless one, reviled and hated by history instead of admired."

Tyrion looked her over once more before nodding, seemingly satisfied with her answer. She had the feeling she just passed some test. She did not know if her passing was a good thing or a bad thing, and she did not want to tarry on it. More besides, she didn't like the way he stared at her, as if he wasn't seeing her but someone else. She had seen that look on passing faces and her father's. It always stirred some part of her deep down and made her resent that look.

"When will I get to meet my new aunt?" She asked, changing the topic.

"Soon. Allyria is tending to Casterly Rock at the moment."

"Tell me about her."

She managed to steer the conversation with Tyrion from then on, anywhere but to the former queens. She was sure he let her do so.

Later that night, Joanna found herself in her parents' bedroom.

She was sure to knock on the door first since Septa Pia told her she might walk into something she had no business knowing about yet. What that was, she couldn't say. They let her in, despite the late hour. She entreated her mother to fix her hair for sleeping. She sat on the bed in front of her as her mother's rough hands spun into her golden locks, braiding and twisting it while father polished his and mother's swords. She listened silently as her parents talked about trade routes and politics and the new alliances being formed between Westeros and Essos, and the Summer Isles by extension. They mentioned the latest discoveries being made with the crown-funded exploration of Sothoryos. If it went well, people would be sent on to Ulthos to explore. Father figured the explorers were very brave or very stupid or both. Mother thought it was important to know what was out there, so they did not get taken by surprise like they had by the Others.

Joanna was too young to remember the entirety of the Second-Long Night. She did not remember the White Walkers and their army of the dead. She did not remember the wars that raged on around her as an infant. However, she did remember the bitter cold after it that came with the five-year-long winter. She remembered the pang of hunger when growing anything was impossible, and food was severely rationed. She remembered being curled between her parents, so she did not freeze to death like countless others had. She remembered the perilous journey they took by boat in the iceberg-filled waters to get to Tarth in the last year of winter. She remembered Ser Bronn. She remembered finding him in his cabin on the ship, his face ashen and cold, his lips turned blue with no air passing through his lungs. She did not think it was such a horrible thing to know what was in the world, to build more allies like the Essosi, whose aid with rations and supplies was the reason why all of Westeros hadn't starved to death.

Arya Stark's discovery that the world was round and the previously unknown continents that existed had led to many debates, and a renewed zeal in Westeros to explore the world outside the continent. Maeryna lapped it up like a sponge. She had become something of a bookworm and delighted in sharing every bit of new information she read. Joanna wasn't as intrigued with exploring, but she had an affinity for any new information about Arya Stark. The Nightslayer was something of a hero for Joanna.

Her parents quickly moved on to their usual teasing banter, so Joanna did not feel bad about interrupting them during it. As soon as her mother finished, she ran over to the mirror and stared at her face for a long moment before running back to the bed and grabbing the older woman's face to study it.

"What are you doing?" Her mother asked with amusement.

"Uncle Tyrion says I look like you, but I don't see it. All I see is Father," Joanna explained.

"You don't have to sound so down about that," the man in question quipped back. Joanna made a noncommittal sound in response earning an indignant scoff from her father. Mother always said it was best not to feed his ego, so she rarely did.

"It's a good thing you don't look like me, dear. It'll make your life easier."

She didn't want to tell her mother that she was wrong. It certainly didn't stop the stares and disapproval on others' faces when she practiced her swordplay in the training grounds or their whispers when she took up a bow and arrow or regularly wore breeches and tunics rather than dresses. The lady's life was more suited to Maeryna, who had outgrown her childhood wildness and now loved silks and combs and songs and stories of damsels being rescued by dashing princes. Looking more like their father would've benefited Maery greatly, but alas, her resemblance to him was just slight enough to be ignored for her more homely features. Lionel looked like Father, his features dashing even as a young child, but his status as a dwarf seemed to make others overlook those golden attributes. Perhaps it would get better when he grew older. Joanna could hope anyway.

"I wouldn't mind looking more like you, Mother," Joanna settled on.

"Whether you look like me or not, I love you all the same," the older woman replied, pressing chapped lips to Joanna's forehead. She smiled in reply and pressed a kiss to her mother's bad cheek.

Father had said Mother got the grisly scar on her cheek saving Father and King Aemon's life from wights. She fought bravely and valiantly despite the blood oozing from the wound on her face. That same night, Father had knighted Mother, making her the first official female knight of the Seven Kingdoms. The Lady of Tarth could be self-conscious about it, Joanna observed, so she did her best to make sure her mother knew she did not mind it. Sometimes Joanna wished she had a scar similar so people would take her more seriously when she said she wanted to be a warrior one day. Then she would feel ungrateful and ridiculous, so she never voiced those thoughts.

"Off to bed with you. It's much too late for you to still be out and about," her father ordered as he put the sister-swords down.

"Actually, can I stay here tonight?" She asked the man, looking down and picking at the sheet before glancing back up at him with her famous puppy look. Her father fell for it every time. As usual, he stopped in his tracks and stared at her before looking away.

"Fine, fine. Bloody hell, just cut that out," he grumbled.

Joanna smiled widely before crawling up to lay beside her mother, resting her head on the woman's broad chest as it rumbled with laughter.

"You're hopeless, Jaime Lannister. Felled by a little girl, not even ten namedays yet," her mother said with amusement as her father slipped into the bed on Joanna's other side.

"You're just stronger than I am, Brienne. Not many could resist that look. You've always been a special sort, dear wife," he replied, blowing the candle out on the bedside table.

Joanna snuggled up closer to her mother, the woman's much larger body providing her with warmth and comfort. She didn't care whether she looked like her mother when wrapped in her strong arms. She was safe there.

King's Landing smelled.

It wasn't an overpowering smell. It was faintly there but got more noticeable the longer one dwelt on it. Father said it always smelled horrible, a result of poorly made sewage systems that still were not completely repaired, but he also said it used to be a lot worse. Joanna could not imagine.

The waterfront there was not as blue or beautiful as Tarth. The people did not seem as happy so much as content. To be fair, they were also very busy with the royal festivities. It was overcrowded and loud here. Joanna thought Tarth was bad when too many ships docked on its port, but King's Landing was worse. Joanna didn't favor the capital, but her family was invited to the coronation of the new Queen of the Five Kingdoms. It was strange to Joanna, the fanfare, anticipation, and almost panic surrounding the event but understandable she supposed. For 11 years, the Five Kingdoms had been without a queen, Queen Cersei being the last. There was early speculation that King Aemon would marry his cousin, Queen Sansa, to bring the North and the Riverlands back under his rule or even Queen Yara to get the Iron Islands back. Instead of marriage alliances, he chose to focus on rebuilding the kingdoms under his control. Now that he decided to marry, it was to one of the members of the Essosi royal families.

Mother had been away with their liege, Lord Gendry, at the capital for six moons working with the king and the Essosi ruling families to set up maritime trade agreements and discuss various sea routes pertinent to Tarth. Their island would likely double as a stopover for trading ships even more with these alliances finally set in stone. Mother sent frequent letters back to them, only vaguely speaking of the happenings, but Father and the others on Mother's council speculated that a marriage alliance with the Essosi royals would be the most binding thing that the king could do. Especially since he was still unmarried with no heirs at the age of five and thirty. That prediction proved accurate.

They met Mother in the capital. She met them at the Red Keep where they would be staying. She was happy to see her mother after so long. She noticed the older woman was tired but glad to see them all. They were in a wing of their own thanks to Mother's closeness with the king, though Joanna was made to share her room with Maery while Lionel and Don shared a room next to them. A part of her was galled. She was one and ten now, and she had not shared her bed with her little sister in two years, but she was a guest at the keep, so she did not vocally complain.

Uncle Tyrion was also in the capital with Aunt Allyria and his sons, Gerion and Vorian. Gerion was three, and Vorian was a babe, so they were not much use for play as rigorous as Joanna, Don, and Lionel tended to prefer. Gerion followed them everywhere though, and Joanna welcomed him to join them in their adventures along with Queen Sansa's and Prince Brandon's children. Queen Sansa's younger daughter, Princess Arrana, and Prince Brandon's daughter, Princess Jojenne, were also three, so if Gerion got too annoying, she'd send him off with them and his septa to supervise.

Maeryna, for her part, was in heaven far removed from their horseplay. She liked to wander the halls of the keep, studying the paintings and tapestries on the wall and throwing out facts about every nook and cranny of the castle. Joanna followed her sister, unwilling to allow her to wander alone in this strange place but also so she could get the chance to spend time with the younger girl.

Maeryna had been changing lately. She did not join Joanna and the boys in the training yards with their father anymore. She kept up her archery training but did not do so with the sword. Instead, she would shut herself away in the library reading all day and night or spending time with their septa and etiquette instructors. She acted like a prim and proper lady now, obsessed with dresses and new hairstyles and needlework rather than running around with her siblings. Her head was locked in books reading, always reading, about this thing from years ago or that thing.

Joanna thought nothing of it in the beginning because she liked a bit of reading herself. Maeryna would walk around with her books, ignoring the world and the way people threw looks at her less than beautiful visage. Her light blonde hair was long like Joanna's, and her eyes were vibrant blue where Joanna's were green, but Maeryna was tall for her age, almost as tall as Joanna and Maeryna was, objectively, uglier than Joanna. People noticed and talked. Joanna thought that may be the reason for the distance her sister put between them. Maeryna had been giving her strange looks lately, like she knew something Joanna didn't, or Joanna did something personally to her that made the girl disdainful of her. However, Maeryna did not protest Joanna accompanying her to explore the palace, probably because she was the one who sneaked her away from Septa Pia.

Joanna was not really paying attention to where they were going, mostly just following Maeryna, when she heard the girl gasp. She looked over quickly to see what the matter was only to see the younger girl staring at a set of two doors with an absolutely dazzled expression.

"This is the throne room," she announced with excitement.

"Anything interesting happen in there besides boring politics?"

"Are you kidding me? This is where the Targaryen kings and queens of old made laws and passed judgments. Rickard and Brandon Stark were killed here, kicking off Robert's Rebellion. This is where the iron throne used to be before King Aemon had it dismantled and melted down. This is where Father bravely broke his vows and killed the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen, so he didn't burn the city down."

That piqued Joanna's interest.

"What are you talking about? Did Father tell you that?"

Joanna had no idea what Maeryna meant. He'd made illusions to having to make terrible choices for the greater good. She knew he was a kingsguard to a Targaryen and a Baratheon king, but she did not know he killed Aerys Targaryen.

"Of course he didn't. Father doesn't like talking about the Rebellion. I just listened to what other people said and looked into it myself. It's in the books in the library anyway. All you have to do is look for it. You're too hung up on the Fire Queens though, no time for anything else more interesting."

Joanna rolled her eyes in response.

"You only care about the Rebellion because you think it's romantic. You want to be like Lyanna Stark and run off with some prince. It's stupid. They started a war, he left his wife and children to die alone and then the star-crossed lovers both died anyway, remember? Love is pretty, but it is not the moral of that story, Maery."

"What would you know? You've never been in love."

"Thank the gods, and nor have you."

Maeryna shrugged in response.

"I still think it's a sweet story."

"You would," Joanna replied, shaking her head.

"Can we go in?" Maeryna asked, inching towards the door.

"I don't think we're allowed in there."

"No one's around, it'll be fine," Maeryna pressed.

Joanna looked up and down the hall. She was reluctant, but Maeryna seemed so excited. Joanna walked over to the large doors and pushed them open after pressing her ear to it and hearing silence. The two girls walked inside the opulent, large room. She felt dwarfed under the high, stained glass ceilings. There were stories in the depictions of dragons, wolves, lions, falcons, trouts, krakens, roses, sunbursts, and spears embedded in the stained-glass glittering down on them in white, green, black, red, grey, blue and gold. Banners were hanging from the walls. The Targaryen sigil of a three-headed red dragon on a black field hung down, but so did King Aemon's personal sigil: a white direwolf encircled by a white dragon spitting fire against a black field. Next to it was another banner, the banner of their soon-to-be-queen Joanna supposed. It featured a white broken chain in the background, disrupted by a graceful white swan in flight in the foreground on a field of lilac. What captured Joanna's attention were the thrones on the far side of the room. Maeryna seemed to notice her staring.

"That's where the iron throne used to be. King Aemon had most of the swords melted down and repurposed, but some of the swords from the throne are on display along with other paraphernalia from history. I heard he hosts events where he allows the smallfolk and noble-born alike to come to the castle and view the items as well as plays and dances about history: The First and Second Long Night, Aegon's conquest, the Andal's invasion, the Dance of Dragons, Robert's Rebellion, so on and so forth. I think it's partly to spread word. A part of why the fight against the White Walkers was so disorganized was because the knowledge simply wasn't disseminated efficiently enough. They thought it was Northern wives' tales. I'd say he replaced the throne with decidedly more comfortable chairs. At least he won't become another King Scab," Maeryna joked. Joanna decided to ignore the fact that her seven-year-old sister sounded like a learned historian and used the word 'disseminated' properly to focus on the thrones. They were plain in a way. They were definitely not as eye-catching as a throne made of swords, but they were also ornate, fit for royalty. They seemed the same size, but one had a curvier design.

"The queen will sit by his side?" Joanna asked with some surprise. There had been no seat for a queen beside her king before.

"Yes. Mother says Princess Nyssa will rule with King Aemon, not simply be his wife to bear heirs. She says King Aemon is a just and kind man, and he doesn't think women are incapable simply because they are women. She says he loves Princess Nyssa, and that is why he will marry her, not simply for an alliance. It must be true. If it was just for alliance sake, then he would marry Princess Jhana of New Meereen since that is the largest Essosi kingdom in Dragon's Bay. Her sister, Queen Jhala Ife, is the most respected of the Essosi rulers. Or mayhaps Princess Xara of New Yunkai since she was a princess of the prestigious Mennai bloodline on her home island of Omburu before she was kidnapped into slavery. Instead, he's marrying Princess Nyssa of New Astapor. It's the smallest of the Free Kingdoms, it has the least to offer, and Princess Nyssa and her brother King Jabraltar were peasants on their home island before being sold to slavery. Their family, the Xhons, have no real known history, and their mother's family, the Xoyes, have risen no higher than traders before this. It makes no sense politically to marry her. He must love her," Maeryna said, her voice growing more and more dreamy to the point of irritation for Joanna.

She would never understand her sister's flights of fancy over something as unreliable as love. Which was not to say Joanna didn't believe in love, she did. She saw it every day with her parents, in the way they reacted to each other and looked at one another. She also knew they were not always like that. Love didn't just happen, they built their relationship every day. Love-at-first-sight wasn't real, and putting all your eggs in one basket was ill-advised. She did not want Maeryna hurt one day, but she saw it coming a mile away, even if the girl was only seven years old now. She was young, but sometimes she acted thrice her age, and others not. It was just another difference their relationship was struggling to overcome.

"You sound like you love him, Maery," Joanna retorted.

Maeryna blushed deep red in response, making her sapphire blue eyes and straw blonde hair stand out even more.

"I do not, Jo. He's my king," she said in her own defense.

Joanna made an unconvinced noise before walking closer to the thrones. In truth, it was the decorations hanging from the ceiling that really captured her. 21 dragon skulls were hanging down above the thrones. They ranged in size from as large as a ship to as small as a cat's. She stared at one of the largest ones, which had a hole between the two eyes, the bones slightly fractured from some point of impact.

"That's Balerion the Black Dread," a voice said behind them.

Both girls gasped and whipped around only for their eyes to widen as King Aemon walked towards them. He was accompanied by their uncle, an ebony-skinned woman who must be Princess Nyssa and a short, fair-skinned woman wearing light armor and boiled leather. Their uncle shot them a meaningful look, and both girls dropped into a curtsy.

"My king," they muttered respectfully.

"Your Grace, these are my nieces, Joanna and Maeryna, who I believe are supposed to be with their septa now, along with their brothers and cousins, not sneaking into the throne room," Uncle Tyrion explained, shooting them another look.

Maeryna blushed again under the attention.

"They were curious, I'm sure. Any child would be. I'm curious about those skulls, to be honest," Princess Nyssa said, stepping closer to King Aemon, her words accented but easy enough to understand.

King Aemon and Princess Nyssa made a striking image together in their contrasts, his pale white skin against her deep brown, but they both had kind faces. That was a good thing for them, Joanna supposed. It would make people more likely to trust them.

"Aye, I can understand the curiosity," the king agreed, his accent distinctly Northern, as he smiled at the girls amiably. His smile seemed to help Maeryna relax, and the excited glint returned to her eyes.

"I've read about the dragons and about how large Balerion was, but I never imagined. Meraxes and Vhagar were not so big, but I'm sure they were magnificent too. And your dragon, of course, Your Grace," the girl said excitedly. The king gave her a weaker smile.

"Rhaegal was never really mine, evidenced by his decision to leave these lands following his mother and brother's deaths. All the same, I can show you which skulls belong to Vhagar and Meraxes if you wish," the king said, offering her his hand.

Joanna watched Maeryna turn noticeably red again but take the king's hand and follow him and the future queen closer to the dragon skulls as he pointed out each one and named them. Uncle Tyrion gave her another warning look, but a smile was playing on his lips.

"I'll go make sure the presence of the king doesn't move her to swoon and faint."

Joanna flashed him a smile of amusement and watched him walk past her before turning to the other woman who did not go with them. The armored woman stared at Joanna intensely, so much so that it frightened her and made her go cold inside, something deep within her telling her she should run away from this woman. Run away, and not look back. Joanna had never been one to listen to that feeling. She stepped a little closer to the woman.

"Hello. Are you a knight?"

The woman snorted in response.

"Do I look like a knight?"

Joanna shrugged in response.

"A little. You're wearing armor, and you've got a sword."

"If that's all that was needed to be a knight, any fool could become one."

"I don't think that's all that is needed. It's just a question," Joanna replied, feeling irritation start growing in her at the woman's words, spoken tersely and without care.

"No, little girl. I'm not a knight. I'm the Lady Commander of the Kingsguard."

Joanna's eyes sparkled with interest.

"Lady Commander? You're Arya Stark, the Nightslayer."

"Last I checked."

Joanna paused before smiling at the woman.

"Mother talks about you a lot. I listen to all the stories. They're my favorite ones," Joanna confessed, staring at the woman wide-eyed.

"Why?" Lady Commander Stark asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"Because they… inspire me. You're a woman, but you're Lady Commander of a king's guard now. My mother's a knight, but she's also the Lady of Tarth. Gods willing, that honor will never fall on me. I've got two healthy brothers and a sister obviously more suited for it than me. I like reminding that I can fight. I can be a warrior or a commander or a knight if I want to be."

"I'm not actually a knight. Jon— King Aemon offered, but I didn't want to be knighted. Too many vows."

"I don't mind the vows, I just want to be knighted and show other girls they can be knights too," Joanna decided.

Lady Arya looked at her with a mixture of interest, approval, and something else. Something darker, like hate. That must've been wrong though, she would have no reason to hate Joanna, they'd never met before. The Lady Commander continued staring at her before the king's voice broke through their staring contest.

"Arya," he said simply, making the woman tear her gaze from Joanna and glance at the king.

Joanna did not look to see what wordless exchange they had, but a moment later, Lady Arya took a step away from her. Joanna hadn't even noticed they had been so unsettlingly close to each other. The room was tensely quiet before the king cleared his throat and addressed Lady Commander Stark.

"Lady Laena Baratheon is arriving soon and—"

"I promised there would be no trouble," Lady Arya finished.

The king didn't seem to mind being cut off, he just gave his Lady Commander a kind smile tinged with fondness.

"I'll make sure I'm on the other side of the keep when she arrives then."

Lady Arya bowed casually before shooting her one more look and walking out. Princess Nyssa pressed a kiss to King Aemon's cheek before flashing Joanna, Maeryna, and Tyrion a sunny smile and following Lady Arya.

"Forgive my sister. I trust her more than anyone, she's a better commander than I could ever ask for, but her social abilities can be lacking at times. She had a childhood that didn't leave much room to improve that particular skill set," the king apologized.

"Have I done something to offend Lady Arya?" Joanna asked worriedly.

"No, of course not. You just… you reminded her of someone she used to know."

"Who?" Joanna asked curiously.

"Your mother," the king replied with a certain sadness to him.

Joanna paused at that, glancing at her uncle, who suddenly turned melancholy. She switched her gaze to Maeryna. She had a strange look on her face as she gazed at Joanna. There was almost disdain in her gaze before it was overcome by embarrassment as she realized her hand was still folded firmly in the king's grasp, and she pulled away swiftly, walking towards Joanna.

"We should find our septa or parents before they begin to worry. By your leave, Your Grace," she said in the tone of voice Joanna recognized as the diplomatic tone she practiced with her and their brothers. The king nodded. Maeryna pulled Joanna out of the room.

"Were you and Lady Arya close, Mother?" Joanna later asked her mother as the family sat down for their dinner, along with Uncle Tyrion and Aunt Allyria.

"I would say so, yes," her mother answered.

"You never had any disagreements at all?"

"Well, we had disagreements but only ever minor ones. Nothing that couldn't be reconciled. Why?"

"Your daughters had the good fortune of meeting the king, the future queen, and Lady Commander Stark today during their wanderings," Uncle Tyrion mentioned.

"Did you," their father said, his voice tight.

"You got to meet the king?" Lionel asked, his voice filled with awe.

"No fair. We didn't sneak away. We were good, and you still got to meet the king," Galladon complained as Joanna stuck out her tongue teasingly.

"Joanna and Lady Arya didn't seem to get along," Maeryna mumbled.

"What? Why? Lady Arya's distant with everyone, besides King Aemon, Queen Sansa, and Prince Brandon, but she's not outright hostile to anyone who doesn't threaten the safety of her family," Aunt Allyria said, confusion in her voice.

"The king said it's because she looks like her mother," Maeryna said, her eyes cutting over to Joanna with that same faint disdain in her eyes.

"Why do you say it like that? Her mother? Her mother is your mother," Galladon pointed out.

"Is she?" Maeryna mumbled so low it was almost inaudible, but Joanna heard.

"Maery," Mother warned.

"What are you trying to say?" Joanna asked, her voice turning hard as she stared at her sister.

"Why don't you figure it out yourself," Maeryna retorted.

"Maeryna, enough. Both of you cut it out right now," Mother's voice was hard as steel. Joanna ignored it.

"Why don't you just spell it out for me? Because you're so smart, right? You and those books you lock yourself away with. I'm just an idiot who likes to swing about a sword. If you're so much smarter than me, why don't you just tell me?" Joanna pressed.

"I think it's time you both simmer down and eat your dinner, yes," Uncle Tyrion said in a softer tone, grabbing Maeryna's hand, but the girl pulled it away, her eyes never leaving Joanna.

"Are you pretending not to know? Or are you really just that daft?"

Joanna glared at her younger sister in response, her anger growing in the pit of her stomach. All she wanted was to throw something at Maeryna or jump across the table and grab her.

"You've never wondered why you look so dissimilar to Mother? You've never wondered why some of the people of Tarth flinch away from you? You've never wondered why sometimes Father looks at you like he's seeing a ghost and not you? You've never wondered why he tries to keep you from Lionel sometimes? You've never even thought to guess the truth, have you? You've never thought to know the awful truth about who you really are—"

Joanna opened her mouth to retort, but there was a sudden crash as their father shot up, his chair hitting the floor, his wooden hand hitting the table with a loud thud causing everyone at the table to jump at the noise.

"Quiet! Both of you will be quiet right this instant! I don't want to hear another word from either of you!" He shouted at them, his face angry and troubled.

"Maeryna, go to your room."

"But Father—"

"Your room, now."

The girl huffed but trudged her way to the room anyway. Father sat down after a moment, the room remaining pin-drop silent even as Gerion's lip quivered in fear. No one wanted to be the one to break the silence or ask the obvious questions hanging in the air.

Was what Maeryna implied true? And if Brienne of Tarth wasn't her mother, then who was?

Six years is a long time to ignore something as monumental as your identity, but Joanna's always been stubborn. She was determined to act as if the argument with Maeryna never happened, so that's what she did. If Galladon tried to reassure her of her parentage, she acted like his words were unnecessary. If Lionel ever asked questions, she'd gently steer her little brother from the topic and entreat him with something else. If either of her parents tried to speak to her about it, she shut the conversation out. She tried to be as sisterly as possible with Maeryna and forget things said when tensions ran high, but Maeryna, while training herself to be a proper lady and the perfect wife, was also the daughter of Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth. She was as stubborn as Joanna and was determined to keep whatever grudge she was harboring against her. Interactions between them remained barbed and tense. Their father kept things from coming to blows while their mother mediated between them, treating neither any better or worse than the other.

Then Mother fell ill. It was summer, yet the days had been growing colder. It was nowhere near the winter winds Joanna experienced during the first four years of her life or like it was during the Year of the False Winter, but it was unseasonably cold. The poor weather had been affecting harvests, among other aspects of life in the Seven Kingdoms. A sickness began making the rounds on the Isle of Tarth. There had been thirty cases thus far with six fatalities: an infant girl, an elderly couple, two old farmers, and a teenage boy who was said to not be over a previous, more severe sickness. The illness was reported to not be too deadly for most, but Mother had fallen horribly ill and been confined to bed.

Joanna watched terrified as the woman who she had always known as a fierce warrior shivered under piles of furs, sweat matting her short hair to her forehead, loud coughs forcing their way from her throat. She had always been larger than life for Joanna, a role model to imitate, however poorly. Joanna looked too much like a lady to be taken as seriously as her mother was. Her face was too soft, her curves too noticeable. She was of average height and build with a golden crown of wavy hair and hypnotic green eyes. She was beautiful. Most times, she hated it. She was always underestimated, and it hadn't endeared her to Maeryna.

Despite that, both girls found themselves sitting on either side of their mother's bed, tending to her when the maester was not there. Father was beside himself. Sometimes, he would sit by Mother's bed, holding her hand and begging her not to leave him when he thought the girls had fallen asleep. Otherwise, he tended to Galladon, whose fear over their mother's health translated to anger and lashing out at anyone he could and Lionel, who was withdrawing into himself. The girls remained strong for their family, never once believing that their mother would be anything but brave in the face of this trial.

They sat silently now, Joanna swiping a wet cloth across her mother's forehead while Maeryna stitched yet another prayer wheel. Three already hung above their mother's head, but Maeryna was much more devout in the Light of the Seven than Joanna was, even though King Aemon followed the Old Gods and Father and Mother weren't pious. Joanna stayed focused on her mother, the sounds of Maeryna's fingers weaving through the straw and her mother's ragged breaths all that filled the room. She let herself be lulled into nothing but sensory details, sound and breath and touch. She would have stayed there, floating on nothing but her senses when Maeryna suddenly broke through that with an offhand comment.

"You should make her a wreath."

Joanna shrugged in response.

"Why? You're already doing it, and I'm no good at stitching," she replied.

It wasn't as if a wreath was going to suddenly make their mother wake up, fully healed.

"Because it'll probably work better if you do it."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because you were always her favorite," the younger girl said simply, her eyes not leaving her work.

"What are you talking about?"

"Mother. You were always her favorite."

Joanna rolled her eyes in response.

"Don't be ridiculous, Maery."

"It's true. You're the one who likes riding horses and swordplay and armor while I just like my boring books and sewing and history and poetry. I suppose it helps that you're beautiful, unlike me. You look just like your mother."

Joanna stiffened at that before clamping down on the wave of thoughts and emotions that flowed through her. She would not acknowledge it. She never would if she could help it.

"Everyone says that, but I don't look much like Mother. Besides, when I'm fighting."

Maeryna looked up from her work, her eyes flashing angrily.

"Stop it. Stop ignoring it. You're seven and ten, you're not a child anymore. Stop running from the truth and just face it like a grown bloody woman."

"The truth? Do you want to know what truth I know? I know that Mother loves us all the same, and to suggest otherwise is a slight against her honor. I know that she doesn't care that you like dresses and princes and poetry, she just worries about you because she doesn't want you to be hurt like she's been. I know that while you've spent years turning your nose up at me about a woman I've never met and blaming me for things I can't begin to imagine I've any fault in, I've not once blamed you for it. I've done what I could to protect you. Because I love you. Because I'm your big sister, and it's what I'm supposed to do."

Maeryna looked down, obviously disturbed.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Joanna asked in a quieter tone.

"I don't hate you. I envy you sometimes. That's what I hate," Maeryna admitted after a while.

"It's not easy for me, you know? Standing beside you. You're older, prettier, stronger, braver, a great fighter. You're better than me in every way. I don't exist with you beside me. Who would ever choose me? Three moons ago, I had my first kiss. Clifford Swann during the ball that was thrown for Don and I's fourteenth nameday. He danced with me all that night and kiss me under the stars. I was ecstatic about it. Later on, I heard him and his friends talking. It was a bet, you see. A bet they placed to see if he could stomach spending a night with 'Maeryna Mutt-Face,' I believe they called me. He bemoaned how sad he was that he didn't get to spend the night with you as he had intended to do, all for the sake of me."

Maeryna looked up at her again, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"It's always you. You get all the good parts of your mother and seemingly none of the bad. I get all the worst parts of mine and none of the good. It doesn't matter because you're Lady Joanna Lannister, and you're going to live a long, happy life, probably married to some prince. I'll die a maid or a spinster, or end up married to some old lord who bargained for me with coin purses or an army."

Joanna shook her head.

"You silly girl. How do I even begin to tell you how wrong you are?"

Maeryna's face turned up in anger, but Joanna cut her off.

"Mother and Father would never allow you to be shuffled off to the highest bidder. If they tried, I wouldn't allow it, and neither would Don. If you honestly think I'd ever live my life locked away in a keep with a husband who looks at me like a dainty flower then you've no idea who I am, sister. Your very existence sums up some of the best parts of Mother. You're just as strong and fierce and loyal and honorable and mayhaps too insecure. And, Clifford Swann can take a long drop and sudden stop for all I care. You don't need him."

"You don't understand how it felt to feel wanted for once in my life."

"Did it ever once occur to you that I want you? That I'd choose you first, always, with no reassurances or promises from you that you'd do the same in return? Has it ever once crossed your mind that I love you, flaws and all, with no reservations in that love whatsoever?"

That seemed to stop Maeryna up. She stared at her older sister, wide-eyed. Joanna smiled indulgently at the young girl, reaching across the bed to stroke her cheek lightly.

"You're young yet. You'll learn soon that family is what's more important than anything else in the world. More than princes or poems or dresses. More than swords or bows or knighthoods. More than this keep or even this island. Our family is what's most important. If we can't love and support one another, who else will?"

The tears in Maeryna's eyes spilled over. Soon she was sobbing in earnest. Joanna got up and moved over to the other side of the bed, pulling the girl's head to her stomach and stroking her hair and back comfortingly. She could not tell when last Maeryna allowed such contact between them. Probably weeks if not months before Queen Nyssa's coronation. She held Maeryna as the girl cried herself out and held her even after that, though it couldn't have been comfortable holding her face in the wet spot her tears created on Joanna's dress.

"I'm sorry," Maeryna said after a long silence, her words cracked and broken.

Joanna shrugged in response.

"There's nothing to forgive."

Maeryna scoffed.

"There's so much," she replied, her words taking on meanings Joanna had no wish to delve into.

There was still much unresolved between them. There were even things within Joanna that warred with each other. It would continue to do so until she acknowledged it. However, to acknowledge it…

It would leave her lost in a way she had no wish to be. She knew who she was now, even if it seemed almost out of her reach. She once swore she would be one of the first, if not the first, officially knighted woman in Westeros, following in the steps of her mother, Brienne of Tarth. To believe anyone else could've sired her… no, she would not let that be.

If she ignored it all, it could not be.

The Citadel was a beautiful place, white and shining and bustling with activity.

Joanna did not think to find herself in Oldtown, but Maeryna wanted to visit the Citadel's library as well as the Starry Sept, and Joanna was not willing to let her go to the city alone. Maeryna had been indignant about it, claiming that at seven and ten, she was a woman grown and did not need her older sister's supervision. Their parents had seen it fit to send Joanna anyway. The girls were reluctantly allowed into the library, only being approved because they had been quick to tell the man at the front desk who their parents were.

Maeryna disappeared into the history section. Joanna was confident that if her sister dropped dead now, it would be from pure joy. The library was vast and expansive, just as beautiful as the city of Oldtown itself. Joanna wandered, passing acolytes of the Citadel in training maester's robes and peasants being taught to read. Queen Nyssa had been the chief advocate for that. Her experience as a slave taught her just how important it was to be able to read, and so it was the onus of lords and regents to make sure their smallfolk was tutored. The Citadel and the Starry Sept under the watchful eyes of House Hightower of the Hightower (not to be confused with their cousins, House Hightower of Highgarden) were the two main hubs of the realm for learning. Smallfolk, young and old, came from all over to learn.

Joanna was not sure where she would find herself, perhaps the military section, but as she looked up at the markers denoting which subject the books belonged to, she found herself passing the Genealogy and Noble Families section. The Citadel was rigidly documented. No matter what had taken place, if they wrote it, it was so. If they held books on Lannister lineage, which most probably they did, the answer to the question always floating in the back of her head would be answered.

It was still daunting for Joanna to admit that Brienne of Tarth was not her mother, at least not the woman who carried her and birthed her. She still did not talk to her family about it, though she caught the looks her parents gave her. Joanna got looks from everyone now that she was in her twenties and entered adulthood. God forbid she was in King's Landing or Casterly Rock, then everyone stared and whispered. King Aemon would look at her with a shadow of mistrust for a moment every time he saw her, as if she were the Night King himself before speaking to her. Lady Commander Stark still looked ready to kill her at any moment. Uncle Tyrion would avoid her at times, having to collect himself. Queen Sansa gave her cold looks. The only ones who didn't seem to look at her and see this woman that was her mother were Queen Nyssa and Aunt Allyria. She thought that might be because they hadn't met her and so their interactions with Joanna were not tainted by this pre-knowledge.

On the one hand, she'd like to quell the curiosity and just know whether her mother was really such a horrible person. Then, on the other hand, maybe it would be better if she just didn't know.

"I have been blessed by the Gods, it's true. Otherwise, I'd never get to be here today," Maeryna said excitedly, running to Joanna's side. She gave the taller girl a tremulous smile, and Maeryna's instantly waned.

"What's wrong?"

Joanna nodded to the aisle. Realization dawned on Maeryna's face.

"I could just tell you, you don't have to find it through books."

"I know, but… I think this is something I have to do myself."

"Well, I'll stay close."

Joanna nodded and made to walk into the aisle, but Maeryna stopped her.

"It doesn't change anything. Not our relationship, or our parents' or who you are. I was a fool to think it did for so long."

"Except it does, doesn't it?"

"No. You're still my sister and Galladon's and Lionel's. You are Joanna Lannister, eldest daughter of Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth. That doesn't change."

Joanna softened before hugging her sister. She pressed a kiss to the girl's cheek and then made her way into the aisle. There was a bored man who seemed to be guarding the books.

"Excuse me? I'm looking for a book."

"I should hope so, elsewise, you've come to a very queer place."

Joanna rolled her eyes at the man as he stared at her unflinchingly.

"It's about House Lannister's lineage."

"Ah, you have the coloring for it, that's for sure. Follow me," the man all but ordered.

Joanna wasn't particularly happy with his tone but followed behind him.

Finding the book on House Lannister was easy. The book was red and gold with a lion on the spine as well as the cover. The man pulled the large book off the shelf and carried it to a table where she could read it properly. She glanced at him as he did not relinquish the book to her.

"Thank you. I can take it from here."

"Policy. I can't leave the book with you."

"Why?"

The man's face softened a little.

"Like I said, policy."

Joanna rolled her eyes but told him what she was looking for. He flipped through the old, weathered pages before reaching the family tree. There were many names she didn't recognize and some she did.

"Alright. I'm guessing this is the family line you're looking for. Gerold Lannister married Rohanne Webber and had four sons. Tywald, Tion, Tytos, and Jason. Tytos Lannister married Jeyne Marbrand, who birthed Tywin, Kevan, Tygett, Genna, and Gerion. Tywin, the eldest of five, married his first cousin, Joanna Lannister, daughter of Jason Lannister. They had three children: twins Cersei and Jaime, Cersei being the eldest by some minutes, and Tyrion Lannister, nicknamed the Imp by the general populous for his dwarfism. Lady Cersei married King Robert Baratheon with a boy between them named Steffon Baratheon, though he died in the cradle. She and her twin brother conducted an illicit affair for many years, of which they had four children together: King Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, King Tommen, and Lady Joanna. Jaime Lannister also had three other children with his wife, Ser Brienne of House Tarth: Maeryna, Galladon, and Lionel. Tyrion Lannister has two sons with his third wife, Allyria of House Dayne: Gerion and Vorian."

The man continued speaking, but Joanna had tuned him out for the most part.

She was the daughter of one of the Fire Queens, one of the Mad Queens. She was born of incest. It made sense now, her mother's caution with Maeryna and Galladon. It was no wonder then, why King Joffrey was said to be so mad but Joanna wasn't that, was she? What did this make her?

If she were honest, a part of her knew already. She was a woman grown at one and twenty now. She may have been more for swords than books, but she was not stupid. She looked a great deal like her father. Even though people said she looked like her mother, they said she looked like her father just as much. There could only be one person who looked just like her father and thus like her.

She felt a range of emotions then: anger, disgust, sadness, numbness, uncertainty, but also a curious sense of absence and even relief. She had thought that the truth would utterly destroy her entire perception of her life. It was almost as if she believed the world would drop away under her feet and leave her to fall into an abyss she would never be able to claw her way out of. Instead, she didn't feel any different, not really. She had questions for her parents, for her father, but her memories with her family didn't disappear with this knowledge. The fabric of who she was didn't disintegrate into nothing.

She began to walk away, but the man stopped her.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm finished. That's all I needed."

"All you needed was the bare bones of a great, noble family line?" He asked in a dubious tone.

"Yes."

The man stared at her before, staring back at the book and then her again.

"What's your name?"

"Joanna."

His eyes widened slightly before quickly settling.

"That explains it then. Thought I saw a ghost, but you just look like your mother is all."

Joanna nodded after a little while.

"Yes, I suppose I do," she replied simply, before continuing to walk away and returning to the aisle where she found her sister.

Maeryna took a look at her face and pulled her into a hug.

"Remember, it changes nothing."

Maeryna's voice sounded so sure.

"You're right," Joanna replied.

When they returned to Tarth, Joanna was quick to find her father alone so she could talk to him. There was no point in ignoring it anymore. She has been avoiding this since she was one and ten. A decade was more than enough time to stop allowing this to bog her down.

She entered the room where she knew her father would be. It was a small room that served as a private armory for him and Mother. His back was to her as he stood on a stool polishing and wiping down his armor.

She took a moment to admire him. His hair had long gone grey, though he still kept it cut short nowadays. He wore a blue tunic with gold accents, most likely the work of Maeryna, along with black breeches and boots rather than armor. He hadn't taken to wearing armor regularly at home in some time. His Valyrian sword, Lionstooth, was hanging from his belt along with an obsidian dagger. When she asked, he would say it was a habit he held over from the Second Long Night to always carry obsidian on his person. He stepped down off the stool and turned around, jumping slightly when he saw her standing there.

"Seven Hells. You know, I'm starting to believe you have some nefarious plan to kill me," he commented dryly, a hand on his chest.

Joanna smiled a little in return as she approached.

"I'll never tell," she said cheekily, hugging him in greeting.

"Did you just come to scare the life out of an old man?"

Joanna pulled him with her to sit down on the bench in the room.

"Uh-oh, this doesn't bode well."

Joanna shook her head to dispel him of worry.

"No, it's okay. I just thought we should talk."

Her father looked at her curiously.

"Maeryna and I visited the Citadel while we were in Oldtown. I took a trip to the genealogy section, and I saw our family tree. They are quite meticulous in their record keeping. I know who my birth mother is."

Her father's face fell. He closed his eyes before looking back at her.

"Joanna—"

"It's alright. I think… I think a part of me figured it out a while ago, I just chose to ignore it. I didn't want to face it. I've read about her, I've heard Uncle Tyrion talking about her, I know she wasn't a… well, I know what she was in the end, and I know what King Joffrey was, and it scared me. I didn't want to think that I could be like that."

"You're not. Jo, you're the farthest thing from Joffrey. Myrcella and Tommen were good, kind children. You remind me of them more than you do Joffrey or even Cersei. And as for her, she was… a difficult person. I didn't all the time understand her. I did love her, I was in love with her, even though I shouldn't have been for several reasons. We were—"

"I don't need to know. I don't want to know," Joanna said, cutting him off.

Her father nodded understandingly after a moment.

"Just… whatever Cersei was, she loved her children, all of them. She loved you. She wanted what was best for you. She wanted you to live and be safe. She made both Brienne and I promise that we would love you, and allow you to be whatever you wanted to be. Our father was even more difficult than Cersei, he controlled all of us so rigidly. Cersei didn't want that for her children. She lost herself in the end. Perhaps she never knew herself, never got the chance to. I don't know, she was different after our mother died. What I do know is despite how much you may remind me of her, you're not her. You're kind and generous and accepting and beautiful both inside and out. I'm prouder than I could ever tell you of the woman you've grown into."

Joanna smiled, her eyes growing misty before she leaned forward to hug her father once more, turning her head into his shoulder.

"I have something for you. Well, your mother and I both," her father said, pulling away from her to clear his throat.

He stood up and walked to a covered outfit. He pulled the sheet down. Joanna stared at the armor with awe. It was light armor tinted blue with red and gold accents on the breastplate and pauldrons. There was a sword in front of it. The sword shined under the sunlight that came through the window.

Joanna looked at her father for permission before hesitantly approaching. She reached out and took the sword in her hand. As she looked, she saw that the pommel was a gold lion. The sword was light, perfectly balanced. Engraved in the sword itself were the sun and moon of Tarth's sigil.

"Valyrian steel," she said in shock as she realized what it was.

"Your mother is quite the politician now. All those trips to King's Landing over the years have served her well. The crown has been harvesting Valyrian steel from the ruins of old Valyria with enough to spare. She managed to cajole it out of the king, though it wasn't very hard. He's all too aware that the threat of the Others is only ever one held at bay at best. At least, that's what she said to convince him to allow her the steel. We were saving it for your nameday but now seems a good time. How do you like it? Do you like the balance?"

Joanna nodded, holding the sword out as she continued inspecting it. She looked up to see her father watching her with a smile on his face.

"What?"

"You look like your mother."

Joanna's smile waned a little, but her father shook his head.

"She had that same look on her face when I gifted her with her armor and Oathkeeper."

Joanna's smile returned full-force as she realized he meant Brienne and not Cersei.

"Most swords have names."

Joanna took a moment to think.

"Sapphire."

Her father smiled in response.

"Short, to the point, and fitting for a lady of Tarth. I like it."

Joanna smiled again, looking back at the armor that was hers.

"Go on, put it on. Then you can knock those fools in the training yard to the ground properly. After they give you cause to, of course. Your mother won't be happy if she learns I gave you such advice, so let's keep it between us."

Joanna nodded eagerly and made her way to the armor.

This was all she ever wanted, all she ever wanted to be and learning the truth didn't hinder it or stop it from happening. It just was.

She did look like her mother. With this armor, she would look like both of her mothers she supposed, but she was still herself. She was only ever herself. That was what mattered to her above all else.