Chapter Text
When Josie first glimpsed Winterfell, she was immediately reminded of home.
Not the Red Keep, the only place she had lived in this new life as a Baratheon, but her true home. Her first home. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The vast, grey castle that had made her welcome, that tried to keep her safe, that gave such a feeling of belonging, and the warm, reassuring feeling of magic that would envelope her whenever she came home.
Those feelings reached for her now. The magic of this great castle reached for her in the same way Hogwarts had, and Josie could not help but reach back.
Westeros was not completely devoid of magic but there was a paucity of it in the rest of the kingdom, a difference made more stark when compared to the North. The land and the forests of the North were teeming with magic and Josie had spent the last several weeks of travel adjusting to the feel of nature’s magic dancing playfully with her own again.
She had not felt such a thing since she was Hari Potter.
It was wonderful feeling it again now as Josanna Baratheon. It made this life feel comfortable in a way she hadn’t realised was missing before. Like boots that had finally been broken in after wearing them for months, you had grown used to the discomfort and forgot all about it until it was gone.
The Red Keep was not too bad. There was magic in those stones. Not all of it friendly of course, the Red Keep had seen far too much bloodshed and betrayal for that. A royal castle must keep it’s doors open to the royal court, and a royal court is a place of political manoeuvrings and intrigue.
“Bunch of bloody backstabbers.” As Robert Baratheon would say.
He wasn’t wrong and it was that fact that prevented Josie from being too at ease with the magic of the Red Keep, it was fed from too many contradictory feelings. There was a soft edge to the magic, her blood was welcome within it’s halls, but there was also danger, a finger of fear that travelled down the spine, that told you not to become complacent.
Josie had always taken it for a threat, but perhaps it was more of a warning, meant well.
Winterfell though, was like Hogwarts. Thousands of years old, and for all that time holding fast to it’s intended purpose. To protect and shelter those within. That singular intent, bolstered with the blood of those rare few it failed. It felt like curling up in front of a warm fire on a stormy night. That feeling of being held by a parent. The feeling of coming home.
Josie never wanted to leave.
The Starks were assembled neatly in the courtyard, ready to welcome the Baratheon Royal Family on their first visit to Winterfell. She dismounted behind her father, passing the reins of her horse to a waiting stable boy. Stepping back for a moment to allow the King to greet his oldest and dearest friend, Josie smiled at her youngest siblings as they hurried over to join her, relieved to be out of ostentatious wheelhouse and away from Joffrey and their mother at last.
“Josanna, come.” Her father called.
Josanna moved forward to greet the Starks, followed by her little ducklings and the silent Hound that guarded them.
“This is my lot.” Robert said gruffly but with deep affection. “Meet my pride and joy, a girl after my own heart, Josanna Baratheon. Wait ‘til you see her spar, Ned, they say I bring the thunder but my girl here strikes like lightning. Sharp, swift, and deadly.”
“Welcome to Winterfell, Princess Josanna. I had heard you were your father in female form, you wear his face well but for your eyes. You have your mother’s eyes.” The Lord Stark welcomed her with a formal bow and a kiss to the back of her hand, his face carved from ice but his eyes warm.
She curtsied gracefully in return and offered the appropriate words of thanks.
“This is my golden girl, Myrcella. She doesn’t enjoy the fight as much as her sister and I, but she’s a gifted musician and a finer singer you couldn’t find.” Bows and curtsies were repeated again before Robert slapped a meaty paw onto Tommen’s shoulder, though the boy didn’t flinch. “And this is Tommen, my little Tommy, too young to see any skills yet, still learning the basics, but he’s a brave little thing, always wants to ride the big horses, and doesn’t back down from anything. Not even his older brother, standing over there with his mother.”
More bows, before Lord Stark moved through his own family for introductions. King Robert and his children met them enthusiastically before the old friends spoke of visiting the crypts to pay respects.
Josie saw the sour look on her mother’s face at even the barest allusion to Lyanna Stark, and quickly requested a tour of the castle while her father was occupied, eager to move on before tensions could arise.
The Stark children were friendly, and clearly quite proud of their home, with good reason too for Josie was finding herself quite in love with the castle. From the library tower to the godswood, warmth and welcome seeped from every stone and branch, Josie could not contain a small sigh of contentment.
For even the snow was familiar to a girl who had spent her school years in Scotland.
“It’s not the grandeur of the Red Keep, but Winterfell has it’s charms, Princess.” Robb Stark offered from his place walking beside her. The tour was over now, and the royal children were being led to their rooms to rest and dress for the feast tonight.
“Oh, it’s wonderful.” Josie exclaimed softly, earning a small look of surprise. “The Red Keep is nice enough, and, as you say, it is grand, but it’s a place people visit, not a home. Not even to the royal family really. You can’t let your guard down there, but Winterfell? Winterfell feels like a home.”
Robb offered her a warm smile and did not say anything further.
He’s handsome, Josie realised, taking a real look at him for the first time. Devastatingly so. His hair had his mother’s colouring but his father’s texture. His face was his father’s but softened somehow. Youth maybe, she wondered, for she had never seen Ned Stark young, but she didn’t think so. Something of his mother lingered around the eyes, more than the Tully blue colour.
Reports said that Robb was dedicated to his sword practice, and would be a fierce warrior soon enough. Not a knight though, for knighthood was a practice of the Faith of the Seven Who Are One.
Northerners did not worship the Seven.
Her rooms were large and comfortable but not decorated lavishly, the North had better things to spend their money on than excessive furnishings for a room barely used. Josie eyed the furs on the bed with distaste, not that she had a problem with fur, her skin was prone to become irritated when in prolonged contact. She had prepared though, she knew fur was inevitable in the frigid North and so had packed a few lengths of silk to keep between herself and the animal skins while she slept. She also had a few silk scarfs should wearing fur become a necessity, though she hoped the many heavy velvet outer dresses she had brought would be enough.
The feast that night was boisterous but small by typical royal standard, the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, had written ahead to ensure it was so.
Cersei sat there with a moue of distaste twisting her lips. Not enough for Robert to have grounds to call her on it but enough to be sure everyone around her knew she was not pleased to be there. Jaime stood at her a back, Joffrey seated to her left, matching expressions on their matching faces. Though Joffrey would intermittently sneer at his surroundings. Tyrion sat on his other side, the expression on his face said he was ready to chew his arm off if it meant he would escape from his current nightmare. His wine was going down very quickly. Josie would have to make sure to send him off to bed with the younger children, before his sharp tongue got him in trouble.
King Robert sat beside Lord Stark, who was in his normal seat at his King’s insistence, with Lord Jon Arryn on his other side, the three of them in a world of their own as they reminisced about the years they spent together in the Eyrie.
Lady Catelyn sat between these two parties and was isolated for it, for neither of her seating partners seemed prepared to include her, though her husband made some attempts. Josie hid a wince and made a mental note to make extra effort with Lady Stark later.
Lord Robb sat between Lord Arryn and Josanna herself, which left them largely to each other’s company given Lord Arryn’s aforementioned inattention. Her younger siblings were sat at a separate table with the younger Starks, a Greyjoy, and a Snow.
A few Northern lords, who had travelled to Winterfell for the occasion, were interspaced with courtiers that had accompanied the King. Greatjon Umber’s booming voice could be heard over then general din of conversation.
“Do you find the North to your liking, princess?” Lord Robb asked, once her perusal of the hall was complete. Josie withheld a blush, feeling caught, though she had only been observing her surroundings.
“So far,” Josie answered with a smile. “I haven’t seen a real winter so I was most fascinated with the snow. It is ever so beautiful when it is freshly fallen.”
“I, too, have yet to see true winter but even in summer the North can be harsh.”
“I can scarcely imagine, though I know it to be true. Have you ever seen the Wall, Lord Robb?”
“Please, call me Robb, and aye, I have, but only once, the snows are especially brutal around the Wall, even in summer. I did not make the trip until recently, the watch had a deserter.”
“Do they have many?” Josie asked curiously. She knew the glamour of the Wall had faded with time. Most of the brothers were criminals now, there were few volunteers.
“No, which is why we had no cause to travel there before. Even the criminals there hold their vows once they’re made.”
Josie raised an eyebrow, disbelief apparent. “I think Danny Flint would disagree with you.”
“Fair.” Robb acknowledged with a nod. “They know better than to desert then. They never get very far. You know the Northern songs?”
“Not particularly, Myrcella is the musician amongst us, but I appreciate history, I think it’s important to know so we do not repeat it.”
“So we do better next time?”
“Exactly.” Josie flashed him a bright grin, earning her a small laugh from her seating partner.
“Any new suitors, your highness?” Robb flashed a grin of his own and Josie laughed delightedly. The stories of her many suitors had made it north. Probably from her father writing proudly to his friend.
“No. Father said no more after I collected my fortieth horse. We were running out of room in the stables.”
“Forty?” Robb repeated with astonishment.
“Indeed, forty. As my father says, he may bring the thunder but I am the lightning, and ours is the fury.”
The princess did not know where the idea had come from, she had just been so angry and the words were out of her mouth at the same time they crossed her mind.
Despite her best efforts, news that she had flowered had somehow managed to spread through the kingdom, and her father had been inundated with betrothal offers. She knew it was just the way of things, she knew her father would never see her in an unpleasant situation, but Josanna had never felt more like chattel in her life. Property. Something to be purchased and, as such, men had approached her owner.
Robert Baratheon had listened as his most beloved, eldest daughter raged about a woman’s lot in life, as she spoke passionately about the dehumanisation of being bartered for. He understood that he was not the focus of her anger, that she did not blame him, but she hated it, that she would have little say in her life if she did not find a husband who would respect her as much as her father did. It was galling to know her autonomy was conditional, that it came at the whims and generosity of others.
Robert Baratheon held his daughter as she cried over the fact that the world did not consider her a person.
It had been at breakfast with the whole family, at least those who resided in King’s Landing, when Joffrey had provoked her to temper, teasing her cruelly about how her husband may treat her as he wished. In an outburst, not unlike one her father would make, Josanna had declared that any man who thought he could tame a storm would have to prove it in the sparring ring before she would ever be brought before the gods to wed.
Cersei had scolded her immediately, sharply informing her that she would do her duty without complaint, while Joffrey had sneered at her. Tommen and Myrcella had cheered, insisting that she could beat anyone who dared challenge her. And her father…
Her father had looked thoughtful.
The plan had appeared fully formed in her mind at that moment. She waited until her father met her eyes, then calmly stated that any man who wished to marry her could bring his finest horse to King’s Landing and face her over steel. If the won, they could keep their horse and have her hand, but when she won, she would keep her hand and have their horse.
Mother had begun shrieking about her insolence, uncle Tyrion had spluttered and choked on his morning wine, and her father, after looking at her most intently, had agreed. No challenge would take place before she was four and ten, but the notices would go out soon, and so they had. There had been several suitors who had arrived shortly after her nameday to try their luck against her, and several more in the weeks after. It had slowed after those first two moons, as news stronger than the previous rumours had spread of her skill, her speed, and her stamina.
It did not matter if her opponent was stronger than her when they never landed a hit.
“I am surprised your father allows you face your suitors yourself. My mother relented somewhat to allow Arya to learn the sword, after news of yours and your sister’s lessons, but she would never allow her into a real fight. Why does your father not fight them himself, when his affection for you runs so deep?” Josie reminded herself Robb was Northern, the were no implications to counter in his questions, just blunt curiosity.
“Because his trust in me runs equally so. He trained me himself, he knows what I am capable of. Those matches, though real fights, were not to the death. They were not to seriously injure, though it can still happen. They were tests of skill. Outcome aside and to obvious limited extent, I was still safe. Which is why he allows me to fight my own battles. He wants my reputation to be as fearsome as his, he says a strong enough reputation offers its own protections.”
Robb was silent as he considered her words, his eyes glowed in the flickering candlelight, a thoughtful cast to his face. Josie glanced again at her siblings, making sure all was still well.
Tommen and Arya seemed to be getting along splendidly, gesturing enthusiastically with food in careless hands as they discussed something animatedly. Sansa and Myrcella seemed to be getting along just as well, though with far more decorum as was expected of ladies of the south. It seemed being the most sedate and ladylike out of their respective siblings was bonding them together nicely.
“My father has told me many stories of yours, some holding their fair share of youthful foolishness, but none held such wisdom.” Again, Robb was not trying to imply anything.
“Fatherhood changed Robert Baratheon for the better, by all accounts. He was always a decent man, capable of kindness, but he was also arrogant and boorish. Father says having children both humbles you and makes you more than you were before. Father chose to become the person his children needed, that his realm needed. He learned.”
“Then he is still as honourable as my father said he was.”
“He is. You may have to club him round the head with what is right to get him to see it, but once he sees it, he acts of his own volition.”
~~~
The Starks and the rest of their Northern guests were visibly surprised when the King and his eldest daughter joined them in breaking their fast the next morning, a single member of the kingsguard at their backs. Not even Jon Arryn was present yet. Southrons generally slept later than Northerners due to Northerners needing to make the most out of the daylight hours. They were not expecting to see the King first of his party.
Taking their seats at the top table with the Starks, the royal duo busied themselves with the spread before them and ignored the stir they had caused with their arrival. As conversation resumed and attention waned, Robert leaned towards Ned and asked him for a chat in his solar after breakfast, with their firstborn children. Ned and his wife shared a look, while Robb’s eyes shot to the princess seated next to him.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here for your horse.” Josie winked at him, cheeky grin on her face. Robb laughed and a touch of tension eased from his shoulders. Though Josie didn’t think she was imagining the brief flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
They waited till most of the Northern lords had moved on from breakfast, and the southern ones were now arriving for it, before the party of four moved to Lord Stark’s solar.
“What’s this about, your grace?” Ned asked once they had seated themselves, his eyes shooting to Josie.
“Don’t ‘your grace’ me, Ned, not in private. This is not a conversation that requires titles.” Robert reached out to take the goblet being offered to him by Robb Stark, Josie doing to the same with a sweet smile of thanks for the young man. “We need to talk about winter, Ned.”
“Winter?” Ned repeated, surprise spread across his face, before concern took it’s place when he realised how grim his guests looked. “What about it?”
“The maesters have been running the numbers, Ned, we’ve just peaked as the longest and hottest summer since records began.”
The King need not say more, horror had already appeared in the eyes of his friend and his son. They were Starks, they did not need this explained to them.
Winter is coming.
“What are their predictions, Robert?”
The King heaved a great sigh, the weight of his crown contained within the sound.
“We might still have as much as five years of summer left, though very likely less, and they think winter could last for as many as ten if not more.”
Silence reigned for a moment as this new sunk in, cups were drained as minds began racing.
“Even if every keep in the realm expanded their stores and filled them to the brim, it wouldn’t be enough.” Josie said softly, speaking for the first time since they left the great hall. “Even if we had all the food we need, none of it would last that long, not ten full years, it would perish and become poison. There will likely be deaths this winter, no matter what we do. The very young and the very old will be most at risk. We’d like the North and the south to work together to ensure as many lives are saved as possible.”
“That’s why we need you, Ned. I’ve spent years learning how to be king, and I think I’ve done a decent enough job but that was when it was summer. Winter is coming, Ned, and we need a Winter King to get us through.”
Both Starks’ eyebrows had shot up in shock at the King’s words. It was not often a King came to you to lead them.
“I’m not giving you my crown. Much as I’d like to be done with the blasted thing, laws don’t let it work like that. We need you, Ned, to lead the preparations ‘cause the south don’t know what those are, not for winter proper. The snows have never come further south than Harrenhal, not in living memory, and never beyond King’s Landing at all as far as we know, but now, even Dorne might see snow.”
“We need the Northern lords to teach the southern ones how to survive the cold, how to hunt in snow, how to ready their keeps, Lord Stark,” Josie continued, picking up where her father left off. They had spent hours discussing the points that needed to be made here today. “Or this winter is going to be the end of Westeros as we know it because no one south of the neck knows how to live through a winter like this.”
“I want you to come to King’s Landing, Ned,” The King held his hand up, forestalling the arguments no doubt about to be made. “Not for good, but for now. Decisions need to be made, for the whole kingdom, and the North needs to be leading those talks. I know you Northerners are a stubborn lot, but you need to seriously consider moving your people south for the winter, Ned, because if this winter gets as bad as predicted then there’s a real chance it will kill anyone this far north, even with your hot springs.”
“What of the wildlings, father?” Robb asked quietly, seriously. “There’s thousands of them, they don’t have long term provisions. Some might be our enemies, but all of them will die. All of them.”
Josie regarded the young wolf again, that was astonishingly compassionate. His mind went to the most vulnerable first, not just the most vulnerable of his own people, of those under the banner of his house’s protection. That was the honour that the Starks were so renowned for.
“Those are the sort of decisions we need to make, and we need to give the lords a chance to have their say.” Robert gave another great sigh and emptied another goblet of watered wine at the thought of listening to bickering lords for hours on end. The things he did for duty. “But that is enough for now, we’ve given you enough to think about. We’ll discuss it later or tomorrow, with Jon involved, but think hard, Ned, the lives of our people will depend on how we spend these next few years.”
Nothing more was said. The King was right, the news needed to sink in before planning could begin in earnest. Five years had never seemed so long or so short, they had to spend it wisely.
~~~
There were direwolves at Winterfell. Actual direwolves.
Josie had seen many things in this life, and the last one now you mention it, but she had never seen a direwolf before. Charlie Weasley would have been beside himself. Luna too, actually.
The magic in the young wolves before her was immense. Pouring out of them in waves, tying them tightly to their chosen Starks. It was beautiful. It reminded her of her bond with Hedwig.
The intelligence was startlingly similar as well. Hedwig had always understood her and the trouble that surrounded her with an almost human like intelligence. The pups weren’t there yet, no matter how fast they were growing, they were still pups. The mother however, she was fiercely intelligent, you could see it in her eyes as she watched her cubs playing with their human pets.
The story that had been told to her said the mother wolf had approached Lord Stark while he was alone in the godswood, praying to his gods. Lord Stark said he had frozen at first, unsure whether to draw his blade, or climb a tree, or perhaps even try to run. It took a moment for him to realise how calm the wolf was, and another moment still to realise that the stomach of the creature was almost touching the ground. The wolf was about to pup and she had come to him for help.
Ned Stark had lead the wolf to Winterfell, there he and his heir had helped a direwolf give birth, in front of the fire in the great hall. The kennel master stood at a respectful distance, offering instruction. Josie wished she had been there, even if she too had to remain at a safe distance.
The sort of distance she was maintaining now, as she sat near but not too near to the large wolf, both watching over the others. It was difficult, Josie wanted nothing more than to bury her fingers in soft fur and shower the wolf with cuddles and affection. She almost twitched with the need. She knew better though, no mater how seemingly docile the wolf was, it was still a wild animal. She kept her hands to herself, lest she lose them.
She was quite envious of the Starks though, and their bonded companions. She missed having such a bond. Maybe she could find a familiar in this life too. It wouldn’t be the same as Hedwig, but it would be wonderful all the same.
Theon Greyjoy was lingering at the other end of the courtyard, not approaching and pretending not to be watching. It was known that he did not get to close to the wolves, they were not fond of him, or perhaps he was not fond of them. Josie wasn’t sure what to make of the look on his face. It wasn’t quite bitterness, it wasn’t quite resentment, but it was close, with something a little lost behind it all.
“They are incredible, aren’t they?” Robb Stark voice drew her attention, finding him sitting on the ground next to her, large grey ball of fluff in his lap. Josie’s heart leapt at the sight of him and a glowing smile broke across her face. This one, she might be able to cuddle.
“They are.” Josie agreed, lifting a hand gentle. “May I?”
“Let him smell you first, he’ll decided himself if he wants the attention.”
“What’s his name?” She moved her hand to near the wolf pup’s nose and waited for him to cross that remaining small distance himself if he wished to.
He did, and Josie’s heart leapt again, the wolf was just so cute, she wanted to wrap him in her arms and squeeze him as tight as she could.
“Grey Wind.” Robb answered, voice soft with affection. It was a pleasant sound.
“Grey Wind,” Josie repeated, stroking the young wolf’s ears, which he seemed to appreciate, quickly transferring himself from Robb’s lap to hers, eager for her attention. She laughed in sheer delight, equally as eager to give said attention. Though he did not fit nearly so well onto her lap, legs with too large paws scrambling for purchase. Though still small for a wolf, the pup was the size of a medium dog, and growing larger by the day. “Tommy and Cella are going to be furious when they find out I got to cuddle a direwolf.”
“Where are they now?”
“Lessons, mother insisted. For once, I cannot truly blame her, for it was hard to keep them up while we travelled, even with the wheelhouse. Tommy and Cella need to make sure they don’t fall behind, but, even with such understanding, I expect sulking when they learn where I have spent my day.”
“Should their upset grow too much, you may offer to bring them to meet Grey Wind when they are free. I would be happy to escort you.”
“Thank you,” Josie said softly, surprisingly touched by the gesture. Winterfell’s guests had been warned not to approach the kennels without a Stark present, lest the wolves take umbrage with their intrusion.
Robb looked a little bashful, a touch of red tinting his cheeks, but his smile was warm and sincere.
“It is true you fight with daggers?” Came the strident voice of Arya Stark.
Josie looked away from Robb Stark’s smile, to find all his siblings had settled around them, playtime apparently over, all cuddled up to their own wolves. Even little Rickon, who’s wolf, Shaggydog, was now bigger than him. Even the mother wolf, still unbonded and without a name, had moved closer without her noticing.
Jon, who Robb had introduced to her at the welcoming feast, had a knowing smile on his face, while Sansa looked as though she was seeing the sunrise for the first time, eyes wet and entranced. Robb cleared his throat beside her, she suspected he was shooting his brother a look for Jon Snow’s expression became carefully blank, though the twinkle in his eye remained.
Arya’s impatient expression reminded her of the question asked.
“Yes, I duel wield daggers.” Josie said, with a steady tone, but a flutter in her stomach. “I’m also a decent archer and handy with a quarterstaff.”
“Why not a sword?” Was Arya’s swift rejoinder.
“It doesn’t suit my style,” The answer was given grinningly. “I hear you have your own lessons. Do you enjoy the sword?”
“I do.” Arya’s nod was decisive. “Jory says I’ll never be as strong as my brothers but I’ll be faster than them if I practice hard.”
“Why did you wish to learn to fight?” Lady Sansa interjected, before the princess could say anything in response to Arya’s statement.
“Because I am my father’s daughter, the storm is in our blood and ours is the fury. There’s nothing like a good spar to get the blood pumping, to feel your muscles burn. Besides, I like defying the expectations of sex. I dare a man to tell me where my place is.”
Arya looked over the moon at her answer, Sansa did not. Though she did look just a little contemplative.
“Even if you did not care about being ladylike, did you not care that it was so unfashionable, seeing as you are a princess?” Sansa’s question was genuine. Josie laughed.
“I am very ladylike, even when I fight, though my mother would disagree, and it is not so unfashionable now, is it? Your brother told me last night that news of my lessons was one reason Lady Arya was allowed to learn, and she is not alone in that.”
“That’s true.” Sansa was surprised, as though she were only just realising. “It is not the fashion yet, but it is not unfashionable any more.”
“That is the secret, Lady Sansa.” Josie said, conspiratorially. She leaned forward as though conveying a secret and the ladies Stark leaned forward in response. Robb and Jon looked curious and amused, while the attentions of Bran and Rickon were on each other. “We are the daughters of the Great Houses, Royals and their Lords Paramount. We do not follow fashion, we set it.”
Sansa looked as though she had turned her world upside down, while Arya looked as though she finally had the excuse she needed to never again do another thing she was told to.
The next day, Robb did escort Josie and her ducklings to meet the wolves. Tommen and Myrcella, however, spent more time watching their sister and the young lord than they did watching the wolves.
No matter how fascinating the wolves were, they were watching something better.