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Robb and Theon always insist on playing knights and maidens with her, even though she can’t stand the game...not the way they play it, anyway. Joanna is just as good as them with a sword (it’s a bit heavy for her arms, but she doesn’t tell them that). They always force her to be the maiden, and she doesn’t like that at all; all she has to do is sit on her rump on the bench while Robb and Theon fight each other to ‘save’ her.
Theon is twelve, while Robb and Joanna are only seven, so he’s very bossy. Whenever Joanna tries to ask if she can play, he’ll always silence her and lift her up, plopping her onto the bench. She once told Robb that Theon shouldn’t act like that, because he’s only a ward, but her brother frowned and said that she shouldn’t talk bad about him behind his back.
“Alright, Joanna, who do you want to save you this time?” Theon tosses his wooden practice sword from one hand to the other.
She furrows her brow, her lips jutted out into a slight pout. “No one. I don’t need saving.” She crosses her arms over her chest, defiant. “I want to be a knight this time.”
“You can’t be a knight!” the ward protests. “You’re a girl!”
“At least I’m not stupid!” They start throwing insults at each other, shouting at the top of their lungs.
The two stop arguing when they see Robb slink over to the bench. He sits down, his face a blank mask. “We should let Joanna have a chance.”
“Fine,” Theon sneers, thrusting a sword into her hand.
She shakes her head. “I want you to be the maiden.”
“Me? Why me?”
“First off, you’re bigger and older than me, so it won’t be fair if I have to fight you.” She pulls her brother to his feet and shoves Greyjoy toward the bench. “And Robb can take care of himself better; he wouldn’t find himself locked in a tower, much less wear a dress. Plus, you’re stupid, so you’re bound to need more saving.” Robb laughs at that and takes Theon’s sword.
Robb is the Mad King in this round and Joanna is the Kingslayer. She thinks that Robb is going easy on her- maybe he wants to help prove her point to Theon, even if they’re not completely fair about it. “Burn them all!” Robb howls, blocking Joanna’s hits with ease.
“I won’t let you!” she shouts back. “I need to save my princess!” Both of them break character for a moment and laugh, sparing a glance at the ward, who’s seething, glaring at them from his spot on the bench.
Joanna cheats a little and trips her brother; she’s getting tired and the game has been going on long enough. She’s even starting to feel a bit bad for forcing Theon to be the maiden. “You are beat, Your Grace!” she cries, pointing the tip of the sword at Robb. “I’ll save you, my princess!” She runs over to the ward and pulls him off the bench. “You’re welcome,” she quips after he doesn’t bother thanking her.
“It’s boring when we play it this way.”
“How do you think I feel all the time?”
Theon shrugs. “It’s how it works in real life.” He begins to walk to the armoury, followed by Robb.
“Wait!” Joanna calls after the ward. “What about my reward?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You always make me kiss you when you win!”
“You want a kiss?” Theon teases, smirking.
She wrinkles her nose. “No, but it’s only fair.”
The Ironborn sighs. “Fine.” He trudges over to her and pecks her cheek; Joanna thinks she gives him better kisses, though. “Happy?”
“No,” she blurts out. She wipes her cheek on her sleeve for emphasis. “You’re stupid.”
He rolls his eyes. “Is that your only insult?”
Joanna dashes off without another word, her cheek tingling. He’s a dumb boy, just like all the others, except for maybe Robb, but even he can be dumb. Even so, she can’t help but grin for the rest of the day.
Theon’s hands are bound and his head is covered by some smelly old cloth bag. He can’t see a damn thing, but he doubts anything exciting is happening. It’s much too quiet, the only sounds the faint chirping of birds and the clop clop of the horse hooves. He wants to doze off, even for a few minutes, since he hasn’t slept in days. But he knows that he’ll fall off his horse if he dozes off, and that’ll only earn him a beating from his captor.
His thighs and arse are sore and blistered from the saddle, and he’s certain the burning sensation is permanent. His hands are cramped from not being able to move for days on end. He pulls at the chains subconsciously, the soft rattling echoing in his ears.
The hairs at the back of his neck rise in warning; something is wrong. They’ve stopped, and he’s not sure why. He hears the whizzing of an arrow and ducks automatically, wincing. The impact never comes, though, and he hears his captor grunt, followed by a heavy thud.
He feels soft hands against his, then hears a quiet click. The chains join his captor on the ground in a heap. He rubs his wrists and cringes at the sensation of the raw skin.
“You can take off the mask,” a voice says, and bloody hell, but he knows that voice. Slowly, he pulls the bag off his head, and he has to clutch the reins of his horse to keep from falling. She smiles fondly at him, the corners of her grey eyes crinkling in the way that he’d always liked.
“How did you find me?” Theon croaks out, his throat suddenly unbearably dry. He gets down from his horse, the blisters on his thighs burning dully.
Joanna reaches out and rubs gentle circles on his wrists. “Ghost helped.” As if on cue, the direwolf lopes by, and the beast even seems to be smiling.
“Why?” After what he’d done, Greyjoy never expected any help, much less from Joanna Snow. “You should hate me. I killed-”
“We found Bran and Rickon,” she whispers, meeting his gaze. “When we heard the news of their supposed deaths, I had to go back and see if it was true.” She chews on her lip, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “I knew you would never harm my family. And I knew what Ramsay would do to you.”
“What about Robb?” he asks, trying to ignore the tingling sensation of his skin under her touch.
Joanna laughs and Theon can’t help but laugh with her, even though he doesn’t understand the joke. “Robb can take care of himself better.” She brushes his hair away from his face, then moves to cup his cheek. “You’re stupid; you’re always going to need saving.” She wraps him in a tight hug, her fingers tangled in his hair.
He cracks a tiny grin, remembering their games of knights and maidens. “Does this make me your princess?”
She laughs again, leaning back to look at him, her fingers still knotted in his hair. “We can take turns being the maiden and the knight.” A stray tear escapes and Theon wipes it away with his thumb. “Hey, stupid, aren’t you forgetting something?” Her voice cracks but the smile on her face never fades.
“And what’s that?” he teases, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. He just wants her to say it out loud.
She playfully shoves his shoulder. “My reward, idiot.”
“I’m afraid I don't have any gold on me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Not that.”
He feigns innocence. “Then what could you possibly want?”
Joanna pulls him forward, crushing her lips to his. His hands settle on her waist, and he regrets not playing maidens and knights for the past few years, if this would have been his reward for saving her.