Author's Note: Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

~*~

Cuckoo In The Nest

Ever close your eyes
Ever stop and listen
Ever feel alive
And you've nothing missing...

Joanna dug her legs into the mare's flanks; head bent low, grip grim on the reins, her fair hair whipping out behind her like a golden banner. She had been warned to leave the mare be; that it was too highly strung for anyone but the most experienced to ride, but characteristically Joanna hadn't listened, stealing the horse from the stables at the first chance she got, determined to be the one who won its temperamental trust. The mare was beautiful, the palest of dappled grey, but its beauty hid the beast within, a stableboy already losing the tip of his ear to its teeth, another almost his fingers.

"Joanna!" Robb Stark yelled as she galloped wildly into the courtyard, scattering people and poultry alike. "Joanna!"

"That's my name, lordling!" Joanna yelled back as Jon Snow darted through the throng, throwing himself forwards as she hurtled past, before grabbing the horse's halter, whilst on Jon's opposite side, Jory Cassel seized the horse at the same time, boy and man putting a swift stop to Joanna's wild progress between them.

"By the gods old and new, Joanna," Robb roared as he stalked over to where the now sullen Joanna sat astride the mare, skirts rucked up to her thighs, revealing an alarming expanse of pale bare leg, "have you taken leave of your senses as well as your modesty?"

Joanna's jaw tightened, but she said nothing, reluctantly allowing Jory to lift her down from the mare's back. Smoothing down her mud-splattered skirts, Joanna drew herself to her full height, meeting Robb's blazing blue gaze straight on. Despite Joanna being the elder, Robb was the one who held headship, assuming authority over his siblings, adopted or not, Joanna and Robb being raised as brother and sister after Eddard Stark had brought yet another Stark bastard into his fold.

Brandon Stark, wild and handsome, had made pretty promises to Joanna's mother that he couldn't keep, seducing her as he falsely spoke of seeking her hand in marriage. Joanna's mother had been the only child of an impoverished knight, and when wed, she would have brought no dowry or lands with her, only the honour of an ancient name nobody no longer cared to remember. Instead, Brandon was to wed another, forging an alliance with the House of Tully, and even as he knew he was to be a father, he had ridden to Riverrun regardless, only to receive the news his sister had been abducted by Rhaegar Targaryen, setting him on the road to war instead, ultimately leading to his end.

Joanna had been born during the height of Robert's Rebellion, her mother dying in childbed with her dead lover's name on her lips, Joanna being raised in the intervening years by her grandfather, Eddard Stark only setting eyes upon her once to assure himself she was Stark by blood if not in name, providing presents, clothes and most importantly an allowance that allowed them to keep body and soul together. Joanna had inherited her mother's hair and her father's grey gaze, but she knew no rule but her own, her grandfather trying and failing to shape her stubborn nature into more submissive lines. He had died when she was four years old, his heart giving out in the overgrown orchard that shadowed their ramshackle dwelling, leaving Joanna the last of her line.

Upon hearing his kin was in need, Eddard Stark had sternly set aside his wife's objections, and brought Joanna back to Winterfell to be raised alongside his own children, bastard and trueborn alike. He'd had no intention of undertaking Catelyn's suggestion of making Joanna a ward, delegating his duty to some distant lord. She was of his blood and he had been obliged to honour that, and so Catelyn now endured Joanna's presence just as she endured Jon's. With every waking hour, Catelyn was forced to face both her once betrothed's bastard and husband's bastard, their very existence an insult to her and hers.

As the courtyard cleared, Robb rounded on Joanna, his face bloodless. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" he snapped, making Joanna avert her eyes, mouth mutinous.

"Doesn't look like it," Jory observed, "but actions speak louder than words, don't they?" Exchanging a wry glance with Jon, he then led the trembling mare away, Robb watching them go before turning back to Joanna.

"You could have been killed, you know that!?" Robb bellowed, looming over Joanna, who just tilted her chin defiantly. "Are you really so intent on an early grave?"

"At least there's peace and quiet to be found in the grave," Joanna retorted, "I wouldn't be subjected to your fishwife tones for starters."

"Fishwife!?" Robb roared, suddenly grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a good shake, making the teeth rattle in her head. "I'll give you fishwife, you stupid wench!"

"Get off me!" Joanna yelled, tearing herself free, shoving Robb hard in the chest, making him stagger. "You're not my keeper!"

"Enough!" Jon shouted, throwing himself into the fray, dragging them apart. "We shouldn't fight amongst ourselves!"

"Save your breath, Snow," Robb growled, "she's always been outside the pack. She doesn't want to belong" -

- "How can a bastard belong, lordling?" Joanna hissed. "Not when Winterfell will fall into your lap like a ripe apple" -

Without another word, Robb turned and left, his furlined cloak whirling behind him. Joanna watched him go, her heart suddenly feeling hollow, realising too late she'd crossed an unspoken line by telling the truth. She knew what she was, what her place in the world would be, that Robb would inherit what might have been hers. Even as a bitter affection existed between them, Joanna knew status would soon tear them asunder, Robb rising in the world whilst she sunk even lower.

"Jo," Jon said quietly, holding out a ragged piece of cloth, "here."

"Ever the gentleman, aren't you?" Joanna sneered, wiping her eyes with the inside of her embroidered sleeve instead, the intricate stitching scraping her skin.

Flushing hotly, Jon hastily shoved the piece of cloth back in his pocket, her sneer striking him like a blow. "I was only trying to help," he said gruffly. "Why do you always bite a kind hand?"

"We're wolves."

"We're bastards," Jon said, exhaling sharply, "and Robb and the others aren't. We exist outside the pack just... just as Robb said."

"So?" Joanna said, shrugging her shoulders. "We make our own pack."

Jon looked at her for a long moment. "Robb doesn't want it to be that way," he said slowly.

"Oh really?" Joanna flared up, "What does he do when sweet Sansa sticks her nose up at us or when his mother makes us dine at separate tables" –

- "He tries," Jon said, rounding on her as Robb had, "he knows he can't change anything, but he tries anyways. "

"What does it matter if he tries or not?" Joanna spat, only for her head to suddenly jerk up, her grey eyes becoming shuttered.

Jon turned around, only to see Eddard Stark striding towards them, his face grim, Jory by his side, shoulders hunched. "I won't let him whip you," he said under his breath, stepping protectively in front of Joanna, even as he was quaking inside, "I promise."

Joanna didn't say anything, hiding her trembling hands behind her back, out of sight. Eddard, or Ned as he was known to those who swore loyalty to his sigil, dispensed harsh discipline on a daily basis, but he tempered his strictness with stern kindness.

"Joanna," Ned said abruptly, his gaze travelling over Jon, before coming to a rest on his niece, forcing her to step fowards, "what's this I hear of you taking out that mare without permission? Didn't I warn you to leave it be?"

Joanna bit her lip. "Yes, Uncle," she said, shifting from one foot to the next.

Ned studied her for a moment, before suddenly reaching out and cupping her chin. "You are not a child, anymore, Joanna," he said quietly, turning her face from side to side, studying her slanting eyes which changed moods like the sky, "but a woman, and you must start acting so. Do you hear me?"

Joanna stared at him, her brows drawing together, lending her a wolfish look. "You are not my father," she said from between gritted teeth, "so do not act so."

Ned let go of her, his large hand dropping to his side. "You are mine," he said simply, "as much as Sansa and Arya. So you will heed my words as they do, and obey them as they do. "

Joanna just looked away, fighting the tears threatening to fall again, feeling caught between what she was and what she should have been.

Ned looked at her, suddenly losing patience. "Go and change your gown," he snapped, "and don't bother coming down to dinner. Maybe an empty stomach will make you understand the error of your ways better than I can."

Joanna turned and left, gathering up her skirts as she ran, her pale hair rippling down her back like dying sunlight.

"Jon," Ned then said, turning to Jon, startling him, "I have need of you... son."

Jon froze, before straightening his spine, trying to look like the man he wanted to be rather than the boy he really was. "What do you require of me, Lord Stark?" he said stiffly, even as his lonely heart stored away the memory of this moment, when his father had called him 'son'.

"A guardsman just rode in from the hills," Ned said, exhaling sharply, "they've captured a deserter from the Night's Watch."