The Witch of Raventree Hall

Lady Joanna Blackwood was not a woman used to being passed over.

Why would she be? Her house was well-respected in both the Riverlands and the North. She was her father’s only daughter of marriageable age and had a generous dowry. She was beautiful, with her long, silky black hair and her clear blue eyes. She was intelligent and politically savvy. While she didn’t worship the Seven, she was still very pious when it came to the Old Gods. She was notably devoted to her family. 

And yet, Joanna thought, I’ve been ignored in favor of a Frey girl. What has the world come to?

She had an inkling that it wasn’t Lord Edmure’s desire to marry a Frey. The Tullys had never cared for the Freys, despite being their liege lords. Frankly, no one in the Riverlands cared for the Freys, for one reason or another. Joanna generally found them distasteful and morally repugnant, though she did like Lady Walda (also known as “Fat Walda,” though Joanna wasn’t about to call her such) well enough. The girl was entirely too timid, too honest, and clearly didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

But Lady Walda had been married to Lord Bolton, much to everyone’s shock, and Lady Roslin was to wed Lord Edmure.

Lady Roslin. Joanna had never hated anyone more.

A waif of a girl with eyes entirely too large for her face. Doe eyes, Joanna would say, if she were feeling kind. She was prettier than any other Frey that Joanna had met, it was true, though she could say little for her personality. She was rather quiet. Lady Walda seemed to get along with her, but Lady Walda could get along with anyone. Roslin seemed kind enough, and worse yet, Joanna doubted it was an act. She seemed terribly boring, in her opinion.

The worst thing about Lady Roslin, however, was that she stole Edmure from Joanna. For that, Joanna would never, ever forgive her.

Edmure, whom Joanna had been working on for nearing a year now. All the flirting, the discussions, the long walks…washed down the river and smashed on the rocks.

Edmure, whom Joanna was certain had been about to propose to her. She’d heard her father speaking with Lord Hoster and Edmure both about a betrothal prior to the elderly man’s passing.

Edmure, whom Joanna was unfortunate enough to love.

She hadn’t set out to love him. In truth, she’d just wanted a good match to better her family’s standing in the Riverlands, and Edmure was her best option. It helped that she found him handsome, with his fiery red hair and beard and strong arms. He was tall, though not quite as tall as her father or her elder brother Brynden, which suited her well since she was on the tall side for a woman. His smile was also rather nice…as was his scowl. Joanna didn’t even mind his moods. They could be annoying at times, she supposed, but she generally found them endearing. 

It was reasonably common knowledge that he was a bit of a fool. That suited her fine, as well—manipulating men was not particularly difficult, in Joanna’s experience, and he rarely, if ever, acted out of malice. Spite, perhaps, but not malice. He was generally a kind man, even if he tried to cover it up, at times.

However…as he was unmarried and, prior to the war they found themselves in, unpromised, Edmure was as weak as any man when it came to a pretty face. And Roslin Frey was certainly a pretty face.

Joanna would see her burn, if she could.

Her twin’s wary voice drew her back to the present.

“Jo?”

She turned her attention away from the window she’d been staring out of. Lucas was watching her suspiciously with blue eyes nearly identical to her own.

“You’re plotting,” he accused. When she feigned an innocent look, he shook his head in exasperation. “Yes, you. You might be able to fool Father and Brynden, but you can’t fool me.”

Joanna huffed, though it wasn’t with any real irritation. He was right, after all. Curse him.

“I’m simply thinking of Lady Roslin, is all,” she said. Had they not been alone in the library, she wouldn’t have mentioned the Frey girl at all. “Wasn’t it kind of them to invite us to the Twins for the wedding?”

“Jo…” Lucas sighed and, after glancing towards the entrance, sat down next to her at the window seat. “I want to say that they wouldn’t dare to slight you, but we both know the Freys are reveling in it.”

“The Lord of Riverrun, forced to wed a Frey,” Joanna muttered, scowling. “If only Robb Stark hadn’t married that girl. Then I’d have Edmure, not Roslin Frey.”

He took her hand and squeezed. “I know, but you have to be careful about how you speak of—”

Joanna stood abruptly, shaking him off. “I am perfectly respectful around others, and you know that, Lucas! But here, with just you and I, let me have this. Please.”

She turned away from him and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know I love Elra Stark like a sister, wherever she is now. If the gods be good, she’s alive. I would never truly speak ill of the Starks. I’m just…I’m so frustrated. And—gods, Luke, I’m heartbroken. What is wrong with me?”

“You love him,” her brother answered quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I will not go to the wedding.”

Lucas stood, then, and came to stand in front of her. After putting his hands on her shoulders, he insisted, “You must, Joanna! We’re sworn to his house. The King in the North will be there, and we’re closely aligned with his family, as well. This could be good for you, Jo. This could be closure.”

Once again, she wrenched herself out of his grip and raised her chin defiantly. “I will not go, Lucas. You can’t make me. Father could, but he won’t. He's angry, too. I will return to Raventree Hall and be with our younger siblings.”

“Jo, people will talk—”

“Let them! I have every right to be upset. Everyone knows that our match was as good as made, Luke. Gods, I think he even came close to loving me, but now he never will. I can’t bear to see the pity in people’s eyes. Go without me.”

Lucas had always known when she would not be swayed, and this time was no exception. Frustrated and resigned, he ran a hand through his black hair, and said, “This is a mistake, Jo, but fine. I’ll write to you after the wedding, alright? We’ll be marching to Casterly Rock afterwards.”

“Alright,” she said, the fight draining out of her. She tentatively took his other hand. “I love you, Luke. Please be careful, and watch out for Father and Brynden. I don’t want to lose you. Any of you.”

He drew her into a hug. “You won’t, Jo. I promise.”

Not a fortnight later, Joanna received the news of the Red Wedding. Edmure was taken hostage and Roslin was whisked away, both by the treacherous Freys. Robb Stark, his wolf, his wife, and his mother were slain. Many other soldiers and important house lords and ladies were killed, as well. And Lucas, her twin, her other half, was dead.

An hour after receiving the letter, Joanna made a vow before the weirwood tree. She would see the Freys rot, even if it was to be the last thing she did.