"I wish to go with you when you confront them," her voice is firm, as she looks up at Joanna Lannister.
The woman's jaw works, and Melara realizes she is grinding her teeth. She tsks her tongue. It is loud and sharp. Her hands flutter about her stomach. A nervous gesture in general, then , she thinks.
"Will you be able to stomach it?" asked the woman, voice gentle.
She is kind. Shrewd and sharp as a lioness defending her den- But Joanna Lannister is indeed kind. She is a complex creature. More so then Melara Before the Well had understood. But underneath that, she is kind . Kind perhaps despite her shrewdness. She knows what will follow will not be pretty. And she is giving her a free pass for what will happen, to avoid more ugliness. Melara is a child, only nine namedays.
Now that Melara had shown herself to be an injured cub instead of a stalking interloper, Joanna will fight on her behalf. Will protect her from what she can.
Melara sighed.
"If I can stomach their beatings and their poison, I can stomach my own justice."
Joanna's face softens.
"You do not have to do this, child."
Melara hummed.
"My words are ' We Find Strength '. It comes from the fact the simple oak spoon that our ancestor, Ser Leonine used to defend King Lannister on the Isle of Hethers. It comes from the fact that even something so small can be used to defend the might of a King. My bravery is my spoon," she laughed, "And I am my own King. I can only attempt to overcome them, My Lady, and I will be as they are in the North. The one who passed the sentence shall swing the sword, the one who let it be known of their crimes shall watch them pass the consequences. I will look them in the eye as I condemn them, Lady Joanna. I must ."
If she wanted to watch them suffer for her previous death, for all the times they had hurt her- Well. Melara could dress it up as prettily as she fucking wanted, screw anyone who thinks her unjustified.
Being beaten for just existing will make anyone blood thirsty.
"Very well, Lady Melara."
"I will ask, however, to have a ready knight at my side," she intoned, dryly, thinking of her Uncle's sword across her neck, "After all, my Uncle is the training hall at this hour. He is armed, and he is petty."
Motherfucker.
Joanna hummed.
"You wish to make a spectacle then? I could have him and his woman dragged to my Solar, and dead before the hour is out."
Part of her should feel horrified, she knew, as she looked at the shrewd gaze of Joanna Lannister. She was condemning two people to death by her actions. With only her injured back and her words alone as their swan song. She had memories of Earth. Death was not so easy to allow to happen. But she has memories of Westeros. Of rains and Castamere. She was in the Den of those who commanded such an act.
She could not afford weakness.
Cards on the table, bitch. These people will eat me alive if I show softness. And both Jeyne and my Uncle beat me, intending to murder me sooner or later. I cannot feel guilty of the death of people who intended to murder a child.
"Let everyone who thinks they can abuse a lady in the West witness the Lioness of it tare the witless worm who attempted it to pieces," she replied, coldly.
Joanna grinned. Lioness. Every single one of her teeth bared in her grim amusement.
"If you so wish."
A hand cupped her face.
Melara startled.
It was the kindest touch she had had in moons. Cersei's had been the gentlest before, and it had always been followed with some sort of pain, mild or not. Joanna's emerald eyes gleamed.
"I will pay back your debt, Melara Hetherspoon, you will have justice. And," she spoke gently, kindly, "You will be at my side from now on. You will be my charge, my ward, and no one will ever hurt you again. I swear it to you."
Melara feels her tears before they fall.
They fall.
And like all things, it takes time. All she had wanted to hear before the Well was that she would never again be hurt. It is agony to know all it would have taken was a single exposure of her injuries. And that the innocent girl from before the Well will never know them. Instead, it is her, this crone, this chimera of Melara and Not!Melara, in her place.
And it was told to her by a woman set to die only a few more months after her.
I will save you, Joanna Lannister. And I will consider that debt paid in full.
"Thank you, Lady Joanna. Truly ."