Chapter 16Notes:As a quick side note, no in cannon Daisy never names her Russian hacker ex, or genders them. But I went with it being a girl cause like...Daisy gives off massive bi energy. I'm just saying. But she does refer to a Russian hacker ex as being why she knows all the dirty words in Russian. So like, it's an actual thing.
Chapter TextFitz trimmed the leather belt he was being forced to use for generating power. He was being slightly more careful now. The number of times he'd stabbed himself with wire had left him slightly wary as he used a sharp knife to trim the belt. Just making his own tools was ridiculous, abhorrent he was having to work under these conditions. He carefully stopped and measured the width.
"Does the exact width matter that much?" Daisy asked from where she was sitting on his work table and twisting the wires as instructed. Her enhanced strength was proving useful.
He glared at her, missing the scandalized expression on his assistant's face. "I'm s-sorry, who's got a doctorate here?"
"Fine." Daisy shrugged as she continued her work. "I still think you're maybe going a little crazy for what's legit small potatoes shit that's cobbled together."
Fitz's jaw ticked. "Were you always this a-annoying?"
"It's a gift." Daisy winked. "Also did no one read you the story of the rabbit and the turtle or whatever?"
His spine straightened. "I'm n-not going to build an LMD. Not like I c-could anyways."
"Uh, not the concern." Daisy pulled her legs up under her, folding them easily as she stayed sitting on the table. "But I'm concerned now."
The assistant Snow spoke up cautiously. "Wha's an LMD?"
"A…" Fitz wasn't sure how to even begin to explain that to some poor peasant from the dark ages. Did the kid even know what a machine was? He looked at Daisy in confusion.
Daisy sighed. "A person made of metal with a coating of a skin that leaves them appearing human. They're all destroyed."
"Not my f-finest moment." Fitz stared at his hands. There'd been so much promise with that project. But he couldn't even think of trying to recover something usable without feeling sick at the thought. Not that anyone would let him. Maybe if he was in a proper lab, if Jemma was there to make sure it didn't go out of control.
Snow's eyes widened. "You made...people?"
"Evil ones that had to be put down." Daisy clarified.
He shifted. "They w-weren't inherently evil. I mean AIDA was…"
"Uh she was the worst. And you don't get to judge. I got stabbed and shot, twice! Also the torture. Not a good idea nerd."
He dropped his hands onto his hips. "She was a ch-child, she didn't know any b-better and considering how violent of a w-world we dropped her in she was surprisingly stable."
"You know that makes it creepier that you like got it on with her. And again she created hundreds of copies to murder us." Daisy had her 'you're stupid' voice on.
Fitz huffed. "Well at least I didn't fuck a vengeance demon."
"Who was an adult, and didn't try to kill us or conquer the world!"
He crossed his arms. "Ward and Miles."
"Rude." Her face scrunched up. "And not fair. Ward turned out to be a traitorous asshole before we got together. Also Svetlana is alive, reasonably well adjusted and not a dick."
He blinked. "Who?"
"My ex, hot Russian hacker, that's the reason I know a bit of Russian. Does no one listen when I throw stuff out there? It came up on that awful mission where Bobbie and Hunter got caught." Daisy spread her hands in the universal gesture of 'keep up'.
Fitz tilted his head. "Maybe stick to girls for a bit then? It might be safer for just everyone."
"Why in the world does Robbie bother you?" Daisy tilted her head.
He wanted to scream that she'd left them, hadn't wanted them, that everything that had gone wrong had started when she left. That she'd reached out to some murderous nobody and not the team. But the words just...didn't come out. Instead he was rather snide. "Oh I don't know, m-maybe the bit where he drags p-people to hell? Or maybe the fact he's on f-fire!"
"Only some of the time." Daisy shrugged. "And again not a person I made. You had some Pygmalion thing going on there."
Fitzed huffed. "T-that's not fair." He paused. "Wait, d-did you say Pygmalion? What's that?"
"Oh burn! Something the Doctor doesn't know." Daisy grinned. "But seriously greek myth? Nothing in that big brain of yours?"
He uncrossed his arms, dropping them to his hips again. "Fine, I m-may have skipped some of the classics for e-extra theoretical physics w-work." He couldn't help how he softened as they fell from whatever the near fight of snapping they'd been in back to familiar ground. "So what's a P-pygmalion then?"
////
Sansa waved the bread and salt forward. "Lord Cerwyn, you are always most welcome in Winterfell."
Cley Cerwyn was a haunted man. Only a few years her senior. He twitched, shoulders curled inwards, eyes shifting about at every person nearby. He wore his wounded spirit visibly. But then his was near as fresh as her own horrors. "No need for a room, My Lady." He bowed his head slightly as he took the bread and salt, eating it hurriedly. Barely chewed it really.
"Of course, though what hospitality I am able to provide is yours should you change your mind." Sansa gestured for him to enter the gates. He'd refused to do so without bread and salt. "At least allow us to provide some warm soup to you and your men."
He nodded, and followed her through the gates and into the courtyard. His eyes naturally tracked to where the flayed corpses of the Bolton's victims had once hung.
"I'm sorry all I could return to you were their bodies." Sansa didn't mention the last she'd seen him, he had been there to witness her marriage to Ramsey. Not that he'd had any choice in the matter.
Cerwyn cleared his throat. "I'd have come sooner."
"You don't owe me an explanation." She caught his eye. "We both know what it meant to suffer under their mercy."
He ducked his head again.
Sansa accepted it would be a silent walk into her solar before she'd hear why he'd come unexpectedly. It was good to walk through the yard, to see people going about their tasks. The smell of fresh cut wood, the burning of the smithy, clean straw. Her home was clean, rebuilding, full of life and it was heartening. To know she'd built this, done this.
As they entered the hall Cerwyn paused. The stone blocking the noise from outside. "I don't plan to be here long. Just a few words with you and I'll go."
"Of course." She could tell this would not be going in a way that would be advantageous to her or her plans. However the late Lord Cerwyn, his wife and brother had all been flayed alive for their loyalty to House Stark. For that she would not turn on him unless she had no other option.
The remaining journey to her solar was silent. Once the door closed leaving them, Brienne and a servant who was tending to the fire he finally spoke.
"I received your reward, as well as promise of more. I don't want it." He shifted awkwardly, but his tone hadn't been doubtful.
Sansa folded her hands before her. "Winter is on our doorstep as well as war. Your House remained loyal when few others did."
"I know that." He looked up. "But we have enough to keep us. And I don't have an army to give you, or men enough to rule any added land you intend to give me." Cerwyn looked at the floor. "I did nothing. It was my father who was loyal."
Sansa felt a flicker of understanding then. Guilt. "You did what you had to do in order to survive."
"It doesn't change...It wouldn't be honorable to accept." He settled on after a painful pause.
She knew what he was then. A boy who wished to live up to the shadow of a father who'd cast a perfect appearing shadow, especially once venerated by death. And beyond that someone terrified and ashamed by what that terror had forced him to do. Of course that meant she knew how to offer what he truly wanted. Honor, pride, revenge. "Then earn it."
"What?" He didn't flinch at her change in tone, but it was a near thing.
Sansa didn't allow herself to show the slightest flicker of weakness. "You believe your father's legacy shouldn't be rewarded for his sacrifice, honor and loyalty. So prove you're worthy of what he died for. He died for House Stark, so you can live for it."
"I…" His eyes were wide as he stared at her.
But she'd already won. "You say you have no army, but I don't need an army most of all. I need loyal men." Sansa refused to release him from her attention. "I'm surrounded by Houses that bowed, men who once served my enemies without paying a blood price first. The North is fractured, the South will not leave us long and my brother Jon brings tidings of the Long Night come again. Tell me Lord Cerwyn, where would your father who died in my family's name expect you to be?"
"I can't protect you." He was shaken though. Only needed to be guided by the hand to the place she needed him.
So Sansa gave him the purpose he required. "Your name. The presence of a loyal Lord who I can depend on." She'd never trust him, not when she knew how easily his dreams of honor could be twisted. "A House's banner at my back when I ride to rid our lands of traitors who allowed the North to fall. Allowed our families to be killed. A Cerwyn standing behind a Stark as there has always been for thousands of years."
Sansa wondered if she should feel guilt for what she'd just done? She didn't though. Her father would, her mother likely too. But it'd been necessary and now Lord Cerwyn was praying at the gods wood while his men settled into the rooms she'd ordered prepared. "Will you be returning to White Harbor Lord Manderly?"
"Not unless you wish me to." Wyman laid his hand over hers. "I failed you, I failed your family. I won't do it again. I'll remain by your side till your position is secure M'Lady. My son can see to White Harbor till then. It'll be good for him."
She eyed the large man, his white hair and familier countenance. She gave a slight nod. "Your aid is appreciated. And will not be forgot."
"Aye, well I don't need anything so don't go getting any ideas there." He chuckled fondly. "Now about Moat Cailin and the two houses here, what's the plan?"
Sansa considered him. She didn't trust him. But he was likely her strongest ally at the moment. He'd thrown his lot in with her as well as he could without proposing a marriage alliance. One neither of them had individuals of appropriate ages to form in the first place. "Jon is needed for that conversation." She raised a brow. "Why haven't you brought up a marriage alliance? It's the easiest and fastest way to secure my position. But you haven't suggested it."
"No I haven't." Wyman settled back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "Do you need to know why?"
He was her closest and greatest support. "Yes I do."
"At first because of the bastard. No one deserves whatever he did to you and throwing a third husband at you just a couple of moons afterwards is cruel." He gave a nod as he spoke, his brow furrowed. "And then who would I suggest? You'll have the Flints, Hornwoods, Umbers, Loches, Manderlys, Glovers, Hornwoods, Reeds, and a half dozen more just by right of your name and what you've done so far. I reckon given a few more moons you'll have a dozen more firmly in your grasp. And that's before they all realize the Long Night is coming. Which House requires a marriage on top of all that to swear? None of them that's which one."
Wyman looked at her with something that might be pride. "A good strong man who can lead beside you is who you need if you're to marry. Not some political hostage exchange for stability. Thought I'd wait to see which noble lad proves himself in the coming moons. But then, I'd say you have a suitor not even a proper match like that would be worth turning down for."
"I don't have a suitor. What are you talking about?" She frowned slightly. There was nearly no way that he could know of Petyr's obsession.
He was serious as he replied. "I know you've noticed, especially with how much time you spent down south. There are very few reasons a god would act the way that one does. I can believe she'd accept your hospitality for her companion's sake. I can even be persuaded she'd find giving you some aid on a whim. But bowing to you? Placing your wants and goals above her own dignity? Performing feats of service in your name? That's not something I can believe unless she's come to regard you quite highly. And high regard only goes so far unless she intends to earn something with that regard."
"That does not mean she means to court me." Sansa replied, possibly too quickly. She just… gods she couldn't.
Wyman spoke, his voice gentle. "Perhaps court is the wrong word? She hadn't made it a secret she doesn't intend to remain here. Woo? Seduce maybe? But either way she's got eyes for you."
"She's made no mention of it, made no advances or indication that's something she wants." Which was why Sansa hadn't assumed. Daisy was...surprisingly upfront about things. Surely she would be about something of this nature as well?
He nodded. "Maybe you're right. But if you are that leaves the question, why does she defer to you like nothing more than a sworn knight?"
"I don't know. But I believe you are mistaken in this matter." Sasa desperately hoped he was. If he wasn't...she couldn't do it. The idea of giving her body to someone again like that made her feel nauseous. She knew she'd have to marry someday, but not now. Not...soon. So long as it was avoidable she intended to avoid it.
Wyman deferred, but she could see he didn't agree. "As you wish my Lady."
Sansa rose brushing her skirts straight automatically. "I appreciate your council. It does not leave this room however?"
"I wouldn't dream of it, My Lady." He hesitated for a second. "You have my support regardless of the truth or your response to the matter."
She blinked, he'd just offered to stand by her in the case of her rejecting a god. Whether he meant it or not it was...she was inclined to believe he thought he meant it. "Thank you for your time Lord Manderly."
Sansa paused as she realized she wasn't the only one in the gods wood. She straightened. "Your Holiness, I was not expecting you."
"Hey." Daisy looked over her shoulder at her. "I can go if you want privacy to pray."
Sansa shook her head, just stepping closer to the heart tree. "I haven't prayed in a long time." She looked at the god. "Why do you come here?"
"It feels...I don't know." Daisy shrugged, closing her eyes. "I can feel it though. Like a song just out of hearing. It's hypnotic really." Her eyes opened as she breathed out. "I guess it's peaceful."
Her gaze turned to the face set into the white bark of the tree. "It was the one place in King's Landing where people didn't try to talk to me."
"If that's a hint there's some future cult members I can go make run some more laps." Daisy's question seemed genuine.
She didn't look away from the gaping mouth leaking red sap. "Lord Manderly and I discussed my marriage."
"Are you ok?" Daisy was facing her fully now, a hand reached but didn't touch her.
Sansa wondered at that, she realized the god hadn't touched her since that day when the Boltons had died. Memories she did not wish to dwell on. "I'm surprised it took this long for the topic to be broached."
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to." Daisy's voice was firm.
She turned to meet the focus of the god. And she wondered. "Don't I?"
"Not..not that." Daisy's face was...she cared. "No one deserves that. What can I do to ensure you're not forced into a marriage you don't want?"
Sansa realized in that moment that she didn't feel threatened. She was unsure at the truth of Wyman's words, an idea even she'd considered. There was certainly something going on with the god she didn't quite grasp. But she didn't feel the prickle at the back of her neck she felt around Petyr, or any of the men who'd desired her. It was dangerous, but a relief as well. "There are no marriage options worth losing it as a future tool."
"You should be allowed to marry who you want." Daisy frowned.
Sansa wondered at the world this god must have come from to think of an arranged marriage as an injustice. "Were you never expected to marry?"
"No." She laughed. "Not sure if I'm the marrying kind." Daisy's voice was humorous but it was clearly a mask in its own way.
She couldn't understand that. "How? Surely one of your position has suitors, alliances for your people."
"Sure?" Daisy rolled her eyes. "I have just been ignoring Deke and hoping he goes away with his pining. It'd be super creepy. He's Fitz and Jemma's grandson." She waved a hand. "It's complicated. But I'm not interested so it doesn't really matter. And sure people take a pass now and then but it's easy enough to turn them down."
Sansa wondered at the implied power to simply be able to ignore suitors. To know marriage was simply a thing to be chosen if wanted. "Surely none would dare turn you down if you wished for a person."
"You'd be surprised." Daisy brushed some of her hair behind one ear. "But what can you do? Sometimes people just don't feel the same way."
Sansa breathed out slowly. "That is very Dornish of you."
"Yeah the Dornish seem pretty chill from what I've heard." Daisy paused, her eyes flicking towards the north, her posture shifting. Her eyes closed as she dropped to the ground, her hand flattening to it.
////
Daisy could feel the vibrations of the world around her. It'd taken hours, weeks to even begin to properly parse out things. But she could feel a vague presence of others. Especially here where the tree and its roots made the rest of the world feel...more clear almost in contrast to the oddness of the magic tree's song. And she could feel it, in the distance. The vibrations of hundreds of men and horses. They were moving closer. Her eyes opened. "I think Jon is back."
"Are you sure?" Sansa questioned.
She shook her head. "No, but we knew he'd be returning soon. If it's not him I'll handle it." It may be an army, but it wasn't so large of one she'd run the risk of doing horrific damage in handling it. Daisy stood up. "Come on, someone will spot them soon and come find you."
Daisy grinned at the sight of marching Stark banners approaching down the road towards Winterfell. She'd been right. And based on her recent reading the other banners she was spotting were Glover, Mormont and a few of the smaller house's from the north. Actually, that was Umber banners she was pretty sure. "So, looks like Jon did it."
"He's come back." There was a weight to Sansa's words. A relief and gaping chasm of affection.
Daisy was glad the broody guy'd done it. And it helped that Sansa's powerbase was growing. She spotted the front riding party that was ahead of the march. The black garbed rider was almost assuredly Jon. "Good for you."
As they watched it became unmistakable that it was indeed Jon come back. Daisy stayed in the background as Sansa left to stand in the courtyard to welcome the incoming men. She knew standing too close to the lady would be a problem. No one needed to think Sansa was her puppet or some nonsense. She really hated politics. Which was probably why Coulson hadn't used her for inter-agency meet and greets.
She glanced at Joran who was standing beside her. "So, that's basically all the Houses we were hoping he'd bring back?"
"I believe so." He pointed to some of the banners. "Those there aren't Northern, must be survivors of Stannis's army." He winced as he moved. "Uh...are any of us going to feel our arms again properly?" There was some tiny flicker of hope there.
Daisy nudged the poor guy slightly. "Yeah it goes away. It's the feeling of your muscles repairing themselves stronger than before. No pain, no gain. Which a bit miserable, but unfortunately the truth."
"Right." He squared his shoulders. "It's an honor to be trained by you, your Holiness."
She was proud of her men, even if their presence freaked her out a bit. "We'll have to make sure you all can read."
"Truly?" His eyes widened as he looked at her in surprise.
Daisy hummed. "It'll help you all. And I can't just make you run laps and do pull ups all day."
"I'll let the men know." Joran's chest puffed with pride. His unofficial position as leader of the men was clearly a point of great pride to him.
She smiled slightly as she returned her attention to where the front riders had just entered the courtyard. As the men dismounted she noticed Sansa had taken a half step forward almost as if she couldn't help it. Which was...odd. Especially from someone as tightly controlled as the redhead. Daisy was about to ask Joran if he knew, only to still as a kid stepped past Jon. Tall, nearly as tall as Jon really, but clearly a kid from this distance. But fairly unremarkable, his clothing less fine than the others that'd just entered.
Only Sansa clearly recognized something in the kid Daisy didn't. Because she ran, catching the kid in her arms. There were murmurs, as the kid and Sansa clung to each other.
Daisy dropped from the ramparts to the courtyard and glared to ensure no one was stupid enough to interupt them. She might not know exactly what was happening, but she knew family reunited. The desperate touch, the open emotion apparent on the Lady of Winterfell for the second time since Daisy had met her.
Jon stepped over, wrapping his arms around both of them. The three just clinging to each other. Tears on more than one cheek.
She didn't need to ask to know the kid was a Stark. And it ached to witness. Her eyes tracked to where Fitz was standing by the entrance to his workshop. When had her family ceased to be this, and become what it was now? It was painful to see, but she was happy for them. So unbearably happy for her friend.
Chapter 17Notes:I'm not a sports person....however my two best friends are massive sports people and I am their helpless third wheel on their platonic sport dates. I don't even have the comfort of setting them up. One is female and ace and the other is a dude and gay as hell. I'm going to two pro baseball games this week. Also I now know who the best hitters on our team are....and their batting averages. Life is wild.
Chapter TextSansa brushed Rickon's curls away from his cheek as he slept. She couldn't bear to look away from his face, afraid he'd disappear if she did. Her throat was thick with tears. She stayed sitting on the side of the bed.
"He's half wild." Jon sat in the chair by the fire. The warmth and security of his presence, a balm to the room.
She smiled, memories of her tiny brother biting anyone who held him too long. "He always was, like Arya was." Which he was as old as Arya had been when they'd left for King's Landing. They'd all been so young.
"Aye, he always was a biter wasn't he?" Jon chuckled. "He won't be parted from the woman who's raised him. Her name's Osha."
Sansa didn't consider that an issue. "She'll be given a position in the household. I'd give her anything she wanted for keeping him alive."
"He can't read, or write." Jon looked uncomfortable. "We'll have to protect him or the Lords will eat him alive. They won't like he's Wildling raised."
Sansa's brow furrowed as she looked back to her baby brother. "He needs a regent, will need one for years to come." She bit the inside of her lip as she thought through the issues they'd face with a boy Lord. It wouldn't be easy. But between her and Jon they could do it. "We can protect him. If the three of us don't allow them to turn us against each other we can do it."
"So what, you're regent and I lead our armies for you?" He just looked tired. "Once we've retaken Moat Calin we can turn our attention to the dead."
Sansa knew he wasn't going to like what came next. "No, we can't."
"What are you talking about? That's the last hold of Frey or Bolton men in the North." Jon was wary then, a look she didn't like to see on his face.
She kept her voice soft to avoid waking Rickon. Not that she thought he would wake for anything short of yelling. The deep even breaths raising and lowering his chest reassured her he was deeply asleep. "We need the united North to stand a chance. Am I wrong?"
"The North will be united with the last of the Bolton forces gone. They'll follow House Stark, they're good and loyal men." Jon's voice was pained and so incredibly sure he spoke the truth.
Sansa refused to allow her brother's idiotic idealism get them killed. "We cannot afford to have our own men turn on us. If we ignore treachery and forgive wrongs done to us we'll look weak. The North won't follow a weak leader."
"So what, you want to attack the Karstarks, Ryswells, and Dustins? Add to the death. We can't fight three of our own Houses and the dead and the South."
"No we can't." She straightened her skirts. "I'm not a soldier but if our home is not in order we'll face enemies without as well as within."
Jon hands fisted over his knees. "We'll earn their loyalty with mercy."
"Our ancestors didn't win the North with mercy. The Ironthrone wasn't forged with mercy, father didn't win the rebellion with mercy. Did your mercy earn your brothers' loyalty Jon? Because they stabbed you."
He breathed out slowly. "What are you planning?"
"We offer terms to House Dustin and House Ryswell that will strengthen our position and ensure in the coming war they have no choice but to fight the dead." Sansa knew the next part would be what Jon would oppose the most. But it was the most needed. "And House Karstark cannot be allowed to continue. They're the greatest threat to our position, they abandoned Robb, those who stayed fought side by side with the Boltons."
Jon stared at her, his face solemn. "You mean to make an entire house extinct."
"I've already spoken to the Umbers. They've agreed to send their forces to join a group of men led by you to take the Karhold. Lord Mandery and the Flints have agreed to ensure our army remains large enough to handle the Dustins and Ryswells." Sansa's voice remained matter of fact. She needed Jon to lead their army after all. It wasn't something she could lie or hide from him.
He shook his head. "Does my opinion even matter?"
"Yes, but I'll do it myself if I have to."
////
Jon's fist slammed into the stone wall as he breathed heavily as the door to the cellar closed behind him. It'd been the only place he'd be able to avoid others. And he just...what was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave his last living sister and brother. But what Sansa was planning was...it would just bring more pointless death. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a throat clearing.
"So...hi?" A very bemused sounding Daisy greeted.
He stared at where the god was perched in one corner with a lantern and a book. "What are you doing in here?"
"I mean you're here too." She pointed out, eyes twinkling in the low light. "But I don't know if you've noticed but everyone thinks I'm a god. It's nice to get away. You?"
He splayed his hand across his face, closing his eyes and just groaned. "Do you know what my sister plans?"
"Uh probably?" Daisy set her book aside.
Jon walked over and dropped onto some grain sacks near her. "Destroying House Karstark and marching on House Ryswell and Dustin."
"Ah, yeah I knew about that. It was pretty obvious she intended to from like...before you left? This is news to you?" She looked genuinely confused.
He scoffed. "I really do know nothing."
"You clearly know how to keep your hair super clean and pretty. Just saying." She held up her hands in mock surrender at his glare.
Jon couldn't help it then, he huffed. "Yes well, thanks?"
"You're welcome." Daisy shifted so her legs were folded under her. "Wanna like talk about it?"
He stared at her and well...what did it matter to a god? And wasn't prayer talking to gods? If there was an appropriate person to ask advice from, it was this god. "None of this matters except for the dead. It's the only battle that matters. All the rest...we don't have time or the resources to lose."
"Ah, yeah I've been there." She leaned back against the wall. "You want to do the right thing, the good thing."
Jon was relieved she understood what he meant. "It's the only way forward. Once they know the threat is the dead it won't matter if they like us or not, they'll fight."
"People aren't organizations." Daisy hummed, her fingers playing at the hem of one of her sleeves. "People can be good, and do the right thing, the smart thing. Organizations like your Houses...eh?" Her voice pitched up and she wiggled a hand.
It was….he didn't understand almost any of what she'd just said. Which she spoke so oddly. Her meaning was...mostly understandable? He frowned. "You believe Sansa is right, the Lords won't come when called, even for the Long Night."
"You people prize your stubborn pride. And your sister is showing mercy." Daisy unfolded herself, feet hitting the ground. She held out her hand to him. "Come on."
He hesitated, but reached out and took her hand. Jon barely kept from reacting at how easily she hauled him to his feet. "Strong grip."
"Yeah I'm still getting used to that." Daisy shrugged. "Come on."
Jon quietly followed behind her as she led him through the halls. He recognized they were moving towards the Maester's chambers. He frowned, wondering at what she wanted to show him. But he held his tongue. As they reached the several rooms set aside for the seriously ill he realized there was a guard standing before one of the doors.
The guard straightened at the sight of them. "Your Holiness, Lord Stark!"
Jon opened his mouth to correct the man, he was a Snow not a Stark. He wheezed as the god's elbow slammed into his gut.
She smiled pleasantly. "Hogg, why don't you go find some more bruise cream for the men. I'll remain till you get back."
"Oh course Holiness." He bowed before scurrying off.
Jon raised a brow, that was concerning the men answered to this god so automatically. He'd have to look into that. For now though, he curiously followed the god into the room.
It was a small room, though cozy, a fire in the hearth and a large rug on the floor. It was furnished simply but nothing was in ill repair. In the middle of the room was a cradle. Daisy easily walked to the cradle and lifted the swaddled babe. She poked its nose with a gentle flick, before turning towards him as she cradled the babe.
She looked at him as she held the rosy cheeked child. "This is Torrhen Bolton."
Jon's breath froze in his throat, he knew exactly who this child was then and he...he couldn't hate the babe. He doubted he was capable of that. It was a healthy looking babe though, it's clear blue eyes blinking at him. "I see."
"Walda was escorted to White Harbor and from there will be taken to the silent sisters. Of course she was given two weeks to recover some before she was removed." Daisy shifted the babe so that it was against her chest and began to bounce slightly as she rubbed its back. "I believe your sister intends for the Mormonts to take this little guy once he's big enough to travel."
Jon stepped closer. He carefully held out a hand, touching a single finger to the babe's cheek. He understood why he'd been shown this mercy then. "Thank you."
"Anytime." Daisy hummed as she carefully made an odd rocking movement to lull the babe back to sleep. "And as someone who nearly got two of my best friends killed because I couldn't kill a traitor, once a traitor willing to kill friends pretty much dependably traitor for life."
"The dead are coming. How can that not be enough for us to put aside our grievances with each other? None of it matters. Just the living and the dead." Jon's hands tightened as he stared at the ground.
Daisy gave his statement real thought before answering. "People aren't logical, not really. When your sister thought I was going to kill her she stabbed Ramsy thirty seven times. You've died and still are going to fight anyways. Logic isn't...it's not why we do things. Not really. I wanted to 'save the world', but I ended up just trying to save the people I loved."
"If you're right then there is no hope." Jon stared into the fire, the light flickering as it warmed the room in a way he never felt in his bones any longer.
She huffed. "I'm saying you should listen to your sister. She's trying to help you save the world, just with a lot less faith in the goodness of mankind." Daisy caught his eye as he looked up. "She's named you Jon Stark, you know?"
"What? But…" Jon trailed off as he swallowed down the jolt of emotion. His sister didn't have the authority to legitimize him. But if she'd been naming him a Stark before Rickon's return...it meant she'd risked her right to Winterfell, for him. Because she cared. Jon hesitated to leave. "If I may, I believe I need to speak with my sister."
"Go, I've got baby B." Her lips twitched. "Babies are easy. 'Sides, I'm good with them."
His face was soft as he looked at them. "Thank you."
"Anytime." She raised a hand, wiggling her fingers. "Now shoo."
Jon paused in front of Sansa's room. He sighed, and then raised his hand and knocked softly on the door. He opened the door and let himself in, he knew Sansa would still be awake. His mouth tightened slightly as he saw her bent over missives at their father's desk. Rickon still sleeping in her bed. She also very pointedly wasn't looking up.
He closed the door behind him. Walking towards her desk he took the seat in front of it. "Alright, explain it to me. I'll listen properly this time."
"Why should I believe you?" Sansa looked up from her writing at him.
Jon sighed. "Because I can be an idiot. But you're my sister, and I know you wouldn't want to play politics if it wasn't important."
Sansa set her quill down. "We can't rule like father or Robb did. The world's changed and they couldn't survive it. Our grandfather, uncle and aunt couldn't survive it."
"You mean to take us back to how the Starks of old ruled." Jon leaned back in his seat. They were of one of the oldest bloodlines in all of Westeros. He wasn't a fool, he'd heard the lessons of Brandon the Builder, The Night's King, Brandon the Breaker, King Theon Stark, the men who'd crushed the other Kings of the North through entire houses wiped off the map. There was a reason they'd been the Kings of Winter and it hadn't been their honor, or their mercy. "Sansa…" He felt heavy as he accepted she was likely right.
She raised a brow. "It was how our house brought our people through the first Long Night."
"Sansa...the men all call me Stark." It hadn't really struck him till Daisy had informed him, but it was true. It wasn't just a few small folk mistaking things they knew little about.
"You are a Stark, the oldest living son of Eddard Stark." Her chin tipped up ever so slightly as if daring him to argue with her.
He couldn't...it meant everything. "You don't have the power to legitimize me."
"Who will stop me?" Sansa's brow rose ever so slightly. "I say you're a Stark and we have a god around somewhere who will sign a document legitimizing you if we ask." She paused slightly. "We should ensure we do that. Not even the King can contradict a god."
Perhaps if he hadn't died, hollowing him out. Or perhaps if he hadn't already spent his tears at the sight of Rickon and his sister safe in his arms in Winterfell, he'd have cried. It'd been his dream since he was a boy to bear the name of Stark. But it wasn't that that made his heart feel like it'd swollen in his chest. It was that it meant Sansa trusted him enough for this. Perhaps not as they should trust each other, but in her own way. "Alright. What do we need to do?"
////
Rickon's eyes flicked up the walkway above the yard to where his sister stood where once he thought his father and mother had stood. His eyes returned to where Jon was standing. He bounced on his toes, raising his sword. His blood was up at the chance to fight his brother. His lips pulled back, baring his teeth. And then he lunged forward.
Jon blocked and then knocked him back. "You don't have the strength to overpower me yet."
Rickon grinned and bounced forward, swinging his sword upwards. As Jon's sword struck his, he grabbed Jon's sword hand. He lunged over the swords, teeth bared for his brother.
Jon's hand grabbed him by the front of his clothes and tossed him back. "Defend, don't just attack." He approached then swung his sword in easy strikes.
Stumbling, arms shaking from the force of it, Rickon skidded around the ground. Ducking and jumping he tried to circle his brother for a chance to attack at his back. Sweating, he slid under Jon's strike, then leaping for him teeth bared, in an attempt to stab him with a dulled dagger. He'd had to drop his sword for the chance.
Jon grabbed his dagger holding hand. Bringing his sword to Rickon's throat. "Yield."
"I yield." Rickon slumped.
Jon chuckled, letting him go and ruffled Rickon's hair. "Better."
Rickon's chest puffed up as he basked under his brother's approval. He grinned at his older brother, he'd proved he was useful. "Can we go again?"
"In a bit, watch the others first. You'll learn watching them." Jon gently pushed him to a sawhorse where some of the men were watching. He turned to Mors Umber. "What about you my Lord?"
Mors grabbed an axe, striding towards Jon. "Aye, I'll try fighting you."
Rickon hopped up on the sawhorse. He frowned, nose twitching as something he couldn't parse out drifted past his nose. His eyes went up to where Sansa was still watching from the walkway above them. He smiled, and let himself fade into Shaggydog. It was safe to investigate the strange smell.
His paws padded across the ground as he loped through the field outside the walls of Winterfell. It was both his home and not his home. Claws digging into the earth, he pressed his nose near the earth as he made his way through the gates, ignoring the guards. As his nose snuffled at the inside of the yard he could smell it better. It was some creature he'd never smelt before. It was similar enough to human that when he was just Rickon he might not have noticed it properly.
But as Rickon who was also Shaggydog? As this him he could smell the differences. There was something fundamentally different about the scent from human scent. The familiar scent of Osha distracted him. He trotted towards his female pack member. Bumping his head against her hand.
"What are you doing in there Little Wolf?" Osha looked at him knowingly as she scratched behind one ear.
His tongue lulled as he enjoyed the quick scratch. He then broke away, back after the strange smell. It had a burn to it...like the scent from just before lightning struck mixed with coal. So faint though, nearly human. Maybe someone had rolled in coal a few days ago? Best check though, if it was a threat he wouldn't have it in their home. His body was safe, this strange smell needed locating.
As he padded around men, sniffing the air he realized he was closing in on where his body was. Coming to the edge of the fighting ring he saw Jon and Mors battling in the yard. Jon winning with amazing skill at the sword. It was incredible to see. But a flash of something he didn't recognize caught his eye besides his body.
With a gasp his body that was just Rickon's head snapped to the side. Where a person was leaning against the sawhorse he was seated on. His eyes widened as he looked at her. "You're not human."
She laughed, eyes bright and amused. "No I'm not." The not human held out her hand. "My name's Daisy."
"Rickon." He hesitantly took her hand squeezed, a furrow in his brow. Was this how Southerners greeted each other? "What are you?"
Daisy's laughter continued as she warmly squeezed his hand. Then instead of releasing his hand, she held his and suddenly from his hand traveling all the way to the tips of his toes to the top of his head was buzzing with...something.
"Wha…" His mouth opened in confusion.
She released his hand, the buzzing vanishing as it'd come. "You should be watching your brother, not me."
His cheeks burned as his head snapped back to the fight. Rickon couldn't help it, his human mouth smiling at the sight of Jon knocking Mors on his arse. He remembered watching a younger Jon fighting Robb in the yard. In his home, by his siblings' it felt like pack.
"Your brother is an amazing swordsman." Daisy remarked casually
Rickon frowned as he was reminded of the not human. He looked at her, lips pulling back, low growl in the back of his throat. "I won't let you hurt my family."
"Then it's a good thing I consider your sister a friend. And probably your brother as well given more time around his pouting." Daisy nudged his attention back to where Mors and Jon were going again. "They're good people."
Rickon, focused on the fight. His brother was a wolf, watching, waiting and then striking. "You better be telling the truth."
"You can ask your brother when he's done kicking their butts. Look at how he's controlling the fight." She narrated. "He draws him in, and then attacks."
Rickon watched as Jon did just that, deflecting an axe blow only to step forward punching Mors in the face. "How do I beat him then?"
"You don't." Daisy chuckled. "Not yet, you don't commit to an attack unless you know it'll hit."
He nodded, he could do that. "What else?"
"You're smaller than him. You won't beat him with a sword. He's got you on reach." She flipped a knife over in her fingers before passing it hilt forward over. "Try to get close. Swords are harder to use up close."
Rickon looked at her and then nodded. "Thanks." Hopping off the sawhorse he waited for Mors to hit the ground again. He darted forward. "Can I try again now?"
Mors laughed loudly, the sound booming outwards. "Boy's got the wolf's blood!"
"Aye, he does." Jon chuckled looking at him with so much affection it filled Rickon full to bursting. "Alright, let's see if you learned anything from Mors here. But then we're going in to eat or our sister will have my head for starving you."
Rickon laughed brightly as he hung onto his brother's back. "I'll beat you."
"I'm sure you will." Jon huffed fondly. "You need some practice first."
He buried his nose into the fur rough of Jon's cloak, burying his smile in the tickling of it against his skin. He was home.
Chapter 18Notes:Is this chapters like six hours early? Yes. But eh, here we are.
Chapter TextDaisy knocked on the Maester's door, before letting herself in. He probably wasn't even in his room at the moment. Well, store room not bedroom. She wasn't spying on the man, though she should probably take a quick glance at his things if she had the chance. She hummed as she looked at the various dried herbs, and glass jars of odds and ends used for what was...theoretically medicine to these people.
She groaned. Damn, nothing was labeled. Daisy closed her eyes, her senses had registered something. Ah, heartbeat from the attached room. A few seconds later she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps and breathing announcing the approaching person. "Sorry for rooting around your stuff."
"Ah, do you require assistance, your Holiness?" Wolkan asked, hiding his surprise shockingly well.
Daisy turned to face him. "I was looking for some plants, thought you might have a few you wouldn't mind me nabbing."
"Of course, what are you seeking?" Wolkan approached respectfully, his heart beating far too fast no matter how hard he was trying to hide it.
She smiled, hoping to put him at ease. "Do you have dandelion roots?" He frowned slightly. "Uh..small yellow flowers? They turn all fuzzy and the seeds blow off? Super hard to get rid of? You do have those right?"
"Yes, we have them." He chuckled, stepping to one of the corner shelves and opening a drawer. Pulling out a package he set it on a small side table. Unwrapping it, he revealed the roots. "Is this enough?"
Daisy sighed, stepping closer only to pause. "Is this important? I'm fine if you don't have any to spare."
"No, I don't use it much." Wolkan rewrapped the roots and then held them out.
She accepted them and held his gaze. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." He moved to closing the drawer he'd taken the roots from. "If I might be permitted, what do you require it for?"
"Tea." Daisy carefully stuffed the package into an inner pocket in her jacket. "It's not 'proper' tea, but I've been living with a Fitzsimmons for too many years not to have picked up a like of it. And well, Fitz is Scottish. They drink tea like you people drink wine."
Wolkan stepped to a different cupboard. "Tea? We have tea, though I've never heard of dandelion root used for it."
"Wait you do? Not a super rare expensive thing right?" Daisy had no interest in bankrupting people because she wanted some tea. She'd kill for coffee. "Do you have coffee?"
Wolkan shook his head. "It's similar to the cost of a bottle of wine. We purchase it from Essos along with most of our spices. Unfortunately I don't know what coffee is."
"It's made from dark beans. You roast them, grind them, then boil them. It tastes rich and bitter and supes delicious." She explained hopefully. "I'd do terrible things for a cup of coffee."
"I'm afraid I don't know of what you speak. I could make inquiries if you wish?" Wolkan offered, as he lifted a ceramic jar and held it out.
She accepted the jar, lifting the lid, and beamed at the sight of tea leaves. She breathed in, closing her eyes at the smell. Fuck, Jemma and Fitz's love of the stuff was contagious apparently. But caffeine had always been a weakness. "Oh thank god."
"You're most welcome." Wolkan sounded amused.
Her eyes opened as she looked at the Maester. "How can I repay you for this?"
"No repayment necessary, it's an honor to serve." He had a barely there frown on his face.
Daisy looked at the man carefully. "Is something bothering you?"
"It's just...are the Seven real?" And ah, crisis of faith.
Shrugging, she closed the lid on the jar of tea. "I don't know. I'm not even sure I am a god." Her mouth twitched at the disbelief on his face. "I'm not human, and my...kind? have been worshipped, some even called gods. But I can't hear prayer, bless or curse people, I only have the one gift or well two now I guess. But I don't know if your Seven are real or not. I know there's something to the old gods. I can feel….those trees are alive in a way that I can't really describe. So maybe? I've seen a lot of weird shit. I wouldn't be surprised if they were."
"If I may, what makes your people different from any other god?" He seemed genuinely curious, the lack of trembling awe was nice quite frankly.
So Daisy rocked back on her heels. "On my world the gods were at war. And the human world was just kinda their stomping grounds for killing each other. So this one 'court', the Kree decided they needed more soldiers than they had. I don't know exactly how, but it wasn't good. They ended up with human/Kree children they did things to. The inhumans. Human weaknesses, life span usually, but each inhuman had one gift. Mine is vibrations." She reached up and touched his hand letting the faintest of vibrations run through his arm.
Wolkan made a shocked sound.
She smiled softly at his expression. "But the gifts are dangerous, a lot of them can harm or kill the inhuman with them. I think in the first couple of years after mine woke I broke every bone in my body, especially my arms several times over. And the bruising and internal bleeding weren't great. Lincoln felt like he was burning alive. But human weaknesses also make us easier to control, at least the Kree thought so. Didn't work out for them. They ran off and hoped we'd just kinda go away. But that left a small group of inhumans mixed with humans."
"You're different from the rest though aren't you?" Wolkan asked carefully.
She grimaced. "There's a cost to fighting for too long. You die or...change. Between training and then...we had an enemy. He'd have killed every human on our world. I wasn't strong enough to stop him. A call was made to dose me with a….elixir of immortality I guess? It makes everything about a person stronger."
"Your Holiness, correct me if I'm wrong but you're a protector. And what you've told your followers is what you think will protect this world once you leave?"
Her cheeks heated at that. "Uh...yeah, a little bit. I'm not really...I haven't done this before."
"If I may, be honest. You seem to be a well intentioned being, honesty may serve you well." Wolkan dipped his head in a gesture of what was likely respect.
Daisy breathed out. Fuck. She'd been dreading that was going to be what she was going to have to do. Coulson would be so much better at this. Even had the coming back after a few days thing going for him. "That's not going to go well."
"Why should it not?" Wolkan asked.
She pushed some of her hair behind one ear. "I've never done this before, if I make a mistake it's going to cause problems for all of you. Just...religion is complicated and not my thing."
"Perhaps that is a place to start. Have you considered what people want from you is not a new faith, but rather a new way of expressing the faith they already have?" Wolkan folded his hands before him inside his long sleeves.
Daisy looked at the man. "How would you do it?"
"Well…"
Daisy stared at the men who'd chosen to follow her. She'd run them out into the woods outside of the keep. It was...well she had to speak their language if she was going to lead them. Something she absolutely was not qualified to do. Coulson had been wrong, she wasn't a leader. But she was going to have to be. "I know you have questions. Especially considering I went and used my name."
There was nodding as the men looked at her eager for answers.
She barely kept her wince internal. "Look, just sit down, ok?" Daisy dropped down onto the ground facing the twenty four men who'd chosen to follow her over everything. It'd been sixteen a week ago. "Right, I'm not a god that gets worshipped a lot. I just...am not. So everything about respect and loving other people is...it's an ideal to work towards. But following me won't get you anything. I can't give you anything, there won't be a reward or acclaim. It's about protecting and helping people no matter what. And that's not a sacrifice most people can give. Or should be judged for not making. If any of you want to go and repledge your oaths to Lady Stark you can. If you want a god who can hear your prayers there's your old gods."
Joran frowned. "Sacrifice?"
"Look the path I chose, the one we chose is hard. It's about standing up knowing you might lose. To be willing to lose limbs, your life, sanity, everything. I was part of a six person team when I joined. Our leader lost his arm, and continued until he died. Of the two knights one is dead and the other has a limp, lost her husband, then her lover, and is still fighting. Fitz is.... His wife, our healer has...well she's changed and it's breaking her. Hell, I'm...well I'm only alive because I ended up not being human. It's not easy, or fair, and I started training you for it automatically because it's what I know."
Hogg looked at Joran and then back at her. "It's self sacrifice...for a better..everything?"
"Kinda yeah." Daisy ran a hand through her hair. "The world won't be better unless people do their part to make it so. But it's not easy."
Wilbur frowned. "I don't rightly understand, but I've just done what folks expected of me. And it left me helping that mad shit Ramsy. I heard the screaming and I didn't...do anything." His eyes were burning as he looked up at her. "I think I can sacrifice a lot to not have to just...stand there again."
There were murmurs of agreement. Joran gave a sharp nod. "I agree. And...I want to be someone...I want to do something that matters."
Daisy's heart ached for these guys. They were barely adults, if at all. They didn't deserve to feel worthless and have eyes that'd seen too much. "Alright, I'll teach you what I can. But I don't want any of you to think you have to do this."
////
Jon stared at the large map of the North. His face was solemn as he took in the position Sansa had secured for them. "The problem is the Karstarks are northeast while the Ryswells, Dustins and Moat Calin are southwest. We'll have to split the army."
"I'd gotten that." Sansa replied dryly. "We have Wun Wun and Daisy. If they try to force us to lay siege to them it won't work well for them."
Jon nodded, considering the giant and god none of the battles would be long. Their army was large enough that meeting them in the field would be foolish. A siege would be the obvious option their enemies would take. The Stark army wasn't large enough for a seige. "They'll see the Wildlings, see our banners and they'll hole up in their castles. But it'll take longer than we have to march our men to all of our enemies' doors."
"If you took a few hundred men and Wun Wun with you and rode hard to meet with the Umber host, could you take Karhold?" Sansa looked at him. "If you marched east I could take the majority of our forces and Daisy and go south and west. It would give us time to have secured the North before the Lord's Moot."
His fist clenched. "I can't protect you if I'm on the other side of the North. I don't like it."
"But would it work?" Sansa insisted despite the fact it'd leave her leading an army to battle without him by her side.
"Aye, it could work." Jon's jaw tightened as he looked at the map. "Her Holiness can fly can't she?"
Sansa paused and looked at him, clearly not expecting that question. "Yes, I've seen her do so once. And she traveled from nearly the Dreadfort to Winterfell and back in one evening. What are you thinking?"
"Do you think she'd consent to flying me from our western army with you to our eastern army once it reaches the Karhold? I could lead both armies, and protect you." Jon hated the idea of being separated from his siblings again.
His sister made a sound in the back of her throat. "We can certainly ask." Her lips twitched. "She'd have to carry you I believe."
Jon could live with the indignity. "It would be our best option. We don't have anyone I'd trust to lead an army for you."
"And Lord Umber may be a gifted warrior but his temper makes him utterly unsuited for command which leaves Lords Manderly and Cerwyn, neither of whom are ideal. There's Lord Glover but his loyalty is untested as of yet." Sansa sighed. "Your Sir Davos, is he of any use as a general?"
He shook his head. "That's not his skill. He's a good advisor, I'd recommend you listen when he speaks. Has got a good head on his shoulders and knows the true enemy is the one to the north."
"Your thoughts on Lord Glover?" Sansa took a seat, but her eyes were sharp as she listened to him.
Jon pressed his hands flat against the table. "He's tired and has lost much. But he's loyal, I think." His lips twitched. "Lady Mormont is the one you'll want to look out for that came with me. She's sharp as a needle. Sharp tongue that one. She won't be kind."
"Wonderful." Sansa just sounded exhausted herself. "We need a single solid strategy before we speak to the Lords. This could work, either with you in both places or with you in one and I in another."
He grimaced, but didn't disagree. It was the only way to secure the North fast enough for them to have a chance at time to prepare for the dead. "Rickon won't like being forced to stay."
"No, I wish we didn't have to ask it of him." Sansa drummed her fingers on the wooden arm of her chair. "I'd leave Manderly and Greatjon Umber here at Winterfell to hold it in Rickon's name till one or both of us can return."
Jon straightened and walked to the other chair and dropped heavily into it. "We have to find a way to get dragonglass, maybe wildfire."
"I've prepared a contract for the Ironbank. Six of them that we can accept which leaves us room for negotiation. An emissary party will have to be sent soon." Sansa gestured to her desk that was...well the weight of the paper likely wouldn't break it considering it was good solid ironwood. "As well as a series of tax adjustments, increase in trade to Essos, expansion of our trade fleet, an expansive series of measures for preparing for winter, the plans for the construction of an additional glasshouse, the rebuilding of Winterfell, and as close to a sustainable rate of goods to be moved to the Wall."
He stared at his sister. "Will the Lords accept it?"
"Yes. Lord Manderly is already bound by contract and self interest in supporting it. As are the Flints of Widow's Peak. Lord Umber is pledged to it, as is Lord Cerwyn. That's four Houses with enough power to force the rest to follow. Especially if Lord Glover and Lady Mormont follow suit." Sansa's face tightened. "We'll need Lord Baelish."
Jon straightened in his chair. "No. Everything you've said of him is wrong. He's a snake."
"But one I can handle." Sansa swallowed, her face tightening. "I may have a solution to keep him leashed, at least in part."
He frowned as he looked at her. "What?"
"Something I won't speak of till I'm sure it can be done." Sansa was cautious. "But we need the Vale. Their men, their protection at our backs."
Jon grit his teeth. He'd kill the man if he so much as touched his sister. "Have you already written?"
"No, but his whores will have passed the news to him already." Sansa held his eye. "We can't fight the dead alone. You said that."
"Using my own words against me?" He huffed, but reached out taking his sister's hand. "How complete of a battle strategy do we need for today?"
Sansa stood, walking to the large wooden trunk and opening it. She pulled out a garment of some sort. "You can make plans I ensure don't leave us vulnerable in a minute. First, I made you this."
He stood carefully accepting the neatly folded garment. As he looked at it, he recognized it as a cloak, one as fine as father had ever had. In fact it looked just like the one father had had. The leather had an embossed imprint of the direwolf of House Stark. "You made this?"
"As close to how father's looked as I could remember." She smiled ever so slightly at him as he stared at it in awe.
Jon's throat felt thick with emotion. "You always were clever with a needle."
"Arya was rather clever with her own." Sansa looked fond and sad at the same time.
He wrapped an arm around her, squeezing his sister in comfort. "She was alive last Brienne saw. When she hears we have the North again she'll come home." Because he had to believe that their youngest sister was alive. Rickon was alive and he hadn't dared hope for that. But now he couldn't help but dare hope.
Sansa shifted, burying her nose in his shoulder. They could plan a war in a minute. And then go find Rickon and just remind themselves that they still had each other. That not everything was lost. Not yet.
////
Sansa held Rickon's hand to keep him from walking into the Lord's hall. "I need you to promise me you won't try to defend me." She kept going before he could interject with outrage at the thought. "I can defend myself. You're going to be here to learn."
"As long as none of them try to attack you." Rickon has a slightly mullish look to him.
She knew that was a disaster waiting to happen, but one that was likely going to happen no matter what she did to prevent it. But for now this would likely be enough. "Listen, these will be your bannermen one day." She pulled him slightly closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Rickon got a slightly pinched look on his face at the mention of him being in charge of anything. "I can go with the hunters afterwards?"
"So long as you stick by Jon." Sansa smiled at him, he was as wild as he'd been as a babe. But he'd need to learn to control it, though he had a few years. Years she'd ensure he was given. She squeezed his forearm, and then turned, her mask falling into place as one of the men opened the doors for her.
She strode, Rickon on her heels, Brienne faithfully guarding their backs, into the Lord's hall. When the Starks had been King's it was the room they'd ruled their Lords and land from. A great stone room, roaring fireplace and long tables and benches laid out. She kept her chin raised as she entered. The Lords currently in Winterfell were all in the room, as well as several others. Tormund, Davos, several surviving knights from Stannis's army. It wasn't a full court, but it was the beginning of one.
What had clearly been some argument silenced at her entrance. She moved to the head table, naturally going to the great wooden chair of the Lord. Jon stiffly coming to stand beside her. Rickon quietly took the seat beside her as he'd been instructed to earlier. Sansa stood looking at her court. "Let us begin shall we." She sat gracefully, her dress folding as it'd been designed to.
There was grumbling but the Lords did as expected.
Sansa spoke. "Lawrence Snow."
The young man stood, Lord Glover slapping his shoulder as he walked before her. Lawrence bowed. "Lady Stark."
"You're the last male issue of the late Lord Hornwood. As such it falls upon you to take his seat and his name. The Hornwood is yours." Sansa flicked her hand towards Lord Manderly. "House Manderly, House Flint of Widow's Watch and House Cerwyn have pledged their support in your ascension to Lord of Hornwood of the Hornwood."
Lawrence shook slightly with what looked like joy. He drew his sword, dropping to one knee, he held the hilt of his sword, the tip against the stone floor. "House Hornwood is yours My Lady, from this day till my last day and for all the days of my line. To serve as your bannermen, to come to your aid whenever called upon. Now and Always."
"Rise." Sansa held the young man's eyes. "We are approaching dark days. Your willingness to stand beside House Stark against the dead does you credit, and will not be forgotten."
There was some banging, Lawrence was clapped on the back by the Umbers as he was dragged back to his seat.
Sir Dondarrian hobbled forward. His leg was wrapped tightly as he leaned heavily on his crutch. He was the oldest of the surviving men of Stannis's army. He spoke, his voice deep but tight with pain. "Lady Stark. We followed King Stannis to the death. But we survived. We can't return to our homes knowing what's beyond the wall." His eyes flicked to Jon. "Stannis respected him, and I'd follow his command. So if you'll have us we'll fight."
"Then you shall have a place by my hearth, meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that would bring you dishonor so long as you remain in my service and service to House Stark." Sansa swore, it would be a boon to have knights in her service, even if it wasn't for life. It gave her legitimacy.
Dondarrian gave as close to a bow as he could give with his injuries. "Then we pledge our swords to your cause, will shield your back and give our lives if need be. By the old gods and the new."
"Enough of this." Lyanna Mormont stood, her dark eyes sharp as she stepped forward.
Dondarrian limped to the side, giving the floor to the Lady of Bear Island.
Sansa looked at the girl. She kept her brother's thoughts on her in mind. "Lady Mormont."
"I came because Ned Stark's son said the dead were coming with the Long Night. But all I hear is you're planning on marching south. I didn't come for that." Lyanna didn't waver as she stood before her, proud and unshakable.
She breathed in. "Without a united North we stand no chance against the dead."
"And you care about the North? Or are you a Lannister or is a Bolton. I've heard conflicting reports." Her tone was sharp.
Sansa reached out grasping Rickon's forearm that had gone tense, a low nearly inaudible growl in the back of his throat. "I am a Stark. I was born a Stark, I will always be a Stark, I will die a Stark." She stared at the girl. "Would you have all of our army's march to the Wall? What would they eat? Their weapons would be all but useless against the dead. And what happens if traitor houses attack their homes while they're at the wall? Do you believe they will stay on the Wall while their homes are burned? We have a chance to prepare for the dead. Or do you disagree, Lady Mormont?"
"Prepare how?" Lyanna half asked half demanded.
Sansa looked to Jon. "I believe my brother can explain our battle strategy better than I."
"Right." Jon spoke, the weight of command on his shoulders.
Sansa had a hardly noticeable smile as she listened to her brother lay out the strategy they'd worked out beforehand. It was a sound, and she could tell the Lords in the room approved.