Chapter 82Notes:Behold, update is early....idk, just felt like it. I have to be up super early in the morning so, here we go.
Also heads up, sex scene this chapter.
Chapter TextYara Greyjoy hurt, the deep ache of bruising suffusing her entire being. Also a horrible stiffness from the endless days of captivity. She'd long since lost track of hours, days, and weeks. There'd been no light since she'd been dragged through the streets of King's Landing. She licked at the dried scab along her lip, eyes shifting in the dark for where she knew the door was. In the hall, she could hear the footsteps of the guards.
She amused herself with considering insults she might use if they were here to feed her. Maybe she'd get a chance to bite one of them? It was a good day when she got to bite one. Her eyes squinted as the thick oak door opened, and the dim light from a torch illuminated her bleak cell. It burned her eyes, but she refused to flinch from it.
Baring her teeth she prepared to snarl at the guards only to pause. Under the fucking Lannister colors was Theon's miserable, cowardly face. She stayed still as he stiffly walked towards her, pulling a key out, he knelt behind her, unshackling her wrists from where they'd been locked behind her.
Her body ached as she pulled her arms forward. Rubbing at her raw wrists she climbed to her feet. She turned to face Theon. He was looking at her, awaiting her judgment for leaving her behind. He was a coward. He'd left her to die. But he'd come back. She reared back and headbutted him square in the face as hard as she could.
Theon hit the ground. But didn't fight back, just blinking away the pain and looking up at her, waiting to see what she'd say.
Yara held out her hand. Theon took it, and she pulled him to his feet. She gave him a short nod before stepping towards the door only to be blocked by the man who'd come in with Theon.
"Sorry, but you can't go out looking like that." He said in a shockingly northern accent.
She stared at him. "And who's going to stop me?"
"The first guard we didn't poison or stuff in a cell after stabbing will take one look at ya and call the whole army down on our heads." He glared at her daring her to disagree.
Yara could see sense. "Then what's the plan?"
Yara hissed as she was dragged, each man had a hold under one shoulder, her boots dragging along the dungeon stones as they brought her up and past the guards. Dragged her right by the Lannister soldiers without so much as a sideways glance.
Her hair that'd had awful black oil rubbed into it certainly was black though. And her skin thanks to a liberal slathering of a brownish mixture was nearly Dornish. The fact the Northern idiot, name of Joran apparently, had insisted she bind her breasts and that she pull on scratchy, stinky peasant clothes meant not a single person saw her and thought Yara Greyjoy. The Northern kid was not who she'd have expected to come up with a charade like this. Hells, she had half a mind to ask him to join her crew as they walked straight through the gates and sent her tumbling into the street.
Theon's voice was scathing if slightly stilted as he hollered after her. "And don't be EVEN THINKING of insulting the Queen's men again!"
Yara climbed to her feet a free woman, or perhaps a free Dornishman as the case may be. Rubbing at her wrists she started walking toward the street of steel. Her eyes were drawn to the gallows, bodies not long dead swinging from nooses. There was a cart of bloated dead, their necks wrung from their time at the end of a rope. And then dozens of small folk in the stocks. Every stock was full, and those in them were looking down.
Her eyes took in the people as she walked. They were beaten down and skittish. Not a one looked her in the eye. And all of them near shrank at the presence of any man in Lannister reds. The air smelt of shit, misery, and death. So shit mostly.
Her trudging walk to steel street was grim. Some street corners had extra stocks installed, men and women locked in them, their backs bloody. Yara's eyes were dark and hard as she realized what that meant her Uncle and the Lion Bitch were doing. Ruling by fear then, reign of terror. Not that she particularly cared for the lot of peasants. But it would make killing her Uncle for this even sweeter.
She spotted the giant black-haired and blue-eyed smith leaning against a wall one shop down from the smithy with the broken sign. Right where she'd been told to find him. She stopped in front of him. "Gendry?"
"Aye, come on then." He waved at her to fall into step as he began to lumber down the street.
Yara raised a brow but did as instructed. This was certainly a strange rescue. Once they reached the house they'd commandeered she was going to have some questions. A lot of questions. Like where the fuck her surviving ships were, and why her escape so far had involved a local Smith, a Northerner, and not an Ironborn to be seen.
////
Sansa touched the worn cuff of Daisy's sleeve, where Daisy's arm laid above the warm furs in the early morning light. She was going to need to have some new shirts, likely two or three outer tunics made for her. Daisy really was hard on her clothing. Especially on the sleeve cuffs, probably because she had a habit of constantly fiddling with them. It was such a human habit, it'd always rather charmed Sansa to see those so very human traits in the woman. Her gaze turned from the cuff to Daisy's still lightly sleeping face.
It was…it was funny. She'd always thought Daisy was so very human despite being a god. There were quiet things that made it impossible to mistake Daisy for a human. Even now as she slept, Daisy didn't snore, not really. The noise she made was a barely audible hum. More of a purr than anything else. Sansa knew if she placed the flat of her hand near Daisy's chest she'd feel the soft vibrations she radiated sometimes. When she paid attention there were dozens of tiny things like that. Tiny things that hardly mattered, but never allowed her to quite forget what Daisy was.
But for all that, Sansa was sure she'd missed the mark utterly on how human Daisy was. Learning her true age had been a shock, Daisy had certainly been clearly surprised at Sansa's. And for those few awful seconds, she'd thought Daisy might pull away after hearing her age. But she hadn't. A few scant minutes and Daisy was as warm and so very there as always. It was Sansa herself who was left adjusting her view of things. Four and twenty. It was…so terribly young in comparison to what she'd thought. And perhaps it made her awful, but it changed things.
Daisy being that young meant…it meant a lot of things. It certainly meant the woman was probably one of the most reckless idiots Sansa had ever met. A bored being of incomparable age could do as Daisy had done without it being more than a whim. But four and twenty? Sansa rather despaired of meeting a good and kind person who actually possessed self-preservation instincts at this point. So much of Daisy seemed to fit into place.
Her eyes traced over the familiar features as she thought. Her heart had not changed, Sansa doubted it could be. But it changed what Daisy's actions had meant, it changed how truly deeply she cared. The investment if she was essentially mortal in every way save mortality was so much higher. It made her time and protection not a passing fancy because they had caught her interest and she had become fond of them. Instead, it meant she cared, deeply. Sansa blinked, and let her thoughts fade as she realized Daisy was waking.
Daisy's nose scrunched as she shifted, her lips turning up, her voice rough from sleep. "Hello to you too." Yawning, she stretched, eyes opening groggily. "Just gonna stare?"
"Perhaps." Sansa huffed, a fond smile on her lips.
Daisy squinted at the barely there early light of dawn at the window. "Why are we awake this early?"
"I…" Sansa didn't know how to vocalize her thoughts on how Daisy's youth changed the tenor of her actions. Nor how it could change how certain members of the court perceived her.
Daisy pushed up on her elbows, her amusement fading to something more concerned as she came fully awake. "What's wrong?"
"What was Lincoln like?" Sansa asked, it wasn't what she'd intended to say, but she found she was glad she'd asked it.
The breath caught in Daisy's throat. Her brown eyes stayed focused on Sansa's face for a long moment before she breathed out. The last dregs of sleep faded fast, even for Daisy who went from asleep to fully awake with speed. Daisy sat up fully, her face was…conflicted. "What do you want to know about him, really?"
"He's important to you, and I think I've misjudged what that means." Sansa did not mean to press on something that would hurt Daisy however. "If you do not wish to speak of it we can forget I asked."
Daisy held her eye for a long time, before giving a slight nod. "Ok."
Sansa reached out laying her hand over Daisy's. Any words she might say to that stuck in her throat, so she merely stayed quiet and listened, watching Daisy's face.
"It's…" Daisy leaned back slightly, looking towards the wall, though whatever she was seeing wasn't there. "He was tall. Short blonde hair." She touched her head indicating just how short. "Didn't have a beard, just this kinda adorable scruff." Her fingers brushed her chin briefly, and the weight of what he'd meant to her painted across her face. "He had these soulful green eyes. He'd just look at you and you felt seen. All he wanted was to heal people, to help them. He saw the beauty in things, in our gifts."
Sansa listened quietly, she could hear the depth of loss in Daisy. "He sounds remarkable."
"He was." Daisy looked at her, a bittersweet smile on her face. "We never had enough time." She cleared her throat. "I knew him less than a year, and we wasted so much time, and then Hive…"
Her hand covering Daisy's tightened. "I am truly sorry."
"Why now?" Daisy looked at her, her attention felt like a brand. "You've never asked before."
Sansa resisted the instinct to pull back. "You're four and twenty."
"This is about my age?" Daisy's head tilted slightly, a faint air of disbelief to her, the sorrow fading.
She focused on the weight of Daisy's hand in her own, the warmth of it was comforting. "I thought you were much older." Sansa gave Daisy a look to prevent her from interrupting. "It's not a bad thing that I was wrong. It changes very little. Though you are going to have to further impress your divinity upon certain idiots and should expect the political factions at court to attempt to include you in their vying for power more actively. But it changes…it changes what it means that you are here, in my bed."
"So you asked about Lincoln?" Daisy said slowly.
Sansa shook her head. "I asked about him because I realized I'd never asked you about any of your lovers. And I should have."
"And my age means you should have?" Daisy looked blatantly confused.
She sighed. "I was being stupid, I'd thought it not my place to do so."
"Not your place?" Daisy's face scrunched slightly. "I know I don't talk about him, or well, Robbie's the only person who matters that isn't wrapped up in a ton of baggage…or well, he is, but not in a way that he caused. But that doesn't mean you can't ask?"
Which, Sansa had so many questions about Robbie from the things Crann had reported back about Fitz and Daisy's conversations. Apparently, the mention of Robbie made Fitz intolerable for hours. Likely the only reason Crann mentioned it in his notes on Fitz's work. Not insignificant portions of his notes had sarcastic commentary. It'd been getting worse the longer he knew the man. But that wasn't the matter at hand. "If you were a thousand years old, how many lovers would you have had?"
"Wait…" Daisy pulled back slightly, a sudden light in her eyes. "You thought what? That you were just some fling that doesn't matter?"
Sansa couldn't help the way she rolled her eyes. "Not like that. I know you care, I've not doubted that for a long time now, long before we were what we are now. That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean then?" Daisy asked, a funny crinkle between her brows.
She sighed, how to put it. "Genuine care does not mean that in fifty, a hundred years I'd be more than a fond memory to you. After a thousand years, no matter how true, what claim of any significance would I have right to? And after a thousand years what weight would I hold? I do not mean that as a criticism. But we are nearly of age. That…means I was mistaken."
"You're ridiculous." Daisy reached up cupping the side of Sansa's face. "I care a lot, you goob."
Sansa let her eyes close. "I know." She reached up, her hand covering Daisy's where it still lay on her cheek. Breathing out she gave herself a few precious seconds before meeting Daisy's gaze again. "And I know I am poor at demonstrating or speaking it, but you mean a great deal to me. More than is wise or logical or I knew I could feel for anyone outside of my family."
Daisy's eyes widened, her mouth opening ever so slightly, and then she was leaning forward and kissing Sansa as she bore her back down to the bed.
As Sansa's back hit the soft mattress and blankets beneath her she didn't feel a flicker of unease. She knew Daisy would never hurt her, would never trap her, that if she wished she could roll them over and Daisy would permit it. And because of that she just reached for the bottom hem of Daisy's shirt so she could yank it up and out of the way, the sooner to pull Daisy's comforting weight back against her.
////
Daisy felt like she was on fire, her entire body hummed with it as she pressed Sansa into the mattress. She didn't care that they probably should be getting ready for the day soon, or that people were expecting them. None of that mattered. All that mattered was Sansa, beneath her, alive and real and wonderful.
She scraped her teeth against Sansa's neck. Nothing could be close enough. She'd always avoided leaving hickies or marks. Sansa's image was too important. But fuck it, fuck anyone outside of them and their relentless opinions on everything. As she sucked almost harshly at Sansa's neck, she felt smug at the way Sansa bucked up and into her.
A faint whine hitched in the back of her throat as she had to pull back to let Sansa yank her shirt up and over her head.
Daisy wanted to rip Sansa's nightgown off of her, but that was unacceptable. Instead, she kissed her firmly but forced herself to keep it nearly chaste as she reverently began to pull the offending garment up.
Because Daisy had heard what Sansa had said, and it ached and burned and she couldn't have put her thoughts into words, they felt trapped in her throat. Instead, she painted her words across Sansa with her mouth and hands. The singing of their vibrations was consuming, as Daisy kissed and mouthed her way from Sansa's chest, up her neck, and back to her mouth while blindly tossing the nightgown aside.
The soft sounds and heavy breathing from Sansa were the only sounds that mattered. Daisy's hand trailed down Sansa's side in more of a caress than anything. She pressed her forehead against Sansa's, her breath coming in short pants. Sansa's hand curled at the base of her neck, tangling in the short hair there holding her still, half burning and half grounding her all at the same time.
Daisy felt some of the frantic energy fading as she just stayed pressed against her. It felt right and important. She didn't know why she felt a burning that might be tears she refused to shed. Because Sansa never thought the worst of her, never asked that she defend herself, only that she explain. It hurt. Hearing Sansa's attempt at explaining what Daisy meant to her. Hurt like salt in a wound and Daisy didn't care, no matter how painful it was infinitely more precious.
She breathed in slowly, as she settled into the warmth and solid weight of the woman beneath her. Nudging Sansa's nose with her own she spoke quietly. "Are you good?" Her hand squeezed at Sansa's hip as she spoke.
"Daisy." Sansa's voice was slightly breathless, but there was a faint hint of a laugh there as well as Sansa pressed her lips to the corner of her mouth. "Are you alright?"
She nodded against Sansa, her eyes closed as she cupped one of Sansa's breasts with her free hand. "So good." She murmured as her hand on Sansa's hip trailed over to do something far more useful.
Daisy tried to stay humble and failed, as Sansa made a sharp inhale. Being able to control vibrations had perks, perks she had the control now to make the most of.
Kissing her way down to Sansa's chest she couldn't help the smug grin on her lips as Sansa's head stretched back, her eyes snapping closed as she bit at her lower lip to bite back the noises trying to escape her lips. Which challenge very much accepted. She sucked a nipple into her mouth.
Losing herself in the press, and the warmth and feel of it was intoxicating. If she could have frozen time, leaving them like this forever a part of her would do it in a heartbeat.
Reaching down with her free hand she lifted Sansa's leg from beneath the knee, opening her up more, as she hooked her fingers just right.
Daisy caught the cry Sansa let out with her mouth. She pulled her mouth back watching Sansa's face as her nails dug into her shoulder, one hand clenched in the pillow her red hair was spilling across. And then, there, Sansa's eyes opened and Daisy caught her gaze. She could have drowned in the normally blue eyes that were so blown they were near black. "Look at me, I've got you."
She kept up the stream of murmured words of support as she carried her up and caught her as she crested, back arching as she came with a sharp cry.
Daisy gently eased her through it, nuzzling against her cheek. Something in her chest settled with warm contentment as she languidly kissed Sansa, enjoying the hum of the vibrations she was never not aware of anymore. She propped herself up slightly, looking down at Sansa, flushed and gorgeous, and felt a burst of pride. And well, why stop at one?
Daisy was positively radiating smugness. She knew it and didn't give a fuck as she licked her fingers clean. The fact Sansa could actually still look faintly mortified at the sight of it, even as she panted, chest heaving, was hilarious. Instead of saying anything, Daisy let her side hit the mattress beside Sansa, though no real distance between them at all. She brushed some of Sansa's hair away from her face where it'd stuck to the sheen of sweat coating her.
Sansa's eyes closed as she leaned her face into Daisy's hand ever so slightly. She let out a hum of contentment.
Kissing her shoulder, Daisy affectionately settled against her. A part of her wouldn't mind closing her eyes and dozing in this warm and contented bubble. But she'd have time for that later, she'd rather watch Sansa as she lay there in her arms. She traced idle patterns on Sansa's stomach. At the first faintest of signs of chill, Daisy reached back and grabbed one of the blankets, and pulled it over them.
Sansa's voice was soft but had a rasp to it that made Daisy near purr with contentment to know she'd put that there. "I don't believe I can move."
"That's fine." Daisy brushed her lips against her cheek. She wasn't entirely sure what to do with the warm post sex glow they were allowed to just…enjoy here. It was something she hadn't really had much time for since Miles. Which wasn't someone she wanted to think about right now, so she didn't, instead luxuriating in the gentle softness of Sansa. Because Sansa Stark might be all tightly controlled sharp edges, but beneath the layers and paranoid control freak tendencies, she was soft. And kind and so full of a visceral love for those that were her's. And somehow, she wanted her. Not that she wasn't pretty awesome, thank you very much. But people like Sansa, who loved like her didn't… well they didn't pick people like Daisy.
Sansa shifted slightly. "I just need…a minute."
Daisy huffed in amusement. "I wanted to, you can return the favor some other time." Besides, it wasn't like evidence of her own peak wasn't painted on Sansa's thigh. And honestly, she was far too content to be bothered that she'd only had the one orgasm.
"How late is it?" Sansa asked, clearly wanting the outside world to encroach upon them as much as Daisy did. Which was not at all.
She glanced at the window. "It's at least past ten."
Sansa rolled into her, burying her face into Daisy's shoulder. "Oh gods."
Daisy couldn't help the snicker she let out at that as she ran her fingers down Sansa's spine. "You need a bath before you get dressed too." A fact she was proud of.
"Arya is going to be insufferable." Sansa whined, the lightness of the burdens she set down when it was just the two of them suffusing her.
She hummed. "Think I'll have a second Stark try to strangle me?"
"Second?" Sansa's eyes flew open as she pulled back, looking at Daisy in confusion.
Daisy paused, her voice's pitch rising just a bit too theatrically. "Did I say second? I totally meant first. No idea where you got the second."
"Daisy." Sansa raised her brow, though the corner of her lips twitched. "Which one of my brothers tried to strangle you and why?"
She gave a half shoulder shrug. "Worth a shot. So apparently Jon thought we were faking being lovers."
"Wait…how?" Sansa asked dumbfounded.
Daisy kissed the crinkle between Sansa's eyes. "No idea, but he did. And fun fact, Jon's as much of a warg as Rickon, he just has zero control of it."
"Ghost." Sansa said, utterly horrified as the pieces clicked together.
Daisy actually laughed. "It shocked him enough, I don't think he saw more than a second or two and mostly just smelled what was happening before he slammed into himself. He's very protective of you, and now just feels terrible for trying to strangle me." Daisy bit back a slight wince. "The Northern Lords you sent with him do all know you like being on top most of the time though…so…sorry about that? We can blame Jon if you want to not make it three out of five on the attempted murder."
"I'll kill him." She was red to her ear tips as she buried her head into Daisy's shoulder again. "I'm so sorry. "
Daisy continued to gently trail her finger pads along the dip of Sansa's side. "I'd rather you didn't. You'd be leaving me without a pretty prince meatshield against the Tyrells."
Sansa let out a helpless, unqueenly snort. "Well, if he's a meatshield."
"Very important role." She kissed Sansa. "I'm very uninterested in Tyrells." Daisy grinned into it as she kissed her again. "And you wolves are kinda possessive."
Sansa lightly nipped at her shoulder. "Daisy!"
Laughing she kissed the outraged protests away. Daisy could have floated from the bubbling happiness and contentment. It meant everything.
Chapter 83Notes:Happy Holidays everyone! Hope you all stay safe and have a nice holiday weekend!
Chapter TextBarbrey Dustin, for all they were on the brink of war with fucking everyone, hadn't been this amused in years. Because Sansa Stark was the single most rigidly controlled man or woman she'd ever met. Girl bloody well breathed propriety. Her manners and icy exterior didn't change from petitions to chopping a head off to dealing with an Umber. It was impressive and intimidating in equal measure. But not even their Queen's ironclad control could hide the fact that that god of hers had ravished the hell out of her before leaving again.
Because perfectly worn, wrinkle free, high collared gown or not; there was a very obvious hickey showing above said high collar. And Barbrey would believe Cersei Lannister was a maid before she believed that was the only hickey the Queen had sucked into her neck. After all the servants talked, and their Queen not leaving her bed chambers for half a day was wildly out of character. In fact, it was unprecedented. And the way her perfectly elegant and smooth walk had been distinctly stiff, still was. Well, the girl was plainly saddle sore.
She looked up from the green cloak she was embroidering for one of the royal guards. Ah, the joys of sewing circles. Though it was faintly odd their Queen was there on a day that no doubt every important Lord was dying to pull her aside for words about the news her god had brought with her, now that said god was gone again. "Which Lord are you avoiding to join us this morning, your Grace?"
"Must I be avoiding anyone?" Sansa's fingers stitched with a speed and precision that was impressive to behold in one so young.
Barbrey noted the shirt was of an odd cut, not that she could see much with how it was laid out. "Perhaps not, but you're not one to stitch when fool Lords could use a hand in minding themselves."
Several of the other court ladies made sounds of amusement. After all, they'd all been spending a great deal of time on turning out an inspiring amount of dress, banners, and general garb for war and winter.
Sansa gave her a knowing look. "Daisy flying all over the place has worn her dress quite notably and needs a few more pieces. I've asked Fitz to attend this morning to advise on what she might prefer as she's not here and avoids the topic like the plague. If we mean to finish the project by her next return, beginning now can take priority."
"That will be a challenge." Mira Lovewell, the first official lady in waiting to the Queen, opened a chest looking at thread. "We may need to make more silver thread."
Barbrey considered the delicate work that would require. Certainly a welcome change from the near-endless direwolves. "What would that mad, god touched fool know about dress?"
"He has eyes, he must know at least what colors she prefers?" Mira pointed out.
Lady Flint scoffed. "A man notice the color of someone other than himself? I'd doubt it of any man save that Ser Loras."
Sansa's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'm sure we'll manage should that prove to be correct. Even if her Holiness is frustratingly mute when it comes to her preferences."
Bless her, Lady Flint made a dry remark while keeping her eyes firmly on her bit of stitching. "She certainly prefers you, your Grace."
Sansa actually misstitched at that. "Excuse me?"
"Considering you have that god's teeth marks in your neck, you can't mean to disagree." Barbrey could have cackled at the flush that evoked on their Queen's pale cheeks. "Your Grace?"
The Queen, to her credit, held her composure despite her mortification. A thing she really ought to be getting over if she was going to take or be taken as a lover. Whichever the case might be. "Yes, well, I hardly see how that is particularly relevant to her preferred fabrics."
"You must forgive them, your Grace. I do believe the widows in our midst are lonely." One of the Harclay twins said, she delighted in emphasizing the word 'lonely'. "Their beds are rather empty."
There was a chorus of giggles at that.
Barbrey had to give it to the girl, she had a sharp wit. "Do husbands truly add that much to a bed?"
"Depends on the husband," Mira said dryly as she stitched at the gambeson she was repairing. "I find the difference in husband makes all the difference."
The other Harclay twin smirked. "Yes, how is having the new Knight Lovewell treating you?"
Mira was faintly smug as she stitched, taking a few seconds to pick the correct work. "He is quite reverent."
"Reverent?" Barbrey snorted. "You mean the boy came to you a maid and knows he owes you his new fortune."
Mira shook her head. "In part, but I know when a man sees me as a trophy and when one prefers me over the advantages my name might bring him."
"That's just disappointing." One of the Harclay twins rolled her eyes. "If one of us is going to marry a peasant warrior, we ought to get tales of vigorous and scandalous ravishing. Where's the fun in gentle reverence?"
The other twin smirked faintly. "Well, one of us here is enjoying vigorous and scandalous ravishing, your Grace."
"Is there nothing more interesting to discuss than what occurs in my bedchamber?" Sansa asked, faint exasperation in her tone even as the light dusting of pink along her cheeks remained.
Barbrey raised a brow as she looked towards the Queen. "Please, what else is there to discuss? The only topic worth discussing that isn't your relations is Lady Lovewell's scandal of a marriage. Which won't be properly interesting till her brother gets around to challenging her new husband to a duel over the whole thing."
"And it doesn't take a great mind to know the new Knight Lovewell might be a handsome boy, but he clearly only knows how to use one of his swords well." Lady Flint said disdainfully.
Mira shot the woman a glare. "I never said he was inadequate. At least my husband cares for more than his own pleasure and is quite…dedicated to that purpose. Although, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised you'd think so lowly of a man. It must be hard to remember what it feels to enjoy such things. Tell me, how long has it been since your husband has thought to visit your chambers, Lady Flint?"
"Once you've given birth to ten babes you can talk to me about wanting your husband pawing at you at all hours of the night." Lady Flint sniffed. "The occasional peak is not worth the effort."
Sansa, bless the gods spoke, her brow furrowed slightly. "Occasionally? How is that possible with how many babes you've had?"
"A man's peak rarely means a woman's." Lady Flint replied flatly. "Well, not unless he has the energy to continue longer than he might wish to."
And Sansa, gloriously, was clearly still confounded. "Obviously, but he has hands and a mouth. Surely he can ensure it is not so one-sided? I mean, only one person experiencing what…one peak? That's ridiculous."
"Fascinating suggestion, your Grace." Mira put in, the girl had definitely picked on the implication about their Queen's lover. They all had. "Tell me, how many times would you say is beneficial for lovemaking?"
And oh, the shade of red their Queen's ears turned was hilarious. Her voice was faintly tight, but otherwise remarkably unchanged. "Counting would be rather gauche would it not? Besides, it all runs together sometimes making it hard to keep track…is that not typical?" She looked around at their faces.
Barbrey barely resisted reaching out and patting the girl's hand. "I do believe we can take that to mean your god is quite divine in more than the obvious ways."
A deeply awkward sounding male throat cleared. "I can c-come back?"
"Fitz!" Their Queen clearly intended to grab hold of her life rope out of this conversation with both hands. "Please, that was terribly rude of us. We were not expecting you for some time yet."
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Fitz kind of wanted to die. But then, well living in tight quarters already meant he knew far more about every one of his friends' sex lives than he ever wanted to. Had seen so much more than he'd needed to, Hunter and Bobbie. Or like with Lincoln and Daisy…well he'd fitted out her bunk with containment materials the second day after she and Lincoln had become a thing for a reason. Bloody superpowers triggered by emotion. So, he shoved down his sudden desire for moonshine or bleach and set down the wooden box he'd grabbed from Daisy's quarters before coming. "In that case, you're wasting your time. You're not going to make better armor than I've already made Daisy. No one here is."
"Excuse me?" Sansa asked a brow raising.
He opened up the lid and yanked up the top jacket of Daisy's combat suit. "I'm sure your armor is…nice? But this fabric is tougher than any metal you have. It's an adamantium, k-kevlar blend. You can stab or shoot i-it with anything and it's not going through. Crossbow bolts are nothing to it." Fitz winced…maybe he was being too strong? "You could put a coat or something o-over it if you wanted?"
A severe looking woman, her hair tightly pulled into some sort of knot on top of her head. "How have you not died?"
"I did die?" Fitz frowned slightly.
The woman made a sound in the back of her throat. "For curiosity's sake, how many times has her Holiness saved your life?"
He rubbed at his short beard. "Daisy? Er…I don't know probably a lot?"
"Fascinating." The woman replied.
Fitz looked around the woman, and opened and shut his mouth. "If you w-wanted to talk armor why isn't there a smith or something here?"
"Because I didn't ask you here to discuss armor," Sansa said dryly. She gestured to a wooden chair. "I asked you here because Daisy requires some more clothing and I thought perhaps you'd know some of her preferences."
"Oh…that makes more sense." He shuffled forward, hands dropping to his hips. "Why not just ask Daisy?"
Sansa had an actual flicker of irritation on her face. "Because she refuses to say anything about what she wants."
Fitz actually considered that. "Right…that makes sense." In a horrible sort of way. Daisy either got what she wanted or took what was offered. Unless it was pizza, if it was pizza she got picky, also music…so inconsequential things. And here? It wasn't like they had tank tops. "S-sorry for assuming. Her field suit is the only t-thing I made of her's, clothing wise. I might not be a lot of help."
The twenty something brunette seated nearest Sansa spoke up. "Surely you will have noticed what colors she prefers? Or wears most commonly."
"Purple?" He considered what she wore when she wasn't in well…field clothing. "Greens, she likes greens…er…some blues? She'll wear most colors, lots of plaids."
The older woman stared at him like he was an idiot. "And plaid is?"
"Er it's a pattern in the fabric? You don't really have it…she likes vests? Sweaters, she likes sweaters." Fitz pulled at one ear a bit as he considered it. "I know she likes dresses, they're just not practical for our work."
One of the other women, of which christ two of them were identical, spoke up. "Really? I wouldn't have expected her to choose such a ladylike garment."
Fitz blinked as he saw the lack of disagreement with that statement. "Wait…you all think…she's what? Butch?" He snorted, bending with laughter. "Oh god, that's too good."
The older woman let out a blistering sigh. "Explain."
"You think Daisy dresses masculinely." He grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's too good. I'm n-never letting her live this down." Fitz scoffed at the confusion and held up the top half of her combat suit. "Does this look like something a man would wear? Or, well, anyone who didn't care about what they looked like?"
The pretty looking brunette spoke again. "It looks not unalike to what some men wear?"
Fitz kinda wanted to groan. "Look, our fashion is really different." He sighed. "I mean, because of my country I have a traditional men's skirt that stops at the knees I could wear if I wanted to. It's a kilt and most Scotsmen will knock your teeth in if you call it a skirt." His nose wrinkled. "I don't like it, gets kinda cold. But pants are just…acceptable for women to us. Daisy wears them more than anything because she fights. It's hard to kick a man in the face while in a dress." He shrugged. "But she's considered like not…the girliest looking girl? but quite fashionably feminine in our world."
"That's considered fashionably feminine?" The brunette stared at the combat suit top with some disbelief.
"For armor. N-normal people don't wear them." Fitz sighed, he wasn't sure how to put it…exactly. "Maybe a hundred people…ever were worth the expense of something like this." And fuck doing conversions, a dollar could equal a gold coin. Even if he knew that wasn't accurate in the slightest. But he wasn't figuring out conversion rates when there was nothing to be gained from it. "Look, personalized field suits are expensive, they take months to make. The fabric is an…adamantium kevlar blend. A high-end kevlar like any agent would wear costs…around a hundred fifty gold coins a yard. With layering 6-7 yards. But this isn't high-end kevlar. It's got adamantium, the second strongest metal in existence in it."
Fitz licked his lips. "Just the raw material, has to be kept so hot it's liquid until it's s-set. For the amount in just the suit? Half a million gold." He didn't mention they'd stolen the fuck out of that particular material. Why buy when you can steal it from the bad guys? And such a useful material. What he'd do to have access to vibranium….
"The material is worth half a million?" One of the women uttered in sheer disbelief.
He shook his head. "No, the raw metal in it is. The fabric in this suit alone is…I mean I made it. But about eight hundred thousand to a million. With the e-engineering and work put into one of these? Million and a half at least. Her gauntlets twice that easily." He couldn't help the pride at the gauntlets. "Some of my best work, those."
"How is such a sum possible for a single suit of armor?" The brunette was breathless in horrified awe.
Fitz shrugged. "It's the b-best armor you can make without vibranium, and if it was vibranium it wouldn't play well with her powers. So even at ten thousand a gram, it'd be worthless to her. But that's not the p-point." He lifted the arm of the suit showing the large purple patch of material. "This? This is because she wanted it. Her last one had gold seams."
"More than one." The older woman breathed.
He nodded. "So not what Daisy would wear typically. It's not like…she wouldn't eat dinner in it."
"If the cut of her armor is not appropriate, what would be?" Sansa asked calmly, redirecting the conversation to the original point.
Fitz rubbed at his beard, still wasn't used to the thing but it was fucking cold here. "This is your w-world. What she would normally wear would look ridiculous to y-you. I mean she owns a few shirts made of nets. And I don't know how to explain tank tops to you." He figured he best tell them to figure it out. Well, with knowing she liked colors? "If she hated what you made for her she'd have t-told you." He missed his workshop.
The older woman looked him up and down. "You are a clever man, likely the cleverest I shall ever meet. But for all that you are a fool. You live because you are useful, and somehow endeared yourself to a person powerful enough to keep you alive despite your appalling lack of manners and arrogance."
"Excuse me?" His voice pitched up as he leaned back in his seat.
"You are smart enough to know how to behave with manners. Yet you choose not to because you know none shall harm you for failing to adhere to them. Manners are too far below you. No doubt if you wished, you are quite capable of answering exactly what you understood was the point of this meeting the moment it was first asked of you. But you chose to ignore it to brag about your work. Because simple clothing is beneath your notice, yes?" The woman stood. "I believe you should leave boy, go play with your tools and your intellect."
Sansa spoke, her voice sharp. "Lady Dustin, need I remind you that you are as much a guest in this place as he is?"
"Not at all, your Grace." Lady Dustin gave Sansa a dip of her head, before turning her razor sharp attention back to him. "But as Fitz here prefers to ensure we are aware of his intelligence and not think him so unmanly as to have noticed dress at all, rather than assist in making his 'friend' happy, I see no point in his remaining here."
The words stuck at the back of his throat because he could see the agreement on the faces of the women. They agreed with Lady Dustin. And…he wasn't entirely sure she was wrong. "Her favorite color is purple, she wears it all the time, but she likes colors in general, she likes fabrics that are soft and that drape. And vests, she's fond of vests. While she will wear higher collars I've seen her wear necklines much more daring than that weird dress she was wearing the other day had." He held the woman's sharp eyes. "Daisy knows she's beautiful and knows how to use it to her advantage if she wants to. And tight, our clothing was fitted much more tightly to the body, especially the pants. But if she cannot move freely in what you make her she won't wear it."
Standing up, he stepped to the crate with Daisy's gauntlets and the rest of her battle suit in it. He neatly laid her upper jacket in it, shut the lid and picked it up. "If that's all I have other things t-to be doing." He considered Sansa for a moment, but he was not going to bow to anyone, ever. Even if she was Daisy's girlfriend and seemed a decent sort of person. "I hope that helps you."
////
Lord Tytos Blackwood was making the trek to the weirwood of his ancestral fortress. He would not be long at Raventree Hall, the Riverlands required pacification, and he was required to ride out to do so. Their tree may be dead, but there was still peace to be found in its ancient, and giant presence. He frowned at the sight of a man standing before the tree. "Who goes there?"
The man turned, but it wasn't a man at all. Instead, a pretty enough woman, dressed in fine men's clothing. In the fading light of the day looked irritatingly cocky. She didn't reply, just casting an eye up and down his frame.
Tytos pulled himself up to his full height, one hand falling upon his sword. "Answer me, I will not ask again."
"The Winter Queen sends her greetings." The woman's lips twitched up. "There's a letter in your bed chamber from her. Probably a lot nicer and more polite than me. Your kids are safely at Winterfell."
He didn't lower his sword's hilt. "Why should I believe you?"
"Your tree is singing again." The woman grinned. "You're welcome, though really you ought to thank your son Edmund. He asked your Queen to intercede for you." Her knees bent, and then she vanished in a gust of wind straight up.
Tytos cried out in alarm, jolting forward, drawing his sword, head bending backward, but she was gone. His heart thundered in his chest. What magic was that?! But then he saw it, out of the corner of his eye. Red. His eyes widened, his fingers loosened, and his sword dropped to the ground.
Because of the weirwood tree of his ancestors. The tree whose death had weighed on their House for generations. Ever since the fucking Bracken's had poisoned it. The tree which had been white and dry as bone for longer than he'd drawn breath, was coated in red buds of new growth. His gaze turned to the face, carved into the tree's bark. It was bleeding red sap as only a living tree could.
Dropping to his knees he felt tears upon his cheeks. It was alive. Gods be good and great, the tree was alive!
Chapter 84Notes:Yo! Hope everyone had a good holiday season!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextHelen Tyrell had been breathlessly awed and terrified when Lady Olenna had sent her to offer to escort her Holiness down to the town beside the river Mander just below High Garden. She knew her selection had been due to her beauty, and that she was considered not hopelessly daft. Which from the Queen of Thorns was essentially a compliment. She walked with the escort of Tyrell guardsmen down into the courtyard where her Holiness was fondly getting to know the horses that had been saddled for the day.
She felt a pang of horror that the goddess had arrived before her. Helen dropped into a low curtsy. "Holiness, I hope you were not obliged to wait."
"You're fine." She fondly scratched at the nose of a honey coated mare. "Helen, right?"
Helen's heart beat at her name even being known. "Yes, your Holiness. It is an honor to show you more of the lands of our home."
The Goddess's eyes flicked to her, an amused smile on her lips before she returned her attention to the horse. "Willas's horses certainly are beautiful."
Helen felt her heart in her throat at that. To know the power this being held, and yet to see her was…terrifying. She prayed silently she would not bring this being's displeasure. "He has a keen eye for such things. Which horse do you prefer, your Holiness?"
The goddess scratched behind the mare's ear. "I think this girl will be sweet." She stepped to the correct side and easily swung herself up into and astride the saddle with inhuman grace. "Shall we?"
Helen moved and mounted side-saddle with all the grace she could manage. "Have you seen any of our town, Holiness?"
"Not unless you count a brief glimpse from above." The goddess smiled. "So I hear you've been assisting Jon with dancing lessons?"
"Yes, his highness is a dedicated student." And stiff as a board making him a terrible dancer. Likely why while he already knew the steps he'd clearly never practiced said steps or actually danced with anyone before. She had little hope he'd manage more than not looking ridiculous if he stepped onto the dance floor. While she wouldn't mind being married to the prince, she would be bored in such a match. Not that that particularly mattered, nor was it particularly likely. But she was not ignorant of why she was being trotted out before this Prince and goddess.
The goddess laughed. "He's having a hard time isn't he?"
"While a fine swordsman he has little experience with dance." She settled on, insulting a man the goddess so clearly favored would be beyond stupid.
The goddess hummed as they rode out through the gates in the warm morning sun. "I'll help, no doubt you scare him."
"Only slightly." There was no point in denying the Prince looked like a hunted animal around women. She risked being daring then, though she ensured her voice had the correct tone for it not to be mistaken for insult. "Do we intimidate you as well, Holiness?"
The goddess's lips twitched. "A pretty man or woman flirting with me isn't exactly something I'm unfamiliar with." She looked catching Helen's gaze. "But it will go nowhere."
She felt the breath catch slightly in her throat, there was danger there. "I meant no disrespect, Holiness."
"I'm not interested, and that's not gonna change. No matter which of you try." She looked away. "Good luck with Jon though."
Helen let that settle, her heart thundering in her chest. But she could take the dismissal with grace and never speak of the faint relief her duty to her family did not include more. The goddess might be beautiful, but she was also terrifying. "Well that is a shame, you are quite beautiful. I doubt my cousins shall recover from losing the chance to woo you."
The goddess laughed outright, a pleasing sound. "I'm sure they'll live. So, besides attempting to seduce me, did you or Lady Olenna have any other plans for today?"
"We are very proud of our lands and the wealth that has benefited all our people." Helen considered the goddess, lying would be pointless. "I believe Lady Olenna intended for you to be absent as the last of the chambers are prepared for the arrival of Queen Daenerys."
The goddess nodded. "Makes sense." She paused. "Do you think they have pears?"
"Of course, anything you might wish can be acquired if it's within our power, Holiness." Helen replied easily, also frankly pears were nothing.
"Actually," the goddess turned to look at her. "What is considered a normal gift for a twelve year old boy for his name day? I'd just get him legos normally, but they don't exist here and my powers aren't exactly great for making things."
Helen knew she would be permitted some small curiosity here. "If I may, which boy do you intend to make a gift to?"
"Rickon Stark, I promised to fly back North for his name day. He's a sweet kid." And the goddess's face looked warm and fond the same way it got when she looked at prince Jon.
Helen made a quiet note that this goddess was bound to the Starks by more than Sansa Stark's warm bed. "Lord Willas was given his first hawks when he was two and ten. Loras was given a horse for his lessons in the tiltyard. Surely any gift you presented would be highly valued."
"Hawks?" She seemed to consider it. "Well, I suppose I should hunt down Willas at some point. Thank you, this world is…different."
She felt a bolt of concern at the term 'hunt down', but she was nearly certain it was not meant as a threat, merely a lack of formality in speech. "He would be honored to assist you, Holiness."
"That is still so strange." The goddess shook her head, a look on her face that was something like disbelief.
Helen risked the question. "What is, Holiness?"
"Your world." The goddess scratched at her mare's shoulders. "I don't think I'd ever seen a horse in person before I got here. Like I knew they existed, seen pictures of them and stuff but like…never seen one, let alone ridden one."
She was confounded by the concept but fascinated. Though, the goddess rode as if she'd been doing so her entire life. "Do you enjoy horses, Holiness?"
"Yeah, I like them." She smiled at the animal fondly, before looking up at her. "Please do not give me a horse. I don't need or want a whole ass horse for however long I'm here."
"I suppose taking the horse with you would be difficult." Helen replied with quiet humor, a horse lived a long life, she could see the lack of practicality of possessing one.
The goddess nodded, though her eyes had found the town. "How many people live here?"
Helen was fascinated and her terror had faded to more of quiet awe as they walked through the town. The smallfolk kept insisting on bowing, and a lot of small gifts had been collected. The Tyrell men at arms and horses were weighed down with items. Mostly foodstuffs and items from the various stalls and shops. There hadn't been time for them to prepare. It was fascinating to watch how the goddess hid it but had no idea how to handle this. Helen had been forced to step in and direct the men at arms to take the gifts. But the goddess was good, her discomfort was near impossible to note unless you realized she was mimicking the same emotional state for every gift.
But the interesting thing Helen noted was that goddess Quake did not seem to be unhappy. Rather she seemed more content, her face more interested than it was within the confines of Highgarden from what little she'd seen. And so long as goddess Quake didn't indicate she wished to leave, Helen had no intention to suggest it as an option.
A baker was bowing and passing a loaf of bread into the goddess's hands.
"You don't owe me anything, but thank you." Goddess Quake smiled at him.
He shook his head. "Holiness."
Helen's head turned as a small girl came flying out from between two men. The child tripped from the sudden change of fighting against the crowd to the relative distance they'd given the living goddess. Her toe catching on a stone, the large bucket of water she'd been carrying flying, drenching goddess Quake from about the waist down.
Goddess Quake lunged forward, catching the kid around the middle before she could face plant into the ground, the bucket smacking into her shin from the movement. "I got you!" She easily righted the child of perhaps six or seven years to her feet. "Are you ok?"
"What do ya think ya'r doing you little hellion!" One of the men yelped out while reaching to grab the kid and haul her back.
Goddess's Quake's hand shot out, grabbing the man's hand. She shot him a look that had his words dying in his throat, and face paling rapidly. Her attention returned to the girl a fraction of a second later.
The girl's face was bright red in embarrassment, her eyes were pale and shifted…oddly. "What were you doing in the road!"
"I wasn't aware the road was all yours?" Quake was smiling though, and it felt more real than it had a few seconds ago as she dropped into a crouch, easy as can be in front of the girl.
"It's rude! Just blocking things like…like a mean person." The girl's eyes teared up in sheer frustration. And to her horror, Helen realized the girl was blind and didn't have the faintest clue who she was insulting.
Goddess Quake's expression didn't flicker at the insult. "I guess that was very mean of me." Her tone was fond, a lack of danger to her. "You were getting water for your parents then?"
"The sisters, I'll never get it done now." The girl's shoulders slumped. "It's all your fault." She half spat at the god and kicked out, actually hitting the goddess's shin with her foot.
Helen was not alone, every person within earshot was holding their breath in horror. She didn't wish to see this child harmed, but it was so far past her place to interfere.
The goddess shook her head with a huff. "Well, we can't have the sisters mad at you. How about I help you get your water and we call it square?"
"Deal." The girl quickly accepted with all the passion of a seller ensuring the buyer couldn't back out. It was horrifying.
But goddess Quake didn't seem to take insult…somehow? "What's your name?"
"Emilee, wha's yours?" The girl half bounced on her toes.
And somehow the goddess just looked charmed. "Daisy." She smiled. "Now, you'll have to give me directions, but I've been told I'm kinda awesome at piggyback rides?"
Emilee's entire face lit up in sheer glee. "Really!?"
"Yeah, really really." And the goddess gently lifted one of the girl's hands and set it on her shoulder. "Any time you want."
And Emilee excitedly clamored onto the goddess's back. She was all knobbly knees and gap toothed smile as she climbed on. Helen winced, the girl had to have knocked the goddess a few times in the whole effort. The girl didn't seem to notice. "The big well's just by where the smiths are! You can hear 'em banging all the time."
"I think I can find that." Goddess Quake rose to her feet, easy as anything, one hand hooking under one of Emilee's legs to make sure she didn't fall, the other catching up the handle of the bucket. And as easy as that it was like the goddess had simply decided that a poor, unimportant child was more interesting than anyone else.
////
Daisy hid the wince at how one of Emille's knees had gotten her in the side. "Little less choking please."
The kid changed to having a death grip on the fabric of her vest instead of around her neck. "Sorry." She chirped at full volume directly into her ear.
She bit back a snort, kids were something alright. "Is getting water one of your normal chores?"
"Yeah, me an' Kober. But he was being dumb and left me." Emilee declared. "We were supposed to be getting extra water. But he said something was happenin' and left me to go see what it was."
She ignored the looks everyone was giving them. Frankly, she didn't care, and what Emilee couldn't see couldn't bother her. "Sounds very rude of him."
"It was! We gotta get extra water so we can scrub up for the Targaryen Queen." Emilee nodded so enthusiastically that she nearly overbalanced herself.
Daisy just gently adjusted to keep the kid from falling off. "Are you excited about the Queen?"
"Not really. It's not like I can see the dragons." There was a definite pout in her voice. "Nothin' interesting ever happens for us. All the important stuff is up at the castle."
She hummed, spotting the large fountain where, if her sense of vibrations was right, had water being piped in from the river. Daisy easily scooped up a bucket full of water. "Alright, which way to your home?"
"It's a right at the corner by the tannery that smells funny. Then it's the big orphanage where the stones get kinda turned up."
Daisy felt a sharp pang, she'd been right when she'd thought 'sisters' meant religious orphanage. Things were so different here and weirdly so very similar sometimes. "Do you have big plans for when you get old enough to leave?"
"I don't wanna get married." Emilee sounded positively glum.
She raised a brow at that. "Aren't you a little young to be thinking of marriage?"
"Aren't you married?"
Daisy knew that Helen Tyrell and the men at arms that were following behind were certainly listening. But, well it wasn't like it was a secret. "No, never, and not sure I ever will."
"But…everyone gets married?" Emilee's voice was full of disbelief. "And you're nice. Are you a whore or somethin?"
She smiled. "Oh I'm nice now, not a meany?"
Emilee kicked at her a bit.
"Fine, fine." She laughed, half cause the kid was adorable, and half because of the looks of absolute horror on everyone else's faces. "I haven't wanted to marry anyone. And no I'm not a whore, though the sisters who raised me would probably despair over me."
The kid perked up. "You was raised by sisters too?"
"I was, you remind me of one of the older boys there actually." Daisy had to wonder if being blind just made people inclined toward violence? Cause it was turning into a pattern in her experience. She paused as she saw what was almost certainly the panicked version of this world's nun rushing towards them. "I think one of your sisters just spotted us."
"Rats…" Emilee whined. "You're fun though."
Daisy came to a halt, setting the bucket down as the grey-robed woman came near flying towards them.
The woman had her hair covered, her clothing shapeless and undetailed in a way that set her apart. Her knees hit the road without hesitation. "Holiness!! Please, she knows not what she's doing. I beg you to show mercy, she is only a child."
Emilee had the most confused sounding voice. "Sister Elna what are you talkin' about? It's just Daisy?"
Daisy spoke quickly before it could spiral further out of control. It'd been funny, but not when someone who genuinely loved the girl was this terrified. "There's nothing to apologize for Sister Elna, Emilee has given no insult." She dropped down and gently swung Emilee off of her back. "I think you're going to be going the rest of the way home with Sister Elna here."
"Why?" Emilee kept a grip on her shoulder lest she try to leave.
She sighed. "Just because I know I wouldn't hurt you, doesn't mean she knows that. But it's been very nice to meet you." Daisy handed the girl the bucket of water. "Just behind you, six steps."
"Fine…you could come visit sometime though?" Emilee tried.
Daisy wondered at how lonely the kid was for her to be this desperate after so little contact to want to keep her around. The sisters clearly cared, her guess was likely too many children as the issue. "If I have the chance to, I'll come visit. Now go on, your poor Sister is waiting for you."
She straightened back to her feet, watching as Emilee trotted the six steps to the sister without a bit of hesitation. Her small faintly shrill voice echoed. "Why are you being weird?"
Daisy watched as the woman gave a grateful bow to her as she gathered up Emilee and began to hurry her away. She turned to Helen. "Have the men take everything that was given to me today to that orphanage. They need it more than I do."
"Certainly, Holiness." Helen lowered herself in a curtsy clearly recognizing that that hadn't been a request.
Daisy almost regretted the way she'd commanded that but…no, it was the right thing to do. It was still strange to be considered a god, possibly even to be one. She paused, flicking her eyes up to the sky. "I believe I'll be leaving you here, it would seem the Dragon Queen has arrived a day ahead of her army." She glanced at the men in Tyrell colors, yeah the woman would be perfectly safe. Daisy's knees bent slightly, and then she launched herself into the air.
////
Daenerys circled high above Highgarden, the mighty strength of Drogon holding them aloft. She never felt closer to her largest child than when they were high above the clouds, the wind sharp and stinging. She felt alive up here like it was where she belonged. Below her laid out were the great green and gold fields of Highgarden. The white shining walls of the great fortress that had stood longer than her ancestors had ruled. Even with her untrained eye, and from this height she could see evidence of the Lannister forces. The front gatehouse was rubble, and across the first and second rings of the castle were large pieces missing. It was strange the only damage at all to be seen was to the walls.
As Drogon circled lower she could see the heraldry of House Tyrell flying proudly in the breeze. It would seem Daisy had done as promised. She curled her fingers around one of Drogon's spines as she felt a ripple of his muscles. And then he opened his great jaw, letting out an ear shattering roar. Dany felt it in her bones, and it felt like it was her own cry as much as Drogon's.
She watched as people rushed to form a welcoming party. Drogon changed the pitch of his body, their circle turning to be over the awaiting crowd. Two great sweeping circles before they landed on the ground which shuddered and buckled from the weight of him. Dany looked down at the welcoming party, she recognized Olenna Tyrell, Jon Stark, and Daisy. The rest of the nobles in green and gold were strangers to her. As Drogon had landed, they had as one dropped to their knees. Well, all save Jon and Daisy. Jon bowed however and Daisy just grinned up at her.
Dany dismounted, using Drogon's bent wing to go from the great height of his back down to the grass spotted with white daisies. She strode forward, without hesitation. "You may rise."
A handsome man, with golden brown curls, used his oak cane to leverage himself up to his feet. "Highgarden is yours, your Grace."
"I thank you for your loyalty." She cast her eyes to Olenna.
Olena had stepped forward. "Your Grace, my grandson and Lord of Highgarden and the Reach, Willas Tyrell."
"Well met, my Lord." Dany stepped towards Daisy. "You were good to your word."
Daisy smiled. "And you?"
"The North will remain the Starks, and I will make no claim on it. Nor shall my heirs." She agreed, the future would say whether it was the wise decision she'd made on the beach near two weeks ago. But she felt in her bones it was. And, she could respect a woman or being of her word. Dany returned her attention to the Tyrells.
Notes:So there was confusion last chapter on whether Fitz was being rude or not. So let's get into it. Fitz is being treated in the North, with the height of respect and value. He's being kept in fine rooms, given a servant to help him with his work, and has servants caring for his rooms and person. He's had an obscene amount of money poured into whatever he's wanted. Like the amount of metal, supplies that have to be brought in, the ink, parchment, medical care, an entire wardrobe ect he has received is all expensive as fuck. He's seated with the highest nobility in the North at meals. He's allowed access to the royal family. And that's not just cause Daisy's essentially claimed him, although yeah that influences it, but he's done things of note. The c-section, paper, he made a tesla coil which certainly has wow factor, his being involved with the glass, his involvement with the dry moats, disinfectant, ect. And he's managed to piss away every bit of that good will.
Fitz isn't playing politics or just being a bit rude, he's being straight-up atrocious. He complains about the North, constantly. He's so rude he's not even meeting the minimal 'please' and 'thank you' bar. He treats the hospitality he's given like it's garbage he has to tolerate. He speaks to everyone around him like they are idiots and beneath his notice. He's made no friends. The only people who tolerate him are Rickon, Crann, and Wolkan. He's been there a year, and there's three people who spend time with him and one of them is paid to do it. Sansa is a Queen and his host and he can't even be bothered to pretend to be polite to her.
Which of course is how he acts in canon more and more with every season. There's a reason Mace doesn't give Fitz any rank in SHIELD. There's a reason Fitz is never the scientist sent to like do anything involving other people. He's a dick to everyone. He screams and throws tantrums including punching walls, throwing things, smashing things, ect, he guilt trips anyone who disagrees with him, refuses to listen to other people if it's not what he wants to hear, he treats rules like they are for other people in a way that stands out even among the other SHIELD agents. Like Fitz…Fitz reacts to his trauma by closing off from other people and becoming more and more focused on himself, and more and more dissociated from seeing other people as people. There's a reason why if he'd stayed in the canon AoS timeline by now he'd have considered 8billion people a reasonable sacrifice for a few increased probability points, asked Enoch and Daisy to die for him, and purposefully traumatized Mack, Coulson, Daisy, Deke, Jemma, and May without their permission for the sake of achieving his goals.