Chapter 85Notes:Yo! Hope everyone's new year is starting out well!
Chapter TextMira Lovewell came to a halt as she saw who was in her rooms. "Rodrick." Her brother looked…tired.
"Why did you do it?" He looked at her with so much sorrow. "Our House…I don't know that we can recover from this."
"And you think that's my fault?" She refused to let him put it on her. "You went against the Queen's orders? Are you insane? She hasn't lost a battle yet and we're on the eve of a three, possibly four front war. What did you think was going to happen?"
Rodrick's hand tightened on the arm of the chair. "You abandoned our family, you could have interceded but you what? Spent every piece of political capital we had left to marry a peasant?"
"Don't you dare. Do you know what the last years have been for me? I've given everything for our family." Mira hissed. "I was in the south, alone. I was surrounded by monsters, my life preserved because of Margaery and yet I still did as mother asked. I interceeded for our family. I made a trade deal with Tyrion Lannister that would have saved us. I fought for our family for months. And what did it do Rodrick?" She gestured with her hand sharply. "Nothing. I was forced into marriage with that disgusting Morgryn. Where was our family when my head nearly was upon the chopping block? Where were you? Where were you for the months I had to let that man fuck me as he pleased? What was I to you brother? While you and everyone else were here in the North licking your wounds did you even bother to write?"
He flinched at her words, but his mind was unchanged. "You know there was nothing I could have done."
"No, there was nothing anyone could have done was there? Not until I was useful again. And Margaery could afford to save me then if it got her brother to safety. And you could welcome me home, to safety when it cost you nothing. But now you would have needed me and don't pretend you wouldn't have used me. Which one of the old fuckers here would you have sold me to? Umber? Maybe one of the Flints?"
Rodrick stood then, his face that had always meant safety and warmth was pained. "You can't think that of me."
"You would need a powerful ally to convince the Queen to spare you at least some of the punishment she's alloted to our House. And you'd need a powerful ally to keep the other Houses from treating us like we have greyscale. So tell me, who would you have need made an alliance with? Who would you have sold me to? Who would you have fuck me for heirs or spares in exchange for your security? Not mine. Yours."
He swallowed. "It would not have come to that. I wouldn't have let it."
"If you hadn't you'd have doomed your son, wife, and our living siblings. You would have done what you always do Rodrick. The Lordly thing. The right thing. And I would have paid the price, again. So yes, I sold myself. But not to Conin, though I am glad I chose him. He is kind and good and respects me. I sold myself to the Queen. And I can't save you Rodrick, but I can help your son, your wife, and our living siblings. For a price, I decided to pay." Mira hated speaking like this to her brother. Because for all he was being an idiot she loved him.
His shoulders slumped. "I'm being sent to the Shadow Tower, to hold it against the Dead. It's a death sentence."
"And would have been the Whitehill's death sentence if you had done as you were commanded." Mira felt a desperation. "Why? We had everything!"
His jaw clenched. "You're right, you weren't here watching what they did to us. To Asher, Ethan, to half our household."
"And they paid for it, Rodrick. And us? Talia, Tyon, your new wife, and son? We all are still alive!" Mira felt tears in the back of her throat. "So you have to go to the Shadow Tower, and our family is ruined. So yes, I went against you, I married without your permission."
Rodrick just…he ran a hand through his hair. "I can't change my actions. What's done is done."
"Yes, what's done is done." She swallowed. "Will I be permitted to see our family?"
He looked stricken. "Mira! I would never prevent that."
She couldn't help it, she hugged her brother. He was warm and safe and she wished she could still believe that as he hugged her back. "I'm not sorry."
"I'm still going to punch your husband." He grumbled into her hair as he tightened his arms around her.
Mira didn't say anything, Conin would be fine. She'd kiss it better.
////
Arya's eyes slid over the note. It wasn't particularly interesting, though no doubt Sansa would be interested in the fact that Baelish was attempting to locate uncle Edmure. Not that anyone had high hopes the man lived. She raised a brow as she read another letter. Fascinating, he'd written to Bravos.
"Your Highness, I wasn't expecting you?" His slimy though actually, surprised voice came from the doorway.
She didn't take her eyes away from the letter. "That would require knowing I was coming here."
"Is there something you require? I'd be happy to be of service." He shut the door behind him as he fully entered his own chambers.
Arya ignored him, Baelish wasn't the kind of threat that meant she needed to worry about him attacking her. "Your letters are less interesting than I was expecting." Her voice was bland as she finished reading the letter in her hands.
"It is considered rude to read other people's letters." Though he didn't sound insulted, rather interested.
She finally looked at him. "Manners can go fuck themselves." When the time was right she'd enjoy gutting him. "And it's considered rude to write letters to find people's secrets and not even ask them first."
"Simple precaution. You are most interesting, Princess." He poured a cup of wine and gestured to the second cup in invitation.
Arya shook her head even as her eye twitched at the title of 'princess'. "You must enjoy licking my sister's boots."
"I would think you'd be pleased at service to your sister?" Baelish's flat eyes had depths that she knew hid monstrousness.
But then, she was a monster in the shadows as well. "I'll tell you what I think. I think you've found nothing. I think you tried to find whispers about me over the course of the whole war. Not hard, I'm not as pretty as Sansa after all. But I think your failure to find anything drives you crazy."
He took the change of subject without hesitation. "You certainly leave little record of your passing. Though knowing who you are now, there is a trail of bodies to be found." His eyes flicked to her sword. "You're quite talented with that."
"Trant?" It wouldn't be unreasonable if he'd found that particular kill.
Baelish was irritatingly smug. "Just one of many you left lying in their own blood over the years. No doubt difficult to prove with how bloody those years have been."
"Your hands aren't cleaner than mine. It's in the eyes." Arya held his gaze challengingly, her sister's words about how the man thought. Give him ground to sink his claws, and draw him into their trap. And a whiff of influence and access to Sansa would be all the bait he should need. But first to gain his interest.
His lips curled. "You flatter me, but whose hands are not unbloodied by war?"
Arya felt the desire to curl her lip up in disgust, but well, the House of Black and White had taught her better than that. Instead, she just watched him, curious what he'd do when faced with silence. And he didn't disappoint, eventually speaking.
"Forgive me your Highness, but what is this about?" His voice had a deepness that wasn't entirely natural to it.
She let her teeth show. "My sister means to name me Master of Whispers, I thought that might be something you were interested in. If I'm wrong I can go."
Arya snagged her sister's cup of tea and knocked it back. "Lord Baelish has agreed to assist me in my new position. I need a bath." She grimaced. "Why do you like tea again? It's disgusting leaf juice."
"Daisy drinks it constantly, I've picked up the habit." Sansa replied dryly while taking the cup back. "Anything we hadn't expected in his correspondence?"
She hummed. "No, he's interested in Bravos and the Riverlands. I'll have more luck with the whores."
"If you could avoid everyone seeing you at the whorehouse I'd appreciate that." Sansa signed off the letter she'd been writing. "And the less interest you could show in Edmund Blackwood the better."
Arya placed the name with the boy about her age from the Riverlands. "Why?"
"Because he's not the worst option for me to marry once I'm no longer able to put it off and he's a better option than some. I'd rather keep him alive and out of Baelish's claws as long as possible." Sansa said like that made a lick of sense.
Her brow furrowed. "You're fucking a god?"
"Who will leave, and when she does I'd rather be prepared than forced to marry someone foul." Sansa looked at her, her face was that cold queenly look she got sometimes where reading her was basically impossible. Arya was pretty sure what it was hiding was pain. "And Edmund Blackwood I could live with."
Arya gaped at her sister. "Do you think maybe your god might have some thoughts on the fact you're apparently planning on marrying as soon as she leaves?"
"It's necessary, once she leaves there will be expectations. I'd be an idiot not to prepare for it while I can. And Daisy doesn't need to hear of it. She likely can guess at it, but it would hurt her to know." Sansa's mask had a fraction of a crack which was gone as quickly as it'd come. But it was pain.
Arya's fingers curled around Needle's handle. "You're not some bargaining chip."
"I am." Sansa's face was sharp then. "What brief time I am allowed to have a lover who I…who I love is more than I could have hoped for. But it's a dream Arya, a beautiful one but a dream. And the day will come when it's time to wake up. And I would have my life once this dream is over not return to a waking nightmare."
Arya's teeth felt like fangs. "That's crap."
"It's the truth." Sansa didn't waver. "Our people, our family come before personal wants. If I marry correctly the rest of you will have more options. When war comes our vassals will be more loyal. Our lands better protected. That I am allowed a brief window with a woman I love is enough. We have our duties."
"I think that might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Arya wondered if it was possible to slap that much stupidity out of a person. "You're the Queen, anyone tries to force you into marriage tell 'em to fuck off?"
Sansa blew out a long breath. "If I don't marry what do you think happens?"
The hair on the back of Arya's neck stood on end. "The old idiot Lords can pout about it?"
"Rickon's betrothal to Lyarra will have to be broken. I'll need to wed him to the Blackwood girl, possibly a Mallister or Piper girl. Someone within our kingdom but of a powerful enough House he'll have a strong ally. You would need to wed. I could let you marry a Wildling if he suited you I suppose, give you the Karhold. Perhaps a Vale knight, maybe Jasper who's terrified of your very shadow. Bran would need wed, likely to the Vale if you didn't marry there. His inability to produce heirs would be problematic, but if one or two of Rickon's future children married into the Vale it'd be doable." Sansa's blue eyes were cold. "Don't you see? My marriage buys the rest of you time and options. We're a pack, I won't sacrifice all of you for my own wants."
Arya's teeth clenched, she could see the stubborn streak in her sister. Which, if she was honest, they all shared. "Getting rid of a few husband options wouldn't be the end of the world."
"Oh, I'm sure Baelish will take care of that for me." Sansa leaned back in her seat. "We just need to ensure he gets rid of the ones we want gone. For instance, no doubt Mallister has a wedding or scandal awaiting him. LIkely cousin Robyn as well. A thing I'd appreciate your assistance with."
Arya felt her knuckles turning white under her leather gloves. "How are you so sure your lover means to leave at all? If she remains this is all pointless."
"This isn't her world. She has a home, a family, and a duty to her own. I could no more ask her to remain here than she could ask me to go with her." Sansa held her gaze. "Find out who Lord Baelish considers competition for my hand."
Arya narrowed her eyes. Well, that was some fucking shit. But, her sister had her heels dug in at the moment. "Fine. It's still a stupid idea."
"Thank you." Sansa paused. "And Arya, I am grateful for what you are doing."
She tipped her chin. "The pack survives." And she was half tempted to tell her dumbass sister's lover about Sansa's idiot ideas. But Jon would work just as well and neatly avoid doing something Sansa would definitely kill her for. That was if Jon would get his stupid ass back from the south anytime soon. She'd forgive him if he brought dragons.
////
Rickon stared at Bran, willing his brother to look back at him, to be the sibling he remembered best from before. His older brother that he loved, visceral, and this…thing that had replaced him. "Aren't you cold?"
"I don't really feel it any longer." Bran's dead, an empty voice replied from where he was sitting in his chair at the base of the heart tree.
He ground his teeth together. "Even trees feel cold."
"They feel a lot." Bran turned his cold gaze on him. It was worse than being ignored.
Rickon squirmed at the emotionless regard. "Don't you wanna do anything other than stare at trees?"
His brother looked at him then with an emptiness that might have been sorrow. "The Long Night is coming, there is nothing else."
His jaw ached. He jumped to his feet. "Fine, be cold and miserable out here by yourself then." Turning sharply he walked as fast as he could without running. He needed away from his brother, from the fucking tree, from the magic and insanity that had stolen his brother from him. If he asked Osha he knew she'd tell him the old gods did as they will. Which wasn't helpful, and Fitz would just hand him more things to learn and he was…he was angry.
As his quick strides took him out of the gods' wood he considered finding Arya or Sansa. They would understand but…but they'd be sad too. Which was worse somehow. Instead, he moved without thinking, like he was drawn by a string to the stables where he knew Shaggydog was. The smell of horses was strong, though not unpleasant. The stable hands kept the stalls clean, it mostly smelt of hay, leather, and horse flesh.
He came to a stretching halt as he spotted someone brushing his wolf. His first instinct was to yell at them to get off, Shaggydog didn't like being touched. Only…he could feel his wolf's pleased feelings. Shaggydog was carefully angling his back so his scratchiest spots could get combed properly, his tail wagging. He blinked. "Lyarra?"
Lyarra Karstark gave him a deeply unimpressed look before going back to brushing Shaggydog. "You don't brush him enough. He'll get matted."
"He's a direwolf, not a pet dog?" Rickon frowned as he stalked closer, but he held his tongue from too much upset. He could tell Shaggydog would nip him if he did something to stop the brushing. Watching her suspiciously he stopped an arm's length away. "You're not going to put ribbons in his fur or something?"
She huffed. "He's a wolf." Lyarra looked at Shaggydog critically. "You might want to speak with the armorer about some for him, like what the horses have."
"It'd slow him down." Rickon softened, that wasn't so bad. "What are you doing here?"
Lyarra gave him a look she had to have learned from his sister, it was distinctly disquieting. "I like horses, it's a stable. You're the one who doesn't brush your direwolf enough."
He felt his cheeks heating at that, it wasn't his fault Shaggydog liked rolling in the dirt and running through briars. He brushed him plenty. "Are you going to dump manure on me again?"
"Only if you deserve it." She replied with a sniff.
Rickon really wondered why girls hated him sometimes. At least Lyanna would have the good sense to just clobber him with an axe to his face. He felt a great deal more nervous about the strange creature who was his betrothed. But…Shaggydog liked her? "So..er…"
"You're not very good at talking to people are you?" Lyarra turned and looked at him.
He shuffled. "No?"
"Well, at least you like animals." She set the brush down. "Can you warg into horses?"
That was… "Sometimes? I'm not very good at animals that don't hunt."
"I suppose that makes sense." Lyarra's eyes squinted as she looked at him. "You don't brush your own hair enough."
Rickon's cheeks were definitely hot. "Well, that's just…stupid. Why'd I waste time making everything all perfect like a southerner?"
"Your sister's not a southerner and her hair is always pretty." She ruthlessly pointed out.
His nose wrinkled. "But she's Sansa? Everyone looks messy next to her."
"You're not wrong." Lyarra sighed. "I wish I was that perfect."
Rickon eyed her. "I don't think anyone can be that perfect."
"True." She stepped right up to him. "Look, I don't like you. I don't think you like me?"
That was a trap…it felt like a trap. "You dumped manure over my head."
"Yes, what I'm saying is marrying would be terrible, yes?" She waited for him to reply.
Rickon nervously licked his lips. "Yes…?"
"Queen Sansa says we don't have to, not really." Lyarra's eyes sparked.
He frowned, piecing together what she was getting at. "She said she wouldn't make that decision till we were older?"
"Well yes, but I'd rather ride horses and brush your direwolf than try to be giggly over you." She poked his chest.
Rickon lit up as he suddenly got it. "You mean just go on like we're not going to get married?"
"We'd have to still spend time together. Mother would have a fit if we didn't." Lyarra cautioned.
He nodded. "No more manure?"
"Would you stop whining about the manure? You deserved it anyways." She huffed in sheer exasperation.
Rickon just shrugged, he probably did. "So horses?"
"Do you think if you spent enough time staring at one you'd be able to warg one even if they aren't predators?" She asked.
He bit at his lip. "I'm getting good at cats?"
"Well, let's try. It sounds better than watching you and Lyanna Mormont whacking each other with swords." She nodded, grabbed his arm, and dragged him towards the nearest horse.
Rickon got the distinct impression that Shaggydog was laughing at him. But also at least she wasn't trying to kick him in the shins….and warging a horse would probably be cool.
Chapter 86Notes:Sup!
Chapter TextDaisy watched the tiny forms of people down below in the green fields spreading out from the white walls of Highgarden. It was beautiful, gorgeous honestly. But she really just wanted to be back in Winterfell listening to Sansa complain about her stubborn Lords. She smiled slightly at the sound of some faint panting and heavy footsteps approaching her.
"Is there a reason you insist on finding the highest points of every castle you enter?" Jon grumbled as he walked over to her.
She reached out and shoved his shoulder lightly. "You chose to live on a seven hundred foot wall of ice."
"It was terrible." He replied without hesitation or a flicker of humor as he grimaced at the dizzying height below them. Bracing himself he leveraged himself up, and his feet over so that he was sitting beside her, his boots hanging out over the empty height.
Daisy's light smile widened, though she was prepared to grab him if he overbalanced. "I like it up here."
"Why?" He looked at her clearly baffled.
She looked away from him. The sunlight was golden as the sun hovered near the horizon, it'd be setting soon. "I always liked small enclosed spaces, but ever since I got here everyone finds me far too quickly in them."
"Should I leave you?" He asked.
Daisy shook her head. "You're fine, there's always room for you up here." She shrugged. "Besides, I was never afraid of heights."
He settled more comfortably at the indication he was welcome. Though he was clearly pondering something.
She left him to it. It was peaceful up here, she could let the vibrations dance around her and just listen to them. The more she listened the more texture they seemed to gain. Daisy was considering trying to see if she could adjust the light all around them. Might freak out the dragon though, which would probably be bad. She could handle it but…making dragons look dumb would be bad for the balance of power. Well, too dumb. Probably. Her inner voice that sounded a lot like Coulson said not to risk it.
"I handled it poorly, to say the least, but could we speak of you and my sister?" Jon asked finally.
Daisy looked at him in surprise. "Sure? What's up?"
"I know…I know you care for her. But what are your intentions?" His solemn eyes felt like a weight as he looked at her.
She…forced herself not to brush off the question like she instinctively wished to. "To help her, and you and everyone survive your Long Night, to not fuck up things too badly and as long as she wants me, to not fuck that up either."
"Do you make her happy?" Jon asked quietly, an uncomfortable genuine honesty to the question.
A part of her wanted to squirm away but…not all of her. "I try to." She folded her arms over her stomach. "Sometimes she smiles and it's like…I can't look away, and I know I put that look on her face." Daisy blew out a breath, she knew Jon was waiting to hear if she would continue. Andrew would be so proud if he was still alive, this medieval world was making her talk about her feelings…like so much.
Jon nodded. "I…why her? You're a god, even if you don't act like one most of the time. You could have anyone, I'm half-convinced the Tyrells want you to try and woo Daenerys. Why my sister?"
She snorted. "First, they absolutely want that but haven't decided if it's possible yet. I think they'd chuck anyone I even looked at twice at me if they could…I'm going to have to just talk to the married ones for a while." Daisy's humor faded as she considered his actual question. "I don't know…you don't need me to tell you Sansa's special."
"No, I don't suppose I do." His lips twitched upwards, the deep adoration he felt for his family plain to be seen. "Humor me?"
"She's fierce, intelligent even if she insists on saying she's not, and kind. I don't…people fear what I am, but she never did, only what I could do." Daisy still wasn't entirely sure why that mattered so fucking much, but it did.
Jon frowned. "What you are?"
"I wasn't always a god or whatever I am, Jon." She blew out a breath. "I was just inhuman, grew up thinking I was human. And then…do you understand what being inhuman means?"
He shook his head. "I can't say I do."
"The Kree needed foot soldiers in their war, slave soldiers. Mortal life span, human weakness, but containing the power to kill a god." Daisy scoffed, the deep disgust at the knowledge of what the Kree were. Statistically, at least one Kree had to not be a pile of dicks…she wasn't holding her breath. "So they made them. I don't know what the process was exactly to make humans with the right amount of Kree in them, but it was horrific. The other gods consider us abominations. Horrors of a war not talked about, they like to pretend we don't exist and if they find us then they either enslave us as convenient soldiers or kill us. And humans? We're the monsters of your nightmares. My team, my family were terrified of me once they knew what I was."
"Daisy." Jon looked horrified, his eyes wide.
She kept going, her voice speeding up. "Fuck, Jemma and Mack wanted to kill me before I could kill them. It didn't matter that I never wanted it, that I'd only had days to try and control it. Couldn't make up their minds so they dumped me in a prison in the middle of fucking nowhere so I couldn't be a threat to them. But that wasn't enough for a faction in SHIELD. So they sent a kill squad after me. I leveled a forest just trying to not die."
She scoffed. "And then I was with the other Inhumans in Afterlife and I thought…I don't know. But I wasn't right for them. Too connected to humans, a soldier for a cause I wasn't willing to reject just because people were scared."
Daisy's eyes felt like they were burning. "It all went to hell, people died, my dad killed my mom. And I was a SHIELD agent again, but they all thought of me as Coulson's pet monster. Hive proved them all right. I didn't end up as…whatever I am, because I wanted it. I never wanted it, but I wasn't given a choice. Not really. If they needed my power no one cared if it hurt me, not after they knew I wasn't human. Not even Coulson. If I could still walk I could fight, didn't matter if I was bleeding, if my bones were shattering. I didn't get to grieve or stop, because if I wasn't fighting I was a threat to be stopped. But I believe in SHIELD's mission, in protecting those who can't protect themselves so I did it. I fought, and I fought. I dragged my bleeding, shattered body through. I tried not to get angry when they always thought I was a monster when it was my blood on their hands."
"And when the world was ending, and billions of lives were at stake, I fought against Talbot, the World Killer by myself. I lay in a crater, my veins burning as power I didn't want burned through me and I was alone. And then I got up and helped carry Fitz's dead body back to tell my best friend, his wife, that I hadn't been able to save him. And dying in a bed in the same room we brought Fitz to was Coulson." Daisy knew she was bitter, months to go over the events at the end of the world, over, and over…she didn't understand why she'd been alone against Talbot. Her eyes burned as tears spilled that she resolutely wiped away. Everyone else had been together, but she'd faced death alone. Again. "And then it didn't matter that I lost Coulson, what mattered was Jemma had lost Fitz. So we traveled the stars to try and bring a version of him back. And the gods and monsters that would have done anything to enslave or kill me before started running in terror."
Jon was looking at her in horror, no words coming. Struck dumb by information he didn't even have all the tools to understand correctly.
"I came out of your heart tree, I slaughtered the Boltons because they were disgusting monsters who'd have never stopped hurting other people. I've never been so blatant with my powers in my life as I've been since I got here. And your sister not once was afraid of what I was. She judged me by what I did, never what I was." Daisy swallowed. "She only ever asked, never expected or assumed or demanded. How can I not want to make her happy? To just be near her?"And…Daisy's throat felt wet and dry all at once, her eyes blurry with tears as her shoulders shivered from holding herself together, and her voice cracked. "How can I not love her?"
Jon grabbed her and hauled her into his arms. He was firm and there, holding her so tightly that if she'd been human it might have bruised. And Daisy…Daisy didn't know why but she cried, burying her face in his shoulder, with its stupid Tyrell velvet doublet, her fingers curling in the front of the stupid thing. And maybe…maybe she did know why she was crying. Because she hadn't let herself cry in so long, because she'd had to be the strong one. The one holding everything together, not showing weakness. The one not allowed to.
The sounds she made were definitely ugly choked sobs, and the no doubt exorbitantly expensive doublet def was not surviving it. But she didn't care. Instead, she felt boneless as sobs wracked her, and Jon held her as tightly as he could. As he didn't pull back despite the fact her powers had to be spilling out. That he had to be able to feel just how horrifically dangerous she could be.
"You're not a monster." Jon's voice was rough as he somehow managed to hug her tighter against her. "You never could be."
Daisy wasn't sure what the sound she made at that was, but she couldn't have stopped it. Didn't try to, just leaning into him harder. Whether she was shaking from her powers or sobs was… likely both, she just uncontrollably was. And he didn't let go.
////
Fitz's shoulders were faintly hunched as he stepped into Sansa's office. He distinctly did not like the conversation he needed to have with the woman. His eyes flicked over the guard, a man he'd seen around bent over paper, quill in hand, and Lord Manderly sitting in front of where Sansa was behind her desk. There was a servant sweeping by the fire, but frankly, Fitz could care less.
"Fitz, you wished to have a word with me?" Sansa's clear blue eyes were as unfriendly as usual when she looked at him.
He squashed his instinctive dislike for the woman. "There's some things you should probably know about Daisy."
"About her sense of dress?" Sansa said slowly while looking at him with something that might have been confusion if she wasn't nearly as expressionless as May.
He grimaced. "No, about …you two being...together? Cause it's been…a while and you're still…a thing."
"You sound surprised?" Manderly chuckled.
Fitz winced. "Well…yeah?"
Sansa finally nodded. "I assume you wish for this to be an at least slightly private conversation?"
"Yes." Fitz's fingers twitched. This was just…weird? Daisy had to pick the most difficult person in her vicinity to get attached to.
She didn't look away from his face for a few agonizing seconds. "Very well, Lord Manderly, Bower, we'll finish our work in the morning."
Manderly heaved himself to his feet, bowing his head in deep respect. "Till then, your Grace."
Fitz shifted awkwardly as he waited for the room to be emptied. He did notice the guard was very much going nowhere…but they all were terrified of Daisy so it was probably fine. He was pretty sure that one was one of Daisy's even if he didn't have a leaf with a wolf on it pinned to his person somewhere. He shuffled to the side so he wasn't in the way as they left.
"Well, what is so important that I know it?" Sansa asked as the door shut.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Daisy's my best friend. I know…things are…not right between us right now. But she's still my best friend. And there are things…things that would matter here that I don't think you'd know to do."
Something eased ever so slightly about Sansa, she waved to the chair. Frankly, years with May were the only reason he noted the change at all. "Please, do you want wine or tea or something?" She rose to her feet and walked to the sideboard. Her hands preparing a cup of tea with practiced motions.
"Tea, yeah, tea'd be nice." He frowned. "The greying angry one is Barbrey right?" Fitz waited for an amused twitch on Sansa's face and a faint tip of her head before continuing. "She wasn't wrong."
Sansa stepped to the chair opposite him, leaving the kettle over the fire. Her face was about as easy to read as a rock. "She rarely is, and she is quite blunt."
"Yes well." Fitz licked at his lips nervously. "Look, you are different than who she usually…goes for."
She raised a brow. "So you assumed she would get me out of her system and move on?"
He winced. "Kinda. It doesn't help you're…the worst person she could have chosen." Fitz ignored how the guard was shifting in outrage. "Not cause you're not a good person or whatever. But…this is your home."
"I don't believe I take your meaning, but I assume you don't intend that as an insult." Her voice was dry.
Fitz huffed. "You're the Queen. We can't take you with us when we l-leave. If she'd been into…basically anyone else it wouldn't be an issue."
"You dislike me because there is an end to your time here." Sansa's eyes held his. "That is a reason I can respect, why not continue ignoring me whenever possible?"
He leaned back. "Because stupid or not, she's with you. So I should tell you what she won't..probably. It'd be kinda obvious to us but different world, different customs."
"What customs do you think I should know?" Sansa asked her attention certainly on him.
Fitz straightened, right the easy part. "Well considering she hasn't slept in her room since…its been a while, you might want to put a drawer or something of her clothing in your room. That's just polite really. I know you all act like she's more masculine than she is, but she's very much a girl. Flowers are normal. And, well, with all the guards and the castle thing keys don't really work here…don't get her a ring. That's a very specific gift to us, don't do it." He bit the inside of his cheek. "If it's not weird for you guys if you sewed one of your wolves onto something of hers she'd wear it…."
"I'm not entirely stupid." Sansa accepted a cup of tea from her guard. "While I thank you for the suggestions, they're not what you're avoiding saying."
He was trying to help which meant…he had to make her understand. "Daisy and I…we're not civilians. And her more, she's a specialist. That means…relationships are different for them."
"Different how?" She blew on the surface of her tea.
Fitz gave a brief nod to the guard as he was handed his own tea. "She'll never tell you she loves you if she's smart." He met her eyes. "Specialists don't…they don't do feelings or really relationships much. It tends to go really bad when they try."
"Excuse me?" She asked.
He winced. "It's just…we never are anywhere longer than a few days really. Weeks at most. It's why most relationships for specialists are well with other specialists, so hard and fast between missions. You guys seem c-conservative about sex even to civilians of our world, and specialists are looser about sex than civilians. And relationships longer than a few months are…almost unheard of. When they do happen it's usually between other specialists. And it doesn't tend to end well then either."
Sansa just sipped tea, listening, like she didn't care or understand what he was trying to explain.
"And Daisy was never one of the fuck buddy in every port type. But her relationships are disasters. Miles and Ward were scum, Lincoln died. She just…she's not some romantic hero like even I hear people describe." He needed her to get it. Because Daisy cared, but that didn't mean she wouldn't fuck it up. Especially if this very proper woman in front of him was expecting her to be some romantic, passionately openly in love sort.
////
Sansa stared at the man before her and felt…baffled. "You think that matters?"
"What?" He looked flummoxed.
She realized he really meant it. "For being such a clever man you are very stupid sometimes."
"Excuse me?" He puffed up slightly in outrage, which honestly for how rude he was constantly he really couldn't take an insult.
Sansa ignored his upset. "Do you think I've listened to nothing Daisy has said to me? Do you think we don't speak at all?"
"She explained that to you?" The actual incredulity in his voice was galling.
She didn't roll her eyes. "Some, but do you think I am a shallow woman?"
He frowned. "No?"
"Then why bring this to me? I do not believe you mean it maliciously, but how would any of this help your best friend?" She could see what he thought he was doing. But it all… did he think that little of his friend? Did he think she wasn't keenly aware that there was an end to what she had with Daisy?
Fitz set his tea aside. "Because Daisy won't mean to hurt you. But if you expect her to do or say things she won't you will get hurt. And Daisy wouldn't want that."
"I see." Sansa had questions, not the ones he likely thought to inspire, and they certainly weren't for him, but she would allow he'd inspired them. "You put a lot of value in words. Words are wind. What a person does is what matters, and in every way, Daisy has been a far better person than you give her credit for. I know that a day will come when you and she will leave for your world, for your duty and home. You do not need to tell me that. And you are right, that will hurt me. But I've known that since the beginning. So you should take your concern and you may leave."
Sansa looked at the fabrics and partially done work from the day's work of the ladies of her court. She considered the time. "If I tell you the fabric and the cut would you aid me in making something? It would be limited time to complete it."
"How limited and how expansive of a project, your Grace?" Mira Lovewell asked curiously from where she was folding the shirt for Daisy that she'd been working on that day. It was all neatly done, the lace more evocative of a dress's lines were really quite pretty.
She picked up the fine wool cloth that was in the specific green of House Stark, and another bolt of the wool in grey. "A vest for now."
"For one of your brothers?" Mira asked, faint confusion there would be little reason for a project for one of her brothers to take time.
Reaching up she carefully touched the silver pendant that lay under the fabric of her gown. "For her Holiness." It was…well even if it was a mistake it was not as if Daisy would be upset by the gesture.
Mira stilled. "These are Stark colors?"
"They are." Sansa agreed.
Mira seemed slightly unsure, her words cautious. "Of course, you would know better than any, but might that not…possibly be received poorly, your Grace?"
Sansa gently hooked the pendant out from under her dress, pulling it visibly out. She noted the exact second Mira spotted it. "I think perhaps it is not so great a risk."
Mira swallowed, her eyes wide. "I believe we can manage a simple vest before her Holiness's return if we keep it simple and elegant."
"Thank you." Sansa turned meeting her lady in waiting's gaze. "Lord and Lady Cerwyn return to us on the morrow, I believe you can ensure Lady Cerwyn is prepared to assist you with your duties?"
Mira gave a dip of her head. "Of course, if I may, why not wait till Lord Manderly's granddaughters can join us to name Lady Cerwyn to such a position? Between my brother's actions and Alys was a Karstark until two months ago."
"There is work to be done. The Lords can grumble about the family of traitors being rewarded all they wish. I can afford those grumbles for the price of competent help and they will not last long." Sansa waived off, she'd already considered the worst case options for people noting her propensity for taking the women of treasonous Houses under her protection and making use of them rather than letting them fall into disgrace and be left to rot. It was more likely the Lords would take it as a threat than a slight to themselves. If they were in the days after a war perhaps it would be a cause of concern. But not now. "Tell me, anything interesting in the sewing circles today I should be aware of?"
Chapter 87Notes:Happy friday guys!
Chapter TextOlenna popped a fig into her mouth. "I must say, your Dothraki are quite spectacular, your Grace."
"They are great warriors." Daenerys agreed from her seat as they watched over the most lavish feast that could be prepared without it being gauche considering the circumstances. And while avoiding inviting a large number of nobility from the Reach. War did necessitate such concessions after all.
Olenna eyed the warriors who guarded their mutual Queen, they indeed were a sight, as was the great hoard outside their walls. "No doubt if the remaining Lannister forces meet them in the field your children won't even be needed for victory." She didn't mention the weighted looks several of the noble women there were giving the Dothraki. Though Olenna could admit she saw the draw.
"Hmm…quite a lot of trust in us to arrive ahead of your vast army alone?" Olenna wondered if it was recklessness or political astuteness.
Daenerys looked at her. "You would not have harmed me, not with my child above you, and my army a day away. The only one who could hope to stand against such a force is the Goddess currently trying to talk with one of my guards…I'm unsure how much they understand of one another."
"Well reasoned, your Grace." She eyed where the Goddess was gleefully attempting a conversation with a very enthusiastic Dothraki. It seemed to be about hair? "We will not forget you made a deal with a Goddess to save us."
Daenerys's purple eyes examined her, that spark of intelligence that had told Olenna this was the basket she needed for her revenge to be seen to. "No doubt you will prove it a cost worth paying."
"A mad price to pay, but perhaps the right amount of madness." Olenna raised her glass goblet towards the queen before drinking.
There was the faintest twitch at the word 'mad' but otherwise, the queen remained unperturbed. "Varys cautioned against the bargain. But if everything he told me is true, the North would never have bent the knee regardless."
"No, they likely would not have." Olenna agreed, best ensure no one put stupid ideas into the queen's head, like the North being anything more than a death and resource trap for her. "Likely the Riverlands and Vale will be little better for you." She eyed the god. "The Vale might bend, but at least half the Riverlands will die for the Starks rather than bend. Brave, but incredibly stupid." She noted the faint tightening of the Queen's mouth. "There are ways around all that. Besides, you have a Stark Prince vying for your hand. He wouldn't be hard to look at if you marry the man."
Daenerys sipped at her wine, her eyes traveling to where Prince Jon looked confused and slightly concerned as he attempted to follow along with whatever the Goddess and the Dothraki were speaking of. "Tell me, do you believe I should accept his suit?"
"I couldn't say, you'd be the one forced to live with him." Olenna was still unsure who the boy's blasted mother was. He could either be a vital necessity or a tolerable if insulting option. It all came down to his blasted mother, and just how terrifying Goddess Quake was. Two things she was unsure of.
Daenerys raised a brow. "I gave up the North for House Tyrell. I will not marry into it as well."
"No hope there?" Olenna sighed. "Well, that's that then." She could hear the certainty there. Unless something catastrophic happened that was the voice of a woman who'd made up her mind. It wasn't even a poor decision. It was hard to make a House more tightly indebted to you than acquiring divine intervention and debt on behalf of them. And House Tyrell would not benefit from further chaos. She could do something to see Tyrion Lannister removed from his position as Hand and her Willas put in the post instead. Once the Westerlands were retaken the man might step down from the position of his own accord. Rebuilding that soon to be leveled kingdom would require a great deal of attention. "Then I'd say marry the man. He'll do you more good than some Dornish prince or Riverlord."
Her lips twitched slightly. "Advice some would not agree with."
"Yes well, men are idiots sometimes. A Lord of the Vale might save you the loss of that kingdom, but with a Goddess supporting the Northern claim, well, you might even get the Vale as a concession with the marriage and some of the Riverlands if you're very good at negotiating the alliance and the North is very desperate." Olenna knew it would depend less on the people here than it would on the Northern Queen. Which left the question, was the frightened, stupid and uninteresting girl from King's Landing a lie, or was she the truth? "Perhaps you should wait for your Hand for the rest of this conversation?"
Daenerys made a sound of faint amusement. "You're not wrong."
"I do believe our conversation is at an end anyways." Olenna was going to enjoy the disaster about to occur. Because Jon Stark was approaching.
The poor stiff man bowed. "Your Grace." He held out his hand. "If I could have this dance?"
"You may, your Highness." Daenerys was looking at him with the look of a woman judging a man's worth as she set her hand in his, half challenge written across her face.
Olenna watched as he led the Dragon Queen to the dance floor. She popped another fig into her mouth only to pause as their resident goddess dropped unceremoniously onto the chair the Queen had just vacated. The chair that was the closest thing they had to a throne. A chair the goddess hadn't shown the least bit of interest in since her arrival. "Expecting your prince to be that poor of a dancer?"
"He needs at least six pints before he'll loosen up enough to resemble a good dancer instead of an uncomfortable if practiced one." Goddess Quake replied lightly while swiping a fig for herself. "And unless I'm very wrong, I don't believe Dany's a pinnacle of dancing ability either. If we got them both drunk enough they might pull it off."
Olenna judged the way Daenerys and Jon were walking out onto the dance floor. "So preventing the Queen from fleeing. And if your prince decides to flee?"
"Then I'm a much better dancer than him and will help her out." She smiled. "Though you're underestimating Jon, he'll keel over and die before he abandons anyone."
Olenna made a sound of frustration, honestly…the likely future consort to their Queen was…well he was boring and would certainly not be providing the southern court with a political mind in defense of the Targaryen restoration. But he might give them a route to peace before the snows of winter truly set in. And well, he really only was needed to look pretty and give the Queen heirs. "That confident in your dancing, Holiness?"
Goddess Quake laughed. "I like dancing, and your grandson's been teaching me your world's dances." She watched the dancing across the floor. "And it's about control of your body, which isn't so dissimilar to fighting."
"Being light on one's feet is certainly a skill." Olenna considered the woman. "Any of my House would be honored to dance with you should you decide to, and I'd have caned the fools if they skipped those lessons." She kept the goddess in the corner of her eye as she watched the well…it was not a complete disaster of Jon and Daenerys beginning to move. At least both of them were pretty enough it wasn't cringe inducing to watch them.
The Goddess, tipped her head to the side, eyes flicking to where Garlan and Leonette were speaking to one another. "In a bit. I have a retreat to block for now." She winked at Olenna.
Which, fair enough. It wasn't like Daenerys could sit anywhere while her seat was occupied without lowering herself in regards to the goddess. Which meant she was rather trapped on the floor. "So I am to be blessed with your company then?"
"Blessed with my company?" The Goddess looked at her, laughter on her face. "It's so strange you people have decided to be reverent towards me. There's usually more screaming and running, also attempted murder. Not that I don't appreciate not having everyone who spots me flee. But it's weird."
Olenna huffed. "Idiots. I doubt running would do us any good. Besides, I haven't been able to run anywhere in years." She picked up a glass cup of wine and took a drink. "Bloody useless thing to do."
"It really is." The Goddess perked up as she spotted the Queen's translator approaching. "Missandei! It's been ages!"
"You saw me less than two weeks ago, your Holiness." The woman replied without the faintest hint of discomfort or unease at being the focus of a being of indescribable power. Which, nerves of steel with that girl, a talent worth watching.
The Goddess shrugged. "There's been an army since then. And I hear your lover is soon to join us?"
A faint tinge of color rose to the woman's cheeks. "The detachment of the Unsullied are marching as we speak."
"Good for you." The Goddess looked genuinely kind as she waved to the seat next to her. "From what you and Dany say he must be a remarkable man."
Missandei gently took the seat offered. "He is very brave, Holiness."
"Who is this mystery lover of yours then?" Olenna asked half ordered.
Missandei dipped her head slightly. "Grey Worm, General of her Grace's Unsullied forces."
"A eunuch?" Olenna scoffed as she took a drink of her wine. "I am surrounded by women with the strangest taste. A man without a cock for a lover." She shook her head, eying the god. "At least you merely have a taste for innocence."
The Goddess didn't twitch, but a certain something in her tone changed. "Innocence?"
Olenna looked at the goddess over her goblet of wine. "There's no shame in it, lots of men prefer the pretty innocent things. It's a role we all play as women at one point or another." She waived off. Clearly, a topic to be avoided.
"You believe that describes Sansa Stark?" The Goddess's casual body position had turned…looser ever so slightly. It sent a shiver down Olenna's spine.
She looked at the Goddess. "When she wasn't praying for hours in the gods' wood she was sewing in the gardens. Sweet girl, very pretty. I can see the appeal."
"Fascinating." Her eyes no longer smiled as her mouth did. "I wouldn't choose 'pretty' to describe her, but then again I never knew her as a child. Striking definitely, there is something to the blood of her last husband splattered across her face I couldn't look away from. Elegant maybe? She has been cutting the condemned's heads off in a single swing. Ruthless in how she's ended four ancient and noble Houses now. Undefeated even in the battles she didn't personally lead her army to. But then I didn't know her as a child prisoner, alone, without a friend or ally, being tortured in a hostile city for three years. How long did your granddaughter survive with her House, position, wealth, and allies as an adult?"
Olenna nearly dropped her cup as the wine within it froze solid, the stem she was holding turning cold to the touch, her eyes held by the unflinching gaze of a being that was power folded into human skin.
The Goddess spoke, turning her attention back to Missandei and holding her hand out. "May I have this dance?"
"I'm a poor dancer, your Holiness." Missandei deferred. "I have not done so since Master Eraz required me to practice such with his good nephew many years ago now."
Olenna's heart was still racing from the cliff's edge she'd just nearly thrown herself off, but she took back her thoughts on Missandei's nerves, damn woman was turning down a goddess who was already displeased if not outright insulted. Apparently, the woman had enough balls for both herself and her lover's entire fucking army.
"If you don't want to dance, that's fine." Goddess Quake didn't lower her hand. "But I could care less if you step on my toes."
Missandei stared into the goddess's eyes without fear for a long moment, and then accepted the offered hand.
Olenna breathed out in relief as the pair left her. A shiver of sheer terror had gone down her spine for a minute there. Though she supposed that answered her question of how much of the Sansa Stark she'd known had been a mask, and also how the hell the girl had gotten the attention of a fucking Goddess of Ruin. She set her glass goblet of now very frozen wine down and refused to flinch as Willas took the regular seat beside her.
"Grandmother." His face was practiced in its pleasantness. "You look pale?"
She shot a glare at him. "Is that all?" She looked back out at the floor. "Get your brother to ask the Goddess to dance once this one is over."
"Naturally." He looked at her curiously. "What did you say to our holy guest?"
Olenna covered his hand with hers. "Not now." She swallowed, the world was mad. And she was more rattled than she'd like to admit. Because the god had been right. Sansa had survived what had killed women with far more advantages than her.
"Do I need to worry?" Willas asked, face still perfectly pleasant as his voice filled with concern.
She wondered, did they? It was quite clear House Tyrell would not be rising higher than they already stood. At least not unless Garlan and or Leonette actually had caught the attention of the Goddess. A thing that was unlikely, though certainly, they'd made a better impression than the rest of their House, herself included. The Dragon Queen had bound them forever by paying for divine intervention. There was little to be gained by marrying one of their House they were not already obliged to offer, would offer even. A thing Daenerys clearly already knew. Olenna herself would not forget their Queen had saved them at the cost of a kingdom. "Not yet."
Willas nodded, his gaze sweeping the hall. "Her choice to dance with the freed slave?"
"Interesting, but then the woman has steel in her veins and a brain." Olenna would take note of the foreign advisor, she had at the least the vague respect of a goddess and certainly the high regard of a Queen…if the woman's eunuch lover died in the wars tossing one of the cousins down the line of succession at the woman might be wise. "Her Holiness wasn't wrong."
He hummed. "About what?"
"That she can dance." Olenna replied, it was an understatement, the goddess was more than capable.
////
Yara Greyjoy stared at the motley collection of people in the smithy. "You cannot be serious."
"We wear Lannister colors, pretend to be an additional patrol heading out the mud gate and we can just walk out of the city." The insane Northern Joran said. "We get out of sight, then loop to the beach and meet your crew."
Davos looked at the Lannister colors. "You serve a god."
"Her Holiness suggested the ruse with the Freys." Joran beamed in satisfaction of mimicking the god he was…concerningly reverent towards.
The Unsullied man, Mold Rat, spoke up in halting common. "We must be careful of the…curfew."
"Best if Davos 'an I do the talking." The smith, Gendry said, crossing his arms. "Lot of you don't sound local."
Yara's shoulders slumped, well it looked like they were dressing up as Lannister guards then. At least they'd be out of the city? Whole place was a nightmare, crawling with guards and crawling with terror. "Fine, but you're not slapping color on me again."
"If we're dressing as Lannisters we'll have a hard time hiding what darker skinned men we have here already." Davos gave a critical look at the Dothraki who were already in Lannister reds.
The Dothraki had been delighting in murdering Lannister soldiers in dark alleys for the past week. Vicious bastards. Yara really was going to have to offer positions in her fleet to all of these idiots even if they were fools. "Fine, I assume we leave before sunrise then?"
"Best time, poor lighting, tired guards, and nobody expects murder in the day." Joran replied with so much passion. Honestly, he was born to be a pirate, clearly.
Theon rubbed at his chin. "I'll have to leave tonight to signal the ship in."
"Best get one of our foreign friends out with you at the same time then," Yara spoke. "And should we consider getting a cart? We could hide the Dothraki in something like that."
Joran looked at her gleefully. "What type of cart? It needs to be something they're not gonna question."
Well, if they were going to do this, Yara crossed her arms. "A body cart of some of your lot's latest murder victims being sent to the Westerlands."
////
Jon stepped with Daisy to the light airy music of the hall. "How do you know this?"
"Loras." Daisy replied lightly as she danced with him. "Loosen up, you shouldn't be so stiff. It's a dance, not a funeral."
He did try, as he led them into the next spin. "Can I stop dancing after this?"
"You've done four dances dude." Daisy raised her brows but huffed in amusement. "Go ask Dany to like walk in a garden or something with you." She spun away, before returning back to his side. "And ask her if you can court her again."
He couldn't help how his eyes tracked the silver head of hair that had been whisked away by Garlan Tyrell at the last change of partner. "How do I ask her again?"
"You just ask her." Daisy's hand in his squeezed before releasing him as they separated slightly again.
Which, was deeply unhelpful but he also knew the middle of the dance floor wasn't where to beg for help with girls. "I'd hoped for more than that."
"She danced with you, twice. You at least know she doesn't hate you." She looked irritatingly smug.
He let out a long breath as the song came to an end and he was forced to bow to Daisy's curtsy. Which really should have looked ridiculous considering she didn't curtsy, ever, and the fact she was wearing pants. It didn't. Straightening he touched her arm. "Thank you."
"Good luck." She smiled before swanning off for Garlan.
Jon approached Daenerys who was now free of her Tyrell dance partner who Daisy had just gleefully stolen. He wondered if this is what would have felt like for Robb to help him gain the attention of a pretty girl? But such thoughts were not for now. He came to a halt before her. "If we could speak, your Grace?"
"Are we not already speaking Stark?" She was faintly breathless, a flush from dancing across her pale skin, bright vivaciousness in her eyes, and utterly breathtaking.
He couldn't help the start of a smile on his face. "In a slightly more private setting than this?"
"Very well."
Jon barely processed the process of walking into the gardens lit by only the moon and the light from the halls spilling out of its windows. He felt mostly nauseous and terrified. He wasn't the one who was supposed to vie for the hand of powerful, gorgeous women. Yet here he was. "Your Grace…"
"You wish to speak of what you asked me before in the mines?" Daenerys finished for him, the moonlight made her look nearly ethereal.
He turned to face her fully. "Yes."
"Tell me Jon Stark, why should I marry you over every other man in the Seven Kingdoms?" Daenerys challenged, and it was a challenge.
Jon willed his honesty to be apparent, that he meant every word he would utter. "I'm not good at saying things right, or flattery or poetry or whatever girls like. But I would be a loyal husband to you. I would never raise a hand against you. I would never betray you. I would support you and stand by your side. Mayhap we could come to love one another, but we could be partners. I would not chaff as your consort, I would not ask for power, or try and command you."
"So sure you can suffer a Queen for a wife?" Daenerys asked, her eyes taking in his face.
He nodded. "I was born a bastard your Grace. I was never meant to rule anything. I only wanted an honorable life." Jon huffed, his lips twitching upwards. "Besides, I serve one Queen without envy already."
"And you could change your loyalty from your Queen to me?" She asked.
Jon's words stuck in his throat. Could he? The image of his sister flickered in his mind. His sister who had named him Stark. Who had given him her trust. Who he would have served all his days without hesitation or question. He spoke finally. "I could never work against my family for you. Never. They are my blood, my pack. But if we wed you would be mine and their family."
"You are an honest man." Daenerys reached up touching his cheek, the pads of her fingers barely brushing his skin. She dropped her hand away. "Very well, write your sister, and when our advisors arrive we will discuss terms."
He felt like he could breathe. "Truly?"
"I make no oath, but yes. If terms can be agreed upon I will marry you."