Chapter 112Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextJoran trotted into the room he'd seen Yara Greyjoy enter, Theon on his heels. He gave a sharp nod in her direction where she was standing with a confident artfulness, a pitcher of wine in one hand. He straightened as he spotted Prince Jon. "Your Highness, apologies for leaving Dragonstone without permission, but I felt that it was in line with the goals and morals as expected for one of the Order."
"No apology needed. You did the right thing." Prince Jon gave Yara Greyjoy an odd look, before returning his attention to Joran. "We were just hearing of your escape through the Mud gate?"
"Yes, using the body cart was effective at avoiding notice from the Lannister forces or the Gold Cloaks." He folded his hands behind his back. "We made all haste to reach Highgarden, your Highness."
Yara scoffed. "All haste? An interesting way to put it for someone who had us going miles out of our way to go kill some random bandits."
He refused to give her the pleasure of looking at her. "Well, you got to kill something so it wasn't like you complained, your Grace."
"Bandits?" Prince Jon asked, his face serious.
Joran gave a sharp nod. "Cowards doing as they pleased. Best handle them while we were there, your Highness."
"And you're wearing a Lannister gambeson because?" The Northern Prince asked.
"Easier to get close enough to kill the idiots if they think ya'r one of them." He glanced at the red sleeve of his dirt-encrusted gambeson. "Sides, it's nice. Figured I could dye it a less awful color after I get the dirt out."
Yara piped up. "It does hide the blood of your enemies fairly well. Apparently, the Lannisters weren't being idiot cunts when they picked their House colors."
His jaw ticked slightly, she wasn't wrong. "None of the party that went to secure the rescue of Yara Greyjoy were seriously harmed. And we killed as many Lannister men at arms as we could and sowed great discord within the city before we departed, your Highness."
"Discord?" Daenerys Targaryen's tone was cool, but unless Joran was terribly wrong, she was barely keeping from laughing.
His grin was all teeth. "Well, easiest way to get Lannister uniforms is to kill Lannisters. And anyone who knows you're not a proper Lannister man. So, more Lannister men had to go. Shocking amount of men at arms vanishing into dark alleys never to come out again gets people talking. Dangerous thing that when dozens of loyal men vanish an' people know it, your Grace."
"How many Lannister men perished over the course of this mission?" Daenerys was clearly pleased with the word of misfortune upon her rival. Good sense that.
Yara took a chug from the pitcher. "Joran there took issue with us counting. Said it was in 'poor taste'. But he's wicked good with a knife."
"As-" He began
Yara interrupted. "Yes as her Holiness says. If you weren't a raving religious lunatic I'd have insisted you join my crew."
"Fascinating." Tyrion Lannister stated with the oddest expression on his face.
////
Daisy woke before Sansa. It was barely dawn and she had no interest in moving, not even a tiny bit. She just closed her eyes again, letting her nose nuzzle further into Sansa's hair. Her arms were wrapped around Sansa's waist, holding her safely against her front. Quiet mornings were something she prized. The contentment and sense of peace were something she'd never really felt in her life before.
She wasn't sure how long she lay there, drifting in contentment. Daisy smiled slightly, her eyes were still closed as she felt Sansa beginning to wake. She shifted, brushing her lips against Sansa's neck. Her voice was rough with sleep. "Morning."
Sansa turned in her arms so that she was facing her. A hand gently touched the side of her face. She sighed, pressing their foreheads together as she settled back into the drowsy contented air between them.
It was kinda the best. Daisy's fingers gently curled in the soft fabric of Sansa's shift. She'd stay in this moment forever if that was possible. She was half asleep again when Sansa yawned, stretching against her.
Daisy let out a soft sound of protest. "Nooooo…." Her arms tightened where they were wrapped around Sansa.
"Not even you can stop the rising of the sun." Sansa's voice was thick with sleep, but still holding amusement.
She cracked an eye open looking at the expression on her wife's face. "I could try."
"Hmm…" Sansa leaned forward and kissed her softly, before pulling away and climbing out of the bed.
Daisy rolled onto her back with a sigh. Sitting up she watched Sansa beginning her day. It was…domestic in a way she'd longed for her entire life. She slipped out of the bed and padded to where Sansa was loosening the braid her long hair was in most nights. "You have meetings I interrupted yesterday?"
"Some." Sansa looked up at her from her seat before the mirror. "You agreed to go hawking with Rickon, he'll be crushed if you forget."
"I won't." Daisy handed Sansa her brush. "You don't have any plans for Mira today?"
"Not specifically?" Sansa looked at her curiously.
Daisy pulled out her clothes for the day. "She lived in Highgarden for a few years, I wanted to talk to her about the Tyrells."
"Ah." Sansa began brushing her hair. "Will you see Fitz?"
She paused, it hadn't occurred to her. "If Rickon doesn't want to leave for hawking too early." Daisy rose from her chest, closing the lid easily. "What's your latest battle with your Lords?"
"Transporting dragonglass. There's too much snow for carts, but not quite enough for sleds near the coasts. And just manpower." Sansa sighed. "I have a thousand things that need a thousand men and everyone cares very deeply about which ones I choose to prioritize. And I have to handle Tormund and his rights to the Bolton lands soon."
Daisy pulled off her sleep shirt and easily pulled on a fresh shirt for the day. "If I can help just ask. I'm not sure what I can do about carts being turned into sleds. But you just have to ask."
"If I need to I will. But if you solve all of my problems it'll do more harm than good in the end." Sansa stood, moving to the basin of water to one side, and washed her face.
Daisy nodded but paused to watch. It was…funny how pleased she felt at this simple morning routine. She shook herself lightly and pulled on her pants, socks, and boots. The simple quiet of preparing for the day was warm. Daisy huffed at the temperature of the water in the basin when she washed her own face. It was cold. Why Sansa preferred it that way she didn't know. Drying her face she turned and began to pull on the thicker woolen gambeson. She didn't bother lacing the thing up. Instead, she moved to Sansa.
She gently took the ties and began to aid Sansa in lacing up her stays. Daisy smiled softly. "I'm going to put poor Sera out of work if I keep helping you dress."
"I asked her to take the morning off," Sansa said dryly.
Daisy laughed. "Really?"
"Hmm…before you arrived surprisingly. I had meant to ask for one of the other servants to step in. But well, you did arrive." Sansa's raised a brow and had quiet humor in her tone.
Daisy snickered. "I see how it is, just using me for my ability to lace up your dresses then?"
"Entirely." Sansa's eyes were bright as she spoke.
She finished tying the stays with a final knot. Daisy squeezed Sansa's waist gently before stepping back to the gown that Sansa had laid on the bed. It was one of the more simple black ones. "Why do you wear so much black?" She lifted the thing and moved to help Sansa get the thing on. It wasn't one of the gowns Sansa could get on by herself after all.
Sansa was finishing pulling on a second shift as she spoke. "Because I need the men to take me seriously, and I was a frivolous child." She helped Daisy get the thick black, woolen gown over her head.
Daisy frowned slightly, stepping around to lace up the back as Sansa adjusted the arms and shoulders of the thing. "Wearing color makes you frivolous?"
"Black dye is inexpensive, easy to clean, easy to keep bright, and it's practical in a way they respect. It isn't a time for pastels or softness." Sansa pulled her long red curtains of hair out of the way of Daisy's fingers.
Daisy leaned forward, pressing her lips to the back of Sansa's neck as she finished up the last knot. "Impressive, but if you want to wear color more you should just do it."
"It suits me." Sansa turned, cupping the side of Daisy's face. "Thank you for worrying though. It's very sweet, if unneeded."
She felt her face heat. "I don't get called 'sweet' a lot. You do know that right?"
"That doesn't make it untrue." Sansa's hands fall to the ties of the front of Daisy's gambeson.
Daisy made to step back slightly. "I can get that myself you know?"
"I'm aware." Sansa tied the laces anyways. "But I wish to."
And she didn't have anything to say to that. It was…she'd been dressing herself without aid since she was a little kid. Hell, she could cut her own hair cause it was that or the nuns. And nuns shouldn't be allowed to cut kids' hair. It was a crime. But all of it left her struck silent as Sansa gently finished securing Daisy's clothing.
Sansa's hands brushed off Daisy's chest, before she reached down, catching one of Daisy's wrists. Her fingers adjusted Daisy's shirt cuff, before fixing the other one. "Come find me before you leave for hawking with Rickon?"
She caught Sansa's face between her hands and kissed her in answer.
////
Mira Lovewell was stitching at a pair of trousers for her husband. She wished to get it done before she was required to join the other ladies of the court. Still, she had time to handle smaller matters before her presence was required. "I must thank you for joining me this morning, Lady Dustin."
"Yes, yes, very grateful." Barbrey Dustin was sipping at a cup of watered-down wine. "You wished to discuss the new marriage laws her Grace has been implying she means to bring forward, I assume?"
"Not this morning." Mira gave the older woman a knowing smile. "Rather, I wished to speak to the matter of the alarming amounts of marriages."
Barbrey snorted. "Do you expect me to believe you and that husband of yours are not attempting to get yourselves a child just as enthusiastically as everyone else?"
"There's been murmurs of men wishing to wed you again. I thought you might be interested in that." Mira tied off her thread before snipping it. "And a husband attempting to take your power for himself would be against the interests of our Queen, I should think."
And that had Barbrey's attention. "Is it that moron Greatjon again?"
"His brother Mors." She answered.
Barbrey scoffed. "Well, he can continue to dream. Not even the gods could compel me to do so and I doubt our resident god would be inclined to do so."
"No doubt, though forewarned is forearmed," Mira remarked as she re-threaded her needle. "And a reminder you would geld any man who thought to force you into a marriage bed might not be without merit."
Barbrey gave a hum and nodded as she set her cup of water down wine to the side. "I would-" She cut off, head-turning at the sound of a knock on the door before it opened.
Mira lept to her feet, half chucking her sewing to the side. "Your Holiness!" She dropped into a curtsy.
"Mira, sorry for dropping in but I was hoping to talk to you?" Daisy's posture was casually at ease as always.
Mira rose from her curtsy. "It would be my honor, should I send for Ser Loras?"
"Not this time." Daisy's eyes flicked to Barbrey. "Actually, Lady Dustin, you're kinda hilariously more useful than Loras would be for what I was hoping to ask."
Barbrey raised a brow, returning to her seat. "This time? Well, this will certainly be interesting."
"Then please, sit. I could call for some food to be brought if you have yet to eat, Holiness?" Mira offered though gods knew how she'd find a servant close enough to ask that service of. It wasn't like she was in quarters the servants of Winterfell paid a great deal of attention to.
Daisy shook her head. "No, it's fine."
"What is it we can assist you with, Holiness?" Mira slowly returned to her seat. She did not reach for her sewing, however.
Daisy didn't sit or show any indication of wishing to do so. Her face was serious in a way it rarely was, not a faintly cocky grin or fond expression. "What exactly does this world expect of Sansa in our relationship? And I mean exactly. No skirting around the topic."
The breath caught in the back of Mira's throat. Oh, oh whatever the reason for this sudden question and change in mood the god before her was not pleased. She spoke slowly. "In what regard, Holiness?"
"All of it." And this wasn't the cautious but curious questions that Daisy had asked of her and Loras last time. Nor the laughing and joking at being taught the steps of the more common dances. It was an implicit order.
Thank the gods Lady Dustin found her words first. "You and your paramour owe whatever duties the two of you have given her." Her voice was sharp, her eyes locked on the god's face.
"What duties?" And Daisy's voice was cold.
"To your bed, not that she seems to mind," Barbrey replied with a faint smirk. At any other moment, Mira would have agreed. Anyone with eyes could see there was real affection between the two. "Of course some expectation of conversation, general making of herself available for what needs or wants you might have. She's your paramour, she owes you what you want of her."
The god physically flinched. Her jaw clenched, and the air in the room felt heavy with power for a second. But then it passed. "I see. And what does the court expect of her with me? All of it."
"To keep your attention and favor. Quite a lot of speculation on whether you intend to take her as a mistress and not just as a paramour." Barbrey spoke matter of factly, unflinching in the face of the clearly displeased god.
"Explain what exactly being a mistress means to you?" The god frowned. "Because to my people that would require me already being married to someone else."
Mira frowned slightly, that was interesting. And oh the court would not be happy to realize the god hadn't even been considering such a declaration for their Queen. After all, all signs had pointed to such a thing being likely. "A married man may have a mistress, but a lack of marriage does not preclude such a position here."
"Oh stop waffling Lovewell." Barbrey picked up her cup of watered-down wine. "A king or man of power, woman of power in your case, may have whores, lovers, unacknowledged or minor mistresses, and official mistresses. It seems unlikely you consider her Grace as your whore."
The air chilled dramatically. And oh, the god really did not like hearing Sansa Stark called a whore.
Barbrey was somehow not on the brink of hyperventilating like Mira was, and waved off the temper of the god. "Your rather dramatic courtship of her Grace makes that unlikely. Though not impossible. I'm sure the court will be glad to know you find such a possibility revolting." She didn't flinch. "The rest is difficult to judge as you are alone of your kind among us. What you may permit and wish from her before mortals could be quite different than your behavior amongst other gods. Thus the court being unsure of exactly where her Grace stands with you."
"Explain exactly what those options for what she could mean to me are." Again, it was clearly an order, not a request.
"A mistress is expected to provide services' sexually, romantically, companionship, advice if asked, and availability as wished. A dozen things besides. But to be that most intimate of companions. Near a wife in all but name. In exchange, the mistress is given security, titles, money, honors, and some degree of influence. Whether that relationship is an open secret or officially acknowledged determines how secure of a position and what influence they might hold. It is a matter of concern only in worry you might find other lovers who may gain favor over her Grace."
The pitcher on the table shattered. "I see." And oh, the god really was not pleased.
"Holiness, if we have overreached in our assumptions it was only out of ignorance." Mira wished she was standing so she could properly lower herself. How the Queen regularly dealt with the god so brazenly was awe-inspiring, for Mira did not have the bravery for it.
The god's eyes closed, as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her face was rather pained. "You don't need to apologize. I'm not mad at you."
"I assume there is a term for what our Queen is to you that does not match with what I've said then?" Barbrey said as though continuing to speak wasn't dangerous as hell.
But she'd judged right. The god snorted, her hand dropping and eyes opening again. "You could say that." The threat didn't leave, but it certainly bled out of her stance. "You all expect me to fuck around though, don't you?" There was clear distaste in her voice.
"It's your right if you wish." Barbrey raised a bow. "But I think they're idiots to expect you to."
Daisy raised a brow. "Do you?"
"You're rather obviously smitten with our Queen. I doubt you'd stray from her bed for a few years yet." Barbrey replied like she wasn't verbally jousting with a god.
The god's eyes narrowed slightly before she rolled her eyes. "I assume an official mistress has some gesture or whatever to indicate they're secure?"
Mira nodded, her throat thick. Dear gods, Sansa Stark had managed the fucking impossible. "It's typically an announcement and presentation to the court, as well as a formal title given, Holiness."
"That's…" Her nose crinkled. "I know it's different but I'm not calling her that. It's…demeaning in my world." She blew out a long breath. "And I suppose lacking any other living gods walking around it's a bit hard to communicate I wouldn't treat her any different in my own world than I do here."
Her voice was dry as she replied. "Slightly, Holiness."
"Well, I'll just have to handle it then." The god tilted her head slightly, her arms crossing. "Would it surprise you to know if she would let me, I'd take her with me when I leave your world?"
Mira's eyes widened. Well, that certainly implied a lot. It was vaguely rewarding to hear Barbrey choking on her wine.
Daisy hopped onto the table across from them. "Well, you're going to help me so that it's established, without a shadow of a doubt that Sansa is more than secure. Even if it takes time to come up with something that isn't demeaning. Also, the next person to suggest I'd be shitty enough to cheat on her with some random person just because I could, I'm slapping."
"Cheat, Holiness?" Mira asked. She was going to kill Loras for ever making her someone the god noticed at all. Because this was insanity. And also history. A high-pitched sound of alarm was trapped in her chest and she refused to release it. Dear gods this was history being written before her.
Daisy's chin tipped up. "You all talk about what Sansa owes me, or is required by duty to do. And it's all crap. She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to. But I certainly owe basic loyalty to her. And to be clear, she matters a whole hell of a lot. If your old gods went against our agreement and caused any harm to her I would burn every last one of them to ash without hesitation."
And well…there wasn't anything to be said to that.
Notes:Not Game of Thrones or Agents of SHIELD related, or sort of for Game of Thrones, but not really, but House of the Dragon fandom is exhausting. The whole Team Green or Team Black thing is baffling to me. It felt like a fun fandom joke when the episodes were originally coming out, but apparently, people actually meant it? Which is…wild? The show about how factionalism and the personal pursuit of power cause ruin and misery for all….and fandom has decided to argue about which faction or character with a personal pursuit of power is 'right'?
Not that there are not some truly fantastic fanworks in the fandom, and really interesting discussions and things going on. But I keep happily clicking into a fanfic that sounds fun and suddenly either all of Team Black or all of Team Green are suddenly soulless, caricatures of evil or pathetic stupidity. And not in a 'this person is a terrible person, fabulous character' way. In a genuinely arguing that bastard children are morally inferior… not the characters thing that, the author is actually arguing that. I don't even know what to do about that it's so ridiculous.
I mean all the various factions of House of the Dragon are full of people who are evil, people who are complex, and people who are innocents caught in a storm they can't escape. There are characters who are victims and have victimized others in turn, there are characters who just are so interesting. And it's sad that it's hard to have a conversation about how say Rhaenyra's entitlement and lack of training and parental neglect left her unprepared for the position she was placed in. And that she made a lot of very serious mistakes. But that doesn't make her a monster or clinically stupid. Or Alicent, Alicent is fascinating. She's trapped and ground by the wheels of power, and then, in turn, grinds others. It's fascinating! And compelling.
I find it so frustrating that I keep going into an interesting conversation and suddenly 'Rhaenyra is a whore', or 'Alicent is an evil stupid bitch', and on and on. The factionalism is wild and it just kinda ruins genuinely interesting conversations or fic, etc.
Chapter 113Notes:Yo! That time of the week once again!
Chapter TextJon nearly jumped out of his skin at Daisy dropping unannounced down beside him. "Daisy!?"
"Sup, your siblings say hi by the way." She snagged a piece of pear off of his plate and popped it into her mouth. Her side was warm against him.
He ignored the startled expressions on everyone else's faces around the tables for the evening meal. She must have landed on a balcony and come in directly, Seth was likely the only one who'd seen her. And Seth wouldn't have said anything if she didn't indicate he should. He looked at her face carefully. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Her hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. A soft hum of her powers settled against him for a moment in reassurance before vanishing. "Promise to not forget your letters to your family next time. I...wasn't really thinking when I went back yesterday."
Jon did not give a fuck what anyone else thought. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hugged her against his side briefly. "Good."
"So, you manage to get yourself into any trouble while I was gone?" She grinned, snagging another piece of his meal off of his plate even as a servant set a plate down in front of her.
He shook his head. "Joran got back with Yara Greyjoy."
Which was when a very loud voice came from where Yara was seated. "That's the god I've had to hear about endlessly?"
Daisy laughed, and oh she looked to the pirate queen. A pirate queen looking exactly like what Jon'd have expected a Greyjoy to look when being forced to play nice with southern mainlanders. Brazenly masculine, and irritated as hell. "I'm guessing you were expecting more tentacles?"
"Your Holiness-" Willas spoke up faintly alarmed.
She raised a hand halting him. "It's fine, Lord Tyrell."
Willas settled, as the pirate queen straightened in her seat. Yara Greyjoy raised her cup slightly towards Daisy. "Well, you're less uptight than your followers, Holiness."
"Joran does take it seriously." Daisy clearly was interested in the mention of Joran though. "And no, I'm not an uptight person."
Yara gave her a faint up down. "I hear you can fight, Holiness?"
"If you want to try and stab me you can try tomorrow." Daisy wasn't even looking at her hands as she swapped her and Jon's pieces of meat pie without so much as a by-your-leave.
Jon groaned. "I already ate some of that."
"Yup." She grinned at him as she picked up her fork. And then her eyes flicked back to where Yara was clearly watching. "And no, I'm not fucking him."
Yara's eyes were bright and there was a curl to her lips.
Jon just gave out a long sigh. "I take it back, you could have stayed away longer."
"But who'd make you pout instead of brood if I wasn't around?" She turned her attention to where Daenerys had been watching the display curiously. "You have to mess with him regularly or his face will get stuck brooding for all time."
His cheeks heated up. "Daisy!"
"I'll keep that in mind," Daenerys replied as she cut into her own meal.
Jon kind of wished he could die. He was not prepared for being trapped between horribly powerful women. The only thing that could make it worse was if Sansa and Cersei were somehow there. He just wanted to eat in peace.
Jon stopped Daisy before she could walk to her rooms here at Highgarden with a hand on her elbow. "A word, please?"
She paused. "You know that's not going to help with rumors?"
"Can you not?" He grimaced. "It won't take long."
She gave a faint nod and followed him into his rooms.
He ran a hand through his hair. "We've begun formal negotiations for the alliance." He explained as soon as the door shut.
"What do you need me for? Betrothal contracts aren't exactly something I've got experience with." She watched him with her eyes that sometimes seemed to see too much.
Jon smiled. "Well, they're not something I have experience with either."
And everything felt right again as she just nodded laughing.
He kinda basked in it. Things made more sense when he knew she was there to ensure it made sense. That the politics didn't swallow him whole. "Would you look at what's been agreed upon and tell me if I'm mucking it all up already or not?"
"I can do that." She clearly spotted the paperwork Marlon had neatly laid out on the subject. Daisy picked it up, skimming through it, making hums at various points as she read. "It's about what we expected. You can't give up the Stonyshore. Lord Knott just suggested that and Sansa threatened to cut his head off for it."
Jon straightened alarmed. "What?!"
"It's nothing. She had to let the Lords speak before she accepted the trade deal with the Tyrells. A thing I did bring the signed and sealed letters back with me for." She flipped to the last page. "The North can't afford this much lumber though."
He nodded, he'd ask more of what had happened later. It was late and he doubted Daisy intended to be here long. Morning would be soon enough for those details. "But the rest, the Vale?"
"You're not giving the Vale easily. That's the important bit." Daisy handed the papers back to him. "Take some deep breaths, you're doing fine. And I'll make sure it stays that way. But just dig your stubborn heels in. A Kingdom for a husband."
With a sigh, Jon accepted the papers. "You make it sound so easy." He met her eyes. "I'm glad you're back." He was glad to have a friend back whom he knew he could trust. Someone whose priorities were on life, and keeping everyone from dying in the Long Night. And who'd tell him if he was being an idiot.
////
Fitz grunted as he twisted yet another wire through the holes bored into the metal of one of the iron pieces of the gate. His brow furrowed as he looked at it. "Ruler." He reached behind him blindly at air, not taking his eyes off of his work.
"Why does it all have to be so exact?" Crann asked as he set the ruler into Fitz's hand.
He carefully began to measure all the distances. He really wished he had a laser to measure this shit with. "The vibrations have to be channeled correctly and the right frequencies to contain the portal. It's…" Fitz frowned as he set the ruler down, lifting the pliers to adjust the wire slightly. "It's a song. All the bits have to harmonize or it's chaos."
Crann made a sound of slight understanding. If he hadn't been stuck in this pathetic place he might even have been able to understand it. Tragic he couldn't educate himself properly.
Fitz nodded, setting the pliers down, and lifted the ruler again. His lips pulled up. "Acceptable." He turned to the pile of steel, iron, and copper poles he and Crann had been slaving over. Every day the pile shrank as they constructed the doorway for a portal, and every day he was closer to being reunited with Jemma. "Steel, 2.4 meters, small diameter next."
"Got it." Crann shuffled over the stack of six poles of that description. "We bending this one as well?"
He grabbed a rag, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. "Of course, we need a perfect circle with the frame." Well, from the macro level, on a smaller scale few pieces were curved to make a circle on their owb. It was a mess of interconnected metals that at the right frequency should sing. Or rather redirect vibrations back into the rip in reality Daisy was going to make ensuring it was directed exactly where he wanted. "Now, this one we'll need-" he cut off as the door opened.
Fitz groaned as he saw the unfortunately familiar clothing denoting one of the royal guards. And sure enough, sweeping in behind was Sansa bloody Stark. He twitched slightly at the presence of one of the dithering ladies who followed her about. "Your Grace, lovely." His tone was cutting. This was going to take time away when he was finally being productive.
"Fitz." Her voice was cold as ice. Whole bloody woman was an ice cube, could've been swapped out for Elsa. "Crann, leave us. Now."
Crann was startled but immediately bowed. "Your Grace." He'd barely risen out of his bow before he scurried out of the workshop.
He grimaced. "We were working on something."
"Your work can wait for an hour." She looked at her guard. "You as well."
The guard glared at Fitz, before turning on his heel and marching out of the workshop.
"Was that really necessary?" Fitz dropped his hands on his hips. "And if you're getting rid of minions shouldn't you banish her?" He jerked his chin towards the court lady.
Sansa raised a brow. "She knows to keep her mouth shut. Wagstaff does not, and Crann is not a creature of the court. Or do you disagree in your vaunted wisdom?"
He grimaced, she had a point. "Fair enough. What do you need from me t-then? I assume Daisy's done something?"
"She came back half hysterical from Highgarden." Sansa began, and Fitz straightened instantly paying attention. "She was nearly hyperventilating at one point. I talked her down, but I don't fully understand why she was upset. I thought you might hold some insight.?"
Fitz crossed his arms over his chest. "What happened? She hasn't gotten like that in years. Daisy doesn't panic easy."
"She accidentally gave the impression to a woman of the southern court that she wished to bed her. The woman cried in relief at finding it was a misunderstanding. Apparently, she is deeply in love with her husband and would have found it unwanted. A perhaps unfortunate misunderstanding, but Daisy…" Sansa trailed off, her eyes tight.
Fitz grimaced in disgust. "Well shit, but what, was she really going to just let Daisy rape her?"
"That." Sansa's eyes narrowed. "What exactly do your people consider rape?"
His mind rather blanked at that question it was…kind of obvious. But also clearly not…well, it was the Dark Ages. "Sex without consent?"
"Elaborate, if you would." Her steely gaze was locked on him. Christ, how was this at all attractive to Daisy? Sure the woman was a looker, but did she know how to smile? Or what a computer was?
He reminded himself this was Daisy's girlfriend and this was probably a conversation she'd thank him for not having to have. "It's kinda simple. If you don't want or don't know what you're agreeing to it's a crime to force it. Unless both people want it, it's rape."
The woman whose name he didn't know, with a sweet demeanor if irritating presence, spoke. "What, even in marriage?"
The sheer stupidity of it pulled him up short. "Obviously? Hell, you can change your mind. And obviously, if one person is drunk or something and not in their right mind. If both people are drunk it gets a bit messy. But if only one person is incapacitated very much rape."
"There's no expectation of duty in the marriage bed? Not even with lovers?" Sansa's voice was slow and deliberate, each word measured with care and purpose.
Fitz's eyes narrowed further. "That's why she actually panicked then?"
"It's certainly was what caused her to retch," Sansa responded shortly.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Well fuck. "This is why you don't fuck the locals on foreign planets. Well, this and you never know when the sexy alien is going to eat you not fuck you. Or have weird non-compatible sexual organs." He knew Daisy had seen enough Star Trek and Doctor Who to know this. As his hand dropped back down, his eyes bore into the woman his best friend really shouldn't have gotten involved with. "I assume she didn't actually manage to accidentally rape you then?"
"No," And Christ the redhead was cold as hell.
Fitz nodded, well that was something. "Right, don't just sleep with her because she wants to even though you're not feeling like it and you'll be fine."
"But…" the mostly quiet woman interrupted. She breathed in, clearly reading the room that both he and Sansa were waiting for her to say whatever it is she'd begun. "If a wife denies her husband sex regularly how…what if she never chooses to invite him to her bed?"
He questioned people's intelligence sometimes…a lot. "Then he or she can file some paperwork with a judge and get a divorce. End the marriage. It's a lot of bother, tends to be a lot of shouting about who gets what financially and who gets the kids and all that. Then you just find someone you actually want to be with and marry them."
"I see, your people's rules are much more…rigid than our own." Sansa allowed.
Fitz, well fuck it. "I mean not everyone follows the rules. It can get a bit fuzzy sometimes. And it's not like everyone's going to ask for a verbal 'yes', every time. But it's basic bodily autonomy. You own your own body." Daisy owed him for this. "Daisy probably takes it more literally than a lot of people. What with the whole orphaned human upbringing and living on the streets for a while. Not sure how young she ran away from the foster system? She gets cagey about it. And to top it off she's an American. Idiots act like they're the only ones who know what freedom even means."
"American?" And a proper expression for once, even if it was mostly muffled confusion.
He nodded as he replied. "Daisy and I are from different countries. Sort of how like you're Northern. Americans decided they didn't like the King, chucked all the tea into the harbor, and fought a war to kick the King's forces out of the territory. They don't have nobility or royalty. The regular people, everyone, vote on who they want their leader to be every four years. I'm not sure why she's been going along with your whole monarchy thing actually. She's not a fan of absolute power."
"She's made her thoughts on the flaws implicit in a monarchy known." Sansa's voice was dry, an older conversation between her and Daisy then. Maybe they talked politics as foreplay? Weird, wouldn't have thought that would do it for Daisy. But weirder shit had happened.
He hummed, well if they'd talked about it he wasn't sticking his nose in it. "But really, just don't have sex if you don't want to and it'll be fine. It's not that complicated." Fitz let out a low chuckle. "It's not like it'll be a problem that'll come up otherwise."
"You are, remarkably sure of that?" The court woman said slowly, something almost like intelligence in her face then.
He rubbed at his beard. "Well, it's not like Daisy's going to be having sex with anyone else so I don't see how it'd be an issue again?"
"You barely speak with her, how would you know that so certainly?" The woman pressed.
Fitz took back his estimation of her intelligence. "Because she's dating your Queen there." He gestured at Sansa. "Unless the two of them have negotiated an exception or permission for other sexual partners or whatever it's not going to happen. Daisy's a lot of things, but she's not a cheater." Sweet Einstien he was going to have to explain this as he would to a village idiot. "Cheating is bad. Unless agreed on ahead of time, basic loyalty is expected." God, he wished this conversation was over, he had a horrible feeling he was going to be here for a while.
////
Missandei braided Daenerys' hair with careful and well-practiced motions. "You are in good spirits this morning, your Grace?"
"Well, this morning promises to be interesting, does it not?" Daenerys had a faint upwards smile on her lips, as she looked into the mirror to look Missandei in the eyes. "Or do you not agree?"
She smiled softly, eyes flicking back down to the complex braiding of her Queen and friend's hair. "His Highness will hopefully be most impressive."
"We might even get something done once they're all finished whacking each other with swords," Daenerys replied.
Missandei was glad she was permitted to speak when she wished, even if it did not feel…natural to do so. Her friend's patient quiet as she gathered her thoughts was something she deeply appreciated. "Once you are on the Iron Throne, you will have to watch a great many tournaments of men whacking each other with sticks. Will, you not, your Grace?"
Daenerys laughed, light happy in a way she so rarely did, and only in private. "I didn't care for it at my wedding, in the Pits of Meereen, and it's followed me all the way to Westeros. I believe all men must enjoy it universally."
"Perhaps, though I believe the point of this was that Yara Greyjoy wished to try and hit her Holiness with an axe, your Grace?" Missandei prodded gently as she tied off the last of the intricate braids before stepping back.
Daenerys eyes flicked to her with a knowing look. "Yes universally enjoyed by all then I suppose."
"At least this contest of strength is unlikely to end in bloodshed," Missandei remarked while lifting the red-scaled cloak that would be pinned to one of Daenerys shoulders, the decorative silver chain looping to her hip to secure it further.
Her friend and Queen nodded as she rose to her feet before moving to make attaching the cloak easier. "There is that. I doubt Daisy will permit Jon to be harmed."
"Unlikely indeed, your Grace," Missandei replied as she hooked and pinned the cloak into place. "They are very close."
"Indeed." Daenerys' purple eyes seemed to be seeing something that was not there as she considered her next words. "I wonder sometimes if it is his honesty or his moral fiber that endeared him to her."
Missandei hooked the last piece into place before stepping back. "Perhaps both? However…he was born a bastard, your Grace." She hesitated. "Perhaps it's just that he understands her more than the those raised to hold power?"
"So the same reason as she approaches you?" Daenerys smiled fondly. She'd made no secret in private of her amusement at the confusion of the court at the Goddess's seeking out of Missandei.
She smiled, it was…gratifying in its own way. "It could also simply be that he is kind."
"He is." Daenerys touched the silver three-headed dragon broach pinning her cloak in place. "If he is as alike to his Lord father as I've been told…"
Missandei blinked. "Your Grace?"
Daenerys shook her silent thoughts away. "House Stark was ever the loyalist of Houses. If Jon Stark's father was half the man Jon is, the crimes my father is said to have committed must be true, and likely worse than I have been told. Or else Eddard Stark would never have led an army to depose the entire Targaryen line."
A throat cleared, as Lord Varys stepped into the room through the open doors. "A wise perspective, if I may be so bold, your Grace."
"I don't recall summoning your presence Lord Varys?" Daenerys face was imperious as she turned to face her Master of Whispers.
He bowed his head. "I thought to bring the news the Northern party has unequivocally rejected the possibility of any change to the allegiance of the lands by the Stony Sept, your Grace."
"We had expected that." Daenerys waived off. "But I thank you for ensuring I am aware."
"Just so, your Grace." Varys paused leadingly. "If it is of interest to you, your estimation of poor Ned Stark's character is quite correct. He and Robert Baratheon fell out over the fates of your niece and nephew in the sack of King's Landing. He also resigned his position as Hand over the orders to send assassins after you when news of your pregnancy reached these shores. He was only prevailed upon to retain his position by not being forced to sully himself with such a matter."
Missandei fell quiet, taking her place behind Daenerys' shoulder. Of things she knew, the history of Westeros was not one.
Daenerys raised a brow. "Why remain loyal to a King of lesser honor?"
"Your Grace, Robert Baratheon, and Eddard Stark grew up as brothers in the Vale. They loved each other dearly, perhaps too dearly for the realm." Varys clearly saw the unasked question in their Queen's eye. "Ned was the first to King's Landing after the sack. He stood before an empty throne, and rather than claim it for himself, he guarded it for Robert's arrival. Twice in this Kingdom's history, a Stark has stood to gain everything, and twice a Stark has declined it."
Daenerys seemed to consider the man. "You speak favorably of the Starks, you have since the beginning. Why not serve them?"
"Tell me, your Grace, do you think the realm would have prospered more under Ned or Robert? The Starks are very noble, but they are rigid, unyielding. They will do what is right, over what is smart or good. Their own honor over the good of the realm. There is only one thing the Starks hold over their honor, and that is their kin. If negotiations go well, Jon will make you a loyal husband, one who will never plot against you. But he will never plot at all. When you don't require armies led or laws executed without nuisance he will be useless to you. It is a cost to this arrangement. You will gain a great deal, and lose in some ways a great deal as well." Varys tipped his head once more.
Missandei said nothing, but she did not think that was quite right? Or perhaps, not correct in describing Jon. She rather thought he would do what was 'right' over what was 'honorable'. If she had to guess, it was why he and Goddess Daisy were so close. They both believed in something higher than rules and words. They believed in helping people. But then she was not asked for her opinion.
Chapter 114Notes:Yo! Have a lot going on in my life right now, so going to be switching this to every other week for a couple of months. So just a heads up for that.
Chapter TextYara slid her knife into its sheath. She turned to face her brother. "This god, what is her temperament, and not that horse shit Joran never shut up about."
"She listens." Theon frowned, his hands folded behind his back.
She crossed her arms. "Does she?"
"Yes, she can be…impulsive though. I don't think she meant to slaughter the Boltons. Roose did something that displeased her, but I don't think she knew what to do after." Theon's single remaining eye held hers. A certain backbone was in him that hadn't been there before. It'd better fucking stay there.
Yara's fingers tapped at the hilt of her dagger. "You were surprised to hear she's fucking the Stark girl. Why?"
"Sansa was scared of her. We all were. And Sansa…it doesn't seem like her?" Theon offered.
She considered her baby brother. "You were afraid of her, why? Because you are a coward, or because you knew you were her prey? Does she make the hair on the back of your neck stand up, the air you breathe catch in your throat?"
He swallowed, looking down. "Like coming upon a bear. You just hope it doesn't notice you."
"Huh." Yara considered the reports that Joran and the others had so easily given, that were so plainly common knowledge here. "And did you think Sansa had it in her to wipe out four noble houses, personally swing the sword in judgment and rise to power as she has?"
That bothered him all right. "I don't know. She was different when I saw her again. Sharper."
"Men." Yara scoffed, turning. Her brother likely held a great many answers and he didn't have a clue he did and wouldn't be able to explain it even if he did. Because Sansa Stark had been a silly, vain, noble girl from what Theon and anyone who'd met her as a child would say. Someone worth little notice. And now everyone was shocked as she showed her fangs. People were idiots. A pretty face didn't mean there wasn't iron underneath. And Sansa Stark from all anyone would say had paid the iron price for all that was hers.
She strode out of the gold-coated rooms with ridiculous baubles. Things that'd be worth looting if she was here for that. If her father had had any sense they'd have sailed their longships up the rivers into the heart of these southern fucks heartlands and taken as they willed. Raiding the North had been idiotic. Fun though.
Still, she had a position to salvage, uncles to kill, and apparently a very real god to get the measure of. And said god had promised her a spar. Possibly an idiotic decision on her part, but well, at least losing to a god wouldn't reflect badly on her. And she had no intention of skirting shadows to avoid a predator like her brother.
Yara watched with curious eyes as the god worked with Jon Stark's squires. It was clear the awestruck boys had been near her before. Their eager expressions and quick jolting to follow the faintest suggestion from her was…amusing. And it was clear the god knew what she was doing.
She approached as the boys practiced the footwork she'd shown them. "Close quarter fighting a specialty of yours, Holiness?"
"In my world fighting kinda happens from a lot longer distances or up close with a lot fewer spears, swords, and shields." The god's brown eyes turned on her, intelligence plain to be seen on her face. "And what do I call you? Your Grace? Your Highness? Lady? Captain? Admiral?"
Yara enjoyed the thrum of danger she felt. "Highness will do, after all, I'm not a Queen, Yet."
"Interesting, your Highness." And the god certainly understood there was more weight to that than stated. Intelligent indeed. The god tipped her head slightly. "But I have a feeling you care about titles as much as I do."
She reached out picking up one of the blunted practice swords. Live steel with a god sounded spectacularly stupid. "Want to show these boys how it's done?"
"Sure." The god glanced at the most awkward looking of the squires.
The boy practically glowed as he scurried to the rack to grab a blunted tourney sword and bring it back to the god. His chest puffed in pride at being of service. Boy would need that glow knocked out of him if he meant to survive. That sort of innocence would see him killed otherwise.
Yara tested the balance of the blade in her hand as she stepped backward into the yard. "To a yield then?"
"Sounds fine to me." The god slid into a defensive stance as she followed, an easy smoothness that was dangerous. It wasn't a swagger, it was something far more confident than that, and thus far more impressive if she had the skill to justify it.
Yara was not one of the great swordsmen of the era. She wasn't a warrior of such renown men trembled in fear or anticipation at her name. She was good, very good. And she fought to win, not duel. Honor was for fools and the dead.
Dropping the point of her sword to the ground she swung up, sending a shower of dry dirt toward the gods' face. It was a continuous motion as she used the momentum to take advantage of the few precious seconds her opponent's vision would be clouded.
The god moved even as her eyes closed, and it was terrifying as she neatly parried, and then was sliding in close.
Yara dragged her sword slamming it into the god's, and to stop her forward momentum, forcing the god to stay at arm's length away. It should have sent a shudder at least in a strong man to hold the weight of it. The god didn't even seem to notice the force. It'd been the right call not to use an axe.
She needed to get space between them, and the god wasn't attacking. So she shifted and kicked at the god's stomach to try and force her back. She needed to get back, to regroup.
The god shifted, her arm hooking around Yara's leg and then slamming them forward.
They hit the ground hard enough to drive the air out of Yara's lungs, but not to crush her. Her hands were pinned to the ground by a grip like iron around her wrists. The god's hips held her lower extremities down. The god's free hand snagged the dagger from Yara's belt, her face amused as she tapped the flat of the blade against her throat. "Yield?"
Yara coughed, getting air back into her lungs. Fuck. "Yield." She managed.
The god grinned and rolled off of her before hopping easily to her feet. She held out her hand. "Nice try with the kick, it takes most of these idiots forever to try and just bash me with something that's not a sword."
Yara firmly clasped the offered hand and let herself be hauled to her feet. Inhuman strength was easily apparent. She ignored the looks they were getting. "So you don't mind getting close and personal then, Holiness."
The god laughed, brushing some dirt off of herself. "You guys really are prudes if you think that counts as personal." She tossed Yara's dagger back to her.
And there was a challenge there, not a sexual one, which would have been interesting. "You're a brawler at heart aren't you?"
"Basically." The god shrugged and then turned to Jon Stark. "Think your squires there should see different styles of brawling?"
Jon Stark let out an amused sigh. "Aye, probably good. But I think we'll need a few other people if we want her Highness not to be a bruised lump by the end of this."
Normally Yara would be a bit insulted by that. Considering the strength the god was showing…well that was just common sense.
"I'll go a round. If that 'er…would be helpful, m'Lords?" The thick fleabottom accent of the smith Gendry piped in from where he'd apparently wandered in to watch.
Yara looked him up and down. He'd been useful in their escape from King's Landing, and he was a muscled boy. Give him an axe and he'd do damage coming over the side of a ship. She flicked her eyes back to the god. "Why don't you show us with Gendry here, he wants a try after all."
////
Daenerys watched the enthusiastic violence below. Well, it wasn't men hitting each other with sticks, it was men getting punched. So there was that. "What do you think Ser Jorah, do you think any of them will actually manage to strike her?"
"It seems unlikely, your Grace." Ser Jorah made a sound as Jon was tossed over Daisy's shoulder and slammed into the ground. "She is remarkably skilled, and they cannot match her one man alone."
She raised a brow, vaguely amused by the glee everyone seemed to feel for the violence below. "How so?"
Willas Tyrell cleared his throat from where he was leaning on the balcony. "If I may, your Grace, if it was perhaps ten well-trained men, prepared ahead of time, and working together they may stand a chance at forcing her to yield. Well, so long as she refrained from using her powers."
"It truly is something." Prince Olyvar sighed longingly. "She is a deadly fighter, I would pay a great deal to see her fight against her equal." His grin was sly. "I doubt I would survive it, but what a way to go."
Ser Jorah shifted. "If she was mortal she'd stand shoulder to shoulder with any of the great knights of the realm. Though not the greatest."
"I agree." Willas tipped his head towards Jorah.
Daenerys barely repressed a cringe as Daisy hooked her feet around the dark-haired boy's head and flipped him. It was ridiculous, though she could admit it was fascinating to watch how Daisy flowed between attacks and changed clear styles of combat. It wasn't a way she'd seen a man fight before.
Ser Davos coughed suddenly. "That boy."
"Something wrong with that fellow getting the sense beat out of him, Ser Davos?" Tyrion asked. "I had thought you not an expert on the more martial pursuits."
Davos's beard twitched. "I'm no use to anyone with a sword in my hand."
"And not the question I had asked." Tyrion shook his head. His eyes scanned the boy's features as the boy, or perhaps a man really clamored back up to his feet. "Good gods, are you mad?"
Davos shifted awkwardly. "I should hope not, my Lord. But that boy may be."
Daenerys looked at who they were speaking of. He was young, but large, broad-shouldered, handsome enough face, and a wide smile on his face as Daisy said something to him.
It was amusing to see Yara Greyjoy kicking at his side to get him back to his feet again.
Lady Olenna made a scoffing noise. "That boy looks like Robert Baratheon reborn in his prime. Where in the seven hells did you find a living bastard? I'd thought Cersei and Joffrey had them all killed?"
"In a smithy in King's Landing." Ser Davos gave an exhausted sigh. "Doesn't have a lick of sense in his head." He turned his attention to Daenerys. "He's no threat to you, your Grace. He's a baseborn bastard with no learning or ambition. Not even a claimed bastard."
Daenerys felt the familiar bubble of anger in her chest. But it was only a faint lick of heat, nothing consuming. She'd felt far more rage in regard to Jon, and now she was on the brink of marrying the man. So she ignored her distaste. "I will judge that for myself and I would hear it from his own mouth."
"Of course, your Grace." Davos bowed his head without hesitation.
Well, her advisors certainly were going to have opinions about this, and she was unsure she cared. Because she had her own, a Baratheon bastard could be useful to have around. And as Tyrion said, the boy was hardly a threat.
////
Missandei joined the Goddess Daisy where she was laughing while watching the squires run up and down the stairs. "You care for them, Holiness?"
"You can ignore the 'holiness' shit you know, my lady." Daisy shifted, welcoming her at her side, and with easy comfort as if she belonged unquestionably there.
She smiled faintly. "If it pleases you then, Daisy." Missandei let the comfortable quiet between them settle as they watched one of Jon's Reach squires trying to trip his Dornish squire as they tried to race up and down the stairs.
"I take it Jon is attempting to impress Dany somehow then?" Daisy asked absently.
Missandei was unsure how much of Daisy's airs with Jon were truth and how much was intended to make him the most appealing option for husband to a powerful Queen? It might even be both. "They are in the library again."
"Good for him, so me or absolute boredom then?" Daisy had a lopsided smile on her face that took any threat that might have been possibly read in her words.
She gave a faint nod. "You are very kind company."
"You know you could tell the noble idiots to fuck off more?" Daisy's smile grew. "You're very good at telling people to do it without them realizing it."
Missandei felt oddly both pleased and faintly embarrassed by that comment. "A necessary skill."
"No kidding." Daisy hummed. "The nuns used to wash our mouths out with soap if we said 'mean things'. Which we were kids. And then well, foster families, kids from better homes, they know you can't do anything about it if they smack you about. You learn what to say."
She considered the god slowly. "You disagree, irritate and challenge others purposefully quite often?"
"Because I can, and fastest way to figure out who cares, and where their lines are." Daisy shrugged, her face tightening. "And I wasn't a slave, surviving what punishment they'd alot to me wasn't the risk, just a risk of pain or hunger or whatever. At least most of the time. The stakes were different for me, ya know?"
Which, she looked at Daisy, her eyes traveling to the marked scar on her neck. "And yet you were enslaved."
"For a few days." Daisy turned, facing her properly. "I was valuable to them, and I made sure every single fucking one of them died. What was a few days of shit to me was your life. It's different. I wasn't…I didn't break, because I didn't have to."
Missandei understood exactly what she meant. The freeborn, who were captured and collared, who fought and spat and tried to protest their new reality. They were either worth the effort of breaking, or they were killed as a warning to the rest of them. But those who had known freedom, truly known it had always been…different for those first few years before they were as accustomed to their life as anyone else. But even then…they sometimes clung to hope. It'd always seemed cruel to her, to have hope that could never be. "You understand the difference, that is…rare."
"I… it's complicated. But yeah, I get…at least some of it." She huffed. "Enough to know I barely know anything. Enough to know you deserved far better, and I'm sorry it happened to you."
And that was…likely why Missandei felt safe near the strangeness that was Daisy. "Thank you."
"You know if anyone gives you any crap about it I'd take care of it, right?" Daisy's face was completely serious.
Messandei smiled. "As would Daenerys."
"Good." Daisy hesitated. "Walk with me?"
She gave a slight nod. "Where are we walking to?"
"To find Leonette Tyrell, you need to spend more time near them, it'll be safer for you to be friends with them." Daisy politely gestured towards the path.
Which was likely true enough. Messandei felt how alone she was when Dany was occupied and the Unsullied were not near at hand. "I find it…difficult to find common ground amongst them."
"I get that." Daisy huffed. "I don't think a single one of them has ever had to hunt for food in the garbage and worn clothing five sizes too big with holes in them. But at least you're not going to have them thinking if they misspeak around you you're going to kill them for it."
She did wonder at that sometimes. "You seem uncertain of your position quite often?"
"I'm twenty-four..ish maybe twenty-five? Jumping through time makes that kinda iffy." Daisy shrugged. "And I've only been a god for what…going on two years? And six months of that it wasn't like it changed anything for the people who'd known me before." Her face frowned. "And…inhumans, uh, demi-gods? not really people who anyone treats well."
"Why not? Surely a divine lineage would be something of great status?" Missandei blinked, and oh. It would be of very great value, a slave race. "That is why your people were wanted as slaves." And powerful slave masters could make protecting a single person, no matter how valuable dangerous.
"Yeah, and not just that. We're dangerous. I shattered every bone in my body trying to not kill the people around me on accident. How do you trust a person who if they have a nightmare could take your entire castle down before they wake up? Control takes time and practice and I get why people were scared of us. Lincoln almost burned like a few buildings down on accident. Joey melted metal when he was stressed, you don't know how much metal is in buildings and wagons and shit till suddenly it's turning into ooze."
"So you were dangerous to hold free, and of great value to those in power." Missandei's words tasted cruel in her own mouth. "I am sorry for speaking of such things."
"Don't be." Daisy paused for a moment. "If you don't mind, like, do you remember anything from before?"
Missandei allowed her shoulder to brush with Daisy's, sure the woman would understand the meaning of the action. The trust it implied. "I come from the Isle of Naath, when we were very small my three brothers and I were taken by raiders and sold in Astapor."
"You have brothers?" Daisy blinked faintly surprised but with genuine curiosity in her voice.
She smiled. "Yes, they were made Unsullied, though only two survived the training," Missandei spoke softly of her kin. "Do you have brothers or sisters?"
"Not that I know." Daisy's voice was equally as soft. "I only knew my mother for a few days really, and she didn't say. But she was kinda immortal so, maybe? If she did they'd left Afterlife long before I got there."
"That is a sad thing, I think," Missandei said. "Mossador taught me to climb trees and Marselen would sneak me oranges sometimes. They are…I remember very little of what was good, but I always had that."
Daisy reached over, squeezing the hand resting on the crook of her elbow. "Good. Your brothers, are they in Dany's army?"
"Indeed, they are very proud to serve." She knew she must glow with what pride she was allowed. "Marselen is in Meereen, as commander to hold it while Daenerys is here in Westeros. But Mossador is with Grey Worm, at the Westerlands."
Daisy suddenly had an amused expression on her face. "I could drop off a letter, or favor or whatever you guys send your lovers and family when they're away at war?"
"They would not be able to read a letter I sent." She still felt a pleased heat at the thought. "You have never questioned that I would love an Unsullied?"
Daisy rolled her eyes. "You guys are so obsessed with dicks here. Loving someone, and being with them doesn't have to mean sex. It can just be the trust and companionship of a partnership or whatever you want from it. Also, anyone who thinks sex is only insert penis into vagina is having really bad sex."
Mellisander laughed quietly at that, and she relished the joy of being able to do so. "That is a thing that has been said of Westerosi."
"Is it?" And Daisy looked delighted and sly. "Ooo, share the Essosi shade on Westeros. I have thoughts."