Summary:When two individuals explode out of the heart tree at Winterfell, the Bolton's think it's a blessing from the gods. It certainly is a change in their fortunes. Sansa expected to die the day the Bolton's did after their guest made the ground shake with her fury. Only she didn't, and now she is nominally the one in charge. With no army, no support outside of those men who saw an angry god and decided not to help their liege Lord, and said god is now her terrifying guest.
Daisy would like to stop being mistaken for a god, and also reiterate flaying innocent people alive is not an acceptable practice. It would help if Fitz would wake up already because she's clearly not going to be able to get them out of the medieval hellscape they're now trapped in. Although Fitz wouldn't be her first choice of companion to be stranded with. And magic ice zombies, because of course there's magic ice zombies.
Notes:So weekly updates, and just...I'm gonna add tags as I go mainly because just this one is going to be a long one and I'm not done writing it yet.
(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)
Chapter 1Chapter TextSansa felt her shoulders loosen for perhaps the first time in years. She stared at her brother, he was cradling a bowl of warm soup in his hands. "I wasn't sure you would come."
"You are my sister. Where else would I go the moment I was free to come?" Jon's eyes were the familiar wells of quiet sorrow from childhood, only it was deeper now. But then they'd all faced horror since then. "I would have come sooner if I could."
Sansa looked at her brother. "How is it that you are free to come?"
"I am no longer a member of the Night's Watch." He looked at her, weighing his words. "I died, and I was brought back."
She wished she didn't know exactly why she believed him instantly. "I see, will they call for your return?"
"No?" Jon seemed to frown ever so slightly, clearly not expecting the easy acceptance of his apparent death and resurrection.
That was good. "What do you plan on doing?"
"You mean what are we planning. Father's ghost would come back to kill me if I didn't protect you." He gave a look at the walls of the Lord's solar of Winterfell they were currently sitting in. "Though I'm not sure you need my help."
Her lips twitched ever so slightly. "It's been an interesting month." She turned solemn as her eyes went back to the fire. "Do you remember when we were children? When father let us roast nuts and sit on the rug in here."
"Aye, and Old Nan would send up hot cider and he'd tell us tales of our ancestors." Jon's face was wistful.
Sansa had always been more interested in mother's tales of the south. How foolish she'd been, in so many ways. "We were happy then."
"We never should have left." Jon's voice was rough, a deep timber so similar to their father's.
Sansa felt the same emotion. The ache of past regrets. "Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left. I want to scream at myself, don't go, you idiot."
"How could we have known?" Jon asked, the sorrow still in his voice. It was as good as saying he thought the same as well.
Which she regretted more than her stupidity in wanting to go south. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. I wish I could change everything."
"We were children." He protested, an easy defence of her.
Sansa huffed, warmth suffusing her bones as she sat here besides her brother. "I was awful, just admit it."
"You were occasionally awful. But I'm sure I couldn't have been grateful, always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played." Jon gently joked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
She felt soft as she felt the freedom to tease, yet needing the answer all the same. "Can you forgive me?"
"Nothing to forgive." He replied so easily as if childhood hurts and insults had been nothing.
Sansa let her voice firm ever so slightly, her affection and love for her brother suffusing it. "Forgive me." And this time she insisted.
"Alright, alright I forgive you." He smiled then, and it was like the years fell away. Even if for a few moments.
She held out her hand, taking his and squeezing gently. "Thank you." Sansa swallowed as she considered the situation she was in. The precarious knife's edge she sat on, death and ruin on either side should she fall.
Jon clearly saw the change in mood. "How do you plan to hold Winterfell?"
"Don't you mean we?" His news of White Walkers and terrors beyond the wall seemed far away from the warmth and safety of the room.
He gave her a kind look of understanding. "Aye, how do you think we can hold Winterfell?"
Sansa looked at the fire. "We need the Lords of the North to acknowledge House Stark as Wardens once more. And we have no great victory to rally support from." She tipped her head up. "But we will not lose our home again. It is ours, yours, mine, Arya's, Rickon's and Bran's wherever they are."
"Do you have an army? Support? I only know the rumors that a god turned House Bolton to ash." Jon looked at her clearly hoping for some sort of explanation.
She stood, still facing the fire. The heat licking at her. "The side of the heart tree exploded, a woman and a man fell out. Roose thought them old gods come as blessings on the eve of his victory." How to describe what happened after? "The woman regained consciousness rapidly. She was worried for the man. She feared their travel from the realm of gods had damaged him. Roose ordered Maester Wolkan to attend to them, he also ordered for a feast to be prepared. The woman was quiet….when she was not with her male companion she asked questions, but was polite. On her third day Roose took her personally on a tour of the grounds. Something happened in the courtyard."
Jon didn't interrupt, just silently listened. His brow furrowed in a deep frown.
"I believe Roose had begun to doubt whether she was god or merely a charlatan. She wasn't, she is one of the old gods. Whatever was said she took insult. The guards in the yard, their heads snapped where they stood without being touched." Sansa had been looking down from the window when it had started. "It was fast. It took her an hour to clear Winterfell of the Bolton's. Just an hour. Those who survived have sworn loyalty to House Stark or agreed to go to the wall. The very ground shook with her displeasure."
Jon nodded. "Has her companion awoken?"
"No, but Maester Wolken is optimistic." Sansa felt her fingers want to shake. "The name she's given is Daisy Jonson. She stands guard over her companion, spends time in the yard with the men but is rarely without some tome from our library."
Jon spoke then. "What does she want?"
"Her companion to be safe, cared for. In exchange for shelter, care of the Maester and food she has agreed to protect Winterfell."
He gave a slow nod. "Is it possible the White Walkers are what have called her here?"
"Possibly? The only people I trust here are Brienne, Podric, and Theon." She held her hand out resting it on his shoulder. "He's not the same man who betrayed Rob."
Jon stood. "No, he wouldn't be if you could speak of him and trust together." He frowned. "Do you think these gods would help us in the long night to come? If we had a god to stand against the Walkers…" He didn't need to explain that it would mean hope.
"I could send for her, whether she comes or not would be of her own will." Sansa paused, she didn't know how to explain the unease playing host to a being of such power left her. But then it was clear she didn't have to. Jon's solemn face was drawn in such a way that the weariness and caution were written in the lines of his face.
She gave a nod and stepped to the door. Opening it she looked at the guard, one of the boy's who had once served house Bolton but now served her. "Send word to her Holiness that if she is amenable to it, I would be honored by her presence tonight."
"Right away M'Lady." He dipped his head sharply and then vanished into the shadows of the hall. It was late, and she'd ordered for only the areas in use to be lit. Winter was coming and they could not afford to waste what supplies they had. Especially when their position was so tenuous.
Jon poured three cups of the warmed wine. "You'd think the Night's Watch would at least make a good ale. I think they ruined ale for me for a while."
"Unfortunate." Sansa wondered at how minor that was. Such a little thing. But it was comforting. "How did you come to be Lord Commander?"
His eyes were so sad. "Very well, but I wish to know how you came to be here as well."
Sansa had stayed brief, spending little time on the horror and pain. She knew Jon had done the same, but the pain, loss and trials they'd both faced was unvarnished and hard. It was...like pulling poison from a wound. The quiet peace couldn't have lasted. There was a knock on the door.
They both turned. Sansa braced herself, and was pleased her voice at least came out strong. "Come in."
The door was opened by a guard who was clearly in some awe of the person/god walking into the solar.
Sansa found that for a god, Daisy as she called herself, was surprisingly human appearing. She didn't look like a Northerner. Her features looked more similar to those of traders from the east, Yi Ti perhaps, or even further. Especially about the eyes and nose. She was certainly a striking woman. If Daisy had bothered with her appearance perhaps even a beauty in a royal court. The ill fitting men's clothing, braid, and general air of barely put togetherness prevented that from being the case here and now.
Sansa stood. "We're honored you could come."
"A pleasure Lady Stark." Daisy's eyes stayed on Jon for a long minute. It was like she was weighing him, and then her eyes were back on Sansa.
Sansa let her court mask fall into place. "May I present my brother, Jon Snow, former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"Your Holiness." Jon gave a stiff bow.
Daisy held out her hand. "Please, call me Daisy. Both of you." Her lips twitched ever so slightly. "Your last name is Snow not Stark?"
"I'm a bastard." Jon, the idiot, brandished that like it wasn't something that could be taken as an insult.
Sansa examined Daisy. She had been so busy with trying to keep all of the Winterfell from instantly being retaken by someone she hadn't properly spoken with the other woman since the first few days after the Bolton's had been slaughtered. The easy brush off of a title was new. She also noticed that Daisy's body language didn't change at the new information.
"Ah." Her head tilted slightly before her focus returned to Sansa once more. "I'm unsure of your manners so I apologize if it's rude to ask. But why did you invite me?"
Sansa gestured to the open seat by the fire. "My brother brings grave tidings from beyond the Wall. Tidings we believe may concern you and your arrival." She barely kept from swallowing at the suddenly sharp eyes of the god. "Of course it is only a guess as we know little of how you came to be here."
"I see." She looked at Jon then, and there was the slightest tinge of hope to her. "It wasn't possibly a giant metal bird? Possibly one that vanished or appeared from nowhere?"
Jon took that in stride somehow. "I've never heard of something of that nature. My sister is referring to the White Walkers. They have returned to this realm and Winter Is Coming."
"What's a White Walker?" Daisy took the seat though, her face was interested as she looked at Jon.
Jon sat across from the god and spoke. His voice full and serious. "They are old beings of magic. White skin, blue eyes, their bodies are almost skeletal. They can bring the dead back, at this moment they are building an army of the dead. The only things that can kill them are fire, valyrian steel and dragonglass."
"Wait, magic ice zombies?" Her voice pitched up in surprise.
Jon's shoulders actually physically relaxed ever so slightly in relief at her recognizing the description. "Aye, I've never heard them called that. But they're real and they're coming with their army."
"How intelligent are they?" Daisy asked slowly.
He replied promptly. "They can still swing a sword, beat down a door, find and attack their enemies. But the dead are nearly mindless. The Others though, I'd say they're as intelligent as men. Their army is ever growing, a hundred thousand strong at least."
"Well fuck." Daisy leaned back in her chair and didn't seem to register the surprise at her vulgarity from either Sansa or Jon. She brushed some stray hairs behind her ear. Her voice was nearly a mumble. "It had to be fucking ice zombies." She blinked and then looked at them. "I hate to tell you I'm not here to help you with your White Walkers."
Sansa felt a thrum of fear. "Do you require our aid to achieve your goal then?"
"I…" Daisy frowned, but her eyes were clear as she looked at Sansa. "I have not been here long, but if I understand the situation correctly your world is at war. The Boltons were monsters who turned on their own side in the civil war leaving your family in ruins. This region is called the North and is divided and leaderless." Her voice was blunt as she spoke the truth, it wasn't pretty or even deep. But it was true.
Sansa's fingers would have trembled if she'd let them. "The North has served House Stark for thousands of years. They will do so again."
"Your position is weak, you need to rebuild what is essentially a country from rubble." Daisy didn't sound dismissive as she spoke. "Which leaves me." She stared at them. "Until Fitz wakes I'm trapped here. Even after he wakes up it will take him time to return us back to our home. Time and resources. And as you know I'm not familiar with your world. But I can tell you're certainly a better option than the Boltons were." Her lips pulled up in disgust at the mention of the Boltons.
Sansa's fingers tightened in the folds of her dress. "Are you offering your aid?"
"In exchange for protection and whatever Fitz needs to get us home." Daisy's eyes were bright and intelligent. "I'll help with the ice zombies or White Walkers or whatever they are. Though I'm not sure how useful my powers will be against them."
"What supplies would your companion need?" Sansa could not agree if the cost was similar to the cost rumored to be demanded by the red flame god R'hllor.
Daisy actually seemed to consider that. "Metal? Just mechanical bits and pieces? Really I'm not exactly up to date on how to build doorways to other realities." She shrugged. "Fitz would know."
"Will it require blood sacrifice?" Sansa asked, her spine as straight as it could be.
Daisy blanched. "No!" She leaned back slightly. "No. It's not magic, Fitz doesn't use magic, he's...well I don't think you'd understand the word for it. The closest you have are blacksmiths I think?"
"Like the Smith." Jon spoke.
Daisy's brow furrowed slightly. "In a way yes. But if you give him the tools and materials he needs, I will help you secure the North and deal with these White Walkers." Daisy held out her hand.
"Then I would be glad of your help, and to provide what your companion needs." Sansa felt the first flutterings of hope as she sat in a room with her brother and a god willing to aid them. She reached forward and took the god's hand and shook. It felt deceptively human.
Daisy's lips twitched up. "Well in that case I should explain how I can help." She straightened slightly. "I'm something like one of your knights, but also a bit like an assassin. I've commanded men, assisted in building up intelligence networks as well as military organizations and I guess the closest you would have would be breaking codes."
Jon spoke then, which was fortunate because Sansa was too busy trying to not cry in relief that they might actually be able to do this. Instead Jon ignored all common sense and went and asked as if the woman wasn't a god. "Your powers, will they work against the White Walkers?"
"I don't know." Daisy actually picked up the glass of wine set aside for her and sipped from it. "It depends on what magic bullshit they function under. But I doubt I can fight an army a hundred thousand strong, on my own, successfully without significant risk of it doing more harm than good."
Jon's eyes widened slightly at her assumption she could take the whole army of the dead on her own. "What harm would it do?"
"My powers are dangerous at that scale. It's...at a certain point control isn't possible." Daisy's face twitched slightly, her eyes darkening. "And you would not thank me for being your pet monster. It would leave you vulnerable and weak when I leave."
Sansa's eyes narrowed, she understood the last part well enough. They had to be tested and proven outside of this god's support when she left, or any stability would vanish the moment she left. It'd be the same as when the Targaryens lost their dragons. However that didn't mean there wasn't use for destruction on a much smaller scale than an army a hundred thousand strong. "But you could take a single castle safely enough?"
"I could turn it to rubble." Daisy's eyes had never really left her, even when Jon spoke.
Sansa gave a slight nod. Weakness meant death, but any human was nothing before a god. There was no point in false pretenses. Besides, Daisy clearly knew at least in part how precarious the situation was. "The dead may be coming but unless we've unified the North before they get here we'll have no hope. Then better we die in you unleashing your powers your Holiness than be turned into wights for the Night King's army."
"How do we do that?" Jon asked. "We have no army."
Sansa's chip tipped up. "We have our name, we have a power vacuum and the advantage of being the only ones aware of what the situation is. Without a battle to unify the Lords of the North they must choose us as their Warden once more. We must call a Lord's Moot. They will name their Warden of the North, and we'll ensure they choose correctly."
"Surprisingly democratic." Daisy was looking at her with what might be approval. "How does that involve me destroying a castle though?"
Sansa stood and stepped to the map of the North that lay on the table. "Men follow where they believe power resides. So we must ensure they believe that is with us. The Bolton's betrayed us, so they must be visibly removed. Their wealth, stores, arms all taken as retribution to house Stark." She looked at Daisy. "Could you with the aid of enough men do this?"
"You mean to raze the Dreadfort to the ground." Jon rose and moved beside her.
Daisy stood, stepping over to the map and clearly picking up the dot labeled as the Dreadfort. "Depends on how much you want me to bring back from it. I can't magic the loot from one place to another. I suppose they'd have the carts there. So however many men you think that part would require. But I can do that."
"Jon, you have an army of Wildlings loyal to you." Sansa looked at her brother.
He shook his head. "They don't serve me."
"They owe you their lives." She looked at the map. "If they aid us they will have a united North to fight the White Walkers they are fleeing. And I'll give them half of the Bolton's lands in payment for services rendered. So long as they do not turn against House Stark they would keep their knees unbent. Would they fight for that?"
Jon's face was serious, the lines he was too young to bare deeper than they had any right to be. But he nodded. "Aye, they'd fight for that."
"Then you'll need to ride for where they're camped by the Wall. As you ride, send word I will take any deserters or men in hiding from Stannis's army. House Baratheon and House Stark have long been allies. Their King may be dead but they can still serve an honorable life here." Sansa eyed the map, the many letters of Roose's she'd read came to mind. What she knew of the state of the Lords of the North. "Once you have the Wildlings send those who cannot fight here. But take the army along the western coast. Drive out the last of the Ironborn. Down to Deepwood Motte. Once you've aided Lord Glover in securing his land, raise his banners, as well as any banners you can between the Wall and here."
Jon leaned against the table. "I'm tired of fighting." He looked at her, his eyes so like their father's. "It's all I've done since I left." He closed his eyes, seeming to let his decision settle over him. "Without the North we can't stop the dead, we'll all die no matter how far we run. I'll do it." He frowned at the map. "But why raise the banners after riding the coast of the Ironborn? And with her Holiness and I gone Winterfell will be vulnerable."
"I have Brienne, and enough men to hold till your Holiness returns." Sansa looked at Daisy. "If you travel quickly it should be half a moon's turn."
Daisy looked thoughtful. "I can do it, but you don't have to call me your Holiness. I'm not a god, even if it's probably best we don't tell everyone that."
Sansa stared at the woman in disbelief. She couldn't help it. "You... that is to say many of the men have seen your powers. You have just agreed to destroy a castle more or less on your own."
"I didn't say I was human." Daisy shrugged. "I don't have holy abilities, I don't answer prayer, I don't hear it even if someone did try to pray to me. I can't see into men's souls or any of that. I can tell when a person is lying, but that's just because I can feel their heart beat change. But I can't bless or curse anyone, perform miracles or any of it."
Sansa's mouth felt dry as she tried to find a way to express how ridiculous the idea that this god was anything but a god was. Her eyes flicked lightly to Jon's equally baffled expression, before returning to the woman. "What would you have us call you then?"
"Daisy is fine, but if you have to use a title your closest equivalent to what I am would be 'Ser' I think."
Sansa gave a slight nod. "Very well Ser." She turned back to the map and pointed to Moat Cailin. "Roose has a garrison of Frey and Bolton men here. There's just straddlers and roving reavers and some still holled up in Glover's land. I may not know the specifics of war but I've seen Roose's plans. With Stannis defeated his next priority was securing the Moat and using it as a tool to subdue more of the North."
"Aye, a large force will be needed to take the Moat." Jon's face drew as he looked at the map. "What armies can we call on?"
Sansa's lips thinned. "Of the Bolton forces perhaps a thousand will take Stark banners. That and your wildling force is all we have without asking for aid. A request that without a larger army we will not be given on our name alone."
"That and the Glover host won't be enough for taking the Moat." He paused then, his eyes looked up at the god. "Unless you are willing to help us take it as well Ser?"
Daisy looked thoughtful as she studied the map. Her eyes easily flicking between names with clear understanding. "I will aid you. But the more I do for you the weaker your position will be when I leave."
"Which is why we won't be depending on your services so completely for this." Sansa's eyes narrowed as she pointed to Barrowtown. "We demand that house Dustin sends their hoard to join in the effort of ridding ourselves of the Boltons and Freys."
Jon looked at her sharply. "Lady Dustin holds no love for House Stark. Likely even has Frey and Bolton men in Barrowtown."
"And she was the first to recognize House Bolton." Sansa replied without flinching. "House Dustin must visibly pay for their support of the Boltons, however they did not aid in the Red Wedding. As such we demand the use of their men as well as a concession of fifty miles of land to House Cerwyn, a hundred head of horse, and ten thousand gold dragons. We'll have to make similar demands on House Ryswell. If our demands are met, they shall be forgiven for their support of House Bolton. Any House that willingly swore to House Bolton must face penalties or we will be seen as weak. It will also give us the men needed to take the Moat and secure the North from the west"
Jon shook his head. "We don't have the men to enforce such a demand."
"If we don't we'll never secure the North. The North won't follow a weak House."
Jon's teeth seemed to grit as he considered her words. "I can secure the western coast and Glover support with it. But I don't see how the rest of this can work. Not with our current numbers."
"Once the western coast is secure the Lords of the North will want any Freys gone. If we lead they should follow. And Lady Dustin isn't an idiot. If we succeed in truly regaining the North, she can't afford to be in our disfavor." Sansa looked to the god. "However I do not have a head for war. What would be your advice Ser?"
Daisy looked at the map. "You're right to start acting as a ruler. And the more small victories you gain the more support you'll find. But you'll need to form your council soon. Your brother and I are not enough. People who know how to handle the politics of all this. Your plan sounds smart. And you're right, you cannot leave traitors unpunished."
"And besides this effort to grow our forces and rid ourselves of invaders. What advice would you give for the rest?" Sansa knew her brother would have more to say once it was only them. But she needed whatever she could to convince him. And this god seemed to favor her suggestions.
Daisy met her gaze. "As your rule grows it will become more and more important that you have people organizing and running sections of your government for you. Having a support structure in place will keep everything from collapsing later."
"She's not wrong." Jon agreed. "I had Sam, a few of the men. But not enough in leadership, in the old guard. And I paid for it."
Daisy picked back up from him. "By the time you have your Moot you'll need a system in place. Likely sooner, I don't understand the politics of your kingdom yet. And your brother may have the right of it that demanding fealty and reparation for disloyalty isn't possible."
"Then we have eight moons." Sansa looked at the map. She had eight moons to gain control of the North. It was less than it would have taken to gather an army and take back those same lands. It had to be done. She picked up the box of pieces Roose had used to mark his men and enemies on the large map. "Jon how long do you believe it will take to secure the west down to the Motte?"
He looked at the map. "It depends on what resistance we find. But we'll move quick, two maybe three moons." Jon's mouth tightened. "I don't like the idea of leaving you alone for so long."
"We don't have a choice if we mean to succeed. And we'll never be safe if we don't secure the North. It's our home, without it they'll never stop coming for us. Once we have House Glover and the Dreadfort is nothing but rubble we can decide on House Dustin." Sansa looked at the map. They were going to take back their home.
Chapter 2Notes:One of you guys asked me and I thought it'd probably be a good idea to clarify. The rape/non-con tag is because general just GoT stuff. Also Sansa is dealing with her trauma with the Bolton's by bottling that shit up and avoiding it. So like it's a relative narrative point. But I have no interest in anything central or graphic or just...more than reference to it as a thing that has happened and does happen throughout the world and some of the emotional just shit from that. And like it gets brought up so I wanted to lean towards the side of caution with tags. So it's tagged. But I'm probably being overly cautious.
Chapter TextJon was tired as he sharpened his sword. Sitting here by the face tree he felt a stillness. It had been shocking to see the gaping wound in the side of the tree, leaking red sap where the bark was mangled from the gods emerging. He'd believed Sansa about what had occurred immediately. But it was different seeing for himself. Behind him, he heard the whisper of a gown upon the frozen grass.
"You look like father." Sansa greeted as she approached. She took the seat beside him on the roots of the tree overlooking the pool.
He looked at his sister. She was pale and drawn, her movements holding a certain stiffness that told him she was still physically pained from what the Bolton's had done to her. His grip on his sword tightened at the thought. "I never understood how he could spend hours here before. Now I don't want to leave."
"I don't want you to leave either." Sansa's profile didn't waver as she looked out across the pond in the godswood. "I wish I could ride with you."
Jon wanted to ask her to come with him. But he knew their plans required them to be parted. "Do you trust this god?"
"No." Sansa replied without hesitation. "But if she turns against us there is nothing we can do. If your Wildlings know how to kill a god it would be useful." She looked at him. "But her motivation since opening her eyes in this world has been protecting her companion."
He reached out his hand, laying it over hers. "I'm leaving Ghost. He'll look after you while I can't."
"I will hold Winterfell till you can return." Sansa looked at him with a strength and clarity of purpose he'd never known she could possess. "Don't let your guard down."
Jon tightened his grip over her hand. "I'll secure the western coast and return with as much haste as I can."
"Be careful. No one's loyalty is guaranteed." Sansa cautioned him.
He gave a slight nod. "Aye, I've learned that as well." And didn't it ache that they'd both learned that lesson. Jon sheathed his sword. "I'll send word when I can."
"Let us hope you find survivors of Stannis's army."
Jon looked back to the pool, it reflected the red leaves of the weirwood and the cold blue sky above them. "I don't like the men you have here."
"They're boys." Sansa replied, giving little away of what she must feel knowing the people now following her had been Bolton men and servants. The ones who'd seen a god and bent the knee rather than stand with their liege lord. Or, rather, pissed themselves and hidden till after the purge was done. "Stupid boys who didn't know to fear the death the Bolton's would give more than the quick deaths they would have faced from Daisy."
Jon's mouth tightened. "They're green boys, with uncertain loyalty."
"Brienne is more than a match for any of them. And the threat of Daisy's displeasure will keep them in line for the short time you're gone." Sansa straightened her skirts. "And green or not, they can do what will be required."
He reached out and hugged her to him. Things should be different. It should have been father, or Robb sitting here protecting Sansa. Winterfell shouldn't be a hollowed out husk of its former self. Their family should be whole and alive. But it was just them. And now he had to leave, to fight when his very soul cried out against such a thing. But Winter was coming and their home had to be secured. So he held his sister, and wished they didn't need to part again.
////
Daisy stared at the horse in front of her. "I may have miscalculated."
"Does Swiftfoot displease you, your Holiness?" Joran Fletcher asked nervously from where he was holding the animal's bridle.
She looked at the poor kid. He looked like he belonged on a high school football team, not here in armor off to go storm a castle. Still, the horse. "I'm sure Switfoot is a very nice horse." Daisy really had been stressed if she'd missed this obvious issue. "It's only I've never ridden one."
"Never?" Joran stared at her in disbelief.
Daisy scratched at the animal's nose, it really looked like a very nice horse. "The steeds I'm used to are made of metal and move a great deal faster than a horse is able to." She looked at the guard. "Should I ride with someone else for the first day 'till I'm used to it?"
"That would be…" His face went bright red.
She sighed, in other words inappropriate. "Right. Well, which side do I use to get on then?"
"The left, your Holiness." Joran's spine straightened.
Daisy gave a nod and stepped to the horse's left side. Grabbing onto the saddle with one hand, she slid her foot into the stir-up and swung herself easily up onto the saddle. She adjusted her position on the leather seat. Huh, somehow the horse was wider than she'd been expecting. And slightly higher. But she felt reasonably safe in her seat. At this height she'd easily be able to catch herself if she was thrown. "So how does one control the horse?" She looked down at Joran.
Joran was gaping at her with the look she was quickly learning meant she'd done something they considered vaguely divine. He opened and then shut his mouth. "You've truly never mounted a horse before?"
"No?" She petted the animal's neck. Six year old her who'd longed to just see a horse would die happy knowing her older self was going to ride one.
He gently handed her the reins he'd been holding for her. "Swiftfoot is a good horse, she'll do as you tell her with your legs. Just use the reins to gently guide the direction she should be going in. Keep the reins loose."
"How do I stop the horse? I have a feeling that bit is pretty important." Daisy's lips twitched up as she tried to put the poor kid at ease. Not that she was much older than him.
"To slow the horse, settle your weight into the seat and off the stirrups, lean back a little but keep your legs firm. You can then gently pull the reins back before releasing the tension. Keep in mind the reins are for direction not controlling." Joran stepped to a different horse and swung himself up into the saddle. He gently guided his animal besides hers. "Now for moving your horse, make sure you keep both of your feet placed in the stirrups."
Daisy glanced at her feet and adjusted them slightly. She had a feeling she was about to be holding most of her weight with her legs. Which joy, she was about to be thankful for all those hellish squats May had made her do. "Right, now what?"
"Sit deep in the saddle, you don't want to be tense, the horse'll know. Careful not to pull back on the reins at all. Then give Switfoot there a gentle squeeze with your lower legs. No need for kicking with Swiftfoot, she'll listen to gentle bumps. Just sit tall and straight, head up, keep your weight firmly on your heels." Joran showed her as he instructed, gently leading his horse in a slow circle of her.
Daisy gave a quick nod and gently squeezed her legs slightly. Time to learn, she had maybe twenty minutes before they were leaving for the road. But, well all of her training had been done on a miserably tight schedule. And she had super soldier serum in her veins now, which at the least better help with the sore muscles she was accepting were going to be her lot. Hopefully.
Daisy gently encouraged her poor horse abreast of Jon Snow's steed. She was painfully aware she looked like a sack of potatoes next to the other men. "Lord Snow."
"I'm not Lord of anything Ser, not anymore." Jon replied as he slowed his horse slightly.
She did her best to mimic the rising and falling motion the other riders were doing with the motion of their steeds. "I had some questions on the Wall and the Wildlings."
"I will answer what you wish to know." He was a solome man. Easy to read however with his restrained but heartfelt emotions. It was clear he didn't trust her and hated leaving his sister behind.
Daisy looked at him. "First, you look like you're marching to your own grave. Are you?"
"I hope not. Though if I die, I don't want to be brought back again." And ah, he did have a similar look to him as Coulson.
Daisy wondered at what magic they had in this realm. "Being brought back if you're gone too long it isn't something I've ever heard of going well."
"Do the gods often bring back the dead?" Jon asked, his face drawn.
"No." Daisy considered the several humans brought back from death. "I've met two humans brought back by gods, or something like a god. Both were used as vessels by whatever it was that brought them back. And Hive...there wasn't anything left."
"Oh." Jon looked forward. "It's not natural."
Daisy couldn't help agreeing. "It's not." She shifted slightly, sweet Jesus she was thankful for the serum at this moment, her thighs would be jelly right now without it. "So, what exactly is a Wildling?"
////
Jon found that for a god, Daisy was surprisingly curious. He hadn't been forced to talk so much in years. Not that she'd forced, she'd just been curious. It was no wonder the gods were no help if one of them knew less than nothing about the world of men. Though perhaps that was to be expected. He was silent now as he listened to her asking the men questions.
He couldn't fault her questions. But it was odd. She was clearly well spoken, educated, moved with a certain grace, intelligence. And yet she didn't know how to ride a horse? Of course she was picking it up fast. Only a day's ride and she was riding like perhaps a young person who'd been skipping some of their lessons. But to be there in just a day? And she hadn't slowed or shown any of the signs of distress new riders so often showed.
As they came up to a small clearing along their road, Jon pulled his horse up while signaling the men to halt. "We'll set up camp here." He swung himself from the saddle. Jon pulled his travel equipment. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Daisy easily swung her leg over her horse to get down. Only her other leg didn't catch the weight. Which was stupid, of course it hadn't. It was a common occurrence in new riders.
Jon stepped forward in panic, it'd be too late to catch her. Only, he didn't need to. She had barely slipped from the saddle when her hands shot towards the ground and she...floated for a second. The light snow and twigs below her were blown away by an invisible force. And then she landed on her feet with a laugh.
"Are you unhurt?" Jon found himself asking stupidly. It was clear she was fine.
Daisy adjusted the cloak that'd become somewhat twisted with her fall. "Fine." She was patting the side of her horse. With the easy motions of a soldier used to packing lightly, she untied and then pulled her travel pack off of the back of the horse.
Jon gave a slight nod. Well then. He shot a glare at the men. "Get to work, we'll need the camp set before nightfall."
As they sat around the fires their party ate their rations of dried meat and bread. It wasn't much, but they'd chosen to travel light. And at only a hundred men it wasn't a large party.
One of the men looked at Daisy and spoke with quiet reverence. "What are the other gods like?"
"Which ones?" Daisy looked at him, a faintly amused air to her. Which she'd taken traveling rations without comment or complaint. Jon had half expected he'd have to send the men to find something suitable from the inn two miles up the road.
The man flushed slightly at her full attention. "Well what about your sort. The old gods?"
"I'm not sure if I am one of your old gods. I could be, but it's not a title I've heard before." Daisy shrugged slightly, but then grinned before resting her hand on the ground. Her eyes closing.
At first nothing happened. But then the men made noises of shock. Jon realized it when the snow upon the ground began to melt. His eyes widened. Ripping his leather glove off he reached down and felt the earth. It was warm like a summer day. And the tickle, a faint tremble like the flutter of a bee's wing or the purr of a cat against his finger tips. He looked at Daisy expecting a sign such a feat had exhausted her.
Instead she just raised her hand, eyes opening easily. "I may not know if I'm one of your old gods. But I think I know who your Seven are. The Asguardians are ruled by Odin the All Father. Which I think makes him your Father from the Seven. I've never met him, but it's probably a good thing I haven't."
"Why?" Another of the men asked, his voice awed.
Her face was ever so cocky as she replied. "He sounds like a dick. His son Thor, your Warrior probably, is supes cool." She seemed to realize no one had understood the last bit. "Thor first came to the realm I call home several years back. He…."
Jon sat quietly besides Daisy, his mind still on the great battle she'd described between gods and men and monsters. He stared past the hot coals, into the dark night. "Do you ever get tired of the fighting?"
"Of course I do." Daisy pulled her cloak tighter around her. "But what's worth fighting for will always be worth it."
He thought of his sister, his black brothers, and every man, woman and child in the north. "I don't know how many men I've killed. But it never stops. I thought I could find Sansa and run."
"That's not who either of you are." Daisy looked at him, and she had an expression so similar to Ygritte when she knew something he didn't, only kinder. "I've been here a month, and there hasn't been a day Sansa wasn't organizing cleaning of the castle, repurposing of clothing, organizing watches, training hours in the yard, letters written and sent off with ravens, the maester, seeing to the repairing of your greenhouse."
Jon frowned slightly, but interrupted. "Greenhouse?"
"The giant glass building you have plants in. What do you call it?" Daisy looked at him curiously.
"Glasshouse." Jon replied.
She hummed. "Ah. Well what I mean is your sister is building something. And if you've been Lord Commander of something and only left after you died you're the same sort. That said vacation is a thing. You know, going to a place that's out of the way and just like sleeping in and reading or doing nothing for a few weeks. Please say it's a thing here?"
"It's a possibility for some." Jon wondered if small folk going to a tourney would count as a 'vacation'. But probably.
Daisy nodded. "You need one." She looked thoughtful. "You'll do no one any good if you burn out."
"There isn't time." Jon prodded the fire with a stick. "There never is."
She made a soft humming sound. "When you return to the castle I'll make sure you get at least a few days if you want them." Daisy frowned. "It never stops though. I doubt it will. I've always thought of it as...coding would make no sense to you. Like your beard I guess? You cut it, but it always grows back. So you keep cutting it. Does the fact it'll always grow back mean you're going to stop cutting it?"
"Killing isn't something so small." How small they must all be to her.
Daisy didn't disagree. "It isn't. But it won't stop, there will always be some new threat. I was fighting Chronicoms, gangsters and a weird planet of pimps." She clearly saw his confusion. "Immortal recorders of history, criminals, and the people who sell prostitutes. They also did a lot of gambling. But it doesn't really matter who or what they were. Because before that it was the Confederacy and Hydra, before the Kree and before that AIDA with the Framework and the Watchdogs. Before that it was ghosts, Hive, Lash, Hydra. Always Hydra. The ATCU, the Inhumans, traitors, Hydra, Centipede, Raina, my dad, Garrett, Ward, probably more I'm forgetting. And look at me now, I'm fighting a war for you and apparently there's ice zombies." She scoffed. "But it's what protectors do. They protect. And as long as who you aim to protect lives, it won't stop for long."
"And who do you protect?" Jon asked, though he felt a similar soul in this god. She didn't speak of what must be past foes defeated with pride, just exhausted finality.
The light flickered across her face. "I wanted to protect the world. But in the end I think I was just trying to save as many as I could while keeping the people I loved alive."
"How many worlds are there?" Because he'd gotten that from her. That the gods saw what he thought of as home as nothing more than some out of the way realm. Her curiosity and lack of knowledge simply affirmed that the gods didn't care for them.
Daisy sighed looking up at the stars. "An infinity of them. I'm not the one who'd know a better answer than that. Fitz will when he wakes."
"Is he your lover?" Jon asked cautiously. He doubted they were wed, she'd too easily accepted the title companion and laid no claim of the sort on him. But there was a focus and devotion there that was difficult to explain.
She laughed, turning towards him, eyes bright. "No, he's my friend." Daisy seemed to consider her words then. "Brother in arms? We've lived and fought together for years now."
"Oh." Jon wondered at that. But then wouldn't he have been the same for Sam or Pip? He'd like to think he would be. But fighting another's war, just for them, wasn't something he could say he'd do. "He's lucky to have you as a friend."
Daisy's face did...something. "He's done the same for me." She looked back at the fire.
"Then I hope he wakes." Jon stood then. "We should sleep, there is much land to cover in the morning."
She rose easily. "Thank you for the company then."
"You're sure you do not wish for a tent?" It still struck him as wrong to allow a woman to sleep on the ground the same as the men.
Daisy shook her head. "It's a clear night, and I've slept in worse places."
"As you wish." Jon gave a slight bow. He wasn't going to argue with a god over something as minor as that. Besides, he was beginning to understand she was a soldier. And it would be poor recompense for the conversation. He felt...calmer, less hopeless as he lowered himself on his bedroll. The ground was still too warm for the night or the season.
////
Daisy was...concerned as she saw the men riding with her along the road. They'd parted from Jon and his handful of men a few miles back. But it wasn't the absence of the man that bothered her. It was the looks of devotion the men gave her. From what she could tell there wasn't much in this place that could have challenged her before the serum. After it, well she probably was the closest to a god they'd ever meet. It was a good cover anyways. But it led to problems. Mainly what her removal from this world once Fitz was able to make them a portal out would do.
It hadn't been hard to pick up that the men who had been mostly loyal to their Lord. It was ingrained in them from birth. Their feelings about their Lord had been similar to an American's about their government. A very awful murdering psychopath of a Lord, still one they'd been raised to be loyal to their whole lives. Only now they'd been faced with their Lord and his most loyal facing 'divine' retribution. As if she'd have stood by and let more people be flayed alive. It had been rash, but Roose Bolton and his psychopath of a son had reminded her too much of Hydra for her to not act.
But it left the issue that these men, and the ones behind in Winterfell were for the most part loyal to her, not the Starks. Not that she was sure the Starks were good people. But they were better than the Boltons, and toppling a government and not helping establish a new one was a dick move. And from what little she'd seen, Sansa had the head and conviction to do it. But until Sansa had a force loyal to her it left everything a bit...awkward. And if these men decided to form some sort of cult army in her name...that wouldn't go well.
Daisy glanced at the men. She'd have to figure something out because she needed them to believe she was a god. But she didn't want to start some sort of religious cult. Hopefully Fitz had an idea of what to do because she was coming up blank. At least Jon seemed like a decent sort, depressing, but decent. It was nice to properly talk to someone.
"Your Holiness, do you believe we should send some men ahead to see if there is game ahead for dinner?" Joran asked. He'd apparently been chosen by the men as their liaison with her as they traveled.
Daisy ran through her newly developing mental medieval language filter. Game..animals to eat probably? Christ Jemma would be better at this shit. "Is that wise on this stretch of road?"
"Well we won't know what's up there till we take a look." Joran replied from his place in the saddle.
She considered that, and frankly not eating salted and dried meat for dinner would be nice. And she needed their belief in her being a god to be ironclad. Even if she still wasn't sure how to handle the inevitable issues with that. So she closed her eyes, letting herself focus entirely on the world around her. The vibrations of every subatomic vibration for miles around. It was too much information to process most of the time. But if she focused, only on the vibrations.
There was life teaming in these woods. Thousands of insects, birds, rabbits, squirrels. She could feel all of it. And then, just off the road to the right and down a small gully she could feel the heartbeat of a large animal. It wasn't a human, similar in size to a horse. Daisy reached out, focusing on the vibrations of the creature's bones, and particularly it's skull. She clenched her fist, and it's skull exploded into its brain. She felt it die, vibrations stilling but not all the way. Nothing was completely still.
Her eyes opened. "No need for anyone to ride ahead. We're alone for miles, but there's a deer or elk or something just down that gully."
"Right." Joran blinked, but he reached for his bow as he turned towards the gully.
Daisy sighed. "I killed it already, no need for the bow."
"Ah." Joran bowed as best he could in the saddle. And then rode down into the gully, two men breaking away from the group and following him.
She ignored the whispers of the men. Instead she focused on lowering and raising the temperature around her hand. It'd been something she'd been working on in space. The zepher's internal temperature control had broken early on in the hunt for Fitz. Which had left her with a time crunch and a stressed Jemma figuring out how to vibrate atoms faster for warmth and slower to cool that same air. Space had been very boring most of the time. Who knew Jemma had had so many ideas for her powers?
Daisy scratched at her horse's neck. It was bitter cold, but heating the air under her cloak helped. The men had noticed the air around her was warmer. She was surprised as a man she hadn't spoken to before rode forward slightly.
"Your Holiness." The man bowed his head.
She felt sad seeing him. He looked like another highschooler trying to grow out his first terrible attempt at a beard. "What's your name?"
"Erock Hogg your Holiness. I'm from a farm near the Dreadfort. If ya wanted to know about it." He offered nervously, his vibrations buzzing uncomfortably, heart beating slightly too fast.
Daisy smiled. "I would like that very much." And well, getting to know the men she had to convince she was a god while also preventing them from turning into a religious cult that would likely destabilize the entire region. So a typical SHIELD mission, at least the fate of the entire species wasn't at risk….well...there were the magic ice zombies.
Chapter 3Notes:I'm not going to be posting a chapter the first week of July. So just a heads up about the one week gap in the update schedule there.
Chapter TextSansa poured hot wax onto the letter she'd just written. She pressed the new ring with House Stark's direwolf into the wax before lifting it. The ring was new, the smith had only finished it a few days before. It felt odd to wear what was clearly a Lord's ring. But needed. The more she appeared as the lady of a great house, the more she would be treated as one. "Take this to Maester Wolkan. Tell him to send it to Riverrun, to my Uncle the Blackfish."
"Yes M'Lady." Podrick took the letter from her and scurried out of the room.
She let out a soft sigh and then pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and set her quill to the page and began to write. -Lord Wyman Manderly,- Her quill neatly scratched over the parchment as she wrote out the man's many titles. Reiteration of their families' long history together, filled with praise for their house's loyalty. She ignored the fact the Manderlys had recently pledged to the Boltons. The Manderlys were too important for feeding the North for her to be willing to do anything to them for it. Their position also left them trapped between Bolton loyalists, pledging to the Boltons was likely the only thing that had saved them from swift annihilation.
-In the wake of the fall and utter ruin of the traitor House Bolton, the North has been left unprepared for the coming winter. Ahead of the Lord's Moot that I have called to determine our future, I request that you send a representative to Winterfell to discuss an increase in trade to Essos. If we mean not to starve we must address the ruin of our food stores now. Any delay will be disastrous to the people of the North. House Stark is willing to invest a sizable amount into the purchase of grains...- Sansa continued to write out the possible profits and benefits of aggressively beginning trade now. She needed House Manderly's support; they were one of the largest and certainly the richest house in the North. Their support would be invaluable.
Also as a sign of favor to their house, as well as a convenient method of acquiring assistance from non-Bolton men, she continued. It was a sign of trust, and an offer of allowing Manderly influence into House Stark. Trust she didn't feel, but prefered over continuing to have only former Bolton men. -It is a small matter, but Winterfell has found itself without a Senchel. Due to our Houses' long friendship I would offer the position to a man of your household, or a man of your recommendation. As well as positions for any smallfolk looking for honest work.-
From there it was just a matter of finishing with the closing niceties and signing it. Sansa took a deep pleasure in signing her name 'Sansa of House Stark'. She set her quill back into the pot and lifted her dish of wax. Pouring and then pressing her seal into the hot wax once more she leaned back. That was that.
Then there was the matter of the other letter. She stared at it. She'd done her best to imitate Roose's hand. That as well as the seal of House Bolton in pink wax made it as convincing of a forgery as was possible. But it could go badly if it was discovered she'd committed this fraud. On the other hand if it worked...if it worked it would guarantee House Umber's loyalty. If it worked she'd be forgiven for the trickery, possibly praised for it. If it failed it'd be a hammer to discredit her. In the end it was no choice at all.
Which left the last matter she intended to see to, before leaving the Lord's solar and seeing to the business of running a castle, a small but growing army with only a quarter of the staff required for such a task. Not to mention her efforts to get as much of a crop planted as possible before winter truly started. Everyone could taste the coming winter in the air. There wasn't much time if any to wring a last harvest from the ground before it was too late.
With that not particularly pleasant thought she began to draft an official line of succession for House Stark. Half the houses of the North were having succession crises and she would not risk it happening to her family. She paused, staring at the page. It needed to be written as if the Starks were still Wardens, not Kings. The Lords of the North would not risk nor could they afford to remain in rebellion against the crown. If they could be persuaded to name House Stark their liege Lords again it would mean submitting to Lannister rule. For the length of the winter at least.
So she penned out the line of succession for the noble House of Stark. Within it she referred to Jon as Jon Stark. He was her heir. If Bran still lived he would become Lord Stark upon his sixteenth name day. The same for Rickon if he should be found and Bran lost to them. Should she die without issue and neither of her baby brothers returned, Arya inherited. Should Arya also not be found then Jon. She placed herself as regent should Bran or Rickon be found, Jon as regent should she perish. The line was clear. Bran, Rickon, herself, Arya, Jon. Herself and then Jon in the case of a regent being required.
Sansa stared at the document, and then placed the seal of their house upon its page. And it was done. Perhaps not the most secure method of securing the line of succession, but it was something. Something she could solidify with time. In the meantime she would have to ensure Jon was legitimized. He was a Stark and should hold that name no matter who his mother was. It risked the Lords choosing Jon as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. But Jon would be a fair Lord. Especially if she could keep him from doing anything monumentally stupid.
But bending the knee, an oath that no Stark would leave the North for a hundred years, the North no longer in rebellion against the throne, but also likely a concession of a keep to a Lord of the Westerlands ensuring the North could not be closed to the crown again, and Tommen might accept. It burned to think of the North leashed to the Lannisters in such a way. But the North didn't have the strength to fight the South and the dead. And it would give them precious time to rebuild their strength before summer returned and with it an appetite for war. It was necessary.
She stood, and left the Lord's Solar.
The halls smelled clean, the filth of the Boltons freshly scrubbed away. She walked, the heavy footfalls of Brienne following behind her. As they walked an older serving woman came bustling towards them. The woman gave a bow. "Lady Stark."
"Grainier, yes?" Sansa had had little contact with the woman whom she believed to be a seamstress. "Did you require something?"
Grainier easily fell into step besides, but just a touch behind her, allowing Sansa to continue to walk. "M'Lady. It's just what are we doing for the wardrobe of her Holiness?"
"Yes, that is something pressing." Sansa considered as they walked the issues at that. "Her Holiness seems inclined to not notice her garb." Which that wouldn't do. Leaving a god to walk around in Roose Bolton's things was unacceptable. "Do you have a suggestion?"
Grainier nodded eagerly. "I thought I might take Lord Bolton's wardrobe and use what I can and send the rest to be used for the men. Then if I had leave to use some of the finer fabric for the outer tunics, I could make something suitable."
"What are your current tasks?" Sansa asked, she couldn't afford to work any of her people too hard. Hard, but not into the ground.
Grainier replied easily and without hesitation, a point in favor of her loyalty at the moment. "I'm repurposing the Bolton banners M'Lady."
"Then your time can be afforded for the project." Sansa allowed as she considered the constraints. "Two outer tunics in a men's cut but tailored for a woman's body. Use the linen from Roose's chests to make a week's worth of shirts, breaches, and small clothes. Repurpose the fur as needed to make a proper cloak for her."
Grainier 's eyes lit up. "I can do that," she beamed. "I was thinking, silver or grey with red weirwood leaves as a pattern?"
Sansa gave a slight nod. "I agree. I expect to see your work in the evenings."
"Of course M'Lady." Grainier curtsied.
Sansa turned her attention away from the woman as she continued on her way. The Lords of the North may still be loyal to House Stark, but loyalty would mean nothing if she wasn't strong enough to claim that loyalty. She had much to do and not enough time to do it.
////
Daisy had come to the conclusion that killing the Boltons had been a far better choice than she'd thought. Every word about them from their former soldiers filled her with a sick sense of disgust and revulsion. The flayed corpses, men permitted to rape, and obvious psychopathy of that vile Ramsy had made the decision of eliminating them easier than it should have. But the more she learned the more she was sure she was glad she'd done it. Not that she'd personally killed Ramsey.
She shifted in the saddle, her legs only ached a bit. Unexpected perk of the serum. Her eyes were focused above the tops of the trees. "That's the Dreadfort then?"
"Aye your Holiness." Hogg touched the hilt of his sword. "We come out of the trees around tha' corner. You'll get a proper look at it then."
Daisy glanced at the men. "Joran, make sure the men stay behind or beside me. None of them need to die for this."
"Your Holiness." Joran pulled back to give directions to the men.
She squeezed her legs tighter, her horse speeding up into a quick trot. As she came around the bend she took in the great jutting fortress as her shoulders fell back. The Dreadfort lived up to its name. The towers looked like great sharp teeth reaching into the sky. The light turning its walls nearly to red in the light of the fading dawn. It looked every inch a cursed place. Her fingers tightened around the reins. It'd take a lot to turn something that massive to dust. She could do it, knew she could down to her bones. But not cracking the earth open beneath it when she did so would be the trick.
The approach was silent save the noise of the horses and leather as they rode up the road to the great gate of the fortress. Daisy pulled up her horse a stone's throw from the gate. She gave a slight gesture to Joran, hopefully the man knew what to say. Cause riding up on a castle and demanding it be looted and everybody volunteer to go be prisoners or join up wasn't exactly SHIELD protocol. Wasn't even close to being in the book. She'd fix that when she got back. Whole ass chapter on what to do in a medieval hellscape.
Joran proved to have a brain as he cupped his hands and shouted. "OPEN THE GATE ON BEHALF OF HOUSE STARK AND THE OLD GODS AND BEND THE KNEE THAT YOU MIGHT BE SPARED!"
There was a sound from up on the wall. Daisy barely caught the arrow in the air, turning it to splinters before it could pierce Joran's throat. She sighed. "Right." She reached up, finding the vibrations of the gate.
The great gates that had likely stood for hundreds of years shattered in a rain of twisted metal and splinters.
With her hands already facing their party it was far easier to shatter the replying hail of arrows. Daisy swung herself out of the saddle and stepped forward. She looked up at the wall. The fear of the men was tangible to her, she could feel their hearts roaring and the fumbles of their fingers. She raised her voice enough to carry. "Get the man in charge down here before I bring this entire castle down with you in it."
Daisy didn't take her eyes away from the threat ahead of her. But she spoke conversationally to the men behind her. "They've sent a man to fetch whatever man is in charge here. It shouldn't be long now."
"Right...your Holiness." One of the men choked. This definitely counted as proof of divinity as far as they were concerned.
The wait was tense, but slightly awkward in it's silence. Seizing castles was meant to be a bit more...well important maybe? Daisy had never been a fan of period piece films anyways. She stood steady as a man came rushing into the courtyard behind the now broken gate. He had maybe fifty men in full gear behind him, shields held up as they formed up in the courtyard.
Daisy sighed, fine. Dramatic it was. She'd been practicing lines in her head during the ride at least. "Joran, Hogg with me. The rest of you stay here till they've surrendered." She didn't have to bother with checking if they followed her orders. She could feel it. Endless meditation time had benefits.
Stepping forward she let her powers bubble beneath her feet. The ground rumbling with every step. Daisy ignored the cries and screams as she walked through the arch of the gate and out through into the courtyard. Daisy eyed the older, bearded man clearly in charge as she came to a halt some feet in front of him. "I assume you're in charge."
The man stared at her in horror.
"Bow before her Holiness." Joran urged the man to do as instructed. "She emerged from the heart tree of Winterfell."
The man dropped to one knee, the men at arms following his example with some hesitation. But they did so. Their hearts all racing as they nervously looked around, unsure about what they were doing. The man spoke. "My name is Walder Frey, the men call me Big Walder your Holiness." He held out the hilt of his sword.
She raised a brow at that. The dagger she could feel him palming, the way his vibrations felt braced for action. Daisy's mouth tightened, no easy surrender then. Make a statement strong enough and the rest should fold. Afterall, they didn't have a leader to remain loyal to. So she stepped forward and took his sword's hilt.
The man lunged, a snarl on his lips and stabbed forward with his dagger. "Witch!"
Daisy caught his hand holding the dagger. She'd have managed it without powers. He hadn't been careful. "Wrong." Holding onto him she slowed the vibration in his arm starting where she held him, all the way through him.
Walder cried out in horror, after all humans were sixty percent water. And she was freezing it. It was gruesome, but it was about the statement needed to prevent further bloodshed. And it was fast. Walder didn't even get a word out before he was frozen solid. His face trapped in a mask of horror. His skin an awful pale color.
Daisy released the now dead man's hand. "You have three choices. Surrender and swear fealty to House Stark. Surrender and take the black. Or don't, and follow in Walder's example." She held back her disquiet over killing like this. "Now, who is in charge?"
////
Sansa measured her new captain of her guard and Master of Arms. Davith Bower was maybe thirty, with a certain hardened edge to him. "Do we have the men to spare to send a party of five to meet with my brother on his journey from the Wall to Deepwood Motte or not?"
"Strictly speaking we don't have enough men as it is M'Lady." Bower scratched at his head. "I could maybe spare three if it's that important though."
She stayed still, not a twitch of self doubt. "It is that important, and these messages are too large for a raven."
"I'll go fetch the men now if ya want M'Lady?" Bower tipped his head.
Sansa gave him a nod of consent. "If you would." It wasn't a question.
He was gone in the swish of a cloak.
"Lady Sansa, are you sure it's wise to leave us so vulnerable?" Brienne asked once Bower was out of earshot.
She touched the flap of the leather satchel she'd placed the correspondence she meant to send to Jon. "If we're not to be vulnerable in the future we have to risk it now."
"Very well then." Brienne settled.
Sansa explained to her lady knight. "House Hornwood is in a succession crisis. If I settle it for them I earn the loyalty of the heir I've named and supported. I further ensure House Glover's loyalty as they'll approve of my choice. And I'll have shown I'm capable of doing what is required as Lady of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North."
"Who are you naming heir?" Brienne asked.
It had been the obvious decision. "Lawrence Snow, ward of Lord Glover and the only surviving male issue of Lord Hornwood."
"You don't have the authority to legitimize a bastard?" Brienne frowned. "Unless you mean to claim the Northern crown?"
Sansa's spine felt like steel. "I'm a princess and a lady. Until the Lords of the North name a Lord I'm both royal and noble. And who will contradict me?"
"That seems a risk." Brienne remarked.
She knew she'd chosen rightly. "Sometimes risks are required to survive. And House Hornwood will hold no love for the Boltons after what Ramsey did to the late Lady Hornwood." Sansa saw the lack of comprehension on her sworn sword's face. "He forcibly married her, starved her, and claimed her lands and titles for himself."
"I'm glad you stabbed him." Brienne's eyes narrowed.
Sansa felt an odd mix of nausea and vindictiveness at the memory of his death. "Theon tackled him." She tipped her chin up. "When a god begins to wreck death and vengeance as the ground shakes with their wrath, there is nothing left to lose." She paused. "And I needed it to be me who killed him."
Sansa listened to Maester Wolkan's report. "And Walda Bolton?"
"Is in good health, her pregnancy is progressing well." Wolkan flinched slightly at whatever he saw on her face. "Have your orders changed for her?"
Sansa breathed out slowly. "No, she will remain my prisoner and unharmed. If she has a daughter the girl will be sent to become a septa when she is old enough. A son will be sent to take the black. Walda will be sent to the Silent Sisters as soon as she's recovered from the birth. I will not have a pregnant woman murdered."
"Your mercy does you credit Lady Stark." He bowed, his chains clinking.
She hated that she was showing that mercy. The sooner the child was born and she could be rid of Walda Bolton the better. "Our guest shows no change?"
"His color has improved, and his heart remains strong. But I cannot tell when he will wake." Wolkan folded his hands inside his sleeves.
Sansa moved on then. "Have you prepared the plans I requested?"
"Your idea to turn the Broken Tower into a storehouse is well reasoned. I've had plans drawn up." He pulled out a scroll and rolled it open on the table, using two candle sticks to hold it open. "I believe there is enough labor to be had from Winter Town to begin repairing the roof and the support beams. It will take a while, but it will be worth doing."
Sansa parsed through the plans. They appeared solid, not that she would know much of anything on the topic. "What of the accounting of the coffers?"
"Your father was a good Lord and was fiscally responsible from what I've been able to gather from the remains of the ledgers. However war is expensive and House Stark was never the wealthiest of Houses. Your brother spent a great deal, and Lord Bolton used a great deal to pay his own soldiers from your family's coffers. Which has left you with two million four hundred thirty thousand and six gold dragons. A not insignificant amount."
Sansa felt sick. "But not enough for a House Paramount. And not enough to last us ten years of peace, let alone to rebuild anything." So that was another thing to desperately repair. There was the Ironbank. But it was nearly ruinous news. Even if they could get an army those funds wouldn't last three years under the strain required as a House Paramount in winter. Forget a House Paramount under the strain they were under and in a region as ruined as the North with a war on their doorstep.
"No, it's not." Maester Wolken at least refrained from adding anything to that.
She pressed her hands against the front of her skirts. "And the letters between Lord Bolton, Lord Ryswell and Lady Dustin?"
"I've found my records of letters I sent between those houses. As well as some few more missives. But not as many as you had hoped, My Lady." Wolkan replied.
Sansa remained calm. It was all she had. If things continued in this way she would be forced to request aid from Lord Baelish no matter how she felt about the matter. And he would provide it. He needed her for his goals. And he had both gold and armies now as well as Regent for Sweet Robyn. "Thank you for being so prompt in your work Maester."
"If you require anything else, Lady Stark." He waited for her decision.
She shook her head. "No, that will be all for now." It would seem she had no choice but to make an example of Lady Dustin and Lord Ryswell. Jon wouldn't like it, but it needed to be done and would be their only hope of stopping the financial bleeding. If it was summer there would have been options. Taxes and careful stewardship might have saved them. But not with the dead coming and winter on their doorstep.
"Lady Sansa, do you still wish to speak with the Master Huntsman?" Brienne asked carefully.
Sansa turned, as calm as she could present herself. "Of course, we need to bring in what fresh meat we can before the snow falls in earnest."
"Lady Stark." Brienne held open the door for her.
Sansa gave a ghost of a smile to her sworn sword. "It could be worse." Her lips twitched slightly. "Dragons could be burning the countryside."
"Quite fortunate dragons are gone then." Brienne replied.