Chapter 4Notes:Just a reminder there won't be a new chapter next weekend. I'm getting married so I'll be a bit busy. But the weekend after that I'll be back and posting. I've got the drafts through chapter 19 written so like no fears of me running out of updates.
Chapter TextDaisy stood by the face tree of the weirwood. The vibrations here were strange, a low song creeping through the roots. It made sense something of the kind would be what had pulled Fitz and her into this reality. She had no interest in having to quake her way out of a tree again. It hadn't been pleasant. And the sap had taken days to get out of her hair. The panic of not being able to breathe had been the worst though.
But standing here, it felt...cleaner than it did inside the Dreadfort. She never wanted to step foot inside that castle again. The smoky torches were held up by human arms mounted to the walls. Sure those arms were nothing but bone, but it was disturbing. Especially the scale of how many human arms there were. That wasn't even getting into the flayed and preserved skin. She had suspicions about what sort of leather was used for some of the chairs. The week it had taken to loot this place to the ground had been exhausting.
"Your Holiness?" Joran asked cautiously, the deep reverence in his tone that had begun around the time she'd frozen the tenth man who'd blatantly lied to her.
She looked away from the tree's gaping mouth, leaking red. "Yes?"
"The loot train is prepared, and the prisoners are gathered." Joran bowed at her attention.
Daisy sighed. "And the people of the village?"
"A little over half your Holiness." Joran replied. He hesitated slightly, but then continued. "I believe given some time more may choose to leave. Until then they are willing to protect what goods we are unable to carry with us. But with no Lord here it's not...well not dependable rightly."
She stepped forward and set her hand on his shoulder. "Well done." Daisy eyed the poor guy who'd stepped up as her second in all of this. "Let's leave." She squeezed his shoulder and then walked past him towards the castle.
It wasn't a long walk from the gods' wood through the Dreadfort, out into the courtyard and from there to the road beyond. But it felt long. She felt like the ugliness of the place stuck to her. Daisy took in the loot train. It was full of wagons and carts. Five hundred fifty two men at arms now sworn to House Stark and returning to Winterfell with them. But after the animals, the villagers, and laden carts...it was a massive undertaking. That said the villagers had been pleased to loot the Dreadfort to their hearts' content.
Daisy waved Korb over. "Take the prisoners to the Wall. Keep a guard rotation on them."
"I got it ya Holiness." Korb straightened, pleased at the acknowledgement. "It'll take a smith to get 'em out of the chains."
Daisy had insisted on that. The men being sent to the Wall were scum. "Be careful, I expect you to survive Korb."
"Course ya Holiness." He bowed as deep as he could, before turning and beginning to shout, getting the men destined for the Wall moving.
Daisy pulled her gauntlets out of the saddle bag of her horse. "Joran, get Fischer to start moving the train. They need to be further off so I don't harm anyone when I bring down the castle." She turned to face the Dreadfort and closed her eyes, focusing on the ground. The faults, the stone of the foundation. Every crack and weak point in the walls of the Dreadfort. It was strong, it would have stood for god knows how long if she hadn't of been there. But she was sickened by the place.
The sounds, smells, and vibrations of the carts began to move further off. Daisy waited and then she let her powers crack the earth.
////
Sansa lowered her sewing as the door of her solar opened. "Bower, thank you for coming."
"M'Lady." He shuffled slightly, poor man. She needed a more senior and experienced man to take his place as Master of Arms. But for now he was the best option she had.
She gestured at the chair across from her. "I'm going to be blunt. We need a party of fifty men in Bolton colours to ride out to rendezvous with a prisoner from the Twins."
"We've all sworn to House Stark. To you?" Bower spluttered in shock.
Sansa disliked this plan herself, but it was necessary. "You have, but the Freys don't know that yet. I wrote under Lord Bolton's name requesting the transfer of their prisoner Lord Umber. I received word from the Freys today. They have agreed and will be moving him with a large party here to Winterfell."
"M'Lady, we don't have the men. Not with how many we sent to your brother." He curled inwards, likely a trained response to saying 'no' to a person above him.
Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. She'd expected that answer, the Freys had responded too soon. "Very well, thank you for your honesty. I will find another way to secure Lord Umber's rescue." Though she didn't know how.
Sansa nearly lept out of her skin at the sight of someone in her room. She only failed to scream due to the terror stealing the air from her lungs. One hand pressed to her chest as she recognized the person leaning against the wall by the window. "Daisy."
"Sup." Daisy raised a hand, she frowned. "Are you ok? I didn't mean to startle you that badly."
She touched the wall. "How did you get here?"
"I can sorta fly." Daisy held out a scroll of parchment. "I brought a list of what we looted out of the Dreadfort. Which, the local peasants were very enthusiastic about stealing everything they could carry."
She blinked, but nodded, moving to the table with wine on it. "It's done?"
"Yup." Daisy moved forward and poured wine into Sansa's cup. "But I assumed you'd want news of what happened before everyone just shows up here."
Sansa accepted the drink. "Thank you, that will certainly be useful." She paused. "Do you have fifty men you can spare?"
"I can spare that many. I picked up quite a few new men. Although that is a problem I may have caused faster than I was expecting it." Daisy's face twitched. "Their loyalty is focused on me."
Sansa felt a shiver down her spine at that. She knew exactly how dangerous it was for the loyalty of men to fall away from House Stark. But a problem she had already been aware of. "Why faster?"
"The men at the Dreadfort weren't conveniently willing to rush to their deaths if they were truly loyal to the Boltons." Daisy showed open disgust. "The torches in their castle were held by human arms. Horrible doesn't go far enough to describe it."
She took a seat, nauseous at the reminder of the truth of the Boltons. "My ancestors should have killed them all."
"You're not wrong." Daisy crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "The men left at the castle were more loyal than the ones here. Or maybe less afraid. So I was forced to ensure there was no doubt that I was a god." She looked at Sansa steadily. "I may not be one of your old or new gods but I am inhuman."
Sansa frowned slightly at that term, 'inhuman'. It wasn't the first time Daisy had said it. And she was beginning to think it was important. "If I may, what did you do?"
"I brought the gate down, turned a lot of arrows into splinters, froze every man who tried to kill me or who lied when swearing loyalty to House Stark, and I might have made the earth shake with my footsteps." Daisy winced. "And instead of just shattering the Dreadfort I had the earth kinda swallow it?"
Sansa took a long drink of her wine. That was horrifying, and the god was clearly capable of finding access to her chambers without alerting anyone in all of Winterfell. And did all of this with only being partially aware of how terrifying that was. If the stakes hadn't already been everything hanging in the balance, Sansa imagined the thought of the danger this god presented would have left her shaking. Instead she used her wine to steady herself. "I see, their loyalty is entirely to you then?"
"I'm pretty sure." She pushed off from the wall and took the seat by the fire. "I've never had worshippers before. It's...weird."
Sansa considered the issue, it could become a plague destroying any hold of power she meant to hold. She would not rule dependent on the benevolence of a god. "Then a religious order in your name will need to be founded. It will mark out the truly zealous."
"Forming a religious cult sounds like a terrible idea." Daisy looked at her in confusion. "I've never heard of a cult being a good thing."
Sansa tapped her finger against her cup. "I've begun the repair of the Broken Tower. Half of it could be turned into the barracks for men sworn to your order."
Daisy frowned, though she wasn't protesting. "A structured religious military order. We could make that work, but it could go very badly once I'm not here."
"It could." Sansa knew enough history to know how dangerous religious orders could be. A simple look at the fate of Stannis Baratheon was more than enough for that warning. She looked at Daisy. "What do you consider sins?"
Daisy huffed in amusement but then shrugged. "I don't care about 'sin'." She raised both hands and did an odd motion with her fingers as she said the word 'sin'. "But that doesn't mean I can stand around when evil shit is happening. I mean the Boltons were flaying people. Also feeding peasants to their dogs. It was sick."
"You're a soldier." Sansa wondered at that. It made some sense, if Daisy was a minor earth or war god it could explain her dislike at being even considered a god. If she was aware of more powerful beings she did not wish to insult. "I would ask you to at least warn me of any actions you find objectionable before punishing anyone for committing them."
Daisy nodded. "I doubt anything I find objectionable you won't." She brushed some of her hair behind one ear. "So what's this about sending fifty men somewhere? And should I go with them?"
"It would probably be best if you don't accompany them. No true party of Bolton's would hold a woman, especially not one of your looks amongst them." Sansa was beginning to think so long as she didn't lie to the god that the god's ire was not easily raised. Which was fortunate considering what she was asking. "But I need them to go, looking like Bolton men, acting like Bolton men."
Daisy didn't act horrified at the possibility of duplicity. "I can send Joran, the men would follow him. But where are they going and what do you need them to do?"
"A rescue mission of one of my family's loyal Lords." Sansa looked away from the god then, she needed to if she meant to avoid crying in front of the woman. "They call it the Red Wedding. My brother Robb, the first King of the North since the King who Knelt, The Young Wolf. He was at the wedding of our uncle Edemure Tully to a daughter of Walder Frey. The Freys and the Boltons killed him, his wife, our mother, and nearly the entire Northern host. Lord Umber, though he is called the Greatjon, was captured and has been held by the Freys ever since."
Daisy made a soft sound. "I'm sorry, I'd heard of it from the men. You don't need to explain more of it if you don't want to."
"Ah." Sansa straightened her skirts. "I wrote a letter using the former Lord Bolton's seal and as close to his hand as I could copy. It requested a party of Freys to bring the Greatjon to Winterfell, so that the man could be a more present reminder of why House Umber need follow House Bolton. I received a letter from Walder, he has sent a party of sixty Frey men to escort the prisoner here to Winterfell. If a party of Bolton men were to take hold of the prisoner and bring him here, he would be safe. I could return him to his house and family. It may be a lie and murmur's show but it is the only choice apart from mounting a siege of the Twins."
"Smart plan." Daisy replied without an ounce of judgment. "You intend to just take the prisoner and ride off, no violence or fighting. Definitely a smart choice considering everything. We have a few Bolton banners and shit we were using to cover up and secure the boxes. If you send me with a map and direction of where and when to meet the Freys I can send some men to handle it."
Sansa's eyes snapped sharply towards the god. "You're not against the deception?"
"Spy, assassin." Daisy gestured to herself. "You say soldier but I'm not that kind of agent. It's a good plan, and you're clearly doing what is needed to protect your people. I'll speak with the men and make sure they can pass as loyal and pull this off."
"Oh." Sansa had half expected to be forced to beg for mercy or forgiveness for her plan. It was confusing, this wasn't how she'd expected a god to behave. Not that she'd imagined meeting a god in person even at her silliest. "Will you be here often, or will you come with the loot train?"
Daisy looked thoughtful. "According to Wilbur and Joran the journey will take at least another week. It's helped I can get the carts that get stuck out of the holes without needing to slow the whole party. Do you need me to come and check in between now and our arrival?"
"If something changes or you are delayed." Sansa decided. She looked at the other woman. "Should I have a bed prepared for you?"
Daisy shook her head. "No, it's best that the men don't realize I left them."
"Then I have letters to write and a map to make for you." Sansa stood and moved to the desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.
Daisy's voice was quieter then. "Fitz, has anything changed with him?"
"Maester Wolkan insists that he will wake when he wakes. That his heart, lungs and color are good." Sansa saw the affection on the god's face. The concern. "It's as sure as it can be that he will survive."
Daisy seemed to settle slightly. "Thank you."
"He means a great deal to you. I cannot think of many friends who would be as dedicated as you are to him." She picked up her quill and began to write out the letter in Roose's hand. It would hopefully ensure Lord Umber was passed peacefully over.
"If he wakes before I get back he'll be distrustful of you. Tell him...when he lived on the bus his bunk was between Skye and Jemma's. Also it's probably a good thing he never got to show his equipment to Skye. That should ensure he listens when you tell him he came through the portal with Daisy and that I'll be back soon." Daisy paused. "And Jemma is safe but didn't come through with us. He'll do something dumb if he thinks Jemma is here and in danger."
Sansa looked up at the other woman. "Is he dangerous like you?"
"No, he's human. I think that's why it hurt him to come through." Daisy seemed to consider the possible risk her companion could present. "He's capable of killing to escape if he thinks it's necessary. He may not be a fighter, but he's the smartest man I've ever met. Locking him up anywhere won't keep him in place long. But if he knows you're an ally, I'll be back and Jemma is safe, he should be peaceful."
Sansa breathed out slowly while considering that. "Would you consider writing a letter for him?"
"That would work." Daisy hopped up and walked over and looked at the quill. "This is not going to look great. The quill thing is uh...let's call it new. Or really really old."
Sansa set a piece of parchment on the desk in front of the god. "If you wish to practice there is time."
"Naw, he'd be weirded out if my handwriting wasn't horrible." She had an amused grin on her face as she picked up a quill. "My handwriting has never been particularly good. Perils of being a hacker."
Sansa had questions about what 'hacker' was. But wanted to be able to sleep with only minimal nightmares. So she simply continued with her work.
////
Daisy's nose was very cold as she woke up. She squeezed her eyes shut. The North really sucked. Also who named a country after a direction on the compass? Who did that!? And how was this snowy hellscape not currently in the middle of winter? She could hear the sounds of other people waking up. It made it worse knowing they'd actually wait on her if she failed to crawl out of her sleeping roll. She sighed and opened her eyes.
The sky was clear and blue, air freakishly cold, and it smelled weirdly of nature and horse shit. Though perhaps not weirdly. Mornings traveling through nature by horseback were oddly routine she mused as she pulled her outer tunic over her shirt. And then immediately wrapped her cloak around her, using her powers to heat up the air around her. She was a California girl, sorta. Her bedroll needed to only be rolled up and set with her gear, and she was off to one of the small fires for porridge.
She purposely ignored the looks of awe, and bowed heads. This was ridiculous...and she was going to have to form a cult. Fun. So much sarcasm. "Morning." She sat down on the ground by the fire.
"Your Holiness." Wilbur Thatcher uttered as he passed her a bowl of porridge. If it had fruit in it the others lacked, well it was as close to the same rations as everyone as the men could be forced to give. They were getting sneaky about trying to treat her as a god.
Daisy pointedly ignored the fruit in her bowl, and simply ate it without comment. It wasn't worth chastising anyone over. She was C3PO with the ewoks...wasn't that bizarre. Only her ewoks were actual people who instead of adorable little bear creatures were citizens of a medieval hellscape. So there was that. "Thatcher, when you're done if you'd fetch Joran and Tallman."
"I ken do it right now if ya want Holiness." Thatcher offered eagerly, ready to leap to his feet.
She shook her head. "There's time for you to finish your breakfast." Daisy nearly groaned as a baby started screaming. It'd been crying off and on all night. She was fairly sure half the camp was sick of it. She saw the pinched looks on men's faces. That was not going to go well.
Daisy stood up, setting aside her food and strode straight for the mother holding the screaming child. She noticed the mother was young, likely her first kid and clearly panicked and exhausted as she tried to calm the kid. "May I?"
The woman's face went horribly pale, reflexively holding her kid closer to her chest. She shook slightly, the screams of the baby getting louder somehow. And then hesitantly she held out her baby.
Daisy scooped the baby with easy motion. Foster care and the orphanage had given her enough experience to help with a baby. And there was nothing she could do besides not harm the baby to calm the woman's fears. And she was exhausted enough to not bother with the slower route. So she just cradled the baby. A gentle hand on it's back and she felt for any injuries with it's vibrations. A quick check showed that it's cloth diaper was empty.
She gently moved with the kid. The baby was cold, the blankets couldn't possibly be enough for the tiny thing. Which was easily fixed. Daisy warmed the air around the baby as she pulled her own cloak off and bundled the kid with practiced motions. Then cocooned in warmth, in secure arms the baby finally stopped crying. Daisy looked at the mother who was staring wide eyed at her. "What's its name?"
"I haven't named him yet ya' Holiness." The woman gave a curtsy.
Daisy rocked slightly, soothing the baby to sleep. "Well he was cold, he's too little to stay warm on his own. I'll keep him so you have a chance to eat and prepare for the day. When you're done, come to the fire and retrieve him." She turned and walked back to the fire. Sitting back down she picked up her bowl and continued eating, this time with a tiny baby cradled in the crook of her arm.
"Do you require a new cloak ya' Holiness?" Thatcher asked carefully.
She sighed. "Yeah, I don't think any of us want to be kept up all night again if this little guy isn't warm enough."
"As ya say." Thatcher bowed his head, and then climbed to his feet leaving her behind and he went to find said cloak, and probably the men she'd requested he find earlier.
She'd just finished her breakfast when Thatcher returned with a cloak in his arms, and Joran and Tallman behind him. "Ah, good. There's been a change in plans."
"Your Holiness?" Joran asked carefully as he took the seat across from her.
Daisy set her bowl aside. "I spoke with Lady Stark last night."
The men stared at her in slight confusion but none of them interrupted her.
She pulled out the letter she'd taken with her, as well as the map. "We'll need to send a party down the King's road to meet with a party of Freys. I was thinking you would be suited to such a thing, Joran?"
Daisy passed the baby back to it's mother. "If you don't have what you need to keep him warm just ask."
"Your Holiness." The woman clutched her child to her as she curtsied deeply. Her eyes flicked up to about her mouth before back down.
Daisy sighed. "Did you want to ask something?"
"Is there a name that would please you? For him." The woman looked like it'd cost her a lot to risk asking it.
She blinked, huh. Well. "You want me to name your kid?"
The woman nodded, seeming to flinch back at her own daring in asking.
Daisy reached out and touched the little baby's cheek. "Philip is a good name, if you want it."
"Thank you, ya' Holiness."
Chapter 5Notes:Sup! I've had a great week, but back to the daily grind and all that. Still the wedding was lovely, I almost cried during the ceremony, the Mrs was lovely and we enjoyed doing absolutely nothing for a week afterwards. Like naps are lovely, daily naps are magic.
Chapter TextGreatjon Umber was a shell of himself. He knew that, and his rage at his importance felt like it would swallow him. The chains holding his arms together bit into his wrists and ankles. The gag in his mouth was stale and horrible. If he could, he'd knock the head off every one of these weasels, he'd do it even if it was the last thing he did. But then his rage would leave him hollow, afterall it could only feed a man through so much humiliation and misery. Useless rage. He knew he was riding to his death.
But finally good northern air filled his lungs. His fate awaiting for him under those traitorous Bolton sons of bitches may be horrific, but his death would be in the North. A bad death, but not a wasting death in a Frey dungeon. So he let his eyes search out the northern fields for what would be the last time.
As they crested a hill a party of men with Bolton banners on horseback waiting for them. The idiot boy Steffon Frey. The gods knew which branch the green boy was from. Greatjon would have spat at the head of their party. But he couldn't. Instead the boy spoke. "It would seem Lord Bolton has sent us an escort." The boy kicked his heels in, the Frey party increasing in speed as they moved to meet the other men.
The Bolton party came to a halt. One of the riders pulled his helmet off of his head. Another green boy. But that was all that was left in the Riverlands and the North. Broken old men and green boys, all the rest dead. "I carry a letter for the head of the party come from the Twins."
"I'll take it." Steffon Frey accepted the letter sealed with the pink wax of House Bolton. He broke the seal and read it. Idiot boy's brow furrowed. "You're to escort us the rest of the way then?"
"Aye." The leader of the Bolton party agreed.
Steffon gave a nod, and stuffed the letter into his halberd.
The Greatjon felt a prickling of concern as he realized the Bolton men had the horse he was chained to bracketed. He realized a few seconds before it happened what was going to happen. Not that he could have warned the Freys even if he'd wanted to. He didn't want to.
The leader of the Bolton men drew a dagger and plunged it into the Frey man next to him. It was fast. The Boltons used daggers and surprise to slaughter the Frey men. There were cries and screams as Freys died. They didn't have time to draw swords, the knives of the Bolton men faster. The Freys were dead before they had a chance to fight back.
The leader of the Boltons wiped his dagger off before sheathing it. "Loot the bodies, secure the horses. Cut Lord Umber free. We continue as soon as possible."
He wheeled around to face the Greatjon. "Lord Umber, I am here on behalf of Lady Stark. I hold a letter from her own hand and seal. My men and I will safely escort you to Winterfell."
One of the men cut the gag, and pulled it out of his mouth. The Greatjon snarled. "And why should I listen to anything you have to say boy?"
"My name is Joran Fletcher, I am sworn to House Stark." The man held out a sealed letter bearing the seal of House Stark. "I apologize for the deception, but it was required to ensure your safety M'Lord." His spine straightened.
The Greatjon spat on the ground as he felt his legs being unhooked from the saddle. He frowned as he looked at the man. "Lady Stark is married to the Bastard."
"Lady Stark made herself a widow." Joran held out the letter. "House Bolton is no more."
He threw his head back and gave a great roaring laugh. Snorting with it he grabbed the letter. It would seem he was going home.
////
Daisy smiled slightly. It'd been an accident. But now she could hardly walk three steps without one of the kids in the loot train attaching themself to her. She raised her arm, a small girl hopping up and grabbing Daisy's arm and swinging happily.
"Your Holiness." Wilbur Thatcher nearly tripped over himself as he followed. "I've had an idea for your sidgel. If ya want one."
Daisy sighed, it was hilarious to hear the poor men trying to speak more properly and inevitably falling to their slang. Not that she'd mention she noticed it. "What's the idea?" Well she needed to create a cult. A symbol was probably important. She swung the girl hanging off her arm and up onto her back into a piggy back.
Thatcher showed the image someone had drawn. It was...a leaf. "Whaddya think?"
"It's a weirwood leaf?" She checked.
He nodded eagerly. "Of course."
"I won't always be here." Daisy hated this part, diplomacy sucked. It was Coulson's thing. "And not going to have you guys burning sinners alive like those crazy red priest people."
Thatcher frowned. "We could record your words?"
"That's…" Oh god she was going to end up with a bible written about her. That was horrifying. "I was thinking a direwolf."
Thatcher's mouth opened and then shut. "For Lady Stark?"
"Is that not appropriate?" Daisy was exhausted by the just...differences in culture. The aliens in the future had made more sense.
He pulled back the idea of a sidgel. "I'll bring a new drawing later." Thatcher seemed to hesitate for a second before continuing. "I'm sure Lady Stark will be very honored."
"Well that's a relief." She felt a change in the carts. "That'll be another cart stuck in a hole."
Thatcher bowed. "Your Holiness."
Daisy strode to the latest traveling issue. Her powers were shockingly useful at getting carts out of mud. The little girl on her back giggled at the movement. Daisy smiled, well hopefully they would make it to Witerfell today. She really needed a bath.
////
Sansa desperately needed a proper stewart. She accepted the list of numbers Tallman had written up for her. His handwriting was somehow worse than Daisy's...and Daisy used a quill like she'd never seen one before. Which she possibly hadn't. "This is all the farmland that is being cultivated?"
He cringed at the disbelief in her tone. "With the levees raised it's what they could do."
"This isn't enough." She wasn't a student of agriculture, but she was of the North and she knew these numbers were horribly off. "Find someone with farming experience and have a plan drawn up to at least triple this planting. Winter Is Coming and we need more food than this."
Tallman cleared his throat. "I can do that. But there aren't enough men to plant that much."
"Write up the options and how many men would be needed. The smaller but feasible increases. If we avoid the coming war the men may be spared for it." Sansa didn't add that if there wasn't food for the men to eat it wouldn't matter how many men she had in an army. The war had to wait, trade and the current crop were their only hope for survival.
He gave a dip of his head. "I'll take care of it M'lady."
Sansa continued her walk towards the top of the walls. Her attention fell on her faithful sworn sword just behind her. "The status of the men?"
"They're tired My Lady." Brienne replied.
Sansa hated to ask what she had to. "How much longer can they last before we have more men?"
"If the scout spoke true and the party approaching is Ser Daisy's, the men will be fine." Brienne paused. "I do not know if we could defend against an attack for long."
Sansa came up above the gate and looked out over the fields towards the King's Road. And she could see what the men had reported. A trail of tiny black figures. She could see carts, a lot of carts. "What do you think?"
"It would seem her Holiness has returned." Brienne sounded relieved. "There's not enough men in front of the baggage for it to be an army."
Her shoulders softened. "Have them open the cellar doors, and open the lower floors of the Broken Tower. We'll need to get as much of the loot unloaded as we can before the sun sets."
"I'll see to it, My Lady." Brienne waved down a guard to send him off on the errand.
Sansa ignored the voices and focused on the approaching loot train. It was an answer to their problems. Many of them, and it meant more men, more supplies. Winterfell would be secure. She would be able to act.
Sansa was almost dizzy with relief and a thrum of victory as the carts and men and women poured into Winterfell. The men all stopped to swear fealty to her before moving off to continue with the work of unloading. It wasn't for the oaths she'd stayed in the courtyard instead of inside the halls making decisions on where things would go. The eighth cart of chests was rolling in when she saw Daisy Jonson riding in through the gate.
The god had a small child in front of her in the saddle, and another excitedly clinging to her back. She was laughing at something the kid hanging onto her back was saying. Her eyes caught Sansa and then she easily helped the kids down before dismounting herself. The god ruffled the children's hair before walking towards her with a wide grin.
"Lady Stark." She grinned and then bowed, though she did not wait for permission to straighten again. Not that she needed permission. "The Dreadfort is destroyed, its halls looted, its men sent to the Wall or brought back in your name."
Sansa felt the entire yard fall silent. That wasn't...that wasn't what was supposed to happen. A god doesn't bow to a man. And the final destruction of her enemies in her name? It was a gesture of fealty by a god that owed none to her. "You are most welcome in Winterfell. I trust you are unharmed from your efforts?" Sansa wasn't even sure what else to say. What was there to say? There wasn't protocol for a god acting like a minor sworn knight in your service.
"Totally fine." Daisy laughed, stepping forward. "And I saw to the matter we discussed."
Sansa was terrified she'd missed something. Because this did not make sense. But King's Landing had taught her to carry on. "Then I am in your debt."
"Nice call on the fenced areas...are they called paddocks?" Daisy looked at her curiously.
Sansa had a brief thought that maybe the god hadn't known what her actions meant? But that was ridiculous...probably. "Paddocks are for horses, pens for livestock." She noticed a look on the god's face. "The unloading is well in hand. Your companion Fitz is in the same room."
"I...thank you." Daisy gave her a quick nod, and then vanished into the crowd towards the Maester's chambers.
Sansa spoke slowly. "Brienne, fetch Podrick." She waved her temporary stewart over. "Tallman, what's the progress?"
"If the men don't sleep tonight, we can get it inside our walls." Tallman straightened trying to match her height. He really wasn't particularly tall despite the name.
She accepted that, good. "Keep up the work, ensure the men know they will be rewarded for their labor." Sansa considered the stores of what she had, and the loot of the Dreadfort. "Tomorrow I'll order the finest ales and wines from Roose's stores opened and slaughter four bulls for a modest feast."
"The men'll love that." He bowed his head slightly, a beaming grin on his face. "I'll ensure the boys know, M'Lady."
Sansa's lips twitched up. Tallman might not be a good steward, but he'd been showing some loyalty so he'd make a decent member of the household. "Ensure any letters from the Dreadfort are brought straight to my solar."
"Aye, M'Lady." Tallman scurried away to do as bid.
She ignored the curious looks from the men and made her way back inside the great hall. On the high table accounts and reports of what was being done were laid out as she'd instructed earlier. It was time to work. Because this would be the foundation of her hold on power.
Sansa set her quill aside, as she spotted Porick approaching her. "Podrick."
"My Lady." He bowed before stepping closer. "You sent for me?"
She waved him forward. "I need you to look into something, discreetly."
"Of course My Lady. I know how to keep my mouth shut if need be." He folded his hands in front of him as he waited for her to speak.
Sansa was grateful for Pod. "Her Holiness, I need to know why she has decided to show fealty towards me." Because a god showing fealty towards her was insane. There had to be a reason for it, if it'd just been words she'd have assumed the god had misspoken. But Daisy had bowed. Something was happening and she needed to know what.
////
Daisy sat on the bed besides Fitz. She held his hand as she reassured herself that he was still alive. His heart beat was strong and there, he breathed for himself. Daisy felt settled knowing he was alive. It was sickenly similar to when he'd been in a coma after Ward. She squeezed his hand. "You better wake up."
She sighed. "Jemma would be better at this than me. And you'd get a kick out of it, they think I'm a god. Which is ridiculous. Maybe that's why you're napping, avoiding having to build a portal in the dark ages. Very sneaky." Daisy trailed off. "This sucks."
Did it make her a terrible person that she felt unease at the thought of him waking? This wasn't the same Fitz who cut the chip out of her neck. He wasn't the one who betrayed her. But he was still the one who made the Framework, and who was a few months away from doing those things. Time travel fucked everything up. He was the person on the team she had trusted the most. And now she was afraid of him.
It hadn't seemed important how she felt about the whole thing when it'd just been her and Jemma on their search to find and save him. But now...now it was just Fitz and her. Just them in a medieval hellscape that was cold as hell where the locals thought she was a god. They would need each other. And how could she even feel hurt when the Fitz who'd hurt her was dead? It wasn't fair to him.
Daisy placed a hand on his chest, feeling the vibrations of his body. The reassurance he was real and alive. "You need to wake up. I can't do this without you."
She wasn't sure how long she'd been there before she heard the door open. Daisy had absently felt their approach she realized. Which wasn't that weird. "Yes?"
There was a startled sound. "Apologies your Holiness." It was the Maester Wolkan. "I thought you might wish to eat with the men. They'll be unloading until late in the day on the morrow. But supper is ready if you wish to join them in eating. Or it can be fetched for you if you wish."
"I'll come help with the work." Daisy didn't look away from her friend. God, he was the closest she had to a brother. "Do you think he'll wake?"
"The danger's passed. But what his mind will be like once he wakes I cannot say." Wolkan replied.
Daisy bit at her lower lip. If Fitz's damage from Ward worsened…. "He's strong, he'll recover."
"I'm sure you know better than I." Wolkan approached, holding a bowl of broth. "Here, if you help me get his head up we can get some food into him."
She reached forward and helped tilt lift him, so another pillow could be shoved behind his head. It was a familiar routine, one she'd aided in four times daily before she'd left. "I've got it. You must have other things to be worrying about."
"Not at the moment." Wolkan carefully began the process of feeding the broth to Fitz, then massaging his throat so that he'd swallow. "My chief patients are small folk with minor injuries, a few broken bones, nothing of concern, and a pregnant prisoner."
Daisy considered that. "What do you think will happen when the baby is born?"
"House Stark is renowned for their honor. If she says she won't harm the child, it's the best hope it has." Wolkan carefully forced more of the broth into Fitz's mouth.
She remembered what options had been given. "Is it fair?"
"No." Wolkan pulled back. "But any other Lord would have stabbed the child in its mother's womb to ensure its death. It's what the Boltons did to Lady Stark's good sister and wife of her brother."
Daisy didn't like this world. She really, really didn't. But she didn't get to choose the world she and Fitz were stranded in. So she continued to help feed Fitz.
Daisy smiled as she ate the warm soup that had been made for the men. She was seated on a barrel unloaded from one of the carts. One of the men had started singing, and there was a general vibe of cheer as everyone crowded around the fires in the courtyard as they ate before continuing with their work. Incidentally Daisy was getting a much better sense of how strong she was now.
"Your Holiness." A boy with dark hair bowed. "I've got fresh bread if you would like some."
She paused. "Your accent is different from the others here?"
"Aye, your Holiness." He carefully offered the bread which she accepted a roll from the basket. "I'm from the Westerlands. I'm squire to the Lady Brienne of Tarth."
Daisy smiled at the mention of the lady knight. She was clearly fabulous after all. "Good for you. What's your name?"
"Podrick Payne, your Holiness." Podrick dipped his head slightly, not that he ever really seemed to raise it fully.
She waved to the spot on a crate next to her. "You can join me if you like, though only if you stop with the 'Holiness' stuff for a while."
"As you wish, but what should I call you?" He looked at her with soft but serious eyes.
Daisy raised a brow, if he was Brienne's squire he absolutely knew she'd asked to be called 'Ser' if they had to use a title for her. Not that anyone, including Sansa had apparently listened to that really. "Just Daisy is fine, but Johnson or Ser are fine too."
"As you wish Ser Jonson." He had the slightest bit of amusement to him.
She laughed, cheeky asshole. "So please tell me there are places in this world that aren't miserably cold."
"The further south the warmer the weather is." Podrick settled awkwardly on the crate. "In Dorne it is a desert, the weather is as hot as their food. It is the southernmost kingdom in Westeros."
Daisy snorted. "I'm not sure I'd have done much better there. So the Westerlands, what are they like?" She ate quietly prodding the poor boy into telling her more about the continent. It was better than anything she could read in a book.
He paused in the middle of a story about his last master. Blushing violently as he apparently realized he'd just mentioned his former Lord frequented brothels. "Sorry Ser, I didn't mean to mention that."
"I'd be shocked if you didn't have brothels and prostitutes here. Oldest profession and all that." She took an amused bite of her soup. "You're not going to offend me."
Podrick's ears were still pink. "I mean...isn't it a sin?"
"Ah, yeah I don't care about the whole 'sin' thing." Daisy wiggled her hand. Which fuck, slight positive, the nuns from the orphange would hate everything about this. "I mean common decency and all. Pay the person for their service and don't be a dick about it. But I can say with some certainty that the gods or devils or whatever that deal with 'sinners' don't care about consensual sex."
He blinked, his voice came out at a mumble. "Probably a good thing for me then." He shifted slightly. "Does that mean you're not a god of maidens and children then?"
Daisy paused. "Ah, no. Very much not that." She noticed everyone in the general vicinity was listening intently to her words. "I was stolen from my parents and raised in a human orphanage when I was a baby. I'm just used to helping with the younger kids. But I don't have any kids of my own, or plans of having one. And I'm definitely not a maid."
"You were raised with humans?" He was looking at her in surprise.
She nodded. "Yup."
Podrick spoke carefully, like he was afraid of her reaction to his next question. "Is that why you were chosen to help us?"
"Probably." Daisy was not going to point out, exploding Chronicom portal device as a random accident not some weird divine intervention. And the vibrations around the white trees were weird, there might be something to her and Fitz coming out in a damn tree. "The old gods, what do you know of them? Everyone says I must be one. But I'm not familiar with this world and names tend to change between worlds."
He straightened slightly. "I'm from the south, where we worship the Seven. But Lord Lannister made sure I knew about the different realms. The old gods are the gods of the First Men."
One of the former Bolton men spoke up then. "They were the gods of the Children of the Forest before men ever came to these shores." His voice filled with the tone of a storyteller. "The Children..."
Daisy was fascinated by the stories of the men. Their old gods certainly weren't any type of 'god' she'd run into. But assured her that she needed to not be seen as one. Considering the trees and her general experience with weird old mythology there was likely some basis in fact to these stories. Fact she'd like to not insult and piss off.
She lifted another crate from one of the carts as the stories continued. It was hard work, but the men had started taking turns telling tales as they worked in the dark and cold. "Wait, arrows made from the weirwood trees are magic?"
"Legend has it Brandon Snow meant to kill Aegon Targaryen's dragons with arrows made of the weirwood trees." One of the men replied.
Someone else huffed. "That was over three hundred years ago, magic has faded from this world since the dragons died."
She wiped sweat from her forehead as the men broke out into a fairly good natured debate on how real magic was in their world. Stories of witches and strange happenings they'd all heard or seen being brought up. Daisy was about to ask about what on earth a 'stone witch' was when one of the pages came skidding out into the yard.
The boy was panting, but bowed as best he could. "Holiness, your companion. He woke up."
Chapter 6Notes:Sup! Thank you for all the awesome comments! I really appreciate it and love talking with you guys. And a shout out to my wonderful beta ur2close! Seriously, my dyslexic self has a rough time with grammar.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextSansa rushed in a swirl of skirts for the Maester's rooms. Her exhaustion fell from her as she hurried along the halls of her forebears to where the god's companion had woken. If she still prayed in truth she would have prayed for this man's recovery. His survival was what tied a god to her halls, to her cause. And if he woke but was not the same she could not risk the god's rage without an attempt to calm it.
She ignored the sound of Brienne's armor as she followed her. Instead she focused on the hallways ahead of her. Her footfalls echoed in the stone halls. And then she could see the light spilling out of the room set aside for patients of the Maester that needed serious care. She slowed her steps, carefully breathing so as not to pant, but her lungs burned all the same as she forced herself not to gasp. Her heart hammered as she took the last few paces with her shoulders back, and chin tipped upwards.
Sansa wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't what she found inside. It was clear the man couldn't have been awake long. He was upright, and whereas she had been able to control her panicked breathing he had not. His whole body shook as he panicked, air wheezing in and out of him. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, fingers trembling nearly violently. But it wasn't the MMaester trying to calm him. In fact Maester Wolkan was standing awkwardly to one side with a calming draught, but made no move to administer it.
Straddling the man was Daisy. She had pressed their foreheads together, one of her hands gripping the back of his neck. Her other hand had caught one of his and pressed it to her chest. She was taking careful, deep breaths, clearly intending to aid him in finding his own air. His free hand was scrabbling uselessly at her shoulder as he tried to get words out but none came.
"You're safe, I promise you're safe." Daisy's voice held authority and certainty to it as she spoke. It was firm, but not meant to travel. "Breathe. Come on, just follow me."
He was panicked but he clearly was trying to follow her instructions. And his breathing did start to slow. But not for long. He finally managed to get a solid grip on the fabric of her outer tunic, and the air out to get a single word out. "J-J-Jemma!?" He put so much of himself in that one word. It felt wrenched from his soul.
"Is alive and with friends." Daisy forced him to look into her eyes. "I promise, I couldn't get to both of you so I threw her to Enoch and grabbed you."
He seemed to nod against her, eyes closing. His breathing slowing painfully as he let his head rest against hers once more. "Right…...good…...that's….good."
"She's safe. I promise she's safe." Daisy murmured clearly, softening as his panic lost its terrified edge. "She's with Piper, Davis and Enoch. They'll protect her, though she can be plenty terrifying when she wants to be."
He nodded against her. And then they stayed like that as his breathing finally slowed to merely a slightly louder wheeze than typical. It had an air of intimacy to it as they essentially held onto each other like drowning men holding to a raft.
Sansa felt a pang at this, it wasn't something she should be seeing. With that thought she waved Brienne out of the doorway, and closed it behind her, leaving herself, Wolkan, the god and her companion as the only ones in the room. It also reassured her. For all else this god might be, she loved this human man. What sort of love it was didn't matter, only that she was clearly, truly and deeply capable of it.
The man's voice croaked as he spoke, a certain halting to his words that felt...unnatural. "What-what happened."
"Your stupid idea worked." Daisy's voice was soft. "You and Enoch found Jemma and I, you helped us and we did it. We changed fate and time itself. Which your theory time couldn't be changed because it was predetermined, only mostly not a thing." Her lips twitched up.
He frowned. "But how-how...I don't remember."
"You died." Daisy's grip on him tightened. "But it was a paradox. We were in the new timeline, but the you that died was from later. So we had to rescue you before you died again."
Sansa's eyes widened. She didn't understand, but she understood enough to know that what was being spoken of was great and terrible and likely beyond her comprehension.
Fitz shook his head, his hand leaving her shoulder to run through his hair. "But, uh….para-paradox."
"Exactly. If it wasn't for that we wouldn't have tried. We all know the cost of truly bringing the dead back. But this you hasn't died yet. And with the time change finding you was a bit of a road trip. Do you know how many star systems we had to travel to? You were one hard man to find."
He pulled back, her grip on him lessening. He blinked, seeming to realize where he was. His mouth opened but what came out was words stuck in his throat.
Daisy spoke softly, gripping one of his hands. "You've been unconscious since we arrived. Give it some time." She gave a self deprecating smile though. "We're in a castle if you can believe it. I haven't a clue where exactly we are, what realm or world this is. Figured once you're feeling better you can figure it out. I've made a deal with the local Lady here. We're safe till you're well enough to find a way to get us home."
"Right, I-I-I can d-d-do that." It was clear now that he had a stutter. Whether it was new or old was less clear.
Sansa glanced at Maester Wolkan. He seemed to take it as his cue. He shuffled forward, clearing his throat. "If I may, your Holiness?"
Daisy slid off of Fitz's lap with ease, though she settled on the bed beside him. "Please."
Fitz looked confused, his head whipping around towards Daisy.
"It's a bit like the Asgardians and the Vikings. They think I'm a god, but this is Wolkan, he's kind of a doctor." Daisy explained carefully.
He snorted at that, though he settled. "O-of course."
Wolkan carefully touched Fitz's wrist. "What do you feel?"
Sansa remained silent, she likely shouldn't be here. But she hadn't been asked to leave either. So she watched with a growing sense of relief as Maester Wolkan found the man Fitz to be weakened, but healthy. Her eyes caught Daisy's. Daisy looked so painfully grateful as she mouthed two words towards her. "Thank you."
////
Fitz felt fairly numb as he stared at Daisy. "Well t-that's a l-lot." His tongue felt more like his own after food and whilelistening to her explain what had happened in the last year and a half while sipping at what was hot watered down wine.
"No kidding, and this place is weird. I'm really hoping we just need to make a beacon so someone can come pick us up. Cause like frozen medieval hellscape." Daisy nodded in relief at not being alone.
He sipped his wine, falling on his ass when he'd tried to stand up, had at least convinced him to start on the issues at hand tomorrow, not tonight. "No electricity?" He frowned. "Do they even h-h-have clo-clo-clocks?"
"They still call stuff things like 'hour of the wolf' so I'm going to assume no. Also haven't seen one." Daisy wiggled her fingers. "I haven't gone nearly two months without touching a computer since I was five."
Fitz kind of wanted to cry. "Do they at least have wheels?"
"They have wheels." She elbowed him gently while rolling her eyes. "Dark ages, not cave people."
He hated asking it. "You're pos-positive, just us went through the portal?"
"I mean if you can call a portal device exploding a portal." Daisy replied voice thick with sarcasm. "But yeah, I'd have felt it if anyone else was in the weird singing tree."
Fitz really hated magic, it broke all the rules and was just the worst. "D-d-do you think their 'old gods' are real?"
"I mean probably sorta? I mean as real as Thor or blue angels turned out to be for us." Daisy made a sorta gesture with her hand before curling her fingers back around her warm mug of the wine.
He nodded. "So real enough we d-don't w-want to lie."
"Yup. Which I may have gone a bit overboard with the powers. I'm still figuring out what I can do even. Jemma was very creative when we stuck on the zephyr. Also the internal heating system broke and going back to earth early wouldn't have stopped us from turning a bit blue."
Fitz flushed. "Jemma and I are really married?"
"I was the maid of honor so you better believe it. There was crying." She smiled and it was of the mischievous variety. "I'll help you so you can propose first this time."
"F-f-fir-first? What do you mean first?" He spluttered, he'd been planning on asking Jemma for over a year now.
Fitz hated being weak, he hated having to recover. But infuriatingly he knew exactly how important and unavoidable it was. So he stayed in the weirdly lumpy bed with fur blankets. He had been awarded a wooden table of sorts to rest over his lap, as well as a quill, ink and paper. First things first he was going to need electricity. And a freezing country wouldn't look fondly on burning fuel for it. Not in the quantity he would need. So a bicycle electric generator it would be. Maybe some form of hydro-damn technology to store the energy? Thermodynamic cycles were a classic and promising option for storing excess power.
"Fuck." He stared at his hand. It was shaking slightly. Not a lot, but enough to make writing with a quill miserable. Quills….this was impossible. And that wasn't even taking into account the readings he was going to have to invent machinery to find just to establish where they were. He ran a hand through his hair.
Daisy set another bowl of hot broth on the bed table. "We have time and you just woke up."
"Jemma could be in danger! It's been too long already." He bit out.
She sighed, leaning against the wall by the fire. "She has a spaceship, a Chronicom, and two highly skilled agents. And because she's with the ship, SHIELD will know where to look for her if she fails to check in. After a year of flying through space looking for you, she isn't going to give up just because we're stuck here for a year."
"A year! We don't have a y-year?!" How the hell was she so calm about this?
Daisy rolled her eyes. "We're in the dark ages. You're a genius not a magician. And there's magic ice zombies I promised to help kill in exchange for the equipment you're going to be getting from them. And I doubt the army of magic ice zombies is the sort of enemy that dies in one confrontation."
"We n-n-need to get back to the team." He held back from pushing the point though.
She just stared at him. "From what threat? I mean space gangsters and rogue Chronicoms are the only real threats at the moment. It's not like the world is due for another apocalypse that I'm aware of. And even if it is, we're not getting back in time to help."
"How can you be...sat-satisfied with that?" His voice was snappish and he knew it.
Daisy pushed off the wall. "The last seven weeks desperatly waiting for you to wake up were an object lesson in how getting out of here is going to take time." She pulled on the heavy fur lined cloak she'd ripped off when she'd first arrived. "In the meantime, there's disgustingly heavy stuff to unload and I have minor super strength now. So I'm going to go help with that. And you need to rest." Her face softened. "I'll check on you around dawn."
"I...thanks." Fitz's eyes flicked back to his paper. He had work to do, he didn't have time to worry about whatever...well the fact he'd clearly stuck his foot in his mouth again.
She sighed. "I'm glad you're awake Fitz."
He didn't look up as she left the room.
////
Jon Snow dismounted his horse and strode through the Glover military encampment. Men didn't try to stop him, but there was alarm at the sight of Wildlings and knights of the Stormlands under a Stark banner. It was a small miracle he'd been allowed to approach. He spotted the Lord of Deepwood Motte. "Lord Glover."
Lord Glover looked him up and down. "You risk much bastard. The Boltons will come down on both our heads for this."
"Then it's a good thing the Boltons are dead." Jon replied.
Glover stared at him. "You expect me to believe those rumors?"
"I will swear to their truth." Jon was the son of Eddard Stark. His word was as good as could be had. "I was sent by my sister, Lady of Winterfell to assist with your Ironborn problem."
The Lord stared at him. "Lady Sansa married a Bolton."
"And she stabbed a Bolton." Jon replied without pause.
Glover let out a deep laugh. "Good for her. Fucker deserved it." He looked Jon up and down. "Leading your sister's armies then?"
"Aye, and we heard you could use one." Jon was just relieved the matter of who that army consisted of hadn't been brought up.
Glover waved him into the command tent. "Well we've worn the fuckers down, but getting through the gates is going to cost lives. The men on the ram will be sitting ducks."
"I have a giant." Jon replied as he entered the tent. His eyes immediately found the map with markers of troop positions and the Deepwood's defences. "The gate won't be a problem."
Glover made a pleased sound in the back of his throat. "Your giant have armor?"
"No, I've never seen a giant with armor." It was….how had that never occurred to him. None of the freefolk really had true armor. Oh, they had protection, but nothing like the steel and iron of the Seven Kingdoms. It was one of the reasons the Night's Watch had survived fighting them for so long.
Glover flicked his fingers, summoning one of his men. "We can find something for your giant. The defenders in my castle will make taking it costly, once we've taken the gates down. The Ironborn have had time to prepare themselves." His voice turned bitter with rage at the thought of invaders in his home.
"I've got wargs as well." Jon had found not being in charge had given him time to remember silly strategies he'd thought of with Robb as a boy. And then he'd promptly realized maybe they weren't so silly afterall. "We will have your home back for you by the morrow. You have my word."
Glover had a strange look, but laughed and slapped his shoulder. "Well, let's get on with it then. I aim to gut some Ironborn."
////
Daisy felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she helped move crates. Fitz was awake, he hadn't seemed...damaged. His speech more disjointed than usual, but it'd improved the longer he'd been awake. And if he was damaged, they'd deal with it. She set a crate into what she was fairly sure was the medieval equivalent into a wheelbarrow. Still wild to her she could lift something that heavy.
"Your Holiness, you know you don't have to help with this?" Hogg said carefully, sweat was streaming down his face.
She knew she was as sweaty as him. Her cloak long since discarded. "I know." She made sure her voice was clear and carried. "But how can I ask things of people I'm not willing to do myself? Besides I'm capable of helping, and if I wasn't I'd just be bored." Daisy smiled at the awed expression on his face. "I'm not Lady Stark who knows where all this goes and is running this place."
"But your companion awoke?" Hogg stared at her curiously.
Daisy nodded, a part of her aware of exactly where in this castle he was. "He doesn't need me to sleep. Or avoid sleeping on principle and try and figure out how to use a quill instead."
"He can't write?" Hogg made a sound of surprise.
She outright snorted. "He can write, it's your quills. They aren't what we use to write with where we're from. It's different." Daisy was going to have to figure out the whole quill thing soon. As it was her writing was a barely legible, blotty scrawl at the moment. Not that her handwriting had ever been more than a cramped scrawl, but still. The ink splatter was a problem. "So you're stuck with me helping."
"We'll get this done in no time for sure then!" Hogg grinned as he went back heaving a crate full of wine bottles out of one of the carts.
Daisy patted him on the back. "So why is this wine in bottles instead of barrels like the rest of it? I've been wondering."
Daisy hummed along happily as the men sang as they all worked. A few of the boys had good voices and were badgered with requests for particular favorites. By the time the sky had begun to lighten the men had seemed to relax enough for some more humorous tavern songs to come out.
She'd laughed outright at the one about a man who thought he'd charmed a lady only to find it'd been a donkey the entire time, her flowing hair its mane. At that it'd seemed to finally have gotten through their heads, after a month of effort, that she wasn't going to smite anyone for something stupid. And so as the sky brightened so did the men.
"Your Holiness!" One of the boys called. "Do you know any songs?"
Daisy ran through the list of music she had learned for team karaoke on the bus. It'd have to be something without too many modern terms. But she knew a few country songs thanks to Hunter. Besides, she'd gone undercover as a pop star wannabe for Coulson, amazing she might not be but she could certainly carry a tune. "Sure, not sure how similar any of them are to yours. But I can sing if you want me to."
"If ya would." The boy replied eagerly, his cheeks a slight pink.
She figured she couldn't go too wrong with the classics. So Jolene it was. Daisy took a breath and began to sing. By the third chorus the men joined in. It was freeing to just sing while working. It was…horrifying that working an all nighter, sweating in a frozen medieval hellscape as the sun rose, singing her heart out about a woman named Jolene stealing her man, while surrounded by men who believed that she was a god, was the least stressed she'd been in...years. Jesus Christ, that was a depressing thought. So she didn't think about it, and just grinned as she sang.
Daisy took a sip of the wine in the animal skin, which was wild, as she leaned against the wall. The last of the truly heavy cargo was out and one of the boys was trying, terribly, to flirt with her by telling her everything he knew about the old ruling family of Westeros. Only she paused as a particular fact dawned on her. "Wait, the Targaryens married siblings? Well damn, that'd explain the insanity."
"Huh?" Jessar looked at her in confusion. "Wha's that got to do with it?"
Daisy's nose wrinkled. "When people are too closely related it messes up the kids. Sanity stuff, disease, physical deformities. I mean Fitz or Jemma would be able to tell you why better, but it's not good dude. Super not good. Not to mention gross."
"Really?" The kid was staring at her in surprise.
She laughed. "Yes really. It happens with animals too, you know?"
"That is true." The kid, who'd sworn he was seventeen and definitely been lying about that, replied. "My Da had a brother who didn't breed his goats with anybody else's and every year the kids got weirder. One time, one of the kids was born with no eyes or mouth, just nostrils. Or another one was born with its insides outside and its outsides inside."
Daisy shivered at the thought of that. "Well that's disturbing. But yeah, that sounds like an inbreeding issue."
"Holiness." One of the men who'd been at Winterfell..Davith maybe? bowed as he approached. "Lady Stark requests your presence."
She pushed off the wall, screwing the top back on the wine skin, still weird those things were real and not just in Jemma's old historical movies. "Is she still in the great hall?"
"Yes your Holiness." He responded with a dip of his head in respect.
Daisy tossed the wine skin to Jessar. "Kid, I can tell when you're lying about your age." Her lips twitched up at the frozen expression on his face. "But good try." She walked past him towards the great hall. It was funny, the men and women respectfully moved out of her way. But there were smiles and warmth there now. It wasn't fear and terror. She'd at least managed that fine. Not completely, she doubted they'd ever properly forget the level of power she'd been showing. But they seemed to feel secure that she meant them no harm. And she'd take that. It was more than she got from the SHIELD newbies without having to break them in.
Notes:Those goat examples are ones I've seen. Like inbreeding is bad ya'll. Also baby goats are called kids.