Chapter 25Notes:Sup!
Chapter TextOsha wondered at the fact she'd made it through her morning work without being summoned to come help find Rickon. It was...oh her Little Wolf was up to something. However, if there weren't panicked men at arms and that giant blonde woman running around looking for him; he was either in the workshop of the man with the cracked mind or in the gods wood. She untied her skirt, letting it fall properly, now that she wasn't keeping it out of her way. With an amused hum she set off for the gods wood.
As she walked through the halls, she found the way the others acknowledged her different than it had been the last time she'd dwelled in these halls. The lack of chains around her ankles was something she was grateful for. It was easy enough to move without being halted, she was a member of the household now. And laundry and starting fires was good honest work that didn't wear on her bones. If they survived the coming night it would be a good life.
Her feet padded softly as she crossed the gods wood for the heart tree. She spotted her Little Wolf's curls as he sat against the tree. She folded her hands into the loose folds of her dress for warmth. No use getting her hands cold. "What are you doing out here Little Wolf?"
"Saying thanks." Rickon looked up at the red leaves. "I had a dream."
Osha stilled, she'd learned to fear how the gods had blessed the Stark boys. Or perhaps cursed them. It had been folly for Bran to leave for the Wall and the darkness that lay beyond. His dreams had whispered to him, and now he was surely gone. And Rickon here, she'd never met warg as in tune with his animal as the boy. If she hadn't of met Bran she'd have thought him the strongest warg there was. Carefully she lowered herself down beside him. "What did you see in this dream?"
"A red and white wolf coming through the gates." His smile was lopsided but genuine. "Sansa and Jon will be home soon."
Osha didn't doubt his interpretation. She knew the Starks were all wolves. And with how that pretty one Jon acted with his great white wolf, likely the lot of them were wargs. A kingly line indeed. "That is good news Little Wolf."
"Do you like it here?" He looked up at her curiously.
She made a slow hum. They were before the heart tree, lies were cursed here. "I sleep in a bed with warm furs, have a full belly, good clothes, and the work is honest."
"You didn't answer the question." Rickon's brow furrowed.
Osha touched his cheek, the last softness of childhood nearly gone. "We live in dangerous times and more dangerous times still are coming. What we like isn't what is important. Survival is."
"The pack survives." Rickon assured her, the words clearly ones he's been told enough to remember, even if she doubted he remembered why he knew it.
She patted his cheek, before dropping her hand. "Aye, you've the right of it there boy."
"I'm not little anymore." His nose wrinkled.
Her mouth twisted up into an amused smile. "Then what are you doing hiding from ya'r lessons?"
He frowned staring at the ground. "I'm not good at it."
"Learnin' to hunt took you a while." Osha watched his face scrunch up as he didn't have a good come back to that. "You're going to be a Lord when you're a man grown."
He stared at the pool in front of the tree. "I'm a wolf not a Lord."
"You can be both. All you Starks are wolves aren't ya?" She settled onto the ground. They'd be here till the wind beckoned him off. And she'd found it hard not having him near at all times.
Rickon smiled, his teeth showing. "Aye."
"Then you can learn to read and write like your blood." Osha wrapped her arms around her knees, closing her eyes and listening to the leaves rustling. The gods had led them this far, and now had led them back. So she listened, for she thought the gods likely had more awaiting them. Afterall, winter hadn't fully fallen. And it was coming.
////
Daisy sighed as they looked at Moat Cailin. "When was the last time someone like..fixed this place?"
"The Moat has been left to ruin for many years now." Mors replied, his voice deep as he sat high in his saddle.
Ser Roger Ryswell, to be named the new Lord Ryswell upon their return from this campaign, frowned deeply. His absence almost certainly to ensure House Ryswell was left leaderless for a couple of months while Sansa ensured her men were installed and prepared to twist arms to ensure the newly signed terms were followed to the letter. He spoke carefully, as he'd done since she'd lost her temper with the men. "In disrepair or not it'll be hard to take."
"Well it's a good thing I can ensure no arrows hit us and the gates turn to splinters." Daisy scratched at what she'd been informed were the withers of her horse Swiftfoot. She was getting attached to the animal that she had a feeling was hers and only hers. "Want me to just destroy the gate to see what they'll do?"
Tormund let out a snort. "That'd be a sight. Fuckers'll shit themselves in there."
Mors looked at her. "Can ya break the gate from here?"
"I can break the castle from here." Daisy replied. She's always found talking big could get people to back the fuck off. Especially if people believed it. And well...now she could walk the talk and she kinda needed them to buy the god thing. Also the sexism was getting real old. If one more person stared at her very covered up cleavage she was going to break some more noses.
The great bear of a man didn't question her ability. He was legit wearing a skinned polar bear over his shoulders. "Then let's make the fuckers piss themselves. Destroy the gate ya'r Holiness."
Daisy breathed out, raising a hand and closing her eyes. She felt the gate, the aged wood and iron. And then she closed her fist, vibrating the door like she'd shaken the mountain in Afterlife. She didn't have to look to know the wood had exploded, she felt it as it turned to splinters and twisted metal. Breathing in her eyes opened anyways. She ignored the swearing and cries of alarm from their men. "Think they'll surrender?"
"If they're smart." Mors's smile was vicious. "But best those cunts will get is the Wall."
Tormund made a disappointed sound. "My axe'll get rusty at this rate. Who wants to fight a god?"
Daisy raised a brow as she saw men running to the walls, holding their bows ready to defend. "I think they want to fight a god."
"They can't be that dumb…" Ser Roger gaped. "Without a gate they can't hope to hold their position."
Daisy stared at him. "I think hard headed stubborness is the way of you Northerns. I haven't met a one of you yet who hasn't thought challenging me was a good idea. Wasn't it your men who thought fighting me was a good idea?"
"Well." He coughed.
Mors laugh boomed. "Fair, we don't bend easy here in the North."
Tormund shifted awkwardly in the saddle. "So we fighting them or what?"
"Let's take the Moat for Lady Stark." Mors boomed. "FORM UP! TEN SILVER STAGS FOR EVERY PRISONER YA BRING ME!"
Daisy paused slightly at that, huh. The men really were taking the ice zombie threat seriously if they were that ready to add bodies to their defences. Shaking herself from the thought she gently nudged Swiftfoot forward. Time to stop some arrows and keep the casualties down.
Daisy carefully notched an arrow to the string of her bow. They'd stopped shooting at them around the fortieth arrow she'd shattered before it could get to them. Which meant she and the archers could help. It'd been nice of Mors to leave her the archers. Likely cause her followers were all better archers than swordsmen. Her fault, but useful. She didn't need to look to know the archers were following her commands. "DRAW!"
As her muscles pulled she settled the drawn bow in position. Her sight down the arrow was clear as she brought her aim up for the men along the wall. Breathing out her heart rate slowed as she adjusted her aim with the wind as the flapping sigels indicated it's direction. "LOOSE."
Her eyes followed her own arrow as it flew, arching through the air, and then embedding itself into the throat of one of the men on the wall. She lowered her bow. There weren't a lot of people on the wall. "SHOOT AT WILL." Christ shooting while yelling was awful. Also thank god for Joran knowing what the fuck she was supposed to say. Not saying 'fire' was weird as hell.
Daisy plucked another arrow and notched it, pulling her string back she found a new target, and fired. She was three arrows in when someone finally thought to try firing back again. She barely got her hand up in time to keep one of the boys from getting shot.
There was a great roar and the shield wedge charged forward and through the gates. Their shields raised above their backs, the front row holding their shields in front of them. It was a great rush, a clamor of armor and weapons. On the heels of the shield wedge was the main force of the army. She doubted there'd be any enemies left by the time they all got inside.
Lowering her bow she looked to Joran. "Turn the men around and guard the baggage." She handed him her bow, and then launched herself into the air.
The wind whistled past her as she flew to the walls of the castle. She landed with a roll on the parapets. Her head turned at the clatter to one side.
A man in the garb of a Frey man at arms dropped to his knees, weapons at his feet, hands raised. His whole form trembling.
She raised a brow. "You might wanna go sit so you don't get stabbed." Straightening she took in the walls. It wouldn't be hard to clean up the last of the men still living up here. She could already tell the battle was won. Time to keep the death toll down. Daisy stepped forward, drawing a sword as she did so.
////
Fitz had been focusing on the work of filtering the detris out of the mixture of wood ash and water. He'd been working on refining potassium and saltpeter. The work to get just miniscule amounts of base elements was ridiculous and his hopes were becoming more and more dependent on Jemma finding him. It'd take him...at least two years...at a minimum. He was brought out of his focus on sifting out the mixture to be dried by the door opening. Glancing up he frowned at the fat Lord. "Did y-you need something?" His voice was kurt.
"To ask you that." The large man chuckled, his chins jiggling slightly as he waddled into the room. He seemed to pause. "Do you have a second name Fitz? I don't believe we were ever properly introduced."
He blinked. "Uh...D-doctor Leopold J-James Fitz, l-level five agent of S-SHIELD."
"Well met then Fitz, then I in turn am Lord Wyman Manderly, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander, and knight of the Order of the Green Hand." He puffed, proud at his titles, but jovial air never leaving him.
Fitz gave a careful nod. "Right….y-you lot like y-your titles." He carefully set his strainer to the side and wiped his hands. "W-what'd you want to k-know?"
"Well what sorts of things you'll need? Of course you have enough oil for light for some time. But not that long once winter sets in properly and the dark comes."
He paused, glancing at the entire shelf of oil for his lamps...he had enough if his math was right for four months of twenty four hour constant light. "W-winter's not that long?"
"The Maesters suggest this winter will last for years, possibly even ten or more." Manderly replied in disbelief like his words made sense.
Fitz opened and then shut his mouth. He started again. "Your s-seasons last y-years!?" He dropped his hands onto his hips in sheer disbelief.
Manderly just looked confused. "I suppose some short seasons might only be a single year? But this last summer was over ten years."
"T-ten…" Fitz didn't even care about his stutter. "B-but tha-that's...what t-the…" He ran a hand through his hair. He licked his lips slightly as his eyes flicked, his mind working through the implications of that. The food stores...number of men for the zombie fighting army....heating….livestock...
Manderly frowned looking at him as if he was a spooked animal. "Good gods, are you alright man?"
"What. The. H-hell!?" Fitz stared at the man in horror.
Manderly's arms fell to his side. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Seasons d-don't act l-like that!" His hand fisted in his greasy curls. "T-they're caused by r-rotation and-and-and..." He trailed off as the realization the damn weather had to be magically altered. "F-fucking magic." They'd die from hunger, cold or zombies before they could escape at this rate.
The great walrus of a man cleared his throat. "Would you like a calming drought? I'm sure Maester Wolkan would be glad to provide such for you."
"W-we have to f-fix your su-sustainability i-issues." Fitz grabbed his journal and ink. Fucking quill...why would people write with this? It was terrible. But that wasn't what was important. "I-I'm fi-fixing it." He looked up at the confused looking man. "I-I need a-all the a-ash f-from the f-fires. All of i-it! A-and e-everything y-you have on gr-greenhouses. I'I'll have a l-list f-for you l-later." His attention snapped to his assistant. "Crann!"
////
Sansa didn't look up as the door of the solar opened. She knew who was coming in, she'd summoned him afterall. So she finished signing her name, and then pouring wax and pressing her sigel to the paper. Setting her house ring to the side, she finally looked up. "Ser Ryswell."
He twitched at the absence of 'lord' in his title. "What's this?" He held up his orders to travel to Eastwatch.
"We need to man the wall. According to my brother, Eastwatch is the keep closest to the army of the dead's last known position and holding it will be critical. You no longer have duties to your house, but have the experience to see to the keep and lead the men I send with you" She raised a brow. "Or did you wish to die of old age in some out of the way chamber?"
Rodrik Ryswell's wrinkled face tightened as he stared at her. He seemed to shake, slightly before it was like the air leaked out of him. "So I'm irrelevant and to be put aside then."
"If that's what you choose to believe. Or this is your opportunity to find honor." He looked exhausted. Dwindled really, the fight drained from him. His age betraying his indignation.
Sansa gestured her permission for him to approach and take a seat. "What would you have me do? The Wall must be defended if we mean to buy enough time to prepare. I know little of war but even I know this."
"So I am to be diminished to nothing but your pet." He spat, but there was little heat in it as he collapsed into the seat by the fire.
She politely didn't mention or indicate she could hear and see the creaking of his age written in his body and actions. "The cost of mercy. You still have your head, however that leaves you a threat I cannot allow to my back when I return to Winterfell. The Wall needs you, it's a convenient solution."
"You've ruined me. My legacy is ash. My descendents will curse my name." He gave her the slightest nod. "Fine, I'll go and die on the Wall for you. But I want something in exchange."
Sansa focused on him fully then, folding her hands in her lap. There was little she had she could even give him. Her and her House's power was still insecure. The closest to safety that they could have was tantalizingly close. She wouldn't risk that for this man. "What do you want?"
"Let my son rebuild our house. I want your word, you will allow him to raise us back up as far as he is able. The word of Ned Stark's daughter, not whoever you've become." Rodrik's eyes bore into her.
If she'd been less controlled she'd have breathed in relief. It was something she could offer to him. She gave the slightest nod. "I give you my word, I will not persecute your House for the mistakes of the past." Sansa measured him, he wasn't an enemy she hated, merely one she did not trust. "Would my plans for your House in the coming days comfort you?"
"Reckon they might." He'd relaxed at her promise, and now he settled further into his chair.
She laid her hands on top of the desk. "Your son and the new Lord Ryswell will continue to lead your men at my command. Once he's returned from Moat Cailin he will have two moons time to return to the Rills and put his affairs in order before the Lords' Moot. From there he will serve as a Lord of the North in the face of the Dead as any other. As to your daughter I believe she intends to become an advisor rather than a prisoner. A change I am not inclined to prevent. Your younger sons, Rickard and Roose will be allowed to fight as any other man in the North once the Dead arrive. Your grandchildren are too young yet to fight and as such I'd prefer them to be left in the Rills under guard to ensure the survival of your House."
"And if they achieve great feats in the wars to come?" He asked, though his voice had softened, his eyes had something like hope in them.
Sansa considered that. "Roger, as Lord of your House may be awarded a title or weapon or some other small token of value. With your actions in supporting the Bolton's I can do little else. Rickard and Roose, well it wouldn't be impossible for a small keep or position to be awarded. And should Barbary choose to remarry I have no issue with her doing so. Or perhaps returning to her home in a few years' time."
"I'll leave with some loyal men tomorrow then." Rodrik just seemed tired, his journey would need to be slow. "The rest of the men you mean to join us can come later."
She stood, she'd seen to enough paperwork for now. "It would seem I have enough food and equipment to ensure you and your men don't freeze or starve as you protect the North."
He blinked, and then laughed outright at that. His shoulders shook as he wheezed for air, his humor suffusing him from head to toe. He was practically jolly. He wiped tears from his eyes, looking at her. "You took our stores just to give it back to us. Gods be good you've got more balls than half your ancestors put together."
"You approve then." She opened the door, passing her letters to her guard. "Send those immediately."
"My Lady." The knight accepted them and left, his partner, one of Daisy's followers, gave Rodrik a glare before Sansa shut the door. She smiled slightly at the close door before letting it fade as she turned back to face the disgraced lord. "Now, in your experience what will you require for manning Eastwatch?"
Chapter 26Notes:I encountered a perfume yesterday that smells like a chainsmoker fucked a snowman....I think its the most aggressively awful perfume I've ever smelled in my entire life.
Chapter TextJon would never not be chilled at the sight of Daisy just walking out of the woods with no warning, at random, when he'd known she should have been on the other side of the continent. It was dangerous. "I find that unsettling."
"Any man'd find that unsettling." Hother Umber replied, his voice wheezy in a way the rest of his families' were not. Though his old age was almost assuredly the cause. His long white hair, and thin for an Umber frame, seemed nearly unremarkable by the rest.
Aroll of the Hornfoot clan of the Free Folk glared at Hother Umber. "No use jumpin o'er nothing when she's fighting for us."
Jon, if he'd been a southern Lord, would have pinched the bridge of his nose at that. Instead he just stayed standing. The Umbers and the Free Folk hated each other almost as much as the Night's Watch and the Free Folk hated each other. Eight thousand years of killing each other and now he had to make them work together. Instead of focusing on the impossible task of getting enemies to stand side by side, he stepped forward. "Your Holiness, we'd been hoping you'd return soon."
"I've got a letter for you. Your sister's seeing to manning some keep called Eastwatch though." Daisy held out a sealed letter to him, a lopsided grin on her face.
He grabbed faster than was dignified, cracking the wax without thought, eager to see what his sister had written. Already manning the keeps along the wall, he'd been a fool to think she cared more for politics and power than the fight that mattered. His eyes ran across the neatly written lines. Finally he looked up. "You believe her situation is secure, with Davos gone for the Rills?"
"It's a risk." Daisy shrugged. "But I left most of my men with her. And she'd crushed the last thoughts of Ryswell or Dustin revolt before I left."
Hother ran a hand down his long, thick beard. "I scarce believe the tales I hear of Lady Stark. She was a little girl still playing with dolls last I saw her."
"Yeah, you def shouldn't mention that next time you see her." Daisy raised a brow at the man. She shook her head before focusing back on Jon. "So I'm assuming that hunk of stone up over the next hill is the Karhold?"
"Aye." Jon carefully folded the letter before storing it inside of his leather armor. He'd store it with his things later, for now he'd rather not risk it unduly. He'd gone so long with nought from his family save dark words of others bringing dark tidings of their fates. "Are you willing to aid in bringing it down?"
Daisy gave a sharp nod. "Course, though with this army you'd be better served if I just keep the arrows off of you."
He accepted that easily. With Wun Wun to bring the door down, merely keeping the arrows off of them would assure a victory with minimum casualties on their part. Afterall, like the Dustins and Ryswells before them the Karstarks clearly meant to force them into a costly siege to weaken them before offering real opposition. Only that wouldn't work with a giant and god prepared to knock their gates down. His hand dropped to the pommel of his sword. "Sansa says Moat Cailin is ours?"
"Yup." Daisy looked...kinda disappointed actually. "It wasn't a long fight. Like you guys sent something like fifty times more men then you really needed. Mors left a force there under a Mormont man. He's sent the fastest troops back to Barrowtown to escort Sansa and her party back. The slower forces are further split into those returning to Winterfell, and those returning to the Rills with Ser Roger."
"Ah, how is the new Lord Ryswell?" Hother asked, a darkly amused vein to his speech. But well, he hadn't hidden his pleasure at the ruin being wrecked on those traitors to the North.
Daisy snorted. "Well he doesn't blanch when I so much as look at him now. But he'll be good. It's been...impressed upon him the mercy that's been shown to his House."
"Well that's good." Jon had a feeling the god in front of him had gone and done something terrifying to ensure that. Which he was both grateful and relieved for. "Come, we were just preparing our strategy when you arrived."
Jon laughed as he watched some of the boys getting their asses kicked by a god. But it was good for morale, they attacked at dawn the following day. A better mood the eve before could only be a benefit. "Think to try your luck Aroll?"
"I know better than ta fight a woman like that." The man snorted as one of the boys landed on his back with a squeak.
He nodded, watching as she lifted a sword, beckoning another boy forward. "She's getting better."
"Think the cunts in their stone house'll surrender?" Aroll spat on the ground in the direction of the Karhold.
Jon sighed, the reality of what was coming settling on his shoulders. A mantle he didn't want. "No, they're too proud for that. And we didn't come to let them live." He stared at the Wildlings eyes. "I won't tolerate rape. The men will leave the women and children alone."
Aroll scoffed, but didn't fight him on it. "We know the rules. They're right daft, but we'll follow 'em. Think you're 'oh so noble Umbers' will?"
"I'll take the head of any man who doesn't. Free Folk or Kneeler." Jon meant it, he would not allow this to become an orgy of violence and vengeance. They would do what was necessary, no more.
The wildling whistled, a falcon diving before alighting on his arm. "Scouts where you thought they'd be."
"Then we begin." Jon turned and walked towards where their men had been laying in wait for the expected scouting party. He'd deliver his terms to the Karstarks whether they wanted them or not. He didn't statle as he realized Daisy had followed him, reaching his side as they walked.
As they reached the woods where the scouts had been secured, the men at arms and wildlings were quietier here. But then they were the outer defences in case of an ill advised night attack. There by a fresh fire were four men tied, and kneeling in the dirt, the flickering flames just illuminating them.
One of the men in Mormount colors, few those though men were, approached. "Lord Stark, we've captured the scouts as you instructed."
"Well done." He acknowledged the man before turning to the scouts. He looked over the men, well armed and equipped, by their age likely survivors of the War of Five Kings. "Which of you is in charge here?"
"I am." A brown haired man glared up at him. His lip was cracked, the blood leaking into his beard. His hair pulled back to keep it from being caught in a helm that was no longer upon his head.
He saw no sign of surprise from the others. "What's your name?"
"Jor Miller." His eyes were narrowed in hate. A familiar enough emotion.
Jon wondered whether it was loyalty or hate of the Free Folk? Not that it mattered. "Will you carry a message to the Karstarks?"
"Never." He snarled only for a sickening cracking sound to halt the sound. The area went dead silent.
Jor's neck had snapped without being touched. His corpse tipped forward, hitting the ground without ceremony or warning. He was simply dead.
Daisy laid a hand on Jon's shoulder. "You'd be wise to consider Jon Stark's words." Her voice was cold.
He felt a shiver. The man had simply died. Not so much as a flicker of warning. But he held his disquiet back. Instead he turned to the men. "Are any of you willing to take a message back to House Karstark?"
A dark haired, slightly younger scout spoke hesitantly. "I-I will." He swallowed nervously at the attention.
Jon lowered himself so that he was eye level with the man and held his eye. "You will go and speak to Lord Karstark, and Lord Karstark alone. Do you understand?"
The man nodded quickly. "Aye."
"Good. You will tell him treason, especially against blood is cursed and it will not be forgiven. If he and every man with Karstark blood surrender they may take the black. The women, babes, servants, and men at arms will be permitted to live. If he fails to accept this offer, come tomorrow I will root him and his out of the Karhold and put them to the sword. His gates will not hold, his defenses stand. This time tomorrow House Karstark will be at an end. I swear it by the old gods, I, Jon of House Stark, son of Eddard Stark and brother to Robb Stark."
One of the other men snarled, jerking forward only for his bonds to halt him. "You're insane Bastard!"
Daisy snapped her fingers. There was a crack, his neck snapping, and he then crumpled like the last man.
Jon cleared his throat. "Are you prepared to carry my message?"
Jon stilled as he walked back towards his tent. "Why did you do that?"
"Because you'd have had to if I hadn't." Daisy replied without hesitation, her face knowing. "If the common folks in that castle were to get your message it needed to be sent."
His shoulders slumped. "You didn't have to do that. I'm capable of doing what is necessary."
"You're not the only one." Daisy stretched out her hand, her glove's new leather creaking slightly.
His throat felt tight, but he was grateful. And he found he didn't wish to go back to the fires where the men were eager for the bloodshed that would come on the morrow. But staring at papers in the command tent alone with his thoughts seemed unappealing as well. "Would you care for a mug of ale while we wait?"
"You guys drink just so much...but what the hell, sure." Daisy loped beside him towards the tent.
It was quiet as they walked, few would be stupid enough to want to interupt considering the two very dead scouts currently being burned. Jon was relieved not to hear bragging about how many men everyone thought they could kill in battle. He hadn't felt pride in battle since he'd first learned what it truly was.
The tent was blessedly empty as he filled two mugs from the pitcher of ale. He passed a mug to her, before dropping down on a war chest.
"You seriously need a vacation." Daisy patted his shoulder before taking a drink of hers while sitting besides him.
He stared at the floor. "Innocent people will die once we take down those gates. I can order the women and children to be left alone, anyone who surrenders to be spared, but once the men go through, swords in hand and blood up...it will barely matter."
"So we make it matter." Daisy elbowed him just hard enough to make him huff. "So who can we realistically save?"
Jon looked at her then. "Alys Karstark and the other daughters of the house. Any servants, children and other household members who won't carry swords can be saved. But if even a quarter of them are found and secured before someone stabs them…"
"I can do it." Daisy held his eye. "You'll be more vulnerable in the attack. But if I go in I can secure as many of the civilians as possible and ensure nothing happens to them."
He knew the cost. A few dozen if not more of his men would die at best without the god there to prevent arrows from reaching them. But those who could be saved likely would be. "Would you be able to find them once inside the keep?"
"One of the scouts is still alive, I'm sure he could be persuaded to help." Daisy hummed. "If I understand your battle strategy I will have time to prevent the first rounds of arrows from hitting. But once the gates come down I'd have to leave."
Jon's grip on the handle of his mug of ale tightened, his knuckles surely white. "Do it."
Jon stood tall, the sound of banners cracking in the wind around him. "It would seem they've chosen to fight till the end."
"Aye, stupid. But wasn't expecting anything else." Hother Umber replied.
He turned towards WunWun. The giant was in armor, it was mostly chainmail with hard leather over the top, but he had a helm on his head, Truly a fearsome being now. To the army already had ladders ready to be raised, to let them over the walls as the main force burst through the gates. Daisy standing ready to make the initial charge less deadly.
Breathing out, he set his shoulders, drawing his sword he looked at WunWun. "WunWun, to the gate."
Jon was first through the gate, the army at his back, WunWun chucking the pieces of the gate at the men on the wall. He raised his sword stopping a man's sword and then was batting it away before plunging his own into the man's neck. Hot blood splattered across his face, soaking his hand. Battle was here, and for good or ill it was what he was good at.
////
Daisy landed on top of the inner keep. If what the prisoner had said was true the women and other civilians would be shepherded here as soon as the gate went down. As such she'd secure the noble born first as they were who the army would be looking for and then move for any stragglers. If she wasn't sure of the keep's security it wasn't like she could send others there for shelter. She flattened her hands and focused on the vibrations within the keep. It was full of...noise for a better word.
But people were distinct, and she needed people without the distinctive metal of armor and weapons...or well many weapons. Hopefully. And she could feel it, people running through the halls, the terror as the reality that the Karhold was falling. There, one of the chambers had several people without a great deal of armor. Daisy opened her eyes and let herself drop off the roof, falling to the correct level before she rolled through an open window and took off at a run for where she felt what was likely women and children.
She grabbed a startled guard and stabbed him without pausing in her movement, his body hitting the ground as she was already moved well past him.
Running through the halls she used her powers to just fling anyone in her way into the walls hard enough there were crunching sounds. Skidding around a corner she saw an older woman panicking as she dragged two kids behind her. Based off her garb she was a servant, likely a dresser or some such. But more importantly she was moving away from the concentration of non combatant human vibrations.
Daisy came to a halt, sheathing her sword, hands raising up as the woman shrieked at her presence. "Peace, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you."
"You're with them!" She shook, her arms pressing the kids backwards.
Daisy didn't flinch at that. "I am, and you have maybe ten minutes before the army gets here. You have a chance if you follow me. You have my word, I'll protect you. There's no need for innocents to die."
"Old gods have you if you're lying." The woman grabbed the kids's arms as she stepped forward.
Daisy gave her a nod. "Come on, the others are this way." She moved quickly to lead them down a different hall. It wasn't far before she ripped the door open, the lock twisting from the force of her movement. There were screams from inside. Daisy waved the woman forward, half shoving her and the kids into the room. She looked at the gathered women, quickly spotting a woman who seemed to be incharge. "Where can I find the others? I can help more if you're in the same place."
The woman's grey hair was mussed, but she remained strong in her bearing. "The kitchen, they'll hide in the kitchen."
"Block the door." She grabbed the extra tunic of hers she'd grabbed, tossing it to the woman. "If they get here before me, shove that at them. Do you understand? You tell them you're under Quake's protection."
The woman's hands curled like claws around the beautiful white fabric delicately embroidered with red leaves. She gave a sharp nod. "We understand."
"Good." Daisy turned and was gone in a burst. She knew where the kitchen would be in an inner keep, and knowing where to look for the vibrations of scared civilians and not more of the chaos. Because she could feel hundreds of beating hearts, the shakes of footfalls on stone and wood. It was information she could barely use, especially while running. But she didn't care, it needed to be done. Jumping down the stairs she reached the kitchen. The doors exploded into splinters and dust before she touched them with her hands, her powers acting with barely a flicker of thought.
Daisy ducked a laddle being swung with a lot of spite. Holding up her hands she yelped. "WAIT!"
She vibrated the air between her and them to prevent her being skewered. "If you want to live, follow me to the lady's solar. It'll be cramped but you'll live."
"Why'd you wanna save us?" A narrow shouldered man asked, his grip on a cast iron pan tightened as he kept it raised above his head.
Daisy didn't have the soft political power or influence here to convince them with speed, but Jon did. "Because Jon Stark doesn't want this slaughter to kill everyone. And I can keep you alive long enough for that mercy to matter."
There were some murmurs, but then a few people stepped forward. The man lowered his pan.
"You have a better chance with me then the next to find you." Daisy hammered home the logical choice, they didn't have time for arguing. They needed to take the lifeline she was throwing. And finally, painfully, one man stepped forward.
////
Jon's arm ached as he yanked his sword out of a man's belly. His feet were heavy as he continued his march. Leaning back he knocked a blow away from him, it brought his pommel up, slamming it into the man's face breaking his face. As the man stumbled back he swung his sword slicing through the skin, muscle and sinew down to the bone, the force sending the dying man spinning out of his path.
He panted, his breathing labored from the battle, the tang of blood, sweat, mud, shit, piss, the stench of death surrounding filling the air. Jon looked up, the black banner with a white starburst upon it falling from the tower. As it hit the ground, blood soaked into the fabric, staining the white sunburst red. His sword lowered, the sounds of fighting fading.
"Lord Stark!" A man in Umber colors came running towards him. There was blood streaming down the man's face from a cut above one eye, nothing serious, but head wounds bled and the man was steady on his feet.
Jon acknowledged the man while letting himself settle, the fighting was nearly done. "What news?"
"We've taken the First keep, the remaining fighting men have locked themselves in the eastern tower of the inner keep." He wiped at the blood in his face, not that it did much. "The upper levels of the western tower are locked and we can't get in, but uh...the stones tremble and we're fairly certain her Holiness has locked us out of it for some reason?"
Jon breathed out in sheer relief. He looked around the inner courtyard of the inner keep he'd led the fight into. "You men, follow me. Aroll! Bring your men and follow me."
"Come on ya fuckers." Aroll ordered as he fell into step behind Jon.
Jon moved for the western tower, If they needed to break down doors in the easter tower, well WunWun wouldn't fit inside the halls to knock those doors down, and close quarter fighting in an enemy fortress would see more of his men dying than Karstark men, unless he had a god to root them out.
He strode quickly through the halls and up the stairs of the western tower, stepping over several bodies, all in Karstark colors along the way. There were some men with clearly a lot of broken bones groaning on the ground, Stark and Umber men securing them as they lay in pain. Which was telling that who had killed and or incapacitated them hadn't been his men. There'd be at least some fallen men in Umber or Wildling garb among the dead if it'd been his forces. As he strode forward he began to feel the faint vibrations the stone was giving off, the closer he got.
Jon could barely restrain his relief at what this meant. Reaching the door into the women's quarters and solars he raised his hand and knocked. "DAISY! It's me!"
There was a screeching noise of furniture against stone. And then the door opened, and there was Daisy. "Sup."
"How many?" He couldn't help how the words burst out of him.
"Forty two. There's two serving women and the son of the stable master is missing. I've also got twenty six men who chose to hide and surrender." Daisy rested her hand on his shoulder.
He dropped his sword, jolting forward, hugging the woman tightly, his eyes squeezing shut in desperation to keep tears at bay. They'd saved them. He didn't care about how startled she'd been at his movement, he had no words to thank her for this. It felt like hope.
She was slightly stiff, but then huffed softly and hugged him back. Her arms tight as she gripped him back.
"Thank you." He breathed out more than said.
"Anytime." She replied with a final squeeze before pulling back.
Jon pulled back as well, suddenly slightly stiff from his reaction. "My apologies I shouldn't have...hugged you like that."
"You're fine." Daisy smiled, her face fond. "So, based off the very ecstatic at having something to never let you live down men behind you, I'm going to guess you've got some guards for everybody so I can come help with something else?"
He couldn't help the upward tilt of his lips. In this awful day there was still good here. "The last of the fighting men have blockaded themselves in the eastern tower. We'll lose men rooting them out."
"Huh, finally something I'm good at." And her grin then didn't bode well for the remaining Karstarks and their men. And it didn't bother him.
Chapter 27Notes:Hey guys, you know that noncon/rape tag I have on this sucker? This and the next chapter are like 80% of why. Like I have never and will never write rape, but we're fucking dealing with the issues from canon established shit. So like it gets talked about....a lot. Not graphically but clearly. So heads up, if you can't handle that like...hit me up in the comments and I'll summerize as best I can? Like once Daisy gets to Barrowtown that trauma gets center stage. So heads up, just I mean it's been a undergoing thread but its not subtext in this chapter. We're bluntly dealing with loss of bodily autonomy, consequences and trauma from violation.
Chapter TextAlys Karstark didn't need to ask what had happened to her uncle or male cousins. Instead she was left with the knowledge she was at the mercy of Jon Stark, the bastard of Winterfell and an actual god. She was...exhausted, and hated herself for the shiver of relief she felt at her family's plans no longer hanging over her head. For now her responsibility lay with those of her House that remained. Her aunt, female cousins, the servants, and what of their men at arms who'd been roused for their defence that were left.
She straightened her dress, before loosening her hair before combing it out with her fingers. A night spent sleeping in a small space shared by all those the god had shepherded to safety had left her worn, sore, and not presentable for pleading the case of herself and her people. But she could ensure she was at least as neatly put together as possible.
The simple northern braid was easy, her hands making the motions without thought. Tying off her hair she rose before stepping to the bowl of water. Slashing the cold water against her skin, her eyes closed. She grabbed a towel and dried her skin with brick movements. Straightening she left the servant's bedroom she'd been allotted by the others due to her rank. Two of her younger cousins remained sleeping in the bed. She made eye contact with her aunt as she stepped into the solar. "The girls are asleep."
Celia Karstark flicked her eyes to a quiet corner of the solar.
Alys followed in the direction, keeping her chin and manner calm as she moved to where her aunt met her. Not that their conversation would be private truly, though at least the children would be spared from their words. Afterall they'd kept the servant children nearest the fire, and the children of their house in the servant quarters off the solar. "Aunt."
"He'll want to speak to you." Celia's voice was tight, nearly a whisper. The grim light in her face surely echoed in Alys's own.
Her mouth tightened. "Aye." Afterall with her eldest brother Harry imprisoned by the Lannisters and the rest of her immediate family dead, it left her the only member of the main family left. With her uncle and male cousins likely dead that fact suddenly left her arguably the Head of House Karstark.
Neither of them said more. For what was there to say? Their men had lost, and lost badly. Not that they could have expected the god. The giant however they had known of, not that it mattered now. Instead of speaking she reached out, taking her aunt's hand. Alys didn't know how long it was before the door opened. And two men in Stark colors entered.
One of them looked at her with the slightest frown. "Alys Karstark? Lord Stark would speak with you."
"Very well." She stepped forward, refusing to bow to mere soldiers. Even at the end she still had her pride, for what little time it would be permitted to her.
And so she was escorted through the halls of her own home. The men were far more on guard around her than typical, it was like they thought her a threat, then again their god was a woman so perhaps it made some sense after all. It hurt to see the halls of her home with splashes of blood on the stone, tapestries that'd hung there her entire life simply gone. Her home had been lost to her, even if the stones still stood. Reaching what had once been her father's solar she tipped her chin up ever so slightly, and then the men opened the door and she walked into the room.
The solar looked nearly the same as it had under her uncle, save for anything with the House Sigel was torn down and replaced with the direwolf of House Stark. Sitting at the desk of her forefathers was Jon Snow, or Stark, or whatever name he claimed now. His features familiar, the Stark colors and long face so often seen in House Stark, or Karstark for that matter. After all they were all of the same blood. Though he was far prettier than any Stark had the right to be, but then it'd have taken a lady of great beauty to lure a man like Ned Stark into straying from his vows.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the god who the Starks had found favor with. She wasn't in the plain northern practical style like Jon Stark was. Instead she had a sleeveless tunic on, her white linen shirt sleeves apparent. The tunic was similar to what she'd given them to prove her protection, a weirwood in fabric. She was reading through what was almost certainly Alys's uncle's correspondence.
Alys dropped into a perfect, and deep curtsy. "Lord Stark, your Holiness."
"You can rise." Jon's voice came, though she hadn't dared to look higher than the floor once she had lowered herself.
She straightened, her finger tips trembling ever so slightly. But she refused to look away now that she was permitted to look. For she could be brave like any of her forebears. "You summoned me?"
"I was told you'd taken responsibility for the women, children and others?" His solemn voice asked.
Alys face was clear as she replied. "To the extent that I am able, my Lord."
"Very well, then I will treat with you as such." Jon straightened in his seat, though his shoulders remained low, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. "House Karstark will not remain when the sun sets tonight. I have captured your cousin Arthor, the rest of the men of your house are dead. Arthor will not keep his head. The wealth of House Karstark is forfeit, the castles and lands owned by your line are forfeit and will be held by allies of House Stark until we gift them to loyal men." He paused, brow furrowing.
She didn't need him to say the next part. "I understand those of us who remain will be returned to Winterfell as your prisoners. I would ask what shall become of the small folk and servants?"
"The small folk and servants may remain so long as they bend the knee and repledge their loyalty to House Stark." Jon's head tilted ever so slightly, she'd gained his attention without planning for it.
Still, she felt relief at that even if she could have guessed at this result. A man who bothers to ensure the safety of the women and children would not slaughter small folk for sport. "Am I to be wed to you then, my Lord?"
The god startled at that. "Woah, wait what?"
Jon grimaced.
Alys spoke, she wasn't afraid of the truth of her situation. "It has long been the custom of House Stark to marry the daughters of fallen enemies into their line. As only daughter of the main line of House Karstrark I am left with the best claim to the North after those of House Stark. A marriage to Lord Stark to ensure any claim lies in my blood can never be used, as well as to end the line of House Karstark would not be amiss." She looked at the face of the man who held her fate in his hands.
The god straightened then. "Jon, I like you but if you think I'll just stand by while you marry off all those woman to be whatever life that'd be I will punch you in the face." Her voice had a distinctly dangerous under current for all that it was still friendly.
Jon raised his hands. "Sansa! I'm delivering them safely to Winterfell." His face turned pained. "But marriage to allies is likely their future."
"I could not hope for a better match than Lord Stark." Alys said carefully, her words slow but clear as she realized this wasn't the negotiation of her capitulation she'd thought. "Lord Stark is an honorable man. He is the best I could hope for your Holiness." She turned her gaze to the man instead of the god. "You hold my future in your hands Lord Stark."
Jon's face was...closed. Finally he responded. "Your future is in my sister's hands."
Alys gave the slightest dip of her head at that. The best future of her family was gone then. The trembling of her fingers was worse. She hid her hands in the folds of her dress. She could show no weakness. Not here. "When do we depart for Winterfell?"
"A week." Jon replied, he folded his hands behind himself as he stepped around the desk. "You have my word no harm shall come to you or those under your protection."
She didn't have anything to say to that hollow promise, even if she was grateful for it. "Thank you my Lord." She lowered her eyes once more.
////
Lord Manderly looked at the frames for glass houses that he'd ordered begun. If what this Fitz had said was true, a simple wave of their god's hands and simple sand and ash could become glass. Great sheets of the stuff that'd cost a fortune to purchase and transport otherwise. It cut the cost and simply effort in creating a glass house that he could barely comprehend the boon it'd be to surviving winter. "I'd offer her Holiness anything in my posession for her to aid my House in this way."
"Figure she'll probably do it for ya for nothing if you just ask in front of Lady Stark." Lord Umber replied, an amused light in his eye. "Seems pretty keen on aiding her Ladyship."
Lord Manderly's beard twitched. "Aye, she is at that."
////
Daisy frowned from her seat on the windowsill. "Will you be fine without me?" She found this day had left a sour taste in her mouth.
Jon was quietly standing by the fire. "Aye, the Karhold is ours. Travel back to Winterfell should be secure enough." He looked at her, his thoughts heavy on his face. "A marriage between Alys and I is likely."
"Do you want to marry her?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "She can't say no to you."
He just seemed..confused. "It's how things are."
"Do you want to?" Daisy was going to have strangle him, and then promptly intervene as wingman if he wanted to marry the girl. Like...jesus she'd have to make sure Alys could say no, then make Jon like...smile.
He flinched. "No. I doubt I could ever love a woman with my whole heart again."
"Ah…I'm sorry for your loss." Because Daisy understood enough from that one sentence.
Jon met her gaze and they understood each other. "I'm sorry for yours."
"How long ago?" Daisy hurt asking, but she saw the same grief in him as she had now that she knew to look for it.
His eyes closed, his face wounded. "Nearly four years now. She was a Wildling, she died in my arms." His frame shook ever so slightly. "You?"
"A little over two years, he…" She swallowed. It hurt, it hurt a lot but the pain had...it wasn't sharp like it used to be. It wasn't just pain anymore. It was guilt not loss that made her throat feel tight still. "There was an ancient god Hive. Lincoln died killing him. It should have been me, but he took my place."
Jon didn't ask for more, not that she was sure she could put it into words. He simply remained silent.
She dropped from the window sill. "I'll bring your letter to Sansa." Daisy paused. "You're a good man Jon, don't...I don't have a good solution for you but we didn't save those people just to sell them off."
"It's how things are done." Jon gave her a slight nod. "But Aye, that's not why we saved them."
Daisy braced herself letting her powers hum beneath her skin, and then let them free. It sent her flying up through the air, wind and snow whipping by her. It nearly felt like it was cutting into her from the cold and speed at which she was going. Which she was getting the hang of this flying thing. Made sense, she was doing it constantly since she'd reached this place. And a tiny part of her still was quietly freaking out over the fact she could fly...jump...whatever.
It was hard to judge exactly what was below her, the lack of electric lights made traveling at night difficult. Even the great castles couldn't hold a candle to the light from a single shopping mall. But, maps and making the journey almost half a dozen times in the last month left her familiar with the journey. A fact that was validated as she alighted on the top of the broken tower...her tower, at Winterfell. Closing her eyes she focused on the feel of Winterfell.
She could feel Fitz in the workshop, Hogg and Wilbur were with Maester Wolkan...she was slightly afraid of what they were probably cooking up for her cult. But safe. There was Rickon with his giant wolf sleeping in the gods wood, Brienne not far from finding him. It was exactly as it should be. Nothing felt out of place. It helped she knew these people, this place. The vibrations here were familiar, easier to understand. The unique heartbeats all identifiable, and it was safe.
Daisy considered going down, getting into dry and warm clothing, having warm soup, and spending the night here before moving on. But...she still felt...raw from mentioning Lincoln to Jon. It felt like it was bubbling there. Having to act like she was fine was...not great. Besides...Fitz… Which that was a can of worms she wasn't pretending was fine tonight. It was better to finish her journey to Barrowtown. There's be dry clothing there, as well as zero point in trying to hide her morose mood from Sansa. Also no judgement or likely political problems from Sansa realizing she wasn't content 100% of the time.
Sighing, decision made she aimed her hands downwards once more and launched herself in the direction of Barrowtown. It'd take a few jumps. But she'd get there. Barrowtown would have hot soup just the same as Winterfell. They really did eat way too much of the stuff here. Closing her eyes she enjoyed the rush of the wind, the roar of her passing through the air. She was getting closer and closer to true flight the more she learned to maneuver herself once in the air. The great arches she moved in were near meditative when she just let herself fly with the momentum.
It took her three great leaps to land on the rolling hills near the fortress. She tsked under her breath. About a half mile to one side and slightly off, this was so much easier during the day. Huffing she turned to make the short hike into the fortress. It'd be good for her to stretch her legs a bit...if she started shivering worse she could always hop the rest of the way. As she moved forward she closed her eyes, automatically checking the vibrations of the castle. It was more familiar to her than the Karhold, but she was familiar enough to pick up the heartbeats of the people she knew fairly quickly.
Daisy stilled completely. Sansa's vibrations were wrong, they weren't the usually tightly controlled vibrations more similar to a trained sniper's than a civilians. Her heart was too fast, the breathing was wrong, too fast, too panicked. Daisy's eyes snapped open, her powers launching her forward faster than she'd been flying earlier. She ignored manners, instead she just went straight for the window. She grabbed onto the stone sill of the window, the lock on the window snapping without thought and then she was through and into the room, her senses desperately searching out the attacker.
There was none. Daisy's slightly panicked stance eased slightly. Turning her eyes spotted Sansa. It was probably dumb luck Sansa hadn't screamed, though she was certainly alarmed at her sudden appearance. Daisy winced, but something was still wrong. "Are you hurt? Do you need a Maester?"
Sansa let out a choked sound, her eyes wide. And then a strangled laugh, her head falling against one hand.
Daisy blinked, that wasn't...She took in the room properly, not simply assessing for threats. This wasn't the solar or any of the various attached rooms she was typically found running a damn country from. It was her bedroom. There was a fire flickering in the hearth, a large bed covered in blankets and furs, wooden furniture but so clearly not a place meant for other people. And now that she was looking for it, Sansa was in a nightgown, hair loose and falling around her shoulders.
But...well Sansa did not look ok. There was a near manic look to her, and that was a bloody rag in her hand.
Daisy cautiously stepped closer. "Sansa? What's going on?"
"I…" Sansa half slumped against the table with a ceramic bowl on it. "I'm not pregnant."
And Daisy suddenly felt nauseous. "Ramsey?" It'd been months.
Sansa's whole frame shuddered, and it was so clear she had been crying before Daisy had crashed into the room. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, knuckles turning white from attempting to hold herself up. And then she crumpled an agonized keen coming from her chest.
Daisy didn't think, she just moved forward catching Sansa before she could hit the ground. Her hands caught the shaking form of her friend. Carefully she helped Sansa at least to the carpet before letting her slump to the floor. Her sobs wrecked her. Daisy looked up and grabbed a blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around Sansa's shoulders and then sat down beside her.
She was quiet as she simply sat there, letting the other woman sob. It was ugly and gnarled up with pain and Daisy knew there was nothing that would make it better. Just that it needed to come out. It wasn't the first, or the last time she'd been there when a friend had fallen apart. It was usually mission related. But even before that, back in St Agnes it had been familiar. She'd cracked enough times she simply ached for her friend.
The sound of wrecked sobs had long since faded, leaving them in the silent room, the only sound now the crackling from the fireplace.
Sansa's voice cracked, a hoarse quality to it from crying as she spoke. "You touched me. You haven't done that since Ramsey."
"I'm sorry? I know you don't like to be touched, I just kinda acted." Daisy winced slightly, she'd known enough to avoid touching the other woman since she'd first seen her. The memory of catching Sansa's wrist to stop her from stabbing the corpse of Ramsy for the whatever dozenth of time, flickered to mind. It'd been...the only other time she'd ever seen Sansa without her social mask on in the least.
Sansa let out disbelieving huff, staring at her like she was missing something obvious. "I appreciate my knees not being bruised." She looked at Daisy for a long moment. "Why are you still here?" Her fingers dug into the fabric of the blanket around her shoulders.
Daisy knew reaching out like she would with a teammate would be unhelpful. That would be the opposite of a good idea considering the context. "Because no one should be alone when they fall apart." She shifted slightly, looking at her friend cautiously, but it needed to be asked. "Was pregnancy a worry?"
"Yes." Sansa's body tensed, and then she just looked lost. "I took moontea but I never bled and I couldn't be sure."
Daisy shifted slightly. "If it's ever a concern, ask me next time, please. I can feel heartbeats, even small ones."
"I...I'm stupid." Sansa replied with a conviction that was depressingly apparent.
She turned fully to face her then. "You're not stupid. Hell I couldn't do half the things you do. I couldn't even keep a single team together and you're forging a nation! You're a better leader than me and I'm apparently a god. I don't think that sounds stupid at all."
Sansa stared into the fire, her face as bitter as her tone. "I chose to be married to him. I didn't want to, but it sounded like a chance and I let him convince me. I knew better, but I did it anyways and what good did it do? I may not carry his child or feel him in my body any longer but I carry his marks." She spat out the last part.
Daisy wrapped her arms around her knees and followed her friend's example. "I don't know what you went through. It's not...but I do understand."
"How? You're a god." Sansa sounded more exhausted than angry at it. But anger was still there.
She didn't talk about it. Everyone had known, what had there been to say? And talking about it… But for the person besides her who was cracked in a hundred familier ways she found herself talking. If she still had a therapist he'd be proud. "There was an ancient god, Hive." She didn't know how to put enough weight on the name to convey how dangerous he'd been. "He was a monster, needed human bodies to possess, to have physical form. But it wasn't just his hosts he could control."
Sansa was silent, but the weight of her focus was there in the air between them.
"I was the leader of a team of inhumans, demi-gods I guess." Daisy scratched at her arm trying to detach herself and failing miserably. "Joey could melt metal, Elena could move faster than any arrow in the space between a heart beat and the next, and then Lincoln. Lincoln controlled lightning. The gods that made us were the Kree, we were just cannon fodder for their wars. Powerful, human life spans, easy to enslave and control. At least they thought so at first. But they made Hive and he was the first of us. He could use the human dead as hosts for his mind. But he could enslave the other inhumans. Just a few seconds for his powers to latch onto you and it was like...every bad thing didn't matter. He was what mattered. But he fought off the Kree, banished them from our world, and then turned to control it. The inhumans that weren't under his sway banished and imprisoned him. And it worked, for thousands of years but then he got free. I...we were going to stop him. He couldn't be allowed to conquer our world. But just seconds...I didn't know, didn't see him fast enough."
The silence wasn't interrupted as Daisy tried to order her thoughts. "I was still me...but I was his. He needed blood so I gave him mine. He needed things from SHIELD, so I hurt my family, team for it. He wanted people dead so I killed them. I am dangerous, and he made me his weapon. He could have asked anything I'd have given it, done it. Been happy to do so. Andrew died to free me from Hive's control." She swallowed thickly.
"You didn't choose that." Sansa finally said softly.
Daisy felt her eyes burning as she remembered what had happened after. "No I didn't. But when I went back to him, when I begged for him to take me back I did. I couldn't live with what I'd done." She ignored the sharp inhale. She'd never told anyone she'd gone back. "He couldn't though, Andrew's powers made it so I couldn't be taken back. So I fought him, not to stop him, not to save people, but to make him suffer like I was suffering outside of his control. And I thought...I thought I could die, stop all of it. If I took him high enough, into the stars and blew us up with well...basically wildfire. We'd be too high to be saved even if the explosion didn't kill us. It worked." Her throat closed then. "But Lincoln took my place. So no, I don't know what it means to be raped. But understanding having your body not be your own. To not be in control of what's done to you." She scoffed wetly then. "And then I guess there was the whole Fitz thing."
Neither of them said anything then. Just sitting on the floor by the fire. It was...Daisy ached at the memory of her stupidity. She'd gone back, she'd begged for it. And it'd gotten Lincoln killed. Lincoln who hadn't deserved any of it.
Sansa broke the silence finally, her voice soft. "I told Queen Cersei everything. I thought I was in love with Jeoffry, that being sent home would ruin everything. Instead I gave her what she needed to destroy my family. I was just a tool after that, for the child I could bare for someone else to control the North with."
"It's fucked up." Daisy offered, she didn't have anything else to offer. "They say it gets better, that you move past it."
Sansa turned, facing her again, "Do you believe that?"
"Maybe?" Daisy shrugged, focusing on the slope of the other woman's nose instead of the pain. "I tried running from it, to get myself killed in a 'noble' way. Ended up half dead chasing evil men with a demon. Didn't help."
Sansa made a sound of understanding. "My first husband would say to use it as armor so no one else can hurt you with it."
"How's that going for you?" Daisy couldn't help asking.
Sansa let a fairly unlady-like sound that was nearly a snort. "We're here aren't we."
"And they aren't." Daisy wondered sometimes how much that mattered. But it was a comfort, a cold one, but one nonetheless.
"Hmmm." Sansa adjusted the blanket before settling again. "They all take and take. Sometimes it feels like there will be none of me left after it all."
She could feel that, had seen it. How much had it all stolen from Jemma? Fitz? Her? "I don't have an answer to that." Daisy looked over her shoulder at Sansa. Her red hair, falling down her back, face more vulnerable than she'd seen it before, looking softer. So achingly beautiful and filled with such familiar pain. "But I think you have more ahead of you than just being picked apart."