Chapter 49Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextLoras stared at the stones of the floor of his small room. He felt something, really felt something dangerous bubbling underneath. His arms were braced on his legs as he sat hunched on the edge of his bed. The knock on his door received no answer from him. If it was one of the men they'd leave. If not, his answer would not matter.
The door opened.
He looked up, his voice hoarse. "Are they dead? Is my sister and father dead?"
"Yes." Sansa's voice didn't waver as she allowed the door to shut behind her. No doubt Brienne and one of the Order of the Shield blokes standing guard outside. She took the single rickety stool as a seat and waited before speaking. "Do you want to know?"
Did he? It wasn't a want, he needed to. "Did they suffer?"
"No, from what the men of the Vale know they likely didn't even know what was happening. Everything from within five to ten buildings of the Sept of Balor was turned to rubble, there was nothing but ash and some large boulders left of the Sept itself. Your grandmother survives, as do your two brothers and mother." Sansa's voice was without pity, a certain…she simply was giving him the information without cruelty or kindness. Which was its own kindness. "Cersei was to stand trial before the Faith for her crimes of incest. It would seem she knew of or had access to large supplies of wildfire. They were lit, everyone in or near the Sept of Balor was killed almost instantly. It took three days for the fires to be completely extinguished in the city itself. Tommen killed himself as the city burned. With the nobility dead, hiding, or in chaos Cersei seized power and has crowned herself Queen."
Sansa's voice was cautious as she continued. "House Tyrell has not declared war on the Lannisters yet, but that alliance is done. The Westerlands, the Reach, and Dorne are the only realms left with fighting men and leadership in the south. With the Vale now pledged to fight the dead it will be a long winter."
"It doesn't feel real." He found himself saying, though his mind was already filled with the image of his sword plunged through Cersei Lannister's heart. He should have done it years ago.
Sansa didn't reach to touch him, she rarely touched anyone. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap. "I am sorry for your loss Loras, truly." She let out a sigh. "When you return to your family I will have some letters for you to carry, but with things, as they are now you are not a prisoner in word or deed."
"Do they ever feel like they're gone?" He interrupted, what did it matter to interrupt a Queen in private anyways?
She considered his words. "Yes, the numbness fades. It never lasted very long for me."
"I think it already is." He could feel a chasming loss waiting for him. Margaery was…she was his mirror. The person he had been closest to in all the world. "I can't go back." Back to his kind but crippled older brother lost in his hunting and horse breeding, his silly but happily married second brother with his jolly laughs, or his bitter and ever plotting grandmother. They would…they would fight against the Lannisters for this. But they wouldn't, couldn't win. He knew it in his bones. They weren't warriors.
Sansa was soft then. "Loras riding straight at the Lannisters will only get you killed. Your sister asked I keep you safe, I have and intend to continue to do so. She was in her own way dear to me, she would not want this for you."
"No." He shook his head. "You could take the Iron Throne from Cersei if you wanted to. Already you have the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands would hardly be difficult. And your navy, well the Ironborn are weak already anyways. If you had the Reach as well…" He could picture it, it'd be possible.
Sansa laid her hand over his fist. "I'm not going to take the Iron Throne. Not because I can't, but because it would get us all killed."
He breathed out. "The Dead."
"The Dead." She agreed.
Loras stared at her face because she'd no sooner leave her family unavenged than he. "You'll make Cersei come to you, in winter, through miles of Riverland country, all the way to the neck."
"I am Queen of the North, and that's a battle the North can win." Sansa replied. She didn't need to say that only Cersei would be mad enough to do it.
He slipped forward, dropping to one knee. "Then I will be by your side on that day, your Grace." He met her shocked expression. "I offer my services Sansa Stark. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."
"Loras…" She hesitated.
His mouth tightened. "I swear it."
Sansa's posture straightened. "Then I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."
Loras felt a grim purpose settle over his shoulders. He would serve Sansa Stark, and when the day came, he'd bring her Cersei's head. He was a knight, and he'd chosen his path.
////
Lady Dustin wondered when this had become her life as a man knocked on the door to a god's room and then opened it. Keeping her chin up, she swept into the room, if she was allowed then she was going to do it without second guessing her own actions. So she stepped into the room of a god and found…she probably should have expected what she found. It was rigorously clean, uncluttered, and simple. No tapestries, or anything to show this room was anything but the quarters of a well positioned guest. She raised a brow. "Very bare, your Holiness."
"Thanks." Daisy looked up from where she'd been writing…or from the look of it scratching at something. "Lady Dustin, what's up?"
She found the weirdness didn't even give her pause any longer. "The Small Council are cowards, but I assumed you'd have some interest in the safety of our Queen?" And yup, she had the god's undivided attention at that.
Daisy set her quill down, leaning back in her seat as she looked at her curiously. "Is this about the Queensguard thing?"
"We were thinking of calling it a Royal Guard. Separate it some from the ghastly abomination the southern version has become." Lady Dustin glanced at the bed, oh those were fine linens and furs but unadorned.
Daisy huffed. "Makes sense, branding and all that. So what stupidity are they pushing you want me to stop?"
"Five knights for the entire family." It was gratifying to see the god's nose scrunch in disbelief at that.
She shook her head. "Right, you want me to volunteer the Order members for her guard?" Daisy's head titled slightly. "An offer you want me to make after your men have settled on five candidates ensuring the guard is larger. Sneaky."
"Not necessarily. But your men suddenly swelling the ranks of the royal family's guard since the attack hasn't gone unnoticed, your Holiness. A fact I think you rather didn't want to go unnoticed."
"Fair." Daisy huffed. "Being subtle really doesn't work for you guys." There was an unspoken continuation of that 'and harming Sansa makes me very angry'.
Barbrey Dustin looked pointedly at the chair by the fire. "May I?"
"Of course, sorry." Daisy actually looked faintly embarrassed she hadn't offered sooner. "Do you want tea or wine or something?"
If it'd been anyone else she'd have cackled at that. "If I'm here long enough to justify it I'll think to ask. Now, I'm a woman of some age and experience, and with you as an actual warrior god, I thought we might come up with something useful for a royal guard."
"I'm down, sure." Daisy laughed fondly as she was up onto her feet and over to the chair near her. "And honestly five dedicated guards would work if the rest of internal security was managed accordingly. But not on its own."
Barbrey had come to exactly the right place. "Lord Glover was very fond of the number."
"Would making it ten keep him happy?" Daisy asked curiously, though her mouth was twitched up in amusement.
She laughed outright. "Lord Glover happy? The stars will fall first."
"He is a grouchy bastard isn't he?" Daisy grinned. "But let's be frank outside of formal stuff I doubt we need two Briennes following Sansa or Rickon all over a hundred percent of the time."
Barbery hummed. "The chief issue I see with this scheme is we'll end up with Brienne of Tarth, and Wagstaff, both of the Stormlands, taking two of the limited spots."
"Does it have to have a specific number of men? War is coming, a higher number now, and that can be reduced once the war is over." Daisy shrugged. "It's the most flexible option and lets people not just sacrifice their entire life to a single thing. Which seems smart."
Which…orders of knights were for life. But then, this god had been clear that those who served her were free to leave her service should they choose to do so. Her eyes flicked to the…not terrible but certainly not good handwriting on the desk. "An interesting proposition, do you mind if I write?"
Barbery sipped at her wine as she waited for the ink to dry on the very long list of advisement, including the volunteering of the Order of the Shield to fill holes in the defense of the royal family. "If I may, of all the gestures you've made towards her Grace, do you have something against simple tokens?"
"I got her a knife?" Daisy seemed surprised by the change in topic.
In that moment Barbery looked the god up and down. Beautiful, powerful, well spoken if weirdly so, and certainly a lot of titles. She actually felt rather bad for the woman for a moment, not that her gestures would have failed on anyone less closed off than their Queen. Damned being had easily dropped two to three king's ransoms worth of favors on their Queen. "You're accustomed to being courted, not courting aren't you?"
"Ah, that obvious?" Daisy didn't show any sign of insult. "I mean, not that I haven't gone after a person I was interested in before. But you're not wrong…also guys way easier."
Barbery sipped at her wine. "A bit, and seducing a man is as easy as showing some ankle. Honestly, it's fishing from a barrel. I think my greatest accomplishment as Lady Dustin was staying unwed for the entirety of it."
"Which good for you, because like the way you guys do marriage here is…so weird to me. It's insane, I don't get it at all. And you don't have divorce? Which wow it's different. Like super gross how the wife belongs to her husband." Daisy gave her an approving nod. "Like mad respect, you managed to be in charge till we came and forced you to surrender."
She was inordinately pleased at the praise, but then she received so little of it and this was a fucking god. She was allowed to feel smug. "Yes well, crushing marriage proposals and general manly stupidity gets easier with age. You learn their tricks."
"Still impressive." Daisy flicked her fingers and the tea she'd set aside and it began to steam, it was terrifying. "But what did you want to talk to me about? Cause you could have gotten my support for your royal guard ideas an hour ago." Her brow raised as she sipped from her tea, gaze focused on Barbery.
Her mouth felt dry at the attention, but she held her composure. "The knights of the Vale are sworn followers of the Seven. And you're not one of them, and you're courting our Queen."
"And you think I should do what about this?" The god asked.
"Fuck 'em." She gaged the casual profanity wouldn't insult let alone ruffle the god before her. "We're about to fight the dead, I could give a rat's arse about the sensibilities of the Vale. Fools the lot of them. But if you keep playing at humanity and being polite and respectful they'll get notions. And men and their notions are never a good thing. So, fuck 'em. Shock and awe. Make sure the fools are too scared to get any silly notions between their ears."
Daisy snickered. "Well that's certainly one approach. But doesn't Sansa need them?"
"If those cowardly shites refuse to fight the dead after refusing the call of everyone for years of war now, with a mad Queen on their doorstep they're worse than I'd give them credit for." Barbery drank from her wine. "And that's a very low bar. Any man of them turns back now and they'll be the laughing stock of the Vale. Might as well brand themselves cowards and be done with it. Besides, you might be a foreign god who appreciates the female form, but you're not the mad bint who blew up the Sept of Balor along with the High Septon."
"Huh." Daisy tilted her head. "And how would you advise I act more like what I am?"
Barbery was slower now. "I doubt any mortal, save perhaps your cracked companion, knows what you are capable of. But stop humoring the men. It gives them ideas. Also flowers are considered romantic gestures. And are very visible."
////
Sansa expected to feel…afraid, small, or trapped again when she saw Petyr waiting beneath the weirwood tree for her. She'd known he was there, Brienne's steady presence had accompanied her after all. But for all she'd expected she found…she was angry, but also…this monster of her childhood no longer loomed quite so large. "Lord Baelish, back in the North."
"You've done more than I could have imagined. You have no idea how relieved I am to see you unharmed." Baelish took a half step forward, his eyes flicking to Brienne. "Lady Brienne."
"Did you know about Ramsey?" She wondered that, she knew in her heart the answer already.
He breathed in slowly, his face showing his lack of answer, which was its own answer. "Sansa…"
"If you didn't know you are an idiot, and if you knew you're no 'friend' of mine." She had thought him her friend once, placed her trust in him, even with that gone she'd thought she'd known she was safe with him so long as he wanted her. But she'd been wrong. "Should I tell you about my wedding night? What do you think he did to me? He needed my face, the face of Ned Stark's daughter, but the rest of me? He did what he liked. So what do you think he did to me?"
Petyr's head twitched to the side slightly. "I can't begin to imagine." He silenced himself as Brienne's hand landed on the hilt of her sword. "You survived."
"I did." She could rake him over the coals for his betrayal, but no. She needed him to think she assumed him indebted to her. Give him a place to try and build where she knew his exact purpose. He needed her, so give him the route to her he was looking for.
His eyes flicked from Brienne back to her. "You're Queen of the North."
"I am." Sansa hated the faint tremble in her hands as she spoke. "And yet I bear scars from what he did to me. I will always carry those scars."
Petyr's arm moved faintly. "You made justice for what was done for you, you retook your home. Let me help you keep it."
"The only reason I haven't had you thrown out is because of the wars to come. But I won't forget who you gave me to, what you left me to." She nearly spat the last part. Leave him to grovel, she could throw something at him eventually. It was…steadying to know she could probably stab him and Brienne would help her hide the body.
Petyr took a step forward. "You wrote to me."
"I did, and you came." Sansa looked at the weirwood tree. She was..tired of this. Her anger and hurt felt old. "Mayhaps we'll survive the days to come."
Sansa was sitting by the blue roses in the glasshouse. She hadn't wanted to face her court after speaking to Little Finger. It was warm here, her fur cloak lay discarded by her seat on the raised wooden flower bed. This one place had seen little damage in the years since her childhood. Here and the crypts. And she wasn't so maudlin as to seek out the crypts, not today.
"Hey." The familiar, and soft voice came from the end of the row. The polite respect for her space and privacy, it couldn't have been anyone else, even if the list of people Brienne would have let through without announcing only numbered three.
She smiled, looking up. "Daisy."
"I come bearing gifts." She pulled out the distinctive wrapped bag of candied nuts. She recognized the fabric from the kitchens. "I had a hilarious conversation with Lady Dustin I thought you might be interested in, and I thought you might want a distraction."
Sansa's smile grew, she found she didn't care how dangerous this feeling was at the presence of the other woman. It was a warm balm she needed. Later she could box away the sensation, for now, she allowed herself this. "Well, I won't say no to the nuts." She considered the other part. "What did Lady Dustin want with you? I thought she was still too terrified to speak with you unless you initiated?"
"Oh, she's still terrified of me." Daisy grinned, easily dropping onto the planting box beside her, heedless of the dirt and offering out the bag of candied nuts. "But she really hates the Vale. Thinks they're a bunch of puffed up cowards. Pretty sure if she was a giant she'd take them over her knee with a switch. Lady is super intense."
Sansa laughed softly as she plucked a candied nut from the bag and popped it into her mouth. "She certainly is impressively vindictive when she wants to be."
"Yes well, she's going to be dropping a proposal for your royal guard on your next small council meeting, I helped. And you can have as many of my boys as you want for security. They'll be very excited about it actually."
Sansa hummed, it'd be useful, and a further show of strength. No doubt Lady Dustin would browbeat half the council into her idea before the meeting itself. "I look forward to what you two made."
"Hmmm. So, Lady Dustin seems to think I should go with shock and awe to prevent the Vale from getting any 'ideas'. And I can't say I didn't have the same idea myself." Daisy fidgeted with the end of her sleeve faintly. "But they're your people."
She reached out, laying her hand over her friend's. "Thank you." Sansa saw the words to lightly avoid the gratitude already forming on Daisy's lips. "No, you don't know what it means you brought this to me. That you always bring it to me. Thank you."
"Always, I got your back." Daisy winked. "So, thoughts? Should I make some clouds vanish from the sky? Blue fire? Cause I can do the dramatic thing if you think it'll help."
Sansa considered that, looking away from her friend and back to the various plants. She could see Barbery's point. All things considered, it wasn't the worst idea. "It might be for the best, what have you been thinking?" Because clearly, Daisy had been considering this before Barbery brought it up.
"Well just punching everyone who decides to be rude clearly isn't working." Daisy shrugged. "I make things vibrate, it's not exactly the…most safe power but I can make it flashy. Honestly messing with the air temperature and ensuring people feel it when I'm in a room. Some minor stuff for the wow factor occasionally and that'd probably do it. I figure anything more than that would be bad."
Her lips curled as if what she was discussing was nothing. "I would imagine so, if you could avoid structurally damaging anything that would be preferable."
"I can do that, and like just give me the judgy look you give Rickon when he's thinking about sneaking out of something and I'll dial it back." Daisy grinned. "Yup, that one. Just do that and I'll know it was too much."
Sansa rolled her eyes and took more of the nuts. "I don't have a look."
"Oh, you totally have a look. It says 'I will send you to bed without dinner and you'll be grateful for it'. Very devastating. I think you almost made that Hornwood guy cry with the sheer weight of your mild disappointment." Daisy nudged her gently, before reaching out and plucking a blue rose from the bush. "However, a further point was made that I'm failing at courting you properly apparently."
Sansa huffed at that, looking at Daisy. "Oh really? Pray tell how you've failed to do so. I think just living up to your example will keep me unmarried for years after you leave if I feel so inclined."
"Apparently I should have been getting you flowers? Which going to be honest, flowers would be expected in my world too." Daisy glanced at the flower in her hand. "Trust me?"
Sansa should have been terrified of how easy her answer was, but then this trust had been earned. "Yes." And it may have made her heart ache. It may be turning into something not so simply forgotten. It may be unwise. But that didn't change her answer.
Sansa ignored the looks as she walked to the high seat at the high table in her great hall. Upon her head was a woven crown of blue roses, a skill she hadn't expected Daisy to have but apparently, the woman was just good at flower crowns? Either way, it was definitely noted by the court, by everyone really. Daisy certainly knew how to make a statement.
Notes:So you know what isn't GoT or AoS or in anyway related to this fic in any way shape or form? My love of Cinderella. Because I was talking to a friend the other day and they asked me what my favorite Disney movie was. And like I love a lot of Disney movies, there's a particular soft spot for Robin Hood and Mulan in my heart. But my favorite Disney movie really is Cinderella. And for all that I range from hate to vague disgust for the various remakes. Even the ones that are not bad, I don't like them. Because they're missing the point.
They all tie themselves in knots to focus on the romance. But they're missing the point, the Prince isn't a romantic interest, he's a getaway driver. The conflict has nothing to do with him being a Prince or a romantic interest, his singular role is to recognize that Cinderella is a good and wonderful person and that the lies and forced hardship of her world aren't the truth about who she is. And then to help her escape an abusive home because he's seen who she is. The conflict is will Cinderella persevere and remain herself and keep dreaming and shit while being faced with endless abuse. The Prince doesn't matter. He could be a social worker removing a child from an unsafe home, the cop at the end of a horror movie helping the survivor into the back of a car that'll take them to the hospital.
The whole conflict and point of the story aren't Cinderella finding love, it's Cinderella persevering despite her circumstances and having the strong and kind person under her rags recognized because she's been brave enough to never lose sight of who she is. The antagonist isn't trying to keep Cinderalla away from the Prince, the Stepmother is trying to force Cinderella into being a prisoner and servant in her own home. There's no reason for that other than spite, and anger and meanness. Because sometimes people are just horrible like that. And she's on a rather extreme end of that spectrum, but it's not like it's something we never see in people. The story is about a girl overcoming an abusive home life. And somehow the Disney cartoon got that.
The prince not having a name really doesn't matter because he's not the point. He's barely a character, he's a symbol of society embracing and recognizing and rescuing Cinderella. Marriage is just how he does it because of the setting and the time in which it was written. Because it matters that the man who could have anyone, sees a girl in rags, who he is told by every social construct ever is nothing, and he still sees who she is despite the lies of others. I just really enjoy it. Also her singing while her image is in the bubbles lives rent-free in my head for all time.
Chapter 50Notes:So no spoilers, but I really enjoyed the Multiverse of Madness, like seriously recommend it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextFitz had meant to find Daisy to ask her about vibrational signals they might be able to let out every night in the hopes Jemma could pick up on it. Course the answer would probably have been no, what with attracting every alien in the fucking universe to this dark age planet. But it was a point worth asking. Or at least he'd thought so until he'd found Daisy, and well…wading into the swarm of twenty something small children having a snowball fight was not happening. Kids were vicious little biters, especially the type that thought chucking snowballs at each other was fun. Daisy clearly lacked all self-preservation instincts, so normal behavior for her, and was gleefully stomping about like some sort of Godzilla with children hanging off of her.
He ran a gloved hand through his hair. "Rats." Wading down there to get Daisy's attention would be suicide. And calling out to her would just give her 'ideas'. Ideas that would involve trying to cram frozen slush down the back of his neck.
Crann sniggered at his predicament, damned assistant. "I believe her Holiness is occupied at the moment."
"I c-can see that. Thanks." The sarcasm was thick as he considered what to do. It wasn't like the paper, or new printing press he was working on were particularly difficult. The massive sewer system he'd designed for them had at least kept him busy for a couple of days, but now he was just…puttering.
The crunching of snow caught his attention. He looked to the side and spotted the party of three men approaching him. Course he recognized Greatjon, loud asshole that he was, but the other two weren't people he knew. "Who're t-they?"
"Tha's Lord Royce and Lord Baelish of the Vale." Crann frowned, dislike on his face.
Fitz grumbled under his breath. Fuck, he knew who that was. "W-well that's unfortunate."
"If we make for the workshop, we could avoid them?" Crann offered.
He groaned, nope he owed Daisy and he knew what his role was in all this. His eyes narrowed as he took in Lord Baelish, did the man have to look like he'd stepped out of an evil fashion magazine? Were assholes just wearing stylish blacks just a thing across worlds? It was depressing. Why couldn't evil have bad fashion for once? It was just gauche. And if the Doctor had preferred black suits, well that wasn't a factor in his feelings on the matter.
Looking away from the approaching conversation he was going to be trapped in he blew out a long breath, watching his exhale crystalize into a mist before him. He snorted as he watched several kids decide tackling Daisy was a good idea, sending all of them down into a heap. Daisy was making very dramatic noises about 'betrayal' and 'death'.
"Fitz!" Greatjon greeted, his voice booming as he reached him. "Odd to see you out of your workshop!"
He rocked back on his heels. "I r-require sunlight or Daisy'll drag me out." Probably a lie, but fuck it he wasn't happy about having to bother with local politics. And…well she might actually do it, probably. Things were still weird since their argument so maybe not?
Greatjon laughed, his hand slamming down on Fitz's shoulder in some sort of macho thing. "Aye, she would at that." He waived to the men beside him. "This here is Lord Royce of Runestone and Lord Baelish of the Fingers. They were hoping to meet our resident god."
"She's b-busy." Fitz ignored the fact he had no doubt that behind him Daisy likely had a small child dumping snow over the top of her head.
The smarmy, pencil mustached, and goateed man who frankly looked like a weasel, spoke up. "A shame, I had so hoped to be able to speak with her Holiness."
"G-good luck with that." Fitz could practically feel the ingratiating ass-kissing wafting from the man.
Lord Royce however spoke up, his voice gruff. "Surely she can be pulled away from her diversion."
Greatjon laughed. "Diversion? Naw, she always makes time for the kids. Has a right soft spot for 'em."
"A woman's sensibility." Lord Baelish smiled, it felt slimy, a politician's expression.
Fitz, Crann, and Greatjon all laughed at that.
Fitz wiped at his eye. "Please say that t-to her face." He glanced up and down the ponce. While Daisy hadn't told him most of her reason for her loathing of the man, he'd been able to read enough between the lines.
"I fail to see the humor? Surely even gods are allowed their delicacies?" Baelish was weighing their reactions.
And Fitz, well he knew exactly what he and Daisy had discussed. It was almost a shame to prevent this man from giving Daisy an excuse. "D-daisy is a lot of things. But d-delicate isn't one of them." At least not in a way random creepos could use against her. Fitz neatly ignored the thrum of guilt at the knowledge of exactly how delicate Daisy could be if you knew her.
"Oh, what would you call her then?" Baelish's attention was so calculated in its lightness.
Fitz shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his trousers, which yes proper trousers. He'd had to ask but they were worth it. "Dangerous." He cocked his head. "D-do you know how many humans she's k-killed? Not m-monsters and other gods, just p-people?"
"Surely as a warrior she's killed a great many." Lord Royce scoffed. "That is no secret."
Fitz knew it was bullshit, Daisy's actual kill count wasn't that large really. But if you squinted at the timeline enough it did work out. "Over seven b-billion. Not a million, billion. I t-think it's getting closer to eight now. T-there's a saying in my world. W-where she goes, death f-follows. We d-don't worship her. She's my friend, she likes h-humans, but she's not one. And you s-seem to think her restrained p-powers are impressive. She's a t-tap holding back an ocean and you seem to think the d-drops are her power. So f-for now we are here. A-and if you are lucky we will leave without you seeing what she is c-capable of."
He closed his eyes as a snowball impacted the side of his neck. He could feel the frozen slush dripping down the side of his neck. Fitz opened his eyes while reaching up in disgust. "DAISY!"
"You're being broody!" She grinned as she hollered at him, unrepentantly.
He gave a sharp nod. Right. Fitz looked at the men. "Excuse me." Then he swooped down, scooping up a handful of slush, and turned to return fire. "GET B-BACK HERE!"
Fitz was panting as he lay in the snow, his feet half up a small lump of snow. His lungs burned from the cold air, sweat soaking into his shirt where slush hadn't already soaked him. The pleasant ache of muscles used. He looked up at the small child staring down at him. "D-did we win?"
////
Sansa brushed her brother's shoulders off. "Black really is your color."
"Always was." Jon chuckled as he glanced at his clothing. "This is a bit much isn't it?"
She raised a brow at him. "You're a prince and Hand of the Queen. You're properly dour by those standards."
He touched the snarling white wolf curling around his color. "I like the wolf bit?"
"You know if we survive the Long Night you're going to have to learn to pay at least some small attention to your clothing." Sansa smiled at the expression on his face. It was the one he'd worn in childhood whenever he and Robb had been forced to get cleaned up for feasts. "You're important now."
His shoulders slumped. "I don't know what I'd do if I survive this. Sleep?"
"You'll be given Moat Cailin and found a cadet branch of House Stark," Sansa replied automatically. "So marriage, family, and continuing to serve as my Hand."
He opened his mouth silently before shaking his head with a huff. "You have it all figured out don't you?"
"I try." She replied dryly. "Now, there was a message from our party sent to Essos." She handed him the very fat letter that had arrived by rider in the night.
Jon accepted it, opening the parchment and reading the contents. His brow furrowed as he took in the words. "The Ironbank accepted our envoy?"
"Yes, no agreement has been settled, but Lady Flint and Lord Moss both think they will have good news for us inside this turn of the moon. They've also acquired fifty ships and begun making contracts for trade." Sansa could practically feel the relief at the news contained in the letter. It was a sign that her gamble with trade could pay off and feed them and theirs for the winter.
Jon set the letter aside. "That's good, if Daisy makes glass for glasshouses for the rest of the North it will keep food in men's bellies."
"She's agreed to go to White Harbor and the Widow's Tower tomorrow to make glass for them." Sansa was fairly sure eventually everyone would ask, but it would need to be them asking for Daisy to do it for them.
He straightened the cuffs of his shirt. "Good, that's good." Jon frowned slightly. "Why not just ask Daisy to make glass for all of our Houses?"
"Because I can't be seen to constantly be ordering Daisy around like a pet. Even if she'd do it, it would dilute appearances. With her powers, a delay in them asking her can be survived. It further establishes worship of the old gods besides." Sansa had realized the religious future of her kingdom some time ago. "The North won't have worship of the Seven or any other god save the old gods within five years. A change we want considering the Faith of the Seven has never been kind to Queens."
Jon touched her arm gently. "Aye, I can see why that'd be important. But…you always prayed in the sept as a girl?"
"The Seven never answered my prayers." Sansa could see the lack of understanding of the depth of what she was saying. So she continued. "I don't pray to the gods any longer. They don't care for our lives and pleas. But the old gods are a part of the North. They're a part of us, like the earth and the sky. It helps to know they are real, tangible even. The Seven? If they are real they have no place for a woman like me, I see no reason to diminish myself for approval by gods who do not care nor are bound to us.." After all, she was a woman in power, risen above living male relatives, given shelter to a rival god, and desired a woman.
He nodded to her words. "Aye, can't say I ever gave much bother to the new gods. But just…if it's important to you you don't have to lose that."
"I stopped praying to them years ago." She laid her hand on his upper arm. "I'm sacrificing nothing. Besides, it's not as if I intend to drive out worship of them, merely that it will die on its own."
Jon's shoulder softened, the warm kindness that cut so wonderfully, painted across his face. "Good. I worry about you. I know you're Queen and can handle yourself but it's still my job to protect you."
Sansa stepped into her brother, hugging him because she could because he was there and she wasn't alone. "We're pack."
He hummed in the affirmative holding her back just as tightly. Reluctantly he released her from his embrace, stepping back. "Lady Dustin wishes to speak with me before the small council meeting?"
"It'll be about her royal guard proposal. She's already spoken to Daisy about it. I assume you can handle the project?" Sansa was honestly relieved to be able to leave guard details to someone she trusted and someone who knew the first thing about such things instead of having to try and do it herself. The relief of having her brother by her side as a stalwart pillar of strength was breathtaking.
Jon actually looked faintly excited at the prospect. "Good, I know with two sworn swords you're safer now, but you need a proper guard."
"Yes, well I trust you to handle it." Sansa lifted her cloak off the back of the chair. "For now I believe I am required to listen to petitions until the small council meeting."
Her brother handed her her gloves. "I'll speak with Lady Dustin then. We'll need to discuss where best to put the Vale armies when they arrive. It may only be a few hundred knights now, but with them pledged to us we'll need their armies soon."
"If we could spread them between several strongholds closer to the Wall and get them digging ditches I assume that would help?" She checked. Her brother's strategy for the dead seemed to keep the army spread and able to move to any one location quickly. Also ditches, he'd been very passionate about digging ditches everywhere a ditch would go.
He smiled, clearly proud. "Aye, that is likely what will be best. But we can discuss it at the meeting later."
"Good, until then." She smiled as they stood for a moment, united and prepared to face the world together. And then she was leaving the room, Loras falling into step behind her as she walked towards the public royal hall.
Sansa noted the perhaps forty men of the Vale attending court. The presence of Lord Royce and Baelish wasn't surprising, though why they were particularly pale, she wasn't sure. Actually, she faintly realized she'd rarely if ever seen Baelish look that disquieted…Daisy, Daisy had definitely done something. She nearly sighed outright in fond exasperation, not that she allowed the feeling to show on her face. Instead, she focused on her first petitioner.
////
Lord Royce was honored to be invited to the later part of the small council meeting. He was impressed with the North, he was impressed by Sansa, and impressed by the court that had been formed here. Everything was running well, superfluous actions or people didn't seem to exist here. No such thing as a pointless courtier, the nobility all had jobs and it didn't seem to be doubted that if they weren't busy they'd have a job found for them. Those ladies of the court were turning out gambesons, banners, shirts, and a hundred other needed fabrics at a rate that was inspiring.
He ached with a desire to turn and find Ned Stark and tell him 'look at what you're children are doing? Aren't you so proud?'. But that man was gone, and his brilliant, talented children were the legacy he'd left behind for the North. And this small council? Gods be good it was a group of men selected for ability from across the North. But not just the North, Davos of the Stormlands was there, a Wildling man. It was a representation of the whole of Sansa's kingdom.
Jon set one of the newly carved wooden and lead filled tokens representing the Vale forces onto the map. "You say three moons for the full might of the Vale to reach Winterfell?" He looked up at him.
"Yes, the roads are in better repair than expected. We've already ordered our banners called and men assembled." Lord Royce replied, he could see the shape of the northern strategy for the war and he approved.
Jon's lips twitched upwards at that, his eyes flicking to his sister briefly before returning to the matter at hand. "Good, once they arrive your army will need to be split into four and placed here." He pointed to one of the northernmost keeps, and then three other keeps spanning the breadth of the North before the New Gift. "We make these keeps fall back points should the Wall fall. It also keeps the army close enough to the Wall that once we know where the Dead mean to attack we can fortify there."
Lord Royce wished he was a younger man, a man who might ride in the front lines beside a general like Jon. By spreading the army it also spread the burden on the supply lines. "And keeps the supply lines easier to protect." Because no single location would cripple the entire army.
"There is that as well." Jon picked up another block representing the Vale. "Now, since Harrenhall is Lord Baelish's it also would be wise to man it, and man it well. It'll slow down any southern attempts to hamper your men's travel north."
Lord Baelish spoke. "You can't mean to take the Riverlands now?"
"Not yet," Sansa spoke from where she had been silently allowing her brother to run the more military matters. "However they are the route the south will be forced to attack. If Cersei means to prevent our alliance that is where she will attempt to waylay your army."
Jon continued for her. "And we need your army here. Once the Long Night is over we can worry about the south and the rest of it. Securing your men's approach will allow them to move faster as well."
Lord Royce regretted his age as he knelt before the statue of the Father in the small sept of Winterfell. It wasn't a large building and clearly hadn't been used by anyone in perhaps years. But his soul had required prayer, guidance even. So he was here, kneeling before the Father asking for wisdom. The North was not what he'd expected.
His knees were protesting when he smelt the sweet scent of incense and the steps of someone else in the sept. He felt something ease at the sound of another worshiper, someone else lighting the candles for each of the Seven. The gentle respect of the incense filling the small sept. A sign of that perhaps even amongst these heathens true faith yet remained. With a last silent prayer, he opened his eyes and pushed himself up towards his feet.
His left knee caught, an old war injury. It was likely the mix of the cold stones and the long day he'd spent on his feet. With a jolt, he started to go straight back down to his knees, only to be caught under the elbow by a strong hand. Royce steadied himself, the hand dropping as soon as his feet were properly under him. "Thank you, old war wound acting up." He turned to see his helper only to freeze. "You."
The foreign god had taken a respectful half step back. Her face was tilted towards him with a thoughtful expression, far neater and drier clothing than those he'd last seen her wearing. "Don't worry about it, injuries like to sneak up on you like that."
"How…" He looked around the inside of the sept briefly. "How are you here?"
She looked faintly amused. "I don't have any conflict with your gods that I know of. At least I'm ninety percent sure I've never met them. Which means they probably don't care one bit about me and I like the incense not going to lie. I grew up with nuns and like, it's all nostalgic." The god smiled, her voice was calm as she explained her presence. "Fitz said you wanted to speak with me, Lord Royce?"
"Yes, I'd hoped to speak with you, your Holiness." Royce allowed as he settled. "I can call for a chaperone?"
The god let out a laugh, it was light and musical though brief. "Unless you would like a chaperone I believe we're fine." Her smile was fond. "I doubt you plan to impinge upon my honor. And I think we both know my taste runs younger and far prettier than you."
"You have a point." He considered her, she wasn't what he'd expected. But then he didn't know what to expect. "Do you prefer to be addressed as your Holiness?"
She hummed, stepping to one of the smooth benches and calmly sitting down. "You'll fit in here better if you do, but honestly I don't care. You can just call me Daisy, at least when we're speaking if you want. And I'm not your god, as long as you're not blatantly rude, I really don't mind."
"You are not insulted that I would worship different gods?" Royce found himself asking if it was…perhaps too direct but this whole meeting felt surreal as he sat on a bench opposite the god facing her curiously.
Shaking her head, the god remained calm. "I'm not the type of god people usually worship. I'm the Destroyer of Worlds, and I'm fairly young. It's not like worship affects me either. I can't hear prayers, it doesn't give me power or take away power. Why would I care? Besides there are other gods besides me, I've met quite a few of them. What is to say your gods aren't real?" She looked at him curiously. "Why would I even want you to worship me? Like no offense or anything but like..eh?"
"You truly hold no censure against those who worship gods besides yourself?" Royce wondered at her. If he'd imagined meeting some dark god this isn't what his mind would have conjured.
She shrugged, the ease and simple confidence should have been grating but it wasn't. "No."
"Why seek me out here then?" Because it felt like it should be a threat, yet there was a distinct lack of hostility.
And she just grinned. "You wanted to talk to me." She seemed to finally fall serious. "And fair warning. Any of your knights think to attack me or mine and I'll boil them alive from the inside out." She flicked a finger, every candle's flame in the sept turning pure blue with heat with a wave of power before fading back to the warm reds and yellows of normal fire.
Lord Royce swallowed thickly, his heart beating faster in his chest. "My knights would never be so uncouth as to break guest rite." He knew exactly why this threat, the reports of the near assassination of the Queen had been chilling.
She softened again. "Then I think we'll be just fine."
And he had to wonder how true that was? He did find that he was deeply grateful that this creature was at least nominally on the same side as them. Surviving the army of the Dead might just be possible after all.
Notes:No rant this week, it's been a really long day. Also I binged Bridgerton this week and most of my thoughts are like tied up in that pixie stick candy of a tv show...which is trash, but fuck if I don't enjoy it. Also have hit chapter 81 in the drafts, so have no fear. Regular updates are safely assured.
Chapter 51Notes:I know I'm a proper adult because the sight of my well mown lawn filled me with inner peace and contentment. Clean dishes and a mown lawn are like cocaine to me now.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextSeth Watership was making his bed to the exacting standards of the Order when he heard his name called. Looking up he straightened at the sight of Joran. "Do ya need something?"
"Aye, you and Conin, get over here." Joran ordered before ducking back out of the dorms.
Seth glanced at Conin who just shrugged. The two of them finished making their beds as quickly as possible before trotting out after Joran. It was weird they were being called aside from the rest of the Order, but maybe their shifts on the walls were being changed up? He wasn't particularly worried. Order business tended to be endless reading and math lessons, combat lessons, and then various duties about Winterfell to ensure they weren't a burden on their hosts.
He straightened his jerkin slightly as they reached Joran's neat desk in the classroom above the dorms. "You said to get over here?" Which was nice, Joran might be prickly about living up and beyond their god's expectations, but he was the nicest person who'd ever bossed Seth about. Really following his orders was easy as breathing. Usually. Man was damned sadistic when it came to morning runs, but mornings, where Daisy joined their runs, were worse…she clearly forgot humans needed air.
"You two are going to be having new duties, Holiness's orders." Joran stood up, rocking a bit on his feet. "Course you're still in the Order, and I expect you to be at training and lessons when you can. But you'll be having duties separate from the rest of us from now on."
Seth's back straightened, his face flattening. But it was Conin who asked the question. "What duties?"
"You're being assigned to the new royal guard for the Starks." Joran leveled a serious glare at both of them. "So you'll be representing the rest of us, only non-nobility formally in the guard too. Best behavior, you're not just standing for us you're standing for her Holiness's regard for the Queen so don't fuck up."
His heart was pounding in his throat. "But why us?!" If his voice was strangled, well off course it was. He was the son of a farmer and up until the day Winterfell had shaken with their god's wrath he'd worn Bolton colors.
"Because you two are the best we have at wrestling and knife work." Joran's face furrowed. "Or I'm guessing that's why her Holiness picked you, figure that'd be good skills for guarding someone. But starting after the midday meal the two of you are reporting to Lady Brienne."
Conin's voice was slightly squeaky. "Do we still sleep here? Cause I heard the guard was getting it's own quarters?"
"Y'all always have a bed in the tower." Joran replied sharply. "You're part of us, and spending most of your time outside of the tower doesn't change that."
Seth breathed out slowly, under the relief that he wasn't being dismissed from his vows, and the fading panic was a thrum of pride so great he feared it might fill him up enough he'd float. "You really mean that? We get to serve in the royal guard? Even though we're well…us?"
Joran nodded. "Course the rest of us will keep an eye out and help fill out the usual ranks of the men at arms around the royal family. Can't let foreign bastards get too close to the Queen again."
They all shared a moment of solid understanding. Fuck the Stormlanders.
Joran continued. "And keep an eye on those Vale shites. Bloody cowards not showing up for a fight till now. Wouldn't trust 'em further than we can chuck 'em."
"We'll make the Order proud." Seth said firmly. And he meant it with his whole heart. He owed everything to their Queen and their god. "Do we need additional gear or are we just wearing what we have already?"
Joran shrugged. "I don't know, figure Lady Brienne'll know. Ask her, you're to meet her in the gods' wood. So far the guard is you two, that Tyrell knight, a couple of the Crannoman, a Wildling, one of the Hornwood knights, a Manderly man, that Stormlander knight her Holiness cleared of wrongdoing, and they were still talking about a couple of other men from Northern houses."
Seth frowned as he considered that. "So…knights from three of the seven kingdoms and well…sort of a bit of everyone in the North?"
"Sounds about like it." Conin hummed. "I don't like that Stormlander being allowed in."
Joran gave a solemn nod. "Keep an eye on him. He's never allowed alone with our Queen or the Prince. I don't care if anyone else gives you those orders or not. We don't allow it."
"Got it." Seth breathed in and then out. Who'd have thought, not even twenty years and he, the son of a farmer, was going to be part of a royal guard? It was crazy. But every bone in his body thrummed with pride. He wasn't going to let the Order or their god down. No matter what.
/////
Rickon blinked at the stack of paper on his section of the table in the workshop. It was all filled with neatly drawn out grids, and besides it was a breakdown of measurements and a bridge? He looked up at Fitz. "What's this?"
"You're new p-project." He stood up, his fingers twitching faintly as he stepped over. "You've progressed past just copying things." Fitz reached out ruffling his hair. "L-let's see what you can design kid."
And…Rickon beamed. "Really?"
"Yeah kid. I wrote down the distances and materials. D-design a bridge for the river and we'll go over it l-later." He gave him a final pat, handed him a quill, and then meandered back to whatever latest project had caught his fancy.
Rickon looked over at Crann who was giving him a gesture of congratulations. Nearly vibrating at the fact he was being allowed to actually do something other than simply copy notes, he carefully began to read the measurements and details Fitz had written out. He was going to do it perfectly!
His neck had a crick in it, his fingers coated in ink and his bridge looked…well it looked identifiably like a bridge but also made him want to curl under the table in shame. Alas Fitz snagged it from under his hands and made a vague sound while looking it over. Rickon kinda wanted the floor to open up and swallow him…maybe he could warg into Shaggydog and just stay in the wolf till his cheeks didn't feel so hot you could cook on them?
Fitz hummed. "Geometry pre-algebra….g-good start." He nodded looking back at Rickon. "We'll start with basic g-geometry tomorrow. In s-six months you can try again and we'll see how you've improved."
"I…so I wasn't supposed to do a good job?" Rickon frowned as he put that together. It'd been a test.
Fitz ruffled his hair. "Needed to know w-where you were."
"Did I do alright though?" Rickon checked, his cheeks still felt warm with humiliation.
The man huffed. "You're a beginner. But you're picking m-math very fast. Might get you to grade level in couple months. A-already have lab behavior down. You've got promise."
And well, Rickon puffed up in pride! Cause Fitz didn't compliment pretty much anyone, which means he meant it!
////
Jon stepped into his sister's solar, he was unsurprised to see Ghost laying by the hearth clearly soaking up the warmth, and based off his focus on Sansa, had been begging for scraps from her midday meal. Lazy furball. The wolfy smugness was practically wafting from the beast. It was almost enough to lighten his mood, almost.
Sansa looked up from what was certainly a legal document and clearly saw something on his face. "What's happened?"
"Sam wrote." He held out the small scroll of parchment to her. The words there both offered salvation while also being a death knell to them.
She took the message that had come by raven and read it. It was plain to see exactly when she'd understood the words on the parchment. She closed her eyes, lowering her hands, letting the parchment fall on the table. "Is there any hope he'll find another deposit of dragonglass?"
"Almost none." Jon replied, there was no point in lying.
"Well then." She looked at him, her blue eyes sharp. "Acquiring dragonglass is our only chance at survival."
He swallowed. "How do we get it? Dragonstone is within striking distance of the capital. The Lannisters control it. We'd need an army to hold it."
"We'd need more than an army to take it. Even if we turned every man we can call upon south…" She shook her head. "Three years, if we had three years we could take the Iron Throne, then send the complete armies of the south with dragonglass back to the Wall but…"
He was terrified that his sister thought they could take the iron throne in three years. "We might not have three years." Jon rubbed at his beard. "The snow by then will be too deep to move an army in the north besides."
"Which means it can't be our approach." Sansa just looked tired. "Even with Daisy…if the Tyrells were still in power we could ransom Loras back to them for dragonglass…I could even bend the knee to Tommen for dragonglass but with Cersei alone on the throne…"
"That's not possible." Jon finished for her.
She folded her hands, leaning back in her seat. It was several long minutes before she spoke again. "We have to invade Dragonstone. If we use our navy…it would destroy our new trade, rations would be necessary. We'd risk starvation. But we'd have a chance to survive."
"We'd need to depend on Daisy's goodwill as well. The knights of the Vale would need to turn around and head to their ports instead of coming here to aid against the dead." Jon just…they weren't prepared to fight all of Westeros and the dead at the same time. He looked at his sister. "Were you planning on invading the south once the dead were gone?"
She didn't look surprised by the question. "Yes, not for the iron throne, however." Sansa gave him a knowing look. "Without dragons holding all seven kingdoms together is impossible. If I was fortunate I might hold it for my lifetime, but no dynasty we founded would last long. But as the seven kingdoms fall there is an opportunity to secure more land, good farmland for our people. The Riverlands and the Vale could be brought under the Northern banner. Possessing the Riverlands would also give us access to southern trade." Her eyes hardened. "And I don't mean to allow House Frey to stand for a day longer than I must."
"If the south breaks apart how will it?" Jon asked, this was important. And he couldn't say his sister was wrong. Holding the Riverlands was both reclaiming their brother's kingdom, and the ability to grow food for longer, and more plentifully.
Sansa hummed thoughtfully. "The Vale, the Iron Islands, and Dorne will wish to be independent and have the geographical advantages to do so. The Stormlands and the Riverlands are too devastated to be ought else but contested lands for the rest to fight over. The Crownlands will be torn apart in the fighting between the Reach and the Westerlands to gain as much power as possible. If we took the Riverlands and the Vale we'd hold enough power for the others to avoid inciting war against us. Likely over several generations, we'd lose some of the Riverlands, but not all of it."
"And the Vale is the best location to stage an attack on the North." He was…terrified by the practicality of it all. And the boy Lord of the Vale was Sansa's cousin, the Lord of the Riverlands her uncle. Jon suddenly frowned. "The cost of the Vale bending the knee would be your marriage."
She gave a faint nod. "If he's not dead by then, likely to Baelish."
"Sansa!" Jon's jaw tightened. "No, you cannot marry that man!"
She didn't so much as flinch at his anger. "If it was necessary for our people I would." her head tipped slightly. "Though I don't intend to allow any such thing to occur. It would be more likely I'd need to marry a relative of Lord Royce's. But with dragonglass…we'll both need to marry to secure alliances in order to take Dragonstone."
He swallowed. "Who?"
"I don't know." She rubbed at her brow. "If I married Loras we might gain Tyrell support. You'd likely need to marry into the Crownlands. Rickon's betrothal would need to be called off so that he could be betrothed to a Vale girl. Although if we need a fleet…Theon has a sister we might negotiate a marriage to for you. It'll be months before we can begin the process of gaining allies for this."
Jon flinched at the thought of marrying Theon's sister. That was…that was terrible. "Would that work?" Because if it did…he'd do his duty.
She looked at him. "I don't know. Maybe? Even if we take Dragonstone, martial an army and mine for dragonglass…the time it'd require…the funds…we'd lose thousands of men and should we survive the dead after all that we'd be forced to turn and fight the south without pause."
"So it's impossible then?" Their army couldn't handle endless war like that. They'd be ground into the mud regardless of if they were able to eke out a victory in every battle.
Sansa breathed in slowly. "Can we kill them with fire? Is that possible?"
"I don't rightly know. We'd need oil, wildfire if we can get our hands on it." Jon considered that, if they turned every ditch, dug a hundred more, and filled them all with fire…. "Mayhaps we could do it."
She reached out pouring wine for both of them. "The oil wells in the marshes, if we start drawing everything out we possibly can, it'd require speaking to the Crannogman but we could pull several hundred barrels at least before the snows are too deep for travel."
"Aye, the small council might have some idea as well." Jon wet his lips. "I hate to ask, but Fitz might have some idea on making wildfire."
Sansa handed him a cup of wine. "That'll be a pleasant conversation. I'm sure you'll manage."
"That's fair." Frankly, Rickon was the only one who enjoyed Fitz. It wasn't surprising Sansa would dump the task of speaking with him on Jon. "We're giving up on dragonglass then?"
Sansa took a drink of her wine. "Unless someone has an idea that will not ruin us for acquiring it, it must be. We just don't have the time nor the manpower to acquire it. Even with marriages…I don't know how we'd manage it."
"Even just a single ship full of dragonglass…could we send a few ships, hope the men in Dragonstone lock themselves up behind their gates, leaving us to mine as much dragonglass as we can carry?" Jon knew he was desperate.
She hesitated. "We could try, however, the chances of death for all involved would be…it would be high."
"So we speak to our council and hope Davos has an idea." Jon drained his cup of wine. For every sign of hope, there needed to be a drastically terrible setback. It was like the gods hated them. If they didn't have very real proof that wasn't the case in Daisy's existence he doubted any man would doubt they were cursed.
Sansa let out a long sigh. "Indeed. For now, we need to map out what options we have for getting oil up from the marshes and into the far north as well as what routes that are at least…plausible for taking Dragonstone."
"I'll grab the map." He agreed though he felt it was a hopeless attempt.
////
Greatjon Umber stared at the men in Wyman Manderly's attached solar. "What's all this then?" Because Manderly and Glover were understandable, but that slimy fucker Baelish being there? Who, while Greatjon may be daft and thick as a board, even he, recognized the fact Jon Stark loathed the man, and Daisy had been ignoring him rather pointedly. That said all he needed to know on the subject. The knowledge of who exactly had brokered the marriage between Sansa and Ramsey just explained the behavior. It was more confusing the man hadn't been killed just walking through the gates of Winterfell than anything else. He'd certainly have wagered money on it if anyone had been stupid enough to take that bet. Or well smart enough considering the man still breathed.
"We need to discuss her Holiness's suit of our Queen." Lord Glover replied as he handed him a mug of ale.
Greatjon groaned as he accepted the ale. "Ah, that matter."
"Aye, that matter." Manderly took a long draw from his ale. "Needs to be spoken of plainly, even if we do nothing more about the whole thing."
Greatjon glared at Baelish. "What's that cunt doing here after what he did to her Grace?"
"I assure you no one regrets my involvement in Ramsey and her Grace's marriage more than I." Baelish cut in. "And seeing as my army is marching as we speak to aid the North, I have as much of a stake in the continued good health of our Queen as any man."
"Involvement?! You bloody well arranged the whole damn thing!" Glover snapped.
Baelish's hand flicked. "And if Stannis had won she'd have only need been married to him for a few short weeks before being placed perfectly to be the Stark of Winterfell. I failed to understand the depths of Ramsey's depravity and overestimated Stannis's chances."
"We're not here to assign blame." Manderly cut in. "We're here because our Queen is playing a dangerous game."
Baelish's lips quirked up. "Very dangerous one, but she's clearly playing it well."
"Look, I don't see how it's any of our business to stick our noses into whether she fucks the god or not." Glover crossed his arms. "Not like anyone would dare speak against it if she does. And if they do let her Holiness handle it. Wouldn't envy those fuckers. And if she doesn't fuck the god well, she's already got the god's favor. Don't think it matters."
Manderly took a draw from his ale, setting his mug down. "That's the problem. If our god gets tired of being turned down, our Queen could lose that favor. Even if it looks like she means to accept now, she hasn't done anything about it. Powerful people don't like being told 'no' or to wait."
"That's bullshit." Greatjon cut in, he hated every bit of this conversation. "Daisy isn't petty like that. She might give up her courtship, but she wouldn't punish the Queen for it."
Manderly swallowed carefully. "And if her Holiness's attention turns to someone else?"
And that…that brought Greatjon up. Because even he knew someone else receiving that type of power and wealth showered on them could be bad. And that was if Daisy stayed in the North. If she left for elsewhere it could benefit their enemies as easily as it'd benefited them.
"Fuck." Glover's frown darkened. "What can we do? Tell Ned Stark's daughter she needs to fuck a dark god for the good of the kingdom? I won't do it, and I won't be a party to it."
"No one is saying such blunt action is required." Baelish spoke, his oily voice irritating. "But encouraging things to move in a beneficial direction for both our Queen and the realm more actively is within our power."
Greatjon narrowed his eyes as he looked at the Vale Lord. "And how do you reckon we do that?"
"I find patience and delaying pleasure from those used to power is a dangerous practice." Baelish was far too smug.
Manderly clearly took his meaning. "Her Holiness has expressed a distaste for whores."
"Ah, but as a gift or as something to be sought out?" He leaned elegantly. "Everyone wants to feel powerful, desirable. Lovers who chose you without needing to be paid are good for the ego. If she chooses not to use the gift, that tells us more about her values and the esteem she holds her Grace in. Should she choose to accept such a gift, it perhaps will delay her losing patience at the length of her courtship. And a gift is unlikely to cause insult, after all, she must be accustomed to mighty gifts."
Greatjon had heard Daisy's thoughts on prostitutes. And frankly seen her face while looking at Sansa Stark. This plot would go terribly. It might even get Lord Baelish removed from the court if she took it badly enough. "What else? We can't just send a couple of whores to her Holiness and hope it'll settle things."
"We need Jon to support the courtship." Manderly declared. "If her Grace will listen to anyone it's her brother."
Lord Glover humphed. "Suppose that's for me and you then?" He looked at Greatjon with a weary acceptance.
"Aye, sounds like a job for us." Greatjon accepted they'd be getting the Lord Hand drunk as a skunk to encourage his brotherly objections to fade. "Least he likes her Holiness. Think he's one of the only blokes brave enough to touch her outside the sparring ring." It was going to be a disaster. He couldn't wait.
Notes:Ok so you guys know how in s8 they pulled the bullshit of like trying to hold up a mirror to the audience and being like 'look at you, don't you feel bad for rooting for a monster like Dany, you should have known, but you were so caught up in the hype you missed it'. Which is just insulting cause she was like not a monster till really atrocious writing in s8. So it's an invalid thing to ask because Dany was no more flawed than any other noble and heroic leader character in the show. Within the context of her world, she was one of if not the most humanitarian of the characters in positions of power. The most cringe thing about her storyline was the deeply problematic colonization and white savior crap. Which was not good. But that wasn't an in-universe flaw. She wasn't a character on a character arch where a beloved character becomes a monster.
But you know who was? The character who should have been used to make the audience question just how far they were willing to go to defend a monster out of love? Fucking Arya! Arya, who after the end of s1 was killing a lot of people. And getting colder and colder. The kid who was slowly becoming more and more psychopathic? Who went and joined an order of cold-blooded assassins? Like she was getting off on the power and blood from her murders. If that storyline had continued to play out how it was set up to before it went off the rails, would have likely seen those traits and that darkness growing and beginning to keep showing towards more people. People it would get harder and harder to justify her murdering. Arya is your character that should be asking the question of the audience of how dark a character can go and the audience will stay loyal.