Chapter 58Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextErek Hogg stared at his god, unable to form words. Instead, his mouth just opened and closed witlessly. His heart thumped in his chest.
"I take it you weren't expecting the title?" Her Holiness had a fond expression as she looked at him with far too much faith.
He dropped to his knees. "It's too much."
"It's exactly what you've earned. And I wouldn't leave the Order under anyone else while I'm gone. Of course, you'll answer to the Queen and her council, and it's not like I'm giving you total control or anything. Duncan will be in charge of the learning and accounting for the Order, and Thatcher and when possible Ser Brienne will be running the physical training." Her Holiness laid a hand on his shoulder. "Seriously, breathe. You're going to do great, I believe in you."
Hogg couldn't do anything but nod dumbly. "It's an honor...but surely Joran or...someone else would be better? I'm just the son of a farmer!"
"Joran is great, also kinda running around as a representative for the Order diplomatically." Daisy patted his shoulder. "You're going to be fine."
It was...he just...it was the most terrifying and wonderful moment of his life. Such terrible faith and approval. He straightened his spine, a tremble to his voice. "I'll do my best to make you proud in all things, your Holiness."
"I know." She smiled, squeezing his shoulder. "Come on, you and Duncan are going to need to learn what information is important to pass on to Sansa, and what isn't."
He nodded, his half bobbling as he tripped over himself to follow her. His cheeks were a bright red at the stumble. Out of kindness, his god didn't comment.
Hogg stared at the large and neatly divided chests of information. All the various bits of information the Order recorded on the paper Fitz made. Admittedly all but the most official of letters and forms were written out on the paper made by the Smith touched mad man. "How'd ya reckon we do this?"
"It's...well I suppose by House or region?" Duncan replied from where he was leaning against his crutches. The long list of various methods of organizing information that their god had given them in his hand.
Hogg nodded, that was something. He was barely literate now, let alone capable enough of doing much to aid in this. But it was his duty now. "Region, and then House might be safer?"
"Dedicate a chest to each region of the North, one to each southern kingdom, and..well, one for Winterfell specifically?" Duncan offered, his brow furrowed in thought. "The problem is we'll expand past what can fit in a single chest quite fast the larger our order gets and the better at writing everyone becomes…" He made a rumbling sound under his breath.
Hogg opened one of the chests. "Do you think this might be a test?"
"What, like how Fitz did with Prince Rickon?" Ducan looked up, sudden hope on his face.
He nodded, warming to the idea. "So we just 'ave to prove we're not terrible. Think about it."
"Still need to prove ourselves though, don't we?" Duncan ran a hand through his hair.
Hogg's shoulders slumped…breathing in he squared himself. "Right, so what'd ya need me to do to help? I'm not that great at my letters yet."
"You're better than at least half the others." Duncan gave him a tight smile.
The two of them looked at the work before them. Well, they best get to it and hope they didn't disappoint their patron god. They had information to categorize by topic and date.
////
Ser Jasper Redfort of the Vale frowned as the scout they'd sent ahead came skidding into the command tent, gasping for breath, eyes wide, inaudible words trying to come out of his mouth. He frowned. "By the gods, take a breath before you pass out man."
"News from the Twins then?" Lord Redfort, his father's eyes narrowed as he looked at the scout. "If those weasels intend to marshal an army against our attempt to ford the river we'll give them battle. Fucking cowards the lot of them."
The scout shook his head, half bent over, gasping for air still.
Ser Jasper grabbed a waterskin and offered it to the man. "Let the man get some air in so he can answer." He turned his attention to Ser Edmund Waxley, his father Lord of his House already at Winterfell, surely this could not be typical?
The respected Lord was focused on the scout. "Just nod, are the Frey's marching for us?"
Shaking his head, the scout looked up, his hands still resting on his knees. "The Freys….. are dead."
"What?!"
Ser Jasper had felt like his skin was crawling as he rode at the head of the great Vale force through the gates of the Twins. The banners had been lowered. In the courtyard, some twenty Lannister soldiers had stood, their weapons on the ground. A smattering of servants and women standing around. They all had haunted terrified eyes. The sense of wrongness had prickled at the back of his neck.
The process of the Lannister men surrendering was quick and to the point. They were no one of consequence, but Queen Sansa might want them. So to the North, they would be brought. From there it had been a matter of course to pull aside the former Lady Frey for questioning on what cursed thing had happened here.
He'd drawn the short straw as his father's son. Thus he stood before the girl. And she was a girl, newly widowed or not. Sitting in the dingy and damp room were also some female servants and a few girls who were likely Frey bastards. Not that he particularly cared. The House's Septon and Master were in attendance also, as well as several Lords of the Vale there to hear what report would be given.
"Where is the Lord and sons of this House?" He looked at the frightened features of the girl who'd been wed to Lord Walder.
She shook, her skin pale. "Dead. The Faceless man killed them all."
The sense of dread rose. The short hairs against his neck rose. "Surely not, that order is a legend."
"I speak true m'Lord!" The girl looked up with faint terror. "I saw it with mine own two eyes! One moment all the men were toasting to their victories, and then the next the poison took them as they died, foaming at the mouths. Lord Walder just stood there, smiling. And then he reached below his chin and peeled his face off."
Ser Jasper didn't want to ask. "Who was under his face?"
"A girl, young and cold and small. The face wasn't all that changed, she was dwarfed by his clothes then, and she spoke to me. Her voice was death." The girl shook. No matter what had occurred this girl believed what she said.
The servants and men of learning here present, not disagreeing, sent another cold shiver down his spine. "What did she say?"
"As Lord Walder she listed their crimes. The men were dying, clutching their throats as they died, and Lord Walder said they hadn't killed all the Starks. That the sheep aren't safe if a wolf still lives."
The girl swallowed, her eyes widening as she then continued. The tremor in her hands near stilling. "When they were dead, and she no longer wore Lord Walder's face she looked at me. She was peaceful and she said 'When people ask you what happened here, tell them the North remembers. Tell them that Winter came for House Frey.' Then she left. Stole a horse on her way out."
"If I may, good Ser?" The Maester spoke softly from his seat, waiting for a nod to continue. "We found a body we believe to have been Lord Walder stuffed into a chest. And the meat pie on the tables was…"
"You believe? Surely you could recognize your Lord?" Ser Jasper wouldn't grieve for the Freys. He'd have been honored to slay them for their crimes. But this...this sent chills to his bones.
The Maester swallowed. "The face had been removed." He looked positively nauseous then. "The meat pies at the feast, we were able to discover the meat was the meat of Lord Frey's two eldest sons."
"The heirs of House Frey were fed to their kinsman?" Jasper...what madness…
The older Lord of the Vale spoke then. "The Rat Cook, the Northern tale of the man who broke guest rite and was punished by being fed his own sons after being turned to a rat."
"The poison used was the same as was used on King Joffrey." The Maester replied.
Ser Jasper opened and then shut his mouth. "Are you saying her grace, Sansa Stark, is indeed guilty of poisoning the mad butcher of a King? Then hired a faceless man to do the same to House Frey after forcing them to enact the dark warnings of the old gods?"
"Well….yes." The Maester replied.
////
Daisy ruffled Lyanna Mormont and Rickon's hair as she found them arguing in quiet hisses in a corner of the stable. "So what are you two little monsters up to?"
"Nothing!" Rickon straightened, the shifty avoiding of eye contact and fidgeting didn't suit him.
Lyanna elbowed him in the gut. "Did you require something, your Holiness?"
"Smooth kid, now fess up." She crossed her arms and stared them down. If she didn't intervene they were likely to end up with a burnt down stable or something equally terrible.
Rickon cracked first. "It's just-"
He wheezed as Lyanna whacked him in the gut again. Her face was set in stone. "We're just fine."
"Huh, huh." Daisy glanced at the large bucket of horse shit, and then back to the kids. "So not planning on doing anything with the poop?" She ignored Rickon, he was more scared of Lyanna than her. Which was probably smart. Instead, she just held the gaze of the tiny little Lady filled with sheer spite.
Lyanna's eye twitched. "Political action."
"Against whom?" Daisy raised an eyebrow.
Rickon side-stepped away from Lyanna. "Lord Waxley of the Vale."
"Very punchable face, I get it." Daisy tilted her head faintly. "Why are you…what are you doing to him with the poop?"
Lyanna's chin tipped up. "I suggest we leave it in front of his door."
"Which is dumb. We should cut open his mattress, stuff it in, and then sew it back up." Rickon huffed while rolling his eyes.
Daisy barely kept from snorting outright. "And what did Lord Waxley do that has brought this upon himself? Cause he's got a froggy face, but that's not normally enough for declaration of war."
"He implied my opinion is not needed as I lack the experience of the older Lords. As if I'm not as good a Lady of my lands as any man." She was practically spitting with fury.
Which…well that'd do it. "And Sansa let that happen?" Cause the idea of Sansa permitting one of her northern Lords to be demeaned by any of their new allies was actually confounding.
"He wouldn't dare." Lyanna's eyes narrowed further. "He was very polite in the hallways, but his meaning was clear."
"Ah, makes sense." Daisy nodded, honestly the way grown-ass men underestimated kids was staggering. "So, have you considered doing both?"
"Both?" Both kids replied looking confused.
She nodded. "It gives you cover for if you get caught. And means he's more likely to sleep on the mattress with the shit in it if he thinks the lingering smell is from the bucket in front of his door." Daisy smiled faintly at the mischievous glee on their faces. "However, you'd be proving him right if you do that."
"That is…" Lyanna's jaw twitched. "Correct, that is correct."
Daisy rolled her eyes at the sudden angst. "Or you could get him back where it hurts."
"You mean stab him?" Rickon asked, his face confused.
She shook her head. "I mean none of the Vale guys know how the heck to deal with the cold. Have you considered sending him gloves, or a cloak or something with a snide note? It's polite, and makes our point."
Both of the kids' eyes were bright and sharp as they looked at her curiously.
An hour later a fur cloak had been acquired from the new stores being made for the men. Neatly pinned to it was a note that Lyanna had written out with painstakingly careful strokes of her quill.
-"Lord Wexly,
Since you are so newly arrived in the North I thought it best to correct your lack of preparation for the climate. Assuredly it was the simple forgetfulness of age, as no doubt you possess the needed wisdom required to know that winter is cold.
Lady Mormont"-
Daisy wrapped an arm around Rickon's shoulders as she read the note. "Now, who wants to see how we can coordinate Shaggydog into your sparring?" Cause giant ass wolf the size of a small horse was going to turn the two kids from dangerous together to deadly as fuck. This world wasn't kind, not that any world was really. But she could give them tools that might help them.
Daisy kept her muted horror hidden as she stared at dinner. Medieval food was…well she'd mostly adjusted to it. Actually, it was the best food she'd consistently had access to…probably ever. However, she realized then that she hadn't been prepared. That was a whole ass pig…its head was still there. Dinner shouldn't stare at you! It was just…oh god she was going to have to eat that to be polite. They wouldn't give her a piece of its face right? Please?
She wanted to die. Her smile felt plastic as a slice of, not the face! was set on her plate. Daisy glanced at Sansa who was beside her. "Is this a normal way of preparing food? I don't' think I've seen it before."
"Certainly for a feast, though why the cooks chose this presentation tonight you'd need to ask the new Lady Flint." Sansa had the faintest flicker of curiosity peaking out.
Daisy knew her smile wasn't fooling Sansa. Shit. "Just new." She grabbed the weird fork and knife and began to cut her meat….cause she was going to have to eat it now.
The fact the meat was delicious, only slightly helped the faint nausea she felt being able to see the face of the animal she was eating. At least no one tried to give her the apple in the poor pig's mouth?
"The way you describe food from your home is always curious to me." Sansa shook her head as she cut her own meal.
Daisy could have cried at the thought of take out…god Chinese… curry or sushi…pizza! She'd do terrible things for a fucking pizza. Glorious preservatives. "You know, I think if you ate any of it you'd get like…really sick."
"But you ate human food?" Sansa asked.
She laughed. "Yes, it was human food. But if you're not used to the ingredients it'd make you sick" Daisy frowned… "Kind of like how if you're not used to spices eating something with a lot of spices is kinda terrible? Although there were these puffy things we ate that weren't poisonous but Jemma, Davis, and I were so high from that."
Lord Royce asked, his tone specifically respectful. "What is high, your Holiness?"
"Have you ever seen someone whose had far too much of your milk of the poppy? Or I guess so much sugar they can't sit down? Kind of drunk, only a bit different?" Daisy wasn't sure how to explain LSD to these people.
Several men laughed at that. Lord Baelish, the asshole prodded for more. "This sounds like quite the tale, your Holiness?"
"Uh yeah, it was like the day before I ended up here actually." Daisy blinked, it was funny, it felt like it'd happened so much longer ago than that. "Fitz's wife Jemma and I were trying to find him, and we ended up on a system called Kitson. Which, you'd have felt right at home there Lord Baelish; Kitson was basically one big slave, gambling, and brothel collective on the edges of the stars where the various godly courts mostly could ignore it. Or I suppose quietly profit off it."
Lord Baelish's eyes were sharp, he knew she was a threat to him. Good. Paying attention to her meant he wasn't paying as close of attention to Sansa. "Ah, interesting the gods would have the same flaws as mortals."
"People are just people, god or human or something in between." Daisy had always known that. "But well, we found a freighter Fitz had been on, so we knew he'd ended up there. Best hope was he'd gotten sent to the gambling house and not the brothels. But while we were on the freighter there were these edible puffy snacks. And Davis, our pilot, started eating them. He ate like five or more of the things, Jemma and I only had one a piece. Tasted fine. Then well, just walking down the stairs to the gambling house was almost impossible."
Daisy snickered. "It was like the colors were alive, ground swaying, everything felt hilarious. Completely forgot why we were there by the time we managed to get into the bar. Very bright and colorful drinks. Very blue. I think at one point Jemma and I were under a table crying at each other? Course before we sobered up shit happened and Jemma wandered off, actually found Fitz, and I ended up in a bar brawl…not sure why. But I won, so yay?" She shrugged. "Then it was just a mess of chasing people around before Chromicoms for some reason started attacking us? A portal weapon got chucked at Fitz, I threw Jemma out of the way, grabbed Fitz to block the explosion from hitting him, and then I was breaking out of a tree."
"You put your own body between danger and a human, even one blessed by a different god that is…fascinating." Lord Baelish's smarmy face was looking at her like he'd been handed a piece of valuable information.
Daisy knew her smile was mean. "The Kree tried to use the humans I care about to keep me from killing them. It worked for a matter of days. They were the gods who created my kind and they didn't die well."
"Most admirable of you." Lord Baelish gave her a tilt of the head. He'd gotten the threat. Good, she meant it.
Daisy touched Sansa's hand under the table, she could half feel the discomfort she felt every time Baelish opened his mouth. "Tell me Lord Baelish, why isn't a man of your standing married already? I mean if Umber managed to get a woman to marry him..."
Umber snorted hard from his seat. "That's cold, your Holiness."
She lifted her cup to her mouth, though her eyes didn't leave Baelish.
"I am afraid I have been married to my duty to the realm for these long years." He tipped his head towards her. "Once the Dead are gone perhaps I will be able to find a wife."
Daisy knew she could make him squirm more, but pushing him too hard was counterproductive, he had to think he might actually get somewhere with her. So after a slight pause, she switched her attention to where Tormund was gnawing on a chicken leg. "What about you Tormund? Are you married? I've heard all about your daughters but not a wife."
The air rushed out of Daisy's lungs as Sansa kissed her the second the door closed behind them. She barely faltered, just melting into it. Humming, she pulled back. "Are you planning on just ambushing me every time? Cause I have to say I'm not complaining."
Sansa's cheeks were faintly pink, but she didn't pull away. "You're ridiculous."
"Well, yeah." Daisy's lips quirked up as she smiled up at her. "But I'm getting the idea you like that."
Notes:So in the ASOIAF fandom there's a theory called Jojen Paste, and like..I agree and think its totally a thing. So Jojen Reed is like a magical guide to Bran Stark who helps him get North. And Jojen is always like 'I don't die here, I've seen my death' and thus like does not give a shit about scary things, which is hilarious. But anyways, in the show, he gets stabbed and then blown up...which is uh...weird and dumb. And also he survives past that part in the books. But in the books he gets real weird and twitchy and depressed in the magic tree caves, and he's just...not around for a while. And then Bran gets fed a weird red weirwood paste that gives psychic magic visions.
So uh, A. Unknown cannibalism is a thing in Bran's story. Its already happened. B. We know human sacrifice, and blood is used to give power to magical abilities. C. We know King's blood, the blood of magicals is especially powerful. D. Jojen's kinda missing after being depressed and twitchy like he might have known his death was coming. So the theory is Jojen got shanked, and is being fed to Bran to further entwine Bran magically with the weirwoods. And uh...i think it makes a whole lot of sense, and also the paste is described as being kinda red, like blood. And also seems like the kind of freaky, dark, magical bullshit Martin would write, and D&D would look at and go '....let's blow that plot point up so we don't have to do it'. So like I'd put it at a solid 80-90% chance of it being an actual thing in the books.
Chapter 59Notes:Yo!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextSansa wasn't sure what woke her up. Even later she wouldn't be able to put her finger on it. All she knew is that one minute she was asleep, and the next she was cracking her eyes open in the dark of her chambers. She blinked groggily in the dark before sitting up. Everything was exactly as it should be. The only light in the room was from the embers in the hearth. It was quiet..but Sansa frowned.
She let out a beleaguered sigh..she wasn't going to be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Not with a vague paranoid unease that was apparently utterly displaced. Well, there were letters to be responded to from Essos and a series of plans for the building of grain silos to write. It was...and beyond that, she felt an instinctive pull. The only comfort was at least she wasn't fearful, just paranoid.
Slipping out of bed she grabbed a wrap, pulling it over her shift. With quiet feet, she padded out of her bedchamber and into the attached solar. It'd long been the Lord's solar, but with how much business she was required to do she'd not wanted half the court tromping into the family wing. Thus the newly named and set aside for its new use, King's Solar down below. The division of public and private was useful. Honestly, why no one had done it earlier she didn't know.
Closing the door behind her she stilled. The room was brighter than it should be. Sansa breathed out more than spoke. "Daisy?"
Because sitting in front of a stocked fire was Daisy. She was sitting half curled on the carpet. Her arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees. At her entrance, Daisy had looked up, she seemed to hesitate faintly before raising a hand in greeting. "Hey."
Sansa's brow furrowed ever so lightly. But...she was concerned. There was an air to the other woman that wasn't...typical. It was nearly melancholy. "Has something happened?"
"What? Oh no. I wasn't thinking and just kinda ended up here. Sorry…." Daisy frowned. "Is that creepy? I don't know if that's creepy or not."
Sansa paused...she wasn't sure either. Brushing off the thought off she lowered herself down onto the rug beside Daisy, their sides touching. "Do you wish to speak about whatever it is that brought you here?"
Daisy didn't reply, just staring into the fireplace for the longest time.
It was...peaceful in its own way. Sansa quietly leaned against her paramour. If she didn't wish to speak it was fine. She could draw the conclusion of nightmares. It was...it filled her with a warmth that Daisy had come to her. Some faint doubts of what exactly she meant to the other woman settled. Because Daisy seeking her out when haunted by whatever ghosts in her past were lingering tonight, meant something.
Daisy's voice was quiet, a faint crack. "Did you know my mom tried to kill me?"
Sansa's eyes widened, as she turned to look at Daisy's profile in horrified silence. What was there even to say to that?
"Her gift was life. I don't actually know how old she was. I think...I think she was a good person once but it was cut out of her. The elders of our people would give their last years to her so that she could go on. For them to do that she had to have been good?"
And...there was grief in Daisy's voice as she spoke. So Sansa reached out, laying a hand on her knee. "What was she like?"
"Beautiful, her voice was soft and warm. The type of person who just sounds wise. She had scars across her face from when...well our family was ripped apart. But they...suited her. I only knew her for a handful of days." Daisy swallowed. "And then everything went wrong and SHIELD and our people were on the brink of war and I was stuck in between. Then SHIELD attacked and it was war, only it was a lie. She faked it to justify the genocide of the human race." Daisy scoffed. "Who does that? Respond to a single threat with genocide?"
Daisy was still staring into the fire, the light flickering across her skin. "I didn't even realize what was happening till I saw her killing Raina. Raina was complicated…could see the future and covered in thorns like a plant hedgehog person or something." Her lips pulled up. "We don't all look human you know? Gordon didn't have eyes."
"I…had assumed you all looked human." Sansa admitted which was..fascinating to think of actually. It was so easy to forget just how inhuman Daisy was sometimes. Though she was coming to realize Daisy constantly was vibrating ever so faintly if you touched her firmly enough to notice.
Daisy shook her head. "No, my dad was hoping I'd have wings actually. He'd be…very smug if he knew I'd figured out how to fly with my powers. I think it's the freedom of it he wanted for me. The scarier powers like mine hurt us." She reached up, her hand touching her own neck. "This is how my mom fed on the life of others. I…I could feel my life being drained. She wasn't going to stop. I'd thought…well it doesn't matter what I'd thought. She was going to wipe out billions and I couldn't let her. I would have killed her to stop her."
"But you didn't." Sansa tightened her hand on Daisy's knee.
"No, my dad did so I wouldn't have to." Her voice cracked. "Sometimes I still dream of what it felt like…the agony of dying, the look on her face when she decided."
Sansa lifted her arm and wrapped it around Daisy's shoulders, pressing their sides tightly together. Because of all the pain, she'd experienced she'd always been able to hold onto the love her family had for her. And she knew there was nothing to be said that made the pain less. She wondered what words to say to that? If there were she didn't know them.
Daisy spoke finally, a thickness to her voice. "Sorry, I haven't had that nightmare in…a while."
"You have nothing to apologize for." She replied firmly. "I am grateful for the love my parents gave us, but no one's family is perfect."
Daisy looked at her, something like amusement on her face. "Oh, besides being terrible at politics, what flaws did they have?"
"They believed in a world that didn't exist." Sansa paused, putting her thoughts together. "I'd known that, but overseeing Rickon's lessons I think I've realized just how true that is. We were raised for a life like one in the songs. A world where honor, justice, and nobility weren't just ideals but the truth of it. I was taught everything needed to run the North you know. Math, the logistics of food storage, support for an army, noble houses, so many detailed pieces of information. I was taught everything I needed to know to increase the iron brought in, the fuel increases, all of it so that our forges can run day and night. I wouldn't be surprised if Father saw that we were the most practically educated children in the seven kingdoms."
Daisy nudged her slightly. "You are kinda terrifyingly brilliant."
"That's.." She swallowed back any argument about her intelligence. Instead, she just leaned back into the contact, a faintly pleased thrum in her chest. "And mother..well I was the only one of us who cared for her lessons. But dance, embroidery, manners, music, I was never the lesser of any lady in the south at any of the court graces. All of that, and I was an idiot, left utterly vulnerable once I reached court."
Daisy's brown eyes were focused on her fully. "How so?"
"I was…horribly naive. I didn't know the dangers, the cruelty, or selfishness. None of it. I gave the Lannisters everything they needed to take my father and I thought I was making sure nothing silly would ruin everything. I lied to protect my betrothed's honor and put my sister in danger and my direwolf was killed. I risked allowing Loras to court me in hopes it would allow me to escape, only to draw attention to myself, and was forced to marry Tyrion instead. I didn't understand the stakes, the way rumor or power itself worked."
"You were a kid." Daisy gently protested.
Sansa refused to allow the excuse. "And yet they sent me to court, to become the Queen. I was unprepared to be sent as betrothed for anything greater than a minor Lord and I was sent to be Queen. The last thing my father gifted me was a doll. I was betrothed, nearly of age to bleed and be wed and he gifted me a doll."
She ached at the reminder of that doll. While she'd hated it upon receiving it'd become her dearest possession. "I couldn't have spotted the snakes from the grass. I was on the brink of death and worse. The worse is what terrifies me. And I look at my brother who won every battle, had every justification and claim to justice, who lost. He lost allies, was beset by betrayal, lost the North itself. I never spoke to my brother after we left Winterfell. But I can look at what he did, and I can see his mistakes, his trust in the better nature of men, his rigid honor, and I see how he died. Even if he had not been murdered at the Red Wedding he never could have won. He was too hard, had too much faith, and lacked imagination for betrayal. Things he should have known. We are of the North, it was never our way, and yet…it hamstrung us."
"I don't think anyone is truly ready when they're left to the world to sink or swim. But the world can always get darker. No one is ready for how dark it can get." Daisy frowned. "But it's not just that. It's got some pretty awesome shit in it too."
Sansa couldn't help the laugh she let out at that. "You might be one of the most idealistic and noble people I've ever met." She leaned back poking at Daisy's arm. "You hide it under just all the horrible things, and the fact you can kill anyone any time you wish. But you believe in all those ideals that we all scoff at for being childish."
"Do I?" Daisy was smiling then. "Rude, but can't really argue that." She had a spark to her as she spoke. "I guess what's the point of having power and not making the world a better place with it? Sometimes being different means making a difference."
And Sansa was charmed by her. "How are you real?"
"I'm not unusual, people like me just tend to die. Which, I did kinda die like…twice-ish now?" Daisy snorted. But then she swayed forward, bumping her forehead gently against Sansa's. "You do know you're not stupid?"
She looked away from Daisy. "If I and my people are to survive I need to be better."
"And you think I'm 'noble'." Daisy reached out cupping her cheek and pulling her attention back to her. "You're a far better person than you give yourself credit for."
Sansa leaned into the hand on her cheek. "As are you."
Daisy's face flickered as she pulled back. "You know I've broken almost every one of your people's taboos? Guest rite, kinslaying, murder, I've done a lot of terrible things."
"I'm sure, likely more than I know about." Sansa wondered how to explain it properly. She knew she as well as her people had recognized that Daisy was something great but also dark. "Although unless I'm mistaken you just explained how you weren't guilty of kinslaying."
Daisy's face was dangerous then. "I'm related to the Kree. I don't like the Kree very much. Especially the fuckers who made my species." The danger flickered away as if it'd never been then. It left nothing but grief. "And what is ripping the mind out of my dad's head but killing him? He's alive but he's not really my dad anymore. Everything that made him, him, is gone."
"I'm sorry." Sansa ached for her paramour. Because she knew how very deeply Daisy had to have loved her father from what little she'd said about him. The way she spoke of him now.
Daisy stared at her. "How is it that you've never been scared of me?"
"What are you talking about?" Sansa was confounded by that. "I have been terrified of the power you hold, of what you might want for months. I didn't even begin to think of you as an ally until Barrowtown! And I know you are aware of that, no matter how much effort I put into not acting terrified."
Daisy laughed, genuine affection there. She leaned in kissing her lightly, a simple brush of the lips before pulling back. Her smile was warm and full as she looked at her. "You were scared of the threat I posed, not of me. Do you know how rare that is? You cared about what I might do, not what I was."
That…Sansa stared at Daisy's face. "You do know when Theon and I murdered Ramsey it was because we thought you were going to kill us anyway?"
"Well yeah." Daisy shrugged but reached up cradling her face once more. "You're what I'd normally call abnormally paranoid, though in your case appropriate level of paranoia. And then you got stuck with me. I could turn Winterfell to dust in minutes if that, and that's not even touching the level of chaos I could cause, and am frankly deeply confused I haven't accidentally caused with the Order. Cause ya know, the whole philosophical argument of whether I'm a god or not which…just the title there is power. I'm kinda shocked you never did try to stab me."
She blinked. "Oh." That implied a great deal of how the humans Daisy was used to perceived her.
Daisy nodded, her thumb running along Sansa's cheek, her hand staying warm and there against her. "It means a lot." Her lips twitched. "Also you took your brother having a magic mind link thing with a horse-sized wolf-like so fast. And the giant, and general animal mind link thing that is a thing for the Free Folk."
"What I've come to accept as possible in the last year is horrifying." Sansa really ought to have paid more attention to Old Nan and her tales since they were all apparently coming true. If ghosts ended up being a threat she was going to scream.
Daisy just looked so incredibly fond. And then she was leaning in and kissing her again. Only this time it was slow and purposeful.
Sansa breathed out with a sigh, her eyes fluttering closed. She didn't care that this was doomed to hurt her when it ended. This window of affection was worth what it would inevitably cost her when Daisy returned to her own world. No matter how uncertain and fumbling she felt because for seconds even moments she felt as if she was in free fall.
Sansa woke up for the second time more peacefully. Sunlight was on her face, and she was content. Her arms were wrapped around a still sleeping Daisy, her nose buried in Daisy's hair. She huffed as she realized she had hair in her mouth that wasn't hers. Pulling back she shook her head, that was…actually disgusting. She was smiling despite that. Rolling onto her back she noted her poor maidservant tending to the fire.
"How late is it?" She asked, resigned to the mortification of being utterly naked and in bed with Daisy while her poor servant was there…again.
Poor Sera looked up with an irritatingly amused glint in her eye from where she was stocking the fire. "Later than is custom for you, your Grace. But early still."
Daisy made a vague sound of protest. "Morning people."
"You always wake early?" Sansa asked as she sat up, holding the blankets against her chest while looking down at Daisy.
Daisy cracked an eye open. "Because May was evil and insisted on morning training and its habit. Not cause I like it." She rolled onto her back. "My clothing is still in your office, solar thing aren't they?"
"Sera, please retrieve her Holiness's clothing after you're done with the fire." Sansa couldn't help the hint of laughter in her voice.
Her poor maidservant tipped her head before scurrying into the solar to retrieve said clothing.
Sansa slipped out of bed, easily lifting a fresh slip from her chest of linens, and pulled it over her head. She looked behind her back at where Daisy was laying in the bed still. "You're going to leave for White Harbor soon aren't you?"
"Tomorrow." Daisy agreed, yawning. "I'll come back to check in on you as soon as everyone is settled in Dragonstone."
She could understand trying to find a boat at sea while flying was probably difficult. Also that Daisy simply dropping into Dragonstone unannounced could go very badly. It didn't change that she was loath to lose Daisy so soon after Jon had left as well. There was no point to argue against a plan she'd already agreed to. Especially when her dislike of it was entirely personal and selfish. "I'll finish my letters for Jon before tonight then."
"Are you ok?" Daisy sat up, ignoring her lack of dress. "Cause you got this, you've had it."
Sansa shook her head. "It's not that." She stepped back to the bed taking Daisy's hand. "I've said goodbye to a great many people, and seen very few of them again. I know you will come back, and that your presence means that Jon will come back. But it does not change that the last four Stark men to go south were murdered. And murdered badly."
"Ah." Daisy pulled her back down onto the bed, kissing her firmly. She pressed their foreheads together, brushing Sansa's hair behind one ear. "I'll be dropping in with updates before you know it. 'Sides, if it goes bad I'll just drag Jon back and you can see him puke. Flying does not agree with him."
She breathed out, allowing herself to soak up the strength offered. It was so incredibly dangerous to do so. But then if she was going to trust anyone besides her blood it might as well be a god. She was being ridiculous, she knew she was. "Thank you."
"Hey, Jon's a cockroach. He'll be fine." Daisy teased gently.
Sansa knew it was too late to just push Daisy back into the bed no matter how much she wanted to. She had duties and obligations, not least of which a younger brother she'd promised to discuss the Stark family histories with. "Will you come tonight?"
"Yeah." Daisy brushed a light kiss against the corner of her lips before pulling away and sliding to her feet. "Sorry Sera." She grabbed her clothing from the bright, apple red, maid servant's arms.
Sansa gave in and pinched the bridge of her nose. "My apologies."
"It's nothin' your Grace, your Holiness!" the poor woman squeaked.
////
Daisy slipped into Fitz's workshop. "Crann, is it finished?"
"Of course!" Crann grinned while jogging over to her and handing her a small leather pouch. "I told ya I could bribe one of the smith's into letting me use their tools for it!"
She laughed as she double checked the contents were what she'd asked for. Good, it'd offer some measure of protection to Sansa. "Finally dropped the Holiness address?"
"Well, figured I should do as you command." He grinned. Which, definitely the effect of the two people he spent the most time with being Fitz and Rickon.
"Daisy!" Fitz looked up from the plans he'd been working on. He blinked. "What're you doing here? Not that t-that's a bad thing."
She rolled her eyes. "Just grabbing something I had Crann have made for me. Think you'll survive without me here for a month?"
"Oh, you leaving today?" His stutter was nearly gone when he spoke now.
Daisy hopped up onto the workbench looking at him. "Tomorrow. Try not to insult anyone while I'm gone."
"I think the only one I've insulted terribly since I got here is you." He said surprisingly dryly. "I made something for you." He tossed her a shiny piece of metal.
She caught it easily and frowned. It was…a metal Y? "What is it?"
"It's a t-tunning fork. Might be able to figure out sound waves or something." Fitz sighed. "Please try not to get eaten by a dragon."
Daisy snorted, and it was…it was better than she'd have excepted her and Fitz to ever really get to again. "No promises."
"Well, that's not comforting." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've drawn up a printing press design. Sure they'll figure it out after the whole zombie business is over with."
She gave a nod. "Baelish will approach you while I'm gone."
"I can deal with that weasel." Fitz looked actively insulted.
Which, point. If a professional spy ever failed to spot what Baelish was on first sight they didn't deserve to be called a spy. "He's not incompetent."
"Oh sure, just no idea how to handle you," Fitz grunted. "And it's like t-they all forgot I killed that knight who attacked me."
Daisy's lips twitched at that reminder. Her exploding the knights trying to kill Sansa had rather overshadowed Fitz murdering the fuck out of a knight. "Good job with that by the way. Very badass."
"Thanks." Fitz sighed. "Look, I'll find a way to get us home…I just don't know how yet."
Daisy was…it was a good thing. "Let me know if you need help."
"I will." He stepped closer reaching as if to touch her arm only to hesitate and drop his arm. "I'll get us home. P-promise."
Daisy smiled and pretended what she felt was just pleased. Because getting home was the important thing…right?
Notes:Ok, not a theory or rant or whatever, but god I am so excited for House of the Dragon! Like it looks so promising and I'm trying so hard not to get too hyped...and failing miserably. But like listen to the main track from the trailers! Its so dope! The wigs are of...varying quality however. I should re-read that book before the show comes out. But I'm here for it! Its mainly inspired by the English Civil War between Matilda and Stephen during the early years of Plantagenet reign. Which is a fascinating time of history.
Chapter 60Notes:My boss bought me chai tea for the office, I am delighted by this.
Chapter TextDaisy drank deeply from the ale in the large and busy tavern in the heart of White Harbor. It was a genial mood, everyone knew that their beloved Lord Hand was in White Harbor, and thus were pulling out all the stops to impress. If she hadn't known how loved the Starks were, this would have told her. The concept of what was essentially a politician receiving this much love was baffling. But in the case of Sansa and Jon, she got it. They loved their people back with every bit of intensity their people loved them with.
She grinned and raised her mug and held eye contact as Ser Davos came in the door.
The poor man nearly tripped as he spotted her. Utter lack of undercover skills showed in how he failed to gather himself, before heading over towards her, waiving for a pint before he sat beside her. "Holiness."
"Please, Daisy while we're here." She laughed, leaning back as something called a lamprey pie was pushed in front of her. She had no intention of asking anyone what a lamprey was.
Davos gave a faint nod, as they both waited for the tavern keep to drop off Daisy's pie and Davos's ale before leaving. As soon as they were alone he spoke. "I wasn't expecting you here, M'lady."
Her lips twitched up at his insistence on respect. It was endearing actually. Mostly because he so wholeheartedly meant it. "Well, I misjudged your arrival here by like two days. But then, it's been fun poking around. The magic of people not recognizing me." She grinned. "And Essosi trade means my features barely warrant comment."
He gave her a curious look then but drank from his ale. "I suppose that makes sense, must be nice to just be yourself."
"It is, also took the chance to chat with some other heart trees. Just confirming some suspicions I have about them all." She tilted her head as she cut into her pie….def not asking what the fuck a lamprey was.
Davos paused, his ale halfway to his mouth. "Suspicions?"
"They're a hivemind, whatever they are." Daisy slouched forward slightly. Finally, someone who didn't give a fuck about the old gods. "I can talk to them…kinda? They vibrate differently than anything else I've ever felt. So it felt reasonable to talk to a few different trees on my way over here. And whatever they are, they know exactly what I've said to the others. I think they all kinda share one mind if that makes any sense to you."
"I can't say it rightly does, not exactly. But I've never been a godly man." Davos was half on the edge of his chair, ready to escape from the conversation if at all possible.
Daisy took pity on the poor man. "I never particularly believed in gods and now look at me." She huffed. "If you could pass on a message to Jon for me though. I'll take care of paying for your drinks."
"I can do that." He practically clung to the option that'd get him out of the situation.
She felt almost bad for messing with him. "I'll be on the boat when it leaves tomorrow, but I have a few more things to do before then. So not going to be hanging with you guys while the Manderly's feast you."
"I'll pass it on." Davos agreed. He frowned. "If I may, what business are you attending?"
She smiled. "Information, you'd never believe what people say when they're drunk. And I don't get drunk."
"Ah." Davos looked at her properly then. "You truly care for them, the Starks that is."
Daisy bit back her instinctive sarcastic reply. Instead, she just gave a slight nod. "Well, yeah."
Daisy dropped silently to the ground, the darkness would have protected her approach. Flying, super useful. Time to look into what was going on in the Rills and Barrowtown. Best make sure no danger was brewing there. After all, nobody wanted any surprises. And she'd never told Davos which tavern she intended to listen into conversation at. And hoods were really quite useful. Besides, she had no intention of sleeping in White Harbor.
////
Sansa was working through her proposed laws around a judicial system to prevent the utter failure of any sort of law that the North had been experiencing from ever happening again. "I see you disagree with some of these measures?"
"Your Grace…" Lord Manderly sighed. "It's a lot of power to separate from yourself."
She raised a brow. "That's an exaggeration and we both know it."
"But a valid concern. The overseeing of our laws has always laid with the Lords of the land and above them House Stark." He folded his hands over his stomach.
Sansa dipped her quill into the ink. "We need infrastructure that will allow the North to prosper and function even when we are at war. If some small measure of power must be given then so be it. Or do you disagree that it is shameful what our kingdom descended to once my brother led our armies south?"
"You're not wrong." Manderly hummed. "It would need to be beneath the authority of the local lords. They won't accept it easily otherwise."
She gave him a faint nod. "Naturally."
There was a sudden and loud banging knock on the door.
She frowned, looking towards the door. What in the world? "Enter?" She was bewildered, the fact they'd even reached the door meant it wasn't a threat.
The door burst open, a wheezing groom half bent over in a bow, half bent over just to get air came stumbling in. "Your Grace!"
"What news?" Sansa shared a brief concerned expression with Loras who'd opened the door for the groom. He looked equally confused at what this was about.
The groom gasped, straightening. "There's a cart with a boy who claims to be Brandon Stark in it." He wheezed slightly. "In the courtyard, right now."
It was unbecomingly rude, but she didn't care. She dropped her quill, her chair screeching behind her, and then she was striding out of the solar. She moved at the fastest walk she could manage without breaking out into a full-on sprint. Clutching the front of her dress, she lifted the weighty fabric as she took the quickest route to the courtyard.
"Your Grace, your cloak!" Loras yelped from behind her as he rushed after holding onto her winter cloak.
As she came out into the courtyard her eyes locked on the cart in the middle of the yard. The air was silent despite being filled with men and women. All waiting to hear if this was yet another miracle for the Starks. They parted silently before her before their attention went back to the cart.
Sansa's breaths felt too short and close as she came to a stop before the cart. There, under a blanket of squirrel and rabbit fur was a boy or mayhaps a man. His solemn face was long and pale. He couldn't have looked more a Stark.
He saw her, and his voice came out calm and steady. It had changed and deepened into that of a man instead of the tones of the boy she remembered. But it was so unmistakably still him. "Hello, Sansa."
And she didn't care about her crown, about the dignity she need hold herself with. Her chest ached with terrible joy. Three steps and she threw herself across her baby brother, arms wrapping around his neck. Her fingers tightened in the fur at the back of his neck, and she cried as she held him as close as she could.
She finally pulled back enough to cup his face and kiss his forehead. Her cheeks wet with tears. "Bran." Sansa looked at his face then and a terrible shiver of unease quaked her. He looked like nothing..his face was empty. "You must be tired." She looked to the side. "Go, get Ser Flint and tell him to have a room prepared in the family wing."
"Bran!" Rickon yelped as he came skidding into the yard. His blue eyes widened and then he flung himself into their brother as desperately as she had.
////
Loras wanted to scream, to cry out that it was wrong. That something was wrong. That whatever was looking out from behind Brandon Stark's eyes was not Brandon Stark. But he held his tongue as he quietly shadowed his Queen.
It was clear that Sansa felt at the least some unease at the reality of what her brother…had been reduced to. There was a fragility to her shoulders that he hadn't seen since King's Landing. But it wasn't his place to say anything, not here. But his eyes scanned the gods' wood…why would this be the first place Bran would wish to be? He'd just returned home, yet here he'd asked to be. Though he was now wrapped in the best furs and blankets to be found, he was in a chair carried out for him with pillows to sit on.
The direwolves were silently circling around the gods' wood. Sitting in the snow, looking up at his brother with a painful longing was Rickon. But under that longing was frustration. It could be seen in how his fingers were digging into his pants legs, the nervous way he was biting at his lip, and how he was half rocking towards his brother but then falling back.
Sansa laid a hand on Rickon's shoulder as she sat on the boulder just behind him. It made something in Loras ache for them. For he'd do anything for Margaery to be returned to him, but not like this.
Sansa spoke cautiously, but with a careful warmth. "I wish that Jon was here. He'd be so excited to see you returned to us."
"Yes." The faintest flicker of life passed Bran's face. "I need to speak to him."
It sent a shiver down Loras's spine. That was all the boy could muster at the thought of his eldest brother? It was wrong! Something was so wrong with this. He'd seen puppets with more life to them.
Rickon's frown grew. "Where've you been?"
"Far from here…and everywhere." Bran blinked, his gaze turning to Sansa. "You don't need to worry. I won't try to take your crown from you. I can't be Lord or King of anything. I'm the Three-Eyed Raven now."
"I…don't know what that means. I'm just glad you're back. What are you…" Sansa rocked slightly, her words uncompleted and unwieldy in a way that was so out of character for her.
Bran's voice was quieter as he replied. "It's difficult to explain."
"We're your family!" Rickon's frown deepened now, he rocked forward.
Sansa tightened her hand on Rickon's shoulder, half holding him back. "For us, we just want to understand you. Please."
"It means I can see everything. Everything that's ever happened to everyone. Everything that is happening right now. It's all pieces now, fragments. I need to learn to see better. For when the Long Night comes again, I need to be ready." His eyes were empty of anything human as he spoke.
Sansa frowned, her face inhumanly pale nearly as she looked at her brother. "How do you know all this?"
"The Three-Eyed Raven taught me." That same empty voice replied.
Rickon made a frustrated sound. "I thought you were the Three-Eyed Raven?"
"I told you it was difficult to explain." It should have been funny, there should have been humor or sarcasm or something. But there was none in Bran's voice, nor his face. It was enough to make Loras want to run or stab or do…something.
But his Queen commanded nothing, instead seeming to brace herself. "Bran-"
"I'm sorry for all that's happened to you." He interrupted, his eyes staring at his sister like he was looking straight through her. Yet there was no emotion to his voice. "I'm sorry it had to happen here. In our home. It was so beautiful that night. The snow was falling. Just like now. And you were so beautiful, in your white wedding dress."
Loras's eyes widened, he took a half step forward to do…what? The hurt was already given.
Sansa breathed in with a faint shudder. "I have to go back inside Bran." She stood, turning to leave.
"I'll stay a bit longer." He said as if he wasn't aware of the pain he'd just dug up. That the woman standing there was his sister.
As Sansa walked, he could actively see her walls slamming into place as her court mask rebuilt itself with every step. She paused at the gate out of the gods' wood. "Double Rickon's guard while he's near Bran, and get me Tormund."
"Yes, your Grace." Loras didn't know what was going on in his Queen's head and wasn't sure he wanted to. Because she was cold as ice.
////
Meera Reed sat on the end of the bed in the room she'd been allowed. It was a fine room…it felt wrong to be inside, the easy warmth and safety made her skin crawl as she was left with one question. What now? She'd traveled with Bran all the way to the true north. Had seen Children of the Forest, Others, magic, and darkness that she had no words for. Had brought him back, but for what?
She lept to her feet, one hand grabbing the hilt of a dagger as her door opened. But then her eyes widened as she recognized the woman. Long forgotten manners took over, her hand dropping from the hilt of her dagger, as she dropped into probably the most awkward bow of all time. "Your Grace."
"Rise, there is no need to bow after what you've done for my family." Sansa Stark was imperious, something untouchable to her as she stood there. She was perfect, like an image from a book or a reflection in a pool. "I trust the room is to your satisfaction?"
Meera felt it that she was dressed in dirty furs and leathers. "It's very nice." She wanted to kick herself for that. But what did it even matter?
"Good." Sansa Stark faced her. "Am I correct in assuming you are Meera Reed?"
She blinked. "Aye."
"And your brother, Hodor, Summer?" She asked, there was no doubt the answer she was expecting.
Meera's throat felt tight. "Dead."
"I'm truly sorry for your loss." The woman's eyes softened around the edges. "I hate to ask this of you but I find that I must. What happened?"
Meera stared at… this Queen, and what could she tell her that she would even believe? "I don't know that you'd believe me if I did, your Grace."
Sansa's eyes closed, and then she opened the door and spoke to the knight standing there. "Send for some tea." Turning she let the door close as she faced her again. "I find that I am willing to believe almost anything these days." She continued before Meera could reply. "Please, don't correct me. I'm not over measuring myself on this."
"Your Grace…it'll sound like tales for babes by the fire." Meera ventured.
"My lover isn't human." Sansa stared at her daring her to challenge that and…
Meera's mouth opened and then shut. "Fucking Starks." Her eyes widened in horror. "Sorry-"
Sansa raised a hand. "Please, I'm Queen of the North, I'm harder to offend than that. Now, are you willing to explain your journey or not?"
Meera felt warm for the first time in years as she sat on the fur rug before the fire, hot tea cradled between her hands and the quiet attention of Bran's sister. It certainly helped that the great white direwolf had curled around her as she spoke of the hard things. It was all hard but…some of it…some was carved into her soul. "The Night's Watch was pleased to give us the cart, and send us south. The Lord Commander Edd was… kind."
"What do you intend to do now?" Sansa asked as she took a drink of her tea.
Meera looked into the fire. "If I'm to die I would do it with my family."
"I understand." Sansa sighed, and then her eyes locked on Meera. "I intend to send a great deal of small folk, as well as supplies into the Neck for safety once the army of the Dead reaches the Wall. If you would consent I would give command of that to you. And until then a talented hunter is always needed."
She frowned. "You want me to stay here?"
"Winterfell will always be open to you. Any favor you wish to ask for will be considered seriously. For what you've done for my brother…there are no words for how grateful I am." Sansa blinked rapidly away what might have been tears. "I would never presume to ask any more of you. But yes, I would prefer for you to stay. At least till Daisy returns. Whatever old magics are at work I would know more. But your wishes are more important than any questions I would see answered."
Meera stared into the fire. She remembered the soldiers on the wall, not just black brothers. The armies they'd passed on their way south. And maybe… "Do you think your lover could bring back Bran?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not. But I refuse to not try." There was a quiet resolve there that for what it was worth Meera believed.
So she found herself nodding. "I can stay until the dead are closer."
"Thank you."
////
Arya Stark was invisible. Just another traveler riding through the light snows of early winter. Her northern features and simple clothing made her more invisible than any disguise she could have hoped for. A quick flash of some coppers she'd stolen from the Freys, and she was eating a greasy eel pie and washing it down with ale. She'd expected the rumors she sought to be faintly harder to hear. It seemed in this also, she was fortunate.
She'd wedged herself in at a long table full of various travelers. A man in Manderly colors was boasting loudly. "Those southern fucks won't know what hit them!"
There was a chorus of various levels of sober 'ayes' at that.
"I'm not worried about the south. Fuck the south. No one can invade us in the winter. Might as well just slit their own throats and be done with it." A bearded man whose garb said he was a field laborer of some sort. The plentiful grey explained his survival, too old to go to war.
An older woman set down several tankards as she settled down on the bench. "Long Night, gods walking in our world again. Dark days."
"Aye." The bearded man replied. "But our army'll hold the Wall. And we all know the Vale is pledged to us."
Arya stayed quiet, just gulping ale to wash down her pie. It wasn't what she'd expected. Everyone with a brain knew magic was coming back into the world. But the Long Night? Well, that put some things into perspective. Though how prissy, silly Sansa was the cold and ruthless Queen she was hearing of was…maybe she was the figurehead to Jon's leadership? That certainly made as much sense as anything these days.
But the further north she rode, the more she was sure she hadn't misunderstood. House Stark ruled again, and it was Sansa on the throne. Also, Jon was back as well. And if rumors were to be believed Rickon lived as well.
"I've written a new song!" An only slightly drunk man declared as he brandished a lute. Actually, his general garb marked him out as a bard, who plainly hadn't been doing well with how awful things had been in the North.
There were cheers as the tavern bustled with movement. He was promptly dumped on a stool by the hearth, conversation dying out. Everyone eager to hear the new tune.
Arya smirked faintly as she took a particularly large, and greasy bite of her pie. Not as good as Hot Pie's, she smugly thought to herself.
The bard cleared his throat, his smug demeanor saying this was about to be a rather bawdy number. Something the rest of the tavern clearly noted as well with great glee.
"I call it The Letch, The Leech, and The Lady." He bowed his head and then strummed his instrument.
Arya choked on her pie halfway through the first verse. Dead gods it was about her sister. The Letch was Tyrion, which made the Leech Ramsey and…Lady? Since when was her sister fucking a woman?!