Chapter 73Notes:So, here we are at the end of yet another narrative arch. See y'all next week with the start of Part 3. Also yeah this chapter is like half an hour early...I'm tired and want to go to bed early so...congrats!
Chapter TextJon wasn't sure if he was relieved or frustrated that he and Daenerys had been interrupted, as he followed her out from the caves and into the light of the day. He knew the moment he saw Tyrion and Lord Varys's faces that whatever the news, it was bad. The fact Daisy had come this near the caves was another cause for worry. As was her expression.
He resisted the urge to head straight for Daisy and ask her for news. Instead, he lingered behind Daenerys as Tyrion nervously took a step forward.
"Your Grace, we took Casterly Rock." Tyrion reported while looking like he wished for the sea to come and swallow him.
Daenerys's voice was careful. "That's very good to hear. Isn't it?"
"It was an overwhelming victory. Very little loss of life." Tyrion grimaced. "But it would seem we've found some of Euron Greyjoy's fleet. They're at Lannisport, where they've sunk those ships we had sent west."
Daenerys's voice was hard then. "What else?"
"Our victory at the Rock was so overwhelming because the Lannister army was not there" Tyrion looked physically ill.
Varys cut in with his soft tone. "It would seem Jaime Lannister took the Lannister army to the Reach. Highgarden is besieged. They will be lost before even your dragons could reach them if they are not lost already."
"You'll want to discuss this amongst yourselves." Jon was going to grab Daisy. She'd fill him in, and he may be pants at understanding women, but the barely veiled fury on Daenerys's face was readable even to him. Not that he blamed her, half the men he knew would be roaring or screaming with rage at this point if they were in her shoes.
Daenerys's voice was hot and sharp but still measured. "You will stay. All my allies are gone. They've been taken from me while I've been sitting here on this island."
"You still have the largest armies." Tyrion tried to pacify, which even Jon knew was not the right thing to say. She wasn't a child.
"Who won't be able to eat because Cersei has taken the Reach." Daenerys snapped, her eyes flashing.
Tyrion's voice was pleading as he urged his Queen to listen to him. "Call Grey Worm and the Unsullied back. We still have enough ships to carry the Dothraki to the mainland. Commit to the blockade of King's Landing. We have a plan. The right plan!"
"Your strategy has lost us Dorne, the Iron Islands, and now the Reach." Daenerys wasn't the cold impenetrable wall of anger Sansa became, instead she was all barely held back fury. She also wasn't wrong.
Tyrion defended himself. "If I have underestimated our enemies-"
Jon cringed on Tyrion's behalf, excuses in the face of abject failure never went well. The man was lucky Sansa hadn't eaten him alive while they were married. He desperately wanted to gesture at Tyrion to shut up and take his reprimand. For gods' sakes, offer a solution when asked not before, and take the blame rightfully due. Maybe Tyrion wasn't as good with women as Jon had thought? Was he drunk maybe?
"Our enemies? Your family you mean. Perhaps you don't wish to harm them after all." Her nostrils flared, it was a helpless rage Jon was all too familiar with.
Daenerys' dressing down of her Hand was halted by her dragons crying out their mother's rage above them. She seemed to settle, anger leashed with purpose. "Enough with the clever plans. I have three large dragons. I'm going to fly them to the Red Keep."
"We've discussed this." Tyrion attempted, clearly missing he'd worn out any chance of being listened to at the moment.
Daenerys' jaw was set. "My enemies are in the Red Keep. What kind of Queen am I if I'm not willing to risk my life to fight them?"
"Not all of your enemies are in the Red Keep." Daisy cut in calmly.
Jon, as well as everyone else, looked at her like she was mad.
"Excuse me?" Daenerys was focused on Daisy now, clearly listening.
Daisy had an expression that said they were missing the obvious. "Highgarden hasn't fallen yet."
"Forgive me your Holiness, but their letter indicates they will not last three more days at best. It is lost to us." Varys tittered.
Daisy rolled her eyes before stepping directly in front of Dany. "Acknowledge the North as fully independent, relinquish any claim to it, and I'll preserve the Reach for you."
"You can do this?" Daenerys asked as she held Daisy's gaze without flinching.
Daisy tipped her head in assent. "I'll leave some Lannisters for you when you catch up with your dragons."
"Your Grace, deals with gods…" Varys trailed off at Daenerys sharply raised hand.
She stood there, her hand raised keeping her advisors silent. "What would you require?"
"Well, Jon would be useful." Daisy glanced over at him. "You're going to really hate it?"
Jon's shoulders slumped. "Whatever you need."
Daisy blinked. "Wait…you don't even want to know what first?"
"I trust you." He winced. "And I have a feeling it involves me flying to Highgarden with you."
She had the funniest smile as she looked at him. "Promise not to drop you."
"I'll try not to puke." He looked longingly at the dragons. Flying on a dragon looked so much nicer.
Daisy looked back to Daenerys. "The North for the Reach." She held out her arm.
There was a moment as it felt like everyone there was holding their breath. To see if Daenerys would accept the offer, choose the lives of her allies over her claim. Would she trust a god to whom nothing was owed and owed nothing in return.
"Done." Daenerys took Daisy's hand, shaking it firmly.
Tyrion spoke carefully. "Your Grace…"
"I can smell the wine on you." Daenerys turned on him. "If you drink more than two cups in a day again you will need to find a new Queen to serve. I will not have my Hand drunk." There was a faint hiss to her voice. "But you get your wish, we move the Dothraki to the mainland."
Jon felt a thrum of purpose as he looked at her silver hair. They had the North's independence. Daenerys Targaryen may be as dangerous as any of her forebears, but she listened when advised, and for all she might rage, she had not lost sense. She was a woman he could stand behind if his path was to be that of her husband.
Jon grimaced as he wrapped himself over Daisy's shoulders. Being pressed this close to a woman who was not his to hold, was deeply uncomfortable. It felt like he should be apologizing desperately. "I'm sorry for any sounds I might make."
"Promise not to tell the Dragon Queen if you puke." Daisy snickered as she bent her knees. "Hold tight."
And then they were gone, and it felt as if the bottom of his stomach was left on the ground behind them. His eyes squeezed shut as the wind felt as if it'd peel the skin from his flesh. The horrible sensation made time feel interminable as he grasped onto Daisy with all the strength in his arms, the rope holding them together cutting into him as the wind tried to peel him off the god like a barnacle from a rock.
Then it changed, the direction of the wind changing though lessening as they felt as if they'd rolled over before plummeting downwards in a great sickening arc. They slowed the further they fell before they hit a giant cushion of air. It made them rise up a few feet and then hit the ground with a resounding thud.
Jon didn't even feel the ropes give way as his legs touched the ground. He just keeled over onto his hands and knees and wretched into the dirt.
////
Ser Garlan Tyrell knew he would die as he marshaled their forces to fight when the gate fell. The first level had already fallen, and the stench of death from those caught in the briar maze when they'd set the thing on fire clung to the air even now, four days later. But today as he marshaled their exhausted and waning forces he knew they were at an end. The inner keep would not hold long once the second wall was lost.
It was here with the fall of the second wall he would make his stand. And here he'd die. His family might survive him by a day at best. All that was left to him was to take as many of the Lannister bastards with him as he could. His teeth grit as he shouted for another beam to be brought and braced against the gate.
He cursed the size of the Lannister army, its training, experience, and those thrice-damned catapults that had been hammering them for a near two weeks now. He shuddered to think what would have happened had they not received orders from the Dragon Queen to raise their defenses. They'd already be dead if that hadn't been done. At least this way they could make the fuckers bleed with them.
"Ser!" A bloodied man skidded to a halt beside his mount. "They're breaching the western wall!"
Garlan cursed. "Seven Hells." He wheeled around on his mount, facing the master of arms. "Take every man you can. I don't care if they're from the kitchens. Take them and re-secure the wall."
"Yes, m'Lord." The master of arms paused before heading to do his duty. "Die well, and may we meet again in death."
Garlan swallowed. "It's been an honor."
The master at arms gave a sharp nod, kicked his heels in, and rode off, barking orders and rallying men as he went.
Turning he shuddered in time with the gate as the battering ram relentlessly hammered at it. His head snapped up at a shout about the sky. He expected more rubble to be hurled at them. Instead, his eyes didn't understand what the blur was before a great gust of wind threw any man too close skidding back.
He grabbed onto his saddle, trying to steady his horse. And then he realized what he was seeing. A woman was standing in a perfect circle pressed into the ground as if she hadn't just fallen from the sky. But she couldn't have been mistaken for any mere woman.
Her features were foreign, the wind rising and falling about her, the light seemed to bend and warp as if it couldn't quite illuminate her, and the very air felt as if it was tingling with power, not of this realm.
The men dropped to their knees, the word 'Stranger' on their lips.
Garlan dismounted, his legs shaking as they carried him forward, and then he dropped to his knees as well, gazing up upon the face of a god. If he was to die, he would look upon the face of the divine just once. He didn't bother with so much as a glance at the sound of a man retching his guts up.
The god seemed to become more real, the light settling upon her, the wind dying near as sudden as it had come. Her brown eyes landed on him, and then she strode towards him.
Garlan shuddered, his head dropping, he could not bear her gaze. His cheeks were wet with tears. He'd thought he had more time, that he and his beloved Leonette might be blessed with children, that he might make his enemies suffer for the deaths of his family in King's Landing, that he just…he'd thought he had more time.
Her hands caught his armored arms, she lifted him to his feet as easily as a mother would her child. "Garlan Tyrell?"
"Yes." His voice shamefully cracked as his gaze once more met her's, the kindness there shook him.
She released him, leaving his feet under him. "I'm here to help." Her mouth was a soft smile, though her eyes were bright and sharp.
Garlan spoke, the words not holding true meaning as he tried to grasp what was happening. "To help?"
"I believe you have a Lannister problem? Let's take care of it." She cocked her head. "Unless you wanted to lose?"
He swallowed. "Never, I'll do anything."
Garlan felt sick with nerves, his heart fluttered as he and what remained of his men he'd gathered to hold the gate stood there. He asked nothing of who the strange man was not far behind the shoulder of the Stranger, valyrian steel sword in his hand. The clear Stark looks, Stark wolf pressed into the metal of his armor, northern armor, all of it was striking in who it said the man was. But questioning the Stark warrior following the Stranger was not Garlan's right.
Instead, he watched the Stranger as she stepped towards the gate as it shuddered, cracks deepening from the battering ram. And then she raised her hand.
The gate exploded outwards into thousands of shards, the battering ram on the other side shattering, the brief glimpse of soldiers before they turned into mists of blood as the force of her will sent it all flying. And all of this with a great, shattering 'boom'.
Air whooshed out of Garlan's lungs in a hiss between his teeth.
The Stark man stepped beside her, his lack of terror and awe was marked.
The Stranger grinned at the man. "Ready?"
"Aye, as I'll ever be." The Stark man's northern accent was thick, a resigned determination to him.
She patted his shoulder. "Try to keep up." And then the Stranger strode forward, through the gate and into the charge of Lannister men who'd recovered from the shattering of the gate. It should have been ridiculous to see two beings walk through the gate alone against a charging force. But it wasn't. The enemy's rush simply ceased to exist as they got near the Stranger. One moment a man would stand there, and the next his corpse simply hit the ground, their life snuffed out.
////
Jaime Lannister stared at the model of Highgarden. "Their gate will fall within the day."
"Oh aye it will." Bronn sneered. "So much for an easy victory." He threw a dirty look at Lord Tarley where he was standing proud as if this whole near disaster of a siege wasn't his fault.
Jaime cut in before that argument could start again. "What's done is done."
"Once the gate falls they'll put up their strongest fight." Lord Tarley pointed to the second gate. "Ser Garlen will be here. Once he's killed and his men put to the sword, the rest will fall without fail."
Bronn opened his mouth to say something insulting no doubt, only to pause. His brow furrowed. "Do you feel that?"
Jaime frowned, looking at the tiny figures on the table rattling atop the map. He grabbed the table as the ground itself bucked with a swell. "An earthquake?"
"The Reach doesn't suffer from earthquakes." Randal Tarley rebutted.
Bronn's hand dropped to his hilt. "Well, it's bloody well suffering from one now."
And that's when the sounds of war shifted in pitch. Jaime grabbed his sword, stumbling out of the command tent, and looked at the first gates. The men were trampling over each other to get out. Several men were jumping off the damn walls.
"What the fuck?" Bronn gaped as he reached him.
Jaime looked at their forces. Whatever was coming for them was bad. "FORM UP! SHIELDS!" He ignored the rumbles of the earth, the occasional sway of it, and grabbed his horse's reins and mounted. He turned on Lord Tarley. "Get the men formed up! All of them!"
He kicked his heels in riding up the lines of the army. They'd only been out here to avoid arrow fire while agreeing on the final stages of the siege once the second gate fell. He roared out orders as he galloped past men. His voice ached from the words "FORM UP! ARCHERS!" And so forth.
Jaime was more and more alarmed every time he saw the stream of men near throwing themselves upon their own comrades' weapons to get out of Highgarden. The men leaping from the walls most concerning. But it was how the rush was slowing, though turning more fearsome. There had been thousands inside the walls, and only perhaps a fraction seemed to be fleeing. What of the other men?
He wheeled his horse around to stand behind the lines, ready to fight whatever attack this was. And then the men trapped and clawing to get out through the gate burst. They were men one moment, and the next like a tick burst from too much blood they exploded into showers of gore. His sword point lowered as he ignored the stench of terrified men and death. "By the gods…"
And then he saw her.
Walking through the gore like it was nothing was a woman, he could tell that even from here. Her garb was white with red upon it and seemed to glint in the sunlight. The hail of arrows in the air flying towards her turned to dust well before getting close to reaching her. With every step she took the ground bucked and rolled. Every hair on his body stood on end. And then she raised her hands.
He was struck by a great force like a hammer to the chest. His ears rang, the air driven from his lungs as he hit the ground. The sky was painfully blue, the sun blinding as he wheezed. His mouth tasted of copper as he rolled onto his stomach, spitting into the dirt as he dragged himself up to his feet. Jaime blinked looking at the walking death coming for them through squinted eyes.
Grabbing his sword from the dirt he swayed, whether it was his head or the ground which was truly swaying that greatly he didn't know. The army's line was gone. The soldiers were in the dirt, their weapons shattered, some were dead, and others scrambled to their feet to run. It took seconds, and his army was in ashes. His teeth clenched as he grabbed a fleeing man. "Stand your ground and fight you coward!"
The man shook his head, desperately clawing at Jaime's hands to be released.
Jaime threw the man to the ground in disgust. Setting his jaw he walked towards the woman. He strode past men still in the dirt. "Fight me." His voice raised in challenge as he came closer to whatever this woman was. He had to stop her before all was lost if it was not already. "FIGHT ME!"
Her eyes found him, her brow rising. Though she came to a halt. "You don't look good Jaime Lannister."
"I'll fight him." A man that Jaime had barely noticed stepped past her from where he'd been just behind her.
Jaime blinked. It looked like a young Ned Stark. Same features, same armor, same dour expression, prettier, but the man could have been his ghost. "Jon Snow?"
"It's Stark." Jon strode forward sword raised as he stood to meet him for battle.
He met the challenge, ignoring how his head was ringing. A thing he near regretted at the first clash of steel, the sound felt like knives into his skull. "Let's hope you're better than your father, boy."
Jon didn't rise to the bait, his strikes never overextended themselves as they circled each other testing one another. His eyes did narrow though, teeth bared like the damned mutt he was. And then he was bringing a harsh overhead swing down on him.
Catching the blade with his own he braced, matching the boy's strength. Their faces dragged closer as they struggled in a battle of strength. Then Jon reared back and slammed his forehead into his face.
Jaime's feet gave way, and he hit the dirt again. He tried to rise, but his legs betrayed him. Looking up he was met with a sword to his throat.
"Yield, Kingslayer." Jon Snow ordered.
He panted. "Haven't you come far, bastard." Jaime's eyes tracked to the woman who was now just behind Jon's shoulder. "This your witch?"
"Not a witch." Her eyes were hard.
Jon lowered his sword and stepped back.
She reached down grabbed him by the front of his breastplate and dragged him up to his knees. Her hair tickled his cheek. "I'm a god, you idiot."
Chapter 74: Part 3Notes:Hey! Welcome to Part 3!
Chapter TextGarlan Tyrell walked through the destruction wrought by the Stranger. Where once the defensive briar maze of Highgarden had stood and then burned were just charred lumps of what had been proud bushes. The blood and gore pooled well over his ankles in a horrible wet, crimson muck. Chunks of men, sometimes just their armor and boots floating in the bloody mud, nothing substantial left at all laid there. He was numb as he walked, each step making an awful sucking sound as he had to rip his boots from the cloying gore.
Amongst the dead were those who had been spared. Dotted across the field, sometimes in clumps, sometimes alone were Lannister men at arms. They were on their knees. Some sobbing, some curled on the ground shaking with terror. But it was clear, those who had dropped their weapons lived. He looked to his men behind him. "Round up the survivors to the tulip garden, but cause them no harm."
He did not stay to see his orders followed, as he knew they would be, instead, he inexorably marched forward, through the death and ruin of his home. But at least his home still stood. Garlan walked through the crumbling gatehouse and turrets that had been the first proper defense of Highgarden. As he, and those men following him, came out into the fields outside of Highgarden he trembled.
The catapults that had been hammering them were so much shattered rubble. How much of the Lannister force had been outside the walls, and how much was dead inside he didn't know. But he did know they'd estimated the army that had arrived on their doorstep at twenty thousand men. If he was right, maybe a little over two thousand were left kneeling on the ground within and without. It was a rout.
Standing amidst the ruin and wreckage of thousands of bodies was the Stranger. She was speaking with her Stark warrior.
It dawned on him as he approached that she was wearing an outer jacket with a color and design that reminded him of a weirwood. He…would not dare ask. As he reached her he dropped to his knee. "Stranger, you have my and my House's eternal gratitude. Anything you require or desire. You need only name it."
"You can stand, and I'm not the Stranger." She replied, a lack of danger in her voice as she held out her hand.
Garlan's tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of his mouth as he accepted the hand up. If she was not the Stranger…could such a power belong to the Maiden? The Mother? Or could the Warrior take the form of a woman? He stood, a thrum passing through him from her hand before she released it. "I.."
"My fault, forgot to introduce myself." She smiled slightly. "And my list of titles is ridiculous, but I'm Quake, Destroyer of Worlds. My friends call me Daisy." She gestured to her companion. "This is Prince Jon Stark of Winterfell, Hand of Sansa Stark, Queen of the North."
Garlan blinked. "My apologies I've not heard of you before Holiness."
"Yeah, this isn't my realm." She shrugged. "This idiot's old gods dragged me here and I'm a bit trapped for now. Stupid trees." Goddess Quake's face fell slightly more serious. "And you don't owe me anything. I helped you because of a deal struck for your survival by your Queen, Daenerys Targaryen. Also, I like your brother Loras."
Jon Stark sighed. "Ser Garlan, what is the state of Highgarden? We're here to help."
"The second wall wouldn't have lasted till night. Once that was lost the central wall and keep wouldn't have held out two days." Garlan swallowed. "They took us by surprise with a quick march from Tarley lands. We had near a thousand men at arms here two weeks ago. I don't know the final numbers, less than seven hundred now. We kept most of our men alive in the retreat behind the second wall. But more than that I won't know for hours yet."
Goddess Quake cast her eyes across the rolling hills. "They didn't raid your small folk?"
"They depended on speed so that we would not have time to call our banners nor raise our defenses fully." Garlan's jaw clenched. "If her Grace hadn't warned us to prepare our defenses we'd have been lost days ago."
Jon Stark nodded. "Well, that's something." He kicked at the body by his feet. "We have a prisoner you and your Queen might be interested in. Thought he'd have been a better swordsman."
Garlan recognized the dirty, but clearly recognizable man. His hand automatically flew to the hilt of his sword. "Kingslayer!"
"Hey!" The goddess's hand caught his arm before he could draw his sword. "Your Queen is a week and a half behind us in reaching you. Hostages might be something she's interested in."
Garlan dropped his arm, shamed at his rage before a being as far above him as a goddess. He didn't know exactly who she was, but he knew she was divine and that he as well as all those he loved owed her their lives. "Apologies." His face dropped. "If you would, please. The inner keep will know more of what the status of Highgarden is if it pleases you, your Highness, your Holiness."
"You'll want to get your men to start securing the men who've surrendered." Goddess Quake reached down and easily picked Jaime Lannister up as if he wasn't in full armor. "Where should I put him?"
Walking beside a living god up the long path to the inner keep was surreal. The blood and viscera was deep as they walked. He knew it was certainly deeper in the lower grounds within the walls. But here on the road up to the inner grounds, walking was still feasible. As they passed all movement ceased.
The Tyrell men were making their way out to secure their lost ground and their new prisoners. They all were wide-eyed and pale as they picked their way forward through the ruin of the Lannister forces. As each saw Goddess Quake they'd seem to freeze, staring in awe, before bowing, if not outright dropping to their knees, careless of the muck, blood, and viscera on the ground. Highgarden had never been so silent.
Garlan didn't know if words existed to express the judgment that had befallen this day. He walked hesitantly as they were near halfway to the second curtain wall's gate that he'd been prepared to die defending not even a full hour earlier. Words and questions stuck in his throat. He was grateful the Northern Prince and Goddess Quake seemed content to walk in silence. So they walked, the terror and awe filling the air around them as they went.
Highgarden had been the most beautiful castle in all of Westeros just weeks ago. Now it was in ruins. Their outer wall had been battered into submission. The first circle and their briar maze that had stood since the ages of the Gardner Kings was now ash and charred chunks soaked in the blood of their enemies. Great slabs of rock and rubble from the bombardment of the catapults dotted the land. The once pristine walls were cracked and damaged.
The gatehouse in the second wall was ruined. Massive parts of the bulwarks were knocked down, and the gate no longer existed. It was a relief to reach the less damaged parts of Highgarden, though all of his home was damaged and torn by the war that had come to them. It grieved his heart to see, and yet it still stood. And so in silence, he led them further in, through the third gate, and into the grounds there.
The women and children, those few older knights and men at arms who had been left as a final line of defense, the servants. Had begun to spill out of the castle keep whether because word had spread, or the change to silence after the ground had bucked and shook, he did not know. And then he saw her, his wife. She was there, as delicate as the day he'd met her.
Her eyes hit him and she ran towards him in a great billow of skirts. "GARLAN!"
He let out a sob, and caught her in his arms, desperately holding her to him. Neither of them cared that he was in filthy armor, only that they had not thought to see each other again. His eyes burned as he cried, holding her. He never wished to let her go again. Garlan just shook, unable to take his eyes off his wife's face as her fingers trailed along his face.
"Boy! What's happened!?" Grandmother's voice cut through the air. "And why in seven hells is a Stark here?"
Garlan flinched, quickly pushing his wife behind him as he snapped his attention to his grandmother. He needed to stop her before she insulted a Goddess. "Grandmother!" The desperation in his tone must have reached her though. Because she mercifully turned her eye away from their guests. "Please."
"What's happened?" His grandmother's voice was serious instead of biting this time.
His mouth felt dry. "The Lannisters are dead." Garlan straightened as he refused to let the reactions of those who had not witnessed what occurred cause him to falter. "May I present the living goddess, Quake, The Destroyer of Worlds." He put as much emphasis on the name 'Quake' as possible. They may not have seen it, but they had to have felt the unnatural way the ground had moved. "We live on her mercy." He continued indicating Jon Stark. "And this is Prince Jon Stark, Hand to the Queen in the North."
"We've come to help." Prince Jon spoke stiffly. "Introductions can come later. For now what needs to be done?"
Goddess Quake just raised a brow but didn't disagree with him.
So Garlan turned to his grandmother. "Where is Willas?"
////
Sansa watched from the walls as the Vale armies rode up towards Winterfell. Their banners unfurled in the wind. The great kingdom of knights and chivalry. Fourteen thousand men who had avoided the last seven years of near-constant warfare that had consumed the rest of Westeros. And here they were, to fight in her name. It was impressive, and she intended to send them to fourteen of the northern keeps that lay north of Winterfell.
"I promised you an army." Lord Baelish spoke lowly, far too close to her ear.
Her skin crawled at how close he was. But she knew the role she had to play. "You've made good on your word." Sansa flicked her eyes to him. "I won't forget it."
"As I always have striven to." He dipped his lying, smarmy head.
Her teeth ached with the force required to not order her guard to throw the man over the parapets and to his death. "Should I be concerned about what news they may bring?"
"Nothing that you do not already know or could guess." Baelish had a smug look on his face.
She raised a brow. He wanted her reaction then, why he wanted that instead of the credit of usefulness was curious. But it wouldn't be news he feared the fallout affecting him. Something of some import, but not a setback. Something she could handle without warning then. But not something she wished to. "Humor me Lord Baelish."
"If you wish, funny though, I'd have thought your lover would have kept you far better informed than I could?" Baelish sounded perfectly lightly conversational, perfectly reasonable. "Only she hasn't returned to you in some time, has she?"
Sansa arched a brow at that. She hadn't been expecting that tact, and the man had been cautious in regard to Daisy since the whore incident. "What are you implying?"
"Only the moods and whims of the gods are..fleeting. And her Holiness has proven to have a taste for beautiful queens." He implied a concerned expression that she knew meant vileness and cruelty.
It was funny, perhaps she should have worried. Daisy should have returned by now. And yet…she didn't feel a flicker of worry. Some concern at what might have caused the delay, but she didn't doubt Daisy's capability to handle whatever the issue might be. But the thought of doubting Daisy's loyalty or rather faithfulness hadn't even crossed her mind. Now presented with it she found it ridiculous to imagine. She could so easily picture how Daisy looked at her.
And beyond simple security, Daisy's aid and loyalty had never been dependent on what was between the two of them. Their courtship had been so many lies for months. Daisy was bound to their cause because she agreed with Jon. Because she had chosen to aid them. Sansa made a sound in the back of her throat she hoped did not sound like the scoff it was. "It is far too soon to suspect the worst from that quarter."
"You know the little game I like to play, imagine the worst and see how well it explains their actions." Baelish was oily as he offered doubt to tarnish what connections she had.
Sansa looked away from him, let him guess at why. But she saw his game then. He was looking for cracks that he might begin to pry. First a priceless dagger to Rickon, now an implication of unfaithfulness from Daisy. No doubt he'd have a whisper or suspicion for one of her other siblings soon…perhaps Jon since distance would prevent him from defending his name? But it told her that either he was lacking a faultline to exploit, or was obscuring one. Either was dangerous. So giving him one might show his strings. "You've said little of my sister?"
"She's not half as lovely as you." He wheedled.
He really didn't want to say what he knew from the Riverlands, which meant he wanted her reaction to it in a more stressful moment. "Petyr, do you intend to avoid all my questions?"
"Some questions lack easy answers." He replied. "If you wish me to ask the right questions to answer those you have of your sister, you have only to ask."
Sansa looked at his face and she wished to bloody it. Let him think of it as an olive branch for providing her an army. "Then prove your intentions Lord Baelish, find the answers I seek." She turned and walked away. After all, she had an army to greet in her King's Hall.
Sansa sat upon her throne of ironwood. It was not grand like the seat in the Eyrie, nor terrible like the Iron Throne, instead it was simply a sturdy and well-carved chair. The functionality and lack of pageantry of it all suited the North, and her own sensibilities.
The dozen or so knights in charge of the Vale army stood before her, all perfect court manners. Though she questioned the pale and shaking noblewoman with them. She'd of course be required to walk through the Vale army to ensure the men saw her face, but that could wait till the morrow. "You are most welcome to Winterfell and the North my Lords. It honors me to offer you my hospitality." She waved forward a servant with the bread and salt.
The general of the army bowed deeply before accepting the bread and salt first. His sigil was that of House Redfort. "Your Grace, my men are at your service."
"For which, I and my people, are most grateful. Together our people have never been defeated, may that continue to hold true, as well as our bonds of friendship and brotherhood." Sansa replied, the Vale would want some court speech, even if she only meant to give the minimum. The North preferred her without southern airs, as did she.
Lord Redfort dipped his head. "Well said, your Grace." He stepped forward, holding out a folded banner. "The Twins are yours, your Grace."
Sansa barely kept from reacting to that news. The Twins!? "And what of House Frey?" Her tone was carefully measured as she spoke, her surprise ruthlessly tamped down. The Vale army did not appear to have fought a siege, and could not have had time to.
A younger knight, also in the colors of House Redfort stepped forward, shepherding the noblewoman forward as well. His voice was clear, if cautious. "Every man of the Frey name is dead, killed by a Faceless man of Bravos in the Name of House Stark after being fed their kin, your Grace."
Sansa's attention turned to her sister. Her posture was rigidly still to keep her surprise from showing. Any question at the truth of it vanished at the sight of her sister's smile. She returned her attention to the knight. "I presume you have manned the fortress then?"
"Yes, it flies the Stark banner in your name. The Freys that were not fed to their family died of the poison; the strangler…the same as the false King Joffrey was killed by, your Grace." And the disquiet on his face made complete sense.
They thought she'd done it, and that it was proof she'd had Joffrey killed as well, a misunderstanding she did not intend to correct. "You have done as I would have hoped then, good Ser." She weighed her words carefully. "A more just fate for oath breakers I could not have hoped to hear."
The noblewoman made a high-pitched sound of terror and alarm. Her eyes and that of the whole court turned to Arya.
Arya's fingers played with the hilt of the sword. "Eating one's own sons was the gods' punishment for breaking guest rights. Glad to know you agree it was justice sister."
////
Daisy stared at her hair in the mirror. She was going to have to cut it. Not as short as it'd been the last time she'd cut it short, but to her shoulders at least. Jon had tried to save it and probably had saved a few inches she'd have lost if it'd taken till she realized some embers had lit it. But still…she'd been kinda proud of how long it'd gotten. Appearance mattered here in Highgarden, as the dress on the foot of the bed indicated. Also the lavish room she'd been given. Like seriously, Disney princesses didn't get shit this pretty.
Fortunately, preventing nuns from inflicting bowl cuts meant she'd learned young how to cut her own hair. Lifting the gold-plated scissors she carefully snipped away the hair, shortening it by a solid six inches at least. The large mirrors, which she knew in the North would have been considered a frivolous waste of space, made it easy to see what she was doing. She paused as she realized she'd just hoped Sansa liked it.
Daisy blinked, since when did she consider catering her personal appearance for a partner? She'd rolled her eyes and ignored Miles's preferences for skirts. She shook off the thought, it didn't matter anyway, it wasn't like she could leave her hair with just one rather large chunk missing. Had nothing to do with Sansa, even if she quietly hoped Sansa didn't mind.
She quickly ran her fingers through her hair to shake loose any clinging hairs. Daisy gave a light hum of approval of the look. She'd have to put a blue streak in when she had the chance. With a light breeze from her powers, she shucked off her jacket. While she hadn't gotten blood on it handling the problem yesterday, she had while helping wounded to the maesters. Blood she'd then not tried to get off thanks to just face planting when she'd finally gotten to the room. It was def set in by now. It would take a talented washer person to get it out. Which meant the dress provided for her to wear would be it. Thanks to getting Sansa out of her dresses, she knew how to get herself into it, even if the style was fairly different from the Northern style.
She was amused by the medieval cosmetics, not her colors at all. But the charcoal meant for the eyes she easily applied like eyeliner. It was the most feminine she'd looked since she'd gotten here. Daisy touched the dress with golden roses embroidered upon it, it really was beautiful. With a faint smile, she made her way out of the rooms and headed for the room she could feel Jon's vibrations from.
The servants bowed or curtsied deeply as they melted out of her way, all sound and movement vanishing as it turned to deep reverence, awe, and terror. Daisy didn't react to it, she'd gotten too used to the easy acceptance of the North. She knocked, and then immediately entered Jon's rooms.
He startled, half tripping as he turned around from where he'd been struggling with the front lacing of the tunic...jacket thing he'd been given. "Daisy?"
"Sup, need help with that?"
He stared at her. "You're dressed like a girl?" Poor man sounded faintly strangled.
"Brilliant deduction." Her mouth curled up in amusement. "I also am a girl if you hadn't noticed."
Jon blinked. "Your hair!?"
"Well, the dragon tried to flambé it." Daisy's smile grew. "I also painted some black around my eyes."
His cheeks flushed a bright pink. "It's just…um…you look pretty?"
Daisy laughed. "Please invite me next time you talk with Daenerys, I'd pay to see you tell her she looks like a girl."
"Shut it." He grumbled. "It's just different."
She stepped into his space, batting his hands away from his jerkin's lacing, and carefully finished it for him before straightening his collar. "You're not allowed to die and leave me with these people."
"Er…what?" Jon looked at her blankly, though his flush was fading.
Daisy patted his shoulder. "You're lucky you're pretty."
"Daisy!" He protested.
She sighed. "Well obviously if so much as a scratch shows up on you your sister will kill me not kiss me, so let's avoid that. And secondly, everyone here thinks I'm going to start eating their souls or something. I don't enjoy people being terrified of me and I know less about southern manners than you, which is not great. Cause it's just us here for like the next almost two weeks. So you don't leave me with people who aren't sure whether to run screaming or to try to sacrifice babies to me and I won't leave you alone with pretty young maidens who hear the title 'prince'."
His face paled as he seemed to realize the shit show they were trapped in. "They'll eat me alive."
"Which is why I won't leave you with them…much. And you help me make sure no one tries to serve me a human heart on a platter. Got it?" She felt part hysterical as she stared him in the eyes. Because oh this was going to be a disaster. Why couldn't Marlon be here? He'd know at least how not to offend everyone on accident…he'd do it on purpose.
Chapter 75Notes:Hey! So Saya4haji who betas some for me, has gone and turned part 1 of this fic into a physical and professional bound book. Its very cool. Art by Anathema. And they're going to raffle off a copy for the holidays. So if anyone wants in just, just swing by the discord server. https://discord.gg/3SgcMQwR and like the discord is fun, too many seal jokes and all. And no, this is not a profit thing. I quite like not being in trouble for trying to monetize shit.
Chapter TextOlenna Tyrell had seen the destruction, she'd now seen the looks on the soldier's faces. Her grandson's terror at the possibility of her insulting the one who had wrought judgment on the Lannisters was positively understated. In her long, and it had been very long, life she'd never given much of a shit about the gods. The gods would do as the gods would do, and men would use the name of gods to do what men would do.
It wasn't that she failed to believe in their existence, but rather that it'd always been abstract. What could gods possibly want from the minutiae of humanity? Clearly, the faith had as little to do with divinity as a piece of shit. But for perhaps the first time in her life she felt doubt. Because the woman from the courtyard was a god. And she clearly bothered with the minutiae of humanity, and she seemed to be allied with a different faction.
Olenna's eyes traveled to the double doors as it was opened and there was the Northern bastard prince and there the Goddess. She was beautiful, and clearly able to be feminine or masculine in dress and motion. She'd walked with comfort in pants and a jacket and now she did so in a dress. The change in motion was as easy as breathing for her. The easy air between her and the prince was notable. But then gods did take human lovers on occasion. It was well known.
She rose to her feet with the rest of them. Wouldn't do to miss the niceties with a god. Olenna was curious what sort she'd turn out to be. But then the gods always had the same appetites and passions as men. It was simply finding which ones this one had.
Willas managed to rise with the rest of them, even with his leg. "Your Holiness, your Highness. Please, we'd be honored if you would join us for our morning meal."
"Thank you for the rooms and clothing." The Goddess's lips were raised in a half smile. "I didn't exactly think to grab extra clothing. There wasn't a lot of time to get here fast enough once we got word." Her expression lost some of its humor. "Really, your hospitality is very kind of you."
Olenna couldn't help it. "Good gods Holiness, you saved our lands and lives. We'd give you the bloody castle if you wanted it."
Everyone froze in the room, looks of horror coming over their faces, Jon Stark just buried his face in his hands, and the Goddess threw her head back and laughed. She wiped a tear from her eye before looking at Olenna, seeming absolutely delighted. "You are exactly as Sansa and Loras described you Lady Olenna."
"Loras? Is he.." Alerie made a sobbing noise. "Is he at peace?"
Jon Stark and the Goddess exchanged a confused expression. Jon spoke slowly though. "He seems fine?"
Olenna and the rest of her family stilled. She looked at the bastard prince. "Are you saying my grandson is alive?"
"Did you not get Sansa's ravens?" The Goddess reached into the pocket of the dress she was wearing and pulled out a thick letter. "I mean, he asked me to bring this for whichever one of you was at Dragonstone."
Alerie fell to her knees with heaving sobs. Willas swayed on his feet. Garlan made a strangled noise as he reached for his wife, the various servants looked near to passing out.
The Goddess's eyes widened. "He's alive, he's in Winterfell. Margaery got him out and had him smuggled North. She thought Sansa would protect him, and she was right. He's got a beard now and complains about the cold a lot. Prince Rickon gets scolded for using his direwolf to spook him about once a week."
"Why would Margaery do that?" Willas sounded faint, though the lifting of some part of the grief they'd all been living under seemed to take five years off of him.
Olenna took the letter, her fingers trembling faintly from the Goddess's hands. Opening the letter she saw his handwriting and her heart ached. It was from him. "It's his hand."
"From what her letter said, your sister knew the Faith and Cersei were going to use Loras against her. So she chose to be beholden to Sansa rather than the High Sparrow or Cersei. It's not like anyone cares much he's gay in the North, and I'm pretty sure most everyone would kill anyone from the south who even looked at him wrong on principle at this point."
Garlan's voice was hoarse. "Gay?"
"Oh, likes other men. Sorry, the terms are..different here than I'm used to." The Goddess shrugged faintly.
Willas licked his lips. "You don't find his inclinations immoral?"
"No, it's fine. I don't care about gender when it comes to people personally, so it'd be pretty hypocritical to care. Also, nothing wrong with it. I don't actually know of any gods that do care about that?" The Goddess rolled her eyes. The utter dismissal of the concern was clear.
Jon Stark just sighed. "We can go, and leave you to your letter and your grief. What's happened to you has been terrible." He had a solemn melancholy to him which was frankly impressive in that it didn't make him look ridiculous.
Olenna just huffed, folding the letter and stepping forward. "Codswallop. It's breakfast, and I at least intend to eat it. The letter will keep. So long as that's acceptable with you, Holiness?"
"I would retreat to read my son's letter." Alerie spoke. "If that causes no offence?"
The Goddess touched Jon Stark's arm. "Jon and I can eat in my quarters, we had things to talk about anyways. If afterward someone could take us to your gods' wood, I'd appreciate it?"
Olenna didn't protest as Willas saw to ensuring their guests were not insulted. But the Goddess had insisted that family was important, a thing the bastard Prince agreed with her on. She noted that. It would seem their new guest at least felt some measure of empathy, or perhaps pity. She'd take it.
Olenna pinched the bridge of her nose. "That idiot boy!"
"He's alive." Garlan's voice was hoarse as he stood by his mother's side who was crying while clutching the letter. "And safe."
Willas turned his walking stick in his hand. "He's Kingsguard for an enemy Queen. If the North and the Dragon Queen do not come to terms he'll likely be burnt alive." He looked to Olenna. "Can we intercede for him? Or does he need to intercede for us?"
"Well, that is the question." Olenna's eyes narrowed. "Until we know more of this Goddess there is little we can safely do. A Goddess who he seems to have written almost nothing about except for terrifying things he's seen her do and pleas to not antagonize her. But learn what you can. Where she falls will determine everything."
Garlan spoke. "What of his warnings that the North stands poised to take the Seven Kingdoms? Or the Long Night?"
"Well, we have the North's Hand. We'd better find out what we can." She felt a spark though. A spark she'd thought grief had hardened.
////
Theon Greyjoy twitched slightly as he stood in the echoing throne room of Dragonstone. He looked up at Tyrion. "I thought Queen Daenerys would be here, my Lord?"
"Our beloved Queen has left for Highgarden. There were pressing matters to attend to." Tyrion's voice was obnoxious as always as he stood before the empty throne.
The bottom of his stomach felt like it dropped straight out of his gut. "My sister is in King's Landing. We have to get her back!"
"Which is quite unfortunate, however, our army, dragons, and Queen are not here." Tyrion opened his hands. "There is little we can do to help you. Launching an attack on King's Landing is not possible for some time."
Theon swallowed, he needed men, armies, dragons to defeat his uncle. "My sister swore to our Queen, as allies you must help me get her back."
"I'm afraid there is nothing to be done until the Queen returns." Tyrion placated.
One of the men in the hall stepped forward. "Why don't we just go save her?"
Theon blinked, he recognized the man. "Joran?" The skittish and beaten down guard with dark eyes who had followed Ramsey around at Winterfell.
Joran shifted, but his head remained high, higher than it'd ever been in Winterfell. "We don't need to take King's Landing to save the Greyjoy Queen."
"Excuse me, who are you exactly?" Tyrion looked confused as he looked at...well, a common man at arms speaking up in a royal court like he had a right to.
Joran gave a slight nod of deference, it wasn't particularly more than the minimum. "Joran of the Order of the Shield." He was actually dressed slightly differently than the normal Winterfell men at arms. "I serve the Order and the Order serves her Holiness. If her Holiness was here she'd do it herself." He looked to the Northern men. "We all know it, we're here to make an alliance, what better way than for a historic enemy to owe us her life?"
"While very interesting, I fail to see the point. Unless you're suggesting you're going to ride into King's Landing yourself, break into the dungeons of the Red Keep, steal away their new prized prisoner who might not even still be alive, then flee back out of the Red Keep, out of King's Landing, and all the way back to Dragonstone. Which if you are, you are a very great fool." Tyrion actually appeared confounded.
Theon desperately hoped the man had a better plan than that…because it was kind of the desperate plan that'd been growing in the back of his mind as his dreams of saving his sister with dragonfire died.
"Not by myself." Joran straightened. "Davos was a smuggler, if anyone can get us into the Red Keep unnoticed it's him."
An older man made a noise of alarm.
Joran continued as if he hadn't heard. "Six warriors who don't care about breaking some rules and we have a chance." He looked at Theon. "If you can get us there?"
"Aye, I can do that." Even if he had to fight his own men to get them to agree, Theon could get them to King's Landing. Something like hope burned in him.
Joran ignored Tyrion, and the various people of import, looking instead at the guards in the room. "I only need five men then. Your Queen owes at least that much to your allies."
////
Willas Tyrell had been wary when the Goddess had asked to be taken to their gods' wood. But she had saved them and thus there was naught he would not do for her. Nothing. So he led her towards their face tree, the Three Singers, three trees having grown into one giant form. It was well tended as a sign of Highgarden's ancient roots from the times of the First Men. But it was ornamental rather than religious to them. Had been so for years.
He was grateful that the Goddess and the Stark Prince didn't seem to mind walking at his pace, nor did either show the faintest disgust or pity about his leg. Instead, they just ambled beside him toward the garden.
Jon Stark spoke, it sounded like he'd been dying to ask it for a while. "Why are we going to the gods' wood?"
"Because I'm not letting you out of my sight so you're stuck with me. I'd have just found it myself if you didn't need to come along." The Goddess glanced straight ahead, through the iron gates, and towards the trees. "They're kind of loud."
Willas swallowed questions on the tip of his tongue. She could hear the trees? He took in the way the two of them interacted though. But more than the casual ease between them, he was struck by the way the Goddess seemed as at ease in Tyrell colors and dress as she'd been in her Northern garb. The utter confidence and observational skills that would require were impressive all on their own.
As they walked the sun shone down on them full force, and Willas wondered at how these inner gardens didn't show the horror and damage that the lower circles held. The outer ring was a swamp of blood and gore and mud. The walls of the first two circles were in shambles. But here there was an odd peacefulness as if the battle had left it untouched. He looked up at the sound of a crow cawing.
The Goddess stopped walking, even as two servants were opening the gates into the gods' wood. She looked up as a raven circled over them cawing. She huffed. "Well, I guess they're waiting on us."
"They?" Willas wet his lips nervously. Out of the corner of his eyes, he realized the sky was filling with crows and ravens that had been feasting from the costs of war. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
The Goddess looked over her shoulder at him as she strode towards the last of the distance between them and the gods' wood. "The old gods."
He made a sound in the back of his throat that he was grateful she likely hadn't heard. After all, she was focused on what was ahead of them, birds swooping past and around her as she walked until she vanished from sight past the bushes.
Willas followed with trepidation and awe into the gods' wood. As a boy, he'd never cared for the gods' wood. It had felt like a servant's room, a place that was a part of his home but not for him. Not hostile, but not welcoming either. Not that there hadn't been awe at the three ancient weirwood trees that had grown near each other so long they had become one tree. Their strange and bleeding faces were…beautiful in their own terrible way. A testament to the ancient religion and beliefs of a bygone era. But it had never filled him with the…awe of a sept, the feel that something was real and there. At least not before this moment.
Standing before the Three Singers, the great weirwood of the Reach, stood their strange Goddess. The air felt unnaturally heavy and still, the red leaves of the great white tree rustling ever so slightly in a breeze that did not exist. And crows, crows everywhere all crying out as they circled, swooped, and dove in a great dome about this meeting. But the sound of their cries rang and echoed before they fell silent, alighting on whatever was nearest. The wall, the trees, the ground even.
His head snapped towards Prince Jon and the words died on his lips. Because the Northern prince looked as awed as Willas felt. The man had not been expecting this.
Willas didn't dare to approach closer, nor retreat out of the garden. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes away from the divinity before him.
////
Daisy grinned as a black bird that was probably a raven landed on her hand as soon as she raised it. Powers could be, so cool. She looked at its eyes, the gleam in them. And she certainly was aware the flocks of birds weren't normal. Which, she knew the signs of a warg. "Bran, here to translate then?"
The, probably a raven, cawed as it nodded.
"When this is over please tell your sister I'm sorry this is taking so long and I'll see her as soon as I can." She turned her attention to the face tree. The three faces thing was really cool. Their faces were all in different expressions in blood red sap. "I can feel your roots beneath this whole castle. And I know you feed on blood. So, what's up with the bloody swamp still being there?"
Daisy felt the harmonic singing of the weirwood, it changed slightly, deepening. She frowned slightly, there was a…sluggishness to it now that she focused on it and found that it was just slightly off. It felt like a whine, a groan maybe.
The birds cried out in a chorus of voices, "Tired." "Tired!" "Tired!"
"You brought me here, and now you can't even put in the effort to take in the blood sitting a few yards above your roots?" Daisy wondered if it was comforting or concerning the weird nature god…tree things…probably an alien plant honestly, wasn't capable of doing that much besides seeing shit?
The bird on her hand cried out, "Tired!" And the rest of the creepy flock cried out swelling the wood with their cries of "Tired." "Tired." "Tired!"
Daisy kind of wanted to sigh. Instead, she nodded, right so the magical, possibly alien, tree was tired. But if they didn't want like so much disease from what she'd done, she needed the trees to be useful for fucking once. "What do you need then?"
The vibrations of the tree changed, each of the individual trees creating a new harmony even as they each sang at a different pitch, despite having melded into each other. And the raven on her hand cried out. "Blood!" And the voices of the hundreds of others cried out in echo of it, "Blood." "Blood." "Blood!"
Daisy gave a faint nod and lowered her hand, the raven that had been perched there hopping to her shoulder. She slid out the knife she'd carefully hidden in the lovely, deep pockets artfully sewn into the gown she'd been given. It had really been that after years of SHIELD she didn't feel right without some kind of weapon while in territory she was unfamiliar with. But it turned out it would be useful. She considered this, whatever organism these trees were they were bound to the oaths sealed in blood to them. And if they weren't she'd make them wish that they were if they tried to cross her.
"Alright, you owe me more than just some minor cleanup if I do this." She stared at the gaping, bleeding faces in the tree. "I wake you up, you do more than just feed on the blood I spilled on your grounds."
The raven now perched on her shoulder cried out, "Grow!" and the hundreds of other birds echoed after it, "Grow." "Grow." "Grow!"
"Well, let's see what you can do then." Daisy winced slightly as she sliced her hand open. It was nothing, she pointedly ignored the sound of protest Jon made from behind her. Instead, she took the last three steps forward till she was at the base of the giant tree and pressed her hand to its bark, smearing her blood across its white surface. She didn't flinch at the pain it caused, it'd heal soon anyways.
As one every bird in the wood cried out in proper bird cawing sounds and took off in a great black mass before dispersing in the air. But it wasn't the weird birds that Daisy couldn't remove her gaze from. For the central face on the ancient tree had been drawn as if in pain, and its two sister faces had had eyes closed as if in sleep. But the very flesh of the tree moved as her blood soaked into the tree, leaving only unblemished white bark behind. The eyes of the two faces on either side opened. And the twisted mouth of the central face turned up in a smile, red sap leaking from its lower lip, an audible groan of the wood changing shape filled the space.
Daisy pulled her hand away but didn't stop the bleeding, letting her hand drip onto the grass under her feet. She wondered what these old gods were, really and truly. But she could feel it, the pitch and tone of the trees' vibrations changing, spreading out from where they stood throughout the root system that lay beneath Highgarden. And she smiled back at the tree. Cause she could work with this.
She let her careful control ease ever so and let her own vibrations sing back to the harmony the tree was making. It might not be as clear as the birds had been, but it was its own conversation. She would help them, but they owed her the same in return. And they both understood those terms. An exchange of service, and perhaps by the end of this they might even be something like allies. But she had no doubt the trees knew from her blood exactly what she'd considered doing to them when she'd realized they were connected to Bran Stark's emptiness. The threat wouldn't be lost on something that was trying to survive.