Chapter 106Notes:This chapter makes me happy
Chapter TextPodrick was trying, valiantly, to stay awake. The early light of dawn just beginning to lighten the horizon, the world still coated in darkness. He yawned, the last rotation of the night was the worst. But a round of the yards in the cold winter air would wake him up enough to finish the shift. And Lady Brienne liked to have a report of any goings on from the castle during the night when she woke up.
He shuffled to where Robert would be on the wall. He ran things around the main gate of Winterfell. "Morning."
"Ah, Pod, you on the last rotation again?" Robert shifted from where he'd sat on a barrel near the gatehouse.
Podrick gave a nod. "Aye, last one of the week. Somebody has to do it."
"Well, all quiet here. Had a few idiots get drunk and stumble in after the last of the taverns closed down. That black wolf, Shaggydog, he went out around moonrise, hasn't come back in though. Nearly scared the shite out of me. Can't see anything but its damn eyes at night." Robert gave a shiver.
Podrick didn't mention he found Ghost far more alarming, something that big shouldn't be that silent. Oh, the beast was gentle as a lamb for the Starks, but he'd seen it and the rest of the pack ripping apart an elk just outside the walls. "Certainly are something."
"They are at that. Wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of the damn things." Robert shook his head. "But don't you go worrying, it's been quiet, bit 'a snowfall but tha's about it."
He nodded. "Thank you as always."
"You just help keep our Queen alive and terrifying as fuck." The man chuckled as he spoke.
Which, well, Sansa Stark really had grown into a terrifying woman. Podrick couldn't really disagree about that. Even if he remembered her four and ten and sad, unable to stomach lemon cakes. He didn't think she ate them at all now. A thing that struck him as terribly sad. But it wasn't his place to comment on such a thing.
Podrick gave a wave of his hand and then trudged back into the dark. He thought perhaps he could see the soft color of the sky spreading. Not a lot of time then. A rooster was crowing somewhere, the sounds of the servants whose tasks required them to be up early just beginning to shuffle out. It was a long walk to the courtyard near the stables where Fitz's workshop and the blacksmiths were situated.
As he got closer he could hear the hammering. The light from the fires spilling out onto the snow-covered courtyard was beautiful and made it easier not to accidentally trip. He frowned slightly as he got to Fitz's workshop, the metal sounds were…off? Podrick knocked on the wooden door before ducking.
"Fuck, mornin already?" Crann looked up from where he was sweating and working on…the weirdest looking thing.
Podrick nodded. "Aye, light just hitting the sky." He'd learned to say 'aye' not 'yes'. His southern accent already stood out too much. Small changes in phrasing let him blend in better. Easier. "What is that?"
"I don't rightly understand it." Crann frowned. "But we're makin' a thousand rods, and they all have to be perfect." He shrugged.
He cast a look at where Fitz was bent over a table, the feverish madness that had seemed to ease back, ink splattered across his face. "Any changes?"
"Not really." Crann kicked at the ground. "Order'll drag him to his quarters tonight if we're still here."
The two shared a look, it wasn't really an 'if', they would be there. With Fitz like this, he wouldn't be leaving without force or threat of it.
Podrick patted Crann's forearm. "Well, good luck with that."
"Thanks." Crann's voice was dry. He grimaced. "If her Holiness drops by for a night or somethin' could you tell her he's not going well?"
Podrick nodded. He knew some of the men weren't entirely sure if their god was here more than they knew. From what he was aware, she wasn't sneaking in. But saying one way or another wasn't his place. "I'll see the guard knows to pass the message on if they can."
Crann sighed, he knew how weak that was. But he turned back to continue with his work.
Closing the door behind him, Podrick turned to make his way back to the royal wing. He'd asked what needed to be asked. Just had to report in and then he could sleep. Sleep sounded amazing, and the uneasy feeling the mad god touched man's presence faded. Reminded him of the feeling near Cersei Lannister back in King's Landing. It felt dangerous, and it felt unpredictable. He didn't wish to linger near the man.
As he slipped back into the walls of Winterfell the warmth was a relief. He walked through the halls, they were mostly empty save for the occasional man at arm or still waking servant. Podrick liked the halls at this time, he was invisible, just another face in a sea of half-asleep people doing the work the important people didn't bother with. And, frankly, he preferred this to pouring wine for Tyrion. Or paying whores or brushing out velvet doublets, fetching delicacies, or whatever his Lord had needed from him. He'd liked to serve Tyrion, and found it an honor. Had enjoyed it. But this felt…better. Like what he did here mattered.
Podrick squeaked in alarm as a face was suddenly two inches from his nose. "Ack!"
"Boy!" Tormund's unkempt ginger head was there, one of his giant hands slapping down on Podrick's shoulder. "I've been lookin' for ya!" His teeth were bright as he smiled widely at him.
Podrick knew stepping back or brushing the Wildling man off of him wouldn't do anything for him. "I'm busy, my Lord."
Tormund shorted. "Fuck that Lord shite, no you're master, I've got a gift for her." His face turned dreamy. "Thought you could give it to her. She won't eat your liver for delivering it."
Podrick knew exactly what gift the daft man meant. His eyes tracked under Tormund's other arm. And there was the white fur cloak made of a polar bear's hide. The hood was its head, the teeth carefully reattached into the treated hire to look fearsome. It was the sort of thing you'd think of a legend from the Age of Hero's wearing into battle. In the privacy of his own head, he thought Lady Brienne would look fearsome in it indeed. But she'd already turned it down five times now. "It would be improper-"
"Fuck that." Tormund shoved the thing into Podrick's gut, cutting him off. "See that she gets that. Good lad." He chuckled and then vanished down one of the dark, unlit, side halls.
Podrick stood there, he'd automatically caught the heavy cloak to prevent it from falling to the ground. Well, that had happened. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. With a soft groan, he shook his head and continued on his way. Best get it over with and then he could sleep.
The royal quarters were high up in the central keep of the vastness that was Winterfell. The floor below the royal rooms had been turned into a barracks for the guard, and those attached to them. Alyn Blackwood and himself were the only squires there currently, but Podrick knew that wouldn't last for long. Alyn had the small rooms beside Ser Loras's, Podrick's own being beside Brienne's. All the various guard quarters had small attached servant quarters or in some cases storerooms that had been turned into rooms for future squires. It was nice. The floor below had some rooms and storage, Ser Connin and his new wife's rooms were there. Likely any family quarters associated with the guard would in time come to be there.
It was smart, by keeping the two floors below the royal quarters filled with the guard, and their various supplies and such to put a buffer between any attacker and the royal rooms. The Starks of old had known what they were doing, even though it had clearly fallen out of practice since the Targaryen Conquest. The practicality of Winterfell was interesting after having spent years in King's Landing.
Podrick carefully grabbed a wooden tray and set it on the table in the large common area. Filling a bowl with water from the barrel by the fire, he set it on the tray. A clean towel fetched from one of the chests and folded onto the tray beside the bowl was next. Picking up the tray he made his way into Lady Brienne's bedchamber. He set the tray on the small table in one corner of his Lady's room. Taking the fur cloak he set it on top of the simple wooden chair in one corner.
Straightening he trotted out and fetched a cup of water, and a lit candle, and trotted back into her rooms. "Morning, my Lady."
Brienne groaned, her voice deep from sleep, and disgust at being called a Lady.
He bit back a smile, he'd call her a lady till the day he died. She deserved the respect, though he knew better than to call her that too often. "Quiet night, feels like we'll get more snow though."
She grunted, swinging her legs out of bed, hands scrubbing at her face. "Starks all sleep through the night?"
"Yes, her Grace was awake till moonrise. But nothing since then, and their Highnesses were asleep before that." He reported as he stepped back. "Is there anything else?"
Brienne looked up at him through her blonde locks. "Go on, to bed with you."
He tipped his head to her, opening the door and making his way out. He was going to collapse on his bed. Sleep, it would be so nice, his bedding was freshly clean from him seeing to the bedding in his and Lady Brienne's rooms yesterday. Yawning he could feel a satisfied smile on his face. He really should have expected something to ruin it.
A muffled male scream echoed from above them.
Podrick's eyes widened, he took off at a sprint for the narrow stairway up to the floor above. He came flying out into the hall, drawing his dirk prepared to fight any threat he could find. But he wasn't needed. Screeching to a stop he gaped in horror and awe.
Because standing in the archway of her bedchamber was Princess Arya. She looked like something out of a nightmare. Her white shift was spotless save for the splatter of blood across the fabric, her narrow sword in her hand, and her face deadly and cold.
Curled on the floor, where he'd half fallen, half scrambled, was the man who'd screamed. He was bleeding, a trail of blood leading out of her room as he clutched at his bloody hand. Clearly a Wildling, from the furs to the untamed beard and hair.
Podrick gulped, and carefully, hesitantly, took a couple of steps forward.
Ser Wagstaff, who'd come running from where he'd been guarding the hall looked like he'd been hit over the head. "Your Highness! What…?"
"That's what I wish to know." Princess Arya snapped her blade to the Wildling's throat. "Who, the fuck, are you?"
Brienne, sleep shirt, and britches barely yanked on, sword in one hand, feet bare, her voice was a growl. "Seize him!" Her attention instantly was on Princess Arya. "Are you unharmed?"
Podrick jerked forward grabbing the Wildling under one arm, as Wagstaff caught him under the other. He sheathed his dirk, ripped it, and tossed the man's dagger and just his whole belt lest there be any weapons hidden in it. Up close he could see the bleeding hand was missing a few fingers, and he'd certainly been stabbed at least twice. He grimaced, man needed a maester or he wouldn't last more than a few hours likely. Podrick had a terrible feeling that the stab wounds not being fatal in and of themselves was entirely purposeful.
"I'm unhurt." The princess's voice was cold and sharp, her grey eyes never leaving the Wildling man.
The man seemed to finally break free of the blind terror long enough to say something. "I wasn't trying ta kill you!"
"What were you doing then, climbing in through the window?" Princess Arya's voice was sharp, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly and mouth thinning.
Brienne swore under her breath. "The fucking windows."
"To steal you of course." The man defended hotly.
Podrick stared at the man, actually looking away from the murder princess despite every instinct in his body screaming at him not to do that. Who…who was so stupid they tried to steal a royal? He was a Wildling, that's not how marriage worked for royals. Even if he'd succeeded the Queen would have let her sister's wolves feast on the man for it.
The door to the Queen's chamber opened into the stupified silence.
Podrick looked up at the Queen, who well at least she had a proper dressing gown over herself, and a shiver ran down his spine. For Ghost, lips pulled back over his fangs was behind her. A blur of snarling reddish brown fur shot out from behind her, tiny little wolf teeth bared as it skidded between the Princess and the Wildling.
"What exactly is happening?" Her voice was as cold as her sister's and twice as commanding.
A drop of sweat went down the back of Podrick's neck. Well, he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. The wolf pup Joramun decided to lunge and start trying to rip the Wildling's leg open.
He dropped his hold on the Wildling and grabbed the wolf pup by the scruff of its neck. At least it hadn't tried to bite him this time?
////
Brienne accepted the offer of Podrick's cloak, her cheeks were heated as she was able to cover her sleep shirt and the unlaced britches she was wearing. She hooked the cloak over herself, handing her sword to Podrick to hold as she did so. She gave him a sharp nod as she took her sword back.
The Wildling idiot who'd caused this horrible morning to occur was whining as he was stitched up by Maester Wolkan. Name was apparently Bolran.
"Which clan are you a man of?" Sansa asked, somehow making a dressing gown pulled over her shift look regal. The giant white wolf and growly red pup about her certainly helped.
Bolran hissed as the fabric over one calf was cut off so the little teeth punctures could be stitched up. "Clan Nightrunner."
"And you wished to wed Princess Arya?" Sansa continued, neatly ignoring the poisonous expression on her sister's face since the reason for this whole mess had come to light.
Bolran grimaced as his bloody leg was cleaned. But then his gaze turned to Arya and it was disgustingly smitten. "You're good at stabbing."
"Can I slit his throat?" Arya asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
Sansa shook her head. "No. That said, Bolran, you understand you will be punished for this?"
"For just the chance of stealing a bride like her, wha's a punishment?" Considering how much of his face was tangled facial hair he shouldn't have sounded that breathy.
Brienne's jaw twitched, this was going to take forever till she could get dressed properly.
Brienne had been right, it'd taken an hour till the idiot Bolran had been dragged to the courtyard and put in the stocks for the day and sentenced to cleaning the privies for a moon turn once his stitches came out. But, she had finally managed to get dressed. The day hadn't gotten less terrible. But she'd made it past her rotation, and she could enjoy the quiet drinking and comradery of the great hall after the majority of the castle had left for their beds.
"Any luck getting rid of your Wildling suitor?" Princess Arya asked before taking a long pull from her tankard.
Brienne had to resist looking over to where Tormund was laughing with Greatjon and some few dozen men at arms and Lords, already fairly deep in their cups. "No."
"I'll help you hide the body if you ever kill him." Arya offered, her body turned still as she spotted someone approaching their corner of misery.
Brienne followed her gaze and spotted a Wildling approaching. This one looked unfortunately similar to Bolran. Same light brown hair, pale skin, and green eyes, only this one had more of a bit of patchy bit of scruff. Her hand dropped to her sword. "What do you want?"
The man, or maybe boy? He might have reached his full growth but he was clearly young. "You didn't let my brother steal you." His eyes had a bit of a twinkle in them as he pulled a knife, still in its sheath out of his fur jacket. "Thought you could use something better to stab him with next time?"
"You want me to stab your brother better?" Arya picked up the dagger, gingerly like it might bite her, But after checking the blade her brow rose. It was serrated along one edge. "This is castle steel, where'd you get it?"
The man huffed. "He's an arse. And I killed a Hornfoot who got it off a Crow."
"Should I be expecting you to try and steal me?" Arya was looking at him like she was considering trying out the knife on him immediately.
He shook his head. "Ya're too deadly for me, Princess. You got eyes tha' say death. I know I wouldn't make it past the threshold."
Brienne felt a sudden sensation of horror. "How many Free Folk might try and steal her Highness?"
"Well…anyone with eyes? Ya know?" He laughed.
Tormund strode over. "TORULAS! Get o're here ya mad fucker!" He dropped his arm over the boy's shoulders. "This fool tellin' you he's the fastest damn bastard ever born in the true North?"
"He was not." Brienne accepted they weren't going to get rid of the Wildlings unless the Princess decided to stab them.
The apparent Torulas shuffled. "We can't all be strong." But there was a smug twist of his lips. "If they can't stab you it doesn't matter."
Brienne was on her fourth mug of ale as she laughed, watching Podrick wrestling with Torulas while men laughed and called out advice. Both good and bad advice. Loras was banging his tankard on the table and shouting at Podrick to move his feet.
"You've trained the boy well." Lord Glover chuckled from where he was sat beside her. "He fights well."
She felt a thrum of pride at that, that she was allowed here, as a part of the men. And eying Podrick she could see the solid warrior that Podrick was turning into. "He's got heart."
"Aye, he's got that. Wouldn't have expected that from a Payne." Glover scoffed, shaking his head. "Damn southerners."
Brienne eyed the man. "Our Queen rules two southern Kingdoms."
Glover laughed, deep and rough. "Ya're not wrong." Shaking his head, smile on his lips and in his voice. "So, ya knighting the lad soon?"
"I can't, I'm not a knight." Her jaw tightened slightly as she refused to shrink at that truth. That she didn't quite belong.
Glover paused. "You're not a knight?!" His voice broke through the noise of the hall.
"Only a knight can make another knight, and tradition won't let a woman be a knight." She replied.
Tormund looked at her. "If I was a knight, I would knight you ten times over." He was utterly sincere in his own wild way.
Loras slammed his mug down. "Fuck that. You're Lord Commander of the Royal Guard. You're my Commander! You knock the rest of us into the mud." He stood up sharply, all puffy in indignation.
"The most honorable fucker here, and she's not a knight? That's some southern bullshite." Greatjon declared.
There were murmurs of agreement from the men in the hall. One of the men at arms, Brienne didn't know his name called out. "Why don't we ask the Queen to knight her? Nobody can say fuck all if the Queen does it."
"But, she's a woman?" Ser Jasper from the Vale protested weakly.
Tormund grabbed the front of his armor, raising a fist.
Ser Jasper yelped, raising his hands. "I'm not saying she's not good enough! It's tradition though….?"
Tormund glared before shoving the man back. And horrifyingly, he and Podrick shared a look of complete understanding.
It was…Brienne realized they meant it, they were upset on her behalf.
"Fuck tradition." Lord Glover grumbled.
Loras's eyes narrowed and he stomped over to her. "We don't need the Queen. Get up."
"What?" Brienne stared at him. He couldn't mean what that sounded like.
He drew his sword. "Get up, and kneel."
She met his gaze, and he was serious. Brienne swallowed, but she stood and dropped to one knee. Her every move felt weighted. It…if it was a joke it was the cruelest one imaginable.
And Ser Loras Tyrell, one of the most celebrated knights of the realm set his sword on her shoulder. The entire hall fell silent as every man there watched, and none opposed. His voice was steady, the glibness that so often there gone. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise Brienne of Tarth, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."
Brienne rose to her feet, a tremble to her fingers. This was real. There were cheers, applause.
"Get another barrel of ale!" Greatjon roared while hopping to his own two feet to go see to acquiring such a thing.
A hand slapped her on her shoulder.
Brienne turned and found herself looking at Loras.
He just smiled, genuinely. "Congratulations, Ser Brienne."
And she beamed.
Chapter 107Notes:Yo! Sorry for not getting to everyone's comments last week, I've had a pretty crazy week. I read all of them though! Thank you very much!
Chapter TextWillas was tired, and grateful his leg was at least allowing him to limp short distances today. The swelling was also down enough he could wear proper britches again. He wished he could say he'd learned his lesson, but well, he really hadn't. Still, he was more able to go over letters and ensure the Reach was mustering its forces with as much speed as possible. Their Queen would not be content to wait much longer, and the journey North would take time, even by ship. He frowned, and the loss of the Tarly forces was an issue.
There was a knock on the door. "My Lord." A baffled looking expression on his secretary's face. "Prince Olyvar Martell to see you, my Lord."
"Well, let him in." Willas straightened his spine, setting his quill aside as he sat at his desk.
And in swanned Olyvar Martell in his orange and yellow silks. "Lord Tyrell, I was hoping to catch you this morning."
He set the letter he'd been writing on top of the proposed trade deal with the North he'd been finishing the night before. "What brings you to my solar, your Highness?"
"Certainly not that trade deal you're trying to hide." Olyvar grinned, it was shark like. He waved a hand. "Prince Jon is rather too free with his words near his squires."
Willas's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. While true that the Prince was not a political animal, he wasn't stupid. He doubted that was the true source of the man's information. "Did he now?"
"He's a Northerner." Olyvar shrugged as he dropped onto the settee to one side of the solar, stretching upon it as if this was home. "But none of that, it would seem we are to be allies, you and I."
Willas leaned back in his seat. "Indeed."
"Please, don't go acting like the bad blood between our Houses is something you give two fucks about. I found some very interesting records when I took over Sunspear. You gave Oberyn his horse? Magnanimous of you considering your leg."
He gave the other man a considering look, of the players in Dorne this man had never been essential or really worth much notice at all. A fact he rather cursed now. "It was a joust, his hit was good. My leg becoming tangled was not his fault. And I found him rather charming." He chuckled at the sudden interest on the other man's face. "Not like that, but he was good company. Fabulous taste in wine."
"Interesting," Olyvar replied.
Willas considered the offer being made. "You haven't made your distaste for me and mine subtle."
"Please, you roses grow like weeds. And you're always plotting. It's exhausting to keep up with, not to mention your father was an intolerable man." Olyvar held up his hand. "I am sorry for your loss, but he left a poor taste in the mouths of everyone he had dealings with."
Willas gave a slight, though unhappy, nod. "You delight in being contrary."
"Of course, far more interesting than being ingratiatingly pleasant." Olyvar's expression turned more serious. "But I don't waste the time of those I'm speaking to. If we fight each other we'll tear ourselves apart and leave room for other, less loyal players to get their claws in or further into our Queen's court."
Willas actually gave pause at that. "An alliance then. It would never work, our two kingdoms have never trusted nor liked one another enough for such a thing to be sustainable in any meaningful way."
"They would if we bound our two Houses." Olyvar's face was deadly serious.
His eyes widened. "Marriage."
"More than one." Olyvar gestured between them. "We are both unwed. I marry one of you Tyrells, you marry a Martell. We force our people to bind our two kingdoms together. We both want the same thing. Power and Influence with the Dragon Queen, the Lannisters ripped to pieces, to survive the Dead, and our Houses to prosper."
Willas's mind raced with the implications of the alliance being proposed. The benefits of having a staunch ally. "You'd be willing to take a Tyrell from one of the branch families to wife?"
"If you are willing to take my sister as wife," Olyvar replied, his dark eyes utterly serious. "I also have a companion with me, Ser Perros Blackmont, heir to the Blackmont of the line of the Vulture Kings. Such a powerful, and loyal bannerman being married to the same house as their Prince would certainly secure certain things. And I have more than enough cousins of varying degree no doubt you have a suitible heir of the Reach to wed. Such a thing could be very useful to you, yes?"
He folded his hands on top of his desk. "To bond our two Houses but also our kingdoms…that is not a thing to be lightly done." Willas hummed, his House alone would be limited, and depending on nepotism from Jon Stark would be idiotic. The man was too honorable to be ensnared like that. Well, not easily or lightly. But the two most powerful kingdoms of the south uniting could create a power block that would make controlling what was to come not just possible, but nearly assured. The offer was tempting. Dangerous, however.
"I don't suggest it lightly." Olyvar didn't blink. "Daenerys Targaryen will remake our world if we survive."
Willas breathed out slowly. "IF, I agree to this alliance, we would have to be utterly united in our goals."
"We would be, but I think we already are. We've backed the same Queen, we hate the same people, and we both want security for our people. That is more than many alliances are built on."
The thing was, he wasn't wrong. Willas waved to his secretary. "Wine, for my guest and I."
////
Sansa glanced to where Brienne was standing stiffly in the corner. "Enjoy the celebration last night, Ser?"
It was wonderful to watch the poor, clearly hungover woman, still manage to practically glow at the title 'Ser', her cheeks flushing with pleasure. "Yes, your Grace."
"And Ser Brienne, congratulations." Sansa held back the praise she could give. It wouldn't even be platitudes, simply the truth that Brienne was the embodiment of every idea of knighthood there was. But Brienne wouldn't want that.
Brienne managed to straighten even further. "Thank you, your Grace."
She looked back to her work, a soft smile on her lips. It was peaceful, even Joramun was passed out by the fire. These quiet times were a balm. She paused. "I assume my sister's windows have been secured?"
"Of course, your Grace," Brienne reported with all the promptness and dependability that so characterized her service.
Sansa hummed in acknowledgment. "Good, you should alert the guard to expect more attempts at stealing my sister." It was going to be absolute chaos once Arya realized exactly how many men wanted her as wife. Sansa wouldn't interfere, Arya could choose herself a husband or simply distract the court if she didn't want one yet. Well, Sansa would interfere if anyone tried to force Arya into something. But she doubted it would come to that. Besides, Arya's expression as it dawned on her that she was the most eligible and sought-after bride in the kingdom would be delightful. Sansa was giving it a week for her to realize.
She pressed her seal into the wax at the bottom of a document giving limited judicial power to a mayor for Wintertown. Frankly, she hadn't the time to handle every minor matter of law. Pulling out a near identical stack of documents for each of the towns on Tully lands. For now, Lord Blackwood was managing those lands, but she needed him undistracted by every petitioner and crime.
The issue of the vast tracks of land she was directly in control of was somewhat pressing. She could only put off awarding it to various individuals for so long. And it was an exhausting amount of work. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Daisy pointed out that she'd known about this snowballing issue for months and delegation was common sense. She really ought to just give the Karhold to Arya and be done with that particular headache. But…Sansa cringed at the thought of Arya's reaction to getting handed that much bureaucratic drudgery.
Sansa was going to dig into her legal code if they lived. It was a mess and clearly needed years to be turned into something actually just. But now wasn't the time for that, no matter how much it irked her. Affixing her signature and seal on already written documents was…boring.
The solid rap of Loras's knuckles on the door, followed by the door opening, announced the arrival of Lord Manderly and broke up the silence.
Sansa straightened, glad for the interruption. "Lord Manderly, please." She waived for the chair by the fire, rising to her feet and stepping around her desk.
"Your Grace." He bowed deeply, before rising and taking the offered seat. The wood creaked ever so slightly from his weight.
Sansa shot a glare at Joramun as the pup snarled at her Master of Ships. "My apologies, Joramun seems to be trying to live up to his namesake."
"I can see you've already got him in hand." Wyman Manderly had a faint spark of amusement to him and he pulled out the documents she'd sent to him earlier that morn. "But this proposal, your Grace…"
Sansa raised a brow, as she scooped up Joramun before he could decide to try and bite Manderly despite knowing he was not permitted to. She took a seat opposite the man, her hands easily holding her wolf pup, one hand lazily scratching at Joramun's ears. "You believe it's impossible?"
"Something akin to this hasn't been attempted since the Dance of the Dragons, and it caused that orgy of death," Manderly spoke carefully. "To change the laws of succession that is…I can only say that it is folly, your Grace."
She hummed, he had a point. "Despite how it would further secure your own House's position you would oppose our laws changing from male primogeniture to a system of straight agnotic primogeniture then?"
"I would." He looked her in the eye even as he denied her. "It would be folly, the North might accept such a thing, but the Vale and Riverlands would bleed before they allowed it."
Sansa couldn't say she hadn't expected his answer. "A better goal for our stability than a reality then?"
"Aye, I can see why you would wish such a thing, but not even you could see this law established and followed. Not without your lover making those that would oppose such a thing tremble in terror, your Grace."
"Do you agree that our current inheritance laws must be changed, my Lord?" She asked, he was an idiot if he didn't. Her fingers idly played with one of Joramun's paws. They were comically large on him at the moment. He'd grow into them soon enough.
Manderly's expression was sharp. "They won't thank you for changing them."
"They will if we start small." Sansa gestured to the documents in his hand. "That is a future goal for say, five years from now."
He folded his hands over his stomach. "And because of my son's lack of male issue you know I will support the incremental changes needed to achieve that. Which change first then, your Grace?"
"Sons, then daughters, then brothers, uncles, and so on. If a Lord has only daughters, or if a Lord's sons have died his daughter will inherit." Sansa held her Lord's gaze. "Already that is done, though it is not…entirely legal. Inheritance law is needlessly complex as it is. Lord Glover's summary of both tradition, and law, and when those laws are enforced on the matter is a headache at best. So we lay it out. It is close enough to what already is that none should oppose it. Not on the eve of a war that will kill a great many sons." Sansa scoffed. "As it is sometimes brothers inherit, sometimes daughters. A great deal depends on how the Lord has established the line, and how willing to follow his wishes his heirs and men are."
Manderly clearly considered her words. "It will not be popular...but as you say, as sons die in droves in the war to come the wisdom of it should bare out. I must ask, why this issue now, your Grace?"
"Because those sons are about to die." Sansa let her exasperation show faintly. "I've legitimized more bastards since the crown was placed on my head than most kings do in their lifetimes. I've arranged matrilineal marriage for your daughter, and she will hardly be the last woman I will have to do such a thing for. Likely Meera Reed as well, my sister certainly. The wars have killed many, and they will kill thousands more yet."
He seemed to pause. "Have you considered you are approaching the issue wrong, your Grace?"
"I had. I assume you have a suggestion?" Sansa leaned back in her seat, Joramun licking at her fingers.
Manderly gave a nod. "Write a legal code for matrilineal marriage, not as a thing to be individually approved at your discretion but as a real legal possibility. Entrench it as an option. If you have five Lords of decently powerful Houses use it, you'll have won. By the end of the wars to come, that number will increase. You're not wrong, a great many Houses will have no male heirs of their main line if they have any at all. Do that, and in thirty years changing our kingdom to the Dornish model of inheritance will be possible, your Grace."
"Do you believe Lord Glover would support it?" Sansa mulled the idea over, it would be less opposed certainly…a promising idea as it was merely an extension of what she was already doing.
He looked decidedly dangerous for a moment. "Lord Glover can be persuaded."
"Without giving him cause to be displeased?" Sansa challenged, she'd be forced to remind Manderly he served her at her pleasure if he thought otherwise.
Manderly tipped his head to her. "Not like that your Grace. Rather, he has a daughter near your cousin's age in the Vale."
Which...that was interesting as an idea. Not one she'd have considered truly, but any displeasure at such a thing could easily be directed at Lord Baelish. "Lord Glover is of a masterly House, no matter how high they've risen."
"He's your Master of Laws, blood of the First Men, and your cousin is half mad. A strong wife, but not too strong would not be too bitter an action." Manderly pointed out. "Of course if you were to put such a scheme to Lord Baelish…"
"It would be good as done." Sansa nodded. She considered Lord Manderly, he was her chief and most powerful supporter within the North. It also made him dangerous. "And would ensure my cousin doesn't marry into a House with naval interests that could challenge yours."
He laughed, eyes sharp. "You don't miss much. But I will admit it's a benefit, your Grace."
"You realize of course the position that places me in?" Sansa carefully soothed Joramun whose chest had begun to vibrate with a growl that was not yet audible.
Manderly was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving her. "I do, of course I will never be your Hand, nor will any lands you award go to my House. I assume you intend to strengthen some of my less friendly neighbors to prevent my block from gaining too much power, your Grace?"
"You're not wrong I will never name you my Hand, nor award you more land." She considered him, but there were ways to weaken his power block by forming rival ones, and gently encouraging some of his allies to become…less entwined with him. And of the various power blocks within her realm, the Manderly-headed one was the least worrying. It was more the power the man was accumulating as Master of Ships in a time where food and dragonglass came through his port, and his port alone could easily become…concerning. "It's unfortunate we have no members of our respective Houses to wed."
"A tragedy indeed." He looked on her warmly, no doubt hearing the implication she did not mean to support his rivals directly. At least not for now. "Perhaps in the next generation, your Grace?"
Sansa hummed. "Perhaps, but then that is a matter for some years from now. I would not be opposed to considering the possibility, however, my Lord."
Sansa was fairly drained by the time she reached her bedchamber. She audibly groaned. "Please say whatever it is, is not pressing?"
"The perfect Queen not so perfect? I'm shocked and appalled." Arya drawled from where she was leaning against one wall, Nymeria sitting beside her, near blocking half the room.
Sansa waved off Loras. She'd be fine with her sister although she paused as Joramun took off at a sprint for Nymeria snarling. Sansa's spine straightened, Joramun knew the pack, he wasn't hostile toward them.
"Fuck!" A very familiar voice yelped as Daisy rolled out from where she'd apparently been behind Nymeria.
Arya groaned. "You're pathetic."
"Daisy!?" Sansa blinked. "What are you doing here? I thought…why are you sneaking?"
Daisy held Joramun's eyes before holding out her hand to be sniffed.
Everyone, Sansa included winced, he'd bitten legitimately everyone he'd met so far save herself, and her siblings. But, the wolf pup gave Daisy a considering sniff…and then licked her fingers.
Sansa stared in muted confusion as her demon of a direwolf was in Daisy's arms and being enthusiastically snuggled within twenty seconds.
"I think you just got ignored," Arya smirked as she pushed off from where she'd been leaning against the wall toward Sansa. "How does it feel to be mortal?"
Daisy rolled her eyes. "Avoiding losing a finger." Her face softened. "And who is this handsome baby?" Her voice was a coo.
"His name is Joramun, Tormund, and Meera thought it'd be fitting to bring him back." Sansa walked to her wife.
Daisy looked up at her, her face a bright smile. "He's adorable." She caught the side of Sansa's face with one hand, Joramun still tucked against her in her other arm and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Hi, I was hiding from a slight religious crisis I might have caused and realized if I was already hiding I could be here. But uh…just didn't mention I was leaving to anyone? Then ran into Arya first and she thought surprising you would be fun."
"Please don't debase my sister in front of me." Arya's nose was wrinkled. "My good deed of the day is done, I have a Wildling or two to stab."
Sansa paused, looking over at her sister. "Please don't murder all of them."
"No promises." Arya waived as she vanished out of the room, Nymeria on her heels.
She sighed, looking back at her wife. "You're ridiculous. And don't think I didn't hear the religious crisis bit."
"Missed you." Daisy smiled kissing her again.
And, Sansa felt the weight of her day melting off. She ignored the sound of Loras closing the door and fleeing. Her eyes closed, she pressed her forehead against Daisy's. "You only just left, but I've missed you as well."
Daisy swooped down, setting Joramun on the floor before straightening, her hands falling to Sansa's waist. "How long did the council meeting go?" Her tone was gently teasing.
"Four hours with Lord Manderly discussing marital legal code." Sansa let out a distinctly unladylike sound and let her head fall onto Daisy's shoulder, her arms wrapping around Daisy's shoulders as well.
Daisy hummed. "Marriage laws?"
"I can't change inheritance laws outright, not without paying a steep cost. But I can allow a man to marry into a House to secure a line that is reduced to only daughters." Sansa couldn't have described the relief of not having to watch her every word. Of knowing that Daisy would understand.
And sure enough, Daisy made a sound of understanding. "So, men suck, but you're working around it."
"Essentially." Sansa gave herself a few more seconds before pulling back. "How long can you stay?"
Daisy raised one hand and made a wiggling motion. "Few hours." She glanced pointedly at where Joramun was whining.
Sansa laughed pulling back. "Yes, go ahead. I'm shocked he's not trying to bite you."
"I'm just awesome." Daisy dropped onto the rug before the fire, automatically grabbing the braided rope toy Rickon had made for Joramun.
She smiled fondly, shaking her head. Well, she'd lost her wife's complete focus. It warmed her seeing the genuine delight on Daisy's face at the very existence of the pup.
Sansa stepped to one of her chests and unlaced her gown, and girdle before removing them and replacing them with a warm dressing gown and joining Daisy by the fire. "You do know I have several perfectly good chairs?"
"Puppy." Daisy grinned, leaning into Sansa where she'd sat beside her. "And I don't know, I think sitting on the floor is just our thing at this point."
Sansa laughed. "You're not wrong." And well, just this sounded like a dream way of spending her evening. She laid her head on Daisy's shoulder.
Chapter 108Notes:Sup! Killed a giant spider today...real uncomfy something that large was in my house for god knows how long.
Chapter TextLeonette Tyrell felt a faint paul of dread where she stood as she saw the brown eyes of the Goddess Quake fixed on her as the Goddess strode into the garden that luncheon was being served in. She'd felt a change in the past few days in how the Goddess' attention weighed on her. The way the Goddess had sought out herself and her husband Garlan could have been innocent. But the way the Goddess' eyes found her instantly, the considering expression on her face…that meant something.
She sipped at the wine that tasted sour on her tongue. Because the truth was her marriage, her wants, would matter less than nothing if the Goddess had decided she wanted her. It was already near a miracle the Goddess had asked for so little since she'd arrived. Some men might keep to a single mistress, even the most powerful. Leonette and her husband had prayed that was the case with the Goddess. Had prayed for it desperately as she sought them out more and more.
It wasn't that the Goddess wasn't pleasant company, or that she was hideous or odious in some way. Seven Hells, almost every man, and woman in Highgarden would stab her just to have the gaze of the Goddess drawn to them instead. Why couldn't it have been one of them? Why her? She'd not wished for it, and yet she knew as the Goddess easily slipped to her side that it would not be put off much longer. The Goddess had decided.
Leonette curtsied. "Holiness."
"Nothing but berries?" The Goddess' tone was amused, a lopsided smile on her face, and her eyes smiled as well.
She straightened. "The perils of being mortal, occasionally our stomachs rebel." And hopefully, the mention of an upset stomach would see the inevitable delayed.
Goddess Quake offered her arm. "Well, if you're not planning on eating, could we talk somewhere a bit more private?"
Well…that was that then. Leonette swallowed down her feelings on the matter. She knew her duty. So she set her near-empty plate and cup aside. And then she slid her arm through the offered crook of the Goddess' arm. "Of course your Holiness."
"It's nothing bad." Daisy laughed, her voice kind. It was infuriating and comforting all at once.
Leonette refused to show her feelings on the matter, they were irrelevant. She cast her eyes to the side meeting her husband's stricken face as he seemed to realize exactly what was happening. It took more strength than she knew she had to give the best smile she could to him. They'd spoken of it. Had known it might happen. Of course, they'd been unsure which of them, or possibly both, that had the Goddess' attention. But it seemed it was her. And her darling Garlan could do nothing, even if he knew her grief at this, he could do nothing. So there was no point in facing it with anything but bravery and a smile that felt too brittle on her face.
She wasn't sure how she kept her voice even. "I believe I will need several lifetimes before your presence does not cause nerves, Holiness." Her humor was forced. Whether she'd hidden the depth of her unease, or whether the Goddess was pretending to be deceived she did not know.
"The curse of powers, nobody ever really forgets you have them." The smile wasn't really in her eyes any longer.
Leonette swallowed, the Goddess' good humor fading was something she could ill afford. It was unlikely to spare her, and better a pleasant divine being. "I can understand the desire to be seen for oneself and not your position. Sometimes it can be quite restricting."
"Sansa thinks I get twitchy about it because I'm not used to the worship or reverence thing. Kind of a weird thing to complain about. It's not even bad, just…weird cause it's not bad?" Goddess Quake brushed her blue lock of hair behind one ear.
Which, Leonette saw a possible option for escape in the Goddess' words. "Her Grace sounds like a remarkable woman."
"She is." And oh, Goddess Quake's face was desperately fond in a way that Leonette wasn't even sure the Goddess was aware of. "I hear people talk about her here and it's like they're talking about a completely different person."
Leonette was curious, knew it was valuable information, and knew it was the best option for distracting the Goddess for at least one more day. "What is she like then? I never met her when she was in King's Landing."
"Sansa is fierce in everything she does. And you can see it in her face, it'll be smooth as anything but you know she's seeing more than anyone else in the room. And she loves like that too. The Starks are more like those wolves of theirs than you'd think." Goddess Quake's left thumb rubbed absently at the direwolf ring on her finger. "Also I'm pretty sure she treated me like a spooked direwolf when we first met."
She let out something like a giggle at that. It was ridiculous, but well, she could see the reason behind it. "A direwolf, really?"
"Hey, I think it worked in my favor actually." Goddess Quake grinned, and oh it was so painfully clear she loved her Northern Queen.
Leonette swallowed at that. If only love of one meant lust for one as well. "Are the wolves truly the size of horses?"
"More like pony sized." Goddess Quake lowered her voice slightly. "Sansa spoils them rotten. Ghost has been sleeping in her room and usually in her bed since Jon left. And I know she sneaks them bites of things from her plate. Any wolf that's been with her in her rooms has a distinctly brushed-looking coat." Goddess Quake slowed as they reached the fountain. Ah, the sound from the water would keep their voices unheard. They were still quite visible to the party, but separate enough to give some illusion of privacy.
Leonette steeled herself, it would seem words of the Goddess' love had not been enough. "Holiness?" Perhaps it was petty, but she would have the Goddess ask it. Not that she could say no, but she would not offer herself up unasked.
"Are you ok?" Goddess Quake shifted as Leonette's arm slid out from the crook of her own. "Here, sit down before you keel over." Her hand gently caught her upper arm.
And well, Leonette let her gently guide her into sitting on the edge of the fountain. "My apologies, I don't know what came over me."
"Hey, nothing to be sorry about." Goddess Quake was so unbearably nice about it.
And it wouldn't be that bad. Leonette met the concerned eyes of the Goddess. "If I may, what is it you wished to speak to me about?"
She blinked but then nodded, reached out, and took her hand, squeezing it warmly. "Right, so um…I'm not sure if you're aware or not, but you're pregnant. Or with child, or however you guys say it."
Leonette stilled utterly.
What?
That…with child? One hand suddenly pressed to her flat stomach.
The Goddess kept speaking into the silence, maybe just to fill it. "I can feel heartbeats, and wasn't sure at first just cause it's very soft and kinda fluttery? But since I've been using you and Garlan as meatshields from some of your relatives, which you both have been very nice about letting me do that, I kinda got used to your vibrations so I noticed the change. I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible?"
Meatshields.
Leonette couldn't help the half-strangled laugh that burst from her lips. Oh gods, it'd never been lust. She and Garlan had been so caught up in their fears…they were so stupid.
And pregnant.
All her hopes and dreams she'd begun to suspect would never be, suddenly were.
Leonette was aware when the tears began to run down her face. Only one moment she was sitting on the edge of the fountain staring at the face of an alarmed looking Goddess, and the next she'd half slid to the ground, only to be caught in strong arms, as she sobbed in sheer relief into the fine wool of the Goddess' Northern styled jerkin. She'd not been so glad since her marriage to a man she loved.
She wasn't barren.
And she sobbed.
"Please Holiness, she's my wife." Garlan's voice was suddenly there, near vibrating with desperation.
Leonette reached out blindly, catching his calloused hand, and then she was in his arms. Her words spilled out. "A baby! We're to have a baby!"
He stiffened from where he had wrapped her in his arms like that would have protected her from any insult possibly given. His voice trembled. "You're with child?"
Leonette couldn't get more words out, her joy near choked her.
"I can feel the heartbeat." Goddess Quake's voice was quiet.
Garlan swung her in a circle, words of love and thanks on his lips. And who gave a fig for the scene they were no doubt causing? She was with child!
////
Arya poked Baelish in the back.
He made a delightful sound of alarm, twisting around towards her. His face looked pained as he straightened his ugly black surcoat. "Your Highness."
"My sister wants something done." Gods, it was pathetic how quickly that had his attention. "I'd rather not spend hours whispering here and there to get it done."
Baelish's narrow mustache twitched faintly with that stupid smug, condescending expression he thought no one could see through. "I see, and what is this thing you wish me to do for you?"
"Our cousin, Robyn Arryn is of age with Lord Glover's daughter." Arya arched a brow, "You understand?"
"I thought our fair Queen intended to hand the Vale to the Targaryen Queen in exchange for armies and dragons against the Dead?" He was clearly putting pieces together of what Sansa wanted him to see.
Arya drew her new serrated dagger, spinning it between her fingers. "For now." She kept her words specific and light as if they didn't paint a very specific picture that Sansa wanted to be painted. Which, these new games of Sansa's were far better than Sansa's ones with dolls from when they were girls. Arya liked these games. "We need dragons, peace on our borders, trade, alliances. But once the Dead are gone…" She trailed off pointedly as she gave a particularly fancy twist of the dagger. "Well, even dragons can be killed."
She could see him putting together the pieces in a fraction of a second. No Dead, and come spring the North would be stable again. Trade and alliances with the Reach, marriages and trade with the Vale, a Targaryen dynasty of one. One death and the Kingdoms would cry out for Sansa to take the Iron Throne. Of course, it was stupid, Sansa would never take the damned thing. But, well, it was temptingly plausible.
"Food for thought." Baelish tipped his head to her.
With a quick movement, she sheathed her dagger. "Great, I have a baby brother to hunt down." She spun on her heel and left without a backward glance. It was delicious knowing how much that had to irritate a proud man like Baelish. Her sister might be good at being kinda evil, but Arya liked to think she was the expert at being a dick.
She headed for the gods' wood. Rickon had the wolves in there. He'd been taking his job of helping train Joramun very seriously. It was delightful how much that was not going to go well considering Rickon and Shaggydog were, well, they were Rickon and Shaggydog.
////
Garlan felt buoyed up with effervescent joy. His Leonette was with child. An answer to their prayers. He couldn't keep the smile off of his face, and wouldn't have tried even if he could. Instead, he just drank from the wine Willas had ordered brought out to celebrate.
"You're sure her Holiness wasn't insulted?" Grandmother asked, though even she sounded pleased despite that at the news of her first great-grandchild.
Garlan laughed breathlessly. "No, no she wasn't insulted."
"My handsome boy." His mother Alerie patted his cheek. "You're going to be a father."
His chest puffed with pride and excitement.
Willas laughed from where he'd been trapped on a settee with his leg raised. "When she is further along we will throw a feast to celebrate." He raised his hand. "But she's well?"
"Just tired from the day." Garlan had seen the exhaustion on her face and insisted she go to bed early. He'd join her later. The change from resigned, helpless grief to sheer joy had been sharp and left him breathless and wrung out. He'd have to have a servant sent to the town to fetch the blackberry tarts Leonette adored from the baker just off the Rose Road.
It was good as a family to have this moment together to celebrate. So it really shouldn't have been surprising for a knock on the door, and then Arryk, one of Grandmother's giants of a guardsman cleared his throat. "Her Holiness, the Goddess Quake."
And sure enough, as all of them in the room stood, or attempted and then stopped suddenly like Willas, Goddess Quake walked in.
"Your Holiness, you are most welcome." Willas offered, his face warm and fairly frustrated.
Goddess Quake looked at Willas with something like amusement. "If you want to injure yourself from standing too soon feel free, but don't do it for me."
"I'll make a note of it." He replied, with surprisingly good humor. It was rather shocking, Willas hated when people assumed he couldn't do something. "How can we be of service this evening?"
She huffed lightly before the humor faded from her face. And then she was serious in a way she rarely was. "I'm not from your world, and I've clearly misread the situation here." Goddess Quake's eyes flicked across them, though they returned to Willas. "I didn't see the harm in it and thought it was kinda funny. But I was wrong, I owe you an apology for that."
"Your Holiness? What…-" Willas started to speak before cutting off suddenly at the flick of her hand requesting silence.
She continued as if she wasn't speaking near heresy to imply she owed them anything at all. "I'm not going to fuck anyone here." Her voice was clear and certain. "I am not and never have, or will fuck Jon. And I'm kinda horrified everyone constantly is expecting me to. Your various cousins and relatives flirting or whatever wasn't something that was more than kinda exasperating. Even kinda funny sometimes. But I missed the expectations everyone clearly had when I didn't stop it. I should have known better, fuck I know how 'gods' treat humans. So I'm going to be real clear. Even if I was interested in someone, and I'm not, even then I wouldn't touch them sexually, let alone fuck them. You probably wouldn't see it that way, but to me it would be rape. And I might be a monster, but I'm not that."
The sheer, utter sincerity was practically radiating from every fiber of the Goddess's being as she stood there. She kept speaking as if her words were not confounding. "Also, your castle is very nice, your things are nice, it's all very nice. It doesn't matter to me. Not because I have some fabulous divine whatever that makes your home look quaint. It doesn't matter because I don't care about wealth or luxury or the rest of it. If I wanted those things in my world I could have them, it wouldn't be hard. But I never did because it seemed kinda pointless. I like you all, you don't need to keep trying. And I know I got named the Destroyer of Worlds, but I'm not going to hurt any of you. I mean short of someone trying to stab me or Jon or whatever I'm not going to hurt someone. And even then I'd only hurt the idiot who did the stabbing." She waved at the wall.
"Every single one of your Lords out there could insult me and I wouldn't be mad at you." She shrugged. "I mean if you told them to I'd be upset. But I don't like hurting people. So just to be real fucking clear, you can tell me 'no.' You can ask me shit and even if I'm not ok with it that's fine, you can still ask."
There was a ringing silence.
Garlan swallowed as her brown eyes turned on him. He barely kept from dropping to his knees. Garlan had never been a man who worshiped the gods as more than habit or convenience. But he felt it, the reverence. He'd been wrong. He'd been so caught up in petty human concerns… "Holiness."
"Right, I understand if you never want to speak with me again Garlan." And she looked…ashamed. "But if you want, I'd like to talk to you."
He stepped forward. "Of course." Garlan hesitated at the doubt that flickered across her face. She doubted his sincerity. "Please?"
Garlan wasn't sure what to say as they walked on the walls of Highgarden. They'd said nothing as they'd walked here. He felt compelled to speak. "I seem to have misjudged you at every turn."
"I used you and Leonette to avoid people when it got frustrating." Goddess Quake sighed. "I didn't realize what you thought was happening till she broke down. It wasn't…people are scared of me. Ignoring that is the only way I talk to almost anyone. I shouldn't have."
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. "We assumed without question. It…it'd have been your right to take either of us."
"No." She stopped, turning to face him. "It wouldn't be my right. No one has that right. Ever."
The breath in his lungs stilled. "You…deserve far kinder names than you have been given." Because he could feel it in his bones. They'd been blinded by her names and powers. "What would you wish to be called?"
She hesitated. "Well, already told your brother to call me Daisy."
"Then thank you for the news and kindness you showed my wife and I this day, Daisy." He said, nearly twitching at the use of her name.
She smiled faintly before falling serious once more. "I'm sorry, just so sorry, that I ever gave you reason to think I'd ever have hurt either of you. I can't make it better."
Garlan frowned slightly. He didn't know how to explain she owed no apologies. Even if she would have considered it a crime to have taken either himself or Leonette, she'd never done such a thing. Looking back, what had they built their fears on? That she spoke with them often? That a woman who they'd all noticed was free with touch was just that? Brief nudges or brushing. She'd never even touched either of them as much as a single dance might require outside of the dance floor.
It was…she'd never done a thing beyond show simple friendship, and they'd built their own conclusions off of it. He wanted to apologize for the arrogance of it but he doubted the Goddess would listen to it. A Goddess who had called herself a monster…and who had insisted they could ask things of her. "If you wish, I believe our score at cyvass is still two to four?"
"You want to play a game?" She asked carefully.
He tipped his head in deference. "You didn't do it for me, but you saved my life. My wife's life. My entire family's lives. You've given us more than even Grandmother could have imagined asking in her wildest, and most selfish dreams. And you asked for nothing in return."
"I asked for the North in return." She arched a brow staring at him dryly.
Garlan shook his head. "Daenerys paid for a siege broken. You saved us all. I have been…an idiot. I think we all have been. We've been trying to find some way to pay you back, to find what you might wish from us and I believe we failed to notice the obvious." Gods they really had been fools. She'd stood there in Willas's solar and spoken with more moral fortitude and conviction than any mortal he'd imagined could exist. No wonder she liked the Starks, they might be the only House honorable enough to be worth her notice. "You are good."
"I slaughtered an army. In front of you. I've stolen, killed, kinslayed, broken guest rite, spied, assassinated…I try to do good, but Garlan, Yelshire wasn't totally wrong. Mostly, but he wasn't just blowing smoke."
If he didn't feel unworthy of even breathing the same air as her, he'd have reached out then. He even thought she might permit it. But he couldn't bring himself to risk that. "If I asked, would every one of those crimes have been done for a just cause?"
Her mouth opened and then closed.
Garlan felt a triumphant thrill at that. "You've said this is not your world many times." He gave a nod as he settled on what he wished to say. "If you do not understand this one, ask. I will endeavor to answer anything you might wish, whenever you might think it."
"Ok." She pulled a letter out of the inside of her surcoat and held it out. "For Leonette, it's just what I've already said. I'd tell her myself but…I think it should be her choice if she ever even sees me again."
He accepted the letter. "You have given us more joy and hope this day than we have had since we first said our vows. If she had not been beyond words in the garden she would have told you herself."
"Well, she can tell me herself, for real, if she wants. Or she can avoid me like the plague. It's her choice." Goddess Quake…Daisy was firm in her words. "And both of you can change your minds, like…that's something you can do."
Garlan dropped to his knees then, looking up at her startled face. "I will not forget this, Daisy."