Chapter 64Notes:Sup! So I've been real busy lately, so sorry for not getting back on all the comments! I still read and am grateful for them all so much! Just been stupid busy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextSansa strode through the entryway and into the room beyond, her guards neatly opening the door for her. Her eyes easily found Mira Forrester.
The woman rose to her feet before dropping to a curtsy. "Your Grace."
Sansa eyed the woman, in her heart she was sorry for what the future would likely hold. Ever it was the women left to suffer the consequences of men. "Rise."
"Is there something I can do for you, your Grace?" Mira's voice was perfectly practiced, her court mask seamlessly sliding down. She'd certainly realized this would not be a pleasant conversation.
"I received a raven from the wall." Sansa watched her face, she doubted she'd see the answers she wanted. The woman had spent too long in the southern court for that. "Lord Whitehill has abandoned his post together with his men. They were last seen marching towards the Ironrath."
Mira's hands tightened. "Will you send aid?"
"I've sent a company of twenty men to secure your younger sibling and good sister. Their remaining journey to Winterfell will be sure. Any men I send to Ironrath have no chance of arriving before the Whitehill force. Your brother has a sizable force with him, larger than Lord Whitehill could hope to have."
Mira paled. "Oh gods, they can only have just begun their journey here."
"We can only hope they have been making haste and the men I'm sending do as well." Sansa softened slightly. She knew the terror of fearing for the lives of one's family.
Mira gave a sharp nod, her face settling. "Their party left six days ago, they could have covered a good distance."
"Indeed." Sansa hated that she had to ask what she needed to. "Odd, that Lord Whitehill would risk so much when your brother has a portion of my army with him. A portion large enough that your brother stands no chance of losing. In fact, my advisors inform me that should a battle occur it will be brief." The implied weight of that considering the blood feud between the Whitehills and the Forresters was not pretty.
And Mira understood what that implied. That her brother was suspected of continuing the blood feud. Mira flinched at her words, horror flashing across her face before being folded neatly behind her court mask. "Your Grace…"
"I see you do not know if your brother intended to draw your House's enemy to a battle." Sansa wished it was not what it looked like. She had almost no doubts that it was. "Did your brother say anything? Did he give any indication that he might have intended to do this?"
"No, of course not, your Grace." Mira bowed her head. "Surely this is a mistake, or Lord Whitehill acting violently once more."
Sansa looked at the other woman, and she felt pity. "I hope you're right." She paused knowing she would be cruel to leave it at that. "If he has, while he'll certainly lose his position on my council and there will be consequences, I however won't add to the grief your family has faced."
Sansa bit back a smile at the sight of poor Hogg trotting towards her. Poor man was bright red in the face, and stiff as a board. He gave the best bow he likely knew how to give. She took pity on him. "Thank you for coming so promptly."
"Anythin' to help you, your Grace." His words were so carefully formed to lessen his rough accent.
She gave a fond smile to the man. If there was one group whose loyalty she didn't doubt, it was the Order. Well, she still kept a weather eye on them. But she doubted she'd see signs of treason there. "Hogg, I need two of you men to complete a certain task for me. It would need to be discrete."
"Oh, aye, we can do that." His shoulders set, determination crossing his face. "What sort uh task is it?"
Sansa would have to give the man a title if he ever left the Order. "There is going to be a fight between the Forresters and Whitehills. I need to know exactly how this stupidity has come to be. All of it, including that which Lord Forrester might not wish me to hear. Do you understand?"
"Aye, I can do that." His face frowned in thought. "Maybe...two of ours and one of yours with a third of ours dressed as one of yours?"
She raised a brow, he was cleverer than she'd realized. "That can certainly be done. Is there anything else you require?"
////
Tyrion felt ill as he looked down at the sea below. He was uncomfortably close to being fed to a dragon. He may be in awe of the beasts, but he didn't want to be digested by one. Two miserable failures on the same day however could drop one's favor quite steeply.
He paused as he spotted Jon Snow, or Stark now, standing along the rock way, looking out over the ocean, the northern god sitting on the stoneworks beside him, the two of them clearly watching the dragons flying far out over the ocean. Jon's face was stupidly handsome while drawn in deep thought. But what struck Tyrion as the sharpest change from boy to man was the way Jon Stark stood settled in his own skin.
Tyrion approached with a confidence he didn't particularly feel. "I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack. You're making it difficult. You look a lot better brooding than I do. You make me feel like I'm failing at brooding over failing. And you're not even brooding alone."
"I came in good faith to treat with a foreign Queen and instead am treated as a mad man." Jon's face was full of accusation.
Tyrion winced under the dark look, he also noted the 'god' was pointedly not paying the slightest attention to them. Her gaze focused upon the dragons overhead. He turned to Jon. "When a Queen summons you, it's assumed that you will swear fealty."
"That's not what you said in your letter." Jon's eyes narrowed. "You implied it was safe to Sansa."
He sighed. "And I see that she is not here."
"No, she didn't trust you. Or your Queen." Jon turned so that he was facing him completely.
Tyrion considered the man. "What I don't understand is why you're here. You can't think my Queen will abandon her conquest of the seven kingdoms, march her army and dragons all the way to the North to fight dead men?"
"If she doesn't we may all die." Jon's jaw tightened. "We'll fight them, but if we fall it will be your Queen who faces them next. Their ranks would only be swollen by our corpses." There was utter sincerity in his entire being. Jon breathed out. "It's hard for me to fathom. It really is. If someone told me about the White Walkers and the Night King…you don't believe me."
Tyrion had seen dragons, and he'd seen whatever that magic in the throne room had been. But the dead? "I do actually."
"You didn't before. Grumpkins and snarks you called them. Do you remember? You said it was all nonsense." Jon's face was blatantly filled with disbelief.
Tyrion sighed. "It was all nonsense. Everybody knew it. But then Mormont saw them and you saw them, and I trust the eyes of an honest man more than I trust what everybody knows."
"You're a good liar." The god's head turned. "I could barely tell."
Tyrion blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"You're lying. You don't believe the Dead are coming." Her head cocked to the side. "Or no, it's not that you don't believe, it's that you're not sure. It scares you, but humoring Jon is the easiest option."
Jon clearly believed the 'god' completely. "I wasn't wrong then."
"Don't take it personally." The 'god' patted Jon's shoulder. "He's humoring you. That's half the battle."
Jon looked at him then. "How do I convince people who don't know me that an enemy they don't believe in is coming to kill them all if even you don't?"
"Good question." Tyrion forced his unease at his lies being called out so easily, that had just made political discussion utterly useless. Or..perhaps not? The 'god' hadn't appeared upset, rather just preventing Jon from listening too well.
Jon's voice had a bite to it. "I know it's a good question. I'm looking for an answer."
"People's minds aren't made for problems that large." Tyrion carefully set aside his doubts. Because he hadn't lied, trusted men were better to listen to than common knowledge. And even if Jon was lying the man believed in his own words. "White Walkers, the Night King, Army of the Dead, it's almost a relief to confront a familiar monster like my sister."
"Dragonglass then." Jon's eyes flicked to the god and then back to Tyrion. "Fill my ship with dragonglass, and allow the rest of our party off and I'll forget any insult from yesterday."
Tyrion paused at that. "Do I want to know why you want such a thing?"
Tyrion felt a bead of sweat trickling down the back of his neck. If fate was a thing it deserved a kick in the ass for so many ill events to strike at once. Thus leaving him here, standing before a Queen who was not pleased with him.
"Dragonglass?" Daenerys stared at him, she was unamused.
"Yes, volcanic glass, obsidian. He says you have a tremendous amount of it here." Tyrion was really quite hopeful this would work. Smoothing things over with the Northerners was a good first step.
Daenerys' pointed out the windows. "Why are we talking about glass? We just lost two of our allies."
"Which is why I was speaking to Jon Stark, a potential ally," Tyrion explained, gods he needed a drink.
Daenerys was listening to him, however unhappily. "And what does the North want with dragonglass?"
"Apparently it can be turned into weapons that kill White Walkers and their foot soldiers, or stop them, destroy them? I'm unsure of the nomenclature." And he was trying to ignore what the actions of the North were indicating.
Daenerys walked towards him, her disbelief painted across her words. "And what do you think of this Army of the Dead, White Walkers and Night King's?"
"I'd very much like to believe that Jon Stark is wrong. But a wise man once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it." And damn it to the seven hells he was starting to believe the Dead were real.
She clasped her hands in front of her, looking down on him. "Which wise man said this?"
He paused… "I don't remember."
"Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?" There was a frustrated condescension there.
"I would never do that…to you." Tyrion defended himself. "The reason I believe Jon Stark is because he's here. All of his advisors would have told him not to come. His sister and Queen told him not to come. I would have told him not to come, yet he's here anyway. You don't have to believe him. Let him mine the dragonglass. If he's wrong it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here. It's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand: Casterly Rock." Tyrion paused. "Besides, it will go a long way to smooth over any unpleasantness from yesterday."
"And their god?" Daenerys turned away from the fire she'd moved to.
Tyrion considered that. "Every man from the North believes she is what she claims to be. And she holds a great deal of sway with Jon. However, it's rather difficult to learn more when so few men are here. If you allow the rest of their party to disembark, it might lead to looser lips."
////
Jon was ignoring the presence of Seth, the royal guard shadowing him everywhere. He was also unsure where Daisy had gotten to and was pretending that didn't fill him with dread. But he had come here for a reason, and he intended to see to that reason. Even if no one thought he could do it.
As he walked out from the protection of the grim fortress he was faced with the expanse of sea, the sharp sea wind cutting in its cold. Everything here was sharp, sheer, and dark. The fortress stood upon sharp, sheer cliffs that plummeted down to the rocky ocean coast below. He walked down the narrow stone walkway, towards the distinctive white hair of the Dragon Queen. He paused. "Stay here."
"Your Highness! I'm supposed to protect you!" Seth protested.
He stared at the man. He sighed, awkwardly reaching up and setting his hand on the man's shoulder. "The Queen is not going to cast me over the side of the cliff. And if a dragon tries to eat me there is nothing you or I can do to stop it."
"I…" Seth settled back. "As you command, your Highness."
Jon shook his head faintly as he turned and left his guard behind. He wished he knew how to begin a conversation with a woman who'd looked rather like she'd wanted to feed him to her dragons. As he finally reached her he hadn't gotten a better idea, and two of her dragons were flying out over the ocean. "Amazing thing to see."
She didn't turn to look at him, but her head did move faintly. "I named them after my brothers, Vicerion and Rhaegal. They're both gone now." She turned to look at him then, one hand remaining on the low stone wall. "You lost two brothers as well?"
Jon's throat closed at the mention of Robb and Bran. It was a fool's hope that Bran yet lived, but one he wasn't quite prepared to lose yet. Not yet. He didn't disagree, however. The grief still sat with him.
"People thought dragons were gone forever but here they are. Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know." She looked at him properly then.
He lowered his head, and stepped even with her, though he faced the sea, looking out at its beauty. "You've been talking to Tyrion?"
"He is my Hand." There was a dry bite there that amused Jon.
He couldn't help the slight smile. "He enjoys talking."
"We all enjoy what we're good at."
Jon's smile faded. He knew what he was good at. "I don't."
Daenerys was looking at him again. It was the same sharp look that Sansa got when she was trying to figure out some puzzle. "You know I'm not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron Throne."
"I never expected that you would." He shifted so that they were facing each other, raising his chin to meet her challenge.
Daenerys' tone was clear and sharp, but not hostile. "And I haven't changed my mind about which kingdoms belong to the throne."
"I haven't either." Jon had been trusted to come here, he wasn't failing in his task. Nor bending to a strange Queen he didn't know. No matter how lovely or how impressive her titles were.
She looked away, frustration there to be seen if you knew how to look. Finally, she returned her gaze to him. "I will allow you to mine the dragonglass and forge weapons from it. You had better get your men off their ship and put them to work."
"Thank you." He meant it from the bottom of his heart.
Daenerys returned her attention to the ocean, her children flying over it.
He dared another question. "So you believe me then about the Night King and the Army of the Dead?"
"You better get to work, Jon Stark." There was a challenge in her voice. And it was a dismissal, but it was not a cold one.
He nodded and turned to make his way back into the castle. She wasn't wrong, he had work to do. And some very upset lords to settle.
////
Daisy knocked on the wooden door to Jon's room before simply walking in. She paused in the entryway watching the excitement thrumming through Jon as he organized notes, mud smeared across one cheek. He looked hopeful, a spark back in his eye. "So we get some dragonglass then?"
"One shipful for now but we can negotiate for more! She's giving us a chance!" He turned and he was a man with purpose and hope. It was a good look on him. Which, damn all the Starks were apparently hot, fucking genetics.
She smiled. "Good, in which case I'm going to fly up North for the afternoon and night. Let Sansa know you're alive and were right. Which, if you value your life, mentioning that to her face is a bad idea."
His smile was practically boyish, his eyes crinkling in delight. "Aye, that's probably right. She was always vicious as a girl. Her and Arya's fights were terrifying."
"A trait that hasn't gone away." She grinned, it might be sappy but sue her. "Side point, I believe Lord Tyrion thinks we're fucking. So there's that. Also, this Queen either has a traitor in her ranks, her advisors are so poor it might as well be treason, or there's some other objective here. With the language barrier…" She hummed thoughtfully. "Give me a couple of months, maybe a bit more and you can exchange that name for something with her if it is actual treason."
Jon's brow furrowed. "Who'd betray her? She seems the sort of Queen you hear about in legends. Her people chose her. I might not know much, but I know they half worship her."
She raised an eyebrow at that. Huh. "True, but that isn't enough for everyone. Or are you planning on switching Queens?"
He glared, it was weak though. Man was in too good a mood to be properly irritated. "I take your point."
"Also, some people are just traitorous dicks. It's life." She shrugged. "Don't mention I'm smoking out a rat if there is one, however. Unwarned is careless."
Jon gave her a firm nod. "Of course." His frown faded. "It's good to see Tyrion again."
"I'll take your word for it." She hadn't seen much of the other Hand and was…mostly unimpressed. But then she'd always been biased against alcoholics. Thinking of which, Fitz had another month of wallowing before she was going to dry him out, willing or not. No one needed his moonshine crutch turning into a long-term problem.
Jon chuckled. "He takes some getting used to."
"I'll make time to actually speak to him. If both you and Sansa agree he's worth it, he must be." She rocked back on her heels. "So, no getting yourself killed between now and dawn. Make my excuses."
Jon paused. "Er…what should I say you're doing if they ask?"
"Talking to the old gods." She shrugged. I'll swing by a gods' wood before I get back, you won't even be lying."
He sighed. "I'm not that terrible of a liar."
"You kinda are." She laughed at the near pout on his face. "Do you have a letter for your sister ready?"
He grabbed a folded note and stepped into her space and hugged her tightly. His arms wrapped around her half trapping her own at her sides. "Thank you, for giving this a chance."
Daisy closed her eyes, hugging him back as best she could. "I've got your back."
His arms tightened.
Daisy landed with a barely audible thud on the roof of the god's tower. She closed her eyes, letting herself focus on the familiar vibrations of Winterfell. It felt…it felt wonderfully familiar.
Notes:So guys, what is up with the whole fish people in ASOIAF? Cause they're all over the place in the lore and are super creepy. Also they eat people? But also reproduce with them, maybe can bring people back from the dead? Its weird and cool. Also the oily black rock that is super cursed. I need to know more about the fish people dang it. Forget the Old Gods, I want more content on the fish people, they're fascinating.
(Edit) I know they're inspired/homage to Lovecraft's Shadow over Innsmouth, even read the book. I've actively mentioned Lovecraftian influences in his writing before. I'm just interested in how Martin has implemented and changed the lore. Cause he's spread them out across the world. I just think his lore is cool, and wish at least some of it he'd flesh out more. Not even in a 'here's how that works' way but in a 'heres some more fish people stuff' way.
Chapter 65Notes:I cannot describe how excited I am for House of the Dragon. Like I've tried so hard not to get my hopes up, but have failed utterly. Sort of like how I once dreamt that this fic would be under two hundred chapters. Also this chapter is about two pages longer than average, so have fun!
Chapter TextDaisy wanted to laugh as she saw what was happening in the Winterfell courtyard. It would seem Tormund was trying to show Rickon and Lyanna how to use a club. Based on the light in Lyanna Mormont's eye, this had been a mistake on the man's part. Daisy dropped onto the walkway below, loping towards the covered wooden walkway that looked over the courtyard. Sure enough, there was Sansa, two of her royal guard politely near her.
It'd been a month. Daisy's feet sped up as she ignored the startled bows and sounds as people recognized her. As she strode the last few yards towards Sansa's side, Sansa turned. Her normally so controlled face lit as she spotted her. Sansa clearly meant to greet her.
Daisy swooped in, catching her face between her hands and words with her lips, kissing her soundly in greeting. It was more than nice.
Pulling back she knew her smile had turned soft and frankly she didn't care. "Hey."
Sansa huffed as her eyes flicked open, she didn't appear displeased, however. "Welcome back to Winterfell."
"Good to be back." She pulled out Jon's letter. "Jon's healthy, currently gleefully mining for dragonglass, and trying to convince the Dragon Queen to lend him dragons."
Sansa's eyebrows rose as she listened. "Dragonglass so quickly?"
"Let's just say the initial meeting went absolutely terribly, but Jon got dragonglass by pouting at your former husband about it." Daisy rocked back on her heels. "Also, when you said Tyrion was a drunk you meant it."
Sansa's face had that particular twitch that meant she wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose and was resisting through sheer force of will. "And the Dragon Queen?"
"I'm not sure yet, impressive though." Daisy considered her words. "No signs of her being insane so far, but she has no idea about Westerosi politics. Though I doubt that'll last long."
Sansa's blue eyes were sharp as she no doubt picked up the implication of why the first meeting had gone horribly. "I see, anything pressing?"
"Nothing that can't wait." Daisy resisted kissing the woman again, once might be accepted if scandalous. Twice was pushing it. Instead, she shifted so that she was leaning on the wooden railing looking down. "Anything exciting while I've been stuck on a boat?"
Sansa reached out, touching her arm. "Bran is back."
Daisy's head snapped back around to Sansa at the crack in her voice. She knew who Bran was, and there shouldn't be pain in Sansa's voice at the return of a living brother. "What's wrong?"
Daisy's eyes found Bran easily as she stepped into his rooms where he was seated by the fire. The medieval wheelchair would have interested her normally. Instead, what was intriguing to her was the music of his bones. They had the same near hymn-like vibrations of the weirwoods. She ignored the servant and the guard.
She walked slowly towards him. "Hello, it's Bran isn't it?"
His face was empty as he turned to her, but his eyes were the cold examining gaze Daisy had seen on a hundred scientists. His voice was as empty as his face. "I've been expecting you, Daisy Jonson."
"Have you?" She kept her voice light as she reached him.
Bran Stark's face was angular, near sharp in a way his siblings bore with better grace. It gave him a gaunt look. "Yes, I understand now why you were chosen."
"Oh, why was I chosen?" Daisy didn't look to see Sansa's reaction to her brother, if this was her brother.
"Made for destruction, born into war, baptized in blood, trained to kill, thrown into battle and death. Inhuman." He paused.
She raised a brow. "Huh, and you've seen all that and you're not afraid of me?"
"You would never hurt me." There was something like a hint of emotion there. "You were born for war, from a line of slaves designed for war and those that were broken under that legacy, but you spat on your fate. You are meant for death but instead, protect life."
Daisy paused properly at that. "And how did you see that?"
"You gave your blood to the face tree. Our blood contains our memories." He replied as if that made sense. Which horribly it did.
She dropped her arms to her hips. "And here your sister said you weren't talking much?"
"There was no point. They wouldn't understand." He was looking up at her with that same expression.
Daisy sighed. "Alright, why do your bones sing the same song as the roots of the face trees?"
"I am the Three Eyed Raven." He looked away from her then, his eyes going back to the fire. "I need to get better at looking."
Which…great. But if she'd understood Robin she could understand him. She stepped to the other side of the fire and leaned against the stone. "So, is being the Three Eyed Raven more of a what or a who?"
"A what and a who I believe." He replied.
She nodded. "Ok, and is Bran Stark a part of that who?"
Bran's head turned back towards her. "Yes, that sounds right." His eyes seemed to look through her. "I looked too far and too deep." He met her eyes then. "You're asking the wrong questions."
"Am I? What do you think are the right questions?" Daisy was fascinated. It was like a mental parasite maybe? All the weirwoods were connected, she knew that. If he was part of that connection as well….was it malignant or symbiotic? And if malignant was it reversible?
He had the faintest ghost of a smile then. "I don't know."
////
Sansa closed the door behind her as she followed Daisy into her solar. It was her public solar, not that anyone was allowed in without permission, but it was as close to alone as they would be for hours yet. Daisy had returned to her, Jon was alive, and Bran was still inside somewhere. She barely waited for the door to click shut before she was kissing her lover.
The physical warmth and solid presence of her was there and so real. Sansa didn't care that she was being ridiculous, that this was desperately improper, and that her guards certainly knew exactly what she was doing. She had a dozen tasks to be done before supper, but they seemed so inconsequential. Her hand buried in Daisy's hair was half clenched as she lost herself in sensation. It was addicting how this close she could feel the vibrations contained by the god in human form in her arms.
Sansa was forced to pull back to suck in air. She felt a jolt of pride at Daisy's blown out pupils. Her eyes were so dark they were nearly black.
"Hello to you too." Daisy nipped lightly at her before pulling ever so slightly further back. "Not that I mind, cause very hot, but here?"
Sansa closed her eyes. "No….." She breathed out and reluctantly stepped back. "Lord Manderly will be here soon."
Daisy caught her hands pulling her back in. "No sex, and five minute warning before he gets here, got it."
And well…Sansa didn't feel like protesting after that.
Sansa was distinctly not looking at Daisy to avoid her face flushing, as she listened to her Master of Ships. "So we have three ships that can reasonably be sent south for dragonglass immediately?"
"Aye, we can make it five total within three months if we intend to continue to ship in grains." Manderly replied, his hands clasped over his belly.
She nodded…their army was not large. The amount of dragonglass they could even shape would be limited. "Very well, see to it that the orders are given. We won't cut into our trade vessel numbers yet, but be prepared should it become necessary." Sansa looked at the tallies of food she'd ordered from across the North. "And send word that everyone is to continue rationing their food stores. This promises to be a long winter. Full stores now should not be treated as an excuse to loosen our belts."
"Aye, I'll see to it, your Grace. On the matter of the Targaryen, how far will you bend for her aid?" Manderly replied, there was a cautiousness to his tone.
Sansa flicked her attention to Lord Royce and Baelish. "The Vale has not bent the knee to me." She could tell Baelish understood her game. "Should your man on Dragonstone agree that this Targaryen is not mad, and of a reasonable temper, I would forsake any claim to the Vale."
"Your Grace!" Lord Royce's face turned red. "We've sent you our armies! Our Lord is your cousin!"
"And the Vale cannot stand against dragons the same as the North." She held his gaze. "Not with your army depleted from the war before us. The Vale bent to the dragons for a single flight of a boy King the last time a Targaryen landed on our shores. I would not suffer my cousin to be placed in so perilous a position as well."
Baelish cut in. "Surely you can't mean to hide in the Northern snow and leave the rest of us to suffer Targaryen rule?"
"If I am required to take the Iron Throne and fight this Dragon Queen to protect my people I will. But we cannot fight the Dead and the Dragon Queen. Not in the Vale, and not in the Riverlands." Sansa knew her voice was cold.
Daisy cleared her throat. "I've seen the Targaryen Queen once, Jon twice. No one is saying the matter is decided." She caught Baelish's eyes and held them. "However, I'd be happy to fly you with me to Dragonstone and assist you in coming to your own opinion." It was a very polite, if blatant threat.
Baelish dipped his head. "I'm sure the reports you bring us will be more than sufficient your Holiness."
"No decisions have been made. Though I would advise you to consider what you are willing to accept for peace. I will honor our alliance, whether you are to be my subjects or not." Sansa knew it was going to be a long meeting. But if Jon was going to do the impossible, she was going to drag her Lords to the negotiating table kicking and screaming if she had to.
Sansa pulled a clean shift over her head. She didn't bother with a wrap, or ought else. Her room was warm enough and it didn't matter if Daisy saw her in nothing but a shift. She paused on her way to the fire at the sound of snuffling at the door. She sighed and grabbed the wrap she'd just ignored, pulled it around herself, and came to the door and opened it. She smiled, reaching out and scratching behind Ghost's ears.
Ghost leaned into her touch before brushing past her into her bedchamber.
She shook her head fondly, before looking up and meeting her guard's eyes. "All quiet?"
"Aye, your Grace." Conin bowed his head.
Sansa gave a faint tip of her head in acknowledgment before closing her chamber's door and moving back towards the fire. She dropped her wrap over the back of a chair. "Ghost." She whispered nearly laughing as she realized the pony-sized wolf had climbed onto the bed.
Biting back her laughter she picked up Jon's letter and sat by the fire. She was quietly surprised Ghost hadn't woken up Daisy, but it was hard to gauge what would wake her, and what wouldn't. Shaking her head she settled in to read the letter properly as Jon's sister, not his Queen. She hadn't had time to really read the excited strokes of the quill, the hopeful blots of ink, and the sheer warmth of it all earlier.
She was wonderfully glad to see life returning to her brother. He'd been so horribly empty when he'd first come to her in Winterfell. Not that she'd been much better. Time was serving them both well. She could only hope it was enough to keep them from being hollowed out once more come the Dead.
Sansa was rereading the letter for perhaps the third time when there was a wheeze from the bed.
"Fuck! You're too big for that!" Daisy popped up, wheezing slightly as she shoved Ghost off of her.
Ghost licked a large stripe up the side of her cheek.
Daisy's face was deeply unamused, voice dry. "Thanks." She climbed out of bed, not bothering with grabbing any article of clothing. "Why does the horse-sized wolf get to sleep on the bed? Like he could suffocate you with all that fur."
Sansa did something she hadn't in years, she giggled at the sight of Daisy wiping drool off of her cheek while glaring at a smug Ghost laying on the bed. There was a helpless bubble of joy in her chest as the giggles turned to laughter.
Daisy rolled her eyes, as she finally grabbed the discarded wrap over the back of the other chair, and pulled it over her shoulders. It didn't do much to hide her nakedness. "Laugh it up, I almost suffocate and this is your reaction?" The way her eyes were smiling and soft as she reclined into the chair across from her was breathtaking.
Which, Sansa's mouth turned dry at the image before clearing her throat. "You're returning to Dragonstone then?"
"In a few hours. I should be there before the sun rises." Daisy hummed. "I'll be back as often as I can. But until things are more settled I shouldn't leave Jon alone long."
Sansa sighed, but she'd already known that was the truth of the matter. "I wrote a reply for him."
"I got it." Daisy ran her fingers through her own hair. "I'll try and speak with Daenerys before I come back, but I don't think she's mad."
She considered what Daisy had said in the small council meeting. "That could be far more dangerous." Sansa looked away from Daisy considering the hopeful idealism of her brother and practically optimistic view of her lover. "I should have asked you to kill Cersei months ago."
"Her being insane will keep Daenerys focused on the south, and if she's reasonable, open to negotiation." Daisy replied. "They call her the Breaker of Chains, and she's not burninating the countryside. She might not be a bad ally."
Sansa hated what the cost would be. "For an alliance, one that I and those sworn to me could accept…."
"The cost would be Jon." Daisy finished.
Sansa was honestly surprised as her head whipped back to Daisy. "How?"
"Just because it rubs me the wrong way doesn't mean I don't get it." Daisy seemed glib, but there was a faint flicker of hurt under it.
Sansa bit back a wince. "I didn't mean it like that, I know you're more aware of the game than most of my Lords, I just…I wouldn't have expected you to consider it a real possibility." Sansa explained, she knew Daisy and Jon were friends. That Daisy valued him.
Daisy softened. "If they like each other it's a valid option. If they don't we can figure something else out."
"Any ideas on that other option? Sansa asked. And gods she meant it.
Daisy nodded. "If there's no other choice, I kill the dragons." Her face twitched in disgust. "I really don't want to do that though. So if you think of something else that'd be awesome."
"Well, for now at least we have some time." Sansa would need to see to what truth there was to the old stories that a weirwood arrow would fell a dragon. If it was the case…Daisy was right, dead dragons made the situation tenable. And if arrows would work, she need not ask it of Daisy. Not that they were there yet. And it would certainly result in a full scale land war.
Daisy's face was distinctly amused. "You already had a plan for killing the dragons?"
"Did you expect anything else?" Sansa admitted.
Daisy shook her head. "Not really, making an entire species of very cool fire breathing lizards extinct would be tragic though."
Sansa actually paused at that, Daisy meant it. She wondered though she would not ask if the dragons were perhaps closer to what Daisy was than anything else. Bran's words about who Daisy was still wrung in her ears. In some ways, it'd been a confirmation of what she'd already known. Daisy was a protector. She cared for people. It likely was in part why Daisy was shying away from using violence to solve the southern problem. She didn't like killing. Didn't want worship, power, or any of the rest of it. Certainly not the terror she could invoke if she wanted. Was actively wary of the chaos she could invoke with a wave of her hand.
"Do I want to know where you just went?" Daisy asked, a playful edge to her voice.
Sansa shook her head. "It's not important." She stood, dropping Jon's letter to the seat she'd been in. "There's only a few hours left before dawn."
////
Jon had fallen into an exhausted slumber as soon as his head hit the pillow on his bed. He'd eagerly spent the day marshaling his men to begin mining the precious dragonglass in the morn. There was hope, finally, they would stand a fighting chance!
If he'd been conscious he'd have felt little surprise at his slipping into a wolf dream in the early hours as his body began to gently rise from the deep slumber he'd previously been in. Awake he was aware to some degree he had a bit of the warg magics. That he and Ghost were connected in a similar manner as Rickon and Shaggydog were. How likely all his siblings were with their wolves.
But he wasn't awake. Instead one moment he was in the dark warmth of slumber, and the next he slid into the familiar mind of Ghost.
He was warm, comfortable by a warm hearth. There was a prickle of pouting at being on the floor. Ghost cracked one red eye open, the strange shade of flames in front of him. For beasts saw not the world in the same array of color as man. Jon was nothing but a lazy blanket of a presence, perceiving what his wolf did.
Ghost huffed as he shifted, the sounds from the bed kept rousing him. Jon stirred in the back of Ghost's mind. He knew this room. It was Sansa's room.
As Ghost dragged a deep breath in, Jon and Ghost's nose wrinkled in disgust realizing what it was he was smelling. Their head swung around in alarm towards the bed.
Jon's eyes snapped awake as he slammed back into his own mind.
Jon's blood felt like it was boiling with pure rage. If he had fangs he'd be gnashing them. His hand fisted so tight, his leather gloves creaked from it as he stared at the empty, and unslept in bed where he'd known Daisy wasn't.
He slammed the door shut, and swept towards the attached solar of his own chambers where he knew his Lords would be served their morning meal. After all, he'd requested such so that they could begin their work as early as possible. And it was where Daisy would have gone if she wasn't in her room. After all, she'd planned to be back by first light.
Bile and rage burned at the back of his throat at what her not being back would mean. What it meant for his sister. He barely noticed the alarmed guard on his heels. Striding into the solar he saw red.
His gaze ignored his Lords, all there on his orders, the food, all of it. Instead, all he saw was Daisy, head thrown back as she laughed at something Davos had said. Her laughter faded, and her attention turned to him. Her stupid, lying, duplicitous face towards him as she raised a hand in greeting.
Jon snarled. He was across the room, grabbing the front of her jerkin, dragging her from her seat and slamming her against the stone wall inside a single breath. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now!"
"What the hell!?" She hissed, though she didn't fight his hold, her eyes narrowing. "Dude, what happened?"
Jon's shoulders settled, his jaw tightening as he realized his own men were only resisting dragging him off her due to her halting their movements with a faint wall of something tangible though not visible. The door to the solar slammed shut without a hand on it. He tightened his grip on the fabric, barely resisting the desire to wrap his hands around her neck. "I trusted you!"
"What are you talking about?" The confusion was galling in its genuineness. Was that a lie as well?
His fingers where they gripped her hummed with power leaking out.
Jon's lips pulled back, pressing her harder against the stone. "How dare you bed my sister!" After everything, every assurance that it was a lie, that it was to protect Sansa, that Sansa was safe. That her body was not a trading piece for power. When he was right there and willing to protect her.
Daisy's brow shot upwards. "Uh…old news? Did you hit your head?"
"It was a lie! You both said it was a lie! To protect her!" He snarled, his blood demanded he rip her throat out.
The confusion on Daisy's face burned him. "Jon, you need to calm down." She started to push herself off the wall.
He dug his heels in and a sound near to a growl left his throat as he slammed her right back into the wall. Inarticulate rage planted him there.
Her hands raised up as if in surrender. "Ok, not going anywhere." She blinked. "You're a warg, Ghost was in the room last night." Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Shit."
"She is not a piece of meat! You swore that was not the price of your help!" He should have killed her at the start. "We trusted you!"
Daisy moved then. One arm slammed across his arms holding her in place breaking his grip as she spun, pinning him against the wall. She had one of his arms twisted up behind him and pressed to the middle of his back, her forearm a bar against the back of his neck keeping his cheek pressed against stone, one foot hooked on his keeping him from struggling. Her strength was inhuman and unshakable. "Ok, you need to calm down, right now." Her voice had an edge of hardness.
Jon glared out of his one eye that could see her.
She tightened her hold slightly. "Look, you're pulling from Ghost and you need to stop. Your sister is safe. And we can talk about this as soon as it's just you in your head." The last part was unmistakably an order.
Fighting was out, he couldn't have broken her grip with any manner of thrashing. He grit his teeth and crammed his eyes shut. Jon could feel it, the strange otherness of his wolf dreams. His rage didn't leave him, but it did turn to a low simmer in his gut. The strangeness slid from his head till it was just him. Jon gave a sharp nod.
Daisy released him, stepping back instantly. "I did not coerce your sister into sex."
Jon rolled his shoulders as he turned to face her properly. "Then what were you doing in her bed an hour ago? Because I know what I saw."
"Which, super creepy and you're learning how to control the warg thing." Daisy crossed her arms, a tightness to her in the face of his challenge. "I didn't deny sleeping with her. Which you would know was consensual if you had been in your wolf's head longer than a minute or two." She rolled her eyes. "I guess props to you for not being gross and watching."
He blanched, of things he ever wanted to see, his sister like that was not one of them whatsoever.
"Right, sorry." Daisy blew out a breath, clearly having noticed his clear repulsion at having seen anything at all. "How did you not know till now?"
His jaw ticked slightly. "It was fake, you told me the courting was fake."
Understanding dawned across her face. "Ok, yes." She winced. "Look, Sansa is my friend. It was nothing to protect her from being forced into a political marriage. But I'm not so inhuman I wouldn't be attracted to her. I never would have acted on it. For fucks sake it wouldn't have been fair. I know that."
Jon swallowed, letting her words trickle through his fury. "Then what were you doing in her bed?"
"I said I never initiated, I didn't say she didn't." Daisy brushed some of her hair behind one ear. Her cheeks were definitely flushed, though her voice was still tight. "Your sister was very clear about what she wanted."
Jon forced his hands to unclench. He…he wanted to believe her. But he'd sworn to protect his sister, to make sure that she was safe. Was he wrong? "Can you prove that?"
"Jesus dude, how do you want me to do that? I could dump you back at Winterfell for the afternoon if you want to talk to her?" Daisy sharply waved a hand, disbelief showing as she snapped.
He considered it. "We both know Sansa would lie if she thought it was necessary." It felt like poison to admit it.
Daisy winced. "Fair. I…" Her face took on an actual pink tinge then. "For the very awkward however long you were in Ghost, not that it's really proof of any kind, you wouldn't have noticed exactly who was fucking who into the mattress?"
Jon made a vague choking sound. And then he felt like his face was on fire. For all the horror he had felt at the whole thing which had slammed him out of Ghost the second he realized what he was seeing, he had seen enough to notice that. He wished he could scrape the image out of his head with a knife and saltwater. But… he stumbled to a chair and dropped down. "Oh." His voice cracked.
"Right…not that it means anything, stupid sexual politics." She mumbled, eyes narrowing as she kept her eyes on him.
He stared at the floor. "I'm an idiot."
"You love your sister." Daisy remained standing there, a certain rigidness to her, arms crossed.
Seth's high-pitched throat cleared. "Uh…what?"
Jon's head snapped up and he felt his eyes widening in panic as he met the gazes of a half dozen Northern Lords staring at him in abject horror and confusion. "Ah…."
"For fucks sake." Daisy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well that cat isn't going back into the bag."
Marlon Manderly's voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. "You weren't courting our Queen?"
Daisy's shoulders slumped. She ignored Jon entirely. "I was, but not on purpose at first, the courting customs in my realm are very different and I hadn't actually meant to. But Sansa asked to clarify my intent, and she's my friend. So once we realized what'd happened she asked me not to stop. Everything was so up in the air and after Ramsey, she wanted to avoid selling herself for political gain if she could help it."
"But your courtship was so grand?" Poor Seth pointed out. He looked positively crushed.
Daisy rocked back on her heels, her voice softening. And oh it was so clear how growingly angry her tone had been before. "I was protecting my friend, and it was fun. And then well…Sansa is kinda spectacular."
Jon made a wounded sound. Good gods, he knew Sansa trusted Daisy. That they spent a great deal of time together. Had seen them interact. More than that he knew Daisy. Knew she considered anything even touching on a lack of desire for sex from one party as repugnant. That she cared for people.
"So it was real?" Seth said slowly.
Daisy nodded. "Yes." She turned and glared at Jon. "And you, have you never heard of privacy! Christ, I should string you up for this. Sansa is going to kill you."
He wilted. "I thought…"
"That I'd as good as raped your sister." She hissed. "This is your mess. Clean it up."
Jon winced, he started to reach out only to recoil at the look on her face. "I didn't…"
"You meant every word." The hurt was blatant, he might as well have slapped her. Oh god, he'd physically attacked her. "The fact you thought you were protecting her is the only reason you're still breathing. Fuck you Jon." And then she walked to the door, anyone between her and it melting out of the way. It opened and slammed shut behind her without being touched.
Lord Greengood let out a long breath. "Good gods man…how are you alive?"
"Forget that, after you finish swearing us to secrecy you're going to have to beg forgiveness. And if she doesn't kill you, your sister will." Ser Moore cut in.
Davos set a letter in his hand. "Before that, she brought news. Your brother Bran lives, he's back in Winterfell."
Chapter 66Notes:So House of the Dragon was good!
Chapter TextDaisy was sitting on the top of one of the towering spires of Dragonstone. Her back was against one of the stone dragon gargoyle-like things that were everywhere. The wind was cold, cutting through the thick wool of the clothing she was wearing. She wasn't sure why she was upset exactly, she'd be over it and go back to worrying about the politics in a minute. Being a united front was too important for something as dumb as hurt feelings.
She noted the familiar vibrations approaching her. A part of her considered dropping off the tower to avoid the conversation. It'd be a bit of a plummet towards the rocky ocean far below, but she'd been meaning to figure out if she could walk on water. But, fuck. Best get it all over with. She looked over her shoulder. "Need me for something?"
"What? No. I wanted to apologize." Jon replied with all solemn sincerity, his regret basically painted across his face.
Daisy let out a long breath. "I get it, she's your sister. Kinda surprised you didn't try to stab me actually."
"It wasn't right." Jon's face drew together into a frown. A dogged determination to apologize for something that honestly was nothing. "I accused you of a crime." His face darkened with self loathing. "I laid my hands on you."
She sat up slightly. "Dude, you were half warged into a prehistoric wolf, and you didn't hurt me."
"I thought I was better than that." His gaze turned down, and fuck he was actually fully 'throw yourself on the ground and grovel,' type of guilty. There was an actual shake of shame in his voice.
Daisy swung around so she was facing him. "Are you…like…are you ok?"
His eyes rose, his shoulders squaring. "I have unforgivably insulted you. There is no excuse. I am at your mercy."
She opened and then shut her mouth. What on earth? "Jon, look, I get it. You're a good brother, I was half expecting you to do the whole shovel speech at some point."
"Shovel speech?" Jon asked, his face still furrowed with a heart wrenching amount of guilt. He half looked like he'd lay his damn head on a block if she asked it of him which was…what?
Daisy kinda wanted to like…slap him back to his senses a bit? Like…untrained powers making you lose it was just a thing. Especially when half your triggers were hit. That shit happened to people. You just got over it. "Ya know, hurt or betray my sister and I'll bury you and no one will find the body. Pretty standard threats there. Not that I've had someone do the whole speech before but like, pretty normal. Though you lot seem more about the whole going to war over that kind of thing."
"Ah…." He breathed out. "Doesn't make it right."
She didn't know how to handle this? "Look, after Ramsey it makes sense. And you're not wrong, I'm powerful enough that it gets…tricky. I get it. And I don't think you're supposed to react positively to accidentally walking in on your sibling having sex. Or I guess warging in as the case may be."
"Doesn't excuse it." He stubbornly insisted.
Daisy sighed, shit, how were you supposed to handle an apology like this? "You were protecting your sister. There's nothing to forgive, you're good."
"Why do you do that?" Jon frowned, looking at her with so much confusion. The damn man wore his feelings on his sleeve.
She paused. "Do what?"
"Act like you don't matter! You do it with the men, fine. Half the Umbers would be dead if you exacted your rights due to every insult. But I might not know a lot, but even I know the way you let Fitz speak to you is not right. I accused you of raping my sister. After everything." He waved his arm. "You should be angry or hurt. If you demanded my head it would be your right."
Daisy drew back. "It doesn't matter."
"It does. You are not a monster." His eyes were bright with belief in his words.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "What do you think happens if I take it personally? It doesn't matter. People say dumb shit when they're upset. They say things they don't mean. And what's the point of hanging onto hurt like that? You'll just drown in it. And if I get angry what good does that do? Do you want me to hurt you because you love your sister? If you were right, if I'd done what you thought I had, you'd have had every right to stab me for it. I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did as it is."
"That's…" Jon's jaw set. He looked at the ground taking a moment to mull over his thoughts before speaking. "I grew up shouldering insults for being a bastard. I only wanted to make my father proud, to sit with my family at the same table, and be allowed to be part of the family the same as everyone else. I was so angry that I couldn't have that. And you're right, my anger didn't do anything. I was so busy brooding that I missed time with my siblings. Time I can't have back."
Daisy softened, she knew almost exactly what that helpless frustration and anger as a kid felt like. "You didn't deserve that."
"No, I didn't." Jon met her eyes, his gaze unwavering. "It made me angry. Took good men years to teach me I had nothing to prove to anyone. That my honor, and pride wasn't the most important thing for me to want. I was so focused on my hurt I lost things. But you do the opposite, don't you?"
She shoved her hands under her arms. "Being angry is exhausting, and it does nothing. I've lost myself in anger, screamed myself hoarse with it. And people died. It just leaves you hollow. And I get angry plenty, I just don't see the point when it's something stupid."
"Anger is necessary sometimes, even if it's only in defense of yourself." Jon swallowed. "I don't deserve for you to just forgive this."
Daisy huffed. "I'm an Inhuman, being assumed to be a monster is just part of the deal."
"You haven't done a damn thing to be called a monster. I knew better than to think you capable of that." His gaze dropped in shame.
She felt deeply uncomfortable, like wiggling out of the conversation. "I don't want anything from you, Jon."
Jon swallowed but he nodded. "Then I won't say anything else about it. I won't betray you again."
"You didn't…" Daisy just accepted she was going to have to let him apologize or he was going to dig his heels in further. Stupid Northerners, they were stubborn as hell. "Fine. If you want to do something to apologize, work with Rickon when we get back to get in control of your warging. It's a gift, part of who you are and not being in control is clearly a problem."
He gave a sharp nod. "I'll do it."
And…it was funny, but Daisy didn't feel like staying up on the top of the tower anymore. "Come on, let's go make sure the men aren't panicking." She raised a brow. "You did get them to swear oaths of silence?"
"I did." He shifted, offering his side for walking inside. "My continued survival was not highly expected."
Daisy fell into step beside him. "Your gods in this world are assholes."
////
Arya had secured a new horse at the last inn. Now as she rode those last miles towards the ever growing shape of Winterfell she was suffused with a longing, a sorrow and a joy so strong it felt like her very soul was crying out at it. But as she passed familiar, yet strange, hills and people, she felt…cold.
The castle was prepared for a siege, the lands around the castle busier than she ever remembered them from her childhood. The Stark banner flying everywhere. Her heart felt like it'd been struck every time she saw the grey direwolf displayed. The faces she passed were strange but so plainly northern. This was her home, but it felt strange. She was a ghost returning, haunting a land that had moved on.
Arya's eyes were automatically drawn to the military strength on display. Her mind mapped out methods of disappearing into the crowds, and how to infiltrate her own home. But she was already invisible, no one cared. Just another northern girl.
As she reached the great gates into Winterfell there were four guards, all pausing to ask those coming into the fortress for their stated business. There were two men recording numbers. All very easy to lie to pass, and yet…she didn't want to. So she didn't lie as the guard closest to her looked up at her.
"What business brings you to Winterfell?" His cleanly scrubbed and neatly groomed face looked up at her expectantly.
Arya replied. "This is my home."
The man blinked. "Er…which servant quarters do you live in?" He was clearly waiting to be told she was the daughter of a cook, a stable hand, that sort of thing.
She looked up at the direwolf carved into the stone. Snow landed on her cheek. "I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and this is my home."
"Arya Stark is dead?" He blinked, looking at her in confusion.
One of the other guards stepped closer. "You sure you want to claim that girl?"
"It's the truth." She would not justify herself for her existence. Her identity was something too hard fought for, too deeply rooted in her bones. It simply was.
The first guard frowned. "If you're lying there'll be consequences."
"If I'm lying I won't last very long." She raised a brow.
He nodded. "Alright, come on." He caught the reins of the horse and led her into the first courtyard. Another guard followed and waved up at two men by a water bucket but rolled their eyes and moved to take their place.
Arya was impressed despite herself. "Dedicated protection."
The guard puffed up in pride. "It's an honor to serve House Stark!"
"Right." She realized she was going to be trapped here while one man went to fetch someone, who would fetch someone, and so forth till someone finally found someone who would be able to recognize her and it sounded…exhausting…and really boring. So she wasn't going to be doing that.
Arya stared at the statue of her father. The crypts were the most familiar thing so far. It felt peaceful here like she belonged. But then death was familiar. A constant companion. She wondered if it was because this was the tomb of her forebears or that it was a house of death?
There was the sound of footsteps, three sets; one heavy, one not quite as heavy, and a third that was light. She looked away from the carved shape of her father and saw the woman at the end of the hall. It was unmistakably Sansa. Not the Sansa of childhood, not the shrieking girl in southern finery being dragged back as their father's head was chopped off. The last traces of childhood had burned away leaving a woman grown.
Arya was struck by how different the woman staring at her was. She looked every inch the Northern Queen the rumors had painted her as, but the expression on her face, even in the flickering light of the crypts, made her heart twist painfully around itself. "Queen of the North?"
"Yes." Sansa came to a halt, her eyes tracking over Arya's form. There was a tension to her frame. "Not pretending to be a boy?"
Arya's eyes flicked to the giant woman knight lingering at the corner, another knight standing near her. "I can take care of myself now."
The corner of Sansa's lips twitched faintly, and the thing on Sansa's face could almost be hope. "You shouldn't have run from the guards, they are very distressed."
"I'd say you need better guards, but they did the best they could." Arya wasn't sure what it was she was feeling at the sight of her sister, the first relative she'd seen since she'd seen her father's head removed. Whatever it was kept her rooted to the spot. "You legitimized Jon?"
Sansa walked closer, her steps measured until she was but two strides away from her. "He's our brother, I was an idiot to ever doubt that. If he wasn't a stubborn fool he'd be here to greet you. He was so happy to see me, when he sees you his heart will probably stop."
"Where is he then?" Arya could hear the fondness and affection for their brother in her sister's voice. It was…unexpected and strange.
Sansa let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. "He insisted on making peace with the Dragon Queen. Shockingly, it seems he might manage it."
Arya felt something settling as she considered her sister. "They say you killed Joffrey. Did you?"
"I wish that I had." Sansa's voice was clear, she meant it. "He was a monster."
She looked away from her sister, back to the statue of their father. It looked a bit like him, or maybe she'd just forgotten the details of his face? "I was angry when I heard someone else had done it. No matter how long my list, he was always near the top."
"Your list?" Sansa was cautious, but then so was she.
Arya answered. "Of people I'm going to kill."
"I would normally assume that was hyperbole but at this point, I have a terrible feeling you're serious." Sansa swallowed. "Bran and Rickon are back as well."
Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. "They were killed by the Ironborn."
"Theon lied. Rickon is half wild, reminds me of you before everything." The expression on Sansa's face was so clearly a soft smile then. "He hasn't bitten anyone for a month."
Arya wondered at the affection there, but then time had changed them all. Her old hate for her spoiled, perfect sister had seemed so silly even if she'd never truly come to like the girl in her memories. "Bran?"
"He's…hollowed out, but pieces of him are there. If you look hard enough." Sansa wasn't softening the blow, but then better alive and broken than dead.
Arya wasn't sure what…she hadn't planned much beyond coming home. Knowing she had been alone too long. That her wolf was right, they belonged with their packs. "You betrayed father to the Lannisters."
"I did a lot of things." Sansa's gaze turned up to the statue of their father. "I was a stupid girl, I learned too slow."
Arya felt something...unclench. This older version of her sister was different. "You weren't completely terrible."
"I was. I'm sorry for how I treated you." Sansa hesitated for a second. "How did you get back to Winterfell? The last we knew was you'd been in the Vale, dressed as a boy, years ago."
Arya didn't respond to the apology, apologies were cheap. And besides, they'd been children. The slights of childish woe, no matter how deadly they'd become felt…pointless. They didn't matter, not really. "It's a long story." She looked at the Queen in front of her. "I imagine yours is as well."
"Yes. Not a very pleasant one." Sansa was looking at her again, looking at her like she never wanted to look away.
She thought…perhaps she could like who her sister had become. "Mine either." And she…Arya gave in then. She took the two remaining steps, half lunging she hugged her sister so quickly.
Sansa hugged her back instantly, desperately. Her arms were like a vice, and oh…the tension hadn't been distrust. It'd been this. Arya buried her face into her sister's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a phantom. Her sister was real, weighted, warm, and so very there. Arya felt something like nostalgia at the tickle of fur against her cheek and nose from the fur collar of the cloak her sister was wearing.
Something untwisted inside her. Arya pulled back, even though a part of her never wanted to let go. There was a thickness to her voice she didn't wish to question. Instead, she raised a brow. "I hear you fucked a god? The song's very catchy."
Sansa's cheeks flushed faintly at that. "Song?" Her voice was resigned, not a hint of the horrified embarrassment Arya had expected.
"Hmm. The Letch, The Leech, and The Lady." Arya was fascinated.
Sansa sighed, her attention turning down the crypt's hall. "Conin, Prince Bran is still in the gods' wood, yes?"
"Aye, your Grace." The male guard, a possible knight, replied, stepping closer and further into the light.
Sansa gave the faintest flicker of acknowledgment. "Good, go and fetch Prince Rickon there as well, inform the staff of my sister's return and ensure her rooms are prepared. And Conin, I expect the lyrics to that song in my quarters when I return to them."
The man, Conin, turned a shade of red that was truly impressive. Oh, he definitely knew the song. "Aye, your Grace." He bowed before scurrying away.
"Come, we have a living family who will be as glad to see you as I am." Sansa stepped, offering her side to Arya.
Arya allowed herself to be guided out of the crypts. Though as they walked the silent halls she spoke. "But really, you're fucking a girl?"
"Her name is Daisy, and it's a bit complicated but yes." Sansa had not a flicker of shame.
"Huh." Arya fell silent. Things had changed, and it was strange, leaving her confused and unsure in her own home. But…it wasn't bad.
Arya took it back, it was terrible as she was nearly knocked to the ground by her baby brother who was taller than her. The lot of them were giants apparently. She wheezed slightly from the force of Rickon's hug, her feet coming off the ground.
His voice was a babble. "You're home! I knew you had to be alive! I knew it!" There were tears in his voice.
She awkwardly hugged back. She didn't know him. He looked like a scruffy version of Robb from her memories. But the Rickon she'd known had still had a faint lisp, only just gotten big enough their mother didn't carry him everywhere. He'd been a baby. She didn't know this boy who was hugging her and crying as he did so. But she knew to her bones that she'd gut any man who threatened him. And maybe that was enough.