Chapter 67Notes:Yo! And since there's been some new readers in the comments asking about it, this fic updates every friday morning, every week. So far I've only skipped one update and it was for my wedding so like, not sorry about that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextTyrion stared at Jon Stark's vaguely slumped form and poured two generous glasses of wine. "I'd have thought you would be happier. You did get your dragonglass after all? There's a thing called a smile if you've heard of it."
"I'm grateful for the glass." Jon actually brightened at that, his whole sincere being radiating with his honesty.
Tyrion handed the man a cup of wine while taking his own seat. "Ah, something else is bothering you then? Lover's quarrel perhaps?" He noted the flinch from the man at the word 'lovers'.
Jon stared into his cup and then drained it. He looked dismal. "I never say the right things to girls…how do you apologize if she doesn't want your apologies?"
"Well, that sounds like a pickle." Tyrion chuckled. "You should have an easier time of it than most. After all, you have a very handsome face."
Jon's face scrunched up. "Why would my face matter?"
Tyrion refilled the man's cup. "Well, women do like handsome men. Just as I would forgive a great many things for a good pair of tits."
Jon spluttered. "I would never!"
"I would hope you would, you are lovers after all? I think you're allowed to look at her breasts, divine or not."
Jon's pale face turned delightfully pink. "I'm not her lover! Very much not." He slumped, his indignation draining. "She's my sister's."
Tyrion choked on his gulp of wine. "Sansa's?"
"Aye…I didn't take the news...well." Jon looked positively morose. "Of course, she insists that it's fine. But it's not."
Tyrion hit his own chest to help himself breathe. "You're saying your sister allowed you and her lover to travel south?"
"Daisy volunteered to come to keep me from getting murdered. I think Sansa was actually considering strangling me beforehand." Jon admitted.
Which…Tyrion's mind raced. "She's that powerful?"
"Aye, what do you think happened to the Boltons? I've seen powerful witches, wargs, dark magics, but nothing like her at all." Jon looked at him seriously.
Tyrion swallowed. Whatever the 'god' was, she was undoubtedly very powerful. If Sansa was convinced Jon's safety was assured in the face of dragons… She had sent two of the most politically powerful hostages that could be had practically into her enemies' arms. This, this would explain it. Also, dissent between this god and Jon would not be useful. The god would almost certainly revert to her lover, not consider switching sides. He chose his words carefully. "Well, why did you react badly then? You seemed quite close."
"Why do you think? After Ramsey, I just…I promised to protect her and for a moment I thought I'd failed. That I had let her be hurt again." Jon stared into the bottom of his once more, empty cup. "I forgot that Daisy would never hurt Sansa, never. And she just keeps saying it's fine, she understands. But it's not fine."
Tyrion poured wine into Jon's cup for the third time. "Well, I find offering a person what they want goes a long way to easing tensions. So, what does your god want? Gold? Sacrifice?"
"Nothing." Jon ran a hand through his hair. "Any gold anyone's gotten her to take lasted about a day before she'd gone and given it to the poor in Wintertown. And she just handed the entire loot from the Dreadfort over to Sansa. Trying to get her to accept anything is like trying to wash a cat." Jon huffed. "And her power doesn't come from sacrifice, it'd mean nothing to her."
All absolutely fascinating facts, dangerous ones too. Tyrion considered the god, and well it was something that they didn't have to worry about the god demanding blood sacrifices. "She must want something? Everyone wants something. Well, besides your sister apparently."
Jon glared at him, but there wasn't much heat to it.
"What does she like then?" Tyrion offered, and well, who knew some kindness to Ned Stark's bastard all those years ago would have been such an important decision? He really ought to be nice more often.
Jon considered his words. "She prefers tea to most anything to drink. She's fond of children." He perked up. "Dragons, she's been excited to see the dragons."
"To observe not harm I presume?" Tyrion mulled it over. Jon would be easy to convince that an alliance between their two factions was advisable. Given a few months, he might even be compelled to bend the knee on behalf of his sister. If both Sansa's lover and brother were convinced, she herself might be prevailed upon.
Jon nodded. "Of course, I don't think she's seen one before."
"Well, tomorrow you and Queen Daenerys will meet to discuss possible terms. And our Queen does love her dragons. A request to see them up close might even serve you well." And avoiding the North being to Daenerys what Dorne had been to her ancestors would be ideal for everyone involved. "Now, I've helped you, any brilliance on the topic of my lost navy?"
Jon took a thoughtful pull from his cup. "It seems to me that your problem is finding the Lannister aligned Greyjoy fleet. Once you find it, well, you have three dragons. So where is it?"
"That is an interesting question, and one I shall ask the appropriate parties in the morning." Tyrion felt rather stupid for not asking it earlier actually. But then whispers were Varys's job, and unfortunately for them, ships did not need to stop at every port along their path. "I must say this conversation has been superb for my ego." He toasted Jon.
Jon looked confused. "How?"
"Because knowing that my wife never would have wanted me in her bed, even had I been as pretty as my brother, is very good to hear. Not that I desired her, young maidens have never been where my tastes have lain, but to know I never had any hope at all takes the insult out of it." Tyrion sipped his wine. "I should have realized, she was far more open to Shay and Margaery than I. And I'm very good company in or out of bed."
Jon blinked. "Oh..that's…well she has been eager to avoid marriage."
"Fascinating." It really was, and it meant if they didn't corner her too hard, political marriage was an option to secure the Vale or the Riverlands that Sansa might actually avoid. Something Tyrion was very keen on happening. Marriage was her strongest bargaining chip, removing it from the board could only be helpful. And being uninterested in marriage while remaining the lover of a being powerful enough to keep all but the most foolhardy of offers at bay, would grant her a unique independence. It was certainly something alright. "So, tell me Jon Stark, how'd a man as honorable as you break his oaths to the Night's Watch?"
Jon reached out and filled up his cup again. "I died."
"Well, that must be a tale." Tyrion was frankly done with what magic was doing to the world. But, at least Jon had looser lips than he should. And Tyrion was far too sober for this conversation. He refilled his own cup. Finally, someone to get drunk with who didn't smell like a horse.
////
Sansa watched with hawk eyes as her sister set into her meal like a starved wolf. It was…well not quite as bad as Rickon's table manners had been, but frankly, it was close. It affirmed that she'd been living rough...Likely since the day she'd escaped out of the stables. Her sister's clothing was practical but of poor materials.
She considered that as she ate her own meal. Perhaps repurposing some of Rickon's things..the seamstresses could cut them in the style Daisy had been wearing. It would take a few days to have anything ready. And..well they had time for Arya to settle into their home. To carve out a role for herself.
Lord Umber rose from his seat, holding up his mug. "To the Starks! Hardest fucking bastards to kill there are!"
The men there, low born and high born all enthusiastically cheered and toasted to House Stark.
Sansa looked at her three living siblings sitting there. She was filled with a relieved wholeness of it all. No doubt once she was alone she would cry for it. But here she remained in control. It was sweet how Rickon was focused on their sister. And it helped distract from Bran eating like some sort of puppet.
Rickon's voice was clear and excited as he spoke. "Brienne said you were pretending to be a boy in the Riverlands! Is that where you've been this whole time? I was in Skagos, and Bran was past the Wall! Course Jon was on the Wall."
"For a while." Arya wasn't fidgety or uncertain, but she wasn't open either. "I went to Bravos for a while."
Rickon perked up. "To learn more Water Dancing? Sansa said you were learning it!"
"I learned a lot of things there." Arya replied, she was looking at Rickon almost as if she didn't understand him?
It hurt Sansa to see it. It'd been so easy with Jon, less so with Rickon but there'd been an ease there all the same. Only now…Bran was a shell of a person, most of him scooped out. And Sansa was unsure of how Arya had been changed.
Rickon was half on the edge of his seat. "Will you spar with me tomorrow!?"
Arya raised a brow, her eyes flicking to Sansa for a fraction of a second. "Maybe."
"It'll be fun! And Jon says I'm getting better! I can introduce you to Fitz too! He's a bit funny, but he's really smart and he's teaching me about bridges!"
Arya wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, it smeared grease across one cheek. "Bridges?"
"Yeah! They're super cool!" Rickon was spending way too much time around Daisy if he was picking up her manner of speech. "We did a Roman arch last week, but he said we could work on a suspension bridge next time!"
Arya's nose wrinkled slightly. "You like building things?"
Rickon nodded eagerly. "It's way better than Sansa's lessons." He winced and looked up at her. "Not that yours are bad?"
"I don't believe many find tax laws interesting." She allowed, giving him a fond smile.
Sansa nearly jumped out of her skin, and almost threw her knife for the intruder's throat before realizing it was Arya. She pressed a hand to her chest. "Does no one knock?"
"Not terrible form." Arya stepped fully into the light.
She lowered the knife. "Thank you? But what are you doing here?"
"I'm not a princess." Arya's grey eyes were a brand as she held her gaze.
Sansa slid her knife back into her gown and stepped to the door and opened it. "Fetch some apples." She shut the door, turning her attention back to her sister. "Princess is a title not a state of being."
"What was it you and your silly friends used to call me?" Arya trailed her fingers along the mantle.
Sansa wasn't sure what was truly being asked, but she replied honestly. She owed her sister more than that. "Horseface, and a great deal of other unkind things besides. I was horrible to you."
"You were." Arya agreed. "But you're not a little girl anymore."
"No, I'm not." Sansa took in the way her sister held herself, it was similar to how Daisy did. The way her eyes moved, the way she seemed to linger on some things. "How long have you been an assassin?"
Arya blinked, and then she was laughing all giggles and peals of laughter. Wiping at one eye she calmed, though the smile never left her face. "I've been a killer since the day the Lannisters betrayed us."
"You were too young to have blood on your hands." If Sansa could scream at her past self for the events she'd had too much and too little to do with, she would. She'd scream at herself till she was hoarse if she could.
Arya's eyes glinted in the low light. "No, there's nothing better in this world than the feel of blood on your hands. It's the sweetest thing there is."
"You sound like the Hound." Sansa wasn't afraid. This felt like a challenge, not a threat.
Arya's head cocked to the side. "He was a good killer."
"He was." Sansa agreed.
"They say you've killed?" Arya pressed a flicker of something in her eye.
Sansa remembered the hot gush of Ramsey's blood on her hands. How it'd splattered across her cheek. They were wolves. "I have, and I'd do it again a thousand times over."
"I'm still not a princess." But it felt like a weight had been lifted, a test passed.
Sansa sighed. "It's a title. You are my sister, that makes you a princess. If you want to be the princess who runs barefoot through the mud wearing rags and waving your sword then that's what you'll be. I would prefer if you let me dress you in something nicer than rags, and I certainly would rather you wave your sword at our enemies." She reached out, cupping her sister's cheek. "I'm just glad you're home."
"No dresses." Arya bargained, though she didn't move away from Sansa's hand.
She smiled. "Naturally." Sansa did tuck away the thought that she was having her windows welded shut. Daisy could learn to use the door.
////
Daisy leaned against the stone railing overlooking the sparing yard of Dragonstone. It was a familiar sight between regions, races, and frankly worlds. Where an army was based, the buff macho sorts would gather and attempt to out macho each other. The Dothraki were interesting in how they differed from the Northerners. Less clothing, shorter curved swords, and a lot more archery. The language barrier would be a bitch, but something was wrong with the Targaryen side and she needed to get a better feel of them, make inroads.
She was definitely going to have a hard as hell time getting any respect from these idiots. The Unsullied were a bit of an unknown…but with so few of them here it'd be easy enough to find at least one lonely dude willing to bond over something. The Dothraki though? She could smell the sexism. Face punching it was.
Daisy picked out the top dog pretty fast. He looked about thirty, muscles everywhere, impressive beard, longest hair in the yard. The cockiness was wafting from him. If she wanted them to take her seriously at all he was whose respect she needed. Which meant he wasn't the one she needed to punch in the face…or rather humiliate. Her eyes tracked to a younger guy who was peacocking with his bow. Hair almost, but not quite as long as top dog. And bragging.
She could admit privately that his archery was fantastic, dude was talented. She could match him, she really was enjoying the bow. But she needed more than to match him, so… well, spy. Playing fair was for losers.
It was…easier than she'd have expected to make two subsequent shots hit just off the bullseye. A simple tremor against the shaft just before it hit, and the arrow landed just off target. As he clearly swore in his own language, Daisy straightened. She could feel the attention of the men, they'd known she was watching after all. She swung herself over the railing and let herself plummet to the ground below. Without the serum, she'd have needed to catch herself with her vibrations or have rolled to keep from breaking her ankles. With the serum? She landed with a distinctive thud.
Which…ow…but made a fucking statement. Daisy ignored the twinge of pain, as she strode to the archer. She came to a stop directly in front of him, she gave a distinctive up-down look from the tips of his leather-covered toes to the top of his shiny black-haired head. She cocked a brow and held out her hand, pointedly.
He scoffed, but clearly felt the weight of the attention of the other men. He said something, definitely insulting, but handed over the bow. Laughing he stepped back waiving towards the targets.
Daisy kept her heart rate down as she plucked an arrow from the bucket of arrows. This was the hard part, she was a good shot, excellent even. But she'd never held this type of bow before, and she couldn't afford a single bad shot. Which meant she needed to compensate with powers. Knocking an arrow off course was easy enough, making one hit true on the other hand..well she'd tried crazier.
Drawing back she breathed out, aiming, reaching out with her senses, and then released.
It hit dead center.
Daisy plucked another arrow, knocked it, drew, and released again. She couldn't help the smug grin as it splintered down the first arrow. Robin Hood bitch. Also, powers were boss. Lowering her arm she turned and handed the bow back to the man. Her words didn't matter, they wouldn't understand. Her tone did. She needed him to do something stupid after all. "Cute."
He shoved his bow into the hands of the man next to him and then threw a punch straight for her face.
She caught his fist in the palm of her own. Her grin grew, oh she'd picked the right second-tier warrior with an ego. "Was that supposed to hurt?"
He snarled, and to his credit didn't try to fight a hold he could feel was too strong. Instead, he tried to bumrush her.
Daisy spun with the movement while keeping her grip on his hand. With the end of the motion, she snapped her free hand to the back of his neck, her other hand adjusting from simply holding his fist, to having a strong grip around his wrist. Between the two she had him bent in half, face to the ground, unable to fight much.
A great deal of what was definitely profanity fell from his lips as she held him still. "Wanna give up there?"
He bucked, desperately trying to get free, and he was going to dislocate his shoulder if she left him to it. Daisy shoved him forward, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
He scrambled to his feet, spit practically falling from his lips as he glared at her in pure rage. And that was threats now, not that she understood them, but she got the idea. He grabbed a sword from another man's belt, before stomping towards her, and then cried out as he charged.
Daisy didn't dodge. She focused on it and shook the iron in his hand to dust as it swung for her head. As the blade passed where her head was, it was nothing but a hilt and dust in the wind. She stepped in then, punching him in the diaphragm hard.
It bent him in half with a sound of agony. She slammed her elbow down on his back, carefully avoiding the spine, dropping him to the ground. This time he didn't get up, instead curling in pain.
She focused on him, a few micro fractures in his ribs closest to the diaphragm, but not damaged badly. Daisy looked up, her face and stance screaming challenge. "Who's next?"
Top dog, and until she got to the introduction stage he was just TD in her head, came forward now. And the look he was giving her was evaluating, not condescending. He shucked off his top layer of warmer clothing and drew his sword, and then waited.
Daisy let the condescension fade from her as she reached up, unlacing the front of her gambeson..jacket thing? Pulling it off she stepped to the side, setting it across a wooden rack. And these were warriors, her scars would give her ground with them. And they clearly cared far less about modesty than the North did….also way warmer down here even if the wind was cold as hell. So she yanked her shirt off, leaving her in her sports bra, pants, and boots.
She walked back to the circle being formed by the men. And she smiled and fell into a stance.
He gave her a look, clearly waiting for her to grab a sword.
Daisy just waved him forward. This wasn't the North, she needed the idea of fighting her to be considered as hopeless a plan as fighting a dragon.
Notes:I'm really interested in how House of the Dragon seems to be trying to actually get into the injustice perpetrated against women as a theme instead of just torture porn. And I'm so here for it. Like they seem to really be thematically focusing in on it and using it with purpose. That said we're only on episode two and I'm reserving the right to change my tune as we go along. Cause ya know, show has barely started. Also loved that the King's reaction to a marriage to a child bride was horrific discomfort. Like yes, yes people were discomforted by that.
Chapter 68Notes:Pumpkin spice season is here and I am basic....alas my bank account is going to hurt from the daily lattes about to happen.
Chapter TextPetyr Baelish watched as Arya Stark sparred across the yard with Brienne of Tarth. Fascinating really, they were both fabulously skilled if not aesthetically pleasing. He noted young Rickon, where the boy was eagerly watching with stars in his eyes. There were too many living Starks. Separating the pack would be hard, and the results hard to predict.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sansa's expression, it wasn't alarmed or concerned, but rather calculating. He may have trained the girl too much. She trusted few, and while necessary the ploy with Ramsey had cost him. Of course who could have guessed a god would drop into the girl's lap?
No, separating the Starks too obviously was beyond him. But he could add enough distrust Sansa might do it for him. "Most impressive."
"She is." Sansa's face was thoughtful, no doubt considering how best to use her disgrace of a sister. In the North, there actually would be options, certainly while they were at war.
His eyes tracked back to Rickon. He was the weak link. If he felt like a threat to Sansa, she might move against him. At the least shuttering him away somewhere for 'his own safety'. But the other Starks might pick up on their sister not being loyal.
He resisted a shudder as the bright red eyes of the giant white direwolf found him as the beast settled against Sansa's side. Her fingers automatically buried themselves into the monster's fur. But then she'd proved herself quite adept at surviving monsters. "It must be reassuring to have so ready a symbol of your brother's loyalty."
"What is it you want Lord Baelish?" Sansa looked at him.
Petyr waited as the royal guard knocked on the door. As the door was opened for him, he swept in. And…what was wrong with the Starks? This was not what a crown prince's rooms should look like! It was a chaos of carelessly laid bits and pieces of whatever a curious boy could stuff in his pockets. Paper drawings of bridges stuck to the walls, stacks of books, bits of paper with sigils, and scribbling about.
Oh, the furs and everything were of high quality, but clearly, that was wasted on the boy. The tower of some sort being made of sticks on one table was not particularly interesting but added to the picture of the boy's identity. "Your Highness." Petyr bowed to the eleven year old.
"Lord Baelish." Rickon blinked at him. "My sister isn't here?"
Petyr straightened. "Well, it's a good thing I came here to see you then."
"Er…why?" Rickon's brow furrowed.
This was why he didn't like children. Not that grown men were often more clever. His face was the perfect image of affability as he drew out his valyrian steel knife. "I thought you should have this, Highness."
"Why?" His face was suspicious then as he didn't attempt to reach out for the knife.
Petyr missed King's Landing. "This was the knife that almost killed your brother. I have no need of it, but perhaps you might?"
Rickon's eyes widened as he accepted the knife. His lips pulled up showing teeth in a distinctly inhuman manner, the great wolf by the fire growled lowly. "How do you have this?"
"Your mother brought it to King's Landing." Fucking Starks and their tempers.
Rickon nodded. "Thank you."
"Think nothing of it, who better to have it than the brother of its intended victim?" Petyr replied, he'd planted the seed. Now there was little left but to see it play out. After all, until the looming war thinned the herd so to say there were few moves to be made. Well, that wasn't entirely true.
////
Daisy was awake…way earlier than she wanted to be awake. She sleepily patted Seth on the shoulder. "Thanks for waking me."
"Of course Holiness." Seth yawned as ran a hand through his hair. "Did ya need anything else?"
She shook her head. "No, go back to guarding Jon."
"Bit hard to do without weapons," Seth grumbled as he turned to leave.
Daisy huffed. "It's about appearances, you're doing a good job."
He preened at the praise, though he stayed tired looking. "If I may, why did you want to be woken this early?"
"I'm a god, the times of day it's acceptable for me to sneak into the kitchens are limited. And kitchen staff know all." Daisy was smug about how the Dothraki sparring had gone. She was vaguely curious about the translation of the drinking song she'd learned last night. Also, honestly, they were so much like the Wildlings it'd been kind of hilarious. She was dragging Lokmir with her next time.
Seth blinked. "Why do you want to sneak into the kitchens? I can go fetch anything you want."
"It's not about the food, it's about understanding how this court functions." Daisy nudged the kid. "You should be able to get some more sleep or get back to guarding Jon."
Seth bit at the inside of his cheek. "I'm not on guard right now…I could come with you?"
"Why do you want to?" Daisy asked curious for the answer. Her followers always surprised her, and she knew Seth and Conin had complicated feelings at both being part of the royal guard and a part of her order.
His brow furrowed as he looked down. "Jon's safe, Joran's on duty right now. And I…I don't totally understand what you're doing. But I want to learn."
"Alright, follow my lead, but just be yourself." Daisy would have been smiling more if she wasn't still exhausted…it felt like she'd barely hit her mattress before Seth had been knocking on the door. She found herself yawning as they walked down the halls. It was easy enough to guide them away from where people were. "Are you liking being in the royal guard?"
He straightened. "It's an honor!"
"I asked if you liked it." She found herself smiling fondly at him, he reminded her of herself when she'd first been given a badge. And, ya know, no evil Nazis waiting to ruin it all for him.
Seth opened and then shut his mouth. His voice was quiet as he finally gathered his words. "I was nothing. We made ships out of the reeds and would ferry people and goods across the river. Only had a small farm. I thought I could learn the trade and in a few years maybe marry a girl, start a family, and make reed boats of my own. Or maybe get an apprenticeship with someone. But then the Bolton army came through."
Daisy listened quietly, frankly at this point she was sure it wasn't possible to be more glad she'd murdered the Boltons. But listening to others kept proving that wrong. Cause fuck the Boltons.
"Father hid my sisters in the house, under the floorboards. But my brothers and I…we wouldn't have all fit so we just waited. Hoped they'd leave us alone. They needed more men. War of Five King's thinned their numbers see. So they took me and my brothers o'er the age of two and ten and pressed us into service. Our Ma..she cried, so they killed her for it. And I served them…for two years I wore their colors, ate their food, and defended their holdings."
She reached out squeezing his forearm. "That wasn't your fault, it wasn't a choice. Death or service isn't a choice."
"Serving you, serving the Starks…is a choice. And maybe I'll be able to look my father in the eye someday." He shook his head seeming to try and pull himself together. "I can make the world better, that has to count for something."
Daisy wished she was a god who could bless or give something of importance to him. "It counts, more than anything. When you had a choice you chose to stay and do the right thing."
Daisy closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she smelled the delicious scent of fresh bread. She grinned at Seth. "Remember, be friendly. We're the nice approachable members of the Northern party."
He plastered on a nervous, but genuine attempt at a friendly smile on his face.
She raised a brow. "Just go with tired, wait till you feel it to smile." Daisy turned her back on him and quietly slipped into the room. Not silently, but not with the appropriate level of panache she really ought to be using considering the 'god' thing. But then that was the point.
Daisy spotted the barrel of fruit and actually felt her mouth water. The lack of fresh fruit in the North was uh…it was a thing. The North mostly just had apples, apparently, they stored well. "Is that a pear?"
One of the cooks froze, eyes widening in horror as he ripped the hat from his head and dropped to his knees. "Holiness!"
The bustle of the kitchen screeched to a halt.
Daisy stepped forward, and carefully helped the cook rise back to his feet. "Don't kneel, you'll just bruise your knees." She gave her warmest smile. "Seth here and I were just hoping to beg for some breakfast before it's served."
"Of course! We can send it ta your quarters." He had an actual tremor to him. His heart was beating near out of his chest.
Daisy released her light hold on him. Ah, this wasn't going to work if they were this scared of her. Terrorizing these poor people was not something she wanted or intended. She kept her smile. "Seth here can bring it up." She hoped he understood the implication to be nice as she touched his shoulder. "Pears, please."
He gave a faint nod, clearly, he'd noticed they were terrified of her as well.
She smiled. "Thanks." Daisy gave a brief parting wave and easily breezed out of the kitchen, her smile slid off her face the second the door closed behind her. That was not a good sign.
As Daisy made her way back to her quarters she paused. "Lord Varys."
"Your Holiness." The bald, enrobed man bowed to her. The faintest scents of perfumes wafted from his deceptively soft person.
So this was the famous spymaster she'd heard so very much about. Daisy note the faintest signs he'd moved quickly, the faint sign of labored breathing disguised. "You had my rooms watched."
"No insult was meant, I assure you, your Holiness." He tipped his head in something no doubt meant to be seen as an apology.
She smiled, well, he wasn't useless at his job. "None taken, I think I'd be more insulted if you weren't having my rooms watched."
Varys folded his hands in front of him, the draping yellow fabric hiding them from view. "Shall I take that as a compliment, Holiness?"
"If you want." She considered him. "I'm curious, how did you miss the rumors I existed? Like I get it, the North is super cut off from everywhere else. But not that cut off."
He straightened slightly at that. "My little birds tell me the strangest things. Who is to say what is true and what is not? So often the movements of mortals cast shadows so large you'd think them a monster instead of a man."
"Come on then, you have my attention till I get back to my quarters." She kept her stride slow however as he fell into step beside her. "What sort of monster were you thinking I was?" She raised a brow, "Or are still considering I might be?"
Varys made a soft noise. "I couldn't possibly say, though so many great and terrible things came from Old Valaryia, and what is to say those dark magicks of east and further still in Asshai, or further still from the land of the God King's in YiTi?"
"Good luck finding the answers you want." Daisy considered him. "I think it'll be more interesting to see you investigate than to tell you." And well, lighting the fire so to say on the small council of men sworn to the Targaryen cause. The more stretched, the more likely someone would make a mistake.
Something like a smile was on his face. "A challenge then? You are quite fascinating, Holiness."
"If you found me interesting, and certainly knew of my existence, why tell your Queen nothing of me?" She eyed him curiously, if she had to guess he'd written her off as a minor witch or creature of magic and hadn't imagined she'd have been part of the diplomatic party sent to Dargonstone.
Varys's vibrations were measured but there was an edge to them and him. No matter how good, he did not like her. "She has a kingdom to claim, baseless rumors that could be nothing would be a waste. I've met warlocks and witches before, they never were so great a threat on their own as you have proved yourself to be."
"Have you?" Daisy was genuinely curious then, magic seemed..subdued in this world.
His voice held old fear turned solemnity. "Oh I have, and much was taken from me."
Daisy didn't touch him but halted her footsteps. "I don't take human or blood or any kind of sacrifice." She held his eyes. "I'd appreciate not being woken to a dead animal on my doorstep. The cost of my powers is mine to pay, no one else's."
"A relief to hear, Holiness."
Daisy slowed, and then fell out of her tai chi stance, using a few brief bursts of vibrations to open the door. "Hey, how'd it go? I'm sorry for leaving you to that."
"No, it was right." Seth set a tray of food on the table. His gaze was fierce as he looked at her. "The fire god, R'hllor. He's vile."
Her brow rose, not that she was a fan of the fire god she'd heard about. The fact the Stormlanders used their faith as a reason for trying to kill Sansa principly, ensured she was wary of the whole damn religion. But she remained quiet.
Seth obliged in answering the unasked question. "Stannis burned all of them that wouldn't convert to worshipping R'hllor." His hands made jerky, angry motions. "When they saw the Targaryen sails on the fleet they got everyone they could out, those here expected to be killed. They all think you might demand their lives for praying to the wrong god." He met her horrified expression. "I promised them you wouldn't, that you didn't even like being worshipped. But…"
"It's alright." Daisy held up a hand. "I'm used to being feared. That's the normal reaction."
Seth bit at the inside of his cheek. "It's not fear, it's….terror."
"Time and their fears not happening are the only things that'll help." Daisy wondered at the fact it actually bothered her. She was used to it? "Did they say anything about the Targaryen court?"
He shook his head. "I failed to learn anything." His shoulders slumped. "I just…they were so afraid and…"
"Hey, no it's fine." Daisy stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. She knew how eager all of the Order members were to please her. Bunch of over-eager rookies, not that she had more than a couple of years on most of them. But still. "You did really good. You and Joran can work on trying to build a rapport with the servants going forward." She squeezed his shoulder, her boys took the faintest failure way too hard. But she was getting the idea that it very much had nothing to do with her.
////
Ser Marlon Manderly had no interest in getting drunk. It might make him a bore, but he didn't intend to end up as fat as his Lord and the heir to his House. Not that it was his place to judge them, but he did not wish to end up looking like them. He was a knight, a trained tradesman entrusted with a great deal by his Lord, and was content with that. And now he'd been entrusted with something of grave importance by his Queen. He would not be clouding his mind with wine. "Water."
"Of course." Tyrion waved to the servant to serve him. "Now, my Lords, I believe we have matters to discuss for our mutual benefit."
Marlon didn't even bother looking at Lord Greengood. They'd spoken ahead of time about what they wished to accomplish here, and he was the one most used to negotiations. He accepted the cup of water. "We do, we all know our respective royal idiots will keep dealing in pointless absolutes till we're all at war if we don't do something about it."
"Bluntly put." Tyrion took a deep drink of his wine as the dwarf settled in his chair. "But not wrong."
Marlon held back any insult he felt in regard to the Lannister dwarf. "The way I see it your Queen demands ours bends the knee. Which will happen when the seven hells freeze over. And Jon wants your Queen to march all her armies North to fight the Dead, which is ridiculous."
"Ah, compromise. You are speaking my language now good Ser. An agreement on Cersei to begin with I think?" Tyrion set his wine down, folding his hands on top of the table.
He gave a nod. "Our own conflict can wait till the Mad Bitch is dead."
"Quite reasonable, your Queen would need to agree to no further moves to gain fealty from regions of the south of course." Tyrion agreed, his green eyes as sharp as any of his family's likely were. It was impressive considering how much wine he had likely already drunk.
Marlon knew his shoulders were stiff with tension, but their god had been right that they needed to intervene before they ended up at war from Jon's good intentions. "Our alliances from prior to this war of course would not be considered an attempt to violate those terms. Our armies already are aiding our allies in the Riverlands." Which was a bit of a stretch from what he knew. Of course, things could change, but the Vale forces held Harrenhall, and any Tully loyalists were likely weeks of sending word of their loyalty if they hadn't already. Not to mention the Blackwoods had already sent word of fealty. Of course, logistically it was a nightmare. But it was far too early to show such weakness.
"Well, that does make it rather difficult to negotiate. What borders exactly would our Queen be required to respect?" Tyrion's voice was grating in its political acumen.
Marlon took a drink of his water. "Any attempts at expanding the Winter Kingdom past the lands of the Vale and the Riverlands. With that front of war settled your Queen will be free to burn Cersei and whatever other mad southern shites she wants."
"Winter Kingdom? Are we to expect you to name Sansa your Night's Queen as well?" Tyrion waved off any attempt to speak to that. "But I digress. The Targaryen court would be amenable to such an arrangement so long as no Northern man at arms, knight, or other soldier steps foot into the Riverlands or Vale."
Marlon gave a nod of assent. "We'd find that amenable." He set his water down. "Let us be blunt."
"I do love your northern bluntness. Makes things ever so much easier to parse out you see." The smug, golden-headed lion replied.
Marlon twitched with the desire to strangle the bastard. "We both know how this will go. Small concessions until we have no further to go without war or a formal alliance."
"My Queen would be amenable to House Stark retaining certain rights and privileges, including the right to call themselves princesses and princes. She is most generous to those who bend the knee." Tyrion offered, but he clearly knew the answer.
Lord Greengood scoffed. "We shouldn't have bent to the dragon fuckers the first time."
"Figure of speech." Tyrion winced. "I suppose we must negotiate something far less secure and binding then?"
Marlon laid his hands on the arms of his seat. "You have an unmarried Queen with no heirs, and we have an unmarried prince. As he would be consort to your Queen a dowry of some contested lands would not be inappropriate. " Not that it'd be called a dowry outside of this conversation.
"Her Grace has many options for husband." Tyrion protested.
He couldn't help the scoff then. "No, you don't. You have Willas Tyrell, some minor Dornish Prince who probably survived to secure either of those two alliances. Those are your only good options. And both are terrible. But you have to have a Westerosi if you want the kingdoms to not crack under her foreign army. Jon's royal, but as a legitimized bastard from a separate kingdom, is no threat to her throne. And he's a good man."
"There's plenty of noble Lords in the south." Tyrion rebutted.
Marlon smiled, it wasn't nice. "Who? You need a son of one of the House's Paramount. You might be able to get around that with the Hightowers, but she can't marry lower or it'll be taken as a snub by your allies, few though they seem to be. House Baratheon is gone, House Martell is in the middle of a coup, House Lannister are your enemies, and House Tyrell has been in bed with the Lannisters for years. House Greyjoy has old repugnant pirates, and a eunuch. House Tully has only Edemure, a broken wreck who was last seen in Lannister captivity, and House Arryn has a mad boy Lord. Do you have some minor but heroic Westerosi general leading your Queen's armies perhaps?"
"Yes, yes, you've made your point." Tyrion downed his wine, before holding it out to be refilled. "Not quite as grim as you're making it out to be. But you've made your point. And beyond some very significant concessions on borders, why should I take this to my Queen?"
Marlon knew it was time to hold out the bait. "The Vale, and our full support in her conquest of the south. Of course, we'd expect aid in our war against the Dead."
"Daenerys can't just march her whole army to the North!" Tyrion protested.
Greengood waved it off. "What good would the Dothraki be to us? Their bloody horses couldn't make it through the snows we'll have had by the time they get there. It's her and her dragons that'd be useful. Mayhaps eight thousand Unsullied, those dragons, and acknowledgment of the North as an independent nation."
"Or, we wait till summer comes again after we've solidified Targaryen rule in the south. Then our Queen, her dragons, and her armies sweep North and force you and your Queen to bend the knee." Tyrion countered, clearly meaning the threat to force concessions.
Marlon shook his head. "And if you try our god will turn your Queen, her dragons, and her armies to bloody paste."
"Yes, your Queen does have a powerful lover. Which makes me question why your god isn't simply taking care of your White Walker problem for you. Or why your Queen's southern enemies still draw breath. A thing I'm grateful for. But still, is it that she hasn't or that she can't?"
"She's the Destroyer of Worlds, what do you think happens if she unleashes her power against a half-million Dead marching across hundreds of miles of terrain? Now, a dragon right in front of her? That would be a different story wouldn't it." Marlon held the half man's eyes.
Tyrion seemed to consider his words, as he drank his wine. "Let's begin with an agreement of peace while my sister lives, shall we?"
"You convince your Queen to accept, we'll convince our Hand to offer it." Marlon paused. "And perhaps if we could get them to speak amicably a possible arrangement might be easier to negotiate?"
Tyrion poured himself more wine. "Then we have some details to agree on."
"Aye, let's get this over with." Marlon agreed as he waved off the second offer of wine.
Chapter 69Notes:Just started rewatching s3 of GoT, I'd forgotten how much I adore Margaery. Like she's such a political shark.
Chapter TextJon wondered if women who gained power were just more impressive than men in general? Because between his sister, Cersei despite how monstrous she was, and now Daenerys, he was seeing a pattern. And he couldn't blame this Dragon Queen's loyal followers, she was compelling. "I think we can both agree we don't want war between our two peoples, and certainly not while Cersei lives."
"And I should agree to this, why?" But she was listening to him. A light in her eye that if she was anything like Sansa meant she was pleased.
He didn't give way in the face of her authority and didn't defer. "Because you want Cersei dead and you want the throne she's sitting on. Better one war at a time."
"Not peace until the dead are defeated?" Daenerys tested.
Jon knew his mouth had twitched slightly at that. "If you don't believe in the Dead, you'd be a fool to agree to it. And we all know Cersei is a monster."
"Very well, Prince Stark." There was an emphasis on his title as she spoke. "You may have your peace, so long as your Queen agrees."
Jon looked over at Daisy. "Would you mind flying an agreement to Sansa so she can sign it?"
"Sure." Daisy agreed easily, as she always did. Something that made Jon resolve to stare at the pigeon he'd caught for longer tonight. Warg abilities maybe worked like that? He should have asked more questions when he'd been able.
Daenerys looked to Tyrion. "I assume you have something prepared already?"
"Oh course, your Grace. Perhaps over a midday meal, to mark the occasion?" Tyrion suggested, and he looked less like he was forcing his cheer today.
Jon cleared his throat. "Your Grace, I was hoping to see your dragons, if you would permit it?" And Daisy would have to come with because she'd never let him near a dragon without her there.
"You wish to see my children?" Daenerys was definitely pleased, her amused air suited her.
He refused to show any unease at the thought of getting any closer to the massive dragons than he already had. "We all grew up on tales of dragons, your Grace."
"Very well, you shall meet my children then." She rose from her seat, two Dothraki guards and her ever loyal Missandei falling into step behind her as she approached.
Jon turned to his own party. "See that the agreement with Lord Tyrion is fair. I'll be safe with Daisy." He ignored the suddenly curious if excited expression on Daisy's face.
He noted the look on Marlon's face…he was going to have to ask about that when he returned. Turning his attention back to Daenerys he politely fell into step behind her. "Thank you."
"You can thank me afterward if you wish." Her eyes were full of laughter.
Jon realized she was expecting him to be frightened. Which was wonderful, he was already terrified. He remained silent as he followed a half step behind Daenerys as they headed out towards the cliffs.
He could have laughed as he realized the Dothraki guards and Daisy were busy trying to communicate without a shred of language in common. But it was clear they liked each other. Which…it didn't surprise him as much as it probably should. He winced slightly as the doors opened, the wind cutting in its sharpness. "Does the wind ever stop here?"
"Not in the time I've been here." Daenerys replied, her face turned into the wind. "Tell me, is it as cold in the North as they say?"
Jon felt a rush of warmth in his chest at the thought of home. "Aye, and colder still. At the Wall, even with a fire in the hearth and furs over you it sometimes felt as if I'd never be warm again. Like my bones were ice inside me." He looked at the land around them, it was beautiful in its own way. "I remember the last winter, even if I was a small boy when it came."
"You were at Winterfell then?" Daenerys asked, genuine curiosity on her features.
Jon nodded. "My father was a good man, he raised me with my siblings. There was only Robb, Sansa and me when winter last was here. It was so cold, the inside of your nose would freeze and crackle when you first breathed in. The snow would glint like diamonds in what little sunlight there was."
"Beautiful and terrible." Daenerys continued to lead them along the stone path.
He looked at the lines of her face, there was an almost unnaturalness to her beauty. "Bit like dragons."
Her lips curled faintly. "Then perhaps we're not so different." She pointedly looked at the…whatever was going on between the Dothraki guards and Daisy. "Should I be concerned by that?"
"I don't believe so?" Jon huffed in amusement. "She punched them so hard they went and stopped thinking of her as a woman and just got excited about how hard she can punch. I think it happens with every warrior she runs into."
Daenerys eyes lingered on the interaction before finally dragging away, and up to the sky. She smiled as one of the dragons cried out in joy at the presence of its mother. The massive red one and still terrifyingly large, though not quite as huge white one, came crashing down upon the cliff's edge. The very ground shook from the weight of them. All thick muscle under heavy scales and rolling power.
Clearly, Daenerys didn't feel the rightful terror and awe the creatures should have inspired. She strode fearlessly towards them. One hand trailed along the edge of the white dragon's snout before coming to a stop before the red one. Her hands reached up as she embraced the snout of the massive red one. It was a monster, its teeth the size of her entire forearm. And he understood why men near worshiped her.
Jon nearly startled as he felt a hand on his shoulder. His head snapped to the side, and then he laughed at the excitement on Daisy's face.
She raised a brow as she looked at him, amused. "Thank you."
"Don't know what you're talking about." He looked away, but he felt warm. It was friendship but also… It felt like forgiveness. "You're going to try and pet one aren't you?"
Daisy just grinned. "Yup!" And stepped forward. Though she didn't just march up to the damn things, which...was honestly rather surprising. Instead, she walked slowly towards the white one. Her eyes locked onto the dragons.
She paused just before and held out her hand like it was a dog, not a dragon.
"His name is Viserion." Daenerys introduced, pride in her children.
Daisy grinned. "He's beautiful."
Jon did not understand women. Scary, awe-inspiring, powerful, but beautiful? And it didn't look like Missandei particularly disagreed from what he could see. Of course, he rather felt a draw to the beasts. If he'd been a boy still he'd have been trembling and yet still have tried to approach them despite it. Now he waited.
Viserion, the white one's neck stretched out, as it breathed in, scenting Daisy. And then it screeched, rearing back, tripping over its own hind legs as it tried to move away from the woman. Its weight crashed, tail swiping towards the god.
Jon let out a yelp and moved to..what? He wasn't sure, tackle Daisy out of the way maybe? He didn't reach her in time. Neither did the tail.
The dragon's tail slammed into an invisible wall near a yard before Daisy. Her hand reached up, palm facing it.
"DAISY!" Jon skidded to her side, grabbing onto her around the waist to try and pull her back.
Viserion screeched again, the sound sharp and painful just to hear.
And then Daenerys did something mad. She ran to Viserion, words on her lips that Jon didn't properly hear. He didn't hear them because the behemoth red one clearly caught Daisy's scent.
The deep guttural sound in its chest shook the air, as it opened its mouth, a bright glow in the back of its throat, and then Jon was reminded of how terrifying Daisy was.
Her eyes widened and then her hand grabbed him and dragged him behind her like a ragdoll. Her other hand snapped upwards and then the world was a riot of reds, yellows, and oranges as they were encased in flames. He looked up at the fire and it was beautiful.
As the flames died out he could see the horrified expressions turning to disbelief. And then he looked up at Daisy.
"Daisy!" He straightened and started slapping at her hair to put out where sparks had landed from her lowering whatever power had shielded them a few seconds too soon.
The giant red one backed up, clearly confounded at its fire not working. And then it lunged, all teeth for them.
Jon barely had time to feel his fear jolt back through him. And then Daisy straightened her arm and the dragon crashed into an invisible wall. Only from here, he could feel it in his teeth, the power circling Daisy.
Viserion screeched again before throwing itself off of the cliff and into the air, crying out its distress. The red one cried out as it hit the ground, it moved back, all snarls, but remained between Daenerys and them.
"So, the dragons def can tell I'm not human then." Daisy stated.
////
Lyarra Karstark stared at her betrothed. She was…she liked his wolf? His wolf was very nice even if Shaggydog was a stupid name for a direwolf. "You don't wish to sit with your sister in court?"
"Er…it gets kinda…boring after a while?" Rickon scratched at the back of his ear.
She sighed. "If I could learn from her Grace, I would never do anything else." Lyarra frowned slightly. "Well, maybe ride."
Rickon always looked stiff or squirming. Today he was somehow worse. "Fitz's lessons make more sense. Sansa's make my head feel all tangled up." His nose scrunched.
"What do your lessons with him involve?" Lyarra forced herself to ask…she rather wanted to kick her betrothed in the shin.
But, Rickon actually lit up at that. "I'll show you!" He grabbed her hand and started dragging her there."
She scowled at him. But her mother's threats kept her from yanking her hand out of his. Urgh, why couldn't he be more like his sister? She cast a longing look at Shaggydog. Petting the wolf sounded better than having to be near the mad god touched lunatic.
Fortunately, he wasn't looking, so she was free to roll her eyes as she half stumbled after him. And she didn't appreciate the amused look on the royal guard's face. Still, they did finally come careening into the workshop.
"Fitz!" Rickon eagerly greeted.
The curly haired mad man looked up from his work, confusion on his face. "I thought you had prince duties?"
"I do." Rickon's cheeks flushed as he seemed to finally realize he was holding hands, stupid boys. "This is my betrothed, Lyarra Karstark."
She stared at the expression on Fitz's face. Why was she the only competent one?
Lyarra guiltily stepped into the Queen's solar. She felt like she was going to cry, but was valiantly trying to blink back tears. She dropped into a deep curtsy. The carpet blurred from the wetness of her eyes.
"You may rise." Sansa's perfectly lovely voice said.
She sniffled but straightened. Her eyes didn't rise any further than the front of the Queen's desk.
Sansa hummed. "So you dumped a bucket of cow manure over my brother's head then?"
Her shoulders slumped more. "I also called him a rude boy and kicked him in the shins, your Grace." Lyarra admitted.
"He left that part out." Sansa's voice had a certain strain to it. And then it softened all at once. "Oh sweetling, you're not in trouble."
There was a rustle of skirts, and then gentle arms wrapped around her. The Queen made soft soothing sounds, her hand gently rubbing circles against her back.
Lyarra burst into tears and promptly sobbed into the shoulder of the Queen's dress. "I'm sorry! I don't wanna get my head cut off! But he's such a boy and I don't wanna be his wife! An-" she choked on her own words and just sobbed harder.
"You're safe." The Queen held her.
Finally, as her sobs petered out, Sansa gently adjusted her so that she could wipe her tears away. "Why don't we sit down, alright?"
Lyarra nodded before wincing at the mess she'd made of the Queen's beautiful gown. "Your dress."
"Is a dress and can be washed." Sansa replied without a flicker of discomfort, just gently shepherding her to a chair by the fireplace. "Do you want some hot tea?"
She bit at her lower lip but nodded. "Thank you."
"Good." Sansa handed her a handkerchief before walking to the door and asking a servant to bring up some tea. She returned and sat across from her.
Lyarra's eyes flicked down. The Queen really had the most lovely hands. "I'm sorry. I know I should be grateful, an' I am! But… it's hard."
The Queen's face was incredibly sad. "I promise you that you are safe here. You're under my protection. There will be no cutting off of heads." A light trace of humor flickered across her face. "So what did my brother do to deserve having a bucket of manure dumped over his head and to be kicked in the shins?"
She knew her cheeks were burning, not that they weren't already splotchy and red. "I didn't understand his numbers and then Fitz kept sighing, and it smelled bad and I just…"
"Got so angry you snapped?" Sansa smiled softly.
Lyarra's fingers twisted in the material of the handkerchief. "I don't want to marry him."
"You have four years yet before I'd even consider allowing you two to marry. And Rickon is my heir, in order for us to survive this winter it's very likely your betrothal will have to be broken." Sansa looked at her, and she was so perfect and pretty. "Right now you're both children, and you're right, he can be a silly boy." Sansa smiled gently.
Lyarra sighed. "Why can't he be more like you? Or even princess Arya?"
"He's his own person." Sansa's face was unfairly kind. "Have you tried just being his friend? It would serve you well whether you two are ever married or not."
She rubbed her nose with her handkerchief. "I don't like fighting or his weird math. What would we talk about?"
"He's a warg, have you considered he likes horses almost as much as you do?" Sansa pointed out gently.
Lyarra blushed more. Oh…that was rather obvious. "I'll do better."
"I'm sure you both will." Sansa replied.
Lyarra really wished Rickon was more like Sansa, even if he did like horses.
////
Missandei slowed as she saw the foreign god, for clearly, that was what she was, leaning against the wall ahead of her. The being was dressed more like her titles, her jacket was pure white, and it was embroidered with red leaves and silver stitches that made her impossible to mistake for anything save important. Unlike the more simple though fine clothing she'd been wearing earlier. She gave the appropriate dip of the head for one of higher status. "Your Holiness."
"I was hoping to see you." The god pushed off the wall, stepping towards her, though she remained a respectful distance from her.
She kept her unease hidden at the presence of a being this powerful "Did you require something, Holiness?"
"I was hoping to speak with your Queen, after this afternoon it's probably necessary." It was not lost on her how the woman wasn't pressing, or attempting to intimidate, despite the fact she so easily could.
Missandei spoke carefully, her voice gentle. "Lord Tyrion or Lord Varys could arrange a meeting for you if you wish."
"I could ask them, but you would understand more easily why I'm less of a threat to her than either of her other advisors would." Daisy reached up and pulled her hair away from her neck, showing a scar that looked like a part of her skin had been cut off with a knife. "After all you could say I'm a fan of her whole 'Breaker of Chains' thing."
Her breath caught in the back of her throat, her eyes widening. That was…her eyes snapped up to the woman's face.
"If it puts you in a difficult position, I get it. I can go find Tyrion." And Daisy took a step back. Her head tilted to the side. "But I think we have some things to talk about, don't you?"
Missandei stood behind Dany's shoulder, curious and nervous about what the god wanted to speak to Dany about. She was reassured slightly by the Dothraki guards, standing at their posts.
"Tell me, why ask to speak to me away from your Northern followers?" Daenerys's voice was wary. Which was wise considering how the dragons had reacted to her.
Daisy took the seat across from Dany without invitation, though who could stop her? "If you think they're my followers you're missing just how much they don't want to follow anyone. And I don't want followers, I'd have made a run for it if a whole ass country tried to follow me. Which, you really shouldn't take it personally, I don't think the North is capable of not being contrary on like the principle of the thing. I have had to punch so many Northerners in the face."
"And yet you call yourself a god." Daenerys replied, the faint twitch of her fingers gave way that she was not as calm as she was attempting to seem, however.
Daisy sighed, leaning back in the seat. "I'm Inhuman, and from what I've read, you and Missandei are uniquely qualified to actually understand what that means. Gods aren't any better or worse than people. And they fight wars like people."
"I care about what exactly you are, why exactly?" Daenerys was listening though.
And Missandei, if the being's scars were what was indicated...it was perhaps possible she was more alike to Unsullied. So she spoke. "I believe she is saying that she is alike to the Unsullied, your Grace."
"Gods have the same vices as humans. Enslaving each other for wars being one of them. I killed the assholes who tried to do it to me. But you could say I'm inclined to like you. Whole 'Breaker of Chains' thing holds weight."
Daenerys' face did something then. "Why tell me this?"
Daisy tipped her head towards Daenerys. "I'm not your enemy."
Daenerys' voice wasn't cold any longer. "But not my ally either?"
"No, but I could be." Daisy brushed her chunk of hair that was now shorter than the rest behind one ear. "And sorry for scaring your dragons. I didn't know they'd react like that. I mean the direwolves took a bit to warm up to me, but nothing dramatic."
Daenerys raised a brow. "You consider what happened earlier just dramatic?"
"I mean, the only casualty was like a bit of hair." Daisy joked like it was nothing.
Missandei wondered what type of being this Daisy was, because she'd been near many powerful people over the years. Many. As a slave, any freeborn was more powerful than her. And as interpreter, she had been beside her master for hundreds of meetings with the most powerful men of the Free Cities. The more powerful, often the more cruel. The truth of a man came out with time. She doubted a god was any different than a man in that.