Chapter 100Notes:Hey! Holy shit, we've made it to chapter 100! Never had that happen before in one of my fics. And don't worry, the plot of Part 4 starts picking up shortly.
Chapter TextSera bustled to the Queen's chambers, she was quietly praying for an uneventful morning. Also desperately hoping the bed's headboard wasn't broken again. The original wouldn't be repaired for a week at least and the gossip already was inescapable. She felt a shiver of dread at the prospect of what the gossip would be like if replacing pieces of the Queen's bed became a usual event.
She gave a light greeting to Wagstaff and Loras who both clearly were quite looking forward to their replacements arriving so that they could sleep. The faintly glazed look in their eyes rather gave it away. All was right with the world however if they were feeling tired, it meant they hadn't had cause to be more alert than needed. Sera quickly opened and slipped into the attached solar. It was the safest option for entry since her Queen had taken a lover.
This morning apparently the solar was not the safe option. Instead, as the door closed a high-pitched scream nearly left her throat. She only just managed not to release it…mostly from sheer shock. Because staring at her with gold eyes was Nymeria. There was no doubt which direwolf it was. And if there was a wolf that should be feared it was Nymeria, as terrifying as its master, only significantly larger.
The she-wolf's gold eyes were fixed on her, ears flicked back as it lay by the fire. Nymeria made almost no sound as she rose and approached.
Sera's heart was thudding so fast she hadn't known it could beat that fast as it pounded in her chest. If it'd been Ghost or Shaggydog she'd have been fine after the initial jolt. But Nymeria looked at you and you knew she'd tasted human flesh and she would do so again.
Nymeria didn't come too close, only enough to hold Sera's eye for a silent moment, and then turned, tail swishing behind her as she disappeared through the open door into the bedroom.
She pressed her hand to her chest, grabbed hold of the table near her, and wheezed. Sweet gods preserve her. She'd thought that'd been it. Sera stared at the open door. Wonderful, she'd have to brave the beast again. A hysterical part of herself wanted to know why the hell that animal was in Queen Sansa's quarters. Ghost made it a habit, but Nymeria rarely came within the walls of Winterfell at all.
Closing her eyes she forced herself to calm down. She was a servant to the Queen and a direwolf, no matter how terrifying, was not going to stop her from doing her job if a living breathing god walking about half-clothed didn't.
Sera straightened but then turned as the door behind her opened again. She frowned as Osha, the wildling woman who served Prince Rickon entered. Her voice was low, conscious of the open door into the bedchamber. "What are you doing in here?"
"The Little Wolf isn't in his chambers, figure he must 'ave stayed here." Osha replied like that was utterly obvious.
Which…would also explain why Nymeria was in the Queen's chambers. If the wolf had just fallen asleep while the family had been spending time together it'd make sense. "Well, the she-wolf is in the bedchamber, don't lose your hand."
"Bloody wargs, the lot of 'em." Osha shook her head and then eyed the fire. "Want to get the fire goin' before we drag the royals out of bed?"
Sara blanched at the thought of dragging Sansa Stark out of bed like a disobedient child…although that explained why Rickon Stark was scrubbed clean, dressed, and out of his chambers at a reasonable hour every day. She wasn't sure what she thought of the methods. It was…ridiculous, but the boy was half feral? She shook her head, now wasn't the time. "Yes, fire first and get those shutters open, before we see to anything in the bedroom."
With a sharp nod, Sera set to the windows, as Osha crouched by the fire. She knew for the first few weeks after he'd returned home Rickon had spent a few nights in his sister's bed, Jon asleep in a chair just watching his siblings. It was all very tragic really, and really rather sweet.
Sera left Osha to the fire and went to go see what they were dealing with. Though it was at least a change of pace to be worrying about the Queen possibly sleeping in a chair so her brother could have the bed, instead of worrying about walking in on a god ravishing the Queen. This position, while an honor to hold, was certainly never boring. She rather wished it was a bit more boring.
Slipping into the bedroom she…it couldn't be boring for once? Not once? Because no one was in the bed, and it wasn't just the Queen and her youngest brother. It was all of them, wolves and people, oh, and the god. They were in a giant pile of blankets, fur, pillows, and limbs on the soft rug before the fire. The signs of the roasted chestnuts they'd been making plain to be seen.
It took a minute to figure out their general configuration. The Queen was sound asleep, half on and half tangled with her god, but Ghost was on top of most of them. Rickon's foot had to be digging into Sansa's side, from where he was curled up into his giant black wolf Shaggydog. Princess Arya was half on top of Bran, Nymeria laying next to them, the she-wolf's eyes fixed on a suspiciously empty cast iron pan that must have held nuts at some point. And really it was all a bit mixed beyond that. Bran had a hold on one of the god's legs, and Ghost's tail was nearly in his face. And Arya certainly had a hand fisted in the fabric of Rickon's shirt, and an elbow in his gut. But they all seemed..peaceful and completely out.
Sera considered. There was no point in getting the fire, she'd end up stepping on someone, and she couldn't do a thing about the bed, half the bedspread and all the pillows were on the ground. She could open the shutters? It still…struck her as a sad thing to disturb this for them. It was so plain to see they all loved each other so fiercely and grieved the hurts and deaths surrounding them all so very deeply. To end this moment of closeness seemed…wrong.
The choice was taken from her hands at the suddenly sharp grey eyes of Arya Stark snapping open and holding her own. It sent a shiver down Sera's spine, same as the look from the wolf had. But with the human she responded by dropping into a curtsy, her eyes flicking to the ground.
"Fuck." The Princess said finally. She partially rolled off of her brother only to, well, end up mostly on her other brother who let out a sound far too like a growl for a boy.
The god's eyes snapped open, her arm that was around Sansa tightening slightly before relaxing again. Which is when Sansa groaned, clearly woken from her brother's foot kicking into her more as he tried to shove Arya off of him.
Sera's lips twitched despite herself as she rose from her curtsy. There were some hissed and groaned insults. Prince Rickon's voice cracked out a grumbled "Get off!" Shaggydog made a yipping sound as someone stepped on his tail.
"ENOUGH!" Sansa glared at her siblings as she sat up. "I believe we can all get up without trampling each other?"
Even the wolves seemed slightly cowed.
With a laugh, the god lept to her feet with an ease that Sera would have thought inhuman if the princess hadn't immediately done the same. The god offered out her hand to the Queen, a smile on her lips, even if the lines of the blankets were still pressed to her face, and her hair quite a mess. Arya just kicked at Rickon who glared up at her as he scrambled to his own feet.
And Sera, for all that watching the royal family when they were so clearly half asleep was amusing and they might all be a bit of a bunch of mavericks; they were the North's maverick royal family thank you very much. For all that though, what caught her attention was the Queen and her lover. Which…the god had been here sleeping on the floor, letting a giant direwolf drool on her, and a prince hug her leg.
Daisy smiled at Sansa as the Queen set her hand in Daisy's. "My Queen," she drawled, as she easily helped Sansa rise to her feet, her free hand finding Sansa's waist as soon as Sansa was on her feet.
"Urgh, can you two not make eyes at each other for five minutes?" Arya snarked while ducking a light attempt at revenge for the kicking from Rickon.
Bran cleared his throat. "I cannot get up."
"I got you." Daisy swooped down, lifting him with a terrible gentleness and helping him to his chair. "Want a pillow for the chair?"
Bran blinked sluggishly, huh, sleep slowed even his strangeness. "No."
Daisy gave a nod of acknowledgment, giving Bran's shoulder a light squeeze before moving to separate Rickon and Arya, neatly moving around Shaggydog who was loping out of the bedchamber, Nymeria at the direwolf's shoulder. Clearly, the wolves were as done with their masters as the Queen seemed to be.
Sera moved and began to open the shutters. A fond feeling was in her chest as she listened to the quiet marshaling and yawning of the various members of the royal family. She wondered at the god slinging an arm around Rickon's shoulder and pulling them out to the solar with a final wink at Sansa. It was…not Sera's place to think about what it meant. No matter how remarkable, and awe-inspiring it might be. Terrifying in its weight.
She moved to begin pulling a gown out for the Queen. The royals would sort themselves out. And well, at least the gossip mongers would have naught but the royals falling asleep while roasting chestnuts to speak of. It was rather sweet. Sera's eyes flicked to the new, and far lighter wood, of the temporary new headboard on the bed, at least it wasn't as interesting as yesterday had been.
"Sera," Sansa's voice called, "For your discretion, thank you."
Sera laid the dark grey court gown on the bed. "Of course, your Grace."
"If you need help to put things to right, just ask for it." The Queen's eyes cast to the…well disaster of bedding on the floor intermixed with nut shells, and tufts of wolf fur. There was a faint pink to the Queen's cheeks.
It struck Sera in that moment how young the Queen was, only just the age most village girls thought of marrying and mayhaps having their first babe if even that. Daughters often were allowed to reach two and twenty before their families grew anxious to find them a match. Sera stepped to the Queen and waited for a faint nod of assent before assisting her in getting out of her gown from the day before. The whole dress was wrinkled to pieces and slightly damp from wolf drool on one sleeve. Honestly. "Shall I call for a bath to be fetched this evening?"
"Please." Sansa allowed.
Sera wondered at servants who spoke freely with their masters or mistresses. But then, perhaps her lack of question was in part why she was permitted to retain this role even now when plenty of more highly trained and well-positioned servants were available. Still, she spoke carefully. "If I may, perhaps some additional preparations could be done when his Highness, Prince Jon returns home, your Grace?"
"That would be…" Sansa's characteristically sharp gaze was shockingly open and unpracticed, "I would appreciate that very much if you prepared such a thing."
Sera smiled slightly as she helped her Queen step out of her gown. "Very good, your Grace."
////
Daisy kept her voice kind as she gently reached out and pointed at the report on a recent spat of gossip about some of the more ribald tavern songs about the Queen. "Is that another version of The Letch, The Leech, and The Lady?"
"It's a popular rhythm, they're all copying each other," Walter grumbled.
She huffed in amusement. "Well, you've flipped your 'b's and 'd's. The circle goes to the right on a 'b', to the left for a 'd'."
"Shite." Walter hissed glaring at his letters in sheer frustration only to freeze. He looked wide eyed at her. "I didna mean that!"
Daisy actually laughed, her hand easily falling on his shoulder. "You totally did, and it's fine." She gave his shoulder a pat before moving toward where Hogg was.
"Holiness!" Hogg quickly grabbed a stack of pamphlets and offered them out. "I was thinking about having the men start writing these? To practice, ya know?"
Daisy looked at the careful, slow, and deliberate lettering that said Hogg had written these himself. And as she skimmed it she realized what it was. It was a short series of folk stories. "This is great, when did you have time for this?" She looked up at him.
He puffed slightly in pride that nearly glowed from him. "In the evenin' sometimes we have time. I thought, well it'd be good to write something that didn't feel important maybe?"
"You're not wrong. This is…it reminds me of children's books we had in my world. Really, this is very cool." She wondered what else her cult would get up to with her not watching them regularly. They certainly were actively planning on growing, a thing that was slightly concerning. But she'd structured them right, they were shockingly self-contained and self-reliant. Her presence was hardly needed at this point for more than carefully making sure they weren't heading towards crazy religious land. But they'd gotten the 'no blood sacrifice' thing pretty solidly. Also 'don't overthrow governments'. "I'm sure some of the other men would have their folk tales to add if you wanted to maybe record more?"
Hogg beamed. "I thought it might be good to add to the library. Ya know, it just… doesn't have Northern legends in it really. Maesters don't like our people much, never bothered writing our stories down."
Daisy's fingers absently touched the wolf ring that was set on her left hand, it was a habit that she found herself touching the ring throughout the day. "I'm sure Sansa would be glad to see your legends recorded. And well, half of them seem to be like, just actual history."
"There is that." Hogg nodded before pausing. "Forgive me Holiness, but you leave for Highgarden again in the morning yes?"
She looked at his round and reverent face. "Yes? Did you guys need something before I go? I don't think I'll be away long this time."
"It's just…" His cheeks heated with embarrassment, eyes set on her chin. "You are very respectful of her Grace's time. Other than the occasional late morning, ya mostly wait to spend time with her when she is at her leisure." He somehow was getting even redder.
Daisy raised a brow, one hand settling on her hip as she watched him. "She's kinda busy being Queen?"
"Well, aye, very devoted. Don't think there's been such a good Queen or King as her. Doesn't leave the ruling to anyone. She cares." Hogg nodded, his honest admiration for Sansa clear to be heard. It was striking in its honesty. "It's just…her Grace was so happy after you stole her for the afternoon. An' when you're here she's…lighter. An' you are too."
Both of her brows rose up, a warm bubble of affection in her chest. "Are you suggesting I go distract the Queen from the business of state?" Her tone gently teasing.
Hogg's spine straightened, his shoulders set. "Aye, I think I am."
And well…Daisy couldn't deny she didn't want to be anywhere except by her…wife's side. Wife, just the word made something in her bones settle, the buzzing of the vibrations in her bones lowering to a contented hum. "You're a sweet man."
"Just saying the obvious." Hogg's cheeks were still scarlet.
She reached out and covered his hand with her own and squeezed gently. He looked up and so clearly got the point, and just smiled at her. And she found herself smiling back. If she was going to trust in a cult not turning into something nightmare inducing, well she trusted him with it. His kindness was more important than other skills or abilities or talents. And maybe…he was sort of a friend, even if he did worship her…which was never going to not be weird. But yeah, he was a friend.
////
Sansa looked up from her draft of options that would be acceptable for terms of trade with the Reach at the sound of her door opening. She wouldn't have thought Lords Manderly, Mallister, and Blackwood as well as Lady Dustin would have reached her solar so quickly, she'd only just sent for them to ensure everything was in order before her terms were sent to Lord Willas Tyrell. "Daisy?" Her shoulders relaxed.
"So, Hogg thinks I should bother you while I'm here. Something about most businesses being able to wait." Daisy had a fondness to her as she lightly closed the door behind her that gave away that Hogg had said something far more personal than how Daisy was paraphrasing it.
Sansa considered her. "What did he actually say?"
Daisy's face was soft. "That you're the most dutiful Queen to have ever lived and business of state can wait since we make each other happy."
"Oh." Sansa lowered her quill. "And what do you think of that?"
Daisy smiled as she circled Sansa's desk and hopped up onto it, her feet leaving the ground. "Well, Jon and Marlon did teach me cyvasse, and I don't know, I did promise to teach you how to waltz sometime."
"You are a terrible influence." Sansa smiled despite her words, her hand reaching out and taking Daisy's where it lay on the edge of the wooden desk. "My lords might not forgive you for distracting me so often."
Daisy just looked smug. "Good. Also, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm helping your brother bring peace to the realm and all that. And as Hogg pointed out, you do know as Queen you're horrifyingly competent and dedicated?"
"Hmm." Sansa hummed, letting the quiet warmth of Daisy's presence warm her. "Dancing and games instead of business, wife?" She knew she could easily give what she was currently working on to Manderly or Dustin. Either of them were perfectly capable of ensuring nothing had been missed. They'd already assisted in what was done of it already.
At the word 'wife' Daisy's expression went from smug to genuinely brilliant before she bent forward, her lips barely touching the shell of her ear, her short hair brushing against her cheek. One hand gripping the back of Sansa's chair behind her other ear. "Well, as much fun as other things can be, I wasn't planning on scandalizing your court by dragging you to bed in the middle of the day." Her tone lowered ever so slightly. "Although I could be persuaded."
"Tempting." Sansa felt a warm flutter in her chest. The quiet teasing wasn't serious, she could feel the lightness of it. She stood slowly from her seat, Daisy mirroring the movement by leaning back, though not lessening the distance between them.
It was easy how her hand fell to Daisy's lower thigh, gently adjusting her so that Sansa could stand between her legs, their fronts barely a hands width apart. Her eyes closed, their temples pressed together. "Alright then."
"That's to the cyvasse and dancing, right?" Daisy checked, her smile audible in her voice.
She huffed. "Yes to the cyvasse and dancing." Sansa felt a quiet longing for the simplicity of what Daisy was suggesting, the idea of a few hours of simply being allowed to exist together without war, or food production, or trade, or separation looming first in their thoughts. A small window of time that would become more and more impossible to carve time out for as this short breath of peace came ever closer to an end.
"Awesome." Daisy shifted, kissing her softly.
Sansa sighed into the simple sliding of lips. It was unhurried or leading. She found her hands drawn to Daisy. Her hand on Daisy's lower thigh, trailed up to Daisy's waist, pulling them closer as her other hand rose to cup Daisy's jaw. Sansa found nothing but contentment at the feel of Daisy pressing back ever so slightly, one of Daisy's hands on her lower back…very low, and the other at her neck as her mouth began to softly slide across her jaw.
She bit at her bottom lip a hum in her throat at the feeling. Even with the light touching of Daisy's lips, Sansa could feel this quiet moment passing, Daisy to pull back in a few moments. Only several things happened all at once.
The door to her public King's Solar, opened, poor Briennes's voice cutting off sharply halfway through. "Your Lords, your Gra-"
"Good gods, I am so sorry."
Sansa's eyes snapped open and could feel her face turning a brilliant red as there in her doorway was half her small council…who she should have been expecting. What was…there was nothing to say to this.
Arya, why was Arya there? had the stupidest grin on her face. "Sister."
Daisy let out a helpless laugh, her forehead falling against Sansa's shoulder as her own shoulders shook with laughter.
Oh gods, she was going to have to say something. "My apologies…" What…for gods sake Daisy was laughing with her head against her shoulder. It was so far past propriety Sansa hadn't the faintest clue on what to do.
Daisy slid off the desk. "What her Grace means is that she's just agreed to a game of cyvasse with me." Her laughter was still painted across her face, as she caught Sansa's hand and pulled her to the door while grabbing the stack of notes on the trade deal and stuffed them into Arya's hands. "I'm sure you can handle the final notation on that without the Queen?"
"You owe me." Arya's eyes were twinkling with laughter as she gave a faint tip of her head to Daisy.
"Naturally, you can try and stab me some more later or something." Daisy just grinned and pulled Sansa straight past her advisors and out of the solar.
Sansa was fairly sure her face had never been so red in her life, her throat closed in sheer mortification as her poor Lords and Lady Dustin were forced to bow as she was whisked away without further ado or chance of in any way attempting to salvage some dignity. Two corners later, and headless of the servants about, Daisy turned, bringing them to a halt. She had a stupid smile on her face. "Sorry."
She couldn't help it, she just pressed her face into Daisy's shoulder and giggled helplessly. "No, you're not." Her face was horribly hot. "I'm never going to be able to look my council in the eye again.
"Nope." Her wife laughed high and bright. And it was wonderful and mortifying all at once. So really rather perfect.
Chapter 101Notes:Back to Highgarden!
Chapter TextTyrion Lannister, Hand to the Dragon Queen, was bored, uncomfortable, and very sick of being in this blasted wagon. Fortunately, an end was in sight, literally. For up ahead on the Rose Road was Highgarden. Which even from here was the single oddest sight Tyrion had ever before beheld. There was damaged stone, at least one shattered tower, and yet the countryside was unharmed, with not a bit of turned-over turf from a besieging army, which was terrifying in its implications. As were the thousands of daisies growing among the grass for miles.
He looked up at the approaching party riding to meet with them. At its head Jon Stark, men of Tyrell household colors as well as several Dothraki, and a boy in the oranges of House Martell. "What in the seven hells is a Martell boy doing with Jon Stark?"
"I couldn't say, but it seems our short parting from the Queen has been eventful," Varys said from his seat beside Tyrion on the cart.
Tyrion really rather hated being dragged along with the baggage. "So it would seem." He recognized the personal sigil of a tall handsome man in Tyrell colors with the distinctive golden brown curls and green eyes of the Tyrells. "And it would seem we are to be greeted by the second son."
"Ser Garlan Tyrell, the Gallant." Varys clearly thought as much of that title as Tyrion did. "We must be missed for such a greeting party."
He looked at his fellow advisor out of the corner of his eye. "Is that sarcasm I hear? I didn't know you had the balls for that."
"I find balls have very little to do with such things," Varys replied.
Tyrion sighed as his attention returned to their approaching welcoming party. "Needling you is quite frustrating, you don't even have the good grace to be insulted."
"I've come to be glad of what I am." He straightened, his voice rising. "Our apologies for not rising to greet you, your Highness, my Lord."
Garlan and Jon's horses turned, their party sliding into the still-moving baggage train. Garlan's voice was deep and warm. A handsome voice for a handsome man, Tyrion rather bitterly thought. "Welcome to Highgarden, my Lords."
"A warm welcome I'm sure." Tyrion gave a nod to Garlan. "Ser Garlan the Gallant I assume?"
The Tyrell drew up in the saddle. "In the flesh, Lord Lannister, Lord Varys. The hospitality of Highgarden is yours."
"Well, I thank you for that. I can't say how very tiring sleeping in tents and riding in a cart has been." Tyrion forced a false sense of cheer. He'd heard the barely restrained loathing in the word 'Lannister'. Wonderful. More people to hate him for his family's crimes.
Jon chuckled. "Good to see you again."
"Ah! The mighty bastard prince! Tell me, how is our resident god? I see she held up her end of the bargain here." He prodded, more information was always useful.
Garlan Tyrell's face did something terrifying then, he looked reverent. "We were delivered from death."
"Quite a dramatic turn of phrase," Varys said slowly. "I've heard whispers of a lake of blood?"
Garlan's eyes weren't quite on them, seeing his home at a different time than the present. He swallowed. "It was past a man's knees in some places. She would look at them and they simply ceased to exist, a shower of bloody nothing. But the men who fell to their knees…her power passed over them. I thought…we all thought she was the Stranger come to take us all."
"You probably shouldn't say that to her again," Jon said with a faint wince. "She'll insist it's not her power."
Tyrion's mouth was rather dry and he was very much wishing his ability to drink freely of wine had not been taken from him. If he even began to approach being tipsy now, the Dothraki took his drink from him. "I suppose to a 'god' the difference between ruin and death itself might be more important than it appears to us, mere mortals."
"Goddess Quake has been an honored guest," Garlan spoke with the conviction of a man who'd lop off heads if he heard insult to his guest.
Well, fuck. That could make things very complicated depending on how indebted the Tyrells felt themselves to Quake. But then, Daenerys had paid the price for this miracle, so there was hope yet things hadn't gone to shit in the few weeks since he'd been fully abreast of the situation. "Of course she is, I assume she has enjoyed her time in the Reach?"
Jon spoke up. "The Reach has been everything it is claimed to be." He gave a forlorn look at the walls of Highgarden. "Daisy's spent a lot of time in Winterfell though, just got back this morning."
"It has been an honor to host so many distinguished guests," Garlan said, and he actually looked like he meant that. Tyrell though, appearing honest didn't mean much.
Varys hummed. "Fascinating, she must be very attached to your sister, your Highness."
"Aye." Jon's face was properly conflicted. Which, well, few men liked thinking of their sisters engaged in sexual relationships. Though Tyrion was quite sure Jon didn't worry in the faintest for Sansa's safety in such an arrangement, and thus Tyrion accepted it was likely quite safe, and probably quite good. Which, good for his former little wife, she deserved some good fucking.
Tyrion lifted his waterskin, he really missed endless wine. "Well, to a happy god, yes?"
Nobody joined his one-man toast, but Jon's lips did twitch, so Tyrion jotted that down as a victory.
Garlan spoke up. "A small luncheon will be readied for your arrival. No doubt you will wish to speak with the Queen once you have arrived before the food is served."
"Yes yes, food, wine, and our Queen's good health." Tyrion looked at the Martell boy who was looking at Jon like the man was his personal hero. "And who is this fine young lad?"
The boy drew himself up, actual outrage on his face.
Jon shot a look at the kid. "Mors Martell, my squire." He made a gesture to the boy. "Mors, this is Tyrion Lannister, Hand to the Queen."
"Well met." The boy bit out, giving the single sharpest gesture of respect possible.
Tyrion looked at Jon. "How in the seven hells did you end up with a Martell squire?"
////
Olenna Tyrell watched with hawk-like attention and deep satisfaction as they played host to a more prestigious gathering than had likely ever been held in all of Westeros before. Revenge was benefiting her House greatly, a fascinating phenomenon. She might not have a granddaughter on the throne, but she'd make her enemies pay in rivers of blood for taking her son and granddaughter away from her. Rivers of blood they had already paid, and she'd ensure it continued till there was no more blood left to be run.
"Ah, the infamous Queen of Thorns, I'd say it's good to see you again, but I doubt you'll enjoy cutting at all of my many and varied flaws." Tyrion Lannister remarked as he climbed into the seat across from her.
She scoffed, popping a fig into her mouth. "You've done quite well for yourself. Remarkable, really. Of course, you've made yourself few friends."
"Ah, I've never had many friends. Perils of being a dwarf." Tyrion joked easily.
Olenna wondered if he'd come out of his cups long enough to realize how dire his position was. Well, how dire it would become if the Queen went North. She had no interest in telling him if he hadn't realized it yet. "Always being a dwarf with you. Magic, gods, and dragons walk the earth now. Your misfortunate stature is hardly worth speaking of."
"Fascinating time to be alive." The man lifted the cup of wine to his lips, closing his eyes at it. "Well, assuredly we have all earned our places in the history books."
She scoffed. "Along with the corpses." Olenna's eyes flicked to where the Goddess had just sat beside Garlan and Leonette where they had been playing a game of cyvasse.
Oh, that was interesting, they'd all noticed that the Goddess had been gravitating towards the pair. She also seemed to favor the freed girl who served their Queen. If the Goddess wasn't in the company of Jon Stark, or Missandei, she was often to be found near Garlan and Leonette. It was…promising. Olenna had nearly written her family off as utter failures at gaining more than passing notice from their divine guest, but perhaps she'd judged too soon.
Tyrion pulled her attention back to himself. "History makes corpses of us all."
"Yes yes, and back to dirt we shall go." She was exhausted by the man already. The joy of verbally sparring was not what it once was. "Tell me, did Essos make you depressing as well as give you a beard?"
He made a sound of amusement. "Ah, as tart-tongued as ever. I must confess, I have nearly missed you, my Lady."
Olenna rose to her feet, her hands holding her cane. "I shall leave you to your wine, my Lord." Fuck politeness. She made her way toward where her eldest grandson, Jon Stark, and the Redwyne twins were standing together. She nearly changed directions, the twins were hardly thrilling conversationalists. However, she'd committed to the movement.
"Grandmother." Willas greeted, an amused twinkle in his eye. He knew how she felt about the Redwyne twins. Horas and Hobber were unfortunately important politically to the Reach. And family, she was born a Redwyne after all.
She held her grandson's eyes. "I expect cheese plates served soon."
"Of course." Willas waved to a servant nearby.
Olenna turned her eyes. "Stark, Redwyne, Redwyne."
"Lady Tyrell." Horas Redwyne, and heir, dipped his squarish freckled face, his unflattering orangish hair ruffling in the light breeze. His eyes though flicked to the Goddess unconsciously every few seconds.
Huh, well, at least he was smart enough to be nervous about the goddess. "Yes yes, how is that nephew of mine doing? I assume if he's sent you two he's begun to call his banners as he ought?"
"Father will have his armies prepared to march in a moon's time." Horas reported his unremarkably homely face hard with determination. Poor fool. "We'll avenge your granddaughter."
Olenna had purposely forgotten about the twins' crush on her granddaughter. Well, at least it would keep them devoted to the cause. "I'm sure you'll do your best."
Jon Stark shifted from looking like a stiff board of confusion to relief. "Daisy." He smiled, his shoulders untensing.
"Avoiding Marlon?" Daisy grinned, she lazily strode with the ease and grace that said she knew exactly how powerful she was. Confidence like that was for idiots or Kings, and Goddess Quake was not an idiot.
Jon's too pale northern cheeks flushed slightly. "That obvious?"
"Well he's currently trying to extract himself from a conversation with, I think those are Beesburys, to come hunt you down." Daisy casually touched Jon lightly in greeting. If she was fucking him she hadn't since arriving in Highgarden. Perhaps she had moved from Jon to Sansa? Whatever the case, she allowed him great freedoms that were unlikely to be seen without some form of intimacy.
Willas, bless him, spoke. "Well spotted, I had not thought you would know the colors of our bannerman, your Holiness?"
"They've got bees embroidered all over themselves, and you have an impressive amount of books in the rooms you've lent me." Her eyes were smiling, and ah, she certainly knew the rooms she had been given were normally Willas's, but as the finest in Highgarden had been surrendered to her.
Willas gave a pleasing sound. "Ah, if you wish for further reading we can send for texts on any subject you prefer from the citadel, Holiness."
Olenna would have rolled her eyes. "Your Holiness, allow me to present my nephew's children, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber Redwyne of the Arbor."
Both boys immediately bowed as low as could be politely done. "Holiness."
"Nice to meet you both." She cocked her head to the side slightly. And oh, she could tell them apart despite them being identical save for the difference in clothing to ensure who the heir was, was apparent. Fascinating.
Horras offered his hand, and immediately brushed a light kiss to the back of the Goddess's knuckles, his brother doing the same a second later. "It is an honor to be in your presence. House Redwyne is at your service should you want for anything, Holiness."
"Thank you, though really, you don't have to." Goddess Quake at least seemed not to be displeased by the Redwyne boys.
Willas spoke before one of their Redwyne kin could try and push. "It is an honor and a pleasure to have you back once more. Did his Highness, Prince Rickon, like the hawks?"
"He's delighted. He and Lyanna Mormont found out Lord Royce has a soft spot for the birds and convinced him to take them out hawking. Poor man doesn't know he just agreed to many, many trips." She looked positively affectionate as she spoke of the Northern prince.
Jon chuckled. "At least he and Lyanna aren't trying to kill each other any longer."
"I think it's just how he makes friends." Daisy patted Jon's shoulder. "He drives any girl his own age into a murderous rage, and then after they've attempted to murder him they're best friends."
Olenna laughed at that. "Bah, boys that age are never much good with girls are they?"
"You're not wrong." Daisy grinned.
Willas glanced at Jon. "I don't know, do you believe we should take offense at that, your Highness?"
"I don't know, but I think girls at that age give us boys every right to be terrified." Jon really was a handsome man when he smiled.
Hobber spoke, frowning. "Terrified?"
"Aye, I saw my sisters fighting when they were that age and stayed well clear." Jon was positively glowing with familial affection. "I did give Arya a sword though."
Daisy's grin grew. "She's really good at stabbing things with that sword."
"Good." Jon gave a nod, pride plain as day. Honestly, reading his moods was far too easy.
Olenna did raise a brow though. "Women fighting seems strange to me."
"Doesn't matter much who stabs your enemy, long as they're dead." Jon replied with the practical bullheadedness that seemed to so rule his person.
Horas interrupted with an audible groan. "What's Randal Yelshire doing here? I thought he meant to be a septon?"
"We're at war, soon to march our armies as our Queen dictates." Willas' eyes narrowed ever so faintly, he clearly would be sending some poor cousin off to make sure the idiot didn't get drunk as he had at the harvest feast three years ago. Though if he'd 'found his calling to the gods' perhaps he no longer publicly drank too much? "It is not so odd he would attend."
Olenna's mouth pulled slightly as she realized the idiot was going to come to introduce himself. Her brow nearly furrowed at the realization that not only was he marching straight towards them, but the man's face was tight with outrage.
"Randal, I had not realized you had arrived so early." Willas greeted, a handsome if fake smile on his face as he clearly had caught what Olenna had and meant to get the fool away from their more important guests. Certainly the Goddess. Small mercies the Queen was speaking with her newly returned Mormont man.
Randal utterly ignored Willas, instead his focus utterly on the Goddess as he came to a halt a solid ten paces away from them. "WITCH!"
"Seriously?" Goddess Quake raised a single brow, the back of one hand automatically stopping Jon Stark from stepping forward.
The man's chin was raised as he seemed to think he could stare a goddess down. His voice was loud, causing everyone to fall silent to witness the insanity no doubt about to leave his mouth. "How dare you spread your lies to the faithful! You and whatever cheap charlatan tricks and foreign magicks you pedal do not belong here. I know not how you've beguiled these good people, but I won't be tricked by you and your foul blasphemy and lies!"
"Blasphemy?" Goddess Quake was looking at him like he was some strange child throwing a tantrum.
Which…Olenna would have grabbed Randal if she was close enough to be able to do so to shut him up before he got not just himself, but all of them killed. But in doing so she'd have drawn attention to herself.
"YES! The Seven that are One rule here, not whatever depravity you whisper." He snarled. "You shame your father and father's House, no matter how small and foul it must be to have produced an abomination such as yourself! That you would sell your blood for power to those twisted trees and ancient evils says all that needs be said to know you for what you are."
Jon Stark's mouth was pressed into a thin line as he seemed rooted to his spot only by the Goddess's unspoken command to do so. But Olenna had no doubt that if the Goddess wasn't surely about to kill Randal the Stark boy would do it for her. But to insult not just the Goddess's own person but her father and kin was…the man would not be walking away alive. Olenna would have him killed if he somehow survived what she could no longer prevent. None of them could. To intervene now was to invite death on themselves.
"What am I then?" There was a coldness to the Goddess's tone though as she crossed her arms watching him, mouth nearly smiling, her eyes decidedly not.
Olenna felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Oh, oh no, their guest was going to give him all the rope he could want to hang himself. And she was going to watch him do it before acting.
"A perverse cunt that will drag us all to the seven hells if you are not stopped! Cavorting with demons and dark things. You've sold your soul for power and it will consume you and us with you. Daring to speak for the gods, condoning sin. I pray that the Seven shall surely smite you for your depravity. To walk and speak above your betters. You would make whores of us all." Randal breathed in, his chest nearly heaving from the force of his religious fervor. "I attaint you for the curse you are! You would have men lay with men, women with women, women command men as if it is their place to do so, holy marriage broken for cheap lusts, our souls damned, murder, an orgy of blood and violence, noble houses no better than pigs in the mud. You should have prostrated yourself before the Seven for absolution you do not deserve. Already you corrupt all those around you."
Randal waved one hand. "They all whisper your crimes already. But then it would be the savage, ruined whore, Sansa Stark who pretends to be Queen over her own brothers who would sell herself to your lusts." He sneered before choking, grabbing at his throat.
"You shouldn't have said that." And oh. The Goddess's expression had lost all humor, her eyes narrowed as she held a single hand raised towards him. "I'd have only broken you a bit if you hadn't said that."
Olenna and every person there stared in abject horror. Because light had begun to change, flickering and changing, bending and weaving about her. Most terrifying were the wisps of pure darkness that seemed to eat the very light before fading to nothing and another strange darkness appearing elsewhere. And beyond that, gold seemed to flicker under her skin as she walked inexorably toward the man. Inhuman, her flesh barely containing whatever it was that lay beneath.
The ground and air alike shivered as the Goddess reached Randal, whose face had turned pale as he desperately tried to breathe despite whatever invisible bonds closed his throat. Her voice was firm with danger and horrifyingly conversational, as it carried without question. "I have never met your Seven, but if they think as you do, you should be very glad of that. I've killed gods before, and I wouldn't hesitate to murder yours."
Her hand landed on his shoulder, his eyes widening as he finally gasped air. "Let me be very clear. I don't care what you humans call me, I don't want your worship, and I don't care if you think I'm an abomination."
Randal looked at the Goddess wide-eyed, seemingly finally realizing what he'd invoked.
"You think I'm a charlatan, a witch." Goddess Quake's hand moved from his shaking shoulder, to cup his neck. "I'm getting sick of being called that. So let's see how your body handles containing just a piece of my power? If I'm a liar you should be fine." Her smile showed too many teeth.
And then Randal screamed.
Olenna's eyes widened, her heartbeat raced in her chest, and her breath was caught in her lungs. She hadn't seen the Goddess reduce the Lannisters to mulch, but she'd seen the after-effects. This…was not what Garlan had described, but even she could see some sign of what was happening to the man.
Blood began to leak from the corners of his eyes, his ears, and nose; his scream surely damaging his throat. But his skin, oh gods, every piece of visible skin was bruising before their eyes.
And then as fast as it'd begun, it ended. The Goddess released him. Like a puppet with its strings cut he collapsed to the ground, whimpering moans of agony still leaving his lips. She lowered herself beside him, one hand patting the top of his head like a misbehaving pet. "One last thing. If you ever even say Sansa Stark's name again I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
She straightened, rising back to her feet. Her gaze turned to Willas. "Sorry, but guest rite or no guest rite, if I see him again I'll kill him." And then she simply walked past the silent, horrified guests, vanishing through the archway and into the castle.
The garden was utterly silent save for the delirious whimpers of agony coming from Randal Yelshire where he lay on the ground.
Jon Stark started forward only to pause. "I've got her."
"Got her, your Highness?" Willas managed, his voice weaker than he usually permitted himself to speak before others. But well, sheer terror does that, Olenna thought somewhat hysterically.
Jon winced. "Her powers are affected by her emotions. She'll avoid everyone till she has control again. And I can help." He looked to his Northern guard. "Seth, check her rooms."
"Your Highness." The guard acknowledged and quickly moved to do as ordered.
And then Jon was quickly following after where the Goddess had last vanished.
Olenna swallowed. Man was either an idiot or possibly the bravest soul she'd ever seen to chase after an angry god to try and calm it. Probably a bit of both. Still, what was done was done and she certainly wasn't going to tempt fate herself. Turning she looked at the sobbing wreck of a man who'd caused all of this. "Remove that idiot from my sight."
Chapter 102Chapter TextJon was going to have to learn to warg just so he could have some fucking birds find Daisy next time instead of having to run up four gods damned towers to find which one she'd gone and hidden on. He was going to feel that tomorrow. So many stairs, mortals weren't supposed to run up and down that many stairs in one afternoon. But, that was Daisy sitting on the stone walkway, her back against the rising tower, looking up at the blue sky.
He sighed, Sansa would know how to fix this. But she wasn't here. So he walked over and dropped down beside her. His lungs thanked him as he did so. "Think you can just fly me up here with you next time?"
Daisy laughed, looking at him then. "Thought you hated flying?"
"I might hate stairs more," Jon replied…and short flights would be less horrible…probably.
She leaned back, staring up at the sky. "I think I've fucked up for us. It was kinda super important I not be super scary like that while Dany was around. Makes her look less impressive. So uh…I'm going to have to find some way to fix that."
"Am I going to need to do anything?" Jon asked, accepting he was probably not going to like whatever needed to be done. And yet, gods he was relieved to have her back.
Daisy hummed frowning. "I'm not sure, I'll need to make sure I didn't start off a religious panic. Probably shouldn't have mentioned being willing to kill their gods."
"Is that something you can do?" He asked carefully, her words of being made to kill gods, not ones he'd forgotten.
She nodded. "Probably. If they are real, and if they're anything like that idiot earlier I'd fight them without thinking about it. And well, I haven't lost yet."
"Let's hope that doesn't happen." He huffed. "I think I've had my fill of gods between you and the trees."
Daisy shifted and then laid her head on his shoulder. "Smartest thing you've ever said."
Jon smiled as he stayed still lest he accidentally give her cause to move. He felt content sitting here. It was nice to get away from the Tyrell court. "So, do I want to know what you did to that man?"
"Channeled my powers through him without controlling it." Her voice was low. "I said I paid the price for my powers and I meant it. He was kind of a wuss about it."
He swallowed at the implication of that. That idiot in agony had once been Daisy suffering due to her powers originally. "You shouldn't have gone through that."
"Yeah well, life happens." She hummed. "Course, I mostly just fucked up my arms. So, might have been mean to channel it through all of him, but he was disgusting."
Jon completely agreed. "I would have stabbed him for what he said if you hadn't stopped him."
"I've become a violent person." A long sigh escaped her lips. "I'm not sure that's a good thing."
He shifted slightly, wrapping his arm around her without dislodging her from his shoulder. "So have I."
They were quiet together for a turn before Daisy spoke. "Do you think it makes us bad people? I don't regret what I've done. Just…Sansa would say I don't regret it because I made a choice that I stand by. That, so long as I believe I did the right thing, there is no point in regretting it. She'd say it a lot nicer. But still…I don't know. Sometimes it feels like maybe…I choose violence too easily."
"I think we're different there." Jon frowned as he tried to put it into words. "I regret nearly every swing I've made with my sword since I first saw battle. But I know this world, our lives, all of them, are better because you are here."
Her eyes flicked up to him from where she was leaning against him. "You're a good man Jon, don't let anyone tell you that you're not."
"Same to you." Jon let his head fall back, his focus on the white clouds in the late afternoon sunlight above them. He was also grateful their feet weren't hanging off the edge this time. He glanced down at her. "Why this tower? I went up several others thinking you'd be up them."
She laughed, pulling away slightly, though not out from under his arm. "It was the first one I saw."
"Well, everyone's probably worried we've been gone so long." He really didn't want to go back down and face the politicking of the south.
Daisy paused, she turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Jon, what did you do?"
"I didn't do anything?" He defended. "Just said I had you cause your powers were affected by your moods. Didn't think you wanted just anyone tracking you down for a bit."
Her body rocked forward with laughter. "Oh, that's a problem."
"Why?" He frowned.
She shook her head slightly. "I suppose we should put on a show of my 'anger' being vented properly so no one thinks I'm still angry later."
"Er…oh…the thing you do with the lights is very impressive looking?" He offered.
Daisy snorted. "It's super cool, right? I'm getting pretty good at it."
"I've noticed." Jon's mouth twitched at that, fucking terrifying to anyone who didn't know her. But her delight at it was nice.
Daisy gestured at the sky. "Come on, I'll explain what I'm doing to make the light change."
Jon settled back against the stonework behind him, looking up. There were far worse ways to spend an afternoon. "You're helping me with my squires tomorrow. I don't know what to do with them."
////
Willas' leg was in agony. Standing on it for as long and as often as he had been was adding up. At least here and now he could sit with it raised. Compresses wrapped on his overheated and swollen flesh. Gritting his teeth, he looked at Maester Lomys. "Randal?"
"Alive, almost certain to survive." Their aging Maester replied, his face pale. "I've never seen anything like it."
Olenna's voice snapped. "Good gods man, what did the Goddess do to him?"
"I…am not entirely sure." Maester Lomys swallowed, his fingers shaking slightly. "I believe the smaller vessels under the skin have been damaged. The blood seems to have ceased flowing and slowed as usual with bruises but…there is no inch of his skin unblemished by it. We have been turning him so the blood does not pool too greatly in any single place."
A cold shiver ran down Willas's spine. "Is that the only damage?"
"That is…it is difficult to tell with the bruising, but from swelling and other signs I believe every bone in his body is to some degree…damaged." Lomys shook his head. "He's running a low fever, but I see no sign of damage to his brain, though whether his mind will recover…I cannot say."
Olenna scoffed. "Who gives a fuck if he survives, have you seen damage like this before?"
"No. It…I find her Holiness's threat to simply let her power touch him…likely. It's different than the remains of the Lannisters who were not utterly destroyed. Whatever she did to Randal was different. Other than that, I cannot say for sure." Lomys swallowed. "I do think she kept her powers from touching his organs. The damage if it had would have been…almost certainly fatal. His survival from blood loss just in the bruising is…far too narrow to be an accident."
Willas hissed a pained breath between his teeth. "Fuck."
"Indeed, my Lord," Lomys replied. He hesitated for a second before speaking. "Might I give you milk of the poppy? You're in pain."
"I will be nothing but clear-headed at this moment." Willas glared before closing his eyes and burying his face in his hands. "My apologies, but no. I will not risk being clouded while an angry goddess is within my halls."
Lomys bowed his head. "Very well, my Lord. But before you sleep, I must insist. Your health is my duty, and you will seriously harm yourself if you insist on continuing this way."
He grit his teeth but nodded. "Leave it in my rooms then, I'll take it before I rest."
"I would prefer you take it before the evening meal, but as you wish." Lomys was concerned, the strain of a man who had been caring for their hurts and injuries since they were but babes. The man had aided in the birth of Willas and all his siblings, and would no doubt do the same for his own children.
Garlan spoke up from where he'd been sitting hunched over and holding a generous cup of wine and staring into it. Which, frankly Willas would be doing the same if he thought Goddess Quake might be considering taking him as a lover. He could hardly judge his brother for his behavior. Certainly not now. "The lights." His voice was slightly hoarse.
"It's not writhing darkness and merely concerning colors now. So there's that small mercy." Olenna took her own long drink of wine. "This is what I get for ignoring the gods."
Willas rubbed at his temples. "We can only hope Jon Stark is not too damaged."
Garlan made a high-pitched whining sound.
"Gods be good, drink up boy. It's not that terrible. It's become more vital than ever to gain whatever favor is possible to be gained." Olenna's bravado rang somewhat false for the first time in Willas's memories.
He shook his head. "Lomys, you've sent word to the Yelshires to come and collect their fool?"
"I have, though…I hesitate to speak it. Perhaps it would be better he not survive the journey back to his home, my Lord." Lomys offered.
Willas shared a look with his grandmother. "Perhaps, I would know the mood of her Holiness, and how lingering his injuries will be. If he's to be crippled in any way, her Holiness may consider that in part the punishment."
"Not a bad choice." Olenna frowned. "Don't wait and see the same as Doran Martell did or you'll damn us all."
He shot her a look. "My sister's murderer won't live out two years if I have my way. Fuck waiting for vengeance longer than necessary. But we will tread with caution while hosting a Targaryen with dragons and a Goddess of Ruin."
Olenna waved her hand, which was near as good as deferment. But then she didn't defer to anyone, not even those she'd trained for this deadly game.
There was a knock on the door.
"Enter." Willas looked up hoping it was someone with good news.
Ser Igon Vyrwel, captain of his guard stepped in. "Ser Marlon Manderly of the Northern delegation would speak with you, my Lord." He bowed his head, his eyes avoiding Willas's leg like just looking upon his Lord's deformity would infect him with it.
"Very well, send him in." Willas bit out, he was in too much pain, and too fearful a mood to ignore his frustration at the moment. He neatly ignored the reproving look from Lomys.
Ser Igon stepped back out, and not a few moments later, Marlon Manderly was stepping in.
Marlon gave a respectful dip of his head. "Lord Tyrell."
"I'd greet you but as you can see I am unable." Willas loathed to admit it, but better this weakness to a minor knight of the Northern party than one who would try to use his weakness against him. Or well, be better able to use it against him.
"Quite alright, my Lord." Marlon straightened, folding his hands in front of himself. "Just wanted to soothe any worries about her Holiness. She's not the sort to take her temper out on anyone who doesn't deserve it. Jon'll have her back down and on an even keel by supper."
Willas barely kept his face from flickering with unease. It burned to admit his failure to allow a man like Randal anywhere near the Goddess, let alone to allow him to speak to her in such a way. "I would offer my sincerest apologies to her Holiness. Are you aware of a manner in which she would prefer such a thing?"
"Just tell her." Marlon sighed. "She's rather straightforward really. Probably why she gets on with us Northerners so well. Doesn't seem to hold grudges much from what I've seen and heard. And Jon'll do fine at getting her back to normal, he's not the one went and pissed her off this time."
Garlan croaked. "He still lives after rousing her temper?"
"Hells, Umber went an' called her a whore witch, 'side from some bruisn', a broke arm and some minor frostbite, he wasn't really harmed. Now I think she's rather fond of him really. Course that one Stormland fucker insulted her Grace and his arm got frozen off. Probably only lived so he could get his head chopped off properly the next morn."
Willas knew his brother and grandmother would have realized the exact same thing. They'd already partially known it, but the Goddess might tolerate some insult to herself, but that did not extend to any who insulted her lover. "How did Lord Umber apologize for his words?"
"I wasn't there, but I heard about it. He uh…offered to hit her with a sword and then dragged her to a tavern to see if he could outdrink her. Seeing as mortal drink doesn't affect her I think she just sorta thought he was amusing?" Marlon winced. "Look, she won't take it too personal."
Willas slowly put that together, a gesture to Jon or Sansa Stark might get them farther than such a thing towards the Goddess herself. Other than a taste for horrifying amounts of sugar, deep love of tea, and an interest in books she was remarkably difficult to please. "Her Grace, Queen Sansa, do you know what offers of gratitude she has made that we might copy to prove our intentions?" It galled him to ask. But well, needs must.
Marlon frowned. "She's different than the old gods. She won't want blood sacrifice or worship. Pretty sure she'd be insulted if you tried. But…if you want her mood to turn more positive…she likes children. Haven't seen it myself but half the kids of Wintertown follow her about apparently. An' everyone knows she's got a soft spot for Prince Rickon and the Lady Lyanna. She helped with that birth at Dragonstone for the servant woman too."
A thing that would explain the baffling report from his cousin Helen who'd taken her Holiness to the town only for the Goddess to ignore all for a rude blind girl. He'd thought it a sign of some boredom, but if it wasn't. If she simply liked children for whatever reason, well. That certainly had options. He had to have a cousin somewhere with a young child he could put in the Goddess's path. See how she responded to it. And if none of his own House were available, there were always servant children.
Really, now that he thought of it, it made a sort of sense. And might reveal quite a bit on how she perceived them all. Her response to insult seeming to be chiding and correcting of behavior rather than blood price. The way she seemed so easily pleased. She thought of them as children. Perhaps not young children, but children all the same. He could use that. "Thank you for your words, Ser Marlon. Truly, we wish to give no insult to Her Holiness, nor your Prince."
"Oh aye, and it would seem we're to work together. Best keep dealing to the point then." Marlon tipped his head.
Willas allowed himself something like a smile. Interesting, only here a day, and already Jon Stark's party were willing to ally with him. Good.
////
Daenerys watched as Tyrion and Varys took their seats in the solar attached to her room. "Your thoughts?"
"A marriage alliance with the North holds a great deal of merit," Tyrion replied from his seat. "Considering the power that Goddess of theirs holds, preventing a war with them should be a chief priority of ours."
Varys folded his hands before him. "If the Prince is sleeping with the Goddess it could make things…messy, however. I would advise caution. We are dealing with forces not seen in the world in many ages."
"I do not believe his Highness would speak of betrothal while visiting another's bed." Missandei put in cautiously.
Jorah Mormont's comforting voice filled the air. His steady presence was one she welcomed back among her entourage. The long years of banishment had weighed on her, even as she would not undo them. But he had returned to her as he had sworn. "I do not know this Northern Prince, but a man's lusts may cloud his judgment."
"If I may, it is not unheard of for the lovers of kings and great lords to be paid, or given to good marriages to remove as much of the dishonor as possible." Varys's soft tones continued. "Some more honorable men of power see it as a responsibility for bedding someone beneath them."
Tyrion scoffed. "Jon Snow, or Stark, isn't fucking that god. He's too honorable. And he certainly wouldn't share a lover with his sister. It's as if none of you knew Ned Stark at all. Starks are stupidly honorable, and stupidly stubborn even when facing their own certain deaths. Besides, you are all rather missing the point. It is a good offer. We can likely take the Vale as well as a consort for your Grace who won't undermine or vie for power from you."
"Olyvar Martell and Willas Tyrell both have made indications they would offer themselves as bridegrooms." Daenerys would have her advisors agree on a course of action before they moved on. Or rather, give them time to speak around it. She frowned, her council was too small, and she would need to add more voices. Certainly Olyvar, she owed him that much after taking his kinslaying family's oaths without consequence for their crimes.
Jorah's face was unhappy, though his calm measure that she had so missed a reassurance in its return. "Now may not be the wisest time to wed. Who you will require to wage war, and who you will require to rule are very different, your Grace."
"I would also advise caution, your Grace," Varys spoke. "Although marriage to a Tyrell or a Martell would serve you poorly. If you are to wed, a Lord of the Stormlands or the Vale may buy you a stronger realm in the end. The North loves their Starks dearly, and Sansa Stark may permit an alliance without marriage if it preserves her brother for her own court."
Tyrion scoffed. "We need that alliance, and we need it now. If we march North to fight dead men, we need an alliance built on something more substantial than a mutual wish to survive."
"The whispers I hear do say the North's army marches further North, and the existence of Wildlings under a Stark banner is compelling." Varys agreed, his head tipped faintly. "But your forces are ill-suited for such a war. You would be sending men of the Reach North, not your Dothraki or Unsullied."
Missandei spoke. "Should not we ask Lord Tyrell's opinion then? As he is to be involved."
"Some good advice at last." Tyrion congratulated Missandei. "You have open council positions, most of them, and they should be filled. Even if those appointments change once peace is achieved. It is an easy way to ensure your allies remain invested in your success."
Varys spoke. "If I may, perhaps if you were to intercede in the matter of her Holiness and the Faith of the Seven?"
"Explain," Daenerys ordered. "House Targaryen has rarely been loved by the Faith."
Varys tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Indeed your Grace. However, your rivals for religious support from the small folk are the mad Queen who blew up the Sept of Baelor along with the High Septon, and a Northern Queen who worships the Old Gods and beds a dark god beside. If there was ever a time to gain the support of the Faith, now would be it."
"An interesting approach." Tyrion agreed, though his eyes narrowed. "How do you propose we do such a thing without getting any septon we invite slaughtered or left like that idiot Yelshire? I hardly think any of us wish to bring divine attention to ourselves, and the Northern god just threatened to slaughter the Seven. Do you see an amicable meeting occurring between such parties?"
Varys hummed. "Prince Jon wishes for an alliance between our two causes, badly. Let him manage their 'god', clearly, he is capable of cooling her temper should things become inflamed. How he manages such a thing hardly matters. What matters is that he can do it. The Tyrells have many fingers in the Citadel and Old Town. A reasonable Septon with the right connections, one who can agree on terms with this 'god', well, such a man with your support could easily be named as the new High Septon. And the support of the Faith is the support of the common man."
"And would give us the time you so advise we take to be cautious in regards to a betrothal to Prince Jon." Daenerys finished for him. She could see the wisdom in it, even if she disliked how much of her conquest had been traveling and then waiting.
Jorah clearly knew her mind on that. "It would not be a long wait. A few days at most to find someone suitable. Highgarden has many septons in and around its lands. And the Tyrells would aid in seeing a man of the Reach named to such a position, your Grace."
"It's risky." Tyrion cautioned. "If a meeting between men of the Faith and this living Goddess goes poorly it could sour the people against you."
Daenerys stared at her advisors, she could see the agreement on their faces. "But it is a thing that must be done. I will not rule long if I let religious fears take root. Already the Faith hold weapons once more in the Crownlands." She let herself consider what she knew of the Faith…there would be many more hours spent in the Tyrell library ahead of her. "In the meantime, is there disagreement that House Tyrell might hold the post of Master of Laws?"