Chapter 109Chapter TextSansa frowned as she looked at the tallies, a lump of dragonglass on the table. "You have permission to take the trees you need to make as many dragonglass arrows as we can. For the labor; how many men do you need?"
"For Winterfell? Four hundred if the next ship makes harbor this moon." Lord Cerwyn frowned at the reports he brought to her. "Four hundred regardless, I can have the men make enough of the arrow and spear shafts, bows, and shields we need in preparation to add the dragonglass even if the ship is delayed."
She lifted the sheet detailing how the dragonglass was being moved to specific keeps for processing. The weapons for the northwest were to be processed in Winterfell. "What could delay the second ship?"
"Depends on the manpower his Highness is able to gather in the south to increase the speed of the mining." Lord Cerwyn snorted. "Or the weather obviously."
Sansa internally groaned. Wonderful, Cerwyn was finding a sense of humor. But he was surprisingly competent at organizing transport. "The issue of Euron Greyjoy's fleet?"
"Our ships make poor targets." He waived off. "And they've been flying whaling colors and gear on deck."
She gave a faint nod, ah, practical and likely highly effective. "Good, our ships are prepared to defend themselves if it comes to it though?"
"Aye, your Grace." He smiled nodding. "Lord Manderly knows what he's doing with your ships."
Sansa didn't disagree, if she double-checked and doubted every action her advisors took she'd never sleep let alone rule. "Why are the arrowheads made to look so different?"
"Well, it's about piercing not ripping." Cerwyn excitedly reached for his case of the first prototypes of dragonglass weapons. Which is to say it was a few knives, spearheads, and arrowheads. "We've been testing which form will hold best. If we can collect and reuse them that would be dead useful." He pulled out one of the arrowheads. "This one-"
The door swung open, Brienne's voice interrupting them. "Hogg to see you, your Grace."
Sansa straightened, turning to face the door as Hogg stepped into the room. She instantly knew something was wrong. He was pale, every muscle tensed, eyes too wide and mouth thin. She'd never seen him like this before. "What's happened?"
"It-" He cut himself off, his eyes flicking to Cerwyn, and then Maester Wolkan. And he certainly had clocked the three members of the guard within earshot. "Her Holiness returned to the tower. If you would come, your Grace?"
Sansa's blood felt like it'd been turned to ice in her veins. Because that was wrong. "Lord Cerwyn, Maester Wolkan, we'll continue this tomorrow. You are dismissed. Ser Loras, with me." She stepped quickly. "Hogg, explain as we walk."
Hogg instantly fell into step with her. His voice was low. "We don't know wha' the problem is, but something isn't right."
"Is she harmed?" Her voice was sharp, but it didn't seem to bother Hogg.
He shook his head. "Not that any of us can tell. Maybe…she's…messy."
Sansa flicked her eyes to him, her strides not slowing. "Messy?" Because it wasn't unusual for a certain level of unpolishedness to be about her wife's appearance. Laces and buttons not tight and/or not done all the way up, after flying her hair was generally a bit of a mess. But there was an artfulness, a purposefulness to it. It was never careless. It was stupidly attractive. The black paint she'd taken to wearing around her eyes since she'd first been to Highgarden certainly lent to the artful feel of her appearance.
"I don't know how else to put it, your Grace." Hogg grimaced. "She gave a test? I think we failed?" The radiating guilt mixed with his panic suddenly made a great deal of sense…his words on the other hand did not.
Sansa was grateful she walked quickly and with purpose. "Test?"
"Asked Robb ta jump." Hogg's distress was ever more clear with every word that slipped into slang and the hard accent he tried so hard to avoid when speaking since he'd been given command. "Then just…weird things. Somethin' was wrong like she were panicked almost?"
Which was out of character. Daisy might act like a wet cat on occasion, but panicked? She took action, she didn't panic. And to hear otherwise was alarming.
Sansa breathed the cold air in and forced her nerves to settle. Whatever was wrong it was still Daisy. She felt her spine set as she swept into the tower, and then up the stairs. It was clear the whole Order was confused and alarmed. Whatever was wrong was significant, and Sansa…nothing that she could possibly imagine having been wrong would prompt Daisy to order some Order men to jump a few times. She was alarmed and confused as she walked to the door to Daisy's chambers in the tower.
It struck Sansa that she hadn't actually been to Daisy's chambers in months as she rapped her knuckles on the door and then opened it. There was no point in announcing herself, Daisy would have known it was her long before she reached the door. So she didn't bother, merely entering and letting the door shut behind her.
Hogg…hadn't been lying. If anything, he'd understated how out of sorts Daisy was. She was pacing, her hair was mussed from having run her fingers through it, not just flight. The aketon or fashionably cut gambeson she had on was askew, the section of fabric that stretched across the front before fastening down the right side was unfastened, her linen shirt showed at the neck and beneath the aketon itself as it half hung on her. The shirt had certainly been slept in. Her face was clean of any brushed color. Her boots were from two different sets of shoes and as if it wasn't obvious from the vibration in the air, her distress was blatantly painted across her face.
"Daisy." Any thought of asking what was wrong fled her head. Sansa was to Daisy in four steps, one hand landing on Daisy's bicep, halting her pacing. "What happened? Are you hurt? Jon?"
Daisy shook her head but leaned into the touch. "Jon's fine. Sorry, it's fine. It's all fine."
"Daisy, what happened?" Sansa asked again.
This time Daisy flinched back away from her touch. She ran a hand through her hair. "I fucked up. I didn't realize how just…I should have noticed."
"Noticed what?" Sansa was considering calling for some tea and probably food. She was suddenly incredibly doubtful Daisy had eaten recently and she was as close to hysterical as she'd ever seen her. Maybe if she ate she'd stop panicking?
Daisy twitched. "If I told any man out there to jump off the highest tower of Winterfell they'd be doing it before I could even finish telling them to." She waived at the wall.
"They worship you," Sansa said slowly, that was…of course, they'd do as they were told?
She shook her head. "It wouldn't occur to them to say no, to ask why to do…anything. I could tell them to do anything, and they would do it."
"I don't understand, your followers know they can leave your service if they wish." Sansa knew whatever had happened it was bad. Had she meant something in jest and some idiot had killed someone or themself?
Daisy's shoulders were tight. "They don't object. They've never told me 'no' Sansa. Not once. And I didn't put it together."
"Put what together?" Sansa would have reached out again, but Daisy was faintly vibrating physically, not just the air. It was clear she didn't want to be soothed or likely even touched.
And Daisy's voice was thick. "Leonette and Garlan, they thought I was going to rape them."
Her eyes widened in stupefied confusion. "What?" She wasn't even expressing a question so much as her mind simply went blank.
"Or well, they thought I was going to rape one of them? Maybe both. But then I pulled Leonette aside and they both thought I was going to rape her. And Garlan just watched. He thought I was going to rape his wife and he just watched! And Leonette? She was going to let me!"
Sansa held up a hand, halting the words coming out of her wife's mouth. "How did they come to that conclusion?"
"I don't know!" Daisy closed her eyes, seeming to force herself to settle, breathing out. "After the Lannister army, the Tyrells were reverent, really reverent. And then they were, like trying to bribe me or appease me, or whatever. Which, side note, they are stupid rich. Anyways, like, whatever, so they figured out I like tea and sweet stuff. You'd be proud, I managed to not fuck up letting a servant help get me dressed and everything thanks to seeing you with Sera. The library there is really huge too. I'm turning into a nerd, your world did this to me. But it was fine."
She stepped to Daisy's bed and sat down, just listening to the rather jumbled words. Though she found herself quietly amused by how confused the Tyrells had to have been with Daisy's general lack of interest in the appropriate level of finery and such. It would seem none of them had asked her what she'd wanted. As baffling as it had been to hear at the time, it had certainly saved Sansa the rising level of panic Daisy was beginning to describe. Northern bluntness had its moments.
"Then the flirting started. Which, not that weird. I know I'm hot, and the whole power thing, and it was mostly kinda funny. But it was just so constant." Daisy waved a hand. "And you can only have someone giggle over you while batting their eyes, or try and keep their muscles flexed while batting their eyes so long before it's just boring. But there's not really a nice way to say 'fuck off' when it's a whole pack of people and not just like one person."
Sansa nodded, she remembered as a girl the way things had worked in the Red Keep. It didn't stop the warm affection she felt that Daisy was describing people throwing themselves at her as if their utter failure to entice her was a foregone conclusion.
"It helped to have Jon to shove at them, and then, well sometimes it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't flirting. And Garlan and Leonette are nice, married, and it was easy to talk to them. Them and Missandei were just nice to be around. Which, you'd like Missandei, nerves of steel. Which, fuck! I'm going to have to talk to her and make sure I didn't fuck that up too." Daisy looked genuinely pained.
"Garlan and Leonette Tyrell?" Sansa prompted before Daisy could spiral to the topic of, who if her memory severed was, Daenerys' translator.
Daisy nodded. "I knew they were nervous around me, but everyone is jumpy around me. It's just…I exploded an army for fucks sake. If I avoided everyone who was jumpy around me I'd be left with you Starks, the Umbers and some of the Dothraki. So I just ignored it, what else am I going to do? And if I act like nothing's wrong then eventually they'll get the idea I'm not going to hurt them."
Sansa sighed, "They thought you were indicating interest when you continually sought them out and no doubt ignored general rules of behavior then?"
"Yes and then, you know I can feel fetal heartbeats?" Daisy checked.
She gave a nod. "A babe in the womb, yes."
"But it's not…it's kinda hard to tell apart from like gas or just any sort of bubbling in the intestines. So I wasn't sure ya know? And my powers aren't controlled by my eyes or hands or whatever, but I had eyes and hands first so it's just easier. So I think I must have been looking at her more than usual? But once I was sure she was pregnant I pulled her aside to tell her. Like that's the kind of thing you're supposed to tell a person on their own. And they thought…they all thought…"
Sansa sighed, reaching out and catching Daisy's hands, gently pulling Daisy to her. "They thought you meant to bed her."
"When she realized what I actually was saying she just…she cried." Daisy's voice was faintly hoarse. "She thought I was going to rape her. Garlan thought I was going to rape his wife and he wasn't going to do a thing to stop it. The way they fear me is different from how people feared me in my world. I don't…how..." And Daisy grimaced as she dropped to her knees, pressing her head against Sansa's stomach.
She ran one hand over Daisy's back, her other hand cradling around the back of Daisy's head. "You didn't hurt her."
Daisy softened, some of the tension leaking out of her. "I can't terrorize people like that."
Sansa wished she could say that was even possible, but it wasn't. Her wife was a god. That kind of power so rarely came with a good heart. "If you are blunter it will help you avoid misunderstandings like this."
And Daisy clearly understood what she hadn't said, that people would always fear her in part. She didn't reply, just staying where she was.
Sansa hummed, scratching gently at Daisy's scalp. "You can't make them not feel fear. You can only be a better person than they believe you to be."
"I hate it." Daisy groaned. "Why would they think I could do that? Would want that?"
Sansa brushed Daisy's hair away to see her wife's face. "Because you hold power, and those with power take what they want."
Daisy grimaced. "I'm not a god, I shouldn't have this level of power. Not like this."
"But you have it." Sansa didn't soften that. She was…unsure of why this was upsetting Daisy so much, it was…nothing. Nothing had happened. No one had been hurt.
Daisy sighed, pushing back till she was on her heels looking up at her. "They're acting like I own them. The Order acts like I own them. That's not… it's not right."
"The Tyrells are in your debt," Sansa spoke slowly. "They are in Daenerys' debt. And they are about to pay their debt to Daenerys by putting every piece of gold, every man capable of holding a sword, every piece of their power and influence at her back. They will spend generations paying for their lives with absolute loyalty."
Daisy ran a hand through her hair."I set the price."
"Not one they paid." It was so…obvious to Sansa that she wasn't entirely sure how to explain it.
Daisy was on her feet again then. "Sansa, how far would I have to go for someone to say 'no'?"
"It's not that simple and you know it," Sansa replied.
Which, Daisy nodded at that. "It's…this feels different Sansa. This kind of power it's not…fuck."
"Eloquent." She said dryly. "Why now? What about this is so terrible? No one was harmed. I'm sure you've done something ridiculous like apologize. So why this, why now?"
Daisy…rather slumped. She stepped over and sat down beside her on the foot of the bed. Her voice was thick. "Because I didn't know. I terrorized two people for weeks, and I like them."
"Oh." Sansa reached out, taking one of Daisy's hands, threading their fingers together.
She looked at her and Daisy just looked exhausted. "What would have happened if we weren't together? I could have raped her, or Garlan, or just someone, and not known till god knows how long after."
"You keep saying rape, but someone as clearly opposed to the idea as Leonette wouldn't have managed to hide that. You would have realized that and we both know you wouldn't have insisted. But I'm more surprised she was that distressed by the prospect than anything else." Really, Sansa wasn't even being biased in the matter.
Daisy stilled. "What do you mean?"
"You're not serious?" Sansa huffed.
But Daisy didn't laugh or show any humor. "Sansa."
She blinked. "You're powerful, generous, gentle, and gorgeous. Do you know how rare it is for those things to all be true of a person? Even if someone wasn't in love with you, or even particularly inclined towards you it would hardly be a burden."
Daisy went pale, her hand going faintly slack in Sansa's. "I…that doesn't make it better."
"Of course it does?" Sansa knew there was a sound like repressed laughter in her voice. Because of course, it made a difference. "We all have duties, having them be tolerable or even pleasant makes a world of difference."
With a faint jerk, Daisy pulled back, her hand leaving Sansa's, the entire room faintly shook for a fraction of a second.
"What's wrong?" Sansa felt a swooping sensation in her stomach. She'd never seen Daisy like this. It was alarming.
Daisy wet her lips as she hesitated. "Duty…Sansa, have you ever let me touch you when you didn't want me to?"
Oh.
Sansa's mouth opened slightly but no sound left her throat.
A high-pitched whine came from the back of Daisy's throat. And then she lunged for the side of the bed grabbing the untouched chamber pot and wretched.
"Daisy!" Sansa was instantly at her side, pulling her hair out of the way, not that it was really needed. "No, Daisy no."
Sansa rubbed circles into Daisy's back, and for fucks sake they were on the floor, again. She pressed her forehead between Daisy's shoulder blades. "No, never. Do you hear me? Never. I chose you." She pulled Daisy back as her heaving ceased, till they were sitting together, rather tangled on the floor. Sansa passed a handkerchief to her idiot, far too sweet, wife.
Daisy took the handkerchief wiping her mouth. Her eyes were cast down. "I-"
"No." Sansa cut her off firmly. She reached out and caught Daisy's face between her hands, gently tilting her head up, so that she was looking at her. "You will not make one of the most wonderful things in my life into something ugly. Do you understand?"
And oh gods, Daisy looked about ready to cry, her eyes shimmery with unformed tears.
Sansa gently pressed their foreheads together. She could feel the defeat in her wife. Her nose also wrinkled slightly at the smell of vomit. Fine, she was fixing this ridiculousness. Because it was ridiculous, but that didn't mean it wasn't real or painful. She pulled back. "Come on, you are going to get up and you're going to rinse your mouth out."
"Ok." Daisy agreed softly. She climbed onto her feet, automatically offering out a hand to Sansa as she did so.
Which, honestly, even miserable she was polite. Sansa accepted the hand up. She laid a hand on Daisy's shoulder. "Go rinse your mouth out." She sighed as Daisy did step to the sideboard to do so. Right. Sansa picked up the chamberpot and opened the door. "Loras."
Several steps away, Loras turned from where he'd been at his post while giving all the privacy possible. He stepped forward. "Your Grace?"
"Get rid of this." She passed the chamber pot to him. "And make my excuses, at least until the evening meal."
Loras paused as he accepted the bowl of sick, with a wrinkled nose. "What should I say?"
"Something complicated came up with negotiations in the south that her Holiness was unsure of how to navigate due to not being from our world." Which hopefully was vague enough while being unalarming.
He glanced at the chamber pot. "And this?"
"Your morning meal didn't agree with you." There was no way to make the queen or their god retching not sound alarming. Of course, some members of the court would know something was being hidden, but they'd settle when nothing came of it.
Loras grimaced but gave a nod, and turned to go hunt down an Order member likely to help so he didn't have to leave his post.
Sansa closed the door and turned to face her wife who still looked miserably defeated, eyes cast to the floor. Wonderful, if she was ever forced south for some gods forsaken reason she was going to strangle Lady Olenna. Because even from here she could sense the woman's fingerprints in pressuring her own family enough that Leonette would have an actual breakdown. Sansa wasn't feeling like being fair about it. She also was fairly sure defeat was the only reason Daisy was still in the room.
Which was all just ridiculous. But if Daisy wanted to be obtuse enough to make an Umber look brilliant, then fine. She'd explain it. "On the bed, I don't think your floor can take any more pacing."
Also, they were going to have a serious conversation without sitting on the floor. She sat on the side of the bed and looked at Daisy pointedly. It took a second, but Daisy did finally shuffle over and climb onto the bed, hesitantly. Her legs pulled up off the floor, as she sat facing her, if not looking at her.
Sansa carefully pulled them down so that they were laying, facing each other.
"Sorry for…just..." Daisy trailed off.
She pulled Daisy closer. "No, listen to me, you have never harmed me."
Daisy swallowed thickly, before speaking slowly. "Do you think you owe me anything? It's not a duty. Why would you call it-" She choked slightly.
Sansa breathed out, gathering her thoughts. And Daisy seemed stuck on things that didn't matter. "It was not long after we returned to Winterfell, after Barrowtown that I first wanted you. It scared me." She made sure to keep a hold of Daisy. "Not of you, but of just all of the rest of it. I was never going to do anything about it."
Which, her words seemed to be trickling into Daisy's head. Her eyes closed, her breathing shaky.
"It was safer to do nothing, besides, you never gave cause for me to think my feelings were returned. But I could have your friendship and companionship, and I thought I was content with that. And then you just kept being lovely." She ran her fingers through Daisy's hair, her nails scratching at Daisy's scalp as she moved some of Daisy's hair out of her face. "You made it rather difficult to not act. And if you'll remember I kissed you with no warning."
Daisy had actually opened her eyes, watching her carefully as she spoke.
"Do you remember the night after Jon left for White Harbor? You hadn't been to my rooms since the day before when we'd first laid together." Sansa asked.
"Yeah, I remember." One of Daisy's hands finally reached out, her fingers touching the thick fabric of Sansa's gown. "You hadn't eaten."
Sansa involuntarily smiled at the reminder of that detail. "You carried me to bed. And how many times have you stopped to help me breathe because I started to panic while we were intimate?"
"Don't you dare apologize for that." Daisy's eyes snapped up to meet Sansa's for the first time since this whole mess of a conversation had begun.
She held her wife's eyes. "Then don't tell me that what we have is ugly." She rolled her eyes. "For gods sake Daisy, I married you. Not for politics. It's the dumbest thing we could have done politically. I love you."
Daisy blinked rapidly, and then she was crying as she ducked forward, pressing her forehead against Sansa's sternum, her shoulders shaking. Her words came out between choked sobs. "I'm sorry. So sorry. But if I'd…hurt you."
She wrapped her arms around her wife as she sobbed. And it hurt, to hear and see her like this. But as Sansa closed her eyes, just holding Daisy to her, she felt an incredible swell of gratitude. Gratitude that someone like Daisy could even exist, that she was hers. "You've never hurt me, I promise. I wouldn't be here if you had. I wouldn't have married you." Sansa burned with the truth of it, of what Daisy meant to her.
Chapter 110Notes:Sup!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextDaisy was wrung out. Her eyes were closed, the sweet smell of the pine soap used with Sansa's clothing comforting as she lay curled into Sansa. She'd cried herself out of sheer relief some time ago. But the idea of moving just made her press ever so closer. She wasn't ready to move if she didn't have to. Instead, her fingers tightened ever so slightly before loosening where they were buried in the thick fabric of Sansa's gown. She hummed in contentment at the feeling of Sansa's fingers trailing through her hair. She felt rather like putty.
The howls of wolves could faintly be heard. Sansa's voice was quiet. "The party from Eastwatch by the Sea must be arriving."
"Do you need to greet them?" Daisy forced herself to begin to pull back.
Sansa's arms tightened. "They can present themselves to me before the court tonight."
She shifted enough that she could look up at Sansa's face. "You're sure?"
"I'm a queen." Sansa's brow arched a smugly playful expression flitting across her face. "My Lords can survive a day without my presence."
If she hadn't puked recently, Daisy would have kissed her for that. Because Sansa might be beholden to her kingdom, but still placed her family above that. And…they were family. Daisy pressed back into Sansa. It was pathetic, but if she hadn't already sobbed herself out she'd have probably cried again. She felt stupid for it. But the terror at possibly having harmed Sansa, her wife, had been too viscerally repugnant to ignore.
Because Daisy didn't know if she'd have been able to live with herself if the best thing in her life had involved harming the woman she loved. It was anathema to her. Her bones creaked at the wrongness of it. But here, able to feel Sansa's calm and familiar vibration, her familiar scent, and the physical warmth of her it felt real that she was safe. The relief was euphoric really. And she did feel stupid at the reminder that Sansa was the one who'd jumped her. For fucks sake they were married. But it just…she'd had to know. Really know.
Sansa spoke softly. "So, you think I'll be impressed by Daenerys' translator?"
"Yeah, Missandei is kinda badass." Daisy's lips twitched up, though her eyes flicked closed. "She's in love with the general of the Unsullied forces, Grey Worm. But her languages, she knows dozens of them. It's impressive as hell. No idea how she keeps it all straight."
Her wife's fingers went back to carding through her hair. A thing Sansa had started doing ever since Daisy had had to cut her hair cause the dragon issue. It was…really nice. "She's a former slave, yes?"
"Hmm." Daisy was exhausted, it was still early and she honestly just wanted to sleep like this. "She wears pants too, and Daenerys actually. I think it's a dragon riding practical thing."
Sansa no doubt was quietly planning political clothing thoughts. "The south certainly sounds quite exciting."
"I wish you were with us." Daisy was going to tell someone to fuck off if she spent a whole week away from Winterfell again. "Oh, you'd laugh, Olyvar Martell has been flirting with Jon. He's just being a dick about it because he thinks Jon's flustered confusion is hilarious. But he wants in with Jon when Jon is Prince Consort or whatever his title ends up being."
There was a soft sound of understanding as a faint tremble of repressed laughter shook Sansa. "Jon hasn't climbed out a window yet?"
"No, Helen Tyrell's been helping him. I think she's taken it as a bit of a project." Daisy smiled, the woman's sheer frustration every time she saw Jon wearing his northern clothing instead of the finer things the Tyrells had provided for him coming to mind. "Jon's been glad to be back in Northern leathers since the baggage train from Dragonstone showed up."
Sansa scratched at her scalp. "The Tyrells wanted me to marry Loras back in King's Landing. It was a pretty dream while it lasted."
Daisy knew that but, she actually considered how Sansa said it. "Did you like him?"
"I liked the idea of him. Of being able to escape the Lannisters, of being safe in Highgarden, and he'd have been my knight to rescue me and I'd have had Margaery for a good sister." Sansa's voice had a faint hint of disdain to it. "And he looked so perfect. My knight on a white horse, charming and perfect. It was stupid."
She pushed up so that she could look down at her wife. "I don't think that sounds stupid at all."
Sansa smiled softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she slid her hand out of Daisy's hair, to instead cup her cheek. "There you are."
"You…" Daisy felt her face flush, she slumped, burying her face in Sansa's shoulder with a groan. "That's not fair."
Light laughter filled the room. "I think it's perfectly fair." Sansa propped herself up slightly, arm bent to hold her head up.
She looked up at her wife and just felt safe. "You're beautiful, ya know that?"
"Why, are you attempting to seduce me?" Sansa's eyes were bright and happy.
Daisy caught a lock of red hair, between her fingers. "Nope."
"No?" Sansa's hand slid into Daisy's hair again, only this time she tightened her hand, pulling at it slightly.
Daisy let out a hiss, "Sansa," even as she somehow melted further into the mattress beneath them.
"That is my name." And Sansa was far too pleased by the reaction she was getting.
Daisy knew she could match Sansa's teasing. Normally she probably would. But not today. Her voice was quiet. "What do you want?" Because she'd stay like this as long as Sansa could afford to let them. But if Sansa wanted more…. It was stupid, but she needed to hear it.
Sansa stared at her and then half rolled, half climbed, so that she was hovering over Daisy. "What do I want?" Her hand trailed out of Daisy's hair, and then down her front, neatly loosening the ties of her gambeson, and then pulling it open. "I want a lot of things. I want an endless winter to not be threatening my kingdom. I want my lords to stop their bickering and be sensible for once in their stubborn lives." She leaned, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Daisy's throat as she pulled the collar down.
Sansa was certainly sucking a series of hickies into Daisy's neck. A hand palmed Daisy's breast, as her teeth pressed against her. It was so much. The smell and warmth of her, the weight of Sansa against her. It was grounding in the most delicious of ways. Present and real with a burning intensity.
Pulling her mouth ever so slightly away from Daisy's neck, Sansa kept speaking in that stupid clear, and certain voice that so easily commanded men. "I want Lord Baelish's head on a pike." Her teeth scraped against Daisy's flesh, as her hand settled with purpose and began to unlace her pants. "I want to not have three disputes between the Northerns and the Free Folk to settle near every day."
Daisy felt a shiver go down her spine, her breathing turning quicker.
"I want those fire-breathing lizards to stop being a threat on my border. I want to never have a legend turn into something real and dangerous I have to address again." Sansa shifted her weight back so that she could use both hands to pull Daisy's pants down.
And fuck. Daisy lifted her hips, helping her wife get the things down her legs and get tossed somewhere. She reached for Sansa, only for her hand to be batted lightly to the side. And shit, Sansa's eyes were practically black as she looked down on her.
"I want my wife in our rooms every morning and every night. Not flying down to deal with fucking Tyrells." Sansa shoved Daisy's shirt up, not bothering with even attempting to get it or the gambeson over her arms. Her mouth just settled above the scarring from when she'd been shot years ago in the stomach, and then she sucked sharply.
Daisy's head fell back with a sharp breath. Oh, fuck. She was not prepared for whatever this was. A hiss passed her lips at the feel of Sansa's tongue running along her abs.
Sansa's voice was rough as she pulled her lips away from Daisy's skin. "I want Jon home in the North where he belongs." She sucked just above Daisy's hip, and shit teeth, as one of her hands opened Daisy's legs purposefully. Her grip was firm. "I want the Iron Throne melted into scrap chucked into the ocean and lost for all time."
"Sansa!" Daisy's hips bucked, her hands twisting in bedding as Sansa's fingers slipped through her wetness. It was almost embarrassing how quickly Sansa had gotten her into this state.
"But right now, what I want more than anything else is to hear my wife, scream my name." And then Sansa's tongue was replacing her fingers.
Daisy gasped, head snapping back.
////
Jon opened up a book and smiled. Turning he looked towards where Daenerys was reading yet another, dry history tomb. "I think I found something."
"Another text on Maegor?" Daenerys' voice was wry as she looked up from her reading.
He chuckled. "Nay, I believe it's a book of children's stories for your House's children." He walked from where he'd been looking through the shelves of texts towards his possible betrothed, offering out the slim text. "It's in Valaryian but a lot of pictures?"
"I might steal their servant who manages this library to see to the texts in the Red Keep when the time comes." Daenerys set the thick tomb she'd been reading aside, and accepted the much smaller book. Her face lit up as she read the title, clearly understanding what it was instead of having to guess as Jon had.
Jon cast his gaze on the library of Highgarden. It was a stunning display of wealth and power. So many books. It dwarfed the collection in Winterfell and he'd always thought the library there magnificent. "Daisy'd be more help with this."
"Most likely," Daenerys replied, a smile still on her lips as she flipped through the narrow text in her hands. "Where is she? I don't believe I've seen her yet today and I know Tyrion was hoping for a word with her."
He winced. "Winterfell most likely."
"Really?" Daenerys looked up at him in surprise.
Jon wasn't entirely sure of why Daisy had been on edge ever since Leonette had cried on her yesterday, but she had been. Also, Seth had reported she'd gone towards the gods' wood after choking down something to eat. And she wasn't in the gods' wood now. So probably Winterfell. His sister could probably fix whatever the issue was? He really didn't want to think about that, however. "Where else would she go?"
"She truly loves your sister, doesn't she?" Daenerys closed the slim book he'd found and set it aside. "I remember how that felt."
His nose scrunched slightly. "She's my sister."
Daenerys laughed at his discomfort. "Oh, do you not approve of your sister having a lover?"
"I do, approve that is…if it even matters what I think." He shifted uncomfortably. "I just worry."
She looked at him curiously. "You are a good brother." Leaning against the table behind her, her attention remained on him. "Tell me, have you ever been in love, Jon Stark?"
"Once." He knew in some ways he owed her this truth. After all from the whispers of the court, he knew of her husband and of her lover, she'd left in Meereen. "Her name was Ygritte, she was one of the Free Folk from beyond the Wall."
Daenerys' head tilted slightly. "What happened to her?"
"She died attacking Castle Black." He knew he was being short but he didn't…he didn't want to talk about the rest of it. It was one thing with Daisy, but it was another with someone who didn't understand. Mayhaps Daenerys did, but even then…he was only beginning to know her.
She gave a faint nod. "I'm sorry for your loss." Her right arm lifted across herself, holding to her other arm. "Drogo was taken from me by a scratch."
"He must have been something for you to still speak of having loved him." Jon didn't say he thought she was likely lucky her husband was not here now. That the Westerosi Lords would not have taken a Queen with a foreign husband. Or at least, he didn't think they would have.
Daenerys stepped away from the table. "Do we ever forget?"
He dipped his head. "No, I doubt we do." Jon frowned slightly as he realized she was leaving the library. "You don't intend to read longer?"
"I will be an old woman before I have learned all that I should have been taught, and war waits for no one." She replied as she walked.
Jon didn't disagree, instead, he lengthened his stride to catch her, before falling into step beside her. "If I may accompany you?"
"You may, for now." She allowed as she led them down the halls, her guards not far behind them.
As they reached a corner Varys seemed to half melt out of one of the attached passageways. His head lowered. "Your Grace, your Highness."
"Lord Varys, you bring news?" Daenerys came to a halt.
He straightened. "Some things of note, however, they can wait. I wished to speak with both of you on a matter of some importance, I believe, your Grace."
"Speak," Daenerys commanded.
He folded his hands before his stomach. "If a marriage between your two persons is agreed upon, there is the matter of the dragons."
Jon had a bad feeling about what the effeminate man was about to say.
/////
Rickon perked up as he spotted his sister leaving the tower. He'd been stalking it ever since she went in. He grinned as he spotted Daisy. Hopping off the sawhorse he'd been sitting on, he took off at a light jog, Shaggydog on his heels. As he got nearly to them, he half lunged, half jumped for her. "Daisy!"
She laughed, catching him easily like he was nothing but a small child and not nearly grown. Her voice warmed, as she hugged him back. "Hey, kid."
"You didn't come see me last time you were here!" He tightened his hold, breathing in, as he hugged her. For a second he slipped into Shaggydog who was curling around them, and yup, she smelled like Sansa, exactly as she should.
Daisy ruffled his hair. "I seem to remember spending a lot of time with you last time."
"Nuh, uh." He pulled back, though he kept an arm thrown over her shoulder. "I smelled you in Sansa's room yesterday." Rickon grinned at the startled expression on her face. "You can't lie to me."
She shook her head, but she was smiling. "Guess I can't. How're the hawks?"
"Lord Royce is taking Lyanna and me hawking again tomorrow!" He glared, she was distracting him. "How long are you staying? You could come with us!"
Daisy paused, hesitation on her face. "I…
"Till tomorrow evening." Sansa cut in, her gaze meeting Daisy's. "After all Jon can spare you that long."
A soft smile filled Daisy's face, her shoulder softening under his arm. "Yeah, yeah he can spare me that long."
Rickon beamed, hugging her again. He didn't like the pack being scattered. "Jon's good?"
"He's good." Daisy laughed. "Misses you so much."
He puffed up. "You've told him I'm getting better at using a sword?"
"Of course." Daisy released him so that she could scratch at Shaggydog and greet him as well.
Rickon glanced at his sister and paused. He quickly moved to hug her as well. He sighed into her shoulder. She gave the best hugs.
Sansa whispered into his ear. "Stick to Daisy."
"Got it." He gave his sister a last squeeze before hopping back. "Daisy! You've got to come see the new shoulder guard Lyarra made me for hawking!"
Sansa spoke. "You should, I'll see you at dinner?" She stepped forward, catching Daisy's cheek and kissing her chastely before pulling back.
Rickon snorted at the looks of shock across everyone in the courtyard. He just hooked Daisy's arm as soon as Sansa released her and started hauling her towards where he'd last seen Lyanna and Lyara arguing over appropriate armor for a woman.
////
Petyr Baelish watched from the window as the young prince dragged off his sister's lover. He was impressed. For all some degree of true emotion was clearly involved for Sansa, she had certainly done a masterful job at seducing and securing the attention of the god. It was one of the most daring, and profitable uses any man could have dreamed of for her body. While he'd certainly have pushed her to it if it'd been needed, he was impressed she'd recognized the necessity and done it on her own.
When the time came, the long wait to take what he wanted would have been worth it. He would marry her. And when he did the world would be his. And when he fucked her, he would put a babe in her belly and Westeros would belong to his sons and their sons. A legacy greater than any. Power, legacy, the world. It would be his. A name written in the annals of history in blood.
Still, there was work left to be done before his prize would be his. If he'd wanted her in his bed, he could have taken Sansa in the Vale. Men who thought only with their cocks were fools. Besides, what was the true value of a girl's maidenhead in the great scheme of things? Broken in rough, and then trained up had its own benefits. And their marriage would solidify kingdoms now. Or it would once the god left to wherever it was she came from.
He slid the letter he'd been expecting into the lining of his coat's breast. Yes, things were moving exactly as he wished them. With this, he was well on his way to establishing himself as the obvious and only choice as consort to their conquering Queen. It was so very convenient that the god was a woman. He fastened up his coat and turned to leave his chambers. Well, if the Queen was done servicing the god, there were things to attend to. Now, to seek out Lord Royce, the blithering fool, or the Queen first?
It was an obvious answer, after all, Lord Royce was much closer and the Queen had an entire day's schedule to adjust. With that in mind, he swept through the halls provided for the Vale Lords of the highest rank. He rapped his knuckles on the door to Lord Royce's solar. At the muffled 'enter', he strode into the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes immediately spotted and then dismissed Lord Redfort. "Lord Royce, I was hoping to have a brief word with you before her Grace calls an open court."
"Ah, Lord Baelish, what is it you wished to speak of?" Lord Royce straightened as if he had any right to look down upon him. Even Lord Redfort barely reacted at his arrival.
His face melted into a congenial mask of a competent advisor despite being the Protector of the Vale, and that his word should have been law to these fools. "About our efforts to ensure as many betrothals between our own Houses and those of the North. Perhaps some focus on the Riverlands as well might be in order?"
"I fail to see why this insistence? It will harm our own interests when we are forced to bend the knee to the Targaryen girl." Lord Redfort scoffed. "My younger son'll have a better future married in the North, but I would not have agreed to bind my House North if that hadn't been the case."
Baelish stared at the moron of a man. "Daenerys Targaryen is a conqueror, once she's secured the realm, surely her eye will be turned back to Essos. Would you trust our lands to a Queen none of us know and will likely leave us as suddenly as she's arrived, or would you ensure that at the least a proven Queen will be there to protect and support our interests? A Queen who is cousin to our own Lord Arryn, no less?"
"You believe the Targaryen will fall?" Lord Royce said sharply, a hint of outrage in his voice already. "You would make us oathbreakers before we even bend the knee?"
If he were an honest man, he'd have said 'yes' instantly. He wasn't an honest man. "Certainly not, but she does lack an heir, and we all know the dangers of the birthing bed." He kept his tone conciliatory. "Should she fall without an heir, or in an attempt of birthing one, I would see the Vale secure, as is my duty till young Lord Arryn is of age." Baelish tipped his head. "If the worst should happen we will be secure should that terrible day occur, if we already have bonds to the Winter Kingdom. If Daenerys Targaryen and Prince Jon produce heirs, we will merely have furthered the alliance between our two kingdoms. Hardly a terrible thing, I should think?"
"It is doubtful war would break out with a Stark on both thrones." Lord Royce agreed, his face turning thoughtful. "A shame we cannot hope for her Grace to accept us into her kingdom without risking humanity perishing against the Dead."
Baelish quite agreed with the man for once. "Indeed, but we will see to our oaths to fight through this Long Night."
"Which alliances strike you as for the best then, Lord Baelish?" Lord Royce asked, ignoring the unhappy grumbling from Lord Redfort.
He smiled with projected sincerity. "Houses Piper and Wode will be desperate for support I should think-" And he outlined his proposal of solidifying ties between the Vale, Riverlands, and the North. All alliances with strings tying them to him of course. The future was bright, and he'd have his crown and his Tully beauty to wife.
Notes:Not a rant or anything, but I would like to point out Sansa is not a 'feminist' or even particularly 'progressive' in her policy or world view. She doesn't want to empower women because its the right thing to do, she wants to do it because her entire social/political system is incredibly weak right now and about to be further weakened by the inevitable death of a ton more of nobility. Without feudal political bloodlines supporting the throne, the stability of the realm and of her family is threatened. Letting women inherit is a way to mitigate that damage. Its about upholding feudalism, not empowering women. And its not a wild idea, its been the established political system of Dorne for centuries. Its not like its unprecedented or anything.
Then her promoting women to various positions in her court, the only three women in positions that are not 100% typically held by women in a medieval court are Lady Dustin, Arya, and Brienne. Brienne and Arya are 100% because she trusts them and values their skills. And Lady Dustin is an incredibly powerful political piece because of her ties to House Dustin and Ryswell and has decades of experience ruling one of the largest regions in the North. Sansa's just being practical and making use of people. Not in a bad way or anything, just she's very willing to be very utilitarian about it because she feels her feudal duty to rulership very deeply.
And you can see that echoed in the fact she sees sex exactly how a medieval woman would. A fairly conservative noble woman at that. She does not get why Daisy got from point A to point B. She knows its painful for Daisy, and she gets what Daisy is afraid of, but she doesn't understand how Daisy got there. And Sansa would completely consider sex as a part of just the expected role of her position. The only reason she, or anyone else for that matter, considers what Ramsey did to her rape was the violence of it.
But yeah, just wanted to point out Sansa is very feudal and loyal to that system. Any variances from that are driven by practicality, politics, logistics, or trauma. She's very much a person of her world, she's just as empathetic as her life has allowed her to be, and very strictly dutiful to concepts of justice and service and what a feudal ruler should be to their people. She's keenly aware of the exchange that happens for rulers. The people follow, because the ruler serves and protects them. Sansa is very much Ned Stark's daughter.
Chapter 111Notes:Hope you're all doing well, my dog is gleeful at the fact firework season has come to an end. The doggo has been happily swanning about the house and outside with growing confidence as more time goes by without fireworks.
Chapter TextSansa wished she was not committed to sitting on her throne this day before the court. Alas, the matter of trade with the Reach required that she bring it before her Lords. Of course, she'd ensured the correct players were already pacified. The rest would follow, or she would force them. It certainly helped that there were but two Riverlords present. She had no doubt given another year her court would hold near as many men of the Riverlands as it held men of the North.
Still, she'd rather still be in Daisy's chambers, with her wife. Alas, while she would have let this commitment be delayed if necessary, it hadn't been. Sansa stood from her throne, her assembled Lords quieting in their places up and down the King's Hall. "My Lords and Ladies, I have called you here this day to present the trade agreement that I am shortly to enter into with House Tyrell for the benefit of the Kingdom."
"Your Grace!" Lord Greatjon Umber burst out. "We don't need those southern fucks."
There was a murmur of agreement that swept the room.
Emboldened, Greatjon straightened. "We already are beggared to the Ironbank for our food stores. Why should we beggar ourselves further to yet another foreign power? Unless the coming winter lasts longer than ten years it'll have been for nothing."
"Nothing!" Lord Patrek Mallister shot to his feet, a half snarl on his lips. "Oh aye, the North is shipping in enough grain and good stocks. But in the Riverlands, we won't survive four years of winter! Do you count our lives so little as that, my Lord?"
Greatjon looked down on Patrek Mallister. "And why should that be of our concern? Beggar your own damn selves if you don't want to starve."
"You sure bray loudly, Lord Umber." Arya drawled, her voice cutting through the rising sounds, as she spun her sword Needle between her fingers, where she was slouched artfully in her own seat just below the throne. Her eyes were sharp.
He turned, and it should have been threatening how huge he was standing there, towering over her. It was decidedly not. Well, threatening to Arya.
"You would see us carry the weight of the debt required for a bunch of bloody Andels, Princess?" His voice was rough, but he certainly was more intimidated by Arya than he was of Patrek Mallister. Or rather, he feared what Arya would do if he pressed her too hard.
Sansa took her seat on her ironwood throne, tacit permission for her Lords to continue to voice their thoughts. They did not hold the power to overrule her, and this trade deal would happen. But they did hold the right to voice their thoughts. If she'd ensured her sister had greased certain wheels so that the least substantively based arguments were those that would be spoken the loudest against her decision, well, that was her prerogative as Queen. And Greatjon was wonderfully useful for the purpose.
Her hand fell into Ghost's thick fur. She knew it was Jon's fault somehow that Ghost was always at her heels in formal court settings. A thing she was grateful for, but amused her. At least he didn't have blood speckling the white fur around his mouth this time. Her attention remained focused on the debate.
Arya's voice was a drawl as she replied to Greatjon. "I wasn't aware any of you were taking on the debt or had taken any debt to Essos? It is my sister who has taken that burden. Or am I mistaken?"
"Not entirely." Lady Barbrey cut in from her seat towards the front of the Hall. Afforded to her on the basis of her position on the small council and noble birth. "Our various Houses have taken a great deal of debt to House Stark rather than the Ironbank itself."
"Debts to be forgiven in reduced taxes, the loss of which my sister intends to bear herself." Arya raised a brow.
Greatjon scoffed. "Taxes that no doubt will have to be raised to pay for the great generosity of her Grace."
Patrek Mallister spoke again. "What are higher taxes when spring finally comes in the face of half the Kingdom starving before then? Have we not bled just as much or more than any of the rest of you? House Braken's heir is the Lord's second cousin because every male ahead of him in line died fighting for King Robb. Our lands were raised to the ground, our crops unharvested for years, our smallfolk slaughtered and abused, their very blood as mortar at Harrenhall. All in the name and in the service of Robb Stark. And where was the North when the vultures came for us? We have served as loyally as any of you. But for the pitiable cost of potentially raised taxes, you would let us starve? Even at this moment, we guard the southern border. You're nothing but spendthrift cowards."
"We all lost family in the War." Lyanna snarled, surging to her feet. "Mine own mother, sisters, and two-thirds of our levies perished fighting in the Riverlands. If you think us cowards, draw your sword and we'll see which of us is the coward."
Lord Overton banged his fist on the table. "If you all hadn't been caught with your pants down and lost near half your lands before we could even march ta' ya mayhap the war wouldn't have been bloody well lost!"
"ENOUGH!" Lord Glover roared, narrowly preventing Mallister from taking a swing for Overton's head with his fists. "We're not here to argue who fucked up what in the thrice-cursed War of Five fucking Kings." He waited till the other Lords reluctantly sat down. "As I see it it's a fair deal. The food is purchased at a rate one and an eighth the value of it to be repaid in installments beginning two years after the citadel announces the arrival of the next spring."
He had the full attention of the Hall. "That as well as a lifting of tariffs on goods from until such a time as the debt is repaid." Lord Glover cleared his throat. "It's a steep price, and as Lord Mallister says, a necessary one. A price made lower if we pay it quickly. A thing we cannot do while the crown is also beholden to the Ironbank."
Lord Glover turned his attention to Sansa. "How do you mean to pay this debt as well as the debts to the Ironbank at the same time, your Grace?"
Sansa could have smiled at the man, she hadn't even ensured he spoke in her favor. That was down to Patrek and Greatjon she'd seen prepared to make the appropriate arguments to swing in the direction she wished. She didn't flinch at the sudden return of the weighted attention of the room. "As of this moment, I directly hold more land than any Lord, Lady, Queen or King has ever held in the history of Westeros. A situation that will not persist for long, it is more land than any could directly manage well. However, as it is to me to give it as I see fit, certain conditions with such a gift would be expected."
The Hall was quiet as everyone parsed that out. It was rather simple in the end.
"For a time of five years from the start of spring, half of all wealth generated on those lands will be forfeit to the crown, save those lands allotted to Tormund Giantsbane. Those in the Riverlands who benefit from this shall repay to the crown the cost of what they have acquired in full, over a period of up to eight years. As such no taxes need be raised for the whole of the realm." Sansa finished. Honestly, she would take the initial debt, as she had done with the loan from the Ironbank. Or rather take the responsibility for the debt. Her Lords would be given fair time to repay her, and with the addition of dramatically increased tax from those lands she now held but could not manage personally long term, House Stark would be returned to being one of the richest Houses, if not the richest in eight years come spring.
All truths clearly every Lord there was realizing rather suddenly. Incidentally, the constant harping about who wanted to be awarded land would decrease. No personal fortunes could be built in those lands till after that sharp tribute or taxation demanded in the first five years. It made it a less appealing prospect in the short term. However, she could see several Lords realizing exactly how precarious her position financially would be for however long winter lasted.
Lord Tallhart stood. "Your Grace, surely there is something else to be offered?"
"There is." Sansa laid her hands on the arms of her throne. Her crown's weight barely a thought as she spoke. "We pay for it in lumber, of course, the cutting, transport, and loss of at least twenty thousand trees would be near impossible and would leave many to freeze without logs to burn through the Long Night."
Grim expressions darkened the faces of the court. "Fuck selling our damned trees to the fuckers." Lord Flint grunted.
"Of course, if we were capable of mining for valuable ores that might suffice, however, the ground is already frozen. We have neither the amount of furs or leathers to trade them, and we need them too desperately ourselves." Sansa explained.
Lord Overton spoke again. "Surely we have something else of value than mere gold, furs or lumber to trade?"
Edmund Blackwood stood. "We will pay her Grace back for this generosity. It is a debt none would shirk." He tipped his chin up, clearly unease at talking in this great Hall of Lords. "If what is offered us is a trade of gold, then it is a trade of gold we shall take, at our Grace's pleasure."
"Her Grace shouldn't bloody well be paying any of it." Greatjon snarled. Which…fuck, he wasn't just saying as agreed, he was genuinely defending her. "You Riverlords can take your own debts to those Tyrell cunts and pay it your own damn selves."
Lady Dustin scoffed. "And let half our kingdom starve or be gouged at far less forgiving rates? You'd cripple us all."
"Just give the Tyrells some of the lands by the Stony Sept and be done with the whole matter." Lord Knott cut in.
It was such a colossally short-sighted suggestion the entire room stared at the man in disbelief. Arya let out a high-pitched laugh that seemed to return the men to their senses.
"You would give the ancestral lands of House Tully, that directly pay homage to our Queen, to the Tyrells, for what? To avoid a few years of financial difficulty? You would ask her to give lands that her mother's House has held for generations for carts of grain?!" Lyanna Mormont's words were biting in their incredulity. As she stared at the man like she'd like to cut him at the knees so he'd be at her level and she could murder him properly.
Lord Knott apparently lacked survival instincts…hopefully, if casualties occurred on his lands in the war to come he would be among them. Surely his heir couldn't be this obtuse. "If her Grace wants to save the Riverlands, let her. But I'm not cutting a fucking tree, or paying a single coin to do it."
"You will if my sister commands it." Arya's voice was soft in a way far more threatening than it had any right to be. Her cold gaze upon the man who'd suddenly frozen. She held his eye. "Or are you threatening to break faith with House Stark, my Lord?" She wasn't spinning her sword between her fingers any longer, instead, she was holding it loosely.
He spluttered uselessly, the whites of his eyes clearly visible.
Sansa let out a long breath before she spoke. "Lord Knott, you wish for the crown not to be financially beholden to a foreign House. You also wish to not lose the wealth and resources of your land, yes?"
"Aye, your Grace." His eyes nervously flicked between Ghost, whose fangs were showing, and Arya.
She raised a brow. "Well if you wish to speak of the idiotic options you've missed the easiest one for providing food at a rate of half its cost in gold without losing any land." Sansa could feel the ripples of confusion through her court. "It's quite simple really, I marry Loras."
The Hall exploded with outrage as men yelled and shouted over each other. Poor Loras paled and was staring at her in shock and sheer terror as he stumbled back so Brienne and Conin could keep an opportunistic Lord from making a grab for him. It was pure chaos. Not a man or woman was still seated.
Sansa watched rather dispassionately. Honestly, as if she was stupid enough to genuinely suggest this randomly at court. When the day came, and it would, when marrying Loras was required, she'd handle it better than this. For fucks sake. It would require the North and Riverlands to be secure. Her court would have to be anxious for her to wed. And she'd certainly have to quietly ensure support from her small council, as well as from her most powerful and loudest Lords alike. However, this would at least put the idea into their heads as a possibility.
She flicked her attention to Arya. They shared a moment of understanding. And then Arya turned her attention back to the room, placing two fingers in her mouth, and blew out a piercing whistle that made several people flinch.
Sansa rose to her feet as the eyes of the whole court stared at her, barely biting their tongues. "Lord Umber, you will not break the peace under my roof, release Lord Knott at once."
Greatjon Umber's jaw clenched, but he dropped the man he'd been half shaking and likely about to start strangling. Lyanna Mormont, who'd clearly been encouraging the potential murder of Lord Knott, kicked the man as he hit the ground. A thing Sansa decided to ignore.
Instead, Sansa glared at her Lords. "I said it was an idiotic option. You've made your concerns heard." She waited till they'd all sat their stubborn hides down. Her eye caught Patrek Mallister who had a sluggishly bleeding nose, but a very smug look on his face.
She spoke crisply. "Does anyone wish to disagree that not allowing the Riverlands to starve is necessary?" Sansa paused long enough for it to be clear no one was going to argue. At least not without time to gather their thoughts. "Does anyone disagree that stripping our lands bare of lumber, furs, and leather is untenable?"
No one stood up. Good.
"And no one wishes to argue the very borders of the Winter Kingdom should be redrawn nor that I should set aside my lover so that I may marry a Tyrell?" A lot of poisonous looks were shot at Lord Knott and poor Loras. Unhappy sounds were made. But no one spoke. Sansa gave a faint nod. "Then I shall take your advisement under consideration when I accept this trade agreement as it is currently written. Unless there is something else?"
Lord Tallhart spoke. "No, your Grace."
"Then court is adjourned for the day." Her eyes snapped to Lord Knott. "However, Lord Knott. I trust you misspoke earlier. If you ever threaten treason again I will have your tongue ripped from your head before I remove it." Sansa noticed from the corner of her eye the Free Folk leaders looked positively delighted. Well, in their own vicious way.
Sansa smiled at the sight of Daisy leaning against a wall. She stepped to her wife's side, a hand automatically reaching out to rest on Daisy's waist. "How long have they been at it?"
"About an hour." Daisy leaned into the touch automatically, her warm gaze turning away from where Rickon and Lyarra were trying to teach Joramun to follow some basic commands. Shaggydog a large lump by the fire. "I take it your trade deal was approved?"
"It didn't devolve into a brawl and a single threat of lopping a man's head off at the very end." It was about what she'd expected. "They're scared."
Daisy made a sound of understanding in the back of her throat. "I puked from…well terror this morning." She grimaced.
"Father used to say the only time a man can be brave is when he's afraid." Sansa squeezed her hand that was still on Daisy's hip. It was only them, a few guards, and the two children with the wolves. And frankly, she did not give a fuck at the moment. The court already knew they were intimate.
And Daisy smiled, her posture remaining soft. "Smart guy." She paused. "Pretty sure he'd have tried to stab me for the whole thing between us though."
Sansa let out a soft laugh. "I doubt that."
"Really?" Daisy leaned in close, her lips nearly brushing her ear, and that had just changed their position from skirting propriety to nearly scandalous, as Daisy's arm curled up behind Sansa, her fingers gently pressing against her shoulder blade. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It's my understanding fathers don't like scoundrels who seduce their daughters?"
She refused to flush at the teasing tone in Daisy's voice. The rush of relief at Daisy behaving secure again was sharply good. "I thought we'd gone over that it was the other way around?"
"Hmm…didn't say I did the seducing intentionally." Daisy joked, her voice still soft, ensuring it didn't carry to where Lyarra was near copying Rickon and just snarling as Joramun had started trying to eat her glove.
Sansa shot Daisy a look while pressing her free hand to the center of Daisy's chest, gently placing a bit more space between them for decency's sake…or well not traumatizing Lyarra too badly. Her case of hero worship was sweet. "As delightful as this conversation is, the evening meal is to be served in the Great Hall soon."
////
Daenerys stared at the sprawling map of Westeros, tokens representing armies laid out across its surface. "You've placed a great deal of the forces below the New Gift?"
"We don't have the force or resources to rebuild the Wall." Jon pointed out the various castles along the Wall. "But we have manned the castles. We don't know where the Dead will attack, by holding our main forces back we can swing our forces to bare where the attack happens."
Garlan Tyrell's eyes narrowed. "And if the Wall falls the army will stand a chance at a defensive retreat."
"Aye, you'll lose every living man, woman, and child for a hundred miles at the least." Jorah rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "That's a terrible risk."
Jon's shoulders were set with determination. "We'll fight longer." He swallowed. "And should we fall it will buy time."
Daenerys did not have the knowledge or training for war. Not truly. What she did have, was a mind for people. "You've already evacuated the region closest to the Wall then?"
"Aye, or we're trying." He grimaced, part frustration, part humor. "We're a stubborn bunch, us Northerns."
Jorah spoke in that steady voice that had been at her side since the day of her wedding to Drogo. His dogged and dependable presence at her side was evidence enough that Northerners were stubborn mules, the lot. "Asking men to leave their homes and the land of their forebears is a hard thing, your Highness."
"We've asked the men to stay." Jon looked up. "Any man or woman old enough to bare arms we'll put a dagger in their hand. The children and some of the mothers we've been moving south."
Daenerys looked up at him sharply. "And the old?"
"Will not go." Jon's face set. "They'll do as the aged have done in the North at the beginning of winter or war since the First Men first lived in the North."
Jorah grimaced. "That's not been formally done since the Winter Wolves in the Dance."
She barely bit back a sound of horror. Because she knew what that meant. They would arm their elderly, and send them to die to reduce the number of mouths to feed. Her fingers tightened at her side.
"Your Grace, it is a gift given to one's family and people to do this." Jorah shared a look with Jon before continuing. "House Stark is not ordering them to do this. And they could not stop them even if they tried."
Willas cut in from where he'd been quietly listening. He was the only one of them seated, a concession he'd grimaced but asked for. "An admirable if terrible sacrifice. I am more concerned about how your strategy will work with so many different armies? The larger the force, the more complicated coordinating it will become."
The door opened, and Tyrion rushed in, Leonette Tyrell on his heels. "Your Grace."
"You're presence was requested an hour ago, Lord Hand." Daenerys' eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Though she noted Leonette making her way quickly to her husband and good brother.
He strode the last few steps. "My apologies, but news reached me that I thought best to ensure was truth before I brought it to you."
"And is it the truth?" She asked.
Tyrion smiled. "Yara Greyjoy has returned to us."
And sure enough, sweeping in behind them, was Yara Greyjoy. Every inch of cocky, self-assured confidence radiated from her as it had in Meereen. However, she certainly looked a wreck. Her hair was greasy and rather plastered to her head. She was coated in dirt, flecks of blood on her dirty trousers, shirt, and torn overcoat which was quite ripped. She was also only wearing one boot. "Some people seemed to think I wasn't appropriately dressed to see you, your Grace." Her eyes narrowed toward where Leonette was standing. "But as you'd be a poor conqueror if a spot of blood bothered you." She paused. "And if I have to spend one more hour with that fucking rescue party I'm gutting them. Figured you wouldn't want that."
"Davos?" Jon asked, nearly taking a step forward.
Yara gave Jon a look that was one part critical and one part dismissive before waving a hand. "Fine, banged up but was mother henning the blacksmith. Didn't want to come in smelling like horse shit, your Highness."
Daenerys raised a brow as Jon let out a breath of relief. "It gladdens me to see you returned to us. We had feared you lost, your Highness."
"Well, that brother of mine isn't completely useless, your Grace." Yara's eyes spotted the sideboard. She was across to it in three steps, picked up the pitcher of wine, and didn't bother with a cup, just started drinking straight from the pitcher.
Daenerys fought against the smile that wanted to form. Well, whatever news Theon Greyjoy's rescue mission brought, it would certainly be entertaining to hear of. And she was…relieved the pirate Queen hadn't perished. Daenerys rather liked her after all.