Chapter 127Chapter TextDaisy paused, looking up at Sansa with a half smile, from where she'd gently been pushed back to sitting on the edge of the bed. "See I'd think we were getting lucky again, but you're already half-dressed?"
"You're wearing proper layers if you're going past the Wall." Sansa gave her the most exasperated look, it'd have landed better if her eyes didn't trail lower than her face. But point made.
She leaned back, actually feeling kinda smug, she did have fantastic boobs. "So what, two shirts instead of one?"
"If I could force you into some of Jon's winter gear I would," Sansa replied dryly as she opened Daisy's clothes chest and began to pull things out.
Fair enough, she was not wearing black, badly fitted Jon clothing if she didn't have to. She'd suck it up but…years of wearing other's cast-offs meant she preferred not to, thanks. "So, what am I wearing? And also you are aware I'm an adult and not Rickon?"
"Layers and you really do need to wear something besides your breast binding, it's wearing out." Sansa pulled out what was definitely stays.
Daisy straightened. "Ok, your weird torture-looking device for boobs, while very hot on you by the way, does not look practical."
"Near every woman on the continent wears them." Sansa raised a brow looking at her in disbelief. "And it's far less rigid than the ones I wear."
Well shit. She blew out a long breath, her sports bra really was wearing out. "Fine."
"You refuse to give more than the barest of preferences with your clothing, but undergarments is where you care?" Sansa shook her head carrying over what was actually a vaguely concerningly large pile of fabric. "Besides, these are perfectly practical and not even fashionable."
Daisy glanced at the clothing. "How much have you been making your poor ladies make me?"
"You've been in the south, I refuse to leave you in the same four or five outer garments." Sansa actually sounded insulted at the very idea. She shook out a white undershirt. "Now put this on, please."
She took the shirt, easily pulling it over her head, and stood off the bed. "I just want you to know your people's underwear is weird." Her nose scrunched as she grabbed the pair of drawers off the pile and stepped into them. "I mean seriously, if men saw these in my world they'd have a cow. Boxers are just…so much less poofy."
"You exaggerate." Sansa gave the garment an amused look, and fair. Poofy wasn't really the right word. Still a lot more fabric than men's underwear on earth.
Daisy grinned, leaning forward and kissing Sansa lightly. Leaning so her lips were by Sansa's ear she lowered her voice for effect. "Not complaining about the lack of anything you wear under all those skirts though. Wouldn't even need to get anything off of you to give you a good time."
The catch in Sansa's throat was telling of exactly where her mind had just gone. She recovered, gently pushing Daisy a half step back. "You are utterly insufferable."
"Yup." Daisy grinned, right up until Sansa's fingers were brushing her brown hair behind one ear, gently letting her fingers trail against her. She felt bare at the look on Sansa's face.
Which is when Sansa held up the stays. "The extra layers to get at you is a sacrifice I am willing to make."
Daisy couldn't help it, she laughed. "Terrible sacrifice." She grabbed the stupid thing and pulled it on, and to be fair, it was quite a lot less material than Sansa's. If she had to guess it was a pattern for girls not yet expected to wear court gowns. Also possible it was designed for servant women.
Sansa's fingers easily adjusted it until it was properly in place. She tightened the laces up the front without hesitation. "I fail to understand why you seem to believe this makes breathing difficult. Whatever garment from your world it reminds you of must be appalling."
"Never wore one, so no comparison," Daisy admitted, and well shit. It actually wasn't tight. Might make some bending a bit harder, but she'd have to test that.
Sansa gave a huff that meant 'unbelievable'. "A part of me would feel better if this was chainmail," she remarked as she opened up the wooden box Daisy's field suit was in.
Actually, Daisy blinked. "Since when has that been in your rooms?"
"Since I asked Hogg to have it brought here," Sansa replied while passing it over. "Ensuring it would work with the dress we've made you was rather important. The shoulders of about half your gambesons won't work, but the others did or were easily modified for it."
"You know Rickon and Arya have a point about you and fashion." Daisy ignored the dirty look she got for that. Instead, she pulled on her field suit. It was…well it was a bit of a trick to not leave the medieval undergarments bunched weirdly. But it was funny…she hadn't worn this suit in over a year. Jesus. The kevlar blend felt…strangely rough against her hands as she zipped it into place. She wasn't sure she liked the feeling it gave her.
Sansa didn't give her time to parse out any complicated feelings at the reminder of home, and instead pressed a second, thicker shirt into her hands. "Put that on, you'll need a few layers yet."
"You were one of those girls who were really intense about their dolls weren't you?" Daisy pulled on the second shirt over her field suit, a fond smile at her wife as the strange feeling passed. She grabbed the pair of pants and pulled them on over the lower half of the suit before Sansa got crazy intense about this. But it was…nice to have her fuss. She wasn't used to people fussing over her because they were worried. Sure if she was hurt, sometimes, not in a few years even then really. But never just generally? It was weird but…nice.
Sansa paused, seeming to actually recall that one. "I stopped playing with dolls when I was eight."
"Well yeah, but you had like a whole doll empire that you ruled." Daisy had had a few foster siblings with Barbies. Also, really fucked up soap opera doll adventures. She'd kinda always wanted one.
Sansa sighed, passing her a woolen vest. "Yes, I suppose I did. I liked to dress them and turn my rooms into a royal court for them. Did you? Play with dolls that is?"
"Not really?" Daisy pulled on the grey vest with purple eagles stitched upon it. "I mean sometimes I'd be able to but I never really had like…toys that were my own growing up? And if I did it's not like I got to keep them, ya know?" It was an old hurt and one that didn't sting so much now. She buttoned up the vest with quick and easy motions before pulling on the matching aketon that went nearly to her knees. It was thicker and certainly warmer than most of the other garments Sansa had had made for her. Which…she'd never owned so many clothes before. And certainly, nothing that meant as much to her.
There was a pause then, as Sansa silently watched her actually dressing. "I forget sometimes how different our childhoods were."
"Don't be." Daisy looked at her wife and just…she smiled. "Please say that is not a hideous hat you're going to try and make me wear?"
Sansa touched her shoulder. "I'd put you in chainmail if I could."
"I'll be fine. If there's danger I'll get out." Or well shatter it to pieces. "I'm even bringing a dragonglass dagger with me, not that I'll need it."
Sansa's face tightened, her fingers digging into the fabric of the gambeson she'd just pulled on. "Daisy, the true north is dangerous, we do not know what your powers will do against the Dead."
She gently caught Sansa's waist with one hand and pulled them together. "Hey, it's going to be ok. I'll be fine."
"You can't promise that, no one can promise that."
Daisy cupped Sansa's face, ensuring she was looking at her. "I haven't lost yet. And this isn't even a fight."
So Daisy was wearing a hat, and cape/cloak/thing that was apparently Arya's not Jon's…and gloves and a scarf. She'd ended up with everything Sansa had asked her to put on. The crazy amount of layers made her feel oddly stiff. If she ended up against a vibration-proof zombie ninja she was fucked. However, Sansa had been right about the weather, so it was probably a good thing she was wearing more layers than god. She snorted at that, she kinda was god here wasn't she?
Still, she looked up at the looming Wall. It was freezing cold, but her senses were locked on the Wall above her. The vibrations of it were screaming at her. Magic, the whole fucking thing was drowning in magic. She could feel it, and it went deep into the ground. It set her teeth on edge. She pushed the unease down. Letting her powers thrum she launched herself in an arch, wind whistling past her.
She landed with barely a thump on top of the Wall. As her feet hit the frozen gravel and ice that formed the wall, she felt a shiver of revulsion. She did not like it. At all. Where the trees seemed to almost hum in a melodic chant. Honestly, it kinda reminded her of the church chanting from St Agnus and weekly mass. This…this was not that. This felt like static electricity frozen in a silent scream. Or more…the whining sound from before a scream. Like the sound of nails on a chalkboard.
"Well, that's super fucking creepy." Daisy looked at the clear blue sky. It was always colder when the sky was clear. Even with her powers keeping her warm she still felt the chill. So Sansa had been right about the hat. But still, "Here we go, just like old times."
Shaking her head, she let herself fall into mission mode. Go in, make the point, protect Bran, get out. Her heart rate was the same slow, steady thud she'd been trained to keep it at. And so she launched herself north.
The wind was cold as she shot through the air, it was so cold it was sharp like glass grating against her skin. Even with her powers protecting her it wasn't exactly pleasant. But she wasn't focusing on that. Rather she felt the way the vibrations here were different. The red leaves of the huge weirwood tree she was aiming for might have been missable if it wasn't for the vibrations. She could feel it…hear it.
Rolling over in the air, she changed the direction of her flight enough to land near the tree. She hadn't needed Bran's directions as much as she'd thought she would. The feel was…distinctive. The snow crunched under her feet. It was gorgeous. And she knew to her bones it was wrong.
The ground was rocky, uneven with chasms and rolling hills of rock. And all of it was covered in what felt like about a dozen feet of snow. Upon one of the frozen ridges was a towering weirwood that dwarfed the one at Winterfell. She wondered if it was like goldfish, this one wasn't contained and had grown larger?
Arrayed around it were crumbling towers of stone. But its roots! Its roots twisted and consumed the entire ridge. She could feel them, twisting through stone, spanning miles of ground beneath the surface. But it was…wrong. Everything felt wrong. Not wrong like the shrieking of the Wall exactly but more…like a clock turning counterclockwise instead of clockwise. She didn't really have the words for it.
But it didn't take vibrations to know something was wrong with this tree…with the ground beneath her feet. Her eyes could see well enough. The tree was frozen, parts of its bark cracked or burst outwards. Yet some of it still lived. But it was a riot of warring vibrations.
Daisy swallowed, what had happened here was wrong. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. But she could feel what she needed to.
She dropped off the outcropping she'd landed on the broken frozen pond below. Daisy eyed the damage, most of it was covered by snow, but she could tell a battle had happened here. She could feel eyes on her.
Her steps felt loud as she trudged through the miserably deep snow toward the entrance she could feel into the labyrinth below the tree. Every breath misted as she breathed out, the air burned it was so cold. It left her grateful she could warm the air around her. Despite that, she felt a shiver at the wrongness of this place.
"Just walk into the creepy tunnels probably full of zombies. Great plan Johnson….Stark." It was weird she was a Stark now. A thing that still was a soft bloom of warmth every time she thought of it.
Daisy was careful not to touch the sides of the cave as she walked into what looked like a fucking horror movie set. Yay plan.
But seriously, the skeletons and shattered human bone littering the floor were adding to the whole terrible vibes. She kinda wished Mack was here, he'd be having an aneurysm of common sense about not walking into the creepy magic cave with dead people and probably zombies. He def had life insurance for zombie attack.
"Fuck." Daisy pulled the candle out from under her cloak, the wick had been dipped in pitch. It barely took a flicker of thought to make it reach its ignition point. The pale light illuminated the twisting cave. It was grim.
She came to a halt, eyes narrowing. There was something moving in the dark. She could feel its movements wrapped in that horrible vibration that screamed 'wrong' to her. Even as it moved she felt unnerved at the lack of any movement that a living body had. She hadn't realized how used to the feel of blood, internal…just everything she'd gotten.
It came into the faint light from the candle. A skeleton, enough rotten sinew to move it, but whatever was truly moving it was not the leathery bits of sinew. It thrummed with what she was positive was magic. Super gross looking.
Her hand raised as she felt its vibrations, and then she forced them apart. And magic may make it seem to want to cling to itself, but it still turned to dust.
Daisy walked past where the dusted remains, the last wisps of magic fading from the destroyed corpse. Creepy, horrifying, and didn't even make the top twenty horrifying things she'd seen. The unnatural vibrations and reality of the situation ensured her guard remained up. But she was beginning to understand the situation as she walked, not thinking too hard about what was under her feet.
She didn't count how many dead she turned into dust, and she didn't pause to look at their faces. Some were nearly human, with clear and obvious wounds, others more skeleton than anything else. The smell was musty, the cold at least kept the cave from being filled with the stench of rot. There wasn't a need to pull out the dragonglass dagger.
The tunnel came out into a larger open area. Some natural light reached here, not enough to warrant her extinguishing the candle though. Not that she was using the candle much, her powers served as better eyes. Still, she could see the twisted remains interwoven with the tree's roots. So that was Bloodraven.
So bringing an axe might have been a good idea.
Daisy came to a stop beneath the corpse, at least this one wasn't alive? She had her suspicions about how much of that was true though. The trees fed off more than the iron in the blood they ate after all. Her eyes narrowed at the vibrations running through the tree. She had meant to just vibrate out the body, dump it in a potato sack, and get out. But… "This is why you brought me isn't it?"
The normally peaceful thrum of the weirwoods felt like cries of pain. It was dying, slowly, as the 'wrong' shrieking ice consumed it. The roots were consumed, and the deeper sounds of the old gods' magic were limited to what upper areas had yet to be frozen. She wouldn't be giving it her blood. That just…that seemed like a really fucking bad idea.
Still, that left the question, what to do? Her eyes closed. It was subtle, but the ground itself had a creeping sense of…it's where the ice was coming from. Which, that absolutely was not normal. So right, ice magic in the ground. Totally not alarming. At all. But…fuck, she was feeling bad for the tree. It was basically dead, its roots gone, most of its trunk and some branches gone as well.
Daisy didn't glance as a zombie shattered behind her. Instead, she reached up and touched the hand of the man twisted in, and consumed into the tree. And she sunk her power into the tree. It could fight her as much as it wanted, but it wouldn't win.
////
Daenerys had come to despise getting out of armor, it might only be the second time she'd been required to do it, but the sheer indignity of it was galling. She glared at where Jon was biting back laughter.
"Well, we know to braid your hair 'efore trying to help you out of it." Jon said while adding some larger pieces of wood to their fire.
She huffed. "Yes well, I'd prefer not to be scalped."
"You didn't lose that much hair." Jon offered, he was definitely barely keeping from laughing. It was thick in his voice.
She touched her head, "It felt unpleasant enough." Not that she'd lost more than a few strands, but it'd taken a lot of swearing and fumbling help from Jon to prevent it from being a great deal more hair. "You would make a terrible hand-maiden."
"Reckon you're right." He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiled. In moments like this, he really was a very handsome man.
Daenerys felt her own lips pulling up in amusement. "I suppose we should be grateful no one can report the indignities of this trip."
"There is that." He shot a look at Rhaegal.
She laughed at that and took a seat by the side of the fire.
"Your dragon didn't dump you in a creek," Jon grumbled as he pulled out the package of rations.
There was a pause, she sighed. "You're not going to let me assist with cooking are you?"
"You could cut the bread?" Jon offered, and he certainly had pathetic puppy eyes when he tried. She wondered if it was a family trait from the Starks?
She opened one of the several bags the Tyrells had helpfully prepared and attached to Drogon's saddle for them. "I can cut the bread."
Jon was quiet as he placed the large cast iron pan onto the rocks around their firepit before tossing a few of the sausages they had been provided with. "We've made good time."
"How long till Dragonstone, do you think?" She asked looking at the dark sky, they hadn't landed till the sun was nearly set.
He frowned, seeming to mull it over. "If the wind favors us for a third day, and we fly past nightfall, we may reach Dragonstone by end of tomorrow."
She hummed, that was significantly faster than the week and a half it had taken to reach Highgarden. But she'd spent the majority of that time flying at the speed of her Dothraki, and only flown ahead on that last day. "I was under the impression we were not expected to reach Dragonstone for another two, likely three days?"
"Wind's been in our favor and we've flown long hours." Jon gave a pleased look at Rhaegal. "And they're powerful creatures. It's good to be doing something."
Daenerys made a sound of agreement. "It's intolerable constantly waiting to do what needs to be done. Sometimes I think my advisors have settled on the singular purpose of delaying things."
"It was like that with the Watch sometimes." Jon folded his legs underneath himself. "I always wanted to go rushing after a thing to do, to change. It still feels like that. I've seen the enemy, and ever since I've been trying to convince everyone to stop killing each other and kill the Dead instead. It's ridiculous I'm still doing it and it's been years."
She pulled her own legs up, wrapping her arms around them, watching the fire. "All this pointless delay."
"I wish we could just get to the doing bit and stop the arguing about the details of even agreeing to work together." He sighed. "At least the Greyjoy fleet will be something to do."
Daenerys took a sip from a wineskin. "Even once this alliance of ours is agreed on there will still need to be a wedding. They won't want armies marching without us being wed. And of course, a royal wedding will take yet more time." She knew her voice was bitter. "At least the dragonglass will have had long enough to be prepared in the North by the time we are finally able to reach your home."
Jon's nose wrinkled. "I never thought of a southern wedding, for myself." He shifted. "Decided on the Night's Watch and then after…it didn't feel important. And if I hadn't of sworn to the Night's Watch…well, Northern weddings are simpler than southern ones."
"I thought I would wed my brother as a girl. And then it ended up quite different when the time came." Dany was still unsure if she was grateful for that or not. The early days of her marriage were still not things she could look on fondly. They'd been painful and terrifying. Her Drogo hadn't been her's then, not really.
He used a sharpened stick to turn the cooking sausage. "If we plead war, do you believe we can at the least get Highgarden to host our wedding?"
Wasn't that a horrible thought, they might try and insist on the Starry Sept in Oldtown. It was the grandest sept after the destroyed sept of Baelor. "I'm going to have to have the Sept of Baelor rebuilt."
"Well…you could probably make it grander than Baelor made it?" Jon looked at her in some confusion at the change of subject.
She looked over at her almost certainly husband to be. "I realized they will likely wish for us to wed at the Starry Sept in Oldtown, not the sept at Highgarden. And unless we wish to trek to Oldtown regularly for religious events rebuilding the Sept of Baelor will be a priority." Dany saw the same dawning horror she felt at the inevitable further delay. "What do you mean that I can make it grander? The cost of that alone would be-"
"Daisy." Jon huffed a fond expression that she'd learned was just the face he made when speaking of the god. "She likes making glass, she'll just make whatever terrifying amount of glass you could want for the sept if you ask."
She raised a brow. "As my husband, I rather think making ludicrous requests of the divine should end up your responsibility."
He laughed outright at that. "Aye, I can do that." He paused. "Neither of us have a clue about the Seven do we?"
"I'm sure there's a Tyrell cousin we can make our advisor on matters of the Faith. They seem to have a cousin for every possible task." Her tone was wry as she spoke.
Jon nodded in agreement. "Still, you have dragons, surely you can wed where you want if they try and make us and the whole court go to Oldtown before then finally going North?"
"We have dragons." Dany held back the word 'nephew'. He was in most ways a Stark even if he was by rights a Targaryen. While not upset by their degree of relation, it was clear he was not entirely comfortable with it. "Some days I wish dragons made things as simple as everyone believes it does."
Jon poked at the sausages. "It'd certainly advance things if we just went and signed the bloody alliance, married without the whole political process." He had a faint longing in his tone.
Dany's spine straightened. "What's stopping us?"
Chapter 128Chapter TextWillas rose to his feet in alarm as the doors simply blew open to his private solar. He felt a shiver of sheer dread at the sight of Daisy striding into the room. There was a set to her shoulders and steps that was focused, and she was far more formally dressed than typical. But what was alarming was the sack slung over one shoulder. Her person demanded attention. He spoke carefully, tone as formal as possible. "Holiness, it is an honor to welcome you back."
She raised a brow, a look that implied she found the title and formality of that rather ridiculous. Coming to a stop she dumped the sack off of her shoulder. It landed on the ground with a thud. "Took care of the Bloodraven issue. You should probably burn the body. Figured Keat might feel better seeing the actual body though."
"Good gods did you dig him out of the ground?" Olenna managed from where she'd risen to her feet, eyes wide as she clearly was having a hard time getting past how truly coated in dust and grime the Goddess was.
Daisy made a vague shrugging motion. "Well, he was inside a cave system underneath a weirwood." Her nose scrunched up. "I may have miscalculated how not stable that root system was going to be after I exploded it."
"Exploded?" The voice of Olyvar Martell managed hoarsely into the stunned silence.
Daisy gave an upward tilt of her head that radiated self-assured power. "I get why the old gods dragged me here. The Others, their magic is freezing the trees from the roots up." She actually frowned. "It felt…wrong. I was just going to drag back Bloodraven's body, instead, I put the tree out of its misery. Which did make the cave collapse. I've got no idea what of this muck is dirt, what's dead people dust, and what's tree dust. So like, there ya go, Bloodraven, warging problem solved."
"Of course, Holiness." Willas's mouth felt dry. He looked to his steward. "Go and fetch Keat, immediately."
Olyvar was staring. "You went beyond the Wall?"
"I cannot describe how much I am not ok with stealing human free will." Daisy stared at the Martell Prince, with a weight of her loathing of the very concept. "It's bullshit, and if I have to explode a tree and cut a half tree half bone corpse out of enemy territory to keep it from happening again, then that's what needs to happen."
Willas's eyes were drawn to the sack, he was…morbidly curious what was concealed inside. Because it had not sounded like a body, exactly. But he forced himself to focus on the actively filthy Goddess. "If you killed a weirwood, your relationship with the old gods, is it in peril?"
"I doubt it." The Goddess crossed her arms, leaning back, everything from her expression to stance a clear threat of 'they can try'. She rolled her eyes at whatever their expressions were doing. "Look, they need humanity and arguably me to stop the Others or they will die, they know who I am and would know why mind control is something I will not tolerate, and the tree I exploded was mostly frozen to death already anyway." There was a…terrifying level of assuredness to her. "And let's be real, bringing me here was a stupid risk for them."
"Risk, your Holiness?" Olyvar managed to ask, his voice very dry with repressed panic.
She sighed. "Their physical form is trees. They are sentient trees, they care about what trees care about. Makes sense why the North worships them, and I don't even mean the whole stubborn thing, the North depends on their crops, on maximizing every harvest, on the weather. The old gods are nature gods. It's like…their whole thing."
The Goddess clearly realized they weren't entirely following. She shifted. "Look, gods do not care about humans the way you think they do. Their first concern is their own shit. Humanity really isn't like…anyone's priority. The Olds Gods didn't bring me here to help with the Others because they want to save humanity, they want to save themselves. So I mean I'll check in with the trees later, but I can almost guarantee they're fine with me establishing no mind controlling the humans as a rule for continued help."
"But you do care, about humanity, Holiness," Willas said slowly because anyone with eyes could see that. Could see it in how she'd visited the orphanage a half dozen times. Even if he wasn't monitoring that the sisters had sent panicked concerns about their children starting to send prayers to Daisy instead of to the Seven.
She softened. "Yeah, yeah I care. I'm weird like that."
Olenna made a sound. "You don't believe the old gods will care, because you don't believe they will see your demand as more than an inconvenience."
"Basically." Daisy paused, her eyes flicking to the door, her arms dropping back to her sides, her expression changed as well, the half dare to challenge her fading. "Keat, any changes while I've been gone?"
The poor servant was faintly panicked as he bowed. "Holiness!" He straightened, fingers twitching slightly. "I am well? Thank you, Holiness."
Willas quietly made a mental note to see that the man received a few gold coins for that. The poor servants were not trained or equipped for a Goddess to show them attention. It might be one thing in passing, it was another before their Lord, a foreign Prince, grandmother, and expectation of real response. And honestly, it would make him feel better to actually do something about the whole mess even if it was only paying some people for also surviving this insanity.
Daisy kicked at the sack, which again did not sound or move like a body and Willas was both desperate to see and terrified of what was in it. "You won't have anyone else in your head."
Poor Keat's eyes tracked down to the sack and then back to the Goddess. "Holiness?"
"Oh right." She leaned down, grabbed the bottom of the sack, and unceremoniously dumped the contents on the floor.
It was…macabre. Willas supposed Brynden Rivers or Bloodraven had been a frail, old man once. But his body had wasted away, flesh peeling away from the bone, nearly mummified. But the roots growing through him, and it appeared…what of his bones were visible appeared to have turned to wood themselves. Ice clung to him, some sort of frozen fungus growing off part of his face. Consumed by the Old Gods indeed, that was not a man. Though perhaps a lesson that lengthening one's life through magic was a horror. It was…nauseating and fascinating.
"So, idiot who trained a teenager in how to warg a person, trees very aware I won't tolerate them letting that happen again, and said teenager is going to be monitored to ensure he doesn't even think of trying it again anyways." Daisy wiped at the muck on one cheek.
Keat stared at the…monster, the monster's body on the ground, his eyes wide. But for all the shock, horror, and confusion something seemed to…almost unclench. The nervous ticks faded from his person. "Oh." He didn't seem to even be aware he'd said that.
Willas was relieved his grandmother was having some kind of silent existential crisis while staring at the body of Brynden Rivers. And well, Olyvar was looking a bit green around the gills which left only servants who would know better than to interrupt what was happening.
Looking up at the Goddess, Keat's face looked near to tears. "Thank you, Holiness. You did not have to do that, I'm just a servant."
"Hey, no." She touched his shoulder. "What happened to you was horrible, I promised I wouldn't let it happen again, yeah?" She had a kindness that Willas was always struck by on her face. "You handling the nightmares ok?"
He startled looking at the Goddess straight in the eyes for a second. "I-how?" He shook his head, eyes dropping again. "They're just cold, Holiness. I'm very well."
"They get better, the nightmares." Her hand gave the man a final squeeze before dropping. "Get warmer blankets, it'll help if what is sticking with you is the cold." She gave a sigh. "And I know about the nightmares because the Old Gods aren't the only ones who can take over like that. Nightmares come with the territory."
Willas stepped in to save the poor man from kindness he had no idea how to accept. "Holiness, you suggested we burn this…thing?"
"I mean burning it is probably the smart course of action." She gave a faint shrug. "But if you want to keep the super creepy part tree corpse and see what happens like…I'll bail you out if it starts going bad?"
That was a horrifying thought, a corpse causing things to happen that required divine intervention. "Burning tonight will more than suffice." He looked to one of the servants. "Go, have a pyre built in the main courtyard." Willas fully intended the whole of Highgarden to see and know that Daisy had gone this far to defend the mind of a single servant whose name she hadn't even known. Panic over what powers the North might hold would not be helpful. He had goals, and those goals involved peace between their Northern neighbors after all. Also not dying was a bit of a priority a rather hysterical part of himself added.
Daisy looked at her hand and grimaced. "On that note, I'm disgusting and trying real hard not to think about how much of this is dead body dust and goop and how much is dirt. So gonna go scrape this crap off." She looked at him. "Unless there's something else you need Willas?"
He kinda hated the pleased thrum he felt when she said his name. "Please, I have no words to express my gratitude for what you have already done, Holiness."
"Just like send someone if that changes." She gave another look of disgust at herself and then strode out of the room.
Willas dropped into his chair. "Send for Missandei and Garlan."
////
Daisy was submerged to her chin in the large bathtub. Her mind felt…less frantic, more settled. She was having more words with Bran tomorrow though. For now…it was nice. Yes, it was the second tub of hot water, the first had turned a truly disgusting color, and that was after using some linen to scrape herself as close to clean as possible before getting in the first time. She glanced up as Jenna, one of the servants hesitantly slipped into the room, dropping into a curtsy, eyes on the ground.
"Uh, is something wrong?" Daisy was kinda confused by what it could be, but still.
Jenna's voice was…hesitant. "Missandei of Naath to see you, Holiness."
Her brow rose, cause now that Jenna mentioned it, she could feel the familiar vibrations of Missandei in the room on the other side of the door. "Huh." It could be important? "If it's important let her in I guess? If it's not I'll be out in a minute?"
Jenna gave a quick curtsy and then left to pass on the message.
It probably wasn't important? But that meant she kinda had to get out of the very nice hot bath. Being clean could never be overrated. Daisy dunked her head underwater, making sure the last of the soap was out of her hair. Reluctantly she came back up for air, and to face the world.
She blinked water out of her eyes at the sight of Missandei standing there. Which, was kinda different than a locker room. But also, she'd kinda gotten used to the servants thing. Servants she at least convinced she didn't need help getting dressed or washing her own hair. Cause like being fine with general nakedness was one thing, wanting someone else to dry you off was another. But still, she swallowed down her embarrassment. "Oh, it's pressing then?"
"Perhaps, more private, I believe, Holiness." Missandei's expression was easy, like simply walking in on someone in a bath was just another Tuesday to her.
Daisy still stood up picked up one of the towels and wrapped it around her person. "I only ask because I believe it could be a risk to her Grace, but whatever or whoever controlled you once, do they remain a threat?"
"Oh, you got that." Daisy grabbed a second towel and stepped out of the tub, drying her hair.
Missandei spoke carefully. "I was a slave, I know when another's shackles are mentioned."
"It's fine, and no, Hive isn't a threat." Daisy felt the same grim…huh, it wasn't sharp like it used to be. "He's dead, it should have been me to do it, was supposed to be me."
There was a flicker on Missandei's face. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."
"Don't be, if he was still alive he would be a threat." She knew her voice had disgust in it. "Hive was…he was worse than the Kree." Daisy pulled her hair back, knowing the scarring from the Kree and Fitzs was obvious. "They managed to block my powers for a few days, probably shouldn't have enjoyed killing them as much as I did."
Missandei spoke, "The death of one's slaver is not a thing that can be enjoyed too much, Holiness."
"No, I suppose not." Daisy's lips twitched before her face fell serious. She hated how much everything with Bran had brought back Hive. "Hive was what I am. He was the first of us, meant to be our leader or King, but really our master. The Kree would only have needed to control him to control all of us. My power is…well it's pretty obvious. But Hive? He was a parasite. You only needed to breathe, just a single breath in his presence and you were his. The worst part was you didn't know to fight. Keat's lucky the Old Gods felt cold, because Hive…he felt warm. He didn't control you, didn't make you do anything you didn't want to do. Once he had a grip on you it was just…you were perfectly content, he was the center of your world, absolute love. I still…it's impossible to know what was because of him, and what was me."
Daisy hated the horror and understanding on Missandei's face. "I was only his for a few weeks. Andrew died to get him out of my head. And I wish I could say I was happy to be freed. Or that I hadn't committed atrocities for Hive. But he's dead."
"I would not have asked, but-"
"But the idea of anyone with the power to steal free will is terrifying?" Daisy'd have touched her or something normally, but she was buck ass naked under the towel.
Missandei nodded. "Thank you, you do not speak of yourself as a former slave, not truly, and yet you were. If I may, why?"
"I grew up human, and poor, but not a slave." Daisy looked Missandei in the eye. "I was born free, I grew up free, and have killed a whole lot of people to stay that way. Yeah, my ancestors were created to be slaves for the gods, and instead, Hive led them against the gods until the other Inhumans turned on him when they realized he wanted to rule us instead of the Kree. But no one has ever managed to survive keeping Inhumans enslaved long. Not humans, not gods, not anyone. I purged the entire line of the Kree responsible for making us in the first place. The current record for anyone keeping me somewhere I don't want to be is three weeks, and that was Hive. Next longest after him was the Kree at three days. And all that was before I was a god in my own right. To compare that to what the reality of truly being enslaved means would be…it'd be wrong. What you suffered and I have are different things. Related in some ways, but not the same."
"You purged the whole line of gods who made your species?" Missandei managed genuine awe on her face.
Daisy shrugged. "House Kasius…and really not thinking about the fact that makes me probably the oldest living person of their bloodline. But yeah, Jemma and I figured there were 50/50 odds on them being the assholes who had Fitz, and even if they didn't have him removing them from the equation would be smart. Also, they were never going to stop trying to finish what they'd started, so they had to go."
"And you were also related to Hive?" Missandei continued.
She shifted, she really didn't like the suspicions she had there. "Well, all Inhumans are kinda related to some degree. And uh…well my mom was immortal, and she knew what the door to Hive's prison looked like, and was like…real scared of it. And he was…weird with me. He wasn't wanting deep meaningful conversations and quiet companionship from anyone else he had under his sway. Like we went on like…walks and shit. So…really hoping he wasn't my uncle."
"Do you have any family who were not-"
"Evil or insane? No." Daisy grimaced. "More than you wanted to know?"
Missandei shook her head. "No, I find the Westerosi place a great deal of importance on bloodlines, and little on who people are."
"They do, don't they?" Daisy laughed before she glanced pointedly at her towel. "Want to let me get dressed though?"
Missandei turned. "Of course, my apologies."
She rolled her eyes, of course. Not that she hadn't noticed Jenna trying to become one with the wall to one side. They were so weird about nudity and everything here. 'Oh cover everything up but also servants aren't people so just shake your ass at them apparently'. Daisy started drying herself off. "So other than making sure there wasn't another divine threat to free will, was there anything else?"
"I did not mean to bring up dark memories." Missandei said, "But I thought…Jon is not here, and what happened to Keat affected you."
Daisy smiled at the back of Missandei's head. "I appreciate that, but I'm fine. Sorry if I brought up anything shitty for you." She used her powers to remove the last of the water clinging to her. Grabbing a clean shirt she pulled it over her head and reached for a pair of drawers.
"You did not, but thank you for asking." Missandei hesitated, "Do you believe Jon will be able to protect Daenerys while on dragon back?"
Daisy considered that. "I mean, probably. But even if he can't, I'll make sure nothing happens to them. Unless they fly stupid fast it'll take them another couple of days to get there, and I dropped by Dragonstone long enough to warn them. It'll be as safe as possible."
"I understand her Grace's impatience to fight, and she is the Mother of Dragons, concern for her safety must seem misplaced," Missandei admitted.
Daisy smiled. "You love her, worrying about the people you love is just like…a thing." She stared at the irritating set of stays. Multiple layers meant they'd stayed clean, and her stupid bra was still in Winterfell. She pulled the thing on and started lacing it up.
"I have followed her loyally since she first acquired me, it is hard not to love her. Even if it is not my place to do so." Missandei spoke with a soft affection that was so very real.
Which, Daisy just felt sad for what had been stolen from her friend that she thought loving her best friend was something she wasn't supposed to do. Cause Dany definitely felt the same way. "It's mutual you know?"
"Perhaps." Though Missandei sounded pleased at the words. "I serve a woman whom I believe in because I chose to. That is more than enough."
Daisy pulled on a pair of pants, considering her words. "If you weren't working for Dany, what would you do?"
There was a long silence as Missandei seemed struck silent by the question. "I…would like to see Naath again, I think."
"You should do that, like after the war and apparent years-long winter thing. Vacation is a thing. I'm pretty sure Dany would be more than happy to let you and Grey Worm go on a romantic voyage to Naath and back." Daisy definitely mentioning to Dany that she should suggest it and worst case scenario just arrange something like that for Missandei. They really needed to work on their concept of vacations here.
Missandei had a smile in her voice. "I would like that. What of you, what would you wish for if you could?"
Daisy stilled, her throat felt suddenly tight. "Nothing I can have."
At that Missandei turned, her face confused and worried, she had clearly heard something in her voice. "But you are a god?"
"That matters less than you'd think." Daisy forced herself to settle on her heels, with a half-shrug.
And Missandei seemed to understand in a way that hurt to see.
Chapter 129Notes:One more chapter before we're on hiatus for probably about a year.
Chapter TextBaelish took a drink of his watered-down wine, he did so love these private audiences with Sansa. They served as a barometer of how necessary his services were, and he did appreciate the chance to savor her presence. "On the matter of the Blackwood boy, I thought I may be of service, your Grace?"
"I presume you mean the oldest of the boys, Lord Baelish." Sansa looked up from where she'd been writing yet another writ of legitimization. So much dignity despite no doubt several marks of passion beneath her garments left by her lover.
He felt smug, she had looked up. At the sign, he required her full attention. "Yes, Edmund, handsome lad, shows promise, though perhaps not at court duties."
"He knows at the least when to be silent, for that alone he's useful." She clearly was weighing her next words. "Until the Riverlands are in hand enough for more of their Lords to come to court, I can hardly send him away either."
All very good, and unfortunately relevant points. Petyr was going to have to change tacts then, unfortunate but not the end of the world. "If you can't send him away to do something more useful than following Mallister about, perhaps a minor position. His sister is more interesting, don't you think, your Grace?"
Sansa leaned back in her seat, her eyes cold but narrowed as she looked upon him. An expression he would enjoy stripping from her when the day came. "I'm aware of the benefits of ending the informal betrothal between Rickon and Lyarra and instead wedding him to Bethany Blackwood. What of it?"
"It could further secure your position over the Riverlands, two Lords, and some letters is hardly as secure a claim as you will need." He stroked his finger against the side of his cup, rather wishing it was not a cup but rather her teat. A useless thought for now, but perhaps one to enjoy later. "And if your sister were to see to the solidifying of your position there as we further prepare for the inevitable from the North, it could only strengthen your position."
Sansa looked away. "It would have to be Arya, with the business with the Freys known she'd hold the authority and weight to consolidate rule there without a large number of men."
"Of course, my men in the Riverlands would be at her disposal, your Grace." He offered, there were so many options, but the consolidation of power needed to happen. The Vale and the Riverlands needed more time to be secure. The web of power required was of more importance than any weak lusts he may feel. "Including Ser Harrold Hardyng." Petyr was careful with the weight he placed on the man's name.
And she certainly took his meaning, such a clever girl. He really had taught her too well. "A marriage that would leave my sister to likely end up Lady Arryn."
"I hesitate of speaking of such evil things, but your cousin, Lord Arryn is of a…delicate constitution, as you well know. If the worst should happen, Harry is heir to the Vale. A worthy position for the Princess." And one that would secure the Vale allegiance far better than Robyn Arryn's ridiculous betrothal to the Glover girl. And further ensure when the day did come, Sansa would have no choice but to wed him, whether she wanted him or not she would be forced to capitulate. His head on a pike, or her hand in marriage. The only two options ahead of them, and no doubt she knew it as well as he.
Sansa raised one artfully sculpted eyebrow. "And you believe the Princess will tolerate a man like Ser Harrold longer than it will take to pick her teeth with his bones? Or beyond that, she would consent to a match that is not of her own choosing?" There was a dryness to her tone.
He gave her a tip of his head. "It would need to be delicately put, but if it secures your family, surely she can be reasoned with."
Baelish thought his morning appointment with the Queen had gone well, he was still undecided on the fate of Edmund, if his sister was betrothed to Prince Rickon it'd solve the problem nicely. He eyed where the two youngest Blackwoods, Lady Mormont, Lyarra Karstark, and Prince Rickon were working with the direwolves. It was convenient Lyarra was growing into a woman of….specific tastes.
His lunch in the tavern to receive some new whispers from his whores had been lackluster, nothing of particular note. He needed more to bind the Vale to the North. The marriage of the Stark bitch to Harrold would neatly solve the problem. Should she prove unreasonable on the subject he would need better options. Perhaps seeing to some Vale Lord receiving land and the ability to begin a branch of a Vale House in the North? That would help secure things. Maybe House Waxely? A knight of the Vale needed to swear himself to Sansa…perhaps one would be blind enough to do so to Rickon as well? Food for thought.
"The Riverlands?" Arya's voice came from basically thin air.
He managed to not jump, though he did tense at her sudden appearance by his elbow. It would seem she'd spoken to her sister while he'd been in the town. "Do you have a better thing to spend your time on, your Highness? I thought you wished for my aid in securing your position as Master of Whispers?"
"I suppose it won't be dull there." The Princess allowed, though her discontent was not hard to read on her. "Harrold Hardyng?"
"He'd make a tool for your interests. You need inroads with the Vale, he secures that for you. And if you don't marry him, your sister may have to. I don't believe I need to tell you that would be an unfortunate match. He has a certain reputation for arrogance and already has two bastards. Things no doubt you could handle as you saw fit without allowing it to damage your sister's reign."
The Princess's fingers played at the hilt of that sword she was so deadly with. "Well, if he proves unreasonable I suppose the Riverlands are chaotic enough no one would be surprised at his absence."
Petyr had a smug sense of satisfaction. Well, that would settle the Harrold issue. Whether the boy lived or not was of little concern as of yet. But it would seem Sansa had agreed with him, spoken to her sister on it, and now Arya agreed as well. The Riverlands would have a Stark securing them soon then. A thing that protected the realm, and conveniently would get Arya Stark out of the North for months, possibly a year or more. "Tell me, thoughts on the Lyarra Karstark situation, your Highness?"
"You mean besides she'd rather be betrothed to Sansa than Rickon?" Arya rolled her eyes.
His lips twitched. "Yes, hardly a budding romance for your brother."
The Princess didn't disagree, though her eyes were locked down below where the hell beast Joramun was leading several of the children on a chase, Lyanna Mormont's boot in his jaws. "Is that all you have, marriages and alliances? Or do you have something useful for me, my Lord?"
"Have I ever failed you, your Highness?" He waited for her eyes to flicker to him, before continuing. "As it happens, I have several things one in your position may wish to be informed of." The girl really was terribly useful, if utterly boorish and crass. Still, a tool to be used and not one worth wasting due to being roughly hewn.
She arched a brow in an eerily similar manner to her sister. "And those things are?"
"Meera Reed has yet to show any interest in your brother Prince Bran, she seems to intend to volunteer for another culling expedition. Something you may find of interest." He passed three thin rolls of parchment into her palm in an easy brush of hands. What was contained within was some information on Lord Manderly's current actions. The man's power block would need binding or breaking soon. No doubt the Princess would see to such a thing without interference from him.
Arya barely seemed to twitch, but the parchment was clearly no longer in her hand. Her slight of hand was notable as a skill. "No wise words on the Riverlands?"
"I'm sure you're willing and capable of what will need to be done to hobble those Houses that bent too easily to Lannister sympathies." He held her cold, grey eyes, she really was a monster. "As I am also sure you understand that should your uncle's child with his Frey bride live it will…complicate things." If such a child existed or could be confirmed in its parentage. And the child's survival was more likely than its sire.
Something deeply dangerous was on her face at that. "Yes, my uncle's decisions in the war were unfortunate."
"No doubt if he is allowed to age, his experience will allow him to grow into a man of notable wisdom and strength. One worthy of holding the Tully lands and name for your sister." And a man who no doubt would not still be living by end of the year if he still drew breath. After all, the Princess would know the risks of a weak link in their family, and the power and wealth of being the heirs to the Tully lands brought. Lands and titles that could easily be given to Prince Rickon should Sansa have heirs of her own body. Heirs he could provide her with.
Arya's eyes had a cold understanding. "I'm aware. Tell me, whispers of House Bracken?"
"It may be wise to bring one of the daughters of that House to serve as a lady in waiting to your sister. As a sign of favor for their renewed loyalty of course." And as a hostage, they would not be able to avoid giving.
"Naturally." The Princess agreed, and oh hardly a palatable bitch to look at, her usefulness in removing threats to the consolidation of Stark power was worth the eyesore of dealing with her.
Baelish thumbed through his collection of notes, no doubt Arya had already looked at all of them at some point. She was brazenly ill-mannered. No doubt it'd put her in disfavor eventually. He may be inclined to aid her when that day came. "Surely there is a knight among our people here who would willingly swear to her Grace as a sworn sword?"
"Ser Eustace Hunter may, he loathes his brother and current Lord Hunter. Finding a path away from Young Lord Hunter could suit him." Lord Royce said thoughtfully. "Ser Gerold Templeton would be likely as well, House is related to the Starks."
He considered the names. Both could make clean options for furthering Vale influence in this Northern court. Eustace especially was promising. "If you would speak to Ser Gerold, we must prove our loyalty now that we have bent the knee to her Grace."
Lord Royce hummed, rubbing at his chin. "I'll see to it."
He leaned forward. "Now, on the business of Lord Arryn bending the knee and swearing personally, I had thought we may wish to ensure he does something beyond simply bending the knee to secure favor for himself."
"Not upholding our obligations during the War of Five Kings has shamed us all." Lord Royce shook his head, a grave look painted across his intolerable face. Petyr would enjoy watching him die someday.
Now, however, he simply nodded. "As you say, my Lord. But in our shame, we may be of better and more leal service now." He was going to have to see that at least two or three young boys of appropriate rank were taken as wards of House Stark. His time as Lord Protector of the Vale was limited, and he would need as many ties formed now to keep his influence there once Robyn either came of age or 'tragically' died that a more useful man could inherit.
Cornering Ser Eustace Hunter had hardly been difficult. Like so many young men he was in the yard, honing his skills, and being utterly useless. Still, it made things convenient for Petyr, and in the end that was all that mattered. "Ser Eustace!" He called.
The young knight lowered his sword. Turning he lifted the visor of his helmet. His pale, sharp features that proved his First Men lineage, twisted in resentment as he recognized Petyr. "Lord Baelish." He gave the shortest tip of the head that could be considered polite.
A day would come when Baelish would have this man at his mercy. Until then, he would be useful. "If I could have a word with you, about your Lord."
The man took the bait, his eyes glinting at the mention of his older brother. Predictable really. "If you wish, my Lord."
Baelish folded his gloved hands into his thick woolen sleeves. The North was a miserable bit of land, the cold was abominable. The south suited him better. He watched as the other man pulled off his helmet, sheathed his sword, and approached him. Baelish gave a slight gesture and led them up and onto the walls. A fool thought walls meant privacy, the open where you could see for miles was where true privacy was found. No ears that could not be spied.
As they walked, Eustace cracked, breaking the silence. "You said it was about my brother, my Lord?"
The impatience of youth. Fools. "I was grieved to hear of your father's sudden death. A tragedy to be sure." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the knight's fists tightening. "A tragedy I worry your younger brother, Harlan seems unlikely to accept."
"What of it, my Lord?" Eustace had wariness in his voice and on his face now.
Petyr made a slight note of it, man might be worth keeping as a royal guard when the day came he could influence who held that title and who did not. "What are your thoughts on the Queen?"
Eustace seemed rather flatfooted at the question. "Her Grace is very impressive, my Lord?"
"And you hold no…disdain for her choice in paramour, Ser?" Baelish kept his manner unthreatening, though his eyes never left the knight now. He would know this man's truth, and Eustace showed no sign of being a good liar.
Sure enough, the man's feelings were apparent on his face. "A god is not to be denied, and the high esteem of that god is worth more than any husband she could take." His brow was furrowed. "What does this have to do with my brothers, my Lord?"
"A sworn sword to a ruling monarch would have access, the ear even of those he protected. A noble sacrifice. A sacrifice that might give certain protections from vile rumors that might follow a man if he protected his younger brother from those same rumors. Of course, a sworn sword would be unable to inherit lands while bound by his oaths, but such a thing would remove the tarnishing rumors could bring upon a House." Baelish watched as Eustace realized what he was saying.
Eustace's words were slow. "Lord of a holding with any ambitions would of course come to court to swear allegiance in person once the realm is secure, a dangerous journey, both coming and going."
Ah, familial kinslaying. So very excellent, and once the eldest brother was dead at his younger brother's hand in vengeance for the death of their father, well, Eustace would be dependent on Baelish's protection of his new dirty secret. Exactly the kind of guard standing at Sansa's back Baelish could use. "Terrible risk, so many bandits after the end of wars."
The mulled wine tasted sweet on his tongue as Baelish sat in the King's Hall after supper. He was watching as the discussion moved between various Lords on the subject of the latest negotiations over Jon Stark's marriage and alliance with the south. He was almost impressed by Ned Stark for that, hiding Rhaegar Targaryen's son.
"My Lords, we must agree to reasonable concessions, we gain a great deal from this alliance, possibly even our lives," Sansa spoke from her throne, she really was resplendent, and no matter how conservative her Northern gowns were, her beauty could hardly be hidden.
Baelish ignored the circling discussion. It was clear they were close to agreeing to the current terms. The Lords were being obstinate out of habit more than true disagreement. It was far more interesting to watch the newly returned god who was leaning against the side of Sansa's throne. Not that the chair deserved to be called a throne, but still. The casual closeness, the absent-minded brushing of touch from time to time.
He really would need to see to it that some of the Order became inclined to bring up the subject of naming Sansa as the god's official mistress to the being. It would soothe egos, and encourage those who opposed the pairing to suffer it in silence. Yet another thing to see to. Of course, he would need Sansa to know he'd done it. After all, his value lay in what he could deliver, and what would be lost if he did not provide it. Like the security of the southern border, the sure support of the Vale, and the financial and political inroads with the south he held.
Baelish took another sip of his mulled wine, things truly were coming together, enough weight, enough threads, a broken heart, and his prize would be his. He hadn't come this far to lose. Proud, Ned Stark, who had thought Petyr so below him, and beautiful Cat's daughter would be his. The victory would taste all the sweeter on his tongue because of it.
////
Jon held onto the ropes securing him to Rhaegal's back as they circled above Driftmark. The cold night wind cut through even his thick clothing. He was startled as Drogon shot out a pillar of flame into the empty air above them, crying out in his deep tones of joy and threat to those below them.
His blood sang with the beat as Rhaegal opened his maw and cried out in accompaniment with his brother, below him, Viserion joining as well. All who lived for miles about would have heard their arrival, would know the Mother of Dragons was here. He could see the lights in the fortress below lighting up as they were roused from their slumber.
Flying like this, in the air, on dragon back? It felt like freedom.
Rhaegal swooped with a final circle before landing with a great thud that made the ground shake beneath them. He sat upright on Rhaegal's back, looking down at the men in the courtyard. The confusion and explosion of whispers as they realized he was a man and not their silver-haired Queen. He would not apologize for being a Stark nor of a different kingdom.
He stayed tall and proud upon Rhaegal, taking in the courtyard, their bows were not unsheathed, nor bows drawn. A worry that was perhaps not entirely misplaced but still, the Velaryons were kin to the Targaryens, as close if not closer than any. But then so had the Baratheons been. He looked up as Viserion landed on the walls of the fortress encircling the courtyard themselves. His great talons dug into the stone.
Jon couldn't help the smile as Daenerys and Drogon landed with all the weight and power they held beside him. He swung his leg over and slid to the ground below. With a pat to Rhaegal's side, he walked to Drogon and waited.
Daenerys was resplendent in armor and colors of her House as she sat upon Drogon's back, the moonlight glinting off of her hair. Drogon, lowered a wing like a ramp down upon the ground, shifting his great, towering back lower, that his mother might unmount. And she did so, with the grace of a woman used to riding on dragon back.
Holding up his hand he stood there, taking her hand and carefully ensuring her steps were sure as she reached the ground. Her chin was raised as she led them, her hand still curled over his before what seemed to be the Lord of Driftmark, the silver hair was certainly a giveaway.
Daenerys stepped in front of Jon, her hand sliding out of his, her free hand giving a light gesture to the people in the courtyard to rise. "Lord Velaryon. I thank you for your loyalty and apologize for imposing upon your goodwill."
The man rose to his feet, of middling age, a silver beard upon his face, whether it held grey or not was impossible to tell in the lighting. His eyes were purple as he looked upon them. The rest of the household rose to their feet far more cautiously. His voice was warm and deep in a way that made imagining him shouting orders on a ship through storms and wind feel utterly natural. "Your Grace, Driftmark is yours, as are our blades and ships, as they have always been since our two Houses first left Old Valaryia."
"That is good to hear, my Lord. May I present my betrothed, my nephew, the Hand of the Winter Queen, his Highness, Jon Stark, the White Wolf." She gestured to Jon.
Monford Velaryon looked at Jon. "Your nephew, your Grace?"
"Rhaegar and Lyanna's son," Daenerys said as if it was nothing.
The man's eyes turned sharp, staring at Jon, clearly looking at his face with far more attention. And then his eyes flicked to Rhaegal, and something shifted in his expression. "You are most welcome as well, your Highness." He straightened. "Do you require our ships for breaking the attack on Dragonstone?"
Jon fell serious. "The Greyjoy fleet reached the isle faster than us then, my Lord?"
"Yes, an hour before nightfall, your Highness." Monford replied seriously, a sharp man, prepared to do what needed to be done.
He knew Dragonstone would have pulled up their defenses, with the Greyjoys only just now arriving… "Good, we'll fly for Dragonstone while it is still night."
"We will?" Daenerys raised a brow looking at him.
He nodded. "Aye, their bows or any other weapons will have a harder time finding their mark at night. It'll be safer for us."
The corner of her lips twitched faintly. "Then we fly for Dragonstone." Her eyes turned to Lord Momford. "But first, I trust you have a sept within your walls, my Lord?"