Daenerys greeted Yara Greyjoy alone but for two Unsullied guards. She had heard that the Lady of the Iron Islands was fiercely independent and the last thing that Dany wanted was for Lady Greyjoy to think that she relied on a man for her power. Her power was hers alone - and it would be the same in Westeros, once she had won back the continent.
Lady Greyjoy herself came with a small retinue but boisterous retinue and Dany noticed that, like herself, she had struggled to find companions who were women. Dany wondered whether that had more to do with the lack of educated, politically inclined women available to them, rather than a dislike for the entire gender. Dany had discovered that, actually, when given the opportunity, she rubbed along well with another ambitious woman. Sansa had been her prime example. Although she had initially thought that things would be rocky, Sansa had proved herself to be ambitious for the North, rather than solely for herself, and she was also witty, clever and extraordinarily loyal to her betrothed.
It had been Sansa's idea, in fact, to invite Yara Greyjoy to become an ally, an ingenious one that Dany wished she had thought of first. The powerful women across the realm had to ally together, excepting Cersei, of course. Daenerys would have to be desperate - and foolish - to ally with her. She and Sansa had been recently speaking about Margaery Tyrell but Daenerys was going back on forth on the idea.
Yara came close, her homely features and simple clothing almost making Daenerys mistake her for a servant girl. She wore no gown, but the breeches and vest of a man, much like Lady Brienne. She wore a rich cloak, however, and the sword at her side was very fine. "Lady Greyjoy," Daenerys greeted with a warm smile. "It is an honour to greet you."
"Your grace," Lady Greyjoy said deferentially and she bowed her head low, though her back did not bend. Daenerys did not show her displeasure on her face. This meeting would convince Yara Greyjoy that the correct way was to bend the knee and reap the benefits. "Your invitation was much welcome."
"I trust you left the Iron Islands in a prosperous state."
Lady Greyjoy turned to her companions, notably a tall, dark-haired one who smirked at her. "Always, your grace," she said, her tongue between her teeth as she met Daenerys' eyes with a lusty gaze. Dany had to keep down her smile as she informed the lady where they would be sharing their meeting later that afternoon, after she and her men had eaten and washed up. "Looking forward to it, your grace."
Dany watched the Ironislanders walk away, led by one of Dany's two guards to where Sansa had allowed them rooms within the keep. "How interesting," she muttered, glancing at her remaining guard, who remained quiet. She smiled and walked back into the keep. She would need to eat herself before the meeting.
XXX
When Sansa received the news from Queen Daenerys that Yara had agreed to ally with them, in return for unrivalled support for Yara as Lady of the Iron Islands and various other political gambits, Sansa had left her book and gone to search for Yara immediately. Of course, the alliance was the most important aspect of Yara's trip to Winterfell but Sansa wanted to speak with the girl about her brother, whom Sansa had loved as her own brother, and she felt that Yara deserved to receive the news from Sansa, rather than anybody else, of what had happened to him. For that reason, she had asked Daenerys not to mention Theon's terrible death at the hands of Ramsay.
She found Yara in the Great Hall, with her men. Sansa was rather surprised to find that she was surrounded by men. Very few women sat by her side. Sansa had assumed that the renowned Lady of the Iron Islands would be surrounded by many other strong-willed women but Sansa supposed that they were difficult to find, especially in a rather primitive culture, like the one of the Iron Islands.
Sansa wanted to be surrounded by strong women, as Lady of Winterfell. She would call the women from Bear Island to stand by her side. She refused to be one woman in a world of men, especially now that their monarch was going to be a queen.
"Lady Sansa," Yara said, standing when she saw her. Sansa smiled. Yara still had laughter at her lips, the remnant of a joke she had been sharing before she noticed Sansa. Clearly she was a woman who thrived in a man's world. Sansa had heard rumours that Lady Yara also thrived in a man's position in the bed chamber. She put such thoughts out of her mind.
"Lady Yara, it is a great pleasure to see you here," Sansa said truthfully. "May we speak privately?" Yara agreed with an inclination of her head. She said some parting words to her men before following Sansa out of the room, unfollowed by any of her men. Sansa discussed idle things as they walked to Sansa's solar, the weather on the Iron Islands compared with Winterfell, the journey, by boat and then by foot and horse. Yara made for a pleasant companion in conversation. She was abrupt, yes, but seemed eminently truthful.
They reached Sansa's solar quickly. She could hear Tyrion in their chambers so she closed the door that adjoined the two. Tyrion was preparing for a war meeting with Daenerys. Now that Ramsay was dead, it was time to move out, towards the Reach and the next kingdom for Dany to take back. Sansa's handmaiden poured them each some wine and Sansa raised her glass to Yara, who tapped hers against Sansa.
"I wanted to speak to you about something specific, Lady Yara." Yara's face showed interest. As much as Yara had come to ally with Daenerys, Sansa had been hoping that the lady would be willing to ally with Winterfell specifically too, to begin some trade agreements, as there had been once before. However, Sansa would come to that later. This conversation was far more important. "I have news of your brother, Theon."
Yara froze. "I thought he was dead," she said in low tones. Sansa could not read her eyes.
Sansa nodded. "I'm afraid he is, though perhaps not in the way you expected. I would like to tell you about his last months."
"He became more creature than human," Yara told Sansa and this time Sansa could see the grief in her eyes. "I tried to save him, tried to take him from Ramsay but he refused to come."
Sansa nodded sadly. "After you tried to do that, he remained with Ramsay. He had gained some trust and Ramsay let him wander around the castle more. I don't know how much time passed between your attempt and my arrival at Winterfell, but Theon was still Ramsay's creature when I married Ramsay." Yara's eyes narrowed. She had surely heard of Sansa's marriage, though Sansa truthfully did not know how much news of it had spread outside of the North.
"My marriage was miserable, as I am sure you can imagine," Sansa continued, unwilling to go into details with this woman, who was virtually a stranger. "I spoke with Theon most days. I distrusted him at first, of course, because I thought he had killed my brothers. He had betrayed my oldest brother." Yara's face was tight though she did not speak. "But, eventually, I started to see how much he had suffered since he had betrayed Robb and, one day, while Ramsay had left to fight Lord Stannis' troops, Theon and I escaped."
Yara blinked with surprise. "He escaped?"
Sansa nodded slowly. "We escaped by jumping from the walls of Winterfell. We fled through the woods. I would never have survived without him. He kept me from curling up and choosing to die. He told me stories to keep me awake and keep from succumbing to the cold. It was a few days of this awful journey when we heard horses and Queen Daenerys was there, with my first husband, Tyrion Lannister. Tyrion took us both into Daenerys' camp and protected us. He gave us food and warmth and, when Theon requested it, a horse for him to return to the Iron Islands."
Yara began to look reluctant, as though she did not want to hear what came next. "I didn't want him to leave," Sansa continued, looking down at her lap. "I wanted us to stay together but I understood that he wanted to return to you, to help you. I didn't hear from him again. Ramsay reappeared here about a week ago.
"His man held his knife to my throat and he pulled Theon's head out of a bag to hurt me more." Yara gasped, a shuttering sound. Her eyes flickered shut. "I don't know how long Theon had been with Ramsay again or how long he had had to suffer before Ramsay killed him. I only know that he is at peace now."
"Dead by the hand of Ramsay," Yara said bitterly, a few moments later. "After all he suffered, he was not even allowed to return to his home." She looked up, her eyes wet. "What did you do with his - his body?"
Sansa did not say that they had never found his body. "We buried - him in our crypts, with other members of our family."
Yara did not smile. "I suppose that is fitting. He had hardly lived on the Iron Islands at all."
Sansa nodded. "I wanted to honour him as best I could. He saved my life."
"Thank you for telling me," Yara said, her voice empty of emotion. Sansa impulsively reached across the table for Yara's hand. Yara looked down at their enclosed hands, her lips quirking upwards just slightly. "I suppose that we must work together, now," she said, "for Theon."
Sansa smiled. "For Theon."
XXX
Brienne awoke slowly, panicking for only a moment before she remembered where she was. In her dream, she had been on Tarth, running the island with the pup she had loved as a child. She had dived from cliffs and run up mountains, sailed around the island like a pirate and ridden her horse until the sun had set and she was too exhausted to return home. Then, in her dream, she had closed her eyes to sleep, just as she had woken up in this world, where she found Jaime a few inches away from her, sleeping sweetly, his lips apart and his breathing soft.
It had been a week since they were married. In most respects, little had changed. They were still together in this room. Jaime was still not allowed to leave, while Brienne was. They did exercise together and Brienne would leave to spar with somebody when she felt her skin between to itch. Jaime had got used to that now and was happy to hear her recollections of duels, especially those that she won, which was most. It evoked a curious lust in him and Brienne often found herself tumbled into bed after she was finished.
The sex was the part that had changed, of course. Before, they had kissed but little more. Now that they were wed, they had broken down any such barrier and lay together more often than most wedded couples, according to Jaime. When he was jovial, he would joke that, even if he could leave the room, he would not for the simple pleasure of being able to have Brienne whenever the mood took them. And Jaime was often jovial.
Brienne had never expected the marital bed to be so satisfying. Her septa had told her all sorts of lies that Jaime had, one by one, struck down as falsehoods. He was a very generous man, though Brienne had none to compare him to. For all she knew, Jaime was very poor and selfish. But Brienne thought not. She had been in war camps. She had heard men speak of the things they liked in the bedroom and none of them had ever particularly spoken of the things that they did with their own mouths, that Jaime professed to love to do to her.
Gradually, Brienne's nerves about sex began to disappear. Jaime was kind and soft and did whatever Brienne pleased. There was little doubt in Brienne's mind that she had been thoroughly blessed by the gods when she was given Jaime Lannister.
"What are you thinking about?" she heard come from Jaime's mouth, his voice gravelly with sleep. His eyes were lidded and his hair a mess as he looked upon her. Brienne had to smile. He was an attractive sight at any time of the day, but she thought that her favourite version of Jaime was this one: just awoken and face clear of any thoughts or emotions.
Rather than answer his question, Brienne bent to kiss him on the lips, softly and lingeringly, the way he kissed her when she returned from sparring. She pulled away, her eyes tracing his face. At the corners of his eyes were wrinkles and the hair at his beard was greying in a way it had not been when they first met, but he was absolutely perfect and absolutely hers. "What was that for?" he asked.
Brienne grinned and swung her body over his, enjoying the shocked noise that emerged from him. He smirked up at her, green eyes narrowed and dark. "For waking up," she responded, before leaning down and bestowing upon him another kiss - and another, and another.
XXX
Daenerys felt almost shy as she crept into the corridor where she knew that Jon Snow's chambers were. She was meeting with her advisors and she wanted him to be one of them too. His experience in the Night's Watch was one factor but the trust she had automatically felt in him was another. She had felt a similar way when she had first spoken with Tyrion, a sort of trust that she couldn't explain, and he had turned out to be very loyal indeed.
She had been told that Jon Snow spent his early evenings, after dinner, reading with his younger brother and often his sister, if she were not with her husband to be. His chamber was pointed out to her by one of the guards who had accompanied her. Guards generally knew whose chamber was whose, in case of an emergency.
Knocking twice, Daenerys tried not to fidget as she waited for the door to open. She was generally not so nervous when she approached anyone with a request. She was the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms and she had a right to ask for whatever pleased her. However, Jon was different. She knew that he was an honest man and, provided he found her request honourable, he would fulfil it for her. What Daenerys wanted was that he wanted to join because he wanted to - help her. Daenerys wasn't sure what the right word was. She wanted more than that he wanted to serve her. She had thousands of men willing to serve her. She wanted him to want to for the simple reason of wanting to, not out of a duty or a loyalty, but out of a like for her, a longing for her presence, out of an attraction, perhaps.
She put those thoughts aside. They only made her more nervous.
Jon arrived at his door himself. Daenerys subdued her smile, wondering when the last time she had opened her own door was. Jon Snow was a simple man, with a bastard's roots and tendencies. "Your grace," he said, surprise lacing his Northern accent. Daenerys smiled.
"I have come to ask a favour, Jon," she said. When she had asked what to call him, unsure of the protocol for a bastard of a lord, who had once been the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch but was no longer, Jon had told her to simply call him by his first name. Despite Daenerys' wish that he do the same for her, he continually called her 'your grace'. It irritated Daenerys as it reminded her of the difference in their stations.
"A favour, your grace?"
Daenerys inclined her head. "May I come in?"
Jon glanced behind him before he allowed her entrance. She left her men at the door. If Sansa Stark could spend her nights in the chambers of a man without too much judgement, Daenerys could step inside a man's chambers for a few moments without a chaperone.
"Who is it?" a small voice asked from the bed. Daenerys had to smile at the sight of Rickon Stark's head peeking out from the covers. She smiled at the young boy. She had not often seen him since his arrival at Winterfell but, when she asked Jon for details of him, he was always reported to be well.
"It's just me, Rickon," she said softly. "I'm sorry to disturb your sleep."
"I don't sleep much," the boy said. Daenerys wondered how old he was. She glanced at Jon at his statement and saw him looking at his half-brother with pity. "There are people chasing me in my dreams."
"He sleeps with me," Jon said gruffly. "It's the only way he'll get any sleep at all. He told me that the only way he used to sleep was with Osha."
Daenerys felt guilt bubble in her stomach. If only she had been able to track down Ramsay earlier, before he had killed the woman who had so aptly cared for the youngest Stark. "I won't disturb you then," Daenerys said, meeting Jon's eyes and turning back towards the door. Her wish for Jon's presence and advice was not as important as Rickon's wellbeing.
His hand caught her arm, causing her to start and look up. He had probing eyes. "What did you want, your grace?" he asked, his gravelly tone and the feel of his hand on her bicep sending shivers down her spine.
She cleared her throat. "I only wished to ask you to join my council. I would value your advice, but I do not wish to take you from your brother. If you wish to accept, we could have lunch together tomorrow and you could give me your opinion on some things."
Jon smiled slightly, as much happiness as Dany ever saw on his face. "I will see you at lunch tomorrow then, your grace."
Dany found herself smiling too, almost subconsciously. "My solar will be waiting, at midday." Jon inclined his head. "Oh, and Jon?" He hummed, raising his eyebrows. "Please, call me Daenerys."
"Of course, your grace," he responded smoothly, a sparkle in her eyes. Shaking her head in amusement, Dany left, glancing back only once, to see Jon stroking back his brother's hair.
XXX
Sansa arrived in the courtyard in a state of shock, Jon at her heels. The sentries had received news of an approaching army and had brought Sansa up to speed right away. Surely enough, Sansa and Jon had watched the steady though small trail of men coming towards Winterfell from the ramparts. Immediately, they had called their men to action, Jon going to inform the queen of the goings on and Sansa sending various messengers around the castle, before meeting in the courtyard a few moments later.
The army was growing closer. According to Jon's more practised eyes, there could hardly be a thousand men. Daenerys' troops would overwhelm them easily. It was so suspicious that, though they did not call off their men along the walls, armed with crossbows, Sansa and Jon felt certain that they would be allies, though whose men they were was a mystery.
"Perhaps they are from Riverrun," Sansa suggested. She had written to her uncle the Blackfish many times but had received no response. The last thing she had heard was that no news was getting into or out of the castle, the whole area under a Frey siege. Even so, there was always a way. Perhaps her uncle had sent her these thousand, as a token of family allegiance or as a suggestion to Daenerys that he would be on her side, should she come and take Riverrun.
Or perhaps it was not her uncle at all. Lord Baelish was still in the Reach and Sansa supposed that he considered them to be allies, though Sansa herself considered him to be among the lowest scum of men, with too much thought to the political consequences of his actions to care about the people they hurt along the way. She clenched her jaw, praying to as many gods as she could think of that these men were not of the Reach.
Soon enough, the flags became clearer, their colours revealing themselves to be blue and pink. Sansa narrowed her eyes. She was not as knowledgeable as she could have been on family sigils. It was not considered a worthwhile education for a girl to know the sigils outside of her kingdom, though she knew many from her time in King's Landing and from visits at Winterfell. This sigil she did know, though it had never appeared at court, nor was it a Northern flag.
That flag was the sigil of Tarth.
And, upon the horses that led the procession, was a huge man that could only have been Brienne's father and, next to him, a tall man, one Sansa recognised as a boy she had known once, someone she had not believed had survived the events that had led to both her and Tyrion's fleeing from King's Landing: Podrick Payne.
