Sansa felt her shoulders loosen for perhaps the first time in years. She stared at her brother, he was cradling a bowl of warm soup in his hands. "I wasn't sure you would come."
"You are my sister. Where else would I go the moment I was free to come?" Jon's eyes were the familiar wells of quiet sorrow from childhood, only it was deeper now. But then they'd all faced horror since then. "I would have come sooner if I could."
Sansa looked at her brother. "How is it that you are free to come?"
"I am no longer a member of the Night's Watch." He looked at her, weighing his words. "I died, and I was brought back."
She wished she didn't know exactly why she believed him instantly. "I see, will they call for your return?"
"No?" Jon seemed to frown ever so slightly, clearly not expecting the easy acceptance of his apparent death and resurrection.
That was good. "What do you plan on doing?"
"You mean what are we planning. Father's ghost would come back to kill me if I didn't protect you." He gave a look at the walls of the Lord's solar of Winterfell they were currently sitting in. "Though I'm not sure you need my help."
Her lips twitched ever so slightly. "It's been an interesting month." She turned solemn as her eyes went back to the fire. "Do you remember when we were children? When father let us roast nuts and sit on the rug in here."
"Aye, and Old Nan would send up hot cider and he'd tell us tales of our ancestors." Jon's face was wistful.
Sansa had always been more interested in mother's tales of the south. How foolish she'd been, in so many ways. "We were happy then."
"We never should have left." Jon's voice was rough, a deep timber so similar to their father's.
Sansa felt the same emotion. The ache of past regrets. "Don't you wish we could go back to the day we left. I want to scream at myself, don't go, you idiot."
"How could we have known?" Jon asked, the sorrow still in his voice. It was as good as saying he thought the same as well.
Which she regretted more than her stupidity in wanting to go south. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. I wish I could change everything."
"We were children." He protested, an easy defence of her.
Sansa huffed, warmth suffusing her bones as she sat here besides her brother. "I was awful, just admit it."
"You were occasionally awful. But I'm sure I couldn't have been grateful, always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played." Jon gently joked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
She felt soft as she felt the freedom to tease, yet needing the answer all the same. "Can you forgive me?"
"Nothing to forgive." He replied so easily as if childhood hurts and insults had been nothing.
Sansa let her voice firm ever so slightly, her affection and love for her brother suffusing it. "Forgive me." And this time she insisted.
"Alright, alright I forgive you." He smiled then, and it was like the years fell away. Even if for a few moments.
She held out her hand, taking his and squeezing gently. "Thank you." Sansa swallowed as she considered the situation she was in. The precarious knife's edge she sat on, death and ruin on either side should she fall.
Jon clearly saw the change in mood. "How do you plan to hold Winterfell?"
"Don't you mean we?" His news of White Walkers and terrors beyond the wall seemed far away from the warmth and safety of the room.
He gave her a kind look of understanding. "Aye, how do you think we can hold Winterfell?"
Sansa looked at the fire. "We need the Lords of the North to acknowledge House Stark as Wardens once more. And we have no great victory to rally support from." She tipped her head up. "But we will not lose our home again. It is ours, yours, mine, Arya's, Rickon's and Bran's wherever they are."
"Do you have an army? Support? I only know the rumors that a god turned House Bolton to ash." Jon looked at her clearly hoping for some sort of explanation.
She stood, still facing the fire. The heat licking at her. "The side of the heart tree exploded, a woman and a man fell out. Roose thought them old gods come as blessings on the eve of his victory." How to describe what happened after? "The woman regained consciousness rapidly. She was worried for the man. She feared their travel from the realm of gods had damaged him. Roose ordered Maester Wolkan to attend to them, he also ordered for a feast to be prepared. The woman was quiet….when she was not with her male companion she asked questions, but was polite. On her third day Roose took her personally on a tour of the grounds. Something happened in the courtyard."
Jon didn't interrupt, just silently listened. His brow furrowed in a deep frown.
"I believe Roose had begun to doubt whether she was god or merely a charlatan. She wasn't, she is one of the old gods. Whatever was said she took insult. The guards in the yard, their heads snapped where they stood without being touched." Sansa had been looking down from the window when it had started. "It was fast. It took her an hour to clear Winterfell of the Bolton's. Just an hour. Those who survived have sworn loyalty to House Stark or agreed to go to the wall. The very ground shook with her displeasure."
Jon nodded. "Has her companion awoken?"
"No, but Maester Wolken is optimistic." Sansa felt her fingers want to shake. "The name she's given is Daisy Jonson. She stands guard over her companion, spends time in the yard with the men but is rarely without some tome from our library."
Jon spoke then. "What does she want?"
"Her companion to be safe, cared for. In exchange for shelter, care of the Maester and food she has agreed to protect Winterfell."
He gave a slow nod. "Is it possible the White Walkers are what have called her here?"
"Possibly? The only people I trust here are Brienne, Podric, and Theon." She held her hand out resting it on his shoulder. "He's not the same man who betrayed Rob."
Jon stood. "No, he wouldn't be if you could speak of him and trust together." He frowned. "Do you think these gods would help us in the long night to come? If we had a god to stand against the Walkers…" He didn't need to explain that it would mean hope.
"I could send for her, whether she comes or not would be of her own will." Sansa paused, she didn't know how to explain the unease playing host to a being of such power left her. But then it was clear she didn't have to. Jon's solemn face was drawn in such a way that the weariness and caution were written in the lines of his face.
She gave a nod and stepped to the door. Opening it she looked at the guard, one of the boy's who had once served house Bolton but now served her. "Send word to her Holiness that if she is amenable to it, I would be honored by her presence tonight."
"Right away M'Lady." He dipped his head sharply and then vanished into the shadows of the hall. It was late, and she'd ordered for only the areas in use to be lit. Winter was coming and they could not afford to waste what supplies they had. Especially when their position was so tenuous.
Jon poured three cups of the warmed wine. "You'd think the Night's Watch would at least make a good ale. I think they ruined ale for me for a while."
"Unfortunate." Sansa wondered at how minor that was. Such a little thing. But it was comforting. "How did you come to be Lord Commander?"
His eyes were so sad. "Very well, but I wish to know how you came to be here as well."
Sansa had stayed brief, spending little time on the horror and pain. She knew Jon had done the same, but the pain, loss and trials they'd both faced was unvarnished and hard. It was...like pulling poison from a wound. The quiet peace couldn't have lasted. There was a knock on the door.
They both turned. Sansa braced herself, and was pleased her voice at least came out strong. "Come in."
The door was opened by a guard who was clearly in some awe of the person/god walking into the solar.
Sansa found that for a god, Daisy as she called herself, was surprisingly human appearing. She didn't look like a Northerner. Her features looked more similar to those of traders from the east, Yi Ti perhaps, or even further. Especially about the eyes and nose. She was certainly a striking woman. If Daisy had bothered with her appearance perhaps even a beauty in a royal court. The ill fitting men's clothing, braid, and general air of barely put togetherness prevented that from being the case here and now.
Sansa stood. "We're honored you could come."
"A pleasure Lady Stark." Daisy's eyes stayed on Jon for a long minute. It was like she was weighing him, and then her eyes were back on Sansa.
Sansa let her court mask fall into place. "May I present my brother, Jon Snow, former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"Your Holiness." Jon gave a stiff bow.
Daisy held out her hand. "Please, call me Daisy. Both of you." Her lips twitched ever so slightly. "Your last name is Snow not Stark?"
"I'm a bastard." Jon, the idiot, brandished that like it wasn't something that could be taken as an insult.
Sansa examined Daisy. She had been so busy with trying to keep all of the Winterfell from instantly being retaken by someone she hadn't properly spoken with the other woman since the first few days after the Bolton's had been slaughtered. The easy brush off of a title was new. She also noticed that Daisy's body language didn't change at the new information.
"Ah." Her head tilted slightly before her focus returned to Sansa once more. "I'm unsure of your manners so I apologize if it's rude to ask. But why did you invite me?"
Sansa gestured to the open seat by the fire. "My brother brings grave tidings from beyond the Wall. Tidings we believe may concern you and your arrival." She barely kept from swallowing at the suddenly sharp eyes of the god. "Of course it is only a guess as we know little of how you came to be here."
"I see." She looked at Jon then, and there was the slightest tinge of hope to her. "It wasn't possibly a giant metal bird? Possibly one that vanished or appeared from nowhere?"
Jon took that in stride somehow. "I've never heard of something of that nature. My sister is referring to the White Walkers. They have returned to this realm and Winter Is Coming."
"What's a White Walker?" Daisy took the seat though, her face was interested as she looked at Jon.
Jon sat across from the god and spoke. His voice full and serious. "They are old beings of magic. White skin, blue eyes, their bodies are almost skeletal. They can bring the dead back, at this moment they are building an army of the dead. The only things that can kill them are fire, valyrian steel and dragonglass."
"Wait, magic ice zombies?" Her voice pitched up in surprise.
Jon's shoulders actually physically relaxed ever so slightly in relief at her recognizing the description. "Aye, I've never heard them called that. But they're real and they're coming with their army."
"How intelligent are they?" Daisy asked slowly.
He replied promptly. "They can still swing a sword, beat down a door, find and attack their enemies. But the dead are nearly mindless. The Others though, I'd say they're as intelligent as men. Their army is ever growing, a hundred thousand strong at least."
"Well fuck." Daisy leaned back in her chair and didn't seem to register the surprise at her vulgarity from either Sansa or Jon. She brushed some stray hairs behind her ear. Her voice was nearly a mumble. "It had to be fucking ice zombies." She blinked and then looked at them. "I hate to tell you I'm not here to help you with your White Walkers."
Sansa felt a thrum of fear. "Do you require our aid to achieve your goal then?"
"I…" Daisy frowned, but her eyes were clear as she looked at Sansa. "I have not been here long, but if I understand the situation correctly your world is at war. The Boltons were monsters who turned on their own side in the civil war leaving your family in ruins. This region is called the North and is divided and leaderless." Her voice was blunt as she spoke the truth, it wasn't pretty or even deep. But it was true.
Sansa's fingers would have trembled if she'd let them. "The North has served House Stark for thousands of years. They will do so again."
"Your position is weak, you need to rebuild what is essentially a country from rubble." Daisy didn't sound dismissive as she spoke. "Which leaves me." She stared at them. "Until Fitz wakes I'm trapped here. Even after he wakes up it will take him time to return us back to our home. Time and resources. And as you know I'm not familiar with your world. But I can tell you're certainly a better option than the Boltons were." Her lips pulled up in disgust at the mention of the Boltons.
Sansa's fingers tightened in the folds of her dress. "Are you offering your aid?"
"In exchange for protection and whatever Fitz needs to get us home." Daisy's eyes were bright and intelligent. "I'll help with the ice zombies or White Walkers or whatever they are. Though I'm not sure how useful my powers will be against them."
"What supplies would your companion need?" Sansa could not agree if the cost was similar to the cost rumored to be demanded by the red flame god R'hllor.
Daisy actually seemed to consider that. "Metal? Just mechanical bits and pieces? Really I'm not exactly up to date on how to build doorways to other realities." She shrugged. "Fitz would know."
"Will it require blood sacrifice?" Sansa asked, her spine as straight as it could be.
Daisy blanched. "No!" She leaned back slightly. "No. It's not magic, Fitz doesn't use magic, he's...well I don't think you'd understand the word for it. The closest you have are blacksmiths I think?"
"Like the Smith." Jon spoke.
Daisy's brow furrowed slightly. "In a way yes. But if you give him the tools and materials he needs, I will help you secure the North and deal with these White Walkers." Daisy held out her hand.
"Then I would be glad of your help, and to provide what your companion needs." Sansa felt the first flutterings of hope as she sat in a room with her brother and a god willing to aid them. She reached forward and took the god's hand and shook. It felt deceptively human.
Daisy's lips twitched up. "Well in that case I should explain how I can help." She straightened slightly. "I'm something like one of your knights, but also a bit like an assassin. I've commanded men, assisted in building up intelligence networks as well as military organizations and I guess the closest you would have would be breaking codes."
Jon spoke then, which was fortunate because Sansa was too busy trying to not cry in relief that they might actually be able to do this. Instead Jon ignored all common sense and went and asked as if the woman wasn't a god. "Your powers, will they work against the White Walkers?"
"I don't know." Daisy actually picked up the glass of wine set aside for her and sipped from it. "It depends on what magic bullshit they function under. But I doubt I can fight an army a hundred thousand strong, on my own, successfully without significant risk of it doing more harm than good."
Jon's eyes widened slightly at her assumption she could take the whole army of the dead on her own. "What harm would it do?"
"My powers are dangerous at that scale. It's...at a certain point control isn't possible." Daisy's face twitched slightly, her eyes darkening. "And you would not thank me for being your pet monster. It would leave you vulnerable and weak when I leave."
Sansa's eyes narrowed, she understood the last part well enough. They had to be tested and proven outside of this god's support when she left, or any stability would vanish the moment she left. It'd be the same as when the Targaryens lost their dragons. However that didn't mean there wasn't use for destruction on a much smaller scale than an army a hundred thousand strong. "But you could take a single castle safely enough?"
"I could turn it to rubble." Daisy's eyes had never really left her, even when Jon spoke.
Sansa gave a slight nod. Weakness meant death, but any human was nothing before a god. There was no point in false pretenses. Besides, Daisy clearly knew at least in part how precarious the situation was. "The dead may be coming but unless we've unified the North before they get here we'll have no hope. Then better we die in you unleashing your powers your Holiness than be turned into wights for the Night King's army."
"How do we do that?" Jon asked. "We have no army."
Sansa's chip tipped up. "We have our name, we have a power vacuum and the advantage of being the only ones aware of what the situation is. Without a battle to unify the Lords of the North they must choose us as their Warden once more. We must call a Lord's Moot. They will name their Warden of the North, and we'll ensure they choose correctly."
"Surprisingly democratic." Daisy was looking at her with what might be approval. "How does that involve me destroying a castle though?"
Sansa stood and stepped to the map of the North that lay on the table. "Men follow where they believe power resides. So we must ensure they believe that is with us. The Bolton's betrayed us, so they must be visibly removed. Their wealth, stores, arms all taken as retribution to house Stark." She looked at Daisy. "Could you with the aid of enough men do this?"
"You mean to raze the Dreadfort to the ground." Jon rose and moved beside her.
Daisy stood, stepping over to the map and clearly picking up the dot labeled as the Dreadfort. "Depends on how much you want me to bring back from it. I can't magic the loot from one place to another. I suppose they'd have the carts there. So however many men you think that part would require. But I can do that."
"Jon, you have an army of Wildlings loyal to you." Sansa looked at her brother.
He shook his head. "They don't serve me."
"They owe you their lives." She looked at the map. "If they aid us they will have a united North to fight the White Walkers they are fleeing. And I'll give them half of the Bolton's lands in payment for services rendered. So long as they do not turn against House Stark they would keep their knees unbent. Would they fight for that?"
Jon's face was serious, the lines he was too young to bare deeper than they had any right to be. But he nodded. "Aye, they'd fight for that."
"Then you'll need to ride for where they're camped by the Wall. As you ride, send word I will take any deserters or men in hiding from Stannis's army. House Baratheon and House Stark have long been allies. Their King may be dead but they can still serve an honorable life here." Sansa eyed the map, the many letters of Roose's she'd read came to mind. What she knew of the state of the Lords of the North. "Once you have the Wildlings send those who cannot fight here. But take the army along the western coast. Drive out the last of the Ironborn. Down to Deepwood Motte. Once you've aided Lord Glover in securing his land, raise his banners, as well as any banners you can between the Wall and here."
Jon leaned against the table. "I'm tired of fighting." He looked at her, his eyes so like their father's. "It's all I've done since I left." He closed his eyes, seeming to let his decision settle over him. "Without the North we can't stop the dead, we'll all die no matter how far we run. I'll do it." He frowned at the map. "But why raise the banners after riding the coast of the Ironborn? And with her Holiness and I gone Winterfell will be vulnerable."
"I have Brienne, and enough men to hold till your Holiness returns." Sansa looked at Daisy. "If you travel quickly it should be half a moon's turn."
Daisy looked thoughtful. "I can do it, but you don't have to call me your Holiness. I'm not a god, even if it's probably best we don't tell everyone that."
Sansa stared at the woman in disbelief. She couldn't help it. "You... that is to say many of the men have seen your powers. You have just agreed to destroy a castle more or less on your own."
"I didn't say I was human." Daisy shrugged. "I don't have holy abilities, I don't answer prayer, I don't hear it even if someone did try to pray to me. I can't see into men's souls or any of that. I can tell when a person is lying, but that's just because I can feel their heart beat change. But I can't bless or curse anyone, perform miracles or any of it."
Sansa's mouth felt dry as she tried to find a way to express how ridiculous the idea that this god was anything but a god was. Her eyes flicked lightly to Jon's equally baffled expression, before returning to the woman. "What would you have us call you then?"
"Daisy is fine, but if you have to use a title your closest equivalent to what I am would be 'Ser' I think."
Sansa gave a slight nod. "Very well Ser." She turned back to the map and pointed to Moat Cailin. "Roose has a garrison of Frey and Bolton men here. There's just straddlers and roving reavers and some still holled up in Glover's land. I may not know the specifics of war but I've seen Roose's plans. With Stannis defeated his next priority was securing the Moat and using it as a tool to subdue more of the North."
"Aye, a large force will be needed to take the Moat." Jon's face drew as he looked at the map. "What armies can we call on?"
Sansa's lips thinned. "Of the Bolton forces perhaps a thousand will take Stark banners. That and your wildling force is all we have without asking for aid. A request that without a larger army we will not be given on our name alone."
"That and the Glover host won't be enough for taking the Moat." He paused then, his eyes looked up at the god. "Unless you are willing to help us take it as well Ser?"
Daisy looked thoughtful as she studied the map. Her eyes easily flicking between names with clear understanding. "I will aid you. But the more I do for you the weaker your position will be when I leave."
"Which is why we won't be depending on your services so completely for this." Sansa's eyes narrowed as she pointed to Barrowtown. "We demand that house Dustin sends their hoard to join in the effort of ridding ourselves of the Boltons and Freys."
Jon looked at her sharply. "Lady Dustin holds no love for House Stark. Likely even has Frey and Bolton men in Barrowtown."
"And she was the first to recognize House Bolton." Sansa replied without flinching. "House Dustin must visibly pay for their support of the Boltons, however they did not aid in the Red Wedding. As such we demand the use of their men as well as a concession of fifty miles of land to House Cerwyn, a hundred head of horse, and ten thousand gold dragons. We'll have to make similar demands on House Ryswell. If our demands are met, they shall be forgiven for their support of House Bolton. Any House that willingly swore to House Bolton must face penalties or we will be seen as weak. It will also give us the men needed to take the Moat and secure the North from the west"
Jon shook his head. "We don't have the men to enforce such a demand."
"If we don't we'll never secure the North. The North won't follow a weak House."
Jon's teeth seemed to grit as he considered her words. "I can secure the western coast and Glover support with it. But I don't see how the rest of this can work. Not with our current numbers."
"Once the western coast is secure the Lords of the North will want any Freys gone. If we lead they should follow. And Lady Dustin isn't an idiot. If we succeed in truly regaining the North, she can't afford to be in our disfavor." Sansa looked to the god. "However I do not have a head for war. What would be your advice Ser?"
Daisy looked at the map. "You're right to start acting as a ruler. And the more small victories you gain the more support you'll find. But you'll need to form your council soon. Your brother and I are not enough. People who know how to handle the politics of all this. Your plan sounds smart. And you're right, you cannot leave traitors unpunished."
"And besides this effort to grow our forces and rid ourselves of invaders. What advice would you give for the rest?" Sansa knew her brother would have more to say once it was only them. But she needed whatever she could to convince him. And this god seemed to favor her suggestions.
Daisy met her gaze. "As your rule grows it will become more and more important that you have people organizing and running sections of your government for you. Having a support structure in place will keep everything from collapsing later."
"She's not wrong." Jon agreed. "I had Sam, a few of the men. But not enough in leadership, in the old guard. And I paid for it."
Daisy picked back up from him. "By the time you have your Moot you'll need a system in place. Likely sooner, I don't understand the politics of your kingdom yet. And your brother may have the right of it that demanding fealty and reparation for disloyalty isn't possible."
"Then we have eight moons." Sansa looked at the map. She had eight moons to gain control of the North. It was less than it would have taken to gather an army and take back those same lands. It had to be done. She picked up the box of pieces Roose had used to mark his men and enemies on the large map. "Jon how long do you believe it will take to secure the west down to the Motte?"
He looked at the map. "It depends on what resistance we find. But we'll move quick, two maybe three moons." Jon's mouth tightened. "I don't like the idea of leaving you alone for so long."
"We don't have a choice if we mean to succeed. And we'll never be safe if we don't secure the North. It's our home, without it they'll never stop coming for us. Once we have House Glover and the Dreadfort is nothing but rubble we can decide on House Dustin." Sansa looked at the map. They were going to take back their home.