Wyman Manderly was barely holding his tongue as he entered the great hall to break his fast. It'd been masterfully done, but that lady knight or possible assassin, the one given the seat of honor, had neatly aided Lady Stark from answering questions at dinner. His eyes landed on Lady Stark, already at the head table, a book open before her as she broke her own fast. He smiled as he approached. "Lady Stark."
"Lord Manderly." She looked up as he approached and took his seat from the night before. Her eyes flicked to the book in front of her. "I was just reading about the construction of glasshouses."
He chuckled as he sat, a bowl of porridge filled with nuts and fruits was set in front of him. "Are you thinking of building more, my Lady?"
"Yes, we have had a long summer and it's ending. Anyone with eyes can see that. A summer this long will be followed by a long winter, one we are ill prepared for." Lady Stark turned a page in her book.
Wyman noted the book of ledgers, with exacting handwriting in it. It was a sign the girl had a good head on her shoulders. "War will come from the south once word reaches them the Boltons have fallen. Winter or no winter."
"A southeron army invading through the Neck in winter?" Lady Stark stared at him like he was a fool. "They have no navy large enough to threaten us, and so long as we hold the Moat only a fool would stage a land invasion of the North in winter. The Hand will be forced to offer us terms to prevent that, whether Queen Cersei approves or not. If it requires that I kneel for a season, then I will do it to give our people time to regain our strength."
His brow rose as he stared at the woman before him. "You would consent to the rule of the bastard Tommen?"
"I am willing to do what is necessary to protect the North. My brother lost it, and his losses and the Boltons have ruined us. Just preparing for winter will nearly beggar us, but it must be done or we will freeze in our castles while the small folk freeze in their huts." There was a cold fury in her tone, a steel spine.
Wyman chewed on his morning meal as he considered that. "I will be honored to help facilitate trade with Essos, and of course my men are your men. But we have enough men and the will to fight to prevent the southerners from ever taking the North."
"I would agree with you, except we have more to contend with than a normal winter." She faced him fully, her face was in that moment Ned's in the face of his duty. It forced Wyman to straighten his spine as he faced her. As she spoke it was with a certainty that was rooted deep. "Magic is returning, we all know that. Reports of magicks, dragons in the east, shadow demons in the south. But the old gods are waking too. The Long Night is here."
He paled, there could be no question she meant it. And even in White Harbor he'd heard dark rumors of magicks across the narrow sea. Not to mention in the war. Everyone knew the tale of the shadow demon said to have killed Renly Baratheon. But those were stories? "What proof do you have?"
"My brother fought them, he killed an Other. The Night's Watch is on the brink of collapse. He let the Wildlings through the gates, and they will fight with us against the dead." There was no doubt in her face, and no lie there either. "And the old gods have moved. I may have stabbed Ramsy, but the fall of house Bolton took an hour. The men who did not kneel and repent died where they stood. The Dreadfort is rubble, the earth itself opened and swallowed its halls. I'm not entirely sure what her true name is, but she's given the name Daisy Jonson."
He knew that name, the woman from the feast. "You can't mean…?"
"She came out of the face tree." Sansa's skin paled ever so slightly. "You are free to see the damage, but she came from the tree. Her power is unquestionable and she is dangerous. I understand it is difficult to believe, but it's the truth."
Manderly opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped as the subject of their conversation entered the hall, and she wasn't wearing the clothing of a dead man. Instead she looked like a weirwood, the fabric deceptively like bark, the embroidered leaves bright in the morning light. It was instinctively wrong to see a person so clearly not of the North wearing the colors and symbols of their gods. But the response of the servants and men at arms ambling through the hall was telling.
Not an eye was raised towards the woman and her garb, in fact the people showed a quiet reverence, moving out of the way without question or thought. It'd been the same last night now that he thought of it. There'd been no unhappy murmerings or looks at her place of honor at the table. And now as she returned to it there was not a single man who appeared to see it as anything but her's by right.
"Lady Stark, Lord Manderly." Daisy raised a hand in greeting as she sat. She focused on Lady Stark. "You and Fitz were right." She accepted her bowl from one of the servants. "The tree wasn't unhappy about the clothing. Which that's a weird sentence I never expected to be saying."
Lady Stark replied like that was normal. Though considering the giant direwolf sleeping by the great fire, perhaps Starks were just better at dangerous creatures. "Then you've decided."
"I'll do it. However I have a feeling I won't get much done this morning. I think one of the washer woman got me to agree to watch like a whole herd of small children. Honestly it was kind of impressive." The woman looked fairly confused at how she'd ended up in this position as she took a bite of her meal.
Wyman swallowed his scoff at the thought this, this was a god? But he held his tongue, though he intended to have answers, and proof.
"Your companion will continue his work in the maester's halls then?" Lady Stark asked.
Daisy, the would be god, shrugged slightly. "Probably? But I wouldn't be surprised if he goes poking around your smithy."
"I hope he finds it to his satisfaction." Lady Stark flipped several pages in her ledger before giving a pleased nod. "The smith survived the initial purge and has four apprentices."
Daisy winced slightly. "I'll accompany him if he does, he can be a bit…" She trailed off as her eyes snapped to the entrance of the hall. "Fitz?"
And sure enough, before Wyman could comment on the fact no one was coming into the hall other than a servant carrying one of the benches from last night out, a curly haired, and clean shaven man came jogging in. There was a nervous fluttery energy to him as he moved, eyes locked on Daisy as soon as he entered. "I figured it out!"
"Sorry." Daisy shot a look at both of them, before returning her attention to the...agitated man. "Figured out what?"
One of his hands ran through his hair as he slapped a sheet of paper down on the table. "I was w-w-wasting my time trying to establish whether th-this world is flat or round. The time and scope of trying to discover tha-that simple fact would take me days. But then it occured to me. You can just ch-check."
"You want me to try and feel the entire realm? That's insane." Daisy was looking at her...whatever the man was to her.
Fitz scoffed. "That we know of, your abilities have gr-grown. But no, you can just go up and ch-check." He pointed upwards at the ceiling.
Daisy opened her mouth and then winced. "That's going to suck. It's fucking freezing that high up."
"You won't be up th-there long." Fitz waved off, his gaze not moving from her.
Daisy lowered her spoon. "You're going to get weird if I don't go check right now aren't you?"
"We n-n-need to know these basic things before I can even th-think of building a beacon home." He was looking at her with pure judgement.
And Daisy sighed, seemingly unaware of how tense Lady Stark had gotten at the way the man spoke to her. Instead, the woman turned to Lady Stark. "Sorry, it would seem I need to go attempt to fly very high and get very cold and wet." She stood as she spoke.
Lady Stark considered the woman for a moment. "I believe Lord Manderly and I would join you to witness this. I find myself curious about what exactly it is you are checking for."
Lord Manderly had been fascinated at the curly haired man, Fitz's, rambling as they walked towards the courtyard. The man was addled, but Wyman knew enough of the sea to at least grasp the possibilities of what he was suggesting. Though the concept that the woman before him could fly that high was ridiculous. But he followed regardless.
As they reached the courtyard, Daisy easily stripped her outer tunic off, leaving herself in just a fine white shirt from the waist up. She clapped her hands together. "Right, step back."
Lady Stark did as requested. "May you find what you wish to."
"Fingers crossed." Daisy grinned, and then dropped to a crouch, her hands open, palms towards the ground.
Wyman felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the entire courtyard fell silent. He could almost swear he saw the air beneath her hands waver. The ground beneath her cracked, denting downwards a solid inch in a perfect circle around her. And then she was gone in a burst of power that buffeted outwards as she flew upwards fast as an arrow. His head snapped backwards as he tracked her course as she vanished above the clouds. "My god."
/
Sansa noted that Fitz had taken several large steps backwards and immediately followed suit. She could tell he was waiting for the god's return. How he was alive considering how he spoke to said god she didn't know. But it was horribly clear he was far closer to her than a simple friend or dear companion. Lovers they may not be, but that hardly mattered if her regard was enough for her to ignore his tone and requests phrased like orders. And distance clearly wouldn't be an option for safety from the god if the worst came if she could damn well fly. Not that she hadn't been aware, but seeing was different than merely knowing. "How long will she be up there?"
"Not long." Fitz frowned, using one hand to shield his eyes. "It was more of a jump, she'll co-come down once she's reached the ze-zenith of it." He didn't even properly acknowledge he was speaking to her, his focus still riveted upwards.
Sansa raised a brow, he could certainly never be allowed anywhere without an escort till the servants and men were accustomed to his manner. If he failed in manners towards her, he was likely worse towards the staff. That level of rudeness would get him killed. She didn't reply however as a hurtling dark shape fell through the clouds.
The figure was hurtling towards the ground head first, arms and legs tightly pressed together as she streaked downwards like an arrow. Terror felt like it was choking her, no one could survive that. Then Daisy tucked and rolled in the air, feet over her head till she was coming down feet first, her arms held out and down. There was a great burst of...perhaps wind, but it felt more like pure pressure slamming into the ground, followed by Daisy who landed on her feet, her descent slowing from inhumanly fast to merely foolishly fast. She wobbled slightly and then tipped over onto her ass.
Daisy was breathless as she sat on the ground, face wide as she laughed. "I take it back, that was awesome." She was soaked to the bone, but excitement practically radiated from her.
"Bl-bloody ops agents." Fitz grumbled as he jogged over, holding out his hand. "Well?"
She laughed again as she accepted his hand. He easily pulled her to her feet as she replied to him. "Round, we're on a planet."
"Get a cloak." Sansa ordered a man as she realized Daisy was shivering.
Daisy grinned. "I've got it, don't worry." Her eyes closed, her brow furrowing in concentration, and then steam rose from her clothing and hair all at once. Her eyes snapped open. "That said I'm going to go change, that felt supes weird."
"How fa-f-fast did you just manipulate the vibrations in the water?" Fitz's eyes widened as he reached out catching the fabric of her shirt's sleeve, clearly feeling the temperature of it.
And then the strangest thing happened, Daisy gently brushed his hand off. But that wasn't what Sansa noticed however, it was a barely noticeable stiffening of her muscles under the fabric. If she hadn't been down to breaches, boots and a thin shirt Sansa would never have noticed. Sansa also wouldn't have noticed without years of watching her captors for the slightest change. The reaction indicated...disquiet, unease at the contact with a man who every other sign implied was as close as blood to the god.
"Our heating system went out when we were looking for you." Daisy replied with a sort of mild exasperation. "I said we got bored."
Fitz blinked. "The applications if you've ma-mastered that degree of fine control." His head tilted slightly, brows furrowing before he nodded. "That will help. We need to esta-establish now if we're in the same reality as h-home."
Sansa politely waited for Lord Manderly to finish drinking his wine, the man needed it. It wasn't everyday a person witnessed and accepted the presence of gods. "Are you prepared to assist in guarding the North from the Long Night?"
"Yes, yes of course." The man was pale as he set his wine goblet down. "If you forgive me my Lady, how do you intend to secure the North? I will of course assist." He was pained as he looked at her.
She stared at the man she did not trust, not that she trusted any but Jon, and even then it was a trust that he would not harm her intentionally, not that she could trust his actions. There was a measure of trust she felt in her sworn sword, the lady Brienne. The honorable woman was too like Sansa's father for her to ever fear hidden blades from there. But it was a short list of those she trusted in any form. "Securing the North is not what I require your assistance with."
"How so? I mean no disrespect, but I and those in my confidence had meant to find your brother Rickon and place him in Winterfell and rid ourselves of the Boltons that way." Wyman's shoulders slumped as he refilled his cup. "It shames me to admit it, but we'd thought you lost long ago my Lady."
Sansa felt the burn of that. She'd long since known that for all the loyalty the men owed her as a Stark, had long since been spent. Her rescue had become incidental long before Robb had died. The battle of the Blackwater had been her last true hope of rescue. "I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell, and this is my home." She stared at him, daring him to refute her. "I have never forgotten who I am, even if it seems my people have."
"To our shame my Lady." Wyman bowed his head, real or convincing enough shame portrayed in his actions. "We failed you, we failed your family. But you have my word, by the old gods and the new I will not fail you again." He set a leather wrapped package of letters on the desk. "This is all I have as proof I never was loyal to the Boltons. What evidence there is of our plans to restore a Stark to Winterfell."
She opened the leather package, there were dozens of letters inside. It made a great deal of sense the North would seek to restore a Stark. The bannermen of the North were loyal, more so than those of the South. And they'd suffered the loss of their own sons and men at the hands of the Boltons and Freys violating guest rites. It made sense. She didn't need to read these missives to be inclined to believe him. "Tell me what did you have intended for me in these grand conspiracies of yours?"
"We thought you a lost cause once the bastard had you. If you survived a marriage to a loyal man to care for you and provide what comfort could be given and as safe a life as we could manage." He didn't add the likely use of politically rewarding whatever house this 'loyal man' came from.
She gave a barely there nod at that. "You meant to make Rickon the Warden. Do you know where he is then?" Her heart beat in her chest with painful longing at the thought of her brother alive, and not merely lost, possibly alive, possibly dead.
"I've had word he was on Skagos." Wyman replied without hesitation. "Mors Umber went to find and fetch the boy if possible. He was to hide him at Last Hearth till we had an opportunity to attack."
Sansa breathed in at that, she would not let the flicker of hope grow. "Then we can hope they have good news when I return Lord Umber to them."
"Greatjon?!" Wyman's eyes widened. "The Freys have him."
She looked at the Lord. "Not any longer. My men should be returning with him any day now."
"That will go far in securing the North under your rule my Lady. But if I may, that alone will not be enough. Not with winter so close."
Sansa knew her position, house Manderly was needed. For their harbor, their ships, their army and their reputation if she meant to succeed. "Then it is a good thing my brother has an army, is removing the last of the Ironborn and with that acquiring Lawrence Snow. Not to mention I have the men preparing a gift of gratitude to House Cerwyn for what they suffered under the Boltons for their loyalty to my family. A hundred head of cattle, fifty head of horse, fifty bags of grain and ten thousand gold dragons. Once my brother returns those houses that willingly betrayed House Stark will be reminded of why we have ruled the North for eight thousand years."
"You mean to legitimize Lawrence as the last issue of the late Lord Hornwood. House Umber, Cerwyn, Manderly, Glover, Hornwood, likely Mormont if you sent your brother north. That would be a strong power block my Lady." He frowned, rapping his fingers on the table, clearly reading the implied insult in no offers of gifts, only a lack of punishment for House Manderly. "You mean to attack the Karstarks, Dustins, and Ryswells then?"
Sansa knew she was cold as she replied to that. "The Karstarks are kin, and turned against us despite it. Took part in the killing at the Twins. Their house will be turned to dust. I won't have their name survive, like the Greystarks and the Frosts before them they will cease to exist."
Lord Manderly shivered slightly. "The Dustins and Ryswells share ties of blood and marriage with house Bolton."
"And their names will survive for that reason, though I will exact a price upon them for betrayal all the same." And she would. The North would never follow a leader who forgave treason without penalty, and kinslaying without vengeance. Just as loyalty must be rewarded, so must disloyalty be punished.
He bowed to her words without question. "I will send word to my son, what is your trade proposal for Essos then my Lady?"
Sansa ran her fingers through Ghost's thick fur as she sat by the fire. She felt steadier like that, especially with something as dangerous as Daisy in the room with her. "So you've decided on a religious order then?"
"I was thinking about that." Daisy certainly looked her part as she stood in her new garb. "What would you say to an order of knights? I can ensure their loyalty is to the old gods, and the Starks who still hold to those gods."
Sansa pondered that. She knew as well as anyone that meant little, but it left a leash she could seize once this god left. "If you believe that is for the best."
"I do." Daisy handed her a small stack of papers. "My proposal of what such an order would encompass. I'd have to figure out a moral code, nothing hard to follow but simple enough it shouldn't be twisted out of context with time."
Sansa felt the familiar dry tongue and confused concern at this action. This god owed her nothing, no request for permission, none of it. "I would appreciate that greatly."
"Good, I'll see to it." Daisy sighed and handed over another list. "In the meantime this is what Fitz needs for his tools."
She stared at the materials and raised a brow at it. It'd be expensive, in some cases difficult to acquire everything. But certainly not impossible. "It will take time."
"I understand." Daisy paused, she frowned. "I'm sorry for him, he won't take it well. But he'll understand even if he doesn't like it."
Sansa was brimming with questions about the discrepancies there. But instead she asked something softer. "How long has his mind been...fractured?"
Daisy flinched looking away. "It was my fault." Her voice had a bitter edge to it. "That first time it was my fault. But now...so many terrible things happened and Fitz…. He needs to heal but without Jemma I don't...I promise he's a good guy. A kind one who is brave and caring, he's just broken right now."
"I offered you both my shelter and protection so long as you were here. He has that. The men understand that he has seen too much." Sansa had met plenty of brilliant men who were said to be touched by a god. Genius, perhaps even a gift. But she felt they'd misused the term having met one who truly was god touched. There was a madness there that equaled the greatness. A curse nearly as much a gift.
Daisy gave her a brief, grateful look as she stood. "I'll be on my way then. But thank you, for everything."
Which left Sansa feeling left footed once more. What sort of god thanked a mortal for mere room and board? "It is nothing."