Lord Umber had half a mind to cause his horse to break out in a gallop at the sight of Stark banners flying from Winterfell. He'd spent the better part of half a moon being fed proper food and given the use of his limbs. The toll of the war and his imprisonment would never leave him. But he felt a man again, instead of a husk of rage. "You fuckers weren't lying."
"Why else would we have given you an axe?" Joren, the captain of the men escorting him, replied. His voice was surprisingly dry for a man of his youth.
He scoffed. "Ya cunts came in Bolton colors. Couldn't know for sure if I was going to be fighting you with my axe when we reached Winterfell or not." But his voice held only the echo of the familiar boom he'd once spoken with.
Joren gave a look. "Lady Stark is aware honor has its place and it's after the wellbeing of her people."
"That's Tully words, lot of good those fish did us." His face hardened. The South and its Lords and ways could fuck themselves.
The men didn't say anything, instead they just rode. As they approached the gates were proven to be open. Umber thought the great fortress of the North was in better repair than it deserved to be after being burned by the Greyjoy scum and then filled with Boltons. As they entered the courtyard his eyes rested on the woman who could only be the once tiny Sansa. He dismounted.
"Lord Umber, welcome to Winterfell." Sansa greeted. "You are most welcome." She waved forward to a servant with bread and salt.
He looked the girl up and down. She was tall, red hair, very neat. "Odd world this, Stark banners for Lady Bolton."
"My marriage ended when I stabbed my husband." Sansa's posture didn't change. "I was born a Stark, I will always be a Stark no matter what I have been forced to do to survive."
Umber considered her. He took the bread and salt and ate it.
"I've had a room prepared for you and a bath drawn. If you wish to send word to your family there is paper and ink in your room. Maester Wolkan will send out any missive you wish." She was cold but perfect as she spoke.
Greatjon Umber submerged himself in the large metal tub of hot water. He didn't even consider letting it cool. Scrubbing with soap he wiped the grime of his travel and imprisonment from his skin. It felt like his outer layer of skin was half scalded off. He reveled in the cleanliness. It'd been years. His disused and abused body ached as the water eased his pains. His chest felt sharp and painful with grief, shame and anger that'd left him numb for so long.
When he finally emerged from his bath he was surprised to find fresh clothing nearly his size. Slightly loose, but clearly prepared ahead of his arrival and meant for him laid out on the bed. Besides a small mirror however was cream, a razor as well as scissors, as well as several combs. His eyes tracked the room. There on the side table was a large mug of ale, and a plate of meat and bread soaking in its own juices.
In fact the room had been specifically prepared for him, and with great thought to what his needs might be. He scoffed, he didn't need the pampering of some southern cunt. But he wasn't a fool, and his stomach panged him at the smell of the meal.
He was freshly dressed, and just cutting into his meal when there was a rap on the door. Umber grumbled before calling out. "Fuck manners, get in here instead of standing out there like some damned fool."
The door opened, and the fat Lord Manderly walked in, servant on his heels. "Well, I should hope that greeting wasn't intended for me." The man chortled.
Umber stretched backwards in his wooden chair. "So you've thrown your lot in with the girl? I'll give it to her stabbing that shit Ramsey was well done. But she's a damn southerner. Why should I care for whatever plot she means to use me in?"
"I see captivity hasn't beaten any more manner's or thought into your head than you had there before you left." Wyman waved for the servant to fill a cup and set food before himself, as he hefted himself into the chair across from Umber. The chair groaned under the weight of the man, but it held.
He laughed at that as he took a drag from his mug of ale. "Same as always merman."
"I'll take that as a compliment you old fool." He waved the servant away as food was set before him.
Umber rubbed absently at the scars he would bare for his life from his manacles. "You knelt to those flayed bastards." It was an indictment.
Wyman didn't flinch. "They returned my son to me for it. And if you think I held anything but a knife and poison in my hand for the Boltons." He took a pull from his cup of wine. "I had meant with the aid of your uncles, as well as several other Houses to recover Rickon Stark and put a Stark back in power."
"And yet there's a girl ruling this tiny corner of the North." Umber's face tightened. He'd had some news of the actions of his uncles since his imprisonment. The Freys had thought it entertaining to torture their prisoners with news of calamity and harm they could do naught to prevent.
Manderly looked at him. "That girl is as much a Stark as any of Ned's pups. But don't take my word for it, judge her for yourself."
"Oh, I will." Umber had followed a young Stark before, to glory and for revenge. It'd been short, glorious, and had turned to blood and death. He would not do so again.
/
Sansa grit her teeth as Bower approached her. "What news?"
"There's been reports of Ramsey's hunters to the south east. They've been ravaging the lands, raping, theiving and murdering their way." Bower didn't falter before her displeasure, one of the benefits of keeping him as a part of her household. Something she'd been considering.
But that was an issue. "How many men are a part of this?"
"Reports vary, but likely around fifteen with the hounds." Bower couldn't help the cringe at the mention of Ramsey's hounds.
Sansa felt a shiver of revolution at the reminder of the dogs. She looked at Brienne who was standing by her shoulder. "Brienne, take twenty of the men and hunt down these bandits. Kill the hounds. Kill or capture the men."
"My Lady, your brother has not returned yet. My place is by your side." Brienne's voice was stiff, she was practically incapable of falsehood.
She focused on her sworn sword. "The men here are inexperienced and young. Sending them after the more experienced men would be suicide. I trust you to do this." Sansa measured her words carefully. "And for now I believe I'll be secure while her Holiness remains." It was becoming clear that Daisy was...like a direwolf or other predator. Dangerous, but not without cause or reason.
Brienne gave a stiff nod. "If you feel it is necessary." She couldn't have sounded more unhappy at the suggestion.
"I do." Sansa felt cold. "I cannot allow this to continue." She could not allow this to take away from her authority while Lord Umber and Lord Manderly were here. Her task was monumental. But she was the daughter of Ned Stark, they owed her their allegiance. Allegiance they would not give if she proved unable to manage her own lands.
Bower spoke again. "The party to recover more of the Dreadfort's supplies is prepared to set out within the hour."
"Good news, is there more required for them to depart?" She inquired, it was vital that the last of the supplies were brought to Winterfell. Already the loot had proved to have secured her hold of Winterfell and its lands. She had the food, equipment, and gold to run the Stark lands.
He shook his head. "No, they are only waiting on the last of the spare axles for the carts."
"Is there other news?" She needed to know what other catastrophe was on its way for her.
Bower's brow furrowed. "Lord Manderly and Lord Umber have been speaking. Lord Umber seems to be against you m'Lady."
"Of course he is." Sansa's eyes narrowed. It was to be expected, it'd taken Robb letting Greywind biting two of the man's fingers off to get him behind him. She had neither a direwolf to command, the position as heir, nor was she a warrior or man. "The Lords of the North are hard headed and stubborn as mules."
Bower shook his head. "You've saved him, given him guest rite, and your hospitality. It's not right."
"But it is what it is. Ensure no one attempts to act in my defence towards him. He is my guest and is to be treated as such." Sansa ordered. She would not have men sworn to her acting stupidly in her defence and making everything worse. She would not and could not tolerate it. "What else?" Her eyes narrowed as she realized the man was sweating in front of her.
Bower actually cringed at that. "That's just...it seems Lady Bolton has felt the first of her birthing pangs in the night. Maester Wolkan confirmed and is with her as of an hour ago."
"Why wasn't I informed immediately?" Sansa's spine was iron as she demanded that answer.
His shoulders hunched slightly. "I'm sorry M'lady. I didn't want to tell ya just before you received Lord Umber."
Sansa considered the man before her. "You are my Master of Arms and have been acting as both that and as my Senchal, temporary as the position may be, it is still your duty. I am aware you are not trained nor were you prepared for your position. And you certainly have earned a senior position in my household. However you must never keep me in the dark, no matter your intentions." She faced him fully, he had to understand this. Knowledge was a form of power she desperately needed and could not lose. "If you ever hide or delay the truth like this again I'll have you removed from Winterfell. If you ever lie to me I will have you sent to the Wall. Do you understand?"
"Yes, m'lady." He bobbed his head, eyes wide.
Sansa felt no mercy, she couldn't afford more than she had just shown. "Good, I will not overlook it again."
Sansa shut the library doors behind her. She had never appreciated the library when she had been a child. But she'd come to appreciate the quiet, empty rows full of dusty tomes of knowledge. If it'd been a time of peace she'd have written for more books to be sent from Old Town. As it was, it was a nice dream for if they survived all of this. With Maester Wolkan attending to Lady Bolton there'd be no one in the library, except for the person she was looking for. "Holiness, you suggested I speak with you more often."
"Lady Stark?" The god looked up from the large tome. She brightened, straightening in her seat. "Yeah, did you need something?"
Sansa carefully took the implied invitation to sit across from the god. She'd accepted that this woman was likely one of her most trustworthy allies, even if she was wary and unsure of how far that went. "Walda Bolton is in labor."
"Ah." Daisy shut her book. "So you need a distraction from your mortal enemy having a kid."
She let her shoulders untighten ever so slightly. "Letting them live is the right decision, but it's also the foolish one."
"Why is it the foolish one?" Daisy asked.
Sansa paused, but she replied. "What do you mean? The child will be the only living scion of House Bolton. Of the bloodline of the Red Kings. A child who will be born in a world ruled by House Stark, their ancestral enemies, their prospects and future ruined."
"Sorry if I'm wrong, but you plan to break the enemies of your house here in the North." Daisy gave her a knowing look. "You told your brother you'd think about it. But you'll do it. Am I wrong?"
"No." Sansa didn't blink, didn't hesitate. There was no point in lying, the woman before her would know if she did.
Daisy sighed. "Then who would try to raise up a Bolton? Who loves the Boltons? I mean I'm not from here, I'm just reading about this world." She gestured at the book. "But who would choose a Bolton against a Stark? Once you're done, who would make that choice?"
"But I'm not done yet." Sansa considered the god's words. "But a babe is a poor symbol to rally behind." When had her fears clouded her? "I've been foolish."
Daisy shrugged. "From what I can tell you're surrounded by enemies and allies who haven't chosen you yet."
"Lord Umber isn't alone, the rest of the Lords won't forget I've been a Lannister and a Bolton in name if not in heart." She looked away from the god to the window, light streaming in. "It will take time to win them without an enemy to rally against."
She had a slight frown in her voice. "You have your choice of enemies."
"I do. And Winter is Coming, I have time to gather my allies." Sansa turned back to the god. "You wouldn't happen to have an easy option for ensuring Lord Umber knows I'm Stark and have the will to succeed?"
Daisy leaned back in her seat. "How'd everyone else do it?"
"My father led them to war against the Targaryans after they murdered my grandfather and uncle and stole and raped my aunt. My brother led them to war against the Lannisters after they attempted to murder my brother, murdered my father and stole Arya and I. Not that they ever had Arya, but no one knew that." Sansa swallowed. "I don't have more family to sacrifice as martyrs."
Daisy looked at her. "But you're rallying them for the living. It's harder." She tapped her fingers on the table. "I got nothing on any grand gesture to win their loyalty, but maybe you don't need one?"
"You advise time then." Sansa was oddly disappointed to be advised what she already knew was the truth. But reassured at the same time. Her eyes noted the scarring on the side of the god's neck. It was funny, the woman had a scar on her cheek. But it'd never seemed important before. "You can scar."
Daisy reached up, touching the mark. Her face was...she moved her hair the rest of the way off of her neck showing the awful looking mark on her neck. "He used my trust in him to hit me from behind, drug me, tied me down and cut into me till he'd taken what he wanted." She dropped her hand.
Sansa's heart quickened at the memories her words invoked. "But you survived."
"So did you." Daisy held her gaze and then she turned more friendly. "In any case unless you want me to beat Lord Umber up for you I don't think I have much to give you there."
Her lips twitched at the image of the woman before her punching Lord Umber in the face. "I doubt that'd be useful. But thank you for the offer." She gave a look at the book. "Why do you read so much?"
"I'm in a strange world, how else am I meant to understand it?" Daisy looked amused. "Also I got to say, this world's lack of internet, super terrible."
Sansa humored herself. "What is the internet?"
"It's sort of like...if all the books of the world, art, knowledge, and your ravens carrying letters were in one giant invisible web across the world. And people could access that information, send messages, play games, whatever they want across all of it instantly. When I was human I was a hacker, or a person who broke the codes guarding information on the internet. I found everyone's dirty secrets and made it public for everyone to know." Her grin was predatory then, a light in her eye that was distinctly passionate.
The concept boggled the mind. But for a realm of gods it sounded appropriately wondrous. She couldn't hardly comprehend it, but the potential for such magic. "I can barely imagine."
"It's pretty awesome." Daisy was fond. "So what do your Northern Lords respect other than strength?"
Sansa settled as she spoke the truth she knew down to her bones. "Plain speech, following the old ways, being true to your word, stubborn bullheadedness." She preferred her own people to those of the south. Their values were different, their ways. Oh the politics were in some ways the same, but not all.
"So that a hold back on the freezing people to death for attempted murder? Cause going to be honest there's a distinct risk of exploding the person on accident when I do that." Daisy winced in disgust at that thought of exploding a person.
Sansa wondered how the magic worked for that to be a possibility. She didn't see any connection between the two but apparently there was one. "I would prefer to gain their allegiance on my own power. But I would not think to order your actions."
"I'm a soldier, sorta." Daisy shrugged. "Well one who never stopped arguing with orders I didn't like. You can ask, I'll probably be willing. I kinda owe you for everything you've done for Fitz and me."
Sansa was unsure by what metric she was the one in this partnership who had offered more. But she had no intention of questioning that. "It's been my honor."
"I'm sure." Daisy's eyes sparked with amusement. "Nice touch with the new assistant you gifted Fitz, smart."
Her blood felt like it ran cold. She should have expected the woman to realize, but this quickly? It'd been a day. But then she'd said she'd been a spy. It'd been stupid to hope the god wouldn't notice the spy inserted besides her companion. "I meant no offense."
"None taken." Daisy didn't seem offended, mostly amused, though she was serious as she kept speaking. "It was a good idea. And one you should continue. Fitz is one of my two closest and dearest friends. He's the closest thing I have to a brother." And her amusement was gone now. "But he has two people in him. He's mainly Fitz, the dork I'd trust with anything. But sometimes...he isn't that person. And the person he becomes is a monster. If I'm ever not here you should ensure your guards keep an eye on him."
Sansa pressed her lips together. "How dangerous is he?"
"Who do you think gave me that scar?" Daisy wasn't lounging in her chair, there was a tenseness to her. "It's not his fault exactly, but it doesn't change the fact he's capable of it."
Sansa's eyes widened slightly. A human capable of doing that to a god was...horrifically dangerous. Not to mention the concept of still calling a man who was willing to violate you in such a way a friend and brother was….she didn't understand. But she didn't need to. "I'll see it done."
"Good." Daisy eased ever so slightly. "He's not an active threat."
"I'll keep that in mind." Sansa wondered at the truth of two minds in one head. It could be metaphor or literal when it came to this. She had to ensure she brought no insult however. "You truly don't mind the assistant?"
Daisy shook her head. "He's brilliant, if the kid learns anything from Fitz it'll be good for you. And it's not like there's any information on us that could harm us. Benefits of not being from the same world."
"You're very certain of his loyalty, despite everything." Sansa could probably do a lot to ensure the hurt between this god and her companion was widened if she set her mind to it. Afterall, while subtle she had noticed the...caution Daisy seemed to hold herself with when Fitz was near. Though she couldn't have guessed the reason.
Daisy didn't look bothered by the implication. "You mean the risk of turning against each other? If it was just Fitz and I? Maybe. I doubt it, but maybe. But he'd never betray Jemma, and we both want to return to where she is."
"You've mentioned that name before?" Sansa pointed out.
Daisy smiled. "His wife, and my best friend. Which it's a bit ridiculous. I spent a year with Jemma trying to rescue him, only for everything to go to hell and now I'm trapped with him trying to get to her. They better name their first kid after me." Her voice had laughter in it, like she actually wouldn't take it personally if the future child wasn't named for her.
"You are a very strange god." Sansa found herself saying almost despite herself.
The god shrugged. "I mean you can call me a god, and Fitz a demi-god, my enemies a monster, at this point does it even matter?"
"In some ways." Sansa wondered if she'd underestimated how human this woman was? Perhaps, perhaps not. But she would have the time to find out.