Brienne grabbed Rickon Stark by the scruff and hauled him off the wall he'd been about to climb. "No climbing the walls."
"I wasn't gonna climb high." He pouted, crossing his arms as he glared at her.
She prayed to the Seven to give her strength. "You're supposed to be learning the Northern Houses with Maester Wolkan."
"It's boring." There was a distinct whine in his voice.
"As a future Lord you need to know your Houses." Brienne used her grip on the back of his jacket to direct him into the castle and towards his lessons. "It's your duty."
Rickon didn't dig in his heels, which at this point was basically a victory.
Brienne accepted the silence. She wished with every bone of her body she was by Lady Sansa's side. But if this was where she was to be, then it was where she was going to be. It was reassuring to know she had made the correct choice forgoing motherhood. Children were far superior from a distance. As she dragged the boy past the Great Hall she gave a short nod to Lord Manderly. At least Rickon's aversion to sitting still was the greatest challenge they'd faced.
/
Daisy adjusted the decorative jacket thing as she finished the last of the buttons. "They don't know I'm not human here?"
"It's important, I'd rather not have to deal with another Lord Umber." Sansa replied dryly from where she was reading the correspondence she'd demanded be brought to her.
Daisy looked longingly at the surprisingly comfortable thing called a gambeson she'd been wearing. It was so lovely and dark navy blue. Dirt and blood smears perfectly hideable. The fancy stuff was white or grey...she felt guilty everytime she found a dirt smudge. "Lord Umber knew, he just didn't believe. And like uh, me shaking the ground for effect or making the air real cold is going to stop being impressive."
"Forgive me, but I doubt your power will ever not inspire awe." Sansa set one of the letters into one of the five piles she was forming on the desk. "And the more Lords who believe in your divinity the better. It gives weight to your status."
She accepted she was going to wear the clothing that showed every speck of dirt. "Are you sure you want Jon and I to leave for the Umber force tomorrow? We could delay it a day or two, help secure everything here."
"Yes, Davos and Lord Cerwyn will be enough for now. Especially with the size of the force being left behind." Sansa looked at her curiously. "What's wrong? You've never worried like this before?"
Daisy blinked….when had she gotten attached? "We're in a nearly hostile stronghold and you're sending like 90% of us out immediately. It's risky. And I happen to know you now, and badass though you may be, I don't think you can defend yourself properly if someone decides to shank you."
"I'll have guards, and I have no interest in leaving myself more vulnerable than is required." Sansa set the missive she'd been reading down. "Is there a threat you believe I'm missing?"
She frowned. "I don't think so but...I don't know, there's something off with your Stormland knights."
"Off how?" Sansa was paying full attention to her.
Daisy bit her lip as she tried to put it into words. "It's probably nothing, just like distrust cause of their red priestess. But they're super twitchy when they spot me, and I'm kind of allied with you."
"Ah." Sansa leaned back slightly in her seat. "I'd noticed that as well." One of her fingers tapped on the arm of her chair. "Do you think it's an immediate threat?"
Which wasn't that the question? "I don't know, but you'll be without Brienne, Jon, or me here to ensure no one tries anything." Daisy hopped up onto a table, letting her legs swing slightly. "What if I left the guys who've sworn to me with you? I'll need Joran with me, but otherwise. I know you planned on them going with the army to the Moat since they're getting to be really good archers. But they're religious, I trust that loyalty more than your knights. And the Manderly men."
Sansa clearly seemed considering as she looked at Daisy. Finally she gave the slightest nod. "I can see the value in that. It won't be difficult to adjust the guard rotations. But you'd be willing to give your followers to me like that?"
"Obviously." Daisy shrugged at that. It wasn't like she had wanted them in the first place. "It's messing with me how fast it all went I think.
And are you telling me you're not suspicious of possible treason in your ranks?"
Sansa shook her head. "No, you're right." She sighed, her shoulders softening. "I've been careless.
"Hey, don't go brood about it. You've been working yourself like crazy. Like god knows how you're juggling everything." Daisy was fairly sure had Sansa been a SHIELD agent she'd have turned the bureaucracy of it all into her bitch.
Sansa set her quill aside. "I'm not delegating enough am I?"
"Probably not." Daisy considered that. "You haven't built up much of a close council outside of Manderly and Jon."
Frustration painted itself across Sansa's face. "And who should I consider a council member? Davos? I barely have met the man let alone have a measure for him. Lord's Glover and Mors leave for the Moat. Perhaps when they return."
"Lord Cerwyn is basically a puppy." Daisy was not impressed by the man, vaguely amused, but not impressed. "A loyal one who has at least enough of a brain to be more useful than he is being right now."
"A fair assessment." Sansa gave a long sigh, looking at the fire. "I have learned that trust is for the naive. It is hard to give that trust despite that."
Daisy hummed. "Trust is...brave. Especially when you know the risk."
"Brave not foolish?" Sansa asked, and there was a bitterness there.
Daisy's brow furrowed as she looked at the thick carpet on the floor. "Coulson trusted me despite everything. When I was nothing. He went out on a limb for me. And I proved everyone else right, I was working for an enemy group. But he still gave me a second chance. I earned his trust back. Through everything, I saved his life, I took two...basically arrows? To the gut for him. When everything turned to ash I stayed. Coulson had a way of believing in people that made them loyal. Trust has a way of surprising you."
"All these Lords and Ladies were loyal to my father. They were loyal to my brother. And they betrayed them despite that. Your Coulson clearly was betrayed as well. If I take the risk of trusting these people and they betray me, the North will likely fall. Without the North there will be no one to stop the dead."
Daisy wasn't Coulson, she couldn't inspire like he could. But she had a feeling inspiration wasn't what Sansa needed. She was too logical for blind belief. "If you keel over from stress what will happen exactly? Cause Jon'll brood his way to death. And Rickon is eleven."
"A necessary gamble of faith." Sansa lifted a small stick of wax, turning it over in her fingers. "So much of leadership is a gamble. Choose wrong and the cost is death. Fail to choose and the cost is death."
Daisy nodded. "It sucks." She hopped off the table. It was funny...and yet.. "Do you trust me at all?"
Sansa held her gaze. "More than I should." Her lips twitched. "Though I don't understand you."
Daisy laughed. "I think that's a compliment."
"It is." Sansa paused slightly. "Thank you, for the advice."
She hesitated at the door. "Anytime."
/
Fitz cracked open the crate of materials that'd arrived. "Oh f-finally." He lifted up a piece of the seaweed inside the crate. It was something useful at last. He looked up to where Crann was opening one of the other crates. "It's the b-brine?"
"Exactly how you wanted it." Crann lifted a bottle of the corked and highly concentrated salt water.
He closed the lid, delighted. Between this and the silver he had a start at getting ahold of iodine and silver nitrate. "This is Jemma's area. B-but I can make t-this work."
Wolkan shuffled over, looking at the contents of the wagon that'd arrived from White Harbor. "How will this be of any use to you? It's just salt water and seaweed."
"It's not wha-what it is, it's what I c-can make from it." Fitz hopped off the wagon. "C-rann, get it into the w-workshop."
Wolkan folded his hands into his sleeves in front of him. "What will you make from it?"
"Che-chemical compounds I can s-see the in-invisible with." Fitz didn't expect any of them to understand the concept of radiation or magnetism or just anything he was trying to measure. Wolkan was the smartest person there and he wouldn't have been able to keep up with Fitz when he was ten, let alone now. "I-I need to know that to g-get home."
Wolkan made a considering noise. "Is it only useful for seeing the unseen? Or do these compounds have other uses?"
"Hmm. Iodine is a dis-disinfectant." Fitz mumbled distractedly as he watched Crann moving a crate. His eyes were sharp, they couldn't afford it to be dropped with how long it'd taken to get this in the first place.
Wolkan asked a question then that actually made Fitz freeze in horror. "What is disinfectant?"
"Ex-excuse me?!" Fitz gaped, as he stared at the man. He ran a hand through his hair. Dear god the man was serious. "Y-you can't...h-how do you n-not die from infection!? A p-paper cut could kill you! R-rusty nails!"
Wolkan's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "You can stop infection." He looked at the crates like they were made of gold. "This will let you stop infection? You're sure?"
"Y-yes!" Fitz trembled in disbelief at the horror. He could have died from a damn papercut!
/
Jon pressed a kiss to the crown of his sister's head. "Stay safe."
"You as well brother." Sansa caught his forearms and squeezed. "Don't get stabbed."
He huffed. "I'm more worried about being dropped."
"I'm sure our resident god will try not to." The tiny flicker of humor was a relief to see. It was rare on his sister's face afterall.
Jon was not particularly comforted at her words. He found the whole idea of being flown across the North terrifying. Not that he'd say so. "I'm sure you're right. You generally are."
"Only generally?" Her voice was dry, but her eyes were bright.
He chuckled. "You can't always be right." He looked over her shoulder at the man wearing the sigil of her Holiness's followers. "I see you have more protection than expected?"
"Daisy offered, and I agreed." She folded her hands before her.
He noted the knight of the Stormlands standing at guard to his sister's other side, as well as a man in Manderly colors. "Good. I'll see you in Winterfell. Four moons turns at most."
"Send word when it's done." She instructed, though he thought it was as much her need to keep on top of the political situation as it was her own way of requesting news he survived the fight ahead of him.
"Aye, I'll do that." Jon took a step back. "Well, can't avoid it forever." He turned to Davos. Davos was a good man, he'd stand by his sister.
Davos gave a nod to him.
Finally he turned around to face the god that was about to fly him across the continent. Jon winced as he realized exactly how ridiculous he was about to look as he saw the rope. "Is that necessary?"
"Unless you want to fall." Daisy grinned as she looked up at him. "Also you're gonna want to take that cloak off.
Jon stepped closer. "You're going tie me to your back aren't you?"
"Yup, kinda need my arms for the whole flying thing. So no carrying you like a pretty pretty princess." And she was clearly deeply amused by this.
He carefully unbuckled his cloak. Folding it he moved back to his sister. "Keep it safe for me?" It was his most precious possession after his sword.
"Of course." Sansa accepted it from him.
Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked back to the god. "Is this enough?"
"You're good. So, how do you feel about piggy back rides." She winked as she offered her back to him.
Every bone in his body cringed at the thought of holding a woman as closely as he was about to hold Daisy. But he accepted it was necessary. Ygrette would have laughed at how awkward he was feeling about it. He cautiously stepped behind her, raising his arms and wrapping them over her shoulders. He wasn't actually that much taller than her.
Daisy snickered and looped the rope around their waists. She glanced over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to shock me dude. Tighter against me you are, lower the chances of you falling off."
"Right." Jon's cheeks heated, but he did press himself flush against her back at that.
She tossed rope over their right shoulders, before leaning forward and yanking the end between their legs. Repeating the process she soon had them tied together vertically and horizontally. As she tightened the last knot she sighed. "K, I'm going to crouch down. Try not to puke."
"Puke?" Jon felt a sudden spike of alarm.
Daisy ignored him, yanking them both down into a crouch. "Hang on." She reached up with one hand to ensure his grip around her shoulders was tight. And then her hands dropped, and then it was like his stomach dropped out from under him, the wind pressing down, and they were gone.
Jon staggered three strides to the side, dropped to his knees, and puked into the grass. His body shook as his fingers dug into the ground. Ground, sweet ground. The awful vibrations were absent, it was just him, his own body and solid ground, still air. "Sweet gods."
"That really threw off my balance. Sorry about nearly crashing into that one tree." Daisy touched his shoulder.
A wave of vibration washed over him, his damp to wet clothing turned hot and dry. It was one of the strangest sensations he'd felt...not even the strangest of the day. But still strange.
He looked up at her. "How are you standing?"
"You get used to it." Daisy patted his shoulder. "Once you're ready the army is just over that hill. I kinda missed a bit."
Jon wiped at his mouth. "I'd rather ride five hundred leagues on horse than do that again."
"What, not walk five hundred miles?" She grinned.
He frowned. "What? Yes, walking five hundred miles would be better?"
"Come on." She grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. "I've got a song to teach you. And we've got a short hike."
/
Rodrick Ryswell, formerly Lord Ryswell threw a pitcher across the room. It shattered against the wall. "Fucking Starks!"
"Sit down father." Barbrey Dustin replied tartly as ever. "It's not good for your heart."
He glared at her. "We're ruined."
"I told you that Roose Bolton would damn us. The Lords of the North would have rebelled eventually. And every scream from that girl's throat, from Ned Stark's beloved daughter's throat as the bastard raped her only brought it inevitably closer. Her weeping damned us long before she brought her army to our doors." Barbrey poured herself wine as she eyed him with familier judgement.
Rodrick hated that his fury was not enough to keep him on his feet like it would have when he was a young man. But he wasn't young anymore. Hadn't been for a great many years. So filled with spite he collapsed into a great fur covered chair by the fire. "That girl has stripped us of our dignity. Our wealth and standing. My son rules a broken house."
"Roose took a risk. He thought he could usurp the Starks. And with all the boys dead save Ned's bastard who was on the wall perhaps he could have. But the Starks are beloved. Nearly every House in the North lost sons in the Red Wedding. I lost members of my House in that abomination against the gods!" And his daughter was seething at that. "But maybe Roose could have held the North, but his bastard wasn't a mad dog."
Rodrick knew his daughter was right. "Fuck Starks."
"I did, if you remember my youth. Not that Rickard would allow his children to marry in the North with his foolish Southern ambitions. But if that wolf girl had demanded we grovel on the ground we would have been forced to do so. We lost, our survival is more than we had right to expect." Barbrey took a pointed drink of her wine.
He grunted at the memory of when he'd dreamed of marrying his daughter to Brandon Stark. She'd have been Lady Stark of Winterfell. He'd been willing to accept Ned as a second best for his daughter once he'd known of the betrothal to House Tully. And then he'd been forced to realize Lord Rickard would not marry any of his sons to the North. So he'd married his daughter to House Dustin. It'd been an insult after the Stark boy dishonored his daughter.
Barbrey huffed. "You seem to miss that by being in Winterfell we'll be placed to advocate for our Houses. Hostages of course, but we still have our heads."
"That girl will have wiped out more ancient and noble Houses than any single forbear of hers." He stared into the flicking of the fire. Two Houses gone once the Karstarks were dead. And if she turned those two to dust he had no doubt House Frey's days were numbered. Three Houses.
His daughter clucked her tongue. "We thought her irrelevant save as a martyr, a lack of imagination."
"How have you resigned yourself to this? Yesterday morn you were Lady of House Dustin, had an army, Barrowtown, dignity. Now it's gone. Our armies march to Moat Cailin without us, you rule nothing, and our homes are no longer ours." He was..exhausted. A lifetime growing his House. Marrying his daughters into two of the most powerful Houses in the North. Alliances, trade, years of work he'd given all the years of his life to and it was just...gone.
Barbrey picked up her sewing. "We wagered and we've lost. And unlike the Karstarks our heirs can rebuild and our heads are attached." She began to unspool her thread. "If that boy of Ned's speaks true, having a Lady of Winterfell with a will of iron is our best hope."
"You think the Long Night has truly come?" He was tired then. Because he didn't want to believe. But he did. He felt in his heart, in the memories of his ancestors of monsters long since defeated but not destroyed.
Barbrey's hands stilled. "If Ned's son says it's here and wildlings follow a Stark then I believe him."
"Aye...I do as well." Rodrick admitted, and didn't that damn them all.