Lady Dustin felt the humiliation of being forced to wait for permission to enter what had up until three days ago been her own solar. But she bit back the irritation, she'd lost. It was the height of arrogance and stupidity to act as if she hadn't. So she waited for the knight with the heraldry of a Stormlord's house to knock, and announce her as 'Lady Dustin', before opening the door for her to enter.
She swept in, dropping into a formal curtsy as the door closed behind her. "Lady Stark."
"Did you require something Lady Dustin?" Sansa Stark asked from where she was seated by the fire. Her gown was fine, but more practical than grand. Though not a hair was out of place, not a movement without thought and control.
Barbrey Dustin straightened. "I wished to discuss my father."
"Ah." Lady Stark's voice was clear and there was no doubt she'd understood the meaning immediately. She gestured to the chair across the hearth from herself. "Then it would seem we will be here for some time."
Barbrey's eyes swept her solar as she accepted the invitation to sit. She nearly rolled her eyes at the Stark banner sloppily strung over the mantle of the fire. There were papers and chests open, the room barely contained chaos. It would seem their Lady had been busy. However her eyes froze as she realized there was a third person in the room. Clearly passed out in a position that could not be comfortable, was the strange god, half curled in the window, book dropped on the floor beside her.
Lady Stark clearly noticed what had stalled her movement. "Daisy, you can stop pretending to be asleep."
And sure enough, the god's eyes cracked up, her lips twitched up as she straightened, the fakest sounding yawn coming from her lips. "How'd you know I was faking?"
"Your opinion on my sending Davos and near half my men to the Rills is noted. I do not regret it, protective shadowing on your part or no." Lady Starks voice was shockingly dry and unruffled. "I believe you will find this discussion more interesting than the crick in your neck you're attempting to gain over there however."
The god's mouth twitched up into a full and proper grin at that as her feet dropped from the window sill to the ground. "Fair."
"If I'm interrupting I can return later?" Barbrey offered cautiously as she observed the situation. She was unsure of the power dynamic here. Unsure even of the actual divinity of the woman in garb evocative of the face trees. But she knew enough to know that a misstep here could cost her greatly.
Sansa's eyes turned back to her. "That's unnecessary. I take it from your presence that your father is not taking his change in circumstances well?"
"He holds no love of House Stark, not after the many insults over the years. Deserved or no." Barbrey may be willing to work within the new position she found herself, but she would not lie or mask the truth of her history.
Daisy hopped up onto the table, facing them. She remained silent as she listened. There was a light to her eye that Barbrey identified as intelligence. God or not the woman was a threat if she wished to be. Politically at the least. Not to mention the baffling fact she was there at all….she'd left with the army days ago.
Sansa spoke. "You refer to my Uncle and Grandfather's treatment of you and your House?"
"My father wanted nothing so much as an alliance with House Stark. I wanted nothing more than to be a Stark when I was your age. And if your family had been as honorable as claimed I would have been." Barbrey had loved Brandon Stark as a girl, thought they'd be wed. Given him her maidenhead without hesitation. And yet here they were. "Did you know your father brought back my husband's horse but not his bones? He brought back his sister's bones but couldn't bring my husband's who died for him."
The wolf girl leaned back in her seat ever so slightly. "And for that reason as well as your blood ties to the Boltons I have spared your lives. If House Stark had not dishonored and shamed you and your father's Houses I would have erased you from history as I have done to House Bolton and soon House Karstark." Sansa paused, seeming to consider her next words. "And as I will do to House Frey when summer comes again."
Barbrey tilted her head slightly. She had no idea how stupid, noble Ned Stark and his perfect southern wife had produced a daughter like the one before her. "Mercy that I am not ungrateful for. However men are slower to accept strikes against their pride than we women. And acceptance does not mean forgiveness or forgetfulness."
"No, I should not think it would." Sansa lifted a cup of what looked to be heated water, perhaps tea to her lips. "And yet you came to me."
Barbrey could work with an intelligent woman like the one before her. "My father resents the loss of position, the gold, animals, food, and army forfeit to you in our defeat. If he is left to sulk and brood I believe he will do something...inadvisable."
"And you wish for me to assign him a task to keep him diverted from treasonous thought and deed. Something unlikely to happen should I leave him to rot in Winterfell." Sansa continued to prove her quick understanding. "I am not adverse to providing your father with a task. In fact I find myself with more to do than I am capable of. However I would be curious what you would suggest would suit both his skills and temperament."
Barbrey held the Lady of Winterfell's gaze. "He is a competent man. Under his rule House Ryswell has gained more power and influence than it's had in its long history." She gave the slightest gesture of deference to the Lady. "And it's greatest ruin. Give him an army and one of the castles along the wall to reman and hold."
The god laughed, her voice pleasant as she spoke. "On the opposite side of the North as his power base, a chance to regain honor in battle, and far enough away from the Northern court to not ruin you and your families chances." She looked amused if approving, her eyes moved to Sansa. "Am I missing anything?"
"What do you want in return for this information and wisdom?" Sansa asked her, though she showed no surprise at the 'god's' words.
Barbrey wondered at that, but held her tongue. There would be time enough to learn the form this Stark's winter court was taking. "That you remember I gave it to you."
"I won't forget." Sansa's words sounded like an oath. "We leave for Winterfell in a week's time. I will consider your words between now and then."
That was a yes, or at least a form of it. And a good sign for the future Barbrey had to look forward to. She stood then. "I believe you when you say the Long Night comes. For that, and to avoid the ruin of the house that is mine by marriage and my house by birth, I will serve and aid you as I have sworn. But do not mistake that for liking you, Lady Stark."
"I will not. Know if you or yours betray me I won't hesitate to mount your head on a pike."
And she believed her. "Understood my Lady."
Sansa looked away grabbing a thick roll of parchment. "Good, in the meantime I would appreciate your thoughts on this."
"What is it?" Barbrey asked cautiously as she accepted the parchment.
Her voice was clear as she replied. "Preparations Barrowtown will need to make for the coming winter to survive. However this is not my home and it has been yours longer than I've been alive."
"You're stripping us of our food stores. There is little recovery from that." Barbrey was..confused.
It was Daisy who huffed in amusement. "And your army of hungry mouths are gone. Fewer people, less food. Kinda equals out don't you think?"
"That's…" Barbrey looked down at the neatly laid out numbers of Barrowtown's stores and population. "You want House Dustin to engage in rabbit breeding?"
Sansa raised a brow. "They breed quickly, for little cost, and the meat will be invaluable."
/
Lord Manderly watched from the window as the little wolf Lord and the men of the god trained. It had become clear with every day the god had known exactly what she was doing in training the men. Already they had gone from foolish boys with swords to men who'd hold the line against most forces. Not great swordsmen, or warriors, but good soldiers. But it wasn't them he was watching, it was the boy who by rights would be Lord Stark, Warden of the North and who all their hopes for the future of the North would be pinned. And yet...the boy's bony, narrow shoulders and wild temperament did not fill Wyman Manderly with hope. "It is a good thing Rickon has a sister to be regant for him."
"Aye, now isn't the time for a boy king." Greatjon agreed, his voice a rumble. "Let the South have their bastard boy King, we have a Winter Queen who will rule till our King is a man grown."
Manderly chuckled. "You agree our future is in independence then?"
"We bowed to Dragons. And then we bowed to a Stag for the love between the Stag and our Lord. But a Lannister bastard? Never." Greatjon's arms crossed as he looked down upon the training yard as well. His face set in surety and conviction.
Manderly gave an agreeing nod. "We owe better than asking our Lady Stark to make false oaths to the Lannister bastard, whether she'd sacrifice her honor for us or not."
"Aye, there is that." Umber chuckled. "She won't be pleased with us if we name House Stark King's of the North."
He smiled at that. "No, she won't." A thrum of pride ran through him. They had a good leader. One he trusted more than he had hoped to trust a Lord or Lady. "But she'll accept. Afterall she's as Northern as we are. It galls us all to bend the knee. Torhenn Stark should have fought the Dragon Cunts instead of bowing to them."
"It'd be easier to crown Jon than it will be to crown Rickon." Greatjon sighed as they watched the boy's body language inevitably fall more in line with the wolf in human skin he was as he sparred.
Wyman frowned as he considered it. "Would it be? Jon Stark follows his sister's orders already. He's practically bent the knee to her. And he's a bastard. The boy down there is a boy. A boy being guarded by two older children of House Stark. Give him a few years under his sister's hand with his brother leading his armies and I think he'd be a fitting King."
"There is that." Greatjon frowned though. "Ned always did say that the Starks were a pack. He may have been more right than I thought." He seemed to shake himself from the thought. "So, how're we planning on not losing any important bits for going against Lady Stark's plans?"
He laughed, and the thing was it wasn't even a joke. "I reckon we give her brother a throne and a crown and she'll have to forgive us eventually."
"Forgiving?" Greatjon looked at him in disbelief.
Wyman grinned. "Jon'll talk her out of taking our heads for it."
"Strange world this. Gods walking around, dead marching for us, the daughter of House Stark the one needing to be pacified by the House's son. Damn conundrum is what it is."
"Aye, it is at that." Wyman noted the wildling woman at the edge of the yard watching the wolf boy with hawk like eyes. "Can't forget we're fighting side by side with the wildlings. Never thought I'd hear a Northern call a wildling ally, yet here we are."
Greatjon grumbled, but gave a nod. "Those fucking giants and wargs are bloody useful, gods damn it all."
"If our enemy wasn't the dead I'd have no doubt of our inevitable victory. Damned shame. I'd give good gold to see the fucking Lannisters try and deal with a giant swatting them like flies on a log." He hadn't forgotten his loses to the fucking lions. And he never would till they'd paid for it with rivers of their own blood.
The Greatjon's eyes turned slightly starry. "Shove a log straight up the Freys' asses." His manner turned serious once more. "The Wall won't hold through winter."
"No it likely won't." Wyman felt a shiver at the thought of the endless night and cold coming with the dead. The weather and darkness would suck the life out of them well enough without the dead to help them to their early graves. "We'll need to draw them south. No sense fighting them at the Wall once they break through. Best retreat and set the battlefield further south where we can prepare it better."
The other man grunted. "Aye, you're not wrong with that. Best hold the Wall as long as we can though. Whittle down their numbers best we can."
Wyman allowed himself hope they'd survive.
/
Daisy felt the controlled vibrations she was becoming more and more familiar with. She didn't look away from the delightfully fuzzy cow she was petting. No one had ever told her cows were adorable. Though she expected most cows didn't looked like poofed up walls of chunk with big brown eyes. This cow had eyelashes a drag queen would kill god for. "At last you've left your lair."
"Lair?" Sansa asked as she approached the side of the pen some of the cows to be sent to Winterfell were in.
She shifted winking at the lady. "I mean you're going to turn so pale you'll blend in with the snow if you avoid daylight much longer."
"There is a great deal to do." There was a long sigh. "However, you are not entirely wrong."
Which was as good as saying she was entirely right coming from the woman who cared about appearances as much or more than Pepper Potts. "I know I'm right." Daisy turned to face her friend, though she continued her gentle scratches between her new favorite animal's ears. "Not going to pet the cow? It's as fuzzy as it looks."
"I'm content not to risk it." Sansa barely avoided looking at one of the several cow patties decorating the grass where the cows were penned. The smell was...distinctive.
"Fair, but lame. I haven't touched something this soft in like...wow I haven't been around animals in a long time." Daisy blinked at that. When was the last time she'd even touched an animal that wasn't some sort of alien she was punching? And she meant like animal aliens, not alien aliens.
Sansa didn't comment on that. "Do you have news of the Northern host?"
"Another week and Mors and the army will reach Moat Cailin. I'm a couple days out of date with Jon, but he and the other part of the army were half a month out from the Karhold according to him. He did have a hangover from drinking with the Umber men and Free Folk though so whether his guess was accurate is…?" She shrugged.
There was softening at word her brother was safe, perhaps also at knowing her goals were advancing. But Daisy was getting the feeling that goals and politics were second to family to her friend.
Sansa allowed herself to lean ever so slightly against the pen's fencing. "Do you intend to remain here in Barrowtown for long?"
"Another day, maybe two. Long enough to make sure nothing's wrong." Daisy didn't like how vulnerable Sansa was at the moment. "You do know that no one is going to judge you for weighing your life as valuable enough to guard?"
Sansa's eyes moved the cow. "I'm aware. However it's not their opinion I'm chiefly concerned about. The quick surrender of the Dustin's and Ryswells has given us a rare opportunity. The Rills are south enough we might have time to construct glass houses if they begin the work soon enough."
"Theoretically, and I do mean that in I haven't done it before even if I probably can. I might, might be able to turn sand into glass." Daisy winced slightly at the suddenly sharp look on the lady's face. She raised a hand. "I'd have to try. If you could get me some sand I can try and figure it out. But it's just heating it hot enough really and well…" She shrugged.
Sansa's eyes had that look in them. The one that meant she was doing math that frankly was horrifyingly impressive in dark ages and in any age at the rate she was doing it. "I can have sand brought to you within the hour."
"I'll see what I can do. Might take me a while to get it though." Daisy brushed some of her hair behind one ear. Her nose wrinkled as she felt the strands of her hair. "How do you keep your hair so perfect? Like I'm half tempted to chop mine off. I've never worn my hair in a braid so much before in my life!"
Sansa took the sudden change in topic in stride. "Have the servants not provided soap and the appropriate mixture for your hair?"
"Oh they've been great. Joyce back at Winterfell even manages not to stutter in terror when she sees me. But like...it's greasy. I'm barely keeping it appropriate for leaving my room." Her nose wrinkled. Even when she was living in her van her every third day trip to the gym for their showers had left her fresher than this hellscape allowed.
Sansa seemed to pause. "You have been using the wooden comb and powder though?"
"Uh wasn't sure what that was….is that important?" Daisy had a feeling she was about to feel like an idiot.
Sansa suddenly very clearly controlled face in an effort not to laugh was a clue she'd been right. "You apply the powder to your hair and use the fine toothed come to remove it. The powder binds to the oil in your hair."
"Huh...that is...surprisingly cool." Daisy scratched at the cow's nose. "I might still cut my hair, that seems like a lot of labor with hair as long as mine."
Sansa genuinely seemed concerned at that, though she hid it quickly. "Perhaps giving it some thought before you find sheers."
"I mean a dagger would work." Daisy enjoyed the slightest twitch that produced in Sansa. "Hair is important here isn't it?"
"I'm being silly, and vain. A woman with short hair is no more scandalous than your or Lady Brienne wearing trousers." Sansa softened.
Daisy smiled at that. "Well your hair is gorgeous. But I think I'd go crazy spending as much time on mine as I think you do."
"You must think me silly to spend so much time on my appearance when there is so little time to be had." Sansa looked away, it was said with the tone of a woman who'd been told that for years and had come to believe it in part.
She gave the cow a last pat before stepping to the fence and leaning against it. "Do you know how many hours I've spent doing pull ups?"
"Pull ups?" Sansa asked, her eyes bright in that way that Daisy was learning meant she was bemused.
She laughed, "Come on, I'll show you." Daisy slipped between the bars of the fence and out the other side. "My first SO was obsessed with them, he was irritatingly right." It was six steps to a slight overhang. She hopped up, easily catching the edge and pulling herself up. She did an easy set of ten, before dropping down.
Sansa paused. "Impressive, I think?"
"It took work. Like felt like my arms were on fire when I first started. Hours and hours of work. The boys are going to really hate me when we get there. But it's something I'm good at now. I punch people, whole warrior/agent/knight thing. You're a leader, that comes with needing to look a certain way. The time you spend to look like a leader isn't wasted. I mean do you know how many drycleaning runs I've done for Coulson?" Daisy paused. "Picking up Coulson's clothing after it was cleaned."
Sansa actually stilled at that. "But your Coulson was human?"
"Yup." Daisy popped the 'p' with some prejudice. The confusion was occasionally hilarious.
The great lady finally sighed and shook her head. "Come, you should eat in the hall if you mean to leave soon."
"Let me guess, it's stew again?" Daisy was mostly adjusted to the oatmeal, weird savory porridge, meat pie, stew, and roast meat for minor celebration. The bread was fucking delicious. Like frankly the shitty bread they had on base could go die. Like just damn.
Sansa looked at her, the slightest pinch to her brow. "If you would prefer something else I'll see to it that the cooks prepare it."
"What? No it's fine. Honestly your food is so much better than space." Daisy's nose wrinkled at the memory of the food on the Zephyr. "Dry, the food was all very dry and bland."
Sansa hummed. "For all the wonders you've described I find it surprising the food was not better."
"I mean it could have been? It was just never a priority." Daisy did miss cereal though, something about milk here and it being warm and frothy was deeply weird to her. "Also while pull ups were taught to everyone cooking was not. Which looking back was a bad decision. I think we caught our kitchen on fire about once a week."
"Surely you had a cook?" Sansa asked.
Daisy couldn't help it, she threw her head back and laughed. Ignoring how the various peoples in the square turned silent to watch. She just...the image of Fury recruiting kitchen staff wasn't leaving her head. And thing was they had been a thing before Hydragate. So it was a distinct possibility.