Alys Karstark didn't need to ask what had happened to her uncle or male cousins. Instead she was left with the knowledge she was at the mercy of Jon Stark, the bastard of Winterfell and an actual god. She was...exhausted, and hated herself for the shiver of relief she felt at her family's plans no longer hanging over her head. For now her responsibility lay with those of her House that remained. Her aunt, female cousins, the servants, and what of their men at arms who'd been roused for their defence that were left.
She straightened her dress, before loosening her hair before combing it out with her fingers. A night spent sleeping in a small space shared by all those the god had shepherded to safety had left her worn, sore, and not presentable for pleading the case of herself and her people. But she could ensure she was at least as neatly put together as possible.
The simple northern braid was easy, her hands making the motions without thought. Tying off her hair she rose before stepping to the bowl of water. Slashing the cold water against her skin, her eyes closed. She grabbed a towel and dried her skin with brick movements. Straightening she left the servant's bedroom she'd been allotted by the others due to her rank. Two of her younger cousins remained sleeping in the bed. She made eye contact with her aunt as she stepped into the solar. "The girls are asleep."
Celia Karstark flicked her eyes to a quiet corner of the solar.
Alys followed in the direction, keeping her chin and manner calm as she moved to where her aunt met her. Not that their conversation would be private truly, though at least the children would be spared from their words. Afterall they'd kept the servant children nearest the fire, and the children of their house in the servant quarters off the solar. "Aunt."
"He'll want to speak to you." Celia's voice was tight, nearly a whisper. The grim light in her face surely echoed in Alys's own.
Her mouth tightened. "Aye." Afterall with her eldest brother Harry imprisoned by the Lannisters and the rest of her immediate family dead, it left her the only member of the main family left. With her uncle and male cousins likely dead that fact suddenly left her arguably the Head of House Karstark.
Neither of them said more. For what was there to say? Their men had lost, and lost badly. Not that they could have expected the god. The giant however they had known of, not that it mattered now. Instead of speaking she reached out, taking her aunt's hand. Alys didn't know how long it was before the door opened. And two men in Stark colors entered.
One of them looked at her with the slightest frown. "Alys Karstark? Lord Stark would speak with you."
"Very well." She stepped forward, refusing to bow to mere soldiers. Even at the end she still had her pride, for what little time it would be permitted to her.
And so she was escorted through the halls of her own home. The men were far more on guard around her than typical, it was like they thought her a threat, then again their god was a woman so perhaps it made some sense after all. It hurt to see the halls of her home with splashes of blood on the stone, tapestries that'd hung there her entire life simply gone. Her home had been lost to her, even if the stones still stood. Reaching what had once been her father's solar she tipped her chin up ever so slightly, and then the men opened the door and she walked into the room.
The solar looked nearly the same as it had under her uncle, save for anything with the House Sigel was torn down and replaced with the direwolf of House Stark. Sitting at the desk of her forefathers was Jon Snow, or Stark, or whatever name he claimed now. His features familiar, the Stark colors and long face so often seen in House Stark, or Karstark for that matter. After all they were all of the same blood. Though he was far prettier than any Stark had the right to be, but then it'd have taken a lady of great beauty to lure a man like Ned Stark into straying from his vows.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the god who the Starks had found favor with. She wasn't in the plain northern practical style like Jon Stark was. Instead she had a sleeveless tunic on, her white linen shirt sleeves apparent. The tunic was similar to what she'd given them to prove her protection, a weirwood in fabric. She was reading through what was almost certainly Alys's uncle's correspondence.
Alys dropped into a perfect, and deep curtsy. "Lord Stark, your Holiness."
"You can rise." Jon's voice came, though she hadn't dared to look higher than the floor once she had lowered herself.
She straightened, her finger tips trembling ever so slightly. But she refused to look away now that she was permitted to look. For she could be brave like any of her forebears. "You summoned me?"
"I was told you'd taken responsibility for the women, children and others?" His solemn voice asked.
Alys face was clear as she replied. "To the extent that I am able, my Lord."
"Very well, then I will treat with you as such." Jon straightened in his seat, though his shoulders remained low, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. "House Karstark will not remain when the sun sets tonight. I have captured your cousin Arthor, the rest of the men of your house are dead. Arthor will not keep his head. The wealth of House Karstark is forfeit, the castles and lands owned by your line are forfeit and will be held by allies of House Stark until we gift them to loyal men." He paused, brow furrowing.
She didn't need him to say the next part. "I understand those of us who remain will be returned to Winterfell as your prisoners. I would ask what shall become of the small folk and servants?"
"The small folk and servants may remain so long as they bend the knee and repledge their loyalty to House Stark." Jon's head tilted ever so slightly, she'd gained his attention without planning for it.
Still, she felt relief at that even if she could have guessed at this result. A man who bothers to ensure the safety of the women and children would not slaughter small folk for sport. "Am I to be wed to you then, my Lord?"
The god startled at that. "Woah, wait what?"
Jon grimaced.
Alys spoke, she wasn't afraid of the truth of her situation. "It has long been the custom of House Stark to marry the daughters of fallen enemies into their line. As only daughter of the main line of House Karstrark I am left with the best claim to the North after those of House Stark. A marriage to Lord Stark to ensure any claim lies in my blood can never be used, as well as to end the line of House Karstark would not be amiss." She looked at the face of the man who held her fate in his hands.
The god straightened then. "Jon, I like you but if you think I'll just stand by while you marry off all those woman to be whatever life that'd be I will punch you in the face." Her voice had a distinctly dangerous under current for all that it was still friendly.
Jon raised his hands. "Sansa! I'm delivering them safely to Winterfell." His face turned pained. "But marriage to allies is likely their future."
"I could not hope for a better match than Lord Stark." Alys said carefully, her words slow but clear as she realized this wasn't the negotiation of her capitulation she'd thought. "Lord Stark is an honorable man. He is the best I could hope for your Holiness." She turned her gaze to the man instead of the god. "You hold my future in your hands Lord Stark."
Jon's face was...closed. Finally he responded. "Your future is in my sister's hands."
Alys gave the slightest dip of her head at that. The best future of her family was gone then. The trembling of her fingers was worse. She hid her hands in the folds of her dress. She could show no weakness. Not here. "When do we depart for Winterfell?"
"A week." Jon replied, he folded his hands behind himself as he stepped around the desk. "You have my word no harm shall come to you or those under your protection."
She didn't have anything to say to that hollow promise, even if she was grateful for it. "Thank you my Lord." She lowered her eyes once more.
/
Lord Manderly looked at the frames for glass houses that he'd ordered begun. If what this Fitz had said was true, a simple wave of their god's hands and simple sand and ash could become glass. Great sheets of the stuff that'd cost a fortune to purchase and transport otherwise. It cut the cost and simply effort in creating a glass house that he could barely comprehend the boon it'd be to surviving winter. "I'd offer her Holiness anything in my posession for her to aid my House in this way."
"Figure she'll probably do it for ya for nothing if you just ask in front of Lady Stark." Lord Umber replied, an amused light in his eye. "Seems pretty keen on aiding her Ladyship."
Lord Manderly's beard twitched. "Aye, she is at that."
/
Daisy frowned from her seat on the windowsill. "Will you be fine without me?" She found this day had left a sour taste in her mouth.
Jon was quietly standing by the fire. "Aye, the Karhold is ours. Travel back to Winterfell should be secure enough." He looked at her, his thoughts heavy on his face. "A marriage between Alys and I is likely."
"Do you want to marry her?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "She can't say no to you."
He just seemed..confused. "It's how things are."
"Do you want to?" Daisy was going to have strangle him, and then promptly intervene as wingman if he wanted to marry the girl. Like...jesus she'd have to make sure Alys could say no, then make Jon like...smile.
He flinched. "No. I doubt I could ever love a woman with my whole heart again."
"Ah…I'm sorry for your loss." Because Daisy understood enough from that one sentence.
Jon met her gaze and they understood each other. "I'm sorry for yours."
"How long ago?" Daisy hurt asking, but she saw the same grief in him as she had now that she knew to look for it.
His eyes closed, his face wounded. "Nearly four years now. She was a Wildling, she died in my arms." His frame shook ever so slightly. "You?"
"A little over two years, he…" She swallowed. It hurt, it hurt a lot but the pain had...it wasn't sharp like it used to be. It wasn't just pain anymore. It was guilt not loss that made her throat feel tight still. "There was an ancient god Hive. Lincoln died killing him. It should have been me, but he took my place."
Jon didn't ask for more, not that she was sure she could put it into words. He simply remained silent.
She dropped from the window sill. "I'll bring your letter to Sansa." Daisy paused. "You're a good man Jon, don't...I don't have a good solution for you but we didn't save those people just to sell them off."
"It's how things are done." Jon gave her a slight nod. "But Aye, that's not why we saved them."
Daisy braced herself letting her powers hum beneath her skin, and then let them free. It sent her flying up through the air, wind and snow whipping by her. It nearly felt like it was cutting into her from the cold and speed at which she was going. Which she was getting the hang of this flying thing. Made sense, she was doing it constantly since she'd reached this place. And a tiny part of her still was quietly freaking out over the fact she could fly...jump...whatever.
It was hard to judge exactly what was below her, the lack of electric lights made traveling at night difficult. Even the great castles couldn't hold a candle to the light from a single shopping mall. But, maps and making the journey almost half a dozen times in the last month left her familiar with the journey. A fact that was validated as she alighted on the top of the broken tower...her tower, at Winterfell. Closing her eyes she focused on the feel of Winterfell.
She could feel Fitz in the workshop, Hogg and Wilbur were with Maester Wolkan...she was slightly afraid of what they were probably cooking up for her cult. But safe. There was Rickon with his giant wolf sleeping in the gods wood, Brienne not far from finding him. It was exactly as it should be. Nothing felt out of place. It helped she knew these people, this place. The vibrations here were familiar, easier to understand. The unique heartbeats all identifiable, and it was safe.
Daisy considered going down, getting into dry and warm clothing, having warm soup, and spending the night here before moving on. But...she still felt...raw from mentioning Lincoln to Jon. It felt like it was bubbling there. Having to act like she was fine was...not great. Besides...Fitz… Which that was a can of worms she wasn't pretending was fine tonight. It was better to finish her journey to Barrowtown. There's be dry clothing there, as well as zero point in trying to hide her morose mood from Sansa. Also no judgement or likely political problems from Sansa realizing she wasn't content 100% of the time.
Sighing, decision made she aimed her hands downwards once more and launched herself in the direction of Barrowtown. It'd take a few jumps. But she'd get there. Barrowtown would have hot soup just the same as Winterfell. They really did eat way too much of the stuff here. Closing her eyes she enjoyed the rush of the wind, the roar of her passing through the air. She was getting closer and closer to true flight the more she learned to maneuver herself once in the air. The great arches she moved in were near meditative when she just let herself fly with the momentum.
It took her three great leaps to land on the rolling hills near the fortress. She tsked under her breath. About a half mile to one side and slightly off, this was so much easier during the day. Huffing she turned to make the short hike into the fortress. It'd be good for her to stretch her legs a bit...if she started shivering worse she could always hop the rest of the way. As she moved forward she closed her eyes, automatically checking the vibrations of the castle. It was more familiar to her than the Karhold, but she was familiar enough to pick up the heartbeats of the people she knew fairly quickly.
Daisy stilled completely. Sansa's vibrations were wrong, they weren't the usually tightly controlled vibrations more similar to a trained sniper's than a civilians. Her heart was too fast, the breathing was wrong, too fast, too panicked. Daisy's eyes snapped open, her powers launching her forward faster than she'd been flying earlier. She ignored manners, instead she just went straight for the window. She grabbed onto the stone sill of the window, the lock on the window snapping without thought and then she was through and into the room, her senses desperately searching out the attacker.
There was none. Daisy's slightly panicked stance eased slightly. Turning her eyes spotted Sansa. It was probably dumb luck Sansa hadn't screamed, though she was certainly alarmed at her sudden appearance. Daisy winced, but something was still wrong. "Are you hurt? Do you need a Maester?"
Sansa let out a choked sound, her eyes wide. And then a strangled laugh, her head falling against one hand.
Daisy blinked, that wasn't...She took in the room properly, not simply assessing for threats. This wasn't the solar or any of the various attached rooms she was typically found running a damn country from. It was her bedroom. There was a fire flickering in the hearth, a large bed covered in blankets and furs, wooden furniture but so clearly not a place meant for other people. And now that she was looking for it, Sansa was in a nightgown, hair loose and falling around her shoulders.
But...well Sansa did not look ok. There was a near manic look to her, and that was a bloody rag in her hand.
Daisy cautiously stepped closer. "Sansa? What's going on?"
"I…" Sansa half slumped against the table with a ceramic bowl on it. "I'm not pregnant."
And Daisy suddenly felt nauseous. "Ramsey?" It'd been months.
Sansa's whole frame shuddered, and it was so clear she had been crying before Daisy had crashed into the room. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, knuckles turning white from attempting to hold herself up. And then she crumpled an agonized keen coming from her chest.
Daisy didn't think, she just moved forward catching Sansa before she could hit the ground. Her hands caught the shaking form of her friend. Carefully she helped Sansa at least to the carpet before letting her slump to the floor. Her sobs wrecked her. Daisy looked up and grabbed a blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around Sansa's shoulders and then sat down beside her.
She was quiet as she simply sat there, letting the other woman sob. It was ugly and gnarled up with pain and Daisy knew there was nothing that would make it better. Just that it needed to come out. It wasn't the first, or the last time she'd been there when a friend had fallen apart. It was usually mission related. But even before that, back in St Agnes it had been familiar. She'd cracked enough times she simply ached for her friend.
The sound of wrecked sobs had long since faded, leaving them in the silent room, the only sound now the crackling from the fireplace.
Sansa's voice cracked, a hoarse quality to it from crying as she spoke. "You touched me. You haven't done that since Ramsey."
"I'm sorry? I know you don't like to be touched, I just kinda acted." Daisy winced slightly, she'd known enough to avoid touching the other woman since she'd first seen her. The memory of catching Sansa's wrist to stop her from stabbing the corpse of Ramsy for the whatever dozenth of time, flickered to mind. It'd been...the only other time she'd ever seen Sansa without her social mask on in the least.
Sansa let out disbelieving huff, staring at her like she was missing something obvious. "I appreciate my knees not being bruised." She looked at Daisy for a long moment. "Why are you still here?" Her fingers dug into the fabric of the blanket around her shoulders.
Daisy knew reaching out like she would with a teammate would be unhelpful. That would be the opposite of a good idea considering the context. "Because no one should be alone when they fall apart." She shifted slightly, looking at her friend cautiously, but it needed to be asked. "Was pregnancy a worry?"
"Yes." Sansa's body tensed, and then she just looked lost. "I took moontea but I never bled and I couldn't be sure."
Daisy shifted slightly. "If it's ever a concern, ask me next time, please. I can feel heartbeats, even small ones."
"I...I'm stupid." Sansa replied with a conviction that was depressingly apparent.
She turned fully to face her then. "You're not stupid. Hell I couldn't do half the things you do. I couldn't even keep a single team together and you're forging a nation! You're a better leader than me and I'm apparently a god. I don't think that sounds stupid at all."
Sansa stared into the fire, her face as bitter as her tone. "I chose to be married to him. I didn't want to, but it sounded like a chance and I let him convince me. I knew better, but I did it anyways and what good did it do? I may not carry his child or feel him in my body any longer but I carry his marks." She spat out the last part.
Daisy wrapped her arms around her knees and followed her friend's example. "I don't know what you went through. It's not...but I do understand."
"How? You're a god." Sansa sounded more exhausted than angry at it. But anger was still there.
She didn't talk about it. Everyone had known, what had there been to say? And talking about it… But for the person besides her who was cracked in a hundred familier ways she found herself talking. If she still had a therapist he'd be proud. "There was an ancient god, Hive." She didn't know how to put enough weight on the name to convey how dangerous he'd been. "He was a monster, needed human bodies to possess, to have physical form. But it wasn't just his hosts he could control."
Sansa was silent, but the weight of her focus was there in the air between them.
"I was the leader of a team of inhumans, demi-gods I guess." Daisy scratched at her arm trying to detach herself and failing miserably. "Joey could melt metal, Elena could move faster than any arrow in the space between a heart beat and the next, and then Lincoln. Lincoln controlled lightning. The gods that made us were the Kree, we were just cannon fodder for their wars. Powerful, human life spans, easy to enslave and control. At least they thought so at first. But they made Hive and he was the first of us. He could use the human dead as hosts for his mind. But he could enslave the other inhumans. Just a few seconds for his powers to latch onto you and it was like...every bad thing didn't matter. He was what mattered. But he fought off the Kree, banished them from our world, and then turned to control it. The inhumans that weren't under his sway banished and imprisoned him. And it worked, for thousands of years but then he got free. I...we were going to stop him. He couldn't be allowed to conquer our world. But just seconds...I didn't know, didn't see him fast enough."
The silence wasn't interrupted as Daisy tried to order her thoughts. "I was still me...but I was his. He needed blood so I gave him mine. He needed things from SHIELD, so I hurt my family, team for it. He wanted people dead so I killed them. I am dangerous, and he made me his weapon. He could have asked anything I'd have given it, done it. Been happy to do so. Andrew died to free me from Hive's control." She swallowed thickly.
"You didn't choose that." Sansa finally said softly.
Daisy felt her eyes burning as she remembered what had happened after. "No I didn't. But when I went back to him, when I begged for him to take me back I did. I couldn't live with what I'd done." She ignored the sharp inhale. She'd never told anyone she'd gone back. "He couldn't though, Andrew's powers made it so I couldn't be taken back. So I fought him, not to stop him, not to save people, but to make him suffer like I was suffering outside of his control. And I thought...I thought I could die, stop all of it. If I took him high enough, into the stars and blew us up with well...basically wildfire. We'd be too high to be saved even if the explosion didn't kill us. It worked." Her throat closed then. "But Lincoln took my place. So no, I don't know what it means to be raped. But understanding having your body not be your own. To not be in control of what's done to you." She scoffed wetly then. "And then I guess there was the whole Fitz thing."
Neither of them said anything then. Just sitting on the floor by the fire. It was...Daisy ached at the memory of her stupidity. She'd gone back, she'd begged for it. And it'd gotten Lincoln killed. Lincoln who hadn't deserved any of it.
Sansa broke the silence finally, her voice soft. "I told Queen Cersei everything. I thought I was in love with Jeoffry, that being sent home would ruin everything. Instead I gave her what she needed to destroy my family. I was just a tool after that, for the child I could bare for someone else to control the North with."
"It's fucked up." Daisy offered, she didn't have anything else to offer. "They say it gets better, that you move past it."
Sansa turned, facing her again, "Do you believe that?"
"Maybe?" Daisy shrugged, focusing on the slope of the other woman's nose instead of the pain. "I tried running from it, to get myself killed in a 'noble' way. Ended up half dead chasing evil men with a demon. Didn't help."
Sansa made a sound of understanding. "My first husband would say to use it as armor so no one else can hurt you with it."
"How's that going for you?" Daisy couldn't help asking.
Sansa let a fairly unlady-like sound that was nearly a snort. "We're here aren't we."
"And they aren't." Daisy wondered sometimes how much that mattered. But it was a comfort, a cold one, but one nonetheless.
"Hmmm." Sansa adjusted the blanket before settling again. "They all take and take. Sometimes it feels like there will be none of me left after it all."
She could feel that, had seen it. How much had it all stolen from Jemma? Fitz? Her? "I don't have an answer to that." Daisy looked over her shoulder at Sansa. Her red hair, falling down her back, face more vulnerable than she'd seen it before, looking softer. So achingly beautiful and filled with such familiar pain. "But I think you have more ahead of you than just being picked apart."