Sansa remained placid as she read through the various orders Manderly and Greatjon had enacted in her absence. It was not all that she'd have done, but it was still well done. Winterfell was in a stronger position than it had been. "I see you've already sent the diplomatic party to the Iron Bank."
"Barret Moss, Lyessa Flint, and Brandon Bole left with fifty men at arms two weeks past. I know you had indicated you'd prefer an Umber to be a part of the party, but with Hother at the Karhold, Mors south with you and Greatjon here the big lug, there weren't any of high enough position in their House." Wyman Manderly's hands were clasped in front of his girth.
Greatjon scoffed. "They'll be to Whiteharbor if not half way to Essos by now. What's done is done."
"It's an acceptable choice." Sansa knew she'd been overly reliant on House Umber. Of the Northern Houses Cerwyn, Glover, Umber and Hornwood all owed her far too much to turn against her. And of those Houses Umber was the largest and had so far been the most useful. Still, she'd been showing too much preference for them. "What is this project? You've had land cleared, leveled and frames made?"
Wolkan stepped forward with a set of papers, setting them out on her desk. "The companion of her Holiness has taken insult at the realities of winter. And if I may, I understand far more why her Holiness hasn't killed him for the disrespect he shows. While out of his mind, his brilliance is...in just a few hours of effort he's given us great aid in assisting with the preparations for winter." He looked deeply impressed. "He's certain that her Holiness can turn sand and ash from the fires into glass in just minutes. We've taken the initiative to have five frames of glasshouses raised as well as foundations built. Should her Holiness consent we can have them finished in a few days' work."
"I'm sure she'll be either in the Broken Tower or with Fitz if she's not in the yard assisting with unloading the baggage train." Sansa moved to the next stack only to pause at the change in the air. "Was there something else required for the building of the glasshouses?"
Wyman spoke, his voice effusive. "It's just that perhaps it would be better coming from you."
"I don't have time to go through all the matters of Winterfell needed before the feast and find and speak to Daisy. Surely one of you is capable of asking her?" Sansa was exhausted and needed a stronger grasp on what matters had occurred while she'd been away before the small evening feast.
Wyman shuffled slightly. "My Lady, we're not the one she's partial to."
"For gods sake man." Greatjon cut in. "We're saying her Holiness is courting you and she's more likely to make us thousands of gold dragons worth of glass if you ask it of her."
Sansa had wondered when someone would properly state it. It'd been a rather unspoken reality for some time. It would forever baffle her the depth of kindness and general goodness she'd come to know lay inside their resident god. No doubt Daisy would accept the request without a flicker of hesitation, but it was reasonable the men around her would doubt it unless it was attached to her 'courting' of Sansa. The fact it would help with the impression she wished to give gave weight to her decision as well. "I'll ask her on the morrow then." She had no interest in telling them that their god simply didn't follow the same cultural rules they did. "In the mean time, what's this news of the Whitehills?"
"The only remaining member of the house, Torhen Whitehill, is in our dungeons. With news of House Stark's return, their vassal House Warrick turned on them and assisted House Forrester in retaking their lands."
Sansa barely kept a sigh held in. "And now House Warrick wishes reward for turning against House Bolton's loyal bannerman and pardon for their service and fealty to House Bolton." She considered the ramification of what she knew about the in fighting House Bolton had encouraged to cut down Houses loyal to the Starks. "House Forrester will require reward for loyalty."
"They bent the knee." Greatjon scoffed at perceived weakness.
She stared at him. "Their Lord was a boy who's father died at the Red Wedding, whose eldest brother was assumed dead at that same massacre and you want me to withhold aid because a boy bent the knee to save his House? A boy who Ramsey killed because he tried to protect his sister from him? Or should I cast out and condemn and punish all who bent the knee? That would include your uncle Hother wouldn't it?" Sansa knew her voice was cold and she didn't care. They'd all done things they weren't proud of to survive.
Greatjon lowered his head. "Right, you've made your point my Lady."
"Don't think you or yours above reproach Lord Umber." She had a point to make. "Or have I been mistaken in the trust I've shown you?"
His shoulders tightened. "No."
"Good." She looked to her Senchal who had been silent up till now. "Ser Flint, what news of the household?"
Sansa had a pounding headache by the time the bare minimum of information had been conveyed to her. "What else is pressing for me to understand?"
"Your brother Rickon." Wyman had long since taken a seat, his hands folded on top of his stomach once more. "He's made some progress with his lessons, much better progress in the sparring yard. He's a good lad, not smart like you are but he's a clever little biter."
Sansa braced herself. "What are you getting at Lord Manderly?"
"He's half wild." Wyman winced. "I'm sure given time he could grow into a proper Lord. We Northerners don't care for airs or pithy pouncery." He waved towards Greatjon. "I'd still have sat the boy back in Winterfell as Lord if you hadn't done it already. But what he needs to learn is patience and wisdom, a lesson I believe you are better able to teach than I."
"A lesson hard taught." Sansa set her hands down upon the surface of her desk. "We Starks are slow learners, but it is a lesson that he'll learn." She wondered if he knew the warning he was giving her? In the end it didn't matter, she'd received the warning all the same. Until the Lord's Moot and Rickon was named Lord, factionalism was a risk. Afterall, why not choose Jon, a man grown over a boy half grown and wild? A choice that for the coming war likely held wisdom, but which would lead to chaos and endless succession issues in the next generations. "Thank you for your advice, but if that is all I believe we have a feast to begin?"
Sansa's headache had eased, it certainly helped that she was seated with Daisy to one side and Rickon to the other. While she was certainly expected to speak with others at the high table she was more than able to listen to Rickon happily telling her about his training and lessons without seeming rude. It helped Daisy had taken one look at her face and gotten the Lords on her side of the high table telling war stories. Because of course she had. Being lovely like that without being asked was just who she was. It was practically unfair.
"Do you think I could do my lessons in your solar? I promise I'll be quiet." Rickon asked excitedly as he cut his meat into pieces.
She had the slightest of smiles on her face as she looked at his face that was his, real and alive and so distinctly happy. "For some small meetings and matters of business your presence while you work on your letters will be welcome. Afterall, it will be your solar when you are grown and Lord here."
His nose scrunched slightly. "I'm not good at all the Lord stuff like you are."
"And you will be as well if you listen to your lessons instead of escaping them." Sansa chided gently, though not seriously. It was a feast, the mood merry and celebratory in what small way they could afford without being wasteful. "So Maester Wolkan tells me you can name the Houses of the North now?"
"Aye, it's boring though. Fitz let's me help in his workshop sometimes if I don't ask too many questions." Rickon perked up. "He said he'd let me help with his ex..experiment. It's the scientific method. You have an idea, you test it, and then you know if it was right or not. That's what an experiment is, a test."
Sansa wondered at that, she'd had limited exposure to Fitz, but he'd not struck her as the sort that liked children. But the lesson he'd taught her brother was one that held merit. "What is the experiment he means to do?"
"Make lightning!" Rickon straightened in his seat. "I'm helping make grounding rods. It's to keep it from hurting people or starting a fire. Because metal is a conductor. It means lightning goes through it, like water down a river."
Sansa hummed, watching his face as it lit in excitement. "Is that all you are assisting with?"
"Well I get to help with the straining, and he thought writing letters endlessly was pointless and I'd do better training the muscles in my hand doing more than just letters again and again. So he has me copying his notes on the materials needed for the experiments, and redrawing designs of things he's going to make. The water wheel for getting lightning from the river has a lot of small pieces. I keep mucking up the circles. But Fitz says I'm getting better."
It was slightly ironic, she'd gone and installed a spy, risking the disfavor of a god and the anger of Fitz when she likely hadn't needed it at all. Her brother was doing it on his own and for fun. No doubt he was being given irrelevant things to keep him out of the way. But he was learning and practicing his lessons from Maester Wolkan all the same. And fortunately it would keep him out from under the feet of visiting Lords when he wasn't with her, Wolkan, or in the gods wood. "I'm sure you've grown greatly. You're already picking up your lessons very quickly."
"But everyone else is so much better than me." Rickon's eyes turned down to his meal, away from her face.
Sansa reached out gently tipping his chin up and his gaze back to her. "According to Wolkan and Lord Manderly you've escaped half your lessons, have stalked and terrified half the staff of the castle, hidden from Brienne, and for all that, you've still learned what they had hoped you would during my absence. You are measuring yourself against students who have already learned what you are just beginning to learn."
"Oh.." He blinked, staring at her before sniffing and pulling back ever so lightly, his cheeks pink.
She smiled genuinely then. "Although you will not stalk the servants either in your own skin or Shaggydog's." Honestly she found it amusing that he'd taken to that particular mischief. No one had been harmed and Wyman had taken to simply offering stiff cups of wine to those who needed it after being frightened. Not acceptable, but expected mischief from a boy Rickon's age. She certainly remembered the terror Robb and Theon had wrecked before their father had taken them to task for it. "It is behavior unacceptable for a Lord of Winterfell."
Rickon pouted, but nodded. "Alright."
Lord Brandon Tallhart, one of the newly arrived Lords, spoke up. "You must be a talented hunter, Lord Stark?"
"I fed Osha and I during our years on Skagos." Rickon's chin tipped up. He had every right to be proud. No other boy of so few years could have hoped to provide meat for two humans and a wolf. His warging had likely saved his life.
Lord Tallhart, and honestly he was of an age with Sansa, spoke then, looking at Rickon with something like sympathy on his northern face. "Your survival in these blood soaked and cursed years is remarkable. An unexpected Lordship awarded in tragedy is a hard thing to accept, we have that in common."
"You're the youngest son too?" Rickon asked an unforgivably uneducated question in a different situation, but in this one a sign of a young and unprepared Lord caring for his people. At least Sansa hoped that was what the Lords would see it as.
She spoke anyways. "My brother is still finishing his education on the Lords of his noble Houses."
"I understand." Lord Tallhart gave her the slightest dip of his head before returning his attention to Rickon. "My Lord Uncle was Lord of our House, but he, his only son and my father all perished between the War of Five Kings and the Ironborn. It left my cousin Eddara as the new Lady of our House. But like you are Lord Stark instead of your sister, Eddara was vulnerable with the Boltons in power so we married to ensure our House was secure." His face serious then. "Family are the only ones you can trust in troubled times."
Rickon straightened. "The pack survives."
"Aye, you have the right of it there Lord Stark." Lord Tallhart easily agreed.
Sansa spoke then, she recognized his manner of speech as more southern than was typical. "You fostered in the Riverlands with House Blackwood if I remember correctly?"
"Well remembered." And he looked properly impressed then. "Aye, my uncle hoped to improve relations for trade with our neighbors to the south."
Sansa had near forgotten that piece of information, but it was one that could be important in gaining aid from what was left of the armies of the Riverlands. Also this man's clear support for Rickon made him useful in other ways for her. She and Jon may have retaken the North, but Rickon would need support on his own merit. Though he had years to gain that support, because she would give him those years no matter what was required to do so. She looked away as cheers rose up from the crowded benches that extended out into the courtyard as fresh barrels of ale were rolled out.
Sansa picked up her own cup of ale and hit it against the top of the table twice before standing, every eye moving to her, voices quieting as they waited to hear what she would say. She raised her cup, her voice clear and perfectly meant to be heard across the hall. One of the many lessons she'd learned from Cersei in King's Landing. "Men of the North!"
In the pause most of the men banged their cups against the wooden tables in a cacophony of sound that faded after a moment.
"The North is united once more." Sansa felt lifted by the cheers that came from that. "To a strong, and united North." She lifted her cup higher and as she did so the over a hundred men in the hall did as well with cries of 'The North', 'The Red Wolf', and 'Stark', on their lips.
/
Rickon excitedly trotted into Fitz's workshop. "Do you still need help with the Tesla Coil?"
"No, but I need the m-mirror on the second table c-cleaned. Soap and w-water, then vinegar." Fitz replied from where he was working with the beakers of things he'd banned Rickon from so much as thinking about touching.
Rickon moved to the table to get started. "Are you happy Daisy is back?"
"Huh?" Fitz looked up, his eyes focusing away from his work. "Y-yes, I suppose I a-am." His head tilted, his hands coming to rest on his hips. "You know s-she is making our sand composite in-into glass today? I w-would think you would w-ant to be there?"
He frowned slightly. "But won't you be there for that?"
"I...yes, I will." Fitz seemed to consider saying something before just sighing and turning back to his work.
Rickon shrugged, and took the clean cloth and gently soaked it in the water. He'd make this the cleanest mirror in the castle. If he got done with this he could work on his sums some before he sat in Sansa's meetings with his letters. His sparring lessons were after the midday meal and if he knew Fitz he wouldn't be dragged out of his shop for the glass magic till then anyways. So he set to work on his task!
"Lord Stark, didn't think you'd be here today. What with your Lady sister home." Crann remarked as he came in, arms full of a crate of new supplies.
Rickon grinned at the apprentice. "I get to sit in on her meeting later so it's my only chance now. You'll still help me with my sums later?"
"Course, can't have our Lord not knowing his sums." Crann set the crate down and ruffled his hair. "You're even dressed like a proper lordling again."
He picked at the cuff of his shirt. "I need to look like a Lord don't I?"
"My f-father always said the suit d-defined the man." Fitz added from where he was carefully mixing two substances.
Rickon's ears perked up, he'd never heard Fitz talk about his family. "Was your father an important man?"
"Y-yes, a rich m-man." Fitz shook his head suddenly, pushing the palm of his hand against his forehead. "A b-bad man. Very b-bad. He l-left my mother and I. A-angry." Fitz shook himself. "It d-doesn't matter. C-clean the mirror."
Rickon shared a confused look with Crann, but did as told. He'd ask more later, Fitz didn't focus on his words much when he was thinking about something else. Besides, with how close Fitz was to his experiment, he was all fuzzy and bouncy right now. There'd be a chance later.
Rickon skidded to a halt as he realized a man was following him. He set his jaw and turned to face the man. "Do you require something?"
"My Lord." The bushy bearded man gave a slight bow of his head. "My name's Ser Kevan Swann of Stonehelm in the Stormlands. I fought for King Stannis and now for House Stark. Lady Stark assigned me to guard you."
Rickon's eyes narrowed as he took in the man he hadn't properly seen before, a faint flicker and he felt Shaggydog approaching. "If you're lying my sister will have your head."
"I have no doubt she would. But I am not lying, on my honor as a knight." The man bowed his head in a perfect court bow.
He'd know the truth of it when he reached his sister's solar in another hour or so. His eyes flicked to the sparring yard...he really wanted to watch. He bit his lip. "Would you teach me sword work? If you're a knight you can use a sword."
"I can do that, my Lord." The knight huffed with a tired amusement.
Rickon nodded, he had time. It'd be fine. He turned and made his way to where the sparring yard was set up. His face lit up as he saw Daisy was in the yard with the Greatjon! He took the last few steps with a leap in his step, Shaggydog reaching him and curling behind his back. Rickon ignored the sound of alarm the knight behind him made. He hadn't pounced, or purposely startled the man, Sansa couldn't be mad. He clamoured onto the wooden yard rail to watch, the Shield men were watching excitedly as well.
"Do you worship this god as well Lord Stark?" Ser Swann asked as he took his position besides him, watching the fight as well.
Rickon shook his head. "She's not an old god." Which it was really quite that simple, but she was something. But she didn't want to be worshipped if you listened to her so he had decided not to worry about it. 'Sides, Fitz said she was powerful not divine….he was pretty sure he knew what that meant.
"Wisely said my Lord." Ser Swann agreed as he crossed his arms. "And she's not a swordswoman."
Shaggydog snuffed.
Rickon flickered into his wolf and then back. Turning he beamed. "Fitz! What're you doing out of the workshop?"
"C-crann threatened my t-tea. Daisy t-told him to if I d-didn't get sunlight." Fitz looked frustrated, his fingers dancing at his sides with a nervous twitch. Bit like a rabbit that knew it was being hunted really.
Fitz's attention flicked to where Daisy was knocking Umber on his ass, again. His face scrunched up. His voice was a bit of a murmur. "W-what is she doing?"
"I believe she is sparring. While a gifted fighter, a poor swordswoman." Ser Swann answered with some disgust at the word 'swordswoman'.
Fitz strode towards the weapons wrack. "B-bloody ops agents." He grumbled as he moved.
Rickon watched fascinated as he rummaged through a crate of weapons before straightening with a sound of triumph, two short swords in his hands.
With a satisfied expression he marched straight into the sparring ring, ignoring Umber who'd just gotten to his feet. "Daisy, y-you should use these. It's d-dumb to keep using that s-sword." He thrust the short swords at her. "Y-you are the w-weapon, not w-wiedling it like these m-men."
Daisy passed her practice blade to Greatjon, and accepted the shorter swords from Fitz. "Really? This is what gets you out of your workshop?"
"I h-haven't made you i-idiot's weapons for y-years to see you use one t-that is unsuited for you." Fitz seemed to miss the sheer horror on every person's face as they watched. It was amazing. Fitz crossed his arms. "T-the balance is d-different than the b-batons you're used to. But y-you should be much b-better with these."
Daisy rolled her eyes, but twirled the blades around her with an ease, a frankly awe inspiring ease. "I'm not Bobbie, but this is better."
"Hmm." Fitz gave a sharp nod. "C-can I have my tea back now? It's t-terrorism to use Crann a-againt me like that."
She huffed. "Uh no, do you know what Jemma will do if I get you back to her all pale and sickly cause you keeled over from not enough sun? What's the saying 'sisters before misters'?"
"That...that is u-unfair." But Fitz softened slightly. "F-fine. We c-could do the glass n-now then?"
Rickon ignored the hard look on Ser Swann's face as he stared at the bickering between Daisy and Fitz, the sand into glass was going to be the best! If Fitz was right it'd all glow red hot! Near half an hour later Rickon bounced as he watched Daisy sit surrounded by the sand to be melted.
Her eyes were closed, Fitz standing next to her speaking quietly, but through Shaggydog's ears it was about vibrational speeds? Rickon would ask for details later. And then it started. The sand began to glow, and then it was faster and faster as it melted into a great white hot heat that forced all of them to step back from the sheer heat of it all.
Ser Swann's hand came to his chest, as he uttered under his breath, "R'hllor save us."
Rickong barely noticed, his eyes too wide at the sight before him. It was beautiful, like a star burning on land before them. A forge a thousand times larger. The heat baking upon his skin, making his face feel tight from it. It was so worth it to get to see this.