Loras' throat felt dry as he stood guard behind the shoulder of the Hand of the Queen. The chaos of the night had been nipped firmly in the bud, a very alive Queen, god, and whatever the hell Fitz was had obviously helped. But Sansa doubling the guard, ordering the great hall emptied, securing every person who could possibly be considered a threat detained away from the rest of the population of Winterfell, the forced closing of every tavern inside of five miles from the castle, and doing all of it within less than two hours of the attempt had given utter control of the situation to the Queen and put a sharp end to any chaos before it could even really start. It was terrifyingly efficient.
He was trying not to think about how the air was still weighted with power. It was an unnecessary threat, what with four servants currently cleaning the….goop?...what was left of the men who'd tried to harm the Queen. The god was sitting on the edge of the table, feet on the bench so Wolkan could better inspect the several arrows! sticking out of her. She spoke up as Wolkan hunted for scissors to cut the fabric away within his bag. "So Sansa, Fitz and I were the only ones attacked?"
"It appears so." Jon's face was furrowed with anger as he stood torn between where his sister stood with the god and his brother who was being sat on by two horse sized wolves. "One of the men you threw off the wall survived, as did Ser Musgood. They could give us answers."
Sansa looked to Manderly. "Signs of unrest within the castle?"
Loras bit back a scoff at that. Unrest? The whole castle was an angry beehive itching to kill anyone or anything that so much as looked at their Queen wrong. For fucks sake the literal god brimming with fury was the only reason they'd been able to prevent half the army from insisting on camping in a livid mass around the Queen's person. She and her family were loved. The Stormlanders being in the dungeon was likely the only reason the men hadn't been proactively purged. The guards keeping them in were also keeping the other men out. His being here was certainly the only reason why he hadn't been stabbed just for being foreign. Even the Wildlings were sparking with dislike.
"You'll need to handle the surviving traitors soon, your Grace. The men will kill all of them, guilty and innocent alike if not." Lord Manderly replied.
She let out an audible sigh. "Of course. Jon, can you handle questioning our prisoners and dividing them between guilty and innocent? The guilty we can execute tomorrow. Get this whole incident over with."
"Aye, but in just a night...I can't promise I'll know who exactly was involved." His hand fisted at his side.
Daisy perked up slightly. "Human lie detector here, finding out exactly who was involved shouldn't be hard."
"Holiness, you're badly injured." Wolkan protested weakly as he brandished the scissors and approached her side to cut the fabric away from her wounds.
Daisy rolled her eyes. "I've had worse. Seriously, can I just yank them out so we can get a move on to interrogating them?"
"You will not." Sansa's head snapped towards the god. "You have three arrows in your shoulder! You will let the Maester remove them before you go traipsing down to the dungeons to threaten men who are going nowhere."
The oppressive feel of the air faltered for a second, and then the god huffed in amusement, a slight smile on her face. "I really need to stop getting yelled at to stop bleeding."
Lyanna Mormont spoke up. "I find it disturbing how well planned this attack was." Her tiny frame could barely contain her fury. Someday when she ended up as tall as Brienne she'd be fucking terrifying.
"There is that. This wasn't done in haste." Lord Forrester crossed his arms from where he'd been silently watching the proceedings. As most of the council, there was little to be done till the men in the dungeon spoke.
They all pretended not to notice the god hiss slightly as the fabric was cut away from her wound. The lack of additional reaction to what had to be very painful was alarming to Loras however, it spoke to a long history of injury. Or possibly additional powers.
His stomach twisted at the notion. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Vomiting in front of a war god was a level of low he refused to descend to. Also the idea of drawing a being powerful enough to turn living men, their armor, clothing, all of it to a shiny paste was horrifying. He very much would like to remain a silent and unnoticed fixture. Living gods weren't part of his education in Highgarden. A near hysterical sound wanted to escape his lips at the thought of his grandmother witnessing this madness.
"Aye. It was smart distracting you with that spart." Tormund grunted from where he had been chewing on a chicken leg...he and the odd stuttering ma, Fitz, seemed to have decided the uneaten dinner in the hall was worthy of their attention for this conversation. Despite the nauseating human paste on the floor and horrifyingly real and upset god just feet away from them. "Stupid thinking just five of them could take a god though."
Jon's frown deepened somehow. "Which means they knew exactly who was guarding Sansa today." He looked away from his sister to Lord Cerwyn and Bower who'd been going over the records of the guard. "How long could they reasonably have known they'd have a window of opportunity for this? Daisy is regularly in the sparring yard, and Fitz is always in his workshop. Sansa's guard rotation had to have decided it. Peasbody wasn't even her normal evening guard."
"Eight days if they saw the papers on Bower's desk. Four if not." Cerwyn replied, his voice clipped with the same anger infecting everyone.
Loras tuned out of the conversation mostly, he was...he'd been in King's Landing for the death of one, nearly two monarchs now. Robert's death had caused no mourning, simply chaos as the realm fell into civil war. He doubted any man save Ned Stark had given a shit the fat oaf of a King had died. Every man's first thought had been how to gain power, his included. Then Joffrey's murder...Cersie had mourned, the vicious cunt. But the rest of the city? It'd been like a dark pall had lifted. Tywin, with Tyrell support, hadn't dealt with a day of unease before Tommen was securely planted on the throne.
But this? There would have been no power struggle if Sansa Stark had perished. Jon Stark would have placed his brother on the throne. The entire kingdom of the North would have simmered in resentment and rage for the coming winter, their mourning turned to rage at the loss of their Queen. And after-
Loras considered that. What would Maraery think of this? Who would gain power if that happened? If Rickon was King no one would expect or want him to rule in a time of strife like this. Not with the Dead coming and a furious god. Jon would be handed the regency for his brother. He'd need to ensure the Stark dynasty. With only two living members left, it'd no longer be something that could be put off. His marriage though….a Riverlands girl would be best. Or, if Manderly was smart, one of his granddaughters could be put forward. Either could be made to work.
In a situation where the North's beloved Queen was gone, Jon would be forced to lead. And while he seemed an impressive military commander, Loras was doubtful he'd prove a good regent. Jon was everything Ned Stark had been and Ned Stark had lacked the mind for kingship that his daughter held. The North might finish consolidating power, they had the road already planned out and prepared for them by Sansa. If the god was pacified they might even still survive against the coming Dead. But then once winter ended and summer came again?
The knot in his stomach intensified. He wasn't sure the Targaryen conquest would have rivaled the casualties the kingdoms just avoided. And he wasn't even thinking about the horror the god might unleash. Just the men.
The Riverlands would join the North again. Their own Lord Edmure was a lackwit who'd lost all pride, honor, and spine over his time as a prisoner. The man was broken. If he was even alive come summer he wouldn't be able to hold the Riverlands. But Rickon Stark? If Edmure was passed over it left two living Lords of Tully blood, Robyn Aryn a sickly insane little boy who'd taken his mother's teat until her death and who was not expected to live long, and Rickon Stark. Rickon who while wild and half feral was strong, intelligent, seemed to be kind, and would no doubt be rigorously trained up by his brother and court. No, the Riverlands would follow a Stark again.
He blinked. Gods be good, the Vale would as well. Robyn would either be dead leaving the Vale split with no clear succession or have lived through a winter proving his utter incompetence and madness to men who would need to depend on him. Either way a Stark holding the blood of their late Lady, and beloved Lord's ward would be appealing. Ned Stark was raised in the Vale, the Vale had adored him. It wouldn't be without question for them to either bend the knee to a wolf king or force their Lord to do it. After all, Lyssa was dead and unable to prevent it this time. A Vale bride and it would be certain instead of mostly certain. Three kingdoms under Stark banners.
Jon Stark would ensure House Frey was cast into their river. Between a giant and a god, it'd be the thing of hours. After the loss of two brothers, his father, and both his sisters there would be no question he'd get past his noble inclinations. Inclinations his Lords or Wildlings didn't hold. The Westerlands and Stormlands would be raised to the ground, and with Loras here as a hostage, the Tyrell host would be unlikely to stop it. Even with the political sense of a soldier, Jon could realistically reduce two kingdoms to ash while putting his brother on the damned Iron Throne if he was particularly good at it. It was...sobering to think of. And that wasn't including the god.
Loras's eyes snapped to Sansa. His mouth opened slightly. If Jon could do this, Jon, then Sansa certainly could. If she chose to turn on the south…
His horrifying realization of the shape things were taking was interrupted by a sharp cry of "Motherfucker!"
Daisy's teeth were clenched as Wolkan finished the quick incision beside the entry wound of an arrow and then yanked the thing out of her shoulder. There was...less blood than Loras would have expected.
Wolkan dropped the arrow, reaching for his stitching tools only to be halted by the god.
"Keep going, get them all out or I'll heal around them further and this is going to suck even more. We've waited longer than we should have anyways." She shook her head, seeming to banish the pain. "Let's go Doc."
Loras wondered absently, and slightly hysterically, that unlike everyone else in the hall who were looking at the god in a sorted muted horror and awe, Sansa actually looked like she was contemplating yelling at her. That was not something he was sticking his nose into. Instead, he just watched in disgust and awe as the Maester made quick, painful, and bloody work of getting the remaining two arrows out of the god.
/
Jon was stiff as he strode into the Winterfell dungeons. They were kept clean and lit when in use, but there was a pervading dampness to them. A chill that didn't go away. His steps echoed off the stone as he reached the first cell. He looked at the guard who unlocked the door and opened it for him.
He stepped in, the silent steps of Daisy behind him. Jon didn't say anything till the door had shut behind him. Not that the metal cage of a door would offer any privacy, it simply felt like a ringing finality to the fact he had to ask questions he wasn't sure he was ready for the answers for. He just looked at a man he hoped had had nothing to do with it. "Did you know?"
"No." Davos shook his head vehemently. "I knew naught of it. I'll swear any oath you want. But if you require my life I'll offer it willingly."
Daisy spoke up. "Truth."
Jon breathed out, his shoulders slumping. He stepped forward grabbing Davos's forearm and hauling the man to his feet. "Good to know I was right to trust you."
Davos wavered, relief washing across his face. But he accepted the hand, a grunt coming from him as he came to his feet. "Well, that's good. Can't say I wanted to lose my head."
"Do you know anything that could help?" Daisy asked as she waved her hand, his chains hitting the ground.
He blinked. "Can't say I rightly know if I do. We all followed Stannis, but I wasn't born nobility. An' with how much I've been near her Grace…."
"Right, if you'd accompany us to question the others." Jon asked, though it was an order and they all knew it.
Davos gave a sharp nod. "Of course, don't know what help I'll be."
"You know them better than we do." Daisy replied surprisingly gently considering the….paste she'd left the men who'd tried to touch his sister. An action he greatly approved of, if there'd been any left he'd have killed them himself.
Davos gave a hesitant bob of his head. "If ya say so, your Holiness."
"I do." Daisy winced and glared at the sling Sansa had politely forced her to wear. "If I 'lost' this do you think Sansa would notice?"
Jon stared at her in disbelief.
Davos made a slightly choking sound. "I don't think that's a wise choice."
"Fine. So, Dondarrian next?" She glanced at Jon for confirmation.
He sighed. "Aye." As the senior knight and their self selected representative and leader Dondarrian was either aware of the plot or an idiot. Jon stepped to the gated door and waited for it to be swung open for them. As they walked out he saw the frowns on the men's faces at the sight of Davos shuffling behind them. But the men had clearly heard, which kept their mouths shut.
Jon appreciated the silence, while Davos's innocence was a relief, it didn't change the fury boiling through his veins. These men had tried to take his family from him. Again. He'd almost lost his sister when he was a few halls away going over siege weapons with some of the men that might be effective against the dead. The thought of Sansa laying in a pool of her own blood while he was right there made his throat close with bile. He glanced at Daisy out of the corner of his eye, reassured that her injuries meant Sansa was alive. Focusing ahead on the next door in the dungeon he clenched his jaw. Time to get this over with.
He strode into the next cell and glared coldly at the form of Ser Dondarrian who was slumped on a pile of straw. The trickle of dried blood from his cracked lip and visible bruising said the men who'd found and dragged him down hadn't been as kind to him as the men had been to Davos. Which was telling. "Were you involved?" His voice was sharp.
"I was not." The man looked up, his face defiant.
Jon looked to Daisy. "Is he lying?"
"I don't think so…" Daisy dropped into a crouch before the man. "You're not lying, but you're heart's too fast. Did you know?"
The man twitched. "No."
Daisy frowned, her eyes sharp. There was an awful cracking sound, two of his fingers snapping visibly. "Try that again. Did you know? Because I can do this all day, might try freezing some bits of you just to shake it up. Or would you rather be boiled alive from the inside out?"
Dondarrian held the gaze of the god for a horrible long minute before shaking his head. "I suspected. I knew they were afraid of you, and that they worried at a woman being named Queen when Stannis chose Jon."
Jon's fist clenched. "You swore your loyalty to my sister."
"I did." Dondarrian looked up furiously. "But I didn't swear to follow a woman who holds no right to the throne who has whored herself to a dark god for power!"
Jon snarled, grabbing the man's tunic and hauling him to his feet, pinning him to the wall. "You're a coward and a traitor. If you speak of my sister, your Queen like that again I'll cut your tongue from your mouth myself."
The man screamed as his hand turned an awful color, ice creeping through his flesh. He looked at his arm in horror, though the ice spread no further.
"That's enough m'Lord." Davos spoke carefully. "You need him alive for his execution." The man likely had shifted his attention to the god. "Holiness."
Jon scoffed in disgust but released the man to slide down to the floor. "You will lose your head tomorrow. I doubt any god will save you after you've broken every vow you've spoken." He turned on his heel and out of the cell.
Daisy stopped him in the hall before they got to the next cell. "Jon."
"What?" He winced at how hard his voice had come out. "I'm sorry. What is it?"
She raised a single brow at him. "They lost, being crude is all they have left. It's pathetic, don't let it get to you."
"You froze his hand?" He'd assumed they'd felt the same on the topic.
She gave a faint one sided shrug with her uninjured shoulder. "I never said I couldn't be petty." Her eyes flicked theatrically to the various guards in the hall. "And he claimed the North's accomplishments were because Sansa was fucking me. None of which is true, and all of which are irritatingly stupid beliefs."
He breathed out, fuck. Of course, it made sense. "The next cell is Ser Musgood."
"Huh...must not have thrown him very hard." Daisy blinked. "I almost forgot you'd said he survived."
Jon wondered at that actually. "Two of the five men who attacked you survived."
"Sorry, I know you don't enjoy executing people." Somehow she seemed to think his dislike of execution was the oddity of that.
He didn't point out the difference in the level of violence shown towards those who'd attacked Daisy and those who'd attacked his sister. Instead, he turned and continued into the next cell.
Ser Musgood did not look well. While the men who'd grabbed Dondarian from his quarters hadn't been kind, Daisy's followers and to some degree Daisy herself had not been pleased with the man. He looked awful. But as he looked up he slumped. "Ah, we failed then."
"You did." Jon stood there looking down at the man. "Why?"
The knight's head lulled as he looked up at him. "There's only one god, and you are his chosen."
He faintly shook at that. "Would you have killed my brother too then?"
"If it was needed." He said. And Jon didn't need to ask to know that was the truth.
Jon hated this man, hated him in a way he hadn't hated in some time. "Who knew?"
/
Wolkan took a fortifying sip of the sweet wine he'd been saving for a celebration of some sort someday. But he found he needed it this morning. His hand clutched at the cup. He hadn't been trained for this...and...well he had no one to speak to for aid. What maesters had survived in the North were busy with their own work and he doubted the Citadel would take kindly to questions doubting the Faith.
"Gods be good, you look awful man." Manderly dropped onto the bench beside him, his girth causing the bench to groan from the weight of it. "Has something else happened?!"
"No." Wolkan shook his head staring into his cup. "It's just...I didn't expect it."
Manderly nodded. "Aye, none of us did. We'll have to get her a proper queen's guard, won't we? Where are we going to find that many knights now the Stormlanders are out? 'Sides not like we can trust a man not of the North with our Queen."
"Brienne would make a good captain of a Queensguard." Wolkan pointed out. "From the Stormlands or not she's loyal."
The merman lord huffed. "That beast of a woman is Northern at heart." He frowned. "Do you think our Queen will accept a proper Queensguard?"
"She's smart enough to know she'll need one." Wolkan took another drink. "I...she commanded a god."
Manderly's face drew in. "I've never seen anything like our god bursting in like that. I...it's easy to forget she's a god of destruction."
"Her blood burned my hands, not badly, but I felt it nonetheless and her wounds had begun to heal around the arrows. Not a lot but...she plays at humanity quite well." Wolkan's hands were still red and irritated from the brief contact he'd had with the god's blood.
Manderly looked at him consideringly. "Make sure you tell any man you can that. Maybe it'll stop some fool from trying to attack our Queen again if they know what's waiting for them should they try."
"Is that even needed?" Wolkan stared at the sea lord.
Manderly gave a faint nod. "Our Queen can't be too safe. She's the North, we can't lose her."