Alys Karstark was stitching at what would be a part of her bridal chest, not that she would be able to fill it properly. She was unsure of exactly what contributions to a dowry House Stark was making, if any, and was going to ensure that she and her cousins had as best they could manage. It wasn't hard work, though endless sheets and linen could get rather boring. The occasional bit of stitching of something for the royal family was frankly a relief.
"Can't we do something else?" Lyarra whined from where she was stitching at yet another set of bedsheets for their family.
She reached out gently brushing her cousin's cheek. "In a short while, sweet thing. But your sister is to be married next week and we must finish her chest before then."
"I've taught you better than to complain about your duty." Aunt Celia chided her youngest daughter. Though there was a kindness there. "If you finish that sheet you may take a break to take a turn of the yard."
Lyarra glared at her stitching. "I don't want to watch Rickon training."
"His highness is busy with his lessons, and you would do well to show some interest." Aunt Celia was less kind in this critique.
Lyarra's fingers turned white where she was holding her needle, it was a miracle the metal did not bend. "He can't even read well."
"He has time to learn." Aunt Celia replied sharply.
Alys cleared her throat. She wished her two other cousins were there, but they were both respectively walking the grounds with their new betrothed and wouldn't be back to assist till later….which left her to prevent her aunt from overly insulting the youngest of Alys's cousins. "What would you like to do then?"
"Can I go to the stables?!" She nearly bounced with excitement at the thought of horses.
Alys smiled at the pure joy there, an emotion none of them had shown much of since the fall of their house and loss of their home. "I think we can do that." She shot a warning look at her aunt, there was no need to force the children together now. They had a few years before a lack of interaction would be cause to worry.
Aunt Celia gave a faint nod of acquiescence. "We could go to the stables. But you're finishing that sheet first."
Lyarra stared down at the sheet with determination and then got back to work, wielding her needle like a weapon.
Smiling to herself, Alys went back to the neat little moose she was embroidering upon the pillowcase she was working on. After all, her other cousin would soon be Lady Hornwood. It was moose on everything. And orange, so much orange. But it was vaguely comforting to know she and her two cousins of age with her would soon be safe and secure, no longer depending on the good graces of their Queen.
Alys was just finishing up a running moose when there was a knock on the door. Looking up, her brow furrowed slightly, they hadn't been expecting anyone. "Enter!" She called, curious about who it could be. She almost swallowed her tongue at the sight of the god. "Your Holiness!" She half dropped her sewing to the side as her aunt and cousin all rushed to their feet, before dipping into curtsies.
"Hi." Daisy had a simple ease to her of a being that knew she was perfectly allowed to be there. A comfort in her own skin that was fascinating and intimidating. "Is now a good time to talk? Thought I should check in on you guys, but if now's a bad time that's fine."
Alys straightened, waving to an open chair. "Please join us, it's an honor to speak with you if you so wish."
"Thanks, with everyone getting ready for the Vale Knights to arrive I figured now was as good a time as any." She strode further into the room, her face softening as she spotted Lyarra.
It was…a relief to see the simple compassion there. And Alys realized what this was about almost instantly. "If you fear the marriages that have been arranged are against our wills that is not the case. Though it is an honor you would care."
"Well, that's good to know? I just…if you want it to change I could talk with Sansa. Marriage is…it should be a person's choice." The god took the offered seat, she so clearly meant it. That if they were unhappy she would intervene for them. A kindness and investment that was confounding its very existence.
Aunt Celia looked frankly near speechless by the offer, she was just short of gaping. "That is…"
"A kind offer." Alys had not forgotten the alarm the god had shown at the thought of forced arranged marriage back in the Karhold. But the god was so clearly aligned with the Starks. She'd done nothing to ingratiate herself or her family with this god. Which left it…dangerous that they were being shown this kindness. "But truly, her Grace chose well and kindly for us."
Daisy blinked, and it was like the tension that Alys hadn't even noticed leaked out of her shoulders. It dawned on Alys that of course, the god could feel the truth in her words. She knew she'd spoken the truth, and she genuinely was relieved by the answer. "Oh good, I just…arranged marriage wasn't really a thing to worry about for me so it's just odd now."
"How's that?" Lyarra asked, blinking at the god in confusion. Completely missing to add the proper title of 'holiness' to the end of the question.
Daisy didn't show the slightest flicker of insult. Instead, she smiled. "Well if my parents had raised me I likely would have been important enough for it to be something to be brought up? Maybe? But I was stolen from my family and hidden in a human orphanage to protect me. But human street kids aren't important enough for that sort of thing. Then well, by the time I found out who and what I was it was just complicated, and within three years I was The Destroyer of Worlds and well, so far Deke is the only one to really try and court me post all that and frankly I've been ignoring it and hoping he takes a hint. I'm really not hopeful about that." Her lips twitched upwards as she spoke, easy humor there.
Lyarra's nose scrunched up. "Why not just turn Deke down? You're you. No one could be mad at you for it."
"You'd be surprised." Daisy laughed. "But he's Fitz and Jemma's grandson, and while he's…he's Deke, he was willing to die to save humanity. So fingers crossed that he gets over it like Fitz did back when we first met."
Alys couldn't help the surprise. "Fitz attempted to court you?"
"Eh, for a few months. It was mostly awkward and then he got over it." She laughed lightly with fondness. "Actually kinda hilarious."
Alys wondered at that, though it formed a picture. She knew exactly how terrible conditions were for orphans. "If I may, how did you come to find you were more than human?"
"Oh, I died, kinda? I was shot twice in the stomach and half bled to death before my team found me. I was an agent of SHIELD already then." She easily ignored the shock on the Karstark's faces as she continued. "I was dying, they couldn't keep me alive much longer. I think Jemma had to restart my heart eighteen times in like a day. So our commanding officer made a choice. They injected me with the blood of a dead god. When I didn't go insane or die bleeding out of my eyes we figured there was something with me that wasn't human. Took like a year to figure out what, but yeah."
Lyarra gaped. "God's blood heals?"
"Some, depends on the type of god." Daisy reached out and flicked Lyarra's forehead. "Mine for instance would burn a person alive from the inside out like wildfire." She frowned. "Or bind you to my will, removing all personhood from you and leaving you essentially a mindless monster with no thoughts or desire or will…I'm not actually sure which….maybe both? It'd be very bad either way. Considering Wolkan says my blood burned him when he was pulling arrows out of me I'm going to go with the burned alive from the inside out as the most likely."
Lyarra's eyes widened. "Wicked."
"I know right? But if you ever find a god that's dead or weak, sticking their blood in you is a very bad idea. Even those with blood that heals drive humans insane. We had to stop one guy who'd had the same blood put into him as was put into me and he was carving a map to the god's city into other people uncontrollably. It was a compulsion. Everyone who had that blood put in them went insane. Badly, to the point they were a threat to themselves and others."
Alys's fingers dug into her skirts. That was…it was horrifying. She could see how the horror was being coached and framed in such a way that it was a warning to a child and not a threat but it was terrifying all the same.
Alys was quiet as she sewed, her aunt and cousin off to see the horses, leaving her with the god and a servant who was quietly packing the marriage trunk and inoffensively chaperoning. She looked at the god. "Do you sew?" It seemed a far safer question than the many, many questions Lyarra had bombarded the being with that had all had horrifying answers.
"Uh..not really? Not like all of you can, which is very impressive by the way. I can just like..fix a rip or patch shit up? Pretty good at stitching up injuries? But that's about it." Daisy shrugged as she lifted the cup of water Aunt Celia had poured some time ago. "So you're marrying Cerwyn?"
She hummed. "Aye, he's a good match. Young, holds position here in the Northern capital and I've heard nothing concerning of him, and he's been nothing but polite and kind when we've spoken. It'll be a secure life."
"That's enough for you?" The god wasn't unkind in her question, she'd been nothing but kind in her visit. It was becoming clear she might just care about humans enough, in general, to explain her taking time from her day to check in with them….people who had to mean little more than nothing to her.
Alys wondered how to explain it. "You never know who it is you are marrying until it's done. You can hope, you can try, but a man behind doors is not always clear. Am I wrong?"
"No, you're not." Daisy sighed, something darkly amused there in the curl of her lips. "If you or your family end up with a monster tell me. I'll handle it."
Her throat went dry at that. The implication was…not subtle. "Why?"
"Because I am in part why you are in this situation." Daisy frowned slightly. "And helping people is kind of my thing. It's what SHIELD is about, protecting people."
Alys wondered at this god. "Do you know what my fate was to be before you and Prince Jon came?"
"I can't say I do." Daisy's head tilted slightly.
She continued her stitching carefully, her voice unwavering through the concern. "My uncle and aunt meant to marry me to my cousin, Cregan. His last two wives died. One in childbed, the other fell down the stairs. Apparently." Alys looked up, her gaze catching the sharp and instant understanding in the gods face. "It would have made my uncle's line the ruling line of House Karstark, I planned to run if it became unpreventable. I would rather die than risk being married to that man. But he's dead, and I have a possible future with a man whose worst attribute is he's visited a whore house a half dozen times. A thing he apologized for in a very long ramble about knowing it must be horribly disappointing. Your influence I believe."
"Then I'll drop it, I'm sorry for pushing." Daisy softened into the chair she was seated in.
Alys finished off her running backstitch. "I believe I understand why her Grace values your advice." Because this being had spent a morning ensuring minor nothings of people were cared for and safe for no other reason than the peace of her own mind. It was a rare quality, and one no doubt their Queen was well aware of. The cautious dance around the courtship there made far more sense if this was what this god was under all the power she so casually wielded. Because Alys found she doubted very highly that that power would ever be turned on a person for the turning down of a suit. Still terrifying to contemplate playing such a game with the god, but it made more sense to her now.
/
Jon stood at his sister's shoulder as they stood in the courtyard, watching the arrival of the Knights of the Vale and Lord Petyr Baelish. Every fiber of his being demanded he order the gates shut. These cowards had ignored Robb and the entire War of Five Kings. All safe in their rocky homes. And Baelish…he knew there were things Sansa hadn't told him, but he knew enough. The man was slime of the worst kind. And if the gods were just he'd bury his sword in the man's belly before he could be given bread and salt. But it was not to be. His sister had a plan, and they needed the manpower. It was galling.
"Peace brother." Sansa gently took his hand, tightening her grip ever so slightly in comfort.
He glowered but forced himself to breathe out. His eyes sought out Daisy who was lounging against the ramparts up above. She'd drop on the Vale knights like the avenging god she was at the slightest sign of duplicity. And who'd blame a god for violating guest rite? It was good to know he had an ally in defending Sansa.
He'd ensured Winterfell was putting its best foot forward. The walls were manned, there might not be a 'grand' Northern army, but they had a giant. A giant in a gambeson, chainmail, a helmet, and a very nice log that had metal spikes on one end. The Freefolk were at least in basic leather armor and chainmail, and their weapons were at least good quality metal now. The royal standard of House Stark now flew. It was Sansa's personal sigil now, the Stark wolf with a crown upon its neck, the black stitching a deep red. The Red Wolf, crowned. The outward ditches were finished and were an impressive show of defense.
It was…Winterfell hadn't been this prepared for war since well before their father's time. The amount of manpower and effort it had taken was staggering, and a lot of quiet assistance from a god, but Winterfell was a bastion of Northern power again. They may have been broken, but they could stand with pride as these Valemen rode along the newly repaired road into their home. They needed their new…allies, but those allies would not scoff at them.
"Why's their armor uncovered?" Rickon hissed as they watched the knights getting closer. "Won't it freeze to their skin?"
Jon's lips twitched, a phenomenon all the Northern men who could hear experienced. "Our new allies are from the south. They may not know they have to cover their armor."
"But…its winter?" Rickon's genuine confusion was hilariously apt.
Lord Glover barked out a laugh. "Can't expect southern shites to know what's good for them. If they plan on sticking around we'll have to show them what's what."
Rickon's nose scrunched up slightly. But at a sharp look from their sister, he fell silent.
Straightening his spine, he focused away from his brother and instead to the first mounted knights just coming through the gates. Immaculate armor, clean banners, fresh horses, an army that hadn't fought. All noble knights, and riding at their head a man who was unmistakably Little Finger. The man was all in black, clearly wasn't a knight, and had the swarmiest expression Jon had ever wanted to punch.
/
Sir Yohn Royce, Lord of House Royce of Runestone couldn't take his eyes off of the girl he should have never let out from under his gaze when he'd first seen her. Or rather known who exactly she was. Sansa Stark, a young woman, a girl who'd been in the Vale after nearly being murdered by her mad aunt. And now here she was again, older, though not by much, but much changed all the same. He'd been desperate to cut his teeth into the chaos all around them. But again and again, the answer had been to remain in the Vale.
Only now here he was, here the Vale was, in the North, finally! And he was looking upon Ned's girl, grown up into a Queen. Words swirling of ancient darkness, gods, the dead, the end of the world. And in all of it, she was still, it was like returning to her home had given her ice for blood. There was no fear, no doubt, or hesitation. Just an iron willed and intelligent Queen, there to do her duty. Oh Ned…his little girl…so spectacularly resplendent she wore a crown upon her head while she had two living brothers beside her.
"Will you stand with us against the Dead?" Sansa Stark asked as she looked at them steadily. "Or do you require more evidence?"
Royce spoke before Baelish could pontificate, too pleased with himself by half, or one of the other Lords could say something stupid. "My son died up on that Wall, if the Wildlings, the whole North stands behind you to fight something then I say it's real."
"I have some concerns." Ser Lyn Corbray spoke. "You tell us tidings of great darkness. But even journeying here we've heard rumors of magics and gods here already."
Sansa tapped her fingers against the arm of her simple wooden throne. "You speak of our resident god Daisy." Her gaze flicked to the light coming through the window. "She's real, you can ask any man, woman or child here." Her attention returned and it was cold now. "I would not test her. The last men to try had to be removed from the Great Hall with a mop."
"Your Grace, do you mean to reman the entire Wall?" Royce would find his answers about the rumors they'd heard up and down the roads. Seeing the man who could be a younger Ned stepped through time standing by his sister's shoulder, assured him the answers could wait.
She gave him the slightest tip of her head. "We do not mean to, even with the entirety of the forces of the Vale remanning the entire Wall would be beyond us. The repairs to the castles alone would require…a great deal more time and resources than we have."
Her Hand, who was also her brother spoke then. "We have sent some small number of men to every castle along the Wall. When the Dead attack we'll be forewarned of where and able to send our men to the point of attack directly. From there if the Wall falls we lead them through land already prepared and thin their numbers faster than they thin ours."
"And how do you mean to kill the dead?" Baelish spoke, from where he was standing. "Surely if your god, or steel alone was enough it would be less…grim."
Jon Stark was serious as he replied. "Fire, valyrian steel, and dragon glass can kill the dead. Samwell Tarly of the Watch has gone to the Citadel to find answers for us. Until then fire." His jaw twitched.
Baelish for once in his miserable life was useful, or perhaps once again. Always useful when the time was right. "Well, then the armies of the Vale are yours until we have the means to fight the enemy, however, we may need to turn our attention south. Cersei will not wait for the Dead to come or not come."
"Cersei may hold power but she is not Queen." Manderly folded his hands over his stomach. "Kevin Lannister may be a sack of shit, but he's not fool enough to invade the North in winter. And the Tyrells won't put up with it while we have their pretty lordling." He tipped his head to where Loras straightened at the sudden attention.
Royce realized at that moment that the news hadn't reached this far North yet. He went to speak but Baelish beat him to it.
"You haven't heard yet?" Baelish's facial hair twitched. "And Loras Tyrell, we all were wondering where you'd ended up. Rumor had it you'd been killed by the Faith in the Great Sept, but I see your sweet sister was clever enough to save you from that fate."
Loras's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't rise to the bait.
Baelish turned to Sansa. "Forgive me your Grace, but King Tommen and Queen Margaery are dead."
"No." Loras shifted a half step forward before a man with a red leaf brooch with a wolf upon it caught his shoulder, holding him back. "That's not possible."
Baelish had a certain…demeanor as he spoke. "Sadly it is. The Great Sept of Balor was destroyed by wildfire before the trial of the former Queen Regent. Over half the Lords and Ladies of King's Landing died. Including your beloved sister and honorable father."
"Cersei would never kill one of her children." Sansa's faint paling, and a slight widening of her eyes were the only sign she was surprised by the news. But the critical light never dimmed from her.
"Young Tommen was so taken with grief, at the loss of his faith as well as his Queen I'm afraid he threw himself to his death." Baelish opened his hands. "I'm afraid Cersei Lannister sits on the Iron Throne as Queen."
Royce spoke then. "Lord Baelish speaks the truth your Grace, the south lies in chaos. If you mean for the North to remain independent, now is the time to stop the Mad Queen. She burned hundreds of people alive with wildfire when she blew up the sept. It's madness."
Loras made a sharp sound. "You're lying!"
"Your Grace?" The man holding Loras's shoulder looked to the Queen before them.
Sansa gave a sharp nod. "Take him to his quarters."
"No, they're not dead! I'd know if they were dead!"
A second man with the broach grabbed Loras's other side. The two men dragged the Tyrell knight out, but there was an economical kindness to their movements. No irritation, it was simply done, firmly and quietly.
Sansa turned to them once more. "It would seem much news of the south has not reached us here. What other tidings do you bring?"