Sansa strode through the entryway and into the room beyond, her guards neatly opening the door for her. Her eyes easily found Mira Forrester.
The woman rose to her feet before dropping to a curtsy. "Your Grace."
Sansa eyed the woman, in her heart she was sorry for what the future would likely hold. Ever it was the women left to suffer the consequences of men. "Rise."
"Is there something I can do for you, your Grace?" Mira's voice was perfectly practiced, her court mask seamlessly sliding down. She'd certainly realized this would not be a pleasant conversation.
"I received a raven from the wall." Sansa watched her face, she doubted she'd see the answers she wanted. The woman had spent too long in the southern court for that. "Lord Whitehill has abandoned his post together with his men. They were last seen marching towards the Ironrath."
Mira's hands tightened. "Will you send aid?"
"I've sent a company of twenty men to secure your younger sibling and good sister. Their remaining journey to Winterfell will be sure. Any men I send to Ironrath have no chance of arriving before the Whitehill force. Your brother has a sizable force with him, larger than Lord Whitehill could hope to have."
Mira paled. "Oh gods, they can only have just begun their journey here."
"We can only hope they have been making haste and the men I'm sending do as well." Sansa softened slightly. She knew the terror of fearing for the lives of one's family.
Mira gave a sharp nod, her face settling. "Their party left six days ago, they could have covered a good distance."
"Indeed." Sansa hated that she had to ask what she needed to. "Odd, that Lord Whitehill would risk so much when your brother has a portion of my army with him. A portion large enough that your brother stands no chance of losing. In fact, my advisors inform me that should a battle occur it will be brief." The implied weight of that considering the blood feud between the Whitehills and the Forresters was not pretty.
And Mira understood what that implied. That her brother was suspected of continuing the blood feud. Mira flinched at her words, horror flashing across her face before being folded neatly behind her court mask. "Your Grace…"
"I see you do not know if your brother intended to draw your House's enemy to a battle." Sansa wished it was not what it looked like. She had almost no doubts that it was. "Did your brother say anything? Did he give any indication that he might have intended to do this?"
"No, of course not, your Grace." Mira bowed her head. "Surely this is a mistake, or Lord Whitehill acting violently once more."
Sansa looked at the other woman, and she felt pity. "I hope you're right." She paused knowing she would be cruel to leave it at that. "If he has, while he'll certainly lose his position on my council and there will be consequences, I however won't add to the grief your family has faced."
Sansa bit back a smile at the sight of poor Hogg trotting towards her. Poor man was bright red in the face, and stiff as a board. He gave the best bow he likely knew how to give. She took pity on him. "Thank you for coming so promptly."
"Anythin' to help you, your Grace." His words were so carefully formed to lessen his rough accent.
She gave a fond smile to the man. If there was one group whose loyalty she didn't doubt, it was the Order. Well, she still kept a weather eye on them. But she doubted she'd see signs of treason there. "Hogg, I need two of you men to complete a certain task for me. It would need to be discrete."
"Oh, aye, we can do that." His shoulders set, determination crossing his face. "What sort uh task is it?"
Sansa would have to give the man a title if he ever left the Order. "There is going to be a fight between the Forresters and Whitehills. I need to know exactly how this stupidity has come to be. All of it, including that which Lord Forrester might not wish me to hear. Do you understand?"
"Aye, I can do that." His face frowned in thought. "Maybe...two of ours and one of yours with a third of ours dressed as one of yours?"
She raised a brow, he was cleverer than she'd realized. "That can certainly be done. Is there anything else you require?"
/
Tyrion felt ill as he looked down at the sea below. He was uncomfortably close to being fed to a dragon. He may be in awe of the beasts, but he didn't want to be digested by one. Two miserable failures on the same day however could drop one's favor quite steeply.
He paused as he spotted Jon Snow, or Stark now, standing along the rock way, looking out over the ocean, the northern god sitting on the stoneworks beside him, the two of them clearly watching the dragons flying far out over the ocean. Jon's face was stupidly handsome while drawn in deep thought. But what struck Tyrion as the sharpest change from boy to man was the way Jon Stark stood settled in his own skin.
Tyrion approached with a confidence he didn't particularly feel. "I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack. You're making it difficult. You look a lot better brooding than I do. You make me feel like I'm failing at brooding over failing. And you're not even brooding alone."
"I came in good faith to treat with a foreign Queen and instead am treated as a mad man." Jon's face was full of accusation.
Tyrion winced under the dark look, he also noted the 'god' was pointedly not paying the slightest attention to them. Her gaze focused upon the dragons overhead. He turned to Jon. "When a Queen summons you, it's assumed that you will swear fealty."
"That's not what you said in your letter." Jon's eyes narrowed. "You implied it was safe to Sansa."
He sighed. "And I see that she is not here."
"No, she didn't trust you. Or your Queen." Jon turned so that he was facing him completely.
Tyrion considered the man. "What I don't understand is why you're here. You can't think my Queen will abandon her conquest of the seven kingdoms, march her army and dragons all the way to the North to fight dead men?"
"If she doesn't we may all die." Jon's jaw tightened. "We'll fight them, but if we fall it will be your Queen who faces them next. Their ranks would only be swollen by our corpses." There was utter sincerity in his entire being. Jon breathed out. "It's hard for me to fathom. It really is. If someone told me about the White Walkers and the Night King…you don't believe me."
Tyrion had seen dragons, and he'd seen whatever that magic in the throne room had been. But the dead? "I do actually."
"You didn't before. Grumpkins and snarks you called them. Do you remember? You said it was all nonsense." Jon's face was blatantly filled with disbelief.
Tyrion sighed. "It was all nonsense. Everybody knew it. But then Mormont saw them and you saw them, and I trust the eyes of an honest man more than I trust what everybody knows."
"You're a good liar." The god's head turned. "I could barely tell."
Tyrion blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"You're lying. You don't believe the Dead are coming." Her head cocked to the side. "Or no, it's not that you don't believe, it's that you're not sure. It scares you, but humoring Jon is the easiest option."
Jon clearly believed the 'god' completely. "I wasn't wrong then."
"Don't take it personally." The 'god' patted Jon's shoulder. "He's humoring you. That's half the battle."
Jon looked at him then. "How do I convince people who don't know me that an enemy they don't believe in is coming to kill them all if even you don't?"
"Good question." Tyrion forced his unease at his lies being called out so easily, that had just made political discussion utterly useless. Or..perhaps not? The 'god' hadn't appeared upset, rather just preventing Jon from listening too well.
Jon's voice had a bite to it. "I know it's a good question. I'm looking for an answer."
"People's minds aren't made for problems that large." Tyrion carefully set aside his doubts. Because he hadn't lied, trusted men were better to listen to than common knowledge. And even if Jon was lying the man believed in his own words. "White Walkers, the Night King, Army of the Dead, it's almost a relief to confront a familiar monster like my sister."
"Dragonglass then." Jon's eyes flicked to the god and then back to Tyrion. "Fill my ship with dragonglass, and allow the rest of our party off and I'll forget any insult from yesterday."
Tyrion paused at that. "Do I want to know why you want such a thing?"
Tyrion felt a bead of sweat trickling down the back of his neck. If fate was a thing it deserved a kick in the ass for so many ill events to strike at once. Thus leaving him here, standing before a Queen who was not pleased with him.
"Dragonglass?" Daenerys stared at him, she was unamused.
"Yes, volcanic glass, obsidian. He says you have a tremendous amount of it here." Tyrion was really quite hopeful this would work. Smoothing things over with the Northerners was a good first step.
Daenerys' pointed out the windows. "Why are we talking about glass? We just lost two of our allies."
"Which is why I was speaking to Jon Stark, a potential ally," Tyrion explained, gods he needed a drink.
Daenerys was listening to him, however unhappily. "And what does the North want with dragonglass?"
"Apparently it can be turned into weapons that kill White Walkers and their foot soldiers, or stop them, destroy them? I'm unsure of the nomenclature." And he was trying to ignore what the actions of the North were indicating.
Daenerys walked towards him, her disbelief painted across her words. "And what do you think of this Army of the Dead, White Walkers and Night King's?"
"I'd very much like to believe that Jon Stark is wrong. But a wise man once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it." And damn it to the seven hells he was starting to believe the Dead were real.
She clasped her hands in front of her, looking down on him. "Which wise man said this?"
He paused… "I don't remember."
"Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?" There was a frustrated condescension there.
"I would never do that…to you." Tyrion defended himself. "The reason I believe Jon Stark is because he's here. All of his advisors would have told him not to come. His sister and Queen told him not to come. I would have told him not to come, yet he's here anyway. You don't have to believe him. Let him mine the dragonglass. If he's wrong it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here. It's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand: Casterly Rock." Tyrion paused. "Besides, it will go a long way to smooth over any unpleasantness from yesterday."
"And their god?" Daenerys turned away from the fire she'd moved to.
Tyrion considered that. "Every man from the North believes she is what she claims to be. And she holds a great deal of sway with Jon. However, it's rather difficult to learn more when so few men are here. If you allow the rest of their party to disembark, it might lead to looser lips."
/
Jon was ignoring the presence of Seth, the royal guard shadowing him everywhere. He was also unsure where Daisy had gotten to and was pretending that didn't fill him with dread. But he had come here for a reason, and he intended to see to that reason. Even if no one thought he could do it.
As he walked out from the protection of the grim fortress he was faced with the expanse of sea, the sharp sea wind cutting in its cold. Everything here was sharp, sheer, and dark. The fortress stood upon sharp, sheer cliffs that plummeted down to the rocky ocean coast below. He walked down the narrow stone walkway, towards the distinctive white hair of the Dragon Queen. He paused. "Stay here."
"Your Highness! I'm supposed to protect you!" Seth protested.
He stared at the man. He sighed, awkwardly reaching up and setting his hand on the man's shoulder. "The Queen is not going to cast me over the side of the cliff. And if a dragon tries to eat me there is nothing you or I can do to stop it."
"I…" Seth settled back. "As you command, your Highness."
Jon shook his head faintly as he turned and left his guard behind. He wished he knew how to begin a conversation with a woman who'd looked rather like she'd wanted to feed him to her dragons. As he finally reached her he hadn't gotten a better idea, and two of her dragons were flying out over the ocean. "Amazing thing to see."
She didn't turn to look at him, but her head did move faintly. "I named them after my brothers, Vicerion and Rhaegal. They're both gone now." She turned to look at him then, one hand remaining on the low stone wall. "You lost two brothers as well?"
Jon's throat closed at the mention of Robb and Bran. It was a fool's hope that Bran yet lived, but one he wasn't quite prepared to lose yet. Not yet. He didn't disagree, however. The grief still sat with him.
"People thought dragons were gone forever but here they are. Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know." She looked at him properly then.
He lowered his head, and stepped even with her, though he faced the sea, looking out at its beauty. "You've been talking to Tyrion?"
"He is my Hand." There was a dry bite there that amused Jon.
He couldn't help the slight smile. "He enjoys talking."
"We all enjoy what we're good at."
Jon's smile faded. He knew what he was good at. "I don't."
Daenerys was looking at him again. It was the same sharp look that Sansa got when she was trying to figure out some puzzle. "You know I'm not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron Throne."
"I never expected that you would." He shifted so that they were facing each other, raising his chin to meet her challenge.
Daenerys' tone was clear and sharp, but not hostile. "And I haven't changed my mind about which kingdoms belong to the throne."
"I haven't either." Jon had been trusted to come here, he wasn't failing in his task. Nor bending to a strange Queen he didn't know. No matter how lovely or how impressive her titles were.
She looked away, frustration there to be seen if you knew how to look. Finally, she returned her gaze to him. "I will allow you to mine the dragonglass and forge weapons from it. You had better get your men off their ship and put them to work."
"Thank you." He meant it from the bottom of his heart.
Daenerys returned her attention to the ocean, her children flying over it.
He dared another question. "So you believe me then about the Night King and the Army of the Dead?"
"You better get to work, Jon Stark." There was a challenge in her voice. And it was a dismissal, but it was not a cold one.
He nodded and turned to make his way back into the castle. She wasn't wrong, he had work to do. And some very upset lords to settle.
/
Daisy knocked on the wooden door to Jon's room before simply walking in. She paused in the entryway watching the excitement thrumming through Jon as he organized notes, mud smeared across one cheek. He looked hopeful, a spark back in his eye. "So we get some dragonglass then?"
"One shipful for now but we can negotiate for more! She's giving us a chance!" He turned and he was a man with purpose and hope. It was a good look on him. Which, damn all the Starks were apparently hot, fucking genetics.
She smiled. "Good, in which case I'm going to fly up North for the afternoon and night. Let Sansa know you're alive and were right. Which, if you value your life, mentioning that to her face is a bad idea."
His smile was practically boyish, his eyes crinkling in delight. "Aye, that's probably right. She was always vicious as a girl. Her and Arya's fights were terrifying."
"A trait that hasn't gone away." She grinned, it might be sappy but sue her. "Side point, I believe Lord Tyrion thinks we're fucking. So there's that. Also, this Queen either has a traitor in her ranks, her advisors are so poor it might as well be treason, or there's some other objective here. With the language barrier…" She hummed thoughtfully. "Give me a couple of months, maybe a bit more and you can exchange that name for something with her if it is actual treason."
Jon's brow furrowed. "Who'd betray her? She seems the sort of Queen you hear about in legends. Her people chose her. I might not know much, but I know they half worship her."
She raised an eyebrow at that. Huh. "True, but that isn't enough for everyone. Or are you planning on switching Queens?"
He glared, it was weak though. Man was in too good a mood to be properly irritated. "I take your point."
"Also, some people are just traitorous dicks. It's life." She shrugged. "Don't mention I'm smoking out a rat if there is one, however. Unwarned is careless."
Jon gave her a firm nod. "Of course." His frown faded. "It's good to see Tyrion again."
"I'll take your word for it." She hadn't seen much of the other Hand and was…mostly unimpressed. But then she'd always been biased against alcoholics. Thinking of which, Fitz had another month of wallowing before she was going to dry him out, willing or not. No one needed his moonshine crutch turning into a long-term problem.
Jon chuckled. "He takes some getting used to."
"I'll make time to actually speak to him. If both you and Sansa agree he's worth it, he must be." She rocked back on her heels. "So, no getting yourself killed between now and dawn. Make my excuses."
Jon paused. "Er…what should I say you're doing if they ask?"
"Talking to the old gods." She shrugged. I'll swing by a gods' wood before I get back, you won't even be lying."
He sighed. "I'm not that terrible of a liar."
"You kinda are." She laughed at the near pout on his face. "Do you have a letter for your sister ready?"
He grabbed a folded note and stepped into her space and hugged her tightly. His arms wrapped around her half trapping her own at her sides. "Thank you, for giving this a chance."
Daisy closed her eyes, hugging him back as best she could. "I've got your back."
His arms tightened.
Daisy landed with a barely audible thud on the roof of the god's tower. She closed her eyes, letting herself focus on the familiar vibrations of Winterfell. It felt…it felt wonderfully familiar.