Daisy was sitting on the top of one of the towering spires of Dragonstone. Her back was against one of the stone dragon gargoyle-like things that were everywhere. The wind was cold, cutting through the thick wool of the clothing she was wearing. She wasn't sure why she was upset exactly, she'd be over it and go back to worrying about the politics in a minute. Being a united front was too important for something as dumb as hurt feelings.
She noted the familiar vibrations approaching her. A part of her considered dropping off the tower to avoid the conversation. It'd be a bit of a plummet towards the rocky ocean far below, but she'd been meaning to figure out if she could walk on water. But, fuck. Best get it all over with. She looked over her shoulder. "Need me for something?"
"What? No. I wanted to apologize." Jon replied with all solemn sincerity, his regret basically painted across his face.
Daisy let out a long breath. "I get it, she's your sister. Kinda surprised you didn't try to stab me actually."
"It wasn't right." Jon's face drew together into a frown. A dogged determination to apologize for something that honestly was nothing. "I accused you of a crime." His face darkened with self loathing. "I laid my hands on you."
She sat up slightly. "Dude, you were half warged into a prehistoric wolf, and you didn't hurt me."
"I thought I was better than that." His gaze turned down, and fuck he was actually fully 'throw yourself on the ground and grovel,' type of guilty. There was an actual shake of shame in his voice.
Daisy swung around so she was facing him. "Are you…like…are you ok?"
His eyes rose, his shoulders squaring. "I have unforgivably insulted you. There is no excuse. I am at your mercy."
She opened and then shut her mouth. What on earth? "Jon, look, I get it. You're a good brother, I was half expecting you to do the whole shovel speech at some point."
"Shovel speech?" Jon asked, his face still furrowed with a heart wrenching amount of guilt. He half looked like he'd lay his damn head on a block if she asked it of him which was…what?
Daisy kinda wanted to like…slap him back to his senses a bit? Like…untrained powers making you lose it was just a thing. Especially when half your triggers were hit. That shit happened to people. You just got over it. "Ya know, hurt or betray my sister and I'll bury you and no one will find the body. Pretty standard threats there. Not that I've had someone do the whole speech before but like, pretty normal. Though you lot seem more about the whole going to war over that kind of thing."
"Ah…." He breathed out. "Doesn't make it right."
She didn't know how to handle this? "Look, after Ramsey it makes sense. And you're not wrong, I'm powerful enough that it gets…tricky. I get it. And I don't think you're supposed to react positively to accidentally walking in on your sibling having sex. Or I guess warging in as the case may be."
"Doesn't excuse it." He stubbornly insisted.
Daisy sighed, shit, how were you supposed to handle an apology like this? "You were protecting your sister. There's nothing to forgive, you're good."
"Why do you do that?" Jon frowned, looking at her with so much confusion. The damn man wore his feelings on his sleeve.
She paused. "Do what?"
"Act like you don't matter! You do it with the men, fine. Half the Umbers would be dead if you exacted your rights due to every insult. But I might not know a lot, but even I know the way you let Fitz speak to you is not right. I accused you of raping my sister. After everything." He waved his arm. "You should be angry or hurt. If you demanded my head it would be your right."
Daisy drew back. "It doesn't matter."
"It does. You are not a monster." His eyes were bright with belief in his words.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "What do you think happens if I take it personally? It doesn't matter. People say dumb shit when they're upset. They say things they don't mean. And what's the point of hanging onto hurt like that? You'll just drown in it. And if I get angry what good does that do? Do you want me to hurt you because you love your sister? If you were right, if I'd done what you thought I had, you'd have had every right to stab me for it. I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did as it is."
"That's…" Jon's jaw set. He looked at the ground taking a moment to mull over his thoughts before speaking. "I grew up shouldering insults for being a bastard. I only wanted to make my father proud, to sit with my family at the same table, and be allowed to be part of the family the same as everyone else. I was so angry that I couldn't have that. And you're right, my anger didn't do anything. I was so busy brooding that I missed time with my siblings. Time I can't have back."
Daisy softened, she knew almost exactly what that helpless frustration and anger as a kid felt like. "You didn't deserve that."
"No, I didn't." Jon met her eyes, his gaze unwavering. "It made me angry. Took good men years to teach me I had nothing to prove to anyone. That my honor, and pride wasn't the most important thing for me to want. I was so focused on my hurt I lost things. But you do the opposite, don't you?"
She shoved her hands under her arms. "Being angry is exhausting, and it does nothing. I've lost myself in anger, screamed myself hoarse with it. And people died. It just leaves you hollow. And I get angry plenty, I just don't see the point when it's something stupid."
"Anger is necessary sometimes, even if it's only in defense of yourself." Jon swallowed. "I don't deserve for you to just forgive this."
Daisy huffed. "I'm an Inhuman, being assumed to be a monster is just part of the deal."
"You haven't done a damn thing to be called a monster. I knew better than to think you capable of that." His gaze dropped in shame.
She felt deeply uncomfortable, like wiggling out of the conversation. "I don't want anything from you, Jon."
Jon swallowed but he nodded. "Then I won't say anything else about it. I won't betray you again."
"You didn't…" Daisy just accepted she was going to have to let him apologize or he was going to dig his heels in further. Stupid Northerners, they were stubborn as hell. "Fine. If you want to do something to apologize, work with Rickon when we get back to get in control of your warging. It's a gift, part of who you are and not being in control is clearly a problem."
He gave a sharp nod. "I'll do it."
And…it was funny, but Daisy didn't feel like staying up on the top of the tower anymore. "Come on, let's go make sure the men aren't panicking." She raised a brow. "You did get them to swear oaths of silence?"
"I did." He shifted, offering his side for walking inside. "My continued survival was not highly expected."
Daisy fell into step beside him. "Your gods in this world are assholes."
/
Arya had secured a new horse at the last inn. Now as she rode those last miles towards the ever growing shape of Winterfell she was suffused with a longing, a sorrow and a joy so strong it felt like her very soul was crying out at it. But as she passed familiar, yet strange, hills and people, she felt…cold.
The castle was prepared for a siege, the lands around the castle busier than she ever remembered them from her childhood. The Stark banner flying everywhere. Her heart felt like it'd been struck every time she saw the grey direwolf displayed. The faces she passed were strange but so plainly northern. This was her home, but it felt strange. She was a ghost returning, haunting a land that had moved on.
Arya's eyes were automatically drawn to the military strength on display. Her mind mapped out methods of disappearing into the crowds, and how to infiltrate her own home. But she was already invisible, no one cared. Just another northern girl.
As she reached the great gates into Winterfell there were four guards, all pausing to ask those coming into the fortress for their stated business. There were two men recording numbers. All very easy to lie to pass, and yet…she didn't want to. So she didn't lie as the guard closest to her looked up at her.
"What business brings you to Winterfell?" His cleanly scrubbed and neatly groomed face looked up at her expectantly.
Arya replied. "This is my home."
The man blinked. "Er…which servant quarters do you live in?" He was clearly waiting to be told she was the daughter of a cook, a stable hand, that sort of thing.
She looked up at the direwolf carved into the stone. Snow landed on her cheek. "I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and this is my home."
"Arya Stark is dead?" He blinked, looking at her in confusion.
One of the other guards stepped closer. "You sure you want to claim that girl?"
"It's the truth." She would not justify herself for her existence. Her identity was something too hard fought for, too deeply rooted in her bones. It simply was.
The first guard frowned. "If you're lying there'll be consequences."
"If I'm lying I won't last very long." She raised a brow.
He nodded. "Alright, come on." He caught the reins of the horse and led her into the first courtyard. Another guard followed and waved up at two men by a water bucket but rolled their eyes and moved to take their place.
Arya was impressed despite herself. "Dedicated protection."
The guard puffed up in pride. "It's an honor to serve House Stark!"
"Right." She realized she was going to be trapped here while one man went to fetch someone, who would fetch someone, and so forth till someone finally found someone who would be able to recognize her and it sounded…exhausting…and really boring. So she wasn't going to be doing that.
Arya stared at the statue of her father. The crypts were the most familiar thing so far. It felt peaceful here like she belonged. But then death was familiar. A constant companion. She wondered if it was because this was the tomb of her forebears or that it was a house of death?
There was the sound of footsteps, three sets; one heavy, one not quite as heavy, and a third that was light. She looked away from the carved shape of her father and saw the woman at the end of the hall. It was unmistakably Sansa. Not the Sansa of childhood, not the shrieking girl in southern finery being dragged back as their father's head was chopped off. The last traces of childhood had burned away leaving a woman grown.
Arya was struck by how different the woman staring at her was. She looked every inch the Northern Queen the rumors had painted her as, but the expression on her face, even in the flickering light of the crypts, made her heart twist painfully around itself. "Queen of the North?"
"Yes." Sansa came to a halt, her eyes tracking over Arya's form. There was a tension to her frame. "Not pretending to be a boy?"
Arya's eyes flicked to the giant woman knight lingering at the corner, another knight standing near her. "I can take care of myself now."
The corner of Sansa's lips twitched faintly, and the thing on Sansa's face could almost be hope. "You shouldn't have run from the guards, they are very distressed."
"I'd say you need better guards, but they did the best they could." Arya wasn't sure what it was she was feeling at the sight of her sister, the first relative she'd seen since she'd seen her father's head removed. Whatever it was kept her rooted to the spot. "You legitimized Jon?"
Sansa walked closer, her steps measured until she was but two strides away from her. "He's our brother, I was an idiot to ever doubt that. If he wasn't a stubborn fool he'd be here to greet you. He was so happy to see me, when he sees you his heart will probably stop."
"Where is he then?" Arya could hear the fondness and affection for their brother in her sister's voice. It was…unexpected and strange.
Sansa let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. "He insisted on making peace with the Dragon Queen. Shockingly, it seems he might manage it."
Arya felt something settling as she considered her sister. "They say you killed Joffrey. Did you?"
"I wish that I had." Sansa's voice was clear, she meant it. "He was a monster."
She looked away from her sister, back to the statue of their father. It looked a bit like him, or maybe she'd just forgotten the details of his face? "I was angry when I heard someone else had done it. No matter how long my list, he was always near the top."
"Your list?" Sansa was cautious, but then so was she.
Arya answered. "Of people I'm going to kill."
"I would normally assume that was hyperbole but at this point, I have a terrible feeling you're serious." Sansa swallowed. "Bran and Rickon are back as well."
Her breath hitched in the back of her throat. "They were killed by the Ironborn."
"Theon lied. Rickon is half wild, reminds me of you before everything." The expression on Sansa's face was so clearly a soft smile then. "He hasn't bitten anyone for a month."
Arya wondered at the affection there, but then time had changed them all. Her old hate for her spoiled, perfect sister had seemed so silly even if she'd never truly come to like the girl in her memories. "Bran?"
"He's…hollowed out, but pieces of him are there. If you look hard enough." Sansa wasn't softening the blow, but then better alive and broken than dead.
Arya wasn't sure what…she hadn't planned much beyond coming home. Knowing she had been alone too long. That her wolf was right, they belonged with their packs. "You betrayed father to the Lannisters."
"I did a lot of things." Sansa's gaze turned up to the statue of their father. "I was a stupid girl, I learned too slow."
Arya felt something...unclench. This older version of her sister was different. "You weren't completely terrible."
"I was. I'm sorry for how I treated you." Sansa hesitated for a second. "How did you get back to Winterfell? The last we knew was you'd been in the Vale, dressed as a boy, years ago."
Arya didn't respond to the apology, apologies were cheap. And besides, they'd been children. The slights of childish woe, no matter how deadly they'd become felt…pointless. They didn't matter, not really. "It's a long story." She looked at the Queen in front of her. "I imagine yours is as well."
"Yes. Not a very pleasant one." Sansa was looking at her again, looking at her like she never wanted to look away.
She thought…perhaps she could like who her sister had become. "Mine either." And she…Arya gave in then. She took the two remaining steps, half lunging she hugged her sister so quickly.
Sansa hugged her back instantly, desperately. Her arms were like a vice, and oh…the tension hadn't been distrust. It'd been this. Arya buried her face into her sister's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a phantom. Her sister was real, weighted, warm, and so very there. Arya felt something like nostalgia at the tickle of fur against her cheek and nose from the fur collar of the cloak her sister was wearing.
Something untwisted inside her. Arya pulled back, even though a part of her never wanted to let go. There was a thickness to her voice she didn't wish to question. Instead, she raised a brow. "I hear you fucked a god? The song's very catchy."
Sansa's cheeks flushed faintly at that. "Song?" Her voice was resigned, not a hint of the horrified embarrassment Arya had expected.
"Hmm. The Letch, The Leech, and The Lady." Arya was fascinated.
Sansa sighed, her attention turning down the crypt's hall. "Conin, Prince Bran is still in the gods' wood, yes?"
"Aye, your Grace." The male guard, a possible knight, replied, stepping closer and further into the light.
Sansa gave the faintest flicker of acknowledgment. "Good, go and fetch Prince Rickon there as well, inform the staff of my sister's return and ensure her rooms are prepared. And Conin, I expect the lyrics to that song in my quarters when I return to them."
The man, Conin, turned a shade of red that was truly impressive. Oh, he definitely knew the song. "Aye, your Grace." He bowed before scurrying away.
"Come, we have a living family who will be as glad to see you as I am." Sansa stepped, offering her side to Arya.
Arya allowed herself to be guided out of the crypts. Though as they walked the silent halls she spoke. "But really, you're fucking a girl?"
"Her name is Daisy, and it's a bit complicated but yes." Sansa had not a flicker of shame.
"Huh." Arya fell silent. Things had changed, and it was strange, leaving her confused and unsure in her own home. But…it wasn't bad.
Arya took it back, it was terrible as she was nearly knocked to the ground by her baby brother who was taller than her. The lot of them were giants apparently. She wheezed slightly from the force of Rickon's hug, her feet coming off the ground.
His voice was a babble. "You're home! I knew you had to be alive! I knew it!" There were tears in his voice.
She awkwardly hugged back. She didn't know him. He looked like a scruffy version of Robb from her memories. But the Rickon she'd known had still had a faint lisp, only just gotten big enough their mother didn't carry him everywhere. He'd been a baby. She didn't know this boy who was hugging her and crying as he did so. But she knew to her bones that she'd gut any man who threatened him. And maybe that was enough.