Petyr Baelish watched as Arya Stark sparred across the yard with Brienne of Tarth. Fascinating really, they were both fabulously skilled if not aesthetically pleasing. He noted young Rickon, where the boy was eagerly watching with stars in his eyes. There were too many living Starks. Separating the pack would be hard, and the results hard to predict.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sansa's expression, it wasn't alarmed or concerned, but rather calculating. He may have trained the girl too much. She trusted few, and while necessary the ploy with Ramsey had cost him. Of course who could have guessed a god would drop into the girl's lap?
No, separating the Starks too obviously was beyond him. But he could add enough distrust Sansa might do it for him. "Most impressive."
"She is." Sansa's face was thoughtful, no doubt considering how best to use her disgrace of a sister. In the North, there actually would be options, certainly while they were at war.
His eyes tracked back to Rickon. He was the weak link. If he felt like a threat to Sansa, she might move against him. At the least shuttering him away somewhere for 'his own safety'. But the other Starks might pick up on their sister not being loyal.
He resisted a shudder as the bright red eyes of the giant white direwolf found him as the beast settled against Sansa's side. Her fingers automatically buried themselves into the monster's fur. But then she'd proved herself quite adept at surviving monsters. "It must be reassuring to have so ready a symbol of your brother's loyalty."
"What is it you want Lord Baelish?" Sansa looked at him.
Petyr waited as the royal guard knocked on the door. As the door was opened for him, he swept in. And…what was wrong with the Starks? This was not what a crown prince's rooms should look like! It was a chaos of carelessly laid bits and pieces of whatever a curious boy could stuff in his pockets. Paper drawings of bridges stuck to the walls, stacks of books, bits of paper with sigils, and scribbling about.
Oh, the furs and everything were of high quality, but clearly, that was wasted on the boy. The tower of some sort being made of sticks on one table was not particularly interesting but added to the picture of the boy's identity. "Your Highness." Petyr bowed to the eleven year old.
"Lord Baelish." Rickon blinked at him. "My sister isn't here?"
Petyr straightened. "Well, it's a good thing I came here to see you then."
"Er…why?" Rickon's brow furrowed.
This was why he didn't like children. Not that grown men were often more clever. His face was the perfect image of affability as he drew out his valyrian steel knife. "I thought you should have this, Highness."
"Why?" His face was suspicious then as he didn't attempt to reach out for the knife.
Petyr missed King's Landing. "This was the knife that almost killed your brother. I have no need of it, but perhaps you might?"
Rickon's eyes widened as he accepted the knife. His lips pulled up showing teeth in a distinctly inhuman manner, the great wolf by the fire growled lowly. "How do you have this?"
"Your mother brought it to King's Landing." Fucking Starks and their tempers.
Rickon nodded. "Thank you."
"Think nothing of it, who better to have it than the brother of its intended victim?" Petyr replied, he'd planted the seed. Now there was little left but to see it play out. After all, until the looming war thinned the herd so to say there were few moves to be made. Well, that wasn't entirely true.
/
Daisy was awake…way earlier than she wanted to be awake. She sleepily patted Seth on the shoulder. "Thanks for waking me."
"Of course Holiness." Seth yawned as ran a hand through his hair. "Did ya need anything else?"
She shook her head. "No, go back to guarding Jon."
"Bit hard to do without weapons," Seth grumbled as he turned to leave.
Daisy huffed. "It's about appearances, you're doing a good job."
He preened at the praise, though he stayed tired looking. "If I may, why did you want to be woken this early?"
"I'm a god, the times of day it's acceptable for me to sneak into the kitchens are limited. And kitchen staff know all." Daisy was smug about how the Dothraki sparring had gone. She was vaguely curious about the translation of the drinking song she'd learned last night. Also, honestly, they were so much like the Wildlings it'd been kind of hilarious. She was dragging Lokmir with her next time.
Seth blinked. "Why do you want to sneak into the kitchens? I can go fetch anything you want."
"It's not about the food, it's about understanding how this court functions." Daisy nudged the kid. "You should be able to get some more sleep or get back to guarding Jon."
Seth bit at the inside of his cheek. "I'm not on guard right now…I could come with you?"
"Why do you want to?" Daisy asked curious for the answer. Her followers always surprised her, and she knew Seth and Conin had complicated feelings at both being part of the royal guard and a part of her order.
His brow furrowed as he looked down. "Jon's safe, Joran's on duty right now. And I…I don't totally understand what you're doing. But I want to learn."
"Alright, follow my lead, but just be yourself." Daisy would have been smiling more if she wasn't still exhausted…it felt like she'd barely hit her mattress before Seth had been knocking on the door. She found herself yawning as they walked down the halls. It was easy enough to guide them away from where people were. "Are you liking being in the royal guard?"
He straightened. "It's an honor!"
"I asked if you liked it." She found herself smiling fondly at him, he reminded her of herself when she'd first been given a badge. And, ya know, no evil Nazis waiting to ruin it all for him.
Seth opened and then shut his mouth. His voice was quiet as he finally gathered his words. "I was nothing. We made ships out of the reeds and would ferry people and goods across the river. Only had a small farm. I thought I could learn the trade and in a few years maybe marry a girl, start a family, and make reed boats of my own. Or maybe get an apprenticeship with someone. But then the Bolton army came through."
Daisy listened quietly, frankly at this point she was sure it wasn't possible to be more glad she'd murdered the Boltons. But listening to others kept proving that wrong. Cause fuck the Boltons.
"Father hid my sisters in the house, under the floorboards. But my brothers and I…we wouldn't have all fit so we just waited. Hoped they'd leave us alone. They needed more men. War of Five King's thinned their numbers see. So they took me and my brothers o'er the age of two and ten and pressed us into service. Our Ma..she cried, so they killed her for it. And I served them…for two years I wore their colors, ate their food, and defended their holdings."
She reached out squeezing his forearm. "That wasn't your fault, it wasn't a choice. Death or service isn't a choice."
"Serving you, serving the Starks…is a choice. And maybe I'll be able to look my father in the eye someday." He shook his head seeming to try and pull himself together. "I can make the world better, that has to count for something."
Daisy wished she was a god who could bless or give something of importance to him. "It counts, more than anything. When you had a choice you chose to stay and do the right thing."
Daisy closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she smelled the delicious scent of fresh bread. She grinned at Seth. "Remember, be friendly. We're the nice approachable members of the Northern party."
He plastered on a nervous, but genuine attempt at a friendly smile on his face.
She raised a brow. "Just go with tired, wait till you feel it to smile." Daisy turned her back on him and quietly slipped into the room. Not silently, but not with the appropriate level of panache she really ought to be using considering the 'god' thing. But then that was the point.
Daisy spotted the barrel of fruit and actually felt her mouth water. The lack of fresh fruit in the North was uh…it was a thing. The North mostly just had apples, apparently, they stored well. "Is that a pear?"
One of the cooks froze, eyes widening in horror as he ripped the hat from his head and dropped to his knees. "Holiness!"
The bustle of the kitchen screeched to a halt.
Daisy stepped forward, and carefully helped the cook rise back to his feet. "Don't kneel, you'll just bruise your knees." She gave her warmest smile. "Seth here and I were just hoping to beg for some breakfast before it's served."
"Of course! We can send it ta your quarters." He had an actual tremor to him. His heart was beating near out of his chest.
Daisy released her light hold on him. Ah, this wasn't going to work if they were this scared of her. Terrorizing these poor people was not something she wanted or intended. She kept her smile. "Seth here can bring it up." She hoped he understood the implication to be nice as she touched his shoulder. "Pears, please."
He gave a faint nod, clearly, he'd noticed they were terrified of her as well.
She smiled. "Thanks." Daisy gave a brief parting wave and easily breezed out of the kitchen, her smile slid off her face the second the door closed behind her. That was not a good sign.
As Daisy made her way back to her quarters she paused. "Lord Varys."
"Your Holiness." The bald, enrobed man bowed to her. The faintest scents of perfumes wafted from his deceptively soft person.
So this was the famous spymaster she'd heard so very much about. Daisy note the faintest signs he'd moved quickly, the faint sign of labored breathing disguised. "You had my rooms watched."
"No insult was meant, I assure you, your Holiness." He tipped his head in something no doubt meant to be seen as an apology.
She smiled, well, he wasn't useless at his job. "None taken, I think I'd be more insulted if you weren't having my rooms watched."
Varys folded his hands in front of him, the draping yellow fabric hiding them from view. "Shall I take that as a compliment, Holiness?"
"If you want." She considered him. "I'm curious, how did you miss the rumors I existed? Like I get it, the North is super cut off from everywhere else. But not that cut off."
He straightened slightly at that. "My little birds tell me the strangest things. Who is to say what is true and what is not? So often the movements of mortals cast shadows so large you'd think them a monster instead of a man."
"Come on then, you have my attention till I get back to my quarters." She kept her stride slow however as he fell into step beside her. "What sort of monster were you thinking I was?" She raised a brow, "Or are still considering I might be?"
Varys made a soft noise. "I couldn't possibly say, though so many great and terrible things came from Old Valaryia, and what is to say those dark magicks of east and further still in Asshai, or further still from the land of the God King's in YiTi?"
"Good luck finding the answers you want." Daisy considered him. "I think it'll be more interesting to see you investigate than to tell you." And well, lighting the fire so to say on the small council of men sworn to the Targaryen cause. The more stretched, the more likely someone would make a mistake.
Something like a smile was on his face. "A challenge then? You are quite fascinating, Holiness."
"If you found me interesting, and certainly knew of my existence, why tell your Queen nothing of me?" She eyed him curiously, if she had to guess he'd written her off as a minor witch or creature of magic and hadn't imagined she'd have been part of the diplomatic party sent to Dargonstone.
Varys's vibrations were measured but there was an edge to them and him. No matter how good, he did not like her. "She has a kingdom to claim, baseless rumors that could be nothing would be a waste. I've met warlocks and witches before, they never were so great a threat on their own as you have proved yourself to be."
"Have you?" Daisy was genuinely curious then, magic seemed..subdued in this world.
His voice held old fear turned solemnity. "Oh I have, and much was taken from me."
Daisy didn't touch him but halted her footsteps. "I don't take human or blood or any kind of sacrifice." She held his eyes. "I'd appreciate not being woken to a dead animal on my doorstep. The cost of my powers is mine to pay, no one else's."
"A relief to hear, Holiness."
Daisy slowed, and then fell out of her tai chi stance, using a few brief bursts of vibrations to open the door. "Hey, how'd it go? I'm sorry for leaving you to that."
"No, it was right." Seth set a tray of food on the table. His gaze was fierce as he looked at her. "The fire god, R'hllor. He's vile."
Her brow rose, not that she was a fan of the fire god she'd heard about. The fact the Stormlanders used their faith as a reason for trying to kill Sansa principly, ensured she was wary of the whole damn religion. But she remained quiet.
Seth obliged in answering the unasked question. "Stannis burned all of them that wouldn't convert to worshipping R'hllor." His hands made jerky, angry motions. "When they saw the Targaryen sails on the fleet they got everyone they could out, those here expected to be killed. They all think you might demand their lives for praying to the wrong god." He met her horrified expression. "I promised them you wouldn't, that you didn't even like being worshipped. But…"
"It's alright." Daisy held up a hand. "I'm used to being feared. That's the normal reaction."
Seth bit at the inside of his cheek. "It's not fear, it's….terror."
"Time and their fears not happening are the only things that'll help." Daisy wondered at the fact it actually bothered her. She was used to it? "Did they say anything about the Targaryen court?"
He shook his head. "I failed to learn anything." His shoulders slumped. "I just…they were so afraid and…"
"Hey, no it's fine." Daisy stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. She knew how eager all of the Order members were to please her. Bunch of over-eager rookies, not that she had more than a couple of years on most of them. But still. "You did really good. You and Joran can work on trying to build a rapport with the servants going forward." She squeezed his shoulder, her boys took the faintest failure way too hard. But she was getting the idea that it very much had nothing to do with her.
/
Ser Marlon Manderly had no interest in getting drunk. It might make him a bore, but he didn't intend to end up as fat as his Lord and the heir to his House. Not that it was his place to judge them, but he did not wish to end up looking like them. He was a knight, a trained tradesman entrusted with a great deal by his Lord, and was content with that. And now he'd been entrusted with something of grave importance by his Queen. He would not be clouding his mind with wine. "Water."
"Of course." Tyrion waved to the servant to serve him. "Now, my Lords, I believe we have matters to discuss for our mutual benefit."
Marlon didn't even bother looking at Lord Greengood. They'd spoken ahead of time about what they wished to accomplish here, and he was the one most used to negotiations. He accepted the cup of water. "We do, we all know our respective royal idiots will keep dealing in pointless absolutes till we're all at war if we don't do something about it."
"Bluntly put." Tyrion took a deep drink of his wine as the dwarf settled in his chair. "But not wrong."
Marlon held back any insult he felt in regard to the Lannister dwarf. "The way I see it your Queen demands ours bends the knee. Which will happen when the seven hells freeze over. And Jon wants your Queen to march all her armies North to fight the Dead, which is ridiculous."
"Ah, compromise. You are speaking my language now good Ser. An agreement on Cersei to begin with I think?" Tyrion set his wine down, folding his hands on top of the table.
He gave a nod. "Our own conflict can wait till the Mad Bitch is dead."
"Quite reasonable, your Queen would need to agree to no further moves to gain fealty from regions of the south of course." Tyrion agreed, his green eyes as sharp as any of his family's likely were. It was impressive considering how much wine he had likely already drunk.
Marlon knew his shoulders were stiff with tension, but their god had been right that they needed to intervene before they ended up at war from Jon's good intentions. "Our alliances from prior to this war of course would not be considered an attempt to violate those terms. Our armies already are aiding our allies in the Riverlands." Which was a bit of a stretch from what he knew. Of course, things could change, but the Vale forces held Harrenhall, and any Tully loyalists were likely weeks of sending word of their loyalty if they hadn't already. Not to mention the Blackwoods had already sent word of fealty. Of course, logistically it was a nightmare. But it was far too early to show such weakness.
"Well, that does make it rather difficult to negotiate. What borders exactly would our Queen be required to respect?" Tyrion's voice was grating in its political acumen.
Marlon took a drink of his water. "Any attempts at expanding the Winter Kingdom past the lands of the Vale and the Riverlands. With that front of war settled your Queen will be free to burn Cersei and whatever other mad southern shites she wants."
"Winter Kingdom? Are we to expect you to name Sansa your Night's Queen as well?" Tyrion waved off any attempt to speak to that. "But I digress. The Targaryen court would be amenable to such an arrangement so long as no Northern man at arms, knight, or other soldier steps foot into the Riverlands or Vale."
Marlon gave a nod of assent. "We'd find that amenable." He set his water down. "Let us be blunt."
"I do love your northern bluntness. Makes things ever so much easier to parse out you see." The smug, golden-headed lion replied.
Marlon twitched with the desire to strangle the bastard. "We both know how this will go. Small concessions until we have no further to go without war or a formal alliance."
"My Queen would be amenable to House Stark retaining certain rights and privileges, including the right to call themselves princesses and princes. She is most generous to those who bend the knee." Tyrion offered, but he clearly knew the answer.
Lord Greengood scoffed. "We shouldn't have bent to the dragon fuckers the first time."
"Figure of speech." Tyrion winced. "I suppose we must negotiate something far less secure and binding then?"
Marlon laid his hands on the arms of his seat. "You have an unmarried Queen with no heirs, and we have an unmarried prince. As he would be consort to your Queen a dowry of some contested lands would not be inappropriate. " Not that it'd be called a dowry outside of this conversation.
"Her Grace has many options for husband." Tyrion protested.
He couldn't help the scoff then. "No, you don't. You have Willas Tyrell, some minor Dornish Prince who probably survived to secure either of those two alliances. Those are your only good options. And both are terrible. But you have to have a Westerosi if you want the kingdoms to not crack under her foreign army. Jon's royal, but as a legitimized bastard from a separate kingdom, is no threat to her throne. And he's a good man."
"There's plenty of noble Lords in the south." Tyrion rebutted.
Marlon smiled, it wasn't nice. "Who? You need a son of one of the House's Paramount. You might be able to get around that with the Hightowers, but she can't marry lower or it'll be taken as a snub by your allies, few though they seem to be. House Baratheon is gone, House Martell is in the middle of a coup, House Lannister are your enemies, and House Tyrell has been in bed with the Lannisters for years. House Greyjoy has old repugnant pirates, and a eunuch. House Tully has only Edemure, a broken wreck who was last seen in Lannister captivity, and House Arryn has a mad boy Lord. Do you have some minor but heroic Westerosi general leading your Queen's armies perhaps?"
"Yes, yes, you've made your point." Tyrion downed his wine, before holding it out to be refilled. "Not quite as grim as you're making it out to be. But you've made your point. And beyond some very significant concessions on borders, why should I take this to my Queen?"
Marlon knew it was time to hold out the bait. "The Vale, and our full support in her conquest of the south. Of course, we'd expect aid in our war against the Dead."
"Daenerys can't just march her whole army to the North!" Tyrion protested.
Greengood waved it off. "What good would the Dothraki be to us? Their bloody horses couldn't make it through the snows we'll have had by the time they get there. It's her and her dragons that'd be useful. Mayhaps eight thousand Unsullied, those dragons, and acknowledgment of the North as an independent nation."
"Or, we wait till summer comes again after we've solidified Targaryen rule in the south. Then our Queen, her dragons, and her armies sweep North and force you and your Queen to bend the knee." Tyrion countered, clearly meaning the threat to force concessions.
Marlon shook his head. "And if you try our god will turn your Queen, her dragons, and her armies to bloody paste."
"Yes, your Queen does have a powerful lover. Which makes me question why your god isn't simply taking care of your White Walker problem for you. Or why your Queen's southern enemies still draw breath. A thing I'm grateful for. But still, is it that she hasn't or that she can't?"
"She's the Destroyer of Worlds, what do you think happens if she unleashes her power against a half-million Dead marching across hundreds of miles of terrain? Now, a dragon right in front of her? That would be a different story wouldn't it." Marlon held the half man's eyes.
Tyrion seemed to consider his words, as he drank his wine. "Let's begin with an agreement of peace while my sister lives, shall we?"
"You convince your Queen to accept, we'll convince our Hand to offer it." Marlon paused. "And perhaps if we could get them to speak amicably a possible arrangement might be easier to negotiate?"
Tyrion poured himself more wine. "Then we have some details to agree on."
"Aye, let's get this over with." Marlon agreed as he waved off the second offer of wine.