Olenna popped a fig into her mouth. "I must say, your Dothraki are quite spectacular, your Grace."
"They are great warriors." Daenerys agreed from her seat as they watched over the most lavish feast that could be prepared without it being gauche considering the circumstances. And while avoiding inviting a large number of nobility from the Reach. War did necessitate such concessions after all.
Olenna eyed the warriors who guarded their mutual Queen, they indeed were a sight, as was the great hoard outside their walls. "No doubt if the remaining Lannister forces meet them in the field your children won't even be needed for victory." She didn't mention the weighted looks several of the noble women there were giving the Dothraki. Though Olenna could admit she saw the draw.
"Hmm…quite a lot of trust in us to arrive ahead of your vast army alone?" Olenna wondered if it was recklessness or political astuteness.
Daenerys looked at her. "You would not have harmed me, not with my child above you, and my army a day away. The only one who could hope to stand against such a force is the Goddess currently trying to talk with one of my guards…I'm unsure how much they understand of one another."
"Well reasoned, your Grace." She eyed where the Goddess was gleefully attempting a conversation with a very enthusiastic Dothraki. It seemed to be about hair? "We will not forget you made a deal with a Goddess to save us."
Daenerys's purple eyes examined her, that spark of intelligence that had told Olenna this was the basket she needed for her revenge to be seen to. "No doubt you will prove it a cost worth paying."
"A mad price to pay, but perhaps the right amount of madness." Olenna raised her glass goblet towards the queen before drinking.
There was the faintest twitch at the word 'mad' but otherwise, the queen remained unperturbed. "Varys cautioned against the bargain. But if everything he told me is true, the North would never have bent the knee regardless."
"No, they likely would not have." Olenna agreed, best ensure no one put stupid ideas into the queen's head, like the North being anything more than a death and resource trap for her. "Likely the Riverlands and Vale will be little better for you." She eyed the god. "The Vale might bend, but at least half the Riverlands will die for the Starks rather than bend. Brave, but incredibly stupid." She noted the faint tightening of the Queen's mouth. "There are ways around all that. Besides, you have a Stark Prince vying for your hand. He wouldn't be hard to look at if you marry the man."
Daenerys sipped at her wine, her eyes traveling to where Prince Jon looked confused and slightly concerned as he attempted to follow along with whatever the Goddess and the Dothraki were speaking of. "Tell me, do you believe I should accept his suit?"
"I couldn't say, you'd be the one forced to live with him." Olenna was still unsure who the boy's blasted mother was. He could either be a vital necessity or a tolerable if insulting option. It all came down to his blasted mother, and just how terrifying Goddess Quake was. Two things she was unsure of.
Daenerys raised a brow. "I gave up the North for House Tyrell. I will not marry into it as well."
"No hope there?" Olenna sighed. "Well, that's that then." She could hear the certainty there. Unless something catastrophic happened that was the voice of a woman who'd made up her mind. It wasn't even a poor decision. It was hard to make a House more tightly indebted to you than acquiring divine intervention and debt on behalf of them. And House Tyrell would not benefit from further chaos. She could do something to see Tyrion Lannister removed from his position as Hand and her Willas put in the post instead. Once the Westerlands were retaken the man might step down from the position of his own accord. Rebuilding that soon to be leveled kingdom would require a great deal of attention. "Then I'd say marry the man. He'll do you more good than some Dornish prince or Riverlord."
Her lips twitched slightly. "Advice some would not agree with."
"Yes well, men are idiots sometimes. A Lord of the Vale might save you the loss of that kingdom, but with a Goddess supporting the Northern claim, well, you might even get the Vale as a concession with the marriage and some of the Riverlands if you're very good at negotiating the alliance and the North is very desperate." Olenna knew it would depend less on the people here than it would on the Northern Queen. Which left the question, was the frightened, stupid and uninteresting girl from King's Landing a lie, or was she the truth? "Perhaps you should wait for your Hand for the rest of this conversation?"
Daenerys made a sound of faint amusement. "You're not wrong."
"I do believe our conversation is at an end anyways." Olenna was going to enjoy the disaster about to occur. Because Jon Stark was approaching.
The poor stiff man bowed. "Your Grace." He held out his hand. "If I could have this dance?"
"You may, your Highness." Daenerys was looking at him with the look of a woman judging a man's worth as she set her hand in his, half challenge written across her face.
Olenna watched as he led the Dragon Queen to the dance floor. She popped another fig into her mouth only to pause as their resident goddess dropped unceremoniously onto the chair the Queen had just vacated. The chair that was the closest thing they had to a throne. A chair the goddess hadn't shown the least bit of interest in since her arrival. "Expecting your prince to be that poor of a dancer?"
"He needs at least six pints before he'll loosen up enough to resemble a good dancer instead of an uncomfortable if practiced one." Goddess Quake replied lightly while swiping a fig for herself. "And unless I'm very wrong, I don't believe Dany's a pinnacle of dancing ability either. If we got them both drunk enough they might pull it off."
Olenna judged the way Daenerys and Jon were walking out onto the dance floor. "So preventing the Queen from fleeing. And if your prince decides to flee?"
"Then I'm a much better dancer than him and will help her out." She smiled. "Though you're underestimating Jon, he'll keel over and die before he abandons anyone."
Olenna made a sound of frustration, honestly…the likely future consort to their Queen was…well he was boring and would certainly not be providing the southern court with a political mind in defense of the Targaryen restoration. But he might give them a route to peace before the snows of winter truly set in. And well, he really only was needed to look pretty and give the Queen heirs. "That confident in your dancing, Holiness?"
Goddess Quake laughed. "I like dancing, and your grandson's been teaching me your world's dances." She watched the dancing across the floor. "And it's about control of your body, which isn't so dissimilar to fighting."
"Being light on one's feet is certainly a skill." Olenna considered the woman. "Any of my House would be honored to dance with you should you decide to, and I'd have caned the fools if they skipped those lessons." She kept the goddess in the corner of her eye as she watched the well…it was not a complete disaster of Jon and Daenerys beginning to move. At least both of them were pretty enough it wasn't cringe inducing to watch them.
The Goddess, tipped her head to the side, eyes flicking to where Garlan and Leonette were speaking to one another. "In a bit. I have a retreat to block for now." She winked at Olenna.
Which, fair enough. It wasn't like Daenerys could sit anywhere while her seat was occupied without lowering herself in regards to the goddess. Which meant she was rather trapped on the floor. "So I am to be blessed with your company then?"
"Blessed with my company?" The Goddess looked at her, laughter on her face. "It's so strange you people have decided to be reverent towards me. There's usually more screaming and running, also attempted murder. Not that I don't appreciate not having everyone who spots me flee. But it's weird."
Olenna huffed. "Idiots. I doubt running would do us any good. Besides, I haven't been able to run anywhere in years." She picked up a glass cup of wine and took a drink. "Bloody useless thing to do."
"It really is." The Goddess perked up as she spotted the Queen's translator approaching. "Missandei! It's been ages!"
"You saw me less than two weeks ago, your Holiness." The woman replied without the faintest hint of discomfort or unease at being the focus of a being of indescribable power. Which, nerves of steel with that girl, a talent worth watching.
The Goddess shrugged. "There's been an army since then. And I hear your lover is soon to join us?"
A faint tinge of color rose to the woman's cheeks. "The detachment of the Unsullied are marching as we speak."
"Good for you." The Goddess looked genuinely kind as she waved to the seat next to her. "From what you and Dany say he must be a remarkable man."
Missandei gently took the seat offered. "He is very brave, Holiness."
"Who is this mystery lover of yours then?" Olenna asked half ordered.
Missandei dipped her head slightly. "Grey Worm, General of her Grace's Unsullied forces."
"A eunuch?" Olenna scoffed as she took a drink of her wine. "I am surrounded by women with the strangest taste. A man without a cock for a lover." She shook her head, eying the god. "At least you merely have a taste for innocence."
The Goddess didn't twitch, but a certain something in her tone changed. "Innocence?"
Olenna looked at the goddess over her goblet of wine. "There's no shame in it, lots of men prefer the pretty innocent things. It's a role we all play as women at one point or another." She waived off. Clearly, a topic to be avoided.
"You believe that describes Sansa Stark?" The Goddess's casual body position had turned…looser ever so slightly. It sent a shiver down Olenna's spine.
She looked at the Goddess. "When she wasn't praying for hours in the gods' wood she was sewing in the gardens. Sweet girl, very pretty. I can see the appeal."
"Fascinating." Her eyes no longer smiled as her mouth did. "I wouldn't choose 'pretty' to describe her, but then again I never knew her as a child. Striking definitely, there is something to the blood of her last husband splattered across her face I couldn't look away from. Elegant maybe? She has been cutting the condemned's heads off in a single swing. Ruthless in how she's ended four ancient and noble Houses now. Undefeated even in the battles she didn't personally lead her army to. But then I didn't know her as a child prisoner, alone, without a friend or ally, being tortured in a hostile city for three years. How long did your granddaughter survive with her House, position, wealth, and allies as an adult?"
Olenna nearly dropped her cup as the wine within it froze solid, the stem she was holding turning cold to the touch, her eyes held by the unflinching gaze of a being that was power folded into human skin.
The Goddess spoke, turning her attention back to Missandei and holding her hand out. "May I have this dance?"
"I'm a poor dancer, your Holiness." Missandei deferred. "I have not done so since Master Eraz required me to practice such with his good nephew many years ago now."
Olenna's heart was still racing from the cliff's edge she'd just nearly thrown herself off, but she took back her thoughts on Missandei's nerves, damn woman was turning down a goddess who was already displeased if not outright insulted. Apparently, the woman had enough balls for both herself and her lover's entire fucking army.
"If you don't want to dance, that's fine." Goddess Quake didn't lower her hand. "But I could care less if you step on my toes."
Missandei stared into the goddess's eyes without fear for a long moment, and then accepted the offered hand.
Olenna breathed out in relief as the pair left her. A shiver of sheer terror had gone down her spine for a minute there. Though she supposed that answered her question of how much of the Sansa Stark she'd known had been a mask, and also how the hell the girl had gotten the attention of a fucking Goddess of Ruin. She set her glass goblet of now very frozen wine down and refused to flinch as Willas took the regular seat beside her.
"Grandmother." His face was practiced in its pleasantness. "You look pale?"
She shot a glare at him. "Is that all?" She looked back out at the floor. "Get your brother to ask the Goddess to dance once this one is over."
"Naturally." He looked at her curiously. "What did you say to our holy guest?"
Olenna covered his hand with hers. "Not now." She swallowed, the world was mad. And she was more rattled than she'd like to admit. Because the god had been right. Sansa had survived what had killed women with far more advantages than her.
"Do I need to worry?" Willas asked, face still perfectly pleasant as his voice filled with concern.
She wondered, did they? It was quite clear House Tyrell would not be rising higher than they already stood. At least not unless Garlan and or Leonette actually had caught the attention of the Goddess. A thing that was unlikely, though certainly, they'd made a better impression than the rest of their House, herself included. The Dragon Queen had bound them forever by paying for divine intervention. There was little to be gained by marrying one of their House they were not already obliged to offer, would offer even. A thing Daenerys clearly already knew. Olenna herself would not forget their Queen had saved them at the cost of a kingdom. "Not yet."
Willas nodded, his gaze sweeping the hall. "Her choice to dance with the freed slave?"
"Interesting, but then the woman has steel in her veins and a brain." Olenna would take note of the foreign advisor, she had at the least the vague respect of a goddess and certainly the high regard of a Queen…if the woman's eunuch lover died in the wars tossing one of the cousins down the line of succession at the woman might be wise. "Her Holiness wasn't wrong."
He hummed. "About what?"
"That she can dance." Olenna replied, it was an understatement, the goddess was more than capable.
/
Yara Greyjoy stared at the motley collection of people in the smithy. "You cannot be serious."
"We wear Lannister colors, pretend to be an additional patrol heading out the mud gate and we can just walk out of the city." The insane Northern Joran said. "We get out of sight, then loop to the beach and meet your crew."
Davos looked at the Lannister colors. "You serve a god."
"Her Holiness suggested the ruse with the Freys." Joran beamed in satisfaction of mimicking the god he was…concerningly reverent towards.
The Unsullied man, Mold Rat, spoke up in halting common. "We must be careful of the…curfew."
"Best if Davos 'an I do the talking." The smith, Gendry said, crossing his arms. "Lot of you don't sound local."
Yara's shoulders slumped, well it looked like they were dressing up as Lannister guards then. At least they'd be out of the city? Whole place was a nightmare, crawling with guards and crawling with terror. "Fine, but you're not slapping color on me again."
"If we're dressing as Lannisters we'll have a hard time hiding what darker skinned men we have here already." Davos gave a critical look at the Dothraki who were already in Lannister reds.
The Dothraki had been delighting in murdering Lannister soldiers in dark alleys for the past week. Vicious bastards. Yara really was going to have to offer positions in her fleet to all of these idiots even if they were fools. "Fine, I assume we leave before sunrise then?"
"Best time, poor lighting, tired guards, and nobody expects murder in the day." Joran replied with so much passion. Honestly, he was born to be a pirate, clearly.
Theon rubbed at his chin. "I'll have to leave tonight to signal the ship in."
"Best get one of our foreign friends out with you at the same time then," Yara spoke. "And should we consider getting a cart? We could hide the Dothraki in something like that."
Joran looked at her gleefully. "What type of cart? It needs to be something they're not gonna question."
Well, if they were going to do this, Yara crossed her arms. "A body cart of some of your lot's latest murder victims being sent to the Westerlands."
/
Jon stepped with Daisy to the light airy music of the hall. "How do you know this?"
"Loras." Daisy replied lightly as she danced with him. "Loosen up, you shouldn't be so stiff. It's a dance, not a funeral."
He did try, as he led them into the next spin. "Can I stop dancing after this?"
"You've done four dances dude." Daisy raised her brows but huffed in amusement. "Go ask Dany to like walk in a garden or something with you." She spun away, before returning back to his side. "And ask her if you can court her again."
He couldn't help how his eyes tracked the silver head of hair that had been whisked away by Garlan Tyrell at the last change of partner. "How do I ask her again?"
"You just ask her." Daisy's hand in his squeezed before releasing him as they separated slightly again.
Which, was deeply unhelpful but he also knew the middle of the dance floor wasn't where to beg for help with girls. "I'd hoped for more than that."
"She danced with you, twice. You at least know she doesn't hate you." She looked irritatingly smug.
He let out a long breath as the song came to an end and he was forced to bow to Daisy's curtsy. Which really should have looked ridiculous considering she didn't curtsy, ever, and the fact she was wearing pants. It didn't. Straightening he touched her arm. "Thank you."
"Good luck." She smiled before swanning off for Garlan.
Jon approached Daenerys who was now free of her Tyrell dance partner who Daisy had just gleefully stolen. He wondered if this is what would have felt like for Robb to help him gain the attention of a pretty girl? But such thoughts were not for now. He came to a halt before her. "If we could speak, your Grace?"
"Are we not already speaking Stark?" She was faintly breathless, a flush from dancing across her pale skin, bright vivaciousness in her eyes, and utterly breathtaking.
He couldn't help the start of a smile on his face. "In a slightly more private setting than this?"
"Very well."
Jon barely processed the process of walking into the gardens lit by only the moon and the light from the halls spilling out of its windows. He felt mostly nauseous and terrified. He wasn't the one who was supposed to vie for the hand of powerful, gorgeous women. Yet here he was. "Your Grace…"
"You wish to speak of what you asked me before in the mines?" Daenerys finished for him, the moonlight made her look nearly ethereal.
He turned to face her fully. "Yes."
"Tell me Jon Stark, why should I marry you over every other man in the Seven Kingdoms?" Daenerys challenged, and it was a challenge.
Jon willed his honesty to be apparent, that he meant every word he would utter. "I'm not good at saying things right, or flattery or poetry or whatever girls like. But I would be a loyal husband to you. I would never raise a hand against you. I would never betray you. I would support you and stand by your side. Mayhap we could come to love one another, but we could be partners. I would not chaff as your consort, I would not ask for power, or try and command you."
"So sure you can suffer a Queen for a wife?" Daenerys asked, her eyes taking in his face.
He nodded. "I was born a bastard your Grace. I was never meant to rule anything. I only wanted an honorable life." Jon huffed, his lips twitching upwards. "Besides, I serve one Queen without envy already."
"And you could change your loyalty from your Queen to me?" She asked.
Jon's words stuck in his throat. Could he? The image of his sister flickered in his mind. His sister who had named him Stark. Who had given him her trust. Who he would have served all his days without hesitation or question. He spoke finally. "I could never work against my family for you. Never. They are my blood, my pack. But if we wed you would be mine and their family."
"You are an honest man." Daenerys reached up touching his cheek, the pads of her fingers barely brushing his skin. She dropped her hand away. "Very well, write your sister, and when our advisors arrive we will discuss terms."
He felt like he could breathe. "Truly?"
"I make no oath, but yes. If terms can be agreed upon I will marry you."