Chapter 80

Leonette Tyrell took her seat beside her husband Garlan on the embroidered settee in Lady Olenna's south solar. "The North wants an alliance with Daenerys and means to get that alliance through marriage."

"A daring choice. It might even work," Olenna said into the silence.

Her mother-in-law Alerie spoke up. "Can such a match prevail? He's a Stark bastard, legitimized or not. Our family's security depends on Daenerys Targaryen marrying into our House."

"Our security no longer only depends upon the Dragon Queen." Willas pronounced from where he was spinning his cane between his fingers. "A living god is a far graver risk than dragons." He frowned. "She favors the Starks, encouraging the match between the Starks and our Queen could prove…favorable. Especially if we gain any credit for having aided it."

Leonette considered that, what did Jon bring to the table as a prospective husband to Daenerys Targaryen? "He's not a terrible choice for Daenerys, he's a legitimized Northern bastard, he could never usurp her power. Nor is he likely to even consider such a thing."

"If his mother is Ashara Dayne and the Daynes can be persuaded to admit that fact, the people might even accept such a marriage. It'd certainly pacify the Dornish to some extent over that business with the Sands now that they're dead." Alerie put in.

Garlan grimaced. "If his mother is just a camp follower the Lords won't accept a bastard, legitimized or not, with the Queen. Not lightly."

"Jon may know who his mother was." Leonette put in gently. "Garlan and I can continue to befriend him, he is not as careful with what he says as he should be. Not that he says much unless you coax it out of him."

Willas gave a single nod to her. "Do it. If he proves to be Ashara Dayne or any noble woman's son ensuring he marries the Queen would be an obvious choice to secure favor for ourselves."

"You're thinking too small." Lady Olenna cut in. "We need more than a bit of pithy favor that can be forgotten when the sun rises."

Alerie looked at their matriarch. "And how do we do that? Willas is the only main House Tyrell left to wed. And of Daenerys's inner court there are few whose favor is even worth pursuing."

"There's a goddess." Leonette found herself saying. "Should her favor be seduced away from the Starks…"

Garlan tensed. "It would be worth far more than we could hope for. However, we could give grave insult with such a thing."

"Sansa Stark is a pretty girl, innocence written across her and tragedy in her wake, but not a particularly bright girl," Olenna said. "So our goddess has a taste for pretty things. Daenerys Targaryen is as beautiful as they come, and Willas more than pretty enough for a man. And that's beside the host of our idiot cousins. Surely someone could be found to warm her bed, at least while she is absent from Winterfell."

Leonette frowned. "Jon would take it as an insult."

"Then distract the boy. Besides, if he proves to have an unsuitable mother any of the girls from our various branches would be suitable to keep the boy pacified and bound to us. It could even be used to form a more intricate alliance. There would need to be a series of marriages, but we could facilitate such matches. Besides, I doubt Sansa Stark will hold the North without a goddess to prop her up."

Willas spoke slowly. "And if you're wrong grandmother? Loras wrote in glowing terms of Sansa's leadership and how her people respect her. If you've misjudged her, or if she is more than just a pretty face and a pleasurable fuck to the goddess, this could turn very badly against us."

"Which is why Jon Stark should be befriended that we might learn more, and her Holiness offered whatsoever she might want so long as she is our guest." Olenna looked faintly frustrated she had to state this. "We don't know enough to properly move yet. But you should clean yourself up. All of you, in case there is the faintest chance of her interest falling on anyone. And we must ensure everyone with the name Tyrell knows should her Holiness wish to bed them it needs must happen. If we have to pay sizable dowries to make up for a loss of virginity it'll be a small price to pay."

Leonette felt a sudden pang of horror. "You can't mean all of us." Garlan's hand squeezed her's near painfully.

"Oh, I mean all of us. Even if she wants you and or your husband, that is her right." Olenna's eyes were sharp, it was an order. "There are thousands of daisies growing over every inch of Highgarden, the briar maze has regrown to be as if the fire never touched it. The grass as if it was never overturned by battle. If we fail to gain her favor we may die. I've already lost my son and granddaughter. I won't lose the rest of you. If fucking a goddess is what is needed for us to survive that is what you'll do. It's a small price to pay."

Leonette bit her tongue, because Olenna wasn't wrong, no matter how her stomach rebelled at the idea. She prayed that neither she nor Garlen were to the goddess's tastes. Because she didn't know if she could do it. No matter how necessary. "What about Jaime Lannister?"

"We turn him over to Daenerys and hope she takes the man who stabbed her father in the back as an apology for our choice to ally with House Lannister." Willas said, clearly meaning to settle the matter.

Olenna sighed. "Fine, though there's an important question you're all forgetting to ask."

"What's that?" Willas looked at her with the trust all the Tyrells held in their matriarch.

She sipped at her wine. "Why that cunt Cersei Lannister still breathes. Because Sansa Stark has every reason to want vengeance on the Lannisters same as we do, and a god capable and willing to wipe out armies in her bed. A thing we've just discussed."

Garlan cut in, his voice pained before he visibly shook himself. "But why is Cersei's survival so important?"

Olenna stared at him with the same disappointment she showed anyone who wasn't Margaery. "Because if that god hasn't killed Cersei for her lover, it's because Sansa Stark hasn't asked because she needs Cersei for something, or that god said no. Which means that god might just want Cersei for something. And we'd better figure it out before Daenerys makes her attempt on King's Landing."

Leonette swallowed thickly, they were soon to play host to a Targaryen Queen in addition to their Northern prince, and the thousands of daisies that continued to grow everywhere served as a reminder the living god would be back, and soon. She had better find out what Jon Stark's interests were, he had to have more than just doing his duty and swinging a sword. Her family's lives might depend on it.

/

Arya waited until Daisy left the tower from speaking with her weird cult followers. And then she hopped off her perch and slid in beside this apparent god. "So. I hear you're fucking my sister."

"Hello to you too." Daisy hadn't startled at her sudden appearance, interesting. "And that's a gross way of putting it. Here to threaten me with the consequences if I ever hurt her? Because Jon already did that."

She raised a brow. "Huh, he did, did he?"

"He apologized afterward which kinda undercut the threat." Daisy wasn't bothering to hide the fondness she felt for Jon.

Arya noted that that was three of her siblings who were caught up in this being. "I also hear you're a god, and you're definitely not human?"

"Is that a 'prove you're a god question' or a 'I refuse to believe you're a god,' question?" Daisy rebutted, a curious lack of upset to her.

Arya kept her eyes on her. "There is only one god, and his name is Death."

"Like a god of death? Or the existential concept of death itself?" Daisy paused in her stride looking at her properly.

She tilted her head slightly. "The second."

"Morbid, but from that point of view I'm not a god, I'm just an incredibly powerful person...creature?" Daisy shrugged. "I don't create life or whatever or control some fundamental aspect of reality."

Arya pivoted slightly so that she was fully facing the 'god'. "It doesn't bother you that I don't think you're a god?"

"No, although I don't think the existential concept of death is sentient?" Daisy frowned. "Probably?" She shrugged. "At this point, I wouldn't be surprised."

This certainly explained a lot about how weird the Order was. "No arguments that you can't be killed?"

"I've gotten really close to dying a concerning amount of times. Something will get me eventually." Daisy tipped her chin up ever so slightly. "But I haven't lost yet."

Arya felt a flicker of memory of Tywin saying something similar to what felt like a lifetime ago at Harrenhall. She wondered how many battles this 'god' had fought to stand with the same confidence? "Lot of people tried to kill you then?"

"Want me to count other gods and monsters or just the humans?" Daisy had a smirk on her lips.

Arya felt a matching grin growing on her face. "Any of them still alive?"

"Not very many." Daisy rocked back on her heels. "How many of the ones who tried to kill you are still alive?"

She could feel her teeth showing. "Not very many." Arya enjoyed the quiet understanding. It also struck her as curious that the more masculine and practical clothing the 'god' was wearing looked as natural and comfortable on her as the summer gown she'd been wearing the day before. "So if you're not a god, what should I call you?"

Daisy laughed. "How about a person? Though you're in for a lot of arguing if you try to convince anyone I'm not a god. I've just accepted it at this point."

"A person. Interesting. So, are you a person too busy to train?" Arya was curious to see how her skills measured up.

Daisy shook her head, laughter in her voice. "You Northerners. Sure, I'll spar with you."

Arya folded her hands behind her back. "Good, and you may wish to get shirts with higher collars. I could see my sister's teeth in your neck this morning."

"It's healed now, kinda disappointing really." Daisy turned and began to walk towards the courtyard most used for sparring.

Her nose wrinkled as she followed. "Hilarious, but did not need to know that about my sister."

"If it makes you feel better, Jon's worst off on that score." Daisy remarked without a flicker of shame whatsoever.

Arya was fascinated, but she could respect it. "You don't care very much about what people think of you?"

"Only the opinions of the people who I care about matter." Daisy shrugged. "And why on earth should I feel weird about a hickey?"

She couldn't help it, she laughed.

Arya unsheathed her sword Needle, watching how Daisy easily flipped a single knife out, how her steps and weight were all balanced. A part of her was tempted to ask if Daisy didn't want a sword, but no, she understood enough about the woman's stance to know it wasn't that she was being dismissed. How she stood was closer to a Bravosi water dancer than a knight.

Arya stepped lightly, balanced as they circled each other. And then she lightly struck out to test how fast she was.

Daisy was fast and strong as she used her dagger to snap the blade away from her, and then she was sliding in close, her open hand dropped on Arya's forearm. And then Arya was lashing out. Daisy smoothly moved, sliding out of the way, while using her arm to force Arya to the side, then hooked her foot and Arya's back hit the ground.

She wheezed, staring up at the sky. A delighted grin spread across her face, and then she was leaping back to her feet, lips pulled back excited to keep fighting.

A minute later she was hitting the ground again from a kick.

A minute after that she was flipped again.

Wiping at her mouth she hopped to her feet again. "You're holding back."

"You're good, footwork is awesome." Daisy grinned right back at her.

Arya slid a knife out, a sword was pointless against an opponent fast and skilled enough to not just parry but break your form at first contact.

Staring up at the sky Arya decided that switching to the preferred range and weapon of her opponent had probably been very stupid. Also, she hurt…a lot, was soaked in sweat, and was breathing heavily. Her eyes flicked to the hand being held out to her by Daisy who was standing over her.

"Need a hand?" Daisy at least wasn't perfectly put together even if she annoyingly barely had a change in breathing.

Arya took the hand and let herself be pulled to her feet. "You're an annoying opponent."

"It is a bad match-up for you." Daisy laughed as she let go of her hand. "You specialize in speed and flexibility and depend on outmaneuvering your opponent. Which doesn't work against someone as fast and flexible as you who specializes in outmaneuvering but also has the advantage in reach and strength."

She accepted that it was true enough. Though she would pay to see Brienne or Greatjon or someone used to using their strength meet someone quick but also their superior in a game of muscle. "No rigid honor code to make things fairer?"

"Yeah nope. I'm a terrible cook if it makes you feel better?" Daisy offered.

Arya considered that. "How are you at lying?"

Arya was focused on the god across from her. "I watched children be eaten alive by rats."

"Truth." Daisy replied slowly.

Arya made a noise of irritation. "Fine, your turn."

"I lived in Afterlife for three years." Daisy said.

Arya's eyes narrowed, there wasn't so much a tell as she had a feeling about it. "Lie."

"Shit." Daisy's nose wrinkled as she reached out and lifted up the bottle of fermented pickle juice that was sitting between them on the bench and took a disgusted swig of it. She made a sound of deep revulsion as she set it back down while gesturing toward Arya.

She went with one of her kills off of her list. "I stabbed out Meryn Trant's eyes before I slit his throat."

Daisy's head shifted slightly. "Truth." She dropped her hands onto her knees. "The most intimidating person I've ever fought was a small, middle-aged, human woman."

"Lie." Arya rolled her eyes only to still as she saw the grin on Daisy's face. "Fuck, really?"

Daisy leaned back slightly. "Drink, and May would kill me if she knew I said anything about her age."

She took her swig of the foul drink. Gods it clung to her tongue and burned her sinuses. Shaking her head she refocused. But fuck Daisy not being affected by alcohol made regular drink a pointless forfeit. "I was Tywin Lannister's cupbearer."

/

As Sansa entered her private chambers, she understood immediately that tonight would be more like their conversations from before things had changed between them. Sitting on the fur by the fire, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, staring into the fire, was Daisy. Sansa sighed, taking off her heavy outer cloak and laying it aside. Pulling off her leather gloves, she set them on the table before pouring her own cup of tea. With quiet steps she approached before sinking down onto the soft fur beside Daisy. She took a sip of her tea. "Quite a lot has happened, hasn't it?"

"That's one way to put it." Daisy shot her a brief amused look before looking back into the fire. "I wonder sometimes if who I was before…if everything I was would hate who I am now." She scoffed. "I've proved everyone who was ever afraid of me right."

Sansa wished she was still young enough to just offer kindness. "Why would a younger you think that?"

"The first time I held a gun, a real one, the man I was holding it on asked me if I had what it took to pull the trigger." She huffed. "I didn't. I jumped out of a second-story window to avoid getting murdered as soon as we all realized that despite having the weapon I wasn't going to use it."

She felt a thrum of amusement at the idea of this younger and likely human version of her lover, doing something as ridiculous as jumping out of a window. It was exactly the sort of ridiculousness that suited the woman. "How old were you?"

"Seventeen." Daisy frowned. "Once I had powers I worked so hard to keep them controlled I was shattering my own body, I only used them as a blunt force - anything to prove I wasn't a monster."

Sansa sipped at her tea thinking about what Daisy was expressing. "I think we both know that what makes a monster isn't power or even killing. People may fear you, you're more powerful than I think any of us really understand." She reached out, touching Daisy's shoulder and meeting her gaze. "But that doesn't mean evil."

"I killed an army, and I feel…nothing." Daisy was looking at her like she was…waiting for something.

Sansa squeezed her shoulder. "Do you think I'm a monster for ruining the Forresters, for cutting off Torrhen Whitehill's head? For the no doubt thousands I will have ordered to their deaths by the time this is done? Let alone by the end of my life should it prove to be a long one?"

"No." Daisy set her tea aside, and gently took the hand from her shoulder and linked their fingers together. "Lord Forrester was an idiot. You'd have had infighting if your Lords thought they could get away with leveraging your favor to settle personal disputes. And it would have destroyed the united front you've built."

Sansa ran her thumb along Daisy's where their hands had ended up resting between them. "Thank you."

"Of course, I think the whole monarchy thing is dumb as rocks. Like you're all one stupid or mean baby away from anarchy." Daisy huffed. "It's a terrible way of choosing a leader. But for all that, your people are very lucky to have you. One head, and one Lord's downfall, and your entire country continues to have a chance at surviving. You made the hard choice, and you did it with all the kindness you could. Don't think I missed what you're doing with Mira, or saving the Whitehill girl."

Sansa felt a warm ember in her chest at the simple understanding. "You killed one army and saved a kingdom, and utterly reshaped the death toll the southern war will see. I see what you and Jon are doing. The position you are putting me in. I can even see the sense in it, it might even work. I don't think your actions were so different from mine, only perhaps on a larger scale."

Daisy looked at her for a long moment. "You always think the best of me."

"More people should." Sansa didn't understand it exactly, everything Daisy had done had been to protect or help others. She looked away. "I expected to feel…more when I cut Lord Whitehill's head off. I just found it distasteful and a relief that I managed it in one swing."

Daisy hummed. "It's easy to kill someone. The only deaths I've ever regretted were the ones when I was under Hive's control."

"Maybe that's the difference. You lack guilt because it was necessary because you still hold what you achieved through violence as worth the sacrifice. I think that was why father was so firm to the old ways, that the one who passes the sentence swings the sword. If you are unable to deliver the sentence, then maybe it should not have been made in the first place." Sansa wished she'd listened more and been given more to listen to from her father.

Daisy shifted, something Sansa didn't quite understand. "I don't know who I'd be if there was nothing to fight."

"You're a protector. There will always be people to protect. Just how, as long as a single member of my family lives and the North still stands, my place will be in Winterfell." Sansa knew as certainly as she said it that it was why what they had and were for each other couldn't last. Because much as Daisy might not say it, she was loyal to her duty just as Sansa was to her's. She pressed their shoulders together. If this was not to last she would not spurn what happiness there was, no matter how fleeting.

Daisy was warm and soft as she leaned back, a gentle return of affection. They both stayed there quietly and together for a few peaceful minutes before Daisy laughed. "We always seem to end up discussing depressing things while sitting on the floor."

"We do." Sansa couldn't help the giggle at that. It was truly ridiculous. "What else should we talk about?"

Daisy nudged her gently, her tone teasing. "Well, apparently you Starks are a possessive bunch."

"Excuse me? We are not." Sansa looked at her in disbelief.

"Oh? You're not, are you?" Daisy definitely had suppressed laughter in her tone. "So Rickon and you both being absolutely set on not seeing me in Tyrell colors yesterday was a total coincidence? Because a Stark sure had a cloak with Stark colors over the top of the dress the second he could. And a different Stark was very eager to rip the thing off me." Her lips were curled up in smug amusement. "And your sister definitely noticed the mark your teeth left in my neck from this morning."

Sansa felt her face turning a bright red. She shoved at her shoulder. "You're being ridiculous!"

"I don't think I am." Daisy laughed and reached out, caught her face, and kissed her.

Sansa sighed into Daisy's mouth. She leaned her forehead against Daisy's, eyes closed. "The Tyrells certainly meant it as a claim."

"I think Leonette's gown was the nicest one they had that would fit me and I had blood on what I was wearing when I got there." Daisy pulled back, her eyes warm and crinkled around the sides.

If it was Jon she'd insist on explaining that yes, the Tyrells very much selected the single most Tyrell coated piece of clothing they could find that would fit. And yes they very much would give anything for the slightest claim or stake on her. But well, Daisy wasn't Jon…actually. "You're sure Jon isn't going to get seduced into Tyrell clutches?"

"Jon?" Daisy laughed. "Please, he's too honorable to do anything. He'd climb out the window if he had to."

Sansa couldn't help the giggling laughter that burst out of her. "Oh gods, he really would."