Chapter 102

Jon was going to have to learn to warg just so he could have some fucking birds find Daisy next time instead of having to run up four gods damned towers to find which one she'd gone and hidden on. He was going to feel that tomorrow. So many stairs, mortals weren't supposed to run up and down that many stairs in one afternoon. But, that was Daisy sitting on the stone walkway, her back against the rising tower, looking up at the blue sky.

He sighed, Sansa would know how to fix this. But she wasn't here. So he walked over and dropped down beside her. His lungs thanked him as he did so. "Think you can just fly me up here with you next time?"

Daisy laughed, looking at him then. "Thought you hated flying?"

"I might hate stairs more," Jon replied…and short flights would be less horrible…probably.

She leaned back, staring up at the sky. "I think I've fucked up for us. It was kinda super important I not be super scary like that while Dany was around. Makes her look less impressive. So uh…I'm going to have to find some way to fix that."

"Am I going to need to do anything?" Jon asked, accepting he was probably not going to like whatever needed to be done. And yet, gods he was relieved to have her back.

Daisy hummed frowning. "I'm not sure, I'll need to make sure I didn't start off a religious panic. Probably shouldn't have mentioned being willing to kill their gods."

"Is that something you can do?" He asked carefully, her words of being made to kill gods, not ones he'd forgotten.

She nodded. "Probably. If they are real, and if they're anything like that idiot earlier I'd fight them without thinking about it. And well, I haven't lost yet."

"Let's hope that doesn't happen." He huffed. "I think I've had my fill of gods between you and the trees."

Daisy shifted and then laid her head on his shoulder. "Smartest thing you've ever said."

Jon smiled as he stayed still lest he accidentally give her cause to move. He felt content sitting here. It was nice to get away from the Tyrell court. "So, do I want to know what you did to that man?"

"Channeled my powers through him without controlling it." Her voice was low. "I said I paid the price for my powers and I meant it. He was kind of a wuss about it."

He swallowed at the implication of that. That idiot in agony had once been Daisy suffering due to her powers originally. "You shouldn't have gone through that."

"Yeah well, life happens." She hummed. "Course, I mostly just fucked up my arms. So, might have been mean to channel it through all of him, but he was disgusting."

Jon completely agreed. "I would have stabbed him for what he said if you hadn't stopped him."

"I've become a violent person." A long sigh escaped her lips. "I'm not sure that's a good thing."

He shifted slightly, wrapping his arm around her without dislodging her from his shoulder. "So have I."

They were quiet together for a turn before Daisy spoke. "Do you think it makes us bad people? I don't regret what I've done. Just…Sansa would say I don't regret it because I made a choice that I stand by. That, so long as I believe I did the right thing, there is no point in regretting it. She'd say it a lot nicer. But still…I don't know. Sometimes it feels like maybe…I choose violence too easily."

"I think we're different there." Jon frowned as he tried to put it into words. "I regret nearly every swing I've made with my sword since I first saw battle. But I know this world, our lives, all of them, are better because you are here."

Her eyes flicked up to him from where she was leaning against him. "You're a good man Jon, don't let anyone tell you that you're not."

"Same to you." Jon let his head fall back, his focus on the white clouds in the late afternoon sunlight above them. He was also grateful their feet weren't hanging off the edge this time. He glanced down at her. "Why this tower? I went up several others thinking you'd be up them."

She laughed, pulling away slightly, though not out from under his arm. "It was the first one I saw."

"Well, everyone's probably worried we've been gone so long." He really didn't want to go back down and face the politicking of the south.

Daisy paused, she turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Jon, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything?" He defended. "Just said I had you cause your powers were affected by your moods. Didn't think you wanted just anyone tracking you down for a bit."

Her body rocked forward with laughter. "Oh, that's a problem."

"Why?" He frowned.

She shook her head slightly. "I suppose we should put on a show of my 'anger' being vented properly so no one thinks I'm still angry later."

"Er…oh…the thing you do with the lights is very impressive looking?" He offered.

Daisy snorted. "It's super cool, right? I'm getting pretty good at it."

"I've noticed." Jon's mouth twitched at that, fucking terrifying to anyone who didn't know her. But her delight at it was nice.

Daisy gestured at the sky. "Come on, I'll explain what I'm doing to make the light change."

Jon settled back against the stonework behind him, looking up. There were far worse ways to spend an afternoon. "You're helping me with my squires tomorrow. I don't know what to do with them."

/

Willas' leg was in agony. Standing on it for as long and as often as he had been was adding up. At least here and now he could sit with it raised. Compresses wrapped on his overheated and swollen flesh. Gritting his teeth, he looked at Maester Lomys. "Randal?"

"Alive, almost certain to survive." Their aging Maester replied, his face pale. "I've never seen anything like it."

Olenna's voice snapped. "Good gods man, what did the Goddess do to him?"

"I…am not entirely sure." Maester Lomys swallowed, his fingers shaking slightly. "I believe the smaller vessels under the skin have been damaged. The blood seems to have ceased flowing and slowed as usual with bruises but…there is no inch of his skin unblemished by it. We have been turning him so the blood does not pool too greatly in any single place."

A cold shiver ran down Willas's spine. "Is that the only damage?"

"That is…it is difficult to tell with the bruising, but from swelling and other signs I believe every bone in his body is to some degree…damaged." Lomys shook his head. "He's running a low fever, but I see no sign of damage to his brain, though whether his mind will recover…I cannot say."

Olenna scoffed. "Who gives a fuck if he survives, have you seen damage like this before?"

"No. It…I find her Holiness's threat to simply let her power touch him…likely. It's different than the remains of the Lannisters who were not utterly destroyed. Whatever she did to Randal was different. Other than that, I cannot say for sure." Lomys swallowed. "I do think she kept her powers from touching his organs. The damage if it had would have been…almost certainly fatal. His survival from blood loss just in the bruising is…far too narrow to be an accident."

Willas hissed a pained breath between his teeth. "Fuck."

"Indeed, my Lord," Lomys replied. He hesitated for a second before speaking. "Might I give you milk of the poppy? You're in pain."

"I will be nothing but clear-headed at this moment." Willas glared before closing his eyes and burying his face in his hands. "My apologies, but no. I will not risk being clouded while an angry goddess is within my halls."

Lomys bowed his head. "Very well, my Lord. But before you sleep, I must insist. Your health is my duty, and you will seriously harm yourself if you insist on continuing this way."

He grit his teeth but nodded. "Leave it in my rooms then, I'll take it before I rest."

"I would prefer you take it before the evening meal, but as you wish." Lomys was concerned, the strain of a man who had been caring for their hurts and injuries since they were but babes. The man had aided in the birth of Willas and all his siblings, and would no doubt do the same for his own children.

Garlan spoke up from where he'd been sitting hunched over and holding a generous cup of wine and staring into it. Which, frankly Willas would be doing the same if he thought Goddess Quake might be considering taking him as a lover. He could hardly judge his brother for his behavior. Certainly not now. "The lights." His voice was slightly hoarse.

"It's not writhing darkness and merely concerning colors now. So there's that small mercy." Olenna took her own long drink of wine. "This is what I get for ignoring the gods."

Willas rubbed at his temples. "We can only hope Jon Stark is not too damaged."

Garlan made a high-pitched whining sound.

"Gods be good, drink up boy. It's not that terrible. It's become more vital than ever to gain whatever favor is possible to be gained." Olenna's bravado rang somewhat false for the first time in Willas's memories.

He shook his head. "Lomys, you've sent word to the Yelshires to come and collect their fool?"

"I have, though…I hesitate to speak it. Perhaps it would be better he not survive the journey back to his home, my Lord." Lomys offered.

Willas shared a look with his grandmother. "Perhaps, I would know the mood of her Holiness, and how lingering his injuries will be. If he's to be crippled in any way, her Holiness may consider that in part the punishment."

"Not a bad choice." Olenna frowned. "Don't wait and see the same as Doran Martell did or you'll damn us all."

He shot her a look. "My sister's murderer won't live out two years if I have my way. Fuck waiting for vengeance longer than necessary. But we will tread with caution while hosting a Targaryen with dragons and a Goddess of Ruin."

Olenna waved her hand, which was near as good as deferment. But then she didn't defer to anyone, not even those she'd trained for this deadly game.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter." Willas looked up hoping it was someone with good news.

Ser Igon Vyrwel, captain of his guard stepped in. "Ser Marlon Manderly of the Northern delegation would speak with you, my Lord." He bowed his head, his eyes avoiding Willas's leg like just looking upon his Lord's deformity would infect him with it.

"Very well, send him in." Willas bit out, he was in too much pain, and too fearful a mood to ignore his frustration at the moment. He neatly ignored the reproving look from Lomys.

Ser Igon stepped back out, and not a few moments later, Marlon Manderly was stepping in.

Marlon gave a respectful dip of his head. "Lord Tyrell."

"I'd greet you but as you can see I am unable." Willas loathed to admit it, but better this weakness to a minor knight of the Northern party than one who would try to use his weakness against him. Or well, be better able to use it against him.

"Quite alright, my Lord." Marlon straightened, folding his hands in front of himself. "Just wanted to soothe any worries about her Holiness. She's not the sort to take her temper out on anyone who doesn't deserve it. Jon'll have her back down and on an even keel by supper."

Willas barely kept his face from flickering with unease. It burned to admit his failure to allow a man like Randal anywhere near the Goddess, let alone to allow him to speak to her in such a way. "I would offer my sincerest apologies to her Holiness. Are you aware of a manner in which she would prefer such a thing?"

"Just tell her." Marlon sighed. "She's rather straightforward really. Probably why she gets on with us Northerners so well. Doesn't seem to hold grudges much from what I've seen and heard. And Jon'll do fine at getting her back to normal, he's not the one went and pissed her off this time."

Garlan croaked. "He still lives after rousing her temper?"

"Hells, Umber went an' called her a whore witch, 'side from some bruisn', a broke arm and some minor frostbite, he wasn't really harmed. Now I think she's rather fond of him really. Course that one Stormland fucker insulted her Grace and his arm got frozen off. Probably only lived so he could get his head chopped off properly the next morn."

Willas knew his brother and grandmother would have realized the exact same thing. They'd already partially known it, but the Goddess might tolerate some insult to herself, but that did not extend to any who insulted her lover. "How did Lord Umber apologize for his words?"

"I wasn't there, but I heard about it. He uh…offered to hit her with a sword and then dragged her to a tavern to see if he could outdrink her. Seeing as mortal drink doesn't affect her I think she just sorta thought he was amusing?" Marlon winced. "Look, she won't take it too personal."

Willas slowly put that together, a gesture to Jon or Sansa Stark might get them farther than such a thing towards the Goddess herself. Other than a taste for horrifying amounts of sugar, deep love of tea, and an interest in books she was remarkably difficult to please. "Her Grace, Queen Sansa, do you know what offers of gratitude she has made that we might copy to prove our intentions?" It galled him to ask. But well, needs must.

Marlon frowned. "She's different than the old gods. She won't want blood sacrifice or worship. Pretty sure she'd be insulted if you tried. But…if you want her mood to turn more positive…she likes children. Haven't seen it myself but half the kids of Wintertown follow her about apparently. An' everyone knows she's got a soft spot for Prince Rickon and the Lady Lyanna. She helped with that birth at Dragonstone for the servant woman too."

A thing that would explain the baffling report from his cousin Helen who'd taken her Holiness to the town only for the Goddess to ignore all for a rude blind girl. He'd thought it a sign of some boredom, but if it wasn't. If she simply liked children for whatever reason, well. That certainly had options. He had to have a cousin somewhere with a young child he could put in the Goddess's path. See how she responded to it. And if none of his own House were available, there were always servant children.

Really, now that he thought of it, it made a sort of sense. And might reveal quite a bit on how she perceived them all. Her response to insult seeming to be chiding and correcting of behavior rather than blood price. The way she seemed so easily pleased. She thought of them as children. Perhaps not young children, but children all the same. He could use that. "Thank you for your words, Ser Marlon. Truly, we wish to give no insult to Her Holiness, nor your Prince."

"Oh aye, and it would seem we're to work together. Best keep dealing to the point then." Marlon tipped his head.

Willas allowed himself something like a smile. Interesting, only here a day, and already Jon Stark's party were willing to ally with him. Good.

/

Daenerys watched as Tyrion and Varys took their seats in the solar attached to her room. "Your thoughts?"

"A marriage alliance with the North holds a great deal of merit," Tyrion replied from his seat. "Considering the power that Goddess of theirs holds, preventing a war with them should be a chief priority of ours."

Varys folded his hands before him. "If the Prince is sleeping with the Goddess it could make things…messy, however. I would advise caution. We are dealing with forces not seen in the world in many ages."

"I do not believe his Highness would speak of betrothal while visiting another's bed." Missandei put in cautiously.

Jorah Mormont's comforting voice filled the air. His steady presence was one she welcomed back among her entourage. The long years of banishment had weighed on her, even as she would not undo them. But he had returned to her as he had sworn. "I do not know this Northern Prince, but a man's lusts may cloud his judgment."

"If I may, it is not unheard of for the lovers of kings and great lords to be paid, or given to good marriages to remove as much of the dishonor as possible." Varys's soft tones continued. "Some more honorable men of power see it as a responsibility for bedding someone beneath them."

Tyrion scoffed. "Jon Snow, or Stark, isn't fucking that god. He's too honorable. And he certainly wouldn't share a lover with his sister. It's as if none of you knew Ned Stark at all. Starks are stupidly honorable, and stupidly stubborn even when facing their own certain deaths. Besides, you are all rather missing the point. It is a good offer. We can likely take the Vale as well as a consort for your Grace who won't undermine or vie for power from you."

"Olyvar Martell and Willas Tyrell both have made indications they would offer themselves as bridegrooms." Daenerys would have her advisors agree on a course of action before they moved on. Or rather, give them time to speak around it. She frowned, her council was too small, and she would need to add more voices. Certainly Olyvar, she owed him that much after taking his kinslaying family's oaths without consequence for their crimes.

Jorah's face was unhappy, though his calm measure that she had so missed a reassurance in its return. "Now may not be the wisest time to wed. Who you will require to wage war, and who you will require to rule are very different, your Grace."

"I would also advise caution, your Grace," Varys spoke. "Although marriage to a Tyrell or a Martell would serve you poorly. If you are to wed, a Lord of the Stormlands or the Vale may buy you a stronger realm in the end. The North loves their Starks dearly, and Sansa Stark may permit an alliance without marriage if it preserves her brother for her own court."

Tyrion scoffed. "We need that alliance, and we need it now. If we march North to fight dead men, we need an alliance built on something more substantial than a mutual wish to survive."

"The whispers I hear do say the North's army marches further North, and the existence of Wildlings under a Stark banner is compelling." Varys agreed, his head tipped faintly. "But your forces are ill-suited for such a war. You would be sending men of the Reach North, not your Dothraki or Unsullied."

Missandei spoke. "Should not we ask Lord Tyrell's opinion then? As he is to be involved."

"Some good advice at last." Tyrion congratulated Missandei. "You have open council positions, most of them, and they should be filled. Even if those appointments change once peace is achieved. It is an easy way to ensure your allies remain invested in your success."

Varys spoke. "If I may, perhaps if you were to intercede in the matter of her Holiness and the Faith of the Seven?"

"Explain," Daenerys ordered. "House Targaryen has rarely been loved by the Faith."

Varys tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Indeed your Grace. However, your rivals for religious support from the small folk are the mad Queen who blew up the Sept of Baelor along with the High Septon, and a Northern Queen who worships the Old Gods and beds a dark god beside. If there was ever a time to gain the support of the Faith, now would be it."

"An interesting approach." Tyrion agreed, though his eyes narrowed. "How do you propose we do such a thing without getting any septon we invite slaughtered or left like that idiot Yelshire? I hardly think any of us wish to bring divine attention to ourselves, and the Northern god just threatened to slaughter the Seven. Do you see an amicable meeting occurring between such parties?"

Varys hummed. "Prince Jon wishes for an alliance between our two causes, badly. Let him manage their 'god', clearly, he is capable of cooling her temper should things become inflamed. How he manages such a thing hardly matters. What matters is that he can do it. The Tyrells have many fingers in the Citadel and Old Town. A reasonable Septon with the right connections, one who can agree on terms with this 'god', well, such a man with your support could easily be named as the new High Septon. And the support of the Faith is the support of the common man."

"And would give us the time you so advise we take to be cautious in regards to a betrothal to Prince Jon." Daenerys finished for him. She could see the wisdom in it, even if she disliked how much of her conquest had been traveling and then waiting.

Jorah clearly knew her mind on that. "It would not be a long wait. A few days at most to find someone suitable. Highgarden has many septons in and around its lands. And the Tyrells would aid in seeing a man of the Reach named to such a position, your Grace."

"It's risky." Tyrion cautioned. "If a meeting between men of the Faith and this living Goddess goes poorly it could sour the people against you."

Daenerys stared at her advisors, she could see the agreement on their faces. "But it is a thing that must be done. I will not rule long if I let religious fears take root. Already the Faith hold weapons once more in the Crownlands." She let herself consider what she knew of the Faith…there would be many more hours spent in the Tyrell library ahead of her. "In the meantime, is there disagreement that House Tyrell might hold the post of Master of Laws?"