Chapter 104

Daisy leaned against one of the sturdy wooden weapons racks as she watched Jon trying to teach his three new squires how to hold a sword properly and some basic blocks. It was interesting, and also quite clear that Luthor and Mors had had lessons before. Garth on the other hand had clearly had far poorer lessons. It wasn't helping that Garth was clearly the youngest of the three boys. They'd been at it for a while too. She could see they were flagging.

She stepped over, ignoring how every Reach man stiffened at the movement. "Arms up." Daisy stepped in front of Garth.

His eyes widened as he lifted his arms up from where they'd been dragging down.

"Finally going to help then?" Jon shot her a look.

Daisy grinned. "Just seeing what you're working with." She watched poor Garth trying to keep his sword even as he ran through the rote practice of an upper-side slash for the nth time. Turning to Jon she held out her hand. "Toss over your sword."

"Should I be alarmed you're not just telling them to run?" Jon chuckled as he tossed his practice sword. It and all the swords they were using were blunted.

She caught the hilt out of the air and turned to face Garth once more. "Do you know why you need to keep your arms up?"

"So I don't… learn it… wrong, Holiness?" Garth managed between panting breaths.

Daisy shook her head lightly while raising Jon's sword. "You're tired, your arms hurt because fighting is hard. Attack me."

He hesitated, but then he made the move to swing at her. His face screwed up with determination, though his mouth opened to suck in air.

She blocked his attacks, not striking back, but rather shifting to force him to use the strikes Jon had been teaching, over, and over. "Keeping your hands up is the hardest part." She struck out then, not hard, but enough that he was struggling to get his sword up in time to block. "Because you'll be tired." Daisy kept her strikes blatantly telegraphed, slow enough to track easily, and directed towards his head. It forced him to block high. "And if you don't fight through it," She swung and locked their blades as he barely managed to block, "You'll die."

Sweat was streaming down his face as he barely could get air to his lungs fast enough. But he was putting his weight into it since he didn't have the muscle to do much.

"Good." She released the locked swords, stepping in and catching his elbow before he could face plant.

Garth looked up at her. "I…can…keep goin'."

"You also can get some water before you get heat stroke." Daisy smiled, making sure he'd done well. "Come on, water." She gently steered him to a bench with a bucket. Daisy watched him half collapse on the bench before she turned to face the other two squires. And yup, about what she'd expect of cocky tween boys of a higher social status watching their weakest member, and lowest ranked member, get singled out. Luthor to his credit also looked faintly worried for Garth, so not hopeless. "Let's save time, both of you, now."

Daisy did the same as she had with Garth, she forced them to keep their arms up, though not actually hitting them, well not much. It didn't take long for them to be exhausted, also honestly they were more a threat to each other with some poor swings than anything else. "Mors, arms up doesn't mean leave your whole torso open." She whacked him lighting in the ribs to prove the point.

Turning she caught Luthor's attempt to whack her while she was focused on Mors. "Better, legs braced, your footwork is getting sloppy." She hooked his ankle with her own and sent him stumbling forward a few paces. Her eyes narrowed as she swung back, catching Mors' strike. "Move your feet!"

Daisy purposely pressed with a bit more strength, forcing him to move his feet. "You're all young. You won't go winning a contest of strength with anyone for a few years. Don't act like a rock." She hit and nearly struck Luthor's nose. "Faster, in a real fight, your enemy won't go easy because you're tired."

Daisy passed the training sword back to Jon while watching the three squires, utterly wrecked, slumped by the now-empty water bucket. "What do you think, worth a couple hours off?"

"Aye, did you have to run 'em into the ground that hard?" Jon looked at her, though he was clearly amused.

She shrugged. "No, but they won't complain about drills for a while."

"I don't know how your Order haven't all died from how much you make them run." Jon shook his head. "If we'd had you at the Wall you'd have turned us all into the finest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms."

Daisy eyed him. "We both know half the reason I'm scary has nothing to do with how good I am at fighting." She grinned though. "I am getting really good at swords though."

"Is there anything you're actually terrible at if given a half chance to learn it?" Jon asked a certain bemused bafflement to his voice.

She stared at him. "Lots of stuff, like chemistry, not great at languages, horrible at faking accents, I set the oven on fire last time I tried to make something, keeping my mouth shut, I was a terrible student, never tried gardening but I don't see that going well…or sewing? I don't know how anyone does that without going crazy."

"That's not comforting." Jon shook his head. "Well, what do you think about the boys? Horse riding in combat won't be useful to 'em for a while. Not with the snows coming, so that can wait. Jousting and all that would be useless too, till spring comes again."

Daisy fell serious, "You can't take them to war Jon, they're kids." She felt nauseous already at how young the 'men' at arms at Winterfell were.

"They chose it." He met her eyes. "I know their families did, but they could say no. I tried to get them to do it. But they won't. It's their right to choose it if they want."

Her teeth clenched, but she gave a nod. She would do something if he tried to drag tweens to the front lines. But that didn't mean she had to like how close to those front lines they would be getting. "Teach them what they need to be useful behind the front lines." She sighed. "And archery. They'll get overrun in a real fight."

"Thank you." He watched as the three boys were desperately trying to pretend they weren't recovering enough to maybe move. Some survival instincts at last.

Daisy leaned into Jon, nudging him a bit. "You were joking earlier, but running them up and down some stairs every day would probably be a good idea."

"I never want to meet the sadistic bastard who trained you." Jon's considering expression clearly meant his squires would be hoofing it up some stairs in the near future.

Daisy snorted.

/

Willas hated that walking was nearly impossible this morning. He was trapped in the library study, and Garlan and his grandmother were forced to calm the household. Lomys had had to drain his leg the night before. So he was trapped, with nothing useful to be done save reports of the progress of his forces mustering. Reports on the remains of the Tarly lands and forces.

He was writing a letter of instruction for his force securing the Tarly lands when he heard the sound of the wooden shutters for the window briskly opening. His head snapped around, and there was Goddess Quake. "Holiness!" Willas tried to rise only to be gently pressed back down by an invisible force.

"Jesus don't get up." Quake hopped off the ledge, her eyes pointedly flicking to the bandages wrapped around his leg where it had been drained. "You can fight with your maester and your mom over walking or whatever, but don't hurt yourself just to be polite to me."

Willas flushed in shame, his eyes looking down. "That is very kind of you, Holiness."

"Fuck." She slid onto a low settee across from him, folding her legs underneath herself in the weirdest manner. "Look, I'm a soldier, not being a dick about someone being injured is just basic human decency." She clearly saw something on his face. "Coulson lost his arm, got cut off by an axe so his whole body didn't turn to stone." She shrugged. "Took him a couple of years to find a prosthetic arm he liked and to stop complaining about the nub itching. Elenna lost both her arms in a fight, she's still one of the scariest people you'll ever meet in a fight. Mike is…I'm not sure if he's more prosthetic or fleshy parts at this point." She frowned slightly. "And that's just like the lost limbs. Jemma complained that making any of us follow orders so we could heal was like herding cats."

He couldn't lie, that she never looked at him with pity. When she did seem to notice his leg it was more like…well…she was making sure her presence wasn't harming him. "Even you, Holiness?"

"I'm terrible about going easy when I'm hurt." She laughed, her eyes crinkled at the sides. "I'm not sure what horrified Jemma more, the time I slid down her door leaving a trail of blood, or any time she had to look at my arms."

Willas thought of the reports from servants who were assigned to attend to their divine guest. He knew she had quite a few scars. Scars that for a mortal would have been fatal. But, none was mentioned as being on her arms. And of what he'd seen about her wrists there was little damage if any. "Your arms, Holiness?"

"Randal Yellshire was kind of a bitch about it." She shifted, touching her forearm with one palm. "I used to do that to myself on accident just…all the time. Mostly my arms though." Her smile was tight. "They had to make gauntlets for my forearms so I didn't snap my bones when I fought. Kinda like casts, you could fight in."

He stared in horror, reports of the agony that had left Randal near incoherent with pain in his head. Lomys description of the damage. "You fought with those injuries?"

"Well yeah?" Her head tilted slightly before suddenly false humor slid across her face. "The people who need to be stopped don't stop just because you're hurt. And I had the power to do something. What's pain to that?"

And he couldn't know what expression was on his face as he stared at her. Horror perhaps? Awe? Reverence?

"Pain sucks." She turned amused once more. "I think this is a 'do as I say, not as I do' moment. Or proof I can be a raging hypocrite sometimes."

He felt the tension draining from him. Her words may be horrifying, but he understood the point. It wasn't subtle. "Thank you."

She smiled, and it was genuinely kind. "So, hiding from idiots who'll think pain means weakness?"

"Yes…and I don't wish for their pity," Willas admitted, no matter how much he hated to do so. He looked at her. "Why come to see me like this? I doubt you wish only to speak of my infirmary."

Quake gave a nod. "I assume you have a plan to prevent panic from yesterday." Her eyes were sharp. "These aren't my people, and I could make things worse without meaning to."

Willas wondered if this being of unthinkable power would ever cease to amaze him with her capacity for empathy? Her sense of responsibility. He doubted it. "Would you be willing to speak with some men of the Faith?"

"Well, that'll suck." She sighed, leaning back. "Sure."

Willas had seen that expression a thousand times. "Not fond of men of Faith?"

"Grew up with them." She had a softness to her. "As long as you make sure whoever you find isn't a self-important jackass, it should be fine."

He nodded, a darkly amused chuckle in the back of his throat. "So not cut from the same cloth as Yelshire?"

"Pretty much." Quake huffed in amusement. "But I'm sure we both know powerful priests or septons or whatever tend to care less about people and more about the power the higher they go."

Willas grimaced slightly. "You are not wrong. Perhaps if you spoke with a less powerful septon who could speak more honestly with you and ensure any discussion with a more powerful man did not go…irrevocably badly?"

"I assume you have someone in mind?" She wasn't tense or seeming to think of it as anything too terrible of an ask.

He hoped his friend did not kill him for this. "Septon Tristan Flowers, he is a good man. A kind one and not an angry one."

"Then I'll talk to him." She paused, her warm brown eyes seemed to burn where they looked upon him. "And Willas, I know you would have never let what happened in the garden yesterday happen if you had had the faintest clue it was going to be an issue."

Willas could have cried at the absolution, the compassion. If he had been a younger and less practiced man he would have. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I am grateful for it, Holiness."

"Daisy." She rose to her feet. "And I'll see you this evening then."

Willas was struck dumb as she vanished out of the room, surprising his guard on the other side who likely hadn't been aware she was even in the room at all. The weight of it. She'd given him leave to use her name. To not speak her title if he wished. That…even if it was not meant to be used outside this room it was…there was no doubt that he and his had not lost favor. Had rather gained it somehow. He hadn't the faintest idea how. But it felt like despite the pain of his body he could breathe.

Willas forced his face to remain placid, only slightly apologetic as the Queen swept into the study. "Your Grace, I would stand but as you can see," he waved to his leg, "that is rather impossible unless you wish me to fall shortly after."

"Of course, there is no need to harm yourself, my Lord." Daenerys was ethereal as she swept in, her loyal guard just behind her, and Lord Tyrion as well. "You requested to speak with me?"

He dipped his head as respectfully as he could while seated with his leg stretched out and covered lest his injury displeased the Queen to see. Not that he thought a conqueror would care, but it was still polite. "About the Faith of the Seven, I've written and sent men to ensure it's done. But within a week three of the senior members of the Faith should be here."

"Ah, you've worked quickly." Tyrion settled himself in the chair with a grating level of comfort for a guest who was merely tolerated.

Daenerys made the seat she had taken appear like a throne more than a simple wooden seat. She certainly had the presence of royalty in her. "Do you believe her Holiness will agree?"

"Yes." Willas relaxed. "I believe that your course of action will work, your Grace."

Tyrion's eyes sharpened as he steepled his fingers before him.

"You approve then?" Daenerys asked as the servant poured and offered wine.

Willas accepted his own cup of wine after Daenerys. He was interested to note Tyrion did not take the drink. But he'd been asked a question. "I believe it is perhaps the only time gaining control of the Faith will be possible, your Grace."

"You've already done something to begin this scheme then?" Tyrion spoke up. "More than just procuring men of the Faith."

He tipped his head. "Her Holiness stopped to speak with me and agreed to the idea. She has agreed to speak with a minor septon later this evening so that a minor accord can be met before anyone important says something unwise."

"I wouldn't have sought that conversation out." Tyrion chuckled, a knowing expression on his face. "I must say, daring of you to speak of it so soon after yesterday?"

Willas wished he could order the dwarf thrown into a cell beside his sister fucking brother. He ignored the emotion, it was unproductive and unwise. "No, I didn't seek it out." He gestured to his leg. "I'm rather unable to do so and not even I would dare attempt to summon a Goddess to gain favor with my Queen."

"Wise man." Tryion agreed. "Now, who exactly should we be expecting as a possible new High Septon?"

Willas wished he could stab him for daring to order him like that. It was one thing to be given orders from a Queen. Honor to and privilege to it. Not so from a man he hated. However, they had the manner of this plan to discuss. "That is not a certain thing-"

/

Daenerys was exhausted as she stood on the hill outside of Highgarden, her son curled around her. She closed her eyes, one hand laid on Drogon's snout, as she grounded herself. It was…not what she had expected. She hummed as Drogon shifted, a deep rumble in his throat. Turning she opened her eyes looking at what had caught her son's attention. Down the hill was the familiar dark figure of Jon. He was clearly giving her children a wide berth.

She smiled faintly in amusement. Well, his wariness of her children was certainly justified. In fact, she was surprised Daisy wasn't hovering. Her smile grew, oh, he hadn't told his god what he was planning. Dany felt rather like laughing. Turning back to Drogon she spoke. "Go hunt."

Drogon pushed into her, nearly knocking her back, and then pulled back, turning and taking flight. The ground shook faintly, the great gust of wind from his wings like a physical weight. As he climbed into the sky he cried out, his brothers replying from where they'd been feasting on cattle brought for them by the Tyrells.

Dany stood, watching as they curled and swooped in the sky. It was beautiful here, in a golden way. Everything here felt like a warm summer day turned into a physical place. She longed for the harshness of Dragonstone, or even the scorching heat of Essos. It was too pleasant, and she would be glad when the diplomacy needed here was at an end and she could leave.

"Your children are impressive, your Grace." Jon's northern voice came from not far behind her.

She turned back to her possible betrothed. "Does Daisy know that you dared come so close to my children?"

"No, she'll be…unhappy when she finds out." He grimaced. "I shouldn't have asked her to help train my squires."

Dany had no doubt Jon would be sporting some new bruises. "I was surprised she didn't kill that fool who dared insult her so grievously. I'd have fed him to my children if he'd spoken to me in such a manner."

"Destruction doesn't suit her, not really." Jon sighed. "You have said nothing of a betrothal between us since you agreed?"

She shared his frustration. "My advisors insist on time, at least until the religious matter between the Faith of the Seven and Daisy is settled."

"Fair enough." He clearly didn't like the answer but was accepting it nonetheless. "You call her by her name?"

Dany looked back at the glittering walls of Highgarden. "With you, I doubt she cares for a formal manner of address."

He chuckled. "Aye, she really doesn't." Jon offered his arm. "Would you allow me to escort you back to Highgarden?"

She accepted, the longer she spent in Westeros the more she was coming to appreciate his easy honesty. "My advisors have brought up a concern for a possible union between us."

"What is that?" Jon asked, clearly intending to fight whatever that concern was to the bitter end. It was rather amusing.

Dany raised a brow, watching him curiously. "That you're fucking Daisy."

His shoulders slumped and a miserable-sounding groan came from his throat. "Why does everyone insist on thinking that? I would never." Jon's head snapped to her suddenly. "I swear, I have never and would never dishonor you in such a way. Nor would I dishonor my sister."

"I thought so." Dany looked away from his earnest expression. She'd thought it unlikely no matter how things seemed to imply it. "You are aware you touch her quite freely, claimed to be able to calm her rages and speak to her without title?" Her voice was dry as out of the corner of her eye she saw him cringe.

Jon sighed. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?" She found it revealed as much about him as it did Daisy watching them interact.

He frowned, clearly trying to explain it. "We understand each other. And I think…she is very lonely. We're friends, and what everyone else thinks won't change that."

"I wouldn't expect anything could change your mind." Dany found that oddly reassuring. And…she could understand that. "You do know marrying me will separate you from those around you, separate you from your home, your family?"

Jon's too-serious grey eyes that sometimes seemed nearly purple were inescapable as he looked at her. "Aye, but we'd have each other, and you have Missandei, we wouldn't be entirely alone."

"No, we wouldn't be." She felt ever more secure in this decision. Her advisors would come to her perspective.