Chapter 107

Willas was tired, and grateful his leg was at least allowing him to limp short distances today. The swelling was also down enough he could wear proper britches again. He wished he could say he'd learned his lesson, but well, he really hadn't. Still, he was more able to go over letters and ensure the Reach was mustering its forces with as much speed as possible. Their Queen would not be content to wait much longer, and the journey North would take time, even by ship. He frowned, and the loss of the Tarly forces was an issue.

There was a knock on the door. "My Lord." A baffled looking expression on his secretary's face. "Prince Olyvar Martell to see you, my Lord."

"Well, let him in." Willas straightened his spine, setting his quill aside as he sat at his desk.

And in swanned Olyvar Martell in his orange and yellow silks. "Lord Tyrell, I was hoping to catch you this morning."

He set the letter he'd been writing on top of the proposed trade deal with the North he'd been finishing the night before. "What brings you to my solar, your Highness?"

"Certainly not that trade deal you're trying to hide." Olyvar grinned, it was shark like. He waved a hand. "Prince Jon is rather too free with his words near his squires."

Willas's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. While true that the Prince was not a political animal, he wasn't stupid. He doubted that was the true source of the man's information. "Did he now?"

"He's a Northerner." Olyvar shrugged as he dropped onto the settee to one side of the solar, stretching upon it as if this was home. "But none of that, it would seem we are to be allies, you and I."

Willas leaned back in his seat. "Indeed."

"Please, don't go acting like the bad blood between our Houses is something you give two fucks about. I found some very interesting records when I took over Sunspear. You gave Oberyn his horse? Magnanimous of you considering your leg."

He gave the other man a considering look, of the players in Dorne this man had never been essential or really worth much notice at all. A fact he rather cursed now. "It was a joust, his hit was good. My leg becoming tangled was not his fault. And I found him rather charming." He chuckled at the sudden interest on the other man's face. "Not like that, but he was good company. Fabulous taste in wine."

"Interesting," Olyvar replied.

Willas considered the offer being made. "You haven't made your distaste for me and mine subtle."

"Please, you roses grow like weeds. And you're always plotting. It's exhausting to keep up with, not to mention your father was an intolerable man." Olyvar held up his hand. "I am sorry for your loss, but he left a poor taste in the mouths of everyone he had dealings with."

Willas gave a slight, though unhappy, nod. "You delight in being contrary."

"Of course, far more interesting than being ingratiatingly pleasant." Olyvar's expression turned more serious. "But I don't waste the time of those I'm speaking to. If we fight each other we'll tear ourselves apart and leave room for other, less loyal players to get their claws in or further into our Queen's court."

Willas actually gave pause at that. "An alliance then. It would never work, our two kingdoms have never trusted nor liked one another enough for such a thing to be sustainable in any meaningful way."

"They would if we bound our two Houses." Olyvar's face was deadly serious.

His eyes widened. "Marriage."

"More than one." Olyvar gestured between them. "We are both unwed. I marry one of you Tyrells, you marry a Martell. We force our people to bind our two kingdoms together. We both want the same thing. Power and Influence with the Dragon Queen, the Lannisters ripped to pieces, to survive the Dead, and our Houses to prosper."

Willas's mind raced with the implications of the alliance being proposed. The benefits of having a staunch ally. "You'd be willing to take a Tyrell from one of the branch families to wife?"

"If you are willing to take my sister as wife," Olyvar replied, his dark eyes utterly serious. "I also have a companion with me, Ser Perros Blackmont, heir to the Blackmont of the line of the Vulture Kings. Such a powerful, and loyal bannerman being married to the same house as their Prince would certainly secure certain things. And I have more than enough cousins of varying degree no doubt you have a suitible heir of the Reach to wed. Such a thing could be very useful to you, yes?"

He folded his hands on top of his desk. "To bond our two Houses but also our kingdoms…that is not a thing to be lightly done." Willas hummed, his House alone would be limited, and depending on nepotism from Jon Stark would be idiotic. The man was too honorable to be ensnared like that. Well, not easily or lightly. But the two most powerful kingdoms of the south uniting could create a power block that would make controlling what was to come not just possible, but nearly assured. The offer was tempting. Dangerous, however.

"I don't suggest it lightly." Olyvar didn't blink. "Daenerys Targaryen will remake our world if we survive."

Willas breathed out slowly. "IF, I agree to this alliance, we would have to be utterly united in our goals."

"We would be, but I think we already are. We've backed the same Queen, we hate the same people, and we both want security for our people. That is more than many alliances are built on."

The thing was, he wasn't wrong. Willas waved to his secretary. "Wine, for my guest and I."

/

Sansa glanced to where Brienne was standing stiffly in the corner. "Enjoy the celebration last night, Ser?"

It was wonderful to watch the poor, clearly hungover woman, still manage to practically glow at the title 'Ser', her cheeks flushing with pleasure. "Yes, your Grace."

"And Ser Brienne, congratulations." Sansa held back the praise she could give. It wouldn't even be platitudes, simply the truth that Brienne was the embodiment of every idea of knighthood there was. But Brienne wouldn't want that.

Brienne managed to straighten even further. "Thank you, your Grace."

She looked back to her work, a soft smile on her lips. It was peaceful, even Joramun was passed out by the fire. These quiet times were a balm. She paused. "I assume my sister's windows have been secured?"

"Of course, your Grace," Brienne reported with all the promptness and dependability that so characterized her service.

Sansa hummed in acknowledgment. "Good, you should alert the guard to expect more attempts at stealing my sister." It was going to be absolute chaos once Arya realized exactly how many men wanted her as wife. Sansa wouldn't interfere, Arya could choose herself a husband or simply distract the court if she didn't want one yet. Well, Sansa would interfere if anyone tried to force Arya into something. But she doubted it would come to that. Besides, Arya's expression as it dawned on her that she was the most eligible and sought-after bride in the kingdom would be delightful. Sansa was giving it a week for her to realize.

She pressed her seal into the wax at the bottom of a document giving limited judicial power to a mayor for Wintertown. Frankly, she hadn't the time to handle every minor matter of law. Pulling out a near identical stack of documents for each of the towns on Tully lands. For now, Lord Blackwood was managing those lands, but she needed him undistracted by every petitioner and crime.

The issue of the vast tracks of land she was directly in control of was somewhat pressing. She could only put off awarding it to various individuals for so long. And it was an exhausting amount of work. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Daisy pointed out that she'd known about this snowballing issue for months and delegation was common sense. She really ought to just give the Karhold to Arya and be done with that particular headache. But…Sansa cringed at the thought of Arya's reaction to getting handed that much bureaucratic drudgery.

Sansa was going to dig into her legal code if they lived. It was a mess and clearly needed years to be turned into something actually just. But now wasn't the time for that, no matter how much it irked her. Affixing her signature and seal on already written documents was…boring.

The solid rap of Loras's knuckles on the door, followed by the door opening, announced the arrival of Lord Manderly and broke up the silence.

Sansa straightened, glad for the interruption. "Lord Manderly, please." She waived for the chair by the fire, rising to her feet and stepping around her desk.

"Your Grace." He bowed deeply, before rising and taking the offered seat. The wood creaked ever so slightly from his weight.

Sansa shot a glare at Joramun as the pup snarled at her Master of Ships. "My apologies, Joramun seems to be trying to live up to his namesake."

"I can see you've already got him in hand." Wyman Manderly had a faint spark of amusement to him and he pulled out the documents she'd sent to him earlier that morn. "But this proposal, your Grace…"

Sansa raised a brow, as she scooped up Joramun before he could decide to try and bite Manderly despite knowing he was not permitted to. She took a seat opposite the man, her hands easily holding her wolf pup, one hand lazily scratching at Joramun's ears. "You believe it's impossible?"

"Something akin to this hasn't been attempted since the Dance of the Dragons, and it caused that orgy of death," Manderly spoke carefully. "To change the laws of succession that is…I can only say that it is folly, your Grace."

She hummed, he had a point. "Despite how it would further secure your own House's position you would oppose our laws changing from male primogeniture to a system of straight agnotic primogeniture then?"

"I would." He looked her in the eye even as he denied her. "It would be folly, the North might accept such a thing, but the Vale and Riverlands would bleed before they allowed it."

Sansa couldn't say she hadn't expected his answer. "A better goal for our stability than a reality then?"

"Aye, I can see why you would wish such a thing, but not even you could see this law established and followed. Not without your lover making those that would oppose such a thing tremble in terror, your Grace."

"Do you agree that our current inheritance laws must be changed, my Lord?" She asked, he was an idiot if he didn't. Her fingers idly played with one of Joramun's paws. They were comically large on him at the moment. He'd grow into them soon enough.

Manderly's expression was sharp. "They won't thank you for changing them."

"They will if we start small." Sansa gestured to the documents in his hand. "That is a future goal for say, five years from now."

He folded his hands over his stomach. "And because of my son's lack of male issue you know I will support the incremental changes needed to achieve that. Which change first then, your Grace?"

"Sons, then daughters, then brothers, uncles, and so on. If a Lord has only daughters, or if a Lord's sons have died his daughter will inherit." Sansa held her Lord's gaze. "Already that is done, though it is not…entirely legal. Inheritance law is needlessly complex as it is. Lord Glover's summary of both tradition, and law, and when those laws are enforced on the matter is a headache at best. So we lay it out. It is close enough to what already is that none should oppose it. Not on the eve of a war that will kill a great many sons." Sansa scoffed. "As it is sometimes brothers inherit, sometimes daughters. A great deal depends on how the Lord has established the line, and how willing to follow his wishes his heirs and men are."

Manderly clearly considered her words. "It will not be popular...but as you say, as sons die in droves in the war to come the wisdom of it should bare out. I must ask, why this issue now, your Grace?"

"Because those sons are about to die." Sansa let her exasperation show faintly. "I've legitimized more bastards since the crown was placed on my head than most kings do in their lifetimes. I've arranged matrilineal marriage for your daughter, and she will hardly be the last woman I will have to do such a thing for. Likely Meera Reed as well, my sister certainly. The wars have killed many, and they will kill thousands more yet."

He seemed to pause. "Have you considered you are approaching the issue wrong, your Grace?"

"I had. I assume you have a suggestion?" Sansa leaned back in her seat, Joramun licking at her fingers.

Manderly gave a nod. "Write a legal code for matrilineal marriage, not as a thing to be individually approved at your discretion but as a real legal possibility. Entrench it as an option. If you have five Lords of decently powerful Houses use it, you'll have won. By the end of the wars to come, that number will increase. You're not wrong, a great many Houses will have no male heirs of their main line if they have any at all. Do that, and in thirty years changing our kingdom to the Dornish model of inheritance will be possible, your Grace."

"Do you believe Lord Glover would support it?" Sansa mulled the idea over, it would be less opposed certainly…a promising idea as it was merely an extension of what she was already doing.

He looked decidedly dangerous for a moment. "Lord Glover can be persuaded."

"Without giving him cause to be displeased?" Sansa challenged, she'd be forced to remind Manderly he served her at her pleasure if he thought otherwise.

Manderly tipped his head to her. "Not like that your Grace. Rather, he has a daughter near your cousin's age in the Vale."

Which...that was interesting as an idea. Not one she'd have considered truly, but any displeasure at such a thing could easily be directed at Lord Baelish. "Lord Glover is of a masterly House, no matter how high they've risen."

"He's your Master of Laws, blood of the First Men, and your cousin is half mad. A strong wife, but not too strong would not be too bitter an action." Manderly pointed out. "Of course if you were to put such a scheme to Lord Baelish…"

"It would be good as done." Sansa nodded. She considered Lord Manderly, he was her chief and most powerful supporter within the North. It also made him dangerous. "And would ensure my cousin doesn't marry into a House with naval interests that could challenge yours."

He laughed, eyes sharp. "You don't miss much. But I will admit it's a benefit, your Grace."

"You realize of course the position that places me in?" Sansa carefully soothed Joramun whose chest had begun to vibrate with a growl that was not yet audible.

Manderly was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving her. "I do, of course I will never be your Hand, nor will any lands you award go to my House. I assume you intend to strengthen some of my less friendly neighbors to prevent my block from gaining too much power, your Grace?"

"You're not wrong I will never name you my Hand, nor award you more land." She considered him, but there were ways to weaken his power block by forming rival ones, and gently encouraging some of his allies to become…less entwined with him. And of the various power blocks within her realm, the Manderly-headed one was the least worrying. It was more the power the man was accumulating as Master of Ships in a time where food and dragonglass came through his port, and his port alone could easily become…concerning. "It's unfortunate we have no members of our respective Houses to wed."

"A tragedy indeed." He looked on her warmly, no doubt hearing the implication she did not mean to support his rivals directly. At least not for now. "Perhaps in the next generation, your Grace?"

Sansa hummed. "Perhaps, but then that is a matter for some years from now. I would not be opposed to considering the possibility, however, my Lord."

Sansa was fairly drained by the time she reached her bedchamber. She audibly groaned. "Please say whatever it is, is not pressing?"

"The perfect Queen not so perfect? I'm shocked and appalled." Arya drawled from where she was leaning against one wall, Nymeria sitting beside her, near blocking half the room.

Sansa waved off Loras. She'd be fine with her sister although she paused as Joramun took off at a sprint for Nymeria snarling. Sansa's spine straightened, Joramun knew the pack, he wasn't hostile toward them.

"Fuck!" A very familiar voice yelped as Daisy rolled out from where she'd apparently been behind Nymeria.

Arya groaned. "You're pathetic."

"Daisy!?" Sansa blinked. "What are you doing here? I thought…why are you sneaking?"

Daisy held Joramun's eyes before holding out her hand to be sniffed.

Everyone, Sansa included winced, he'd bitten legitimately everyone he'd met so far save herself, and her siblings. But, the wolf pup gave Daisy a considering sniff…and then licked her fingers.

Sansa stared in muted confusion as her demon of a direwolf was in Daisy's arms and being enthusiastically snuggled within twenty seconds.

"I think you just got ignored," Arya smirked as she pushed off from where she'd been leaning against the wall toward Sansa. "How does it feel to be mortal?"

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Avoiding losing a finger." Her face softened. "And who is this handsome baby?" Her voice was a coo.

"His name is Joramun, Tormund, and Meera thought it'd be fitting to bring him back." Sansa walked to her wife.

Daisy looked up at her, her face a bright smile. "He's adorable." She caught the side of Sansa's face with one hand, Joramun still tucked against her in her other arm and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Hi, I was hiding from a slight religious crisis I might have caused and realized if I was already hiding I could be here. But uh…just didn't mention I was leaving to anyone? Then ran into Arya first and she thought surprising you would be fun."

"Please don't debase my sister in front of me." Arya's nose was wrinkled. "My good deed of the day is done, I have a Wildling or two to stab."

Sansa paused, looking over at her sister. "Please don't murder all of them."

"No promises." Arya waived as she vanished out of the room, Nymeria on her heels.

She sighed, looking back at her wife. "You're ridiculous. And don't think I didn't hear the religious crisis bit."

"Missed you." Daisy smiled kissing her again.

And, Sansa felt the weight of her day melting off. She ignored the sound of Loras closing the door and fleeing. Her eyes closed, she pressed her forehead against Daisy's. "You only just left, but I've missed you as well."

Daisy swooped down, setting Joramun on the floor before straightening, her hands falling to Sansa's waist. "How long did the council meeting go?" Her tone was gently teasing.

"Four hours with Lord Manderly discussing marital legal code." Sansa let out a distinctly unladylike sound and let her head fall onto Daisy's shoulder, her arms wrapping around Daisy's shoulders as well.

Daisy hummed. "Marriage laws?"

"I can't change inheritance laws outright, not without paying a steep cost. But I can allow a man to marry into a House to secure a line that is reduced to only daughters." Sansa couldn't have described the relief of not having to watch her every word. Of knowing that Daisy would understand.

And sure enough, Daisy made a sound of understanding. "So, men suck, but you're working around it."

"Essentially." Sansa gave herself a few more seconds before pulling back. "How long can you stay?"

Daisy raised one hand and made a wiggling motion. "Few hours." She glanced pointedly at where Joramun was whining.

Sansa laughed pulling back. "Yes, go ahead. I'm shocked he's not trying to bite you."

"I'm just awesome." Daisy dropped onto the rug before the fire, automatically grabbing the braided rope toy Rickon had made for Joramun.

She smiled fondly, shaking her head. Well, she'd lost her wife's complete focus. It warmed her seeing the genuine delight on Daisy's face at the very existence of the pup.

Sansa stepped to one of her chests and unlaced her gown, and girdle before removing them and replacing them with a warm dressing gown and joining Daisy by the fire. "You do know I have several perfectly good chairs?"

"Puppy." Daisy grinned, leaning into Sansa where she'd sat beside her. "And I don't know, I think sitting on the floor is just our thing at this point."

Sansa laughed. "You're not wrong." And well, just this sounded like a dream way of spending her evening. She laid her head on Daisy's shoulder.