Chapter 117
Daisy ached for her friend as she saw Jon hunched in his seat by the fire where she'd left him. He looked wounded. Which, she supposed he was. But she wasn't the one who could help him. "We're leaving."
Jon didn't move.
She sighed, right, he was in the stage of denial where he was locking out reality. It would be real bad if he came to stupid conclusions. And she knew he would. She had when it was her. So she walked over between him and the fire, dropping into a crouch in front of him, forcing him to look at her. Daisy waited till she saw the glazed look in his eyes fade enough to know he was actually listening. "Jon, your family needs to know." She hesitated at the pain on his face. "You need them to know."
"How am I to tell my-...cousins that my father raped their aunt." He spat the last part.
Daisy laid a hand over his hand that was fisted on his knee. "By being brave, and trusting that just like how you love them, they love you." She silently begged him to listen to her. "And if not that, then every dutiful and honorable bone in your body has to know Sansa needs to know. It has to be from you. And it has to be now. It can't wait." And waiting would be terrible for him.
She knew in her soul, her bones, that the Starks would still love him. That he needed to hear it from them. She could get him drunk and let him talk out his thoughts on it later. But right now he needed his family to still love him. So she didn't let him flinch away from this to spiral by himself. "You're a Stark aren't you?"
His face looked heartbroken at the name 'Stark.' "I-"
"Sansa named you Stark. You were a bastard either way. She named you. By every law around here, that I'm aware of, you are still a Stark." Daisy didn't look away. She wished it was as easy as grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, but she knew horribly intimately just how much that wouldn't help a fucking bit.
Jon closed his eyes. "Ok."
She stood up, pulling his arms and him up with her. "Let's go."
"Now?" His voice croaked.
Daisy nodded. "Now. Seth and Joran won't let even servants into either of our rooms. Marlon and Greengood know to kick their heels in and delay shit if either of us is needed tomorrow as long as possible." She dragged his technically moving self to the open window. This was going to suck. But one short jump outside of Highgarden, then she could attach him to her properly and fly them to Winterfell. "Sorry about this first bit."
"First bit?" Jon shook his head slightly. "Daisy we can't leave? It's the middle of the night."
"Sun just set, it's barely night." Daisy winced. "Sorry about this ahead of time. You can yell at me in about five minutes."
Jon's hands went up, his eyes wide. "Daisy?!"
"Did always say you were kind of a pretty, pretty princess." Daisy would tease him about this once he felt better. Instead, she just scooped him in her arms and launched them out the window before he could complain.
Daisy rubbed Jon's back comfortingly as he stood, half bent over, trying very hard not to heave into the bushes of Winterfell's gods' wood. "Hey, you're getting used to it."
"That is not flying." He wheezed, back spasming as he nearly retched but managed to swallow it back.
She winced, to be fair the only other person she'd taken 'flying,' jumping with style, was Sansa and that'd been more of a nice short hop. Less… hour-long sack of potato at high velocity. "Ready there?"
He held up a hand. Eyes squeezed shut, he took a couple of deep breaths before standing. "Aye."
"The 'aye' thing is kinda adorable." Daisy was really trying to keep the mood up, knew it was pointless, but he wasn't stopping her. So like…there was that. Daisy felt lighter, breathing in the crisp, bitingly cold air of the North. She laid a hand on his shoulder and directed them both to the entrance.
His shoulders tensed. "Daisy…"
"They love you, you love them. We're already here," Daisy replied. Because Jon deserved to be loved. Not to be kidnapped and left tied to a chair while processing that her father had been a monster like she had. Or left to sit in a bunk crying for a mother who'd tried to kill her, and no one around was anything but glad at the death. She shook off the morbid thoughts. But the point stood. He deserved his family. The rest could wait.
Jon was silent as their feet crunched in the snow as they walked to the passageway to the royal wing. He opened the door in the wall without comment. Daisy gave a brief blast of her powers to cover their tracks and then followed him into the tunnel. The quiet was oppressive in the dark as they walked.
Daisy hated everything about this because she understood what her friend had been robbed of. Her eyes were closed as they walked, there was no point in keeping them open in the pitch-blackness of the secret passage, the vibrations guided her enough. And she was feeling for the vibrations of the rest of the family. She breathed out in relief. Rickon was with Bran and Arya was with Sansa. All of them were in the family wing, thank god.
As they opened the door into the ruined bedroom she spoke. "Bran and Rickon are in the room next to Rickon's. Go get them, I'll get Arya and Sansa." And warn them.
He made a pained noise in the back of his throat. And oh god, he hadn't seen Bran or Arya in years. It was fucking unfair as fuck this was what their reunion was going to be.
Daisy grabbed his hand and squeezed it, forcing him to look at her. "You are Jon Stark, and you love them the same today as you did yesterday."
Jon's eyes were faintly blurry, but he gave a stiff nod, and then he was gone down the hall.
She sighed, fuck. This was a disaster. Daisy paused, biting her lip, her eyes on his back. She would wager everything he'd be accepted, fuck the details. But what if? She hated that terrible 'what if.' She closed her eyes. No matter what she was sticking to Jon. Sansa would understand.
Daisy paused at the startled expression on the face of the guard who'd just come around the corner. She forced herself to smile and lift a finger to her lips as she knocked on Sansa's door. Sure enough, the man turned on his heel and moved back to the hallways leading to the wing. She shook her head, well it wasn't a bad thing. It wasn't like anyone would survive trying to touch a hair on any of the Stark's heads.
There was a muffled 'Enter,' and that was clearly an irritated Arya's voice.
She'd have smiled if the whole reason for her being there wasn't miserable. Daisy ducked into the room. "Yo."
"Daisy?" Sansa half asked half stated in quiet surprise.
Arya raised a brow. "Really? Did you at least remember Jon's letter this time?"
"Good to see you too Arya." Daisy felt the dread fading, easily replaced by relief. Her worries were stupid. "No letter, but I did bring you a surprise."
Arya stilled. "Daisy."
"Arya." She could see the realization dawning across Arya's face. Yeah, she hadn't been wrong about the Starks. Daisy smiled faintly, her head tilting to the side. "Should be just behind me."
Arya's eyes widened, and then she was off the chest she'd been sitting on. "He's here?"
Daisy stepped out of the way so that she wasn't between Arya and the door.
It was like light dawning how Arya's face lit up, and then she was gone, straight out the door in a rush.
Daisy smiled as the door hit the wall, Arya had ripped it open so hard. She looked back at Sansa, who had just reached her. "Hey." Her voice was far quieter.
"You brought Jon?" Sansa's hand found hers, her face was concerned.
She nodded, her free hand reaching up, catching the side of Sansa's face. Her thumb ran across Sansa's cheekbone as Daisy leaned her forehead against hers. "Yeah, I brought him back."
Sansa pulled back slightly. "What happened?" There was a furrow in her brow.
Daisy opened her mouth but…she'd been right earlier. It was Jon who needed to tell them. But her wife would not appreciate going into this blind. "He found out who his mother was."
"Was?" Sansa's face went from slightly concerned to just sad. "She's dead then?"
Daisy gave a slight nod. "In childbirth. It's…he needed you guys."
"Thank you." Sansa kissed her cheek softly. Her open hand pressed over Daisy's heart. And then she slipped away for her brother.
Daisy leaned down scooping up Joramun before the puppy could chase after Sansa. "Come on buddy, we're staying out of the way for this one." She scratched at the unhappy wolf's ears. But her shoulders were loose. It was going to be ok.
/
Arya barely registered her feet hitting the ground as she tore down four doors and to Bran's room. She half-skidded through the open door and into the warm light of the chamber. Her eyes immediately found the man who had an arm thrown around Rickon's shoulders as he looked at Bran full of sorrow and affection. Bran's face was not quite as blank as always. It was a miracle that there was actually a ghost of emotion there.
But she had no eyes for Bran. Every fiber of her being was focused on the man. He was so painfully a Stark. The dark hair, painfully familiar grey eyes, and features painfully similar to their father's. Jon. He'd aged, the hard years written across his face, the scar breaking up his features down one side of his face. And it was him. Her brother she'd loved best. The one who had understood her.
The pain of it was excruciating in its sharpness. Seeing him, his face, and knowing that he could see her as well. Arya was frozen, the sudden desire to flee lest he see her and the desire to fling herself into his arms. But she'd remained frozen for that second too long, recognition spread across his face.
"Arya." His tone was breathless, pure joy nearly washing the sorrow from him. Almost.
She let out a sob half trapped in her throat. And then she threw herself into his arms. Burying her nose into the woolen jerkin he was wearing. She couldn't help the tears stinging her eyes as she cried into his shoulder and his warm arms wrapped around her. It was a terrible safeness and rightness.
Her soul felt cracked, salt and lemon in an open wound. She was a child again, hugging the brother she loved best, safe and whole. But she was also the monster soaked in blood that felt nearly nothing. If she was a good person she'd pull back, tell her brother that she wasn't the little girl he loved. Had not been that girl for years. Bloody, bloody years. Arya wasn't a good or honorable person. Instead, her fingers dug into the fabric of his jerkin, her hands fisted to better hang on.
Jon's arms squeezed, refusing to set her back down as he exhaled like a man who'd held his breath too long. "I've missed you." His voice was thick, his beard tickling at her ear.
She squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut. "Missed you too, idiot." She managed to choke out.
His responding laugh was miserable. "Aye, I'm an idiot."
"You smell like roses." Arya desperately wished she wasn't crying, but the pain was too keen. Or maybe it was relief? She didn't know and didn't care.
Jon gently set her feet back on the ground, though his arms barely loosened in the least. "Wish I'd been home for you."
Arya wanted to cling, to refuse to release her hold on Jon. But he was…he was sad. She pulled back, wiping angrily at her eyes with one hand, her other hand refusing to release her grip on him. Her eyes focused on his face. "Well, Sansa's not that bad now."
"Not trying to stab her with spoons then?" Jon's smile was so unbearably affectionate and unbearably sorrowful. It wasn't his usual brooding.
Arya didn't bother feeling bad for her antagonizing of Sansa as children. They'd both been quite cruel to one another. It was the past. Instead, her eyes narrowed. Concern bubbling under the sharpness of seeing Jon again. "No, she'd stab back now." Her teeth showed as she forced herself to smile. "Wouldn't have thought you'd be the politician."
Jon grimaced. "Nor would I."
Her eyes narrowed. "You look like I'm about to disappear?"
"I thought you were dead." His voice cracked.
She stepped back into him, letting herself gently press against his front, his arms wrapping around her again. Her eyes closed softly this time, her nose pressed against his chest. "Less than you were." But not wholly alive either.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I came back."
She looked at him, meeting his eyes that were so similar to her own. Both grey, perhaps not the same shade of it, but grey all the same. The only ones among their family without Tully blue eyes. "Did you?"
"The important bits." He didn't argue all of him was back though.
Arya wondered which of them had come back with less of themselves intact? She was nearly certain it was her who had sacrificed most. But then they were still Starks where it mattered. In their bones. But looking at him the wrongness about him was still there. "You're sad."
"It's not important." Jon looked miserable at the question though.
Sansa's voice was clear from the doorway. "You are a worse liar than I, and I'm terrible at it. Perhaps try that again without the falsehood brother."
"Sansa!" Jon took two strides, taking their sister in his arms.
It was funny, she'd not quite believed even upon hearing it that Sansa loved Jon the same as any of the rest of them. Had known she must, or nearly so, to have legitimized him, to name him Hand, to speak of him with affection. But it was real seeing them embrace, and a small part of her was smug that he did not cry for Sansa as he had for her. But she flicked the thought away, it was stupid.
Sansa pulled away from Jon. "Now, why is your mother's name enough to reduce you to this, and leave Daisy refusing to say anything?"
Jon flinched. "I-"
"It is not his mother's name that upsets him," Bran spoke by the fire. He looked at Jon. "I was to tell you. But Daisy has changed things. I believe the rest is not for me to say." He frowned.
Jon turned to Bran. "You know?"
"That your father is not our father. Yes. I know." Bran's gaze was aware and alert in a way it so rarely was.
But…Arya's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean not our father? He's our brother."
"Ah." Sansa said like that made sense. "Uncle Brandon then?"
Jon gaped, his eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a village idiot.
"What do you mean Uncle Brandon?" Arya demanded. "He's our brother!"
"Of course he is." Sansa waved away. "But I had a great deal of time to think in King's Landing, one of its few redeeming attributes as a prison." She sighed, looking at Jon with something like sorrow. "Father's reluctance to name your mother, even for peace of mind for mother, was always odd. Uncle Brandon certainly had a reputation, one no doubt Lady Dustin would be happy to speak of."
Arya scoffed. "That's ridiculous, father never lied to us."
"To protect our family he would. Or did he not admit to treason to save us?" Sansa's tone was sharp, her eyes a brand on Arya. Her attention returned to Jon. "It doesn't matter, it never mattered. Father called you his. The rest is inconsequential."
Jon actually made a slightly croaky noise. "But-"
"But nothing." Sansa looked behind her into the hall. "Would you stop lurking out there Daisy, and close the door behind you? This had probably best a private conversation."
"Daisy!" Rickon chirped hopping over to the door and hauling their sister's lover into the room. The door closed without anyone touching it. He frowned looking at them all. "I agree with Sansa. I don't know what exactly is happening, but if Jon's our cousin? then what? He's our brother. Right?"
Arya crossed her arms. She didn't like the expression on Daisy's face. It was stunned and pained like Jon's. She was waiting for something. Arya had a suspicion something still wasn't right. Still. "Stark's a Stark."
"Rhaegal took me as rider." Jon finally managed. He swallowed thickly. "My father wasn't Uncle Brandon." Jon was pale and looked fairly sick. "Lyanna Stark was my mother."
Sansa made a pained noise. It took a second for Arya to realize what that meant. Dragon, Lyanna, miserable Jon.
Her mouth opened. "Fuck me."
"What? I don't…I don't understand?" Rickon's head swiveled between them all. Well except for Bran who'd turned his attention to the fire.
Sansa spoke slowly. "If Lyanna was your mother, then Rhaegar was your father." Her eyes were wide. "It is no wonder father lied."
"That's all you can say?" Jon managed to get out. He was looking at Sansa like he'd never seen her before.
Sansa stared at them like they were all idiots. "Robert Baratheon would have Jon killed, possibly all of us as well for hiding him. Rhaenys and Aegon were slaughtered, they had to cover the bodies to hide the mutilation when they placed them before Robert. Years later and Robert still snubbed every man, woman, or child who chose to side with the Targaryens. You think father's friendship would have saved us?"
"You're saying father lied to protect Jon." Arya considered their family's history.
Sansa nodded. "Safe, bastard of a beloved and honorable living father. It's a better life than a royal bastard from a fallen house gotten on a beloved mother."
"By rape." Jon spat out. "Rhaegar took her he…his blood is in my veins."
Arya stepped to him and slapped him flat across the face. "You're my brother. Fuck Rhaegar, your father is my father. He raised you, kept you. Fuck the rest."
Rickon grabbed Jon's arm, a snarl on his face. "We're pack."
"Sansa? Tell him he's being an idiot." Arya refused to look away from Jon's stunned face. She was also not thinking about the fact tears were falling down his cheeks.
Sansa let out a sigh. "You're being an idiot. "
And Jon let out a pained sob and then his arms were crushing her and Rickon to him. Arya grumbled but didn't try to wiggle free. She did crack an eye open to glare at Bran though.
Bran had the good sense for once in his life to say something useful. "You are who you always have been." Which…well it was better than nothing.
