CHAPTER TEN
[ white harbor ]
SHE HAD ONLY EVER VISITED WHITE HARBOR ONCE. It was long ago, and she'd had her father at her side. He was going to visit each keep and holdfast in the North, and she'd begged for weeks to accompany him. It was a tedious task, but all she had ever wanted was to get out of Winterfell for a while and see the rest of Westeros.
White Harbor had seemed so far away and exotic then. A faraway land perched on the edge of the sea. Now, her childhood dreams seemed foolish. Especially as they sailed into the Harbor, where Frey ships were docked. "Two of Frey's grandsons married Lord Manderly's granddaughters," she said aloud, to no one in particular. "An action solely for the purpose of having his son returned to him, I hope."
Wylis Manderly, held by the Lannisters and Freys since the massacre at The Twins. Heir to White Harbor, and Lord Wyman's only surviving son. Her dear friend, Wendel, perished that night.
"Then let us hope Lord Wylis is home already," Arianne said from her side. "It will be much easier to sway Lord Wyman to our side and have him release Lady Dacey if he is."
"Indeed. The Lannisters will have nothing left to hold over them, and Lord Wyman is like to back a northerner." The North Remembers, or so the others had told her. Let us see how well they remember what the Freys have done.
They were stopped the moment their ship docked, and escorted inside to see Lord Wyman. The hall was crowded with Manderlys and crawling with Freys. Too many for her liking, but just the right amount for them to not be outnumbered, if it came to a fight.
They were brought before the lord of White Harbor, and she knew instantly that he recognized her as the little girl who visited his home all those years ago. "You stand before Lord Wyman of House Manderly," a man beside him began, "Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander, and Knight of the Order of the Green Hand."
Visenya looked to Arianne, who was awaiting her leave to begin. When she nodded, her friend spoke. "I present Visenya of House Targaryen, Second of Her Name, Rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm."
"I have come to you today, Lord Manderly," Visenya began, without allowing anyone else to speak, "because you hold my subject, Lady Dacey Mormont. I ask you to release her."
"Or what?" He retorted. "You have brought no army with you, and you are no Aegon the Conqueror, my lady."
Fire burned in her blood of dragons. "I need not possess dragons to burn White Harbor to the ground." Silence followed her statement, the words ringing true throughout the hall. "But, I do not wish for there to be any ill will between us," she told Lord Manderly, who seemed to relax at this reassurance. "I was raised as a Stark of Winterfell, and House Manderly has always been a friend to House Stark."
"But you're not a Stark, though, are you?" One of the Frey boys— Rhaegar Frey, who presumed to be worthy of her brother's name— sneered. "You're nothing, girl. Just a traitor playing at being queen."
"A Frey speaking of treason," she laughed, flashing him a wicked smile, "isn't that ironic. I would ask Robb Stark, but. . ." She trailed off, leaving the but you and your lot betrayed him, and he was murdered, silent. "As for my parentage, I admit, there is fault there. My true father was mad, yes, but it is Ned Stark who raised me. Here, in the North, among true northmen. I am one of you as much as I am a Targaryen, if not more so."
Lord Wyman nodded, his expression one of resignation. "For the respect I had for Ned Stark, I will grant your request. Lady Mormont will be released into your care, and you and your party will have chambers for the night. Come morning, you are to be gone."
"Thank you, my lord," she said, and flashed Rhaegar Frey a cocky smirk before she and her party turned and exited the hall.
"Did you see Lord Wylis?" Arianne muttered under her breath to Visenya as they left.
"I did not," she replied, her voice quiet. "Perhaps that is why he still houses those gutter rats."
"Or he truly is loyal to the Lannisters."
"Or that." Their voices slowly grew louder the farther they got away from the hall and the closer they got to their ship. "But I refuse to believe it. A Northman will never kneel to a southerner before one of their own."
"If he believes they truly hold the power, he might—"
"Northerners are stubborn as mules," Visenya interrupted, "they would not kneel unless they are protecting their own."
"Well, we got what we came for, at least," Arianne said, "he is releasing Lady Mormont."
"I would feel a lot better if, when we left, we had won White Harbor to our side."
"Small victories are important as well, Your Grace."
"Aye, they are." Except this victory would need not have been won, had I never sent Dacey here in the first place.
IT WAS LATE IN THE NIGHT WHEN SHE WAS CALLED UPON. A guard came to her chambers well after the sun had set, his voice little more than a whisper. He bid her to come with him, that Lord Wyman wished to speak with her. She sensed no ill will, but took her sword and knife anyway. If she was attacked and injured in the night, Oberyn would never let her hear the end of it.
She was taken through the castle to Lord Wyman's solar, where he sat waiting for her at his table. He rose when she entered, inclining his head out of respect. "You wished to speak with me, my lord?"
"Aye," he replied, nodding. "I hope your chambers are satisfactory."
"They are," she assured him, brows furrowing as confusion grew in her. "Why have you called me here, my lord?"
Lord Wyman's face grew solemn, and his voice lowered. "The North remembers, Queen Visenya," he told her, "The North remembers, and this mummer's farce is almost done. My son is coming home."
An act, she thought, it was all an act, just as I had expected. "This pleases me greatly, my lord. It would be a great tragedy to see such a great northern house truly bow to a Lannister king. What do you mean to do now?"
"I must keep pretending for a while longer. I have been invited to a wedding." He turned sad, then, as he told her, "I am sorry, for I am certain you do not yet know of this, after your time sailing here. Ramsay Bolton is being wed. To Sansa Stark."
Bolton's bastard. The things she had heard about that man. . . "Sansa is alive?"
"Aye. She escaped the capital after Joffrey's murder, and turned up at Winterfell not long after."
"He will have a better claim on Winterfell with her as his wife." She was seething. Blood boiling at the prospect of her sweet sister being sold off to a monster such as Ramsay Bolton. "Winterfell is a Stark's seat, not a Bolton's. They cannot do this."
"All the Starks are gone, and Sansa is soon to be a Bolton."
"That is not true." She thought of her Jon, up at Castle Black. "Jon Snow is on the Wall, a man of the Night's Watch."
"A bastard."
"But Ned Stark's son all the same." Her voice was hard, as it always was when someone dared to dismiss Jon.
"Even so, I do not mean to bend my knee to Jon Snow."
"Who, then?" She asked. "Tommen? A boy, a puppet king. Stannis? He has no chance in this war any longer. He has lost more men than he can spare."
"No, neither of them. I'm done with kings." Lord Wyman lowered himself down onto one knee, and nodded up at her. "I swear myself and my house to you, Your Grace. Once I have returned from the wedding, I will declare for you. I swear my swords, my life, and my loyalty to you, the rightful queen, and a lady of the North."
"I thank you, my lord," she replied, breathing a sigh of relief, "the support of another northern house means more to me than you can ever know."
"The North remembers, Your Grace," he told her then. "The North remembers, and it will rise for you."
THEY WAITED ON THE DOCK AT SUNRISE. Lord Wyman promised he would release Dacey the moment the sun rose over the horizon, and so, they waited. As promised, the doors opened the moment the sun was in the sky.
A group of men led Dacey out onto the dock, and Visenya was relieved at the sight of her. She was a little filthy, hair stringy and face covered in dirt, but no worse for wear. Her friend beamed at the sight of her, and broke out into a run.
She caught Dacey in her arms and held her close despite the stench from her lack of a bath. "Are you all right?" She asked. "Did they hurt you? Did they feed you enough?"
"I'm all right, Ase— Visenya," she answered, "I'm fine."
"I am so deeply sorry, Dacey. If I had never sent you here, this would never have happened."
Dacey pulled out of her embrace then, brows knitted together. "It was a great honour to represent my queen, and to speak on her behalf. I knew the risk, and I went anyway, because I am sworn to you. Until my last day."
Tears began to pool in her eyes as she looked upon the woman who had been such a loyal friend. "I am so happy you are here, Dacey." She took Dacey into another tight embrace, holding one of her last ties to her life as a Stark close.
"I thought you died at the wedding," Dacey muttered into her hair. "My heart ached for moons over it."
"As did mine," she told her friend, "I thought everyone was gone. You, Smalljon, Galbart."
"I watched Wendel die." Dacey's voice quivered ever so slightly. "It was horrible."
"I stepped out, just for a minute, and when I came back, I saw Robb, Talisa, my mother. . . I see it each time I close my eyes."
"We have to avenge them," Dacey said, "there must be justice for those we've lost. The Boltons and the Freys must pay."
"They will." Visenya pulled back to look into Dacey's eyes. Her hands rested on either side of Dacey's head, and her eyes were hard and truthful. "Every Bolton and every Frey will pay for what they have done, you have my word. I will give our fallen their justice."
"And I will be by your side when you do." Dacey stepped back and turned them both to the side so she could sling her arm over Visenya's shoulders, leading her toward the ship. "Now, we have a lot of catching up to do. Tell me everything."