For: @owenstark Timestamp: Early Morning Location Marker: Winterfell

dacey somehow completely lost track of what the camera was doing. she knew she was laughing in the second picture, and thought they might have been kissing by the fourth, but it was truly anyone's guess. she barely even registered that their little photoshoot was finished, not until she pulled away from the kiss and realised the screen had once again darkened. "those ones were better, i think." she took a moment to straighten her hair, make sure her lipstick was still in place, and reached out to wipe a tiny smudge of it from the corner of his own mouth before standing, holding her hand out for him to take so she could help him stand, too.

stepping out of the booth, dacey saw the second round of pictures had already been printed, picking up the strip and taking them in with a smile before offering it to ulises to look at. "see? much better. we just needed to practice."

her gaze swept around the fair, noting familiar faces, and those that were less familiar. "did we really go to school with this many people?" she mused out loud. "it didn't seem like so many at the time. though i suppose some of the people here are just guests, aren't they?"

Flying all the way from Norway to come here had given him a bit of a let lag too in the past couple of days, though he'd slept well enough the previous night to not feel that weariness right now. In any case, that excuse could give them an out to leave anytime they wanted. He rubbed the small of Dacey's back tenderly. With that touch and just a glance, he could communicate that they were okay to leave whenever she wished. But who knew, perhaps his own social battery would end before hers.

“I'm sure. Come on,” he said with a nod, confirming he really was eager to take some more pictures with his girlfriend. With their first set of pictures safely tucked inside Dacey's wallet, they were back in for another round of photos inside the booth. Ulises wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer. He felt Dacey's kiss on his cheek, which immediately made him grin for the first picture. Ulises allowed himself to be a little sillier and have fun with her, winking at the camera for the second picture. He turned to look at her for the third one, just pausing there. Ulises looked at her with so much warmth and adoration in his eyes, but that look wasn't for the camera, it was just for Dacey. His free hand moved up, slipping to the back of her neck and he leaned in to kiss her. He had no clue at what point the fourth picture was taken.

a small part of dacey hoped that brandon would confirm that he knew exactly where saoirse was. that this was all a big misunderstanding, and he would take her to her sister, and things would slowly begin to return to normal - or as normal as they could be, given everything else that had happened since their arrival. they would return home, and she would hold her sister close and repair the distance that had festered between them over the years. in their childhood, dacey and saoirse had been near inseparable. the younger sister's fostering in the riverlands had put an end to that, and now, she hated herself for not doing more. why hadn't she done more?

she took a shaky breath, an attempt to steady herself, return her voice to its usual cadence, but it had little effect. when she spoke again, her voice cracked, pitching unnaturally. "saoirse's rooms were empty this morning. it seems she is not in the tower." dacey had always been private with her emotions. she bore her grief and worry and melancholy quietly, away from prying eyes, but there was no hiding it now. later, perhaps, she would be embarrassed by herself, her lack of self-control. right now, though, her own shame was the furthest thing from her mind.

brandon's line of questioning was logical. "a hunting party?" she repeated, half a mutter, allowing herself a moment to ponder the thought. but then, surely her departure would have been seen? somebody would have noticed a princess of the north, would they not? "perhaps? i'm not sure. nobody has mentioned it to me, but perhaps lord manderly..." she broke off, for even in her distress, she was sensitive to the fact that this may be a sore subject for brandon.

her dark eyes met his, and she nodded her head a little. in a way, it was comforting to know that saoirse had been seen so recently. there was only a few hours between her disappearance and the search. "i could not remember the last time i saw her," she confessed, diverting her eyes to look at her ruined hands. she felt like she had failed her little sister. saoirse could be anywhere, dead, alive, in trouble, or simply exploring, unaware of the trouble she had caused. dacey didn't know, but she should.

there was another element to her guilt, one perhaps only brandon could understand. their last conversation hung heavily on her mind, though she had kept what they had discussed to herself. she believed that divulging what he had shared with her would only cause her family further heartache. now, she couldn't help but wonder if her two sister's disappearances were linked - and if they were, could she have prevented all of this? was it her fault?

"we don't know if it's connected to alysanne."

♞

the words that seemed to come tumbling from the lips of the princess who stood before him were words that caused his hands to fall on either side, almost as though there was a blow of defeat he were now dealing with at hearing such a thing: because it meant something was terribly wrong. alysanne's matter was on alysanne, and he thought it was supposed to be focused only on her - she who had taken part in such rituals and practices, and now faced the consequences of lore that ran too deep even for her to understand. but the other princess?

there was no reason for the other to be impacted and to have gone missing too, especially considering her hands had not touched such things?

or had they? was there something he was missing? had both sisters been involved in the matter. "...what?" brandon spoke, his voice ringing a sense of numbing shock that had not been heard since he had been told news of his wife's murder. of her butchering. this was not of his own, and yet, he began to feel as though something nefarious was happening. or, was it a guise of something entirely natural using the chaos of all that had happened to their advantage? there was a level of informality that came in his voice, a striking contrast to their last conversation where he had maintained such boundaries - as she had too. "what you mean?"

brandon knew what she meant, and yet, the thought in itself was enough to cause genuine discomfort to come over him. his grey orbs flickered over the various other northern faces in the hall, some of whom seemed as upset and disturbed as the princess, and others who appeared afraid, looking over their shoulder. "there was a hunting party that left this morning." and there were multiple people going missing from kings landing - from the dornish to the north. were they all connected? they could not have all been connected. unless there was something darker going on here. "are we sure she did not leave with them?"

they would need to leave, was his own take on the matter; gods knew he would tell aleksander he thought it best to return north. some would wish to remain to search, and yet, it was clear this was no place for them. what made him the most uneasy was the fact not once did thought of the dragon king cross his mind, not once did he put it down to him. he only thought of the sight of the woods that night, and the sounds of the chanting. he would need to speak to someone.

"i saw her yesterday during the feast." brandon offered words of attempted comfort; the night where the majority of the northern court gathered together in the great hall allocated to them within kings landing, the tensions and fractures obvious in the air. there was a lack of spirit, and of joy; the king was an increasing drunk, it appeared, and the manderlys found themselves stepping further and further into the light of power. "i don't remember how many times…did she not leave before us all?"

if there was one thing dacey knew how to do, it was be polite. manners and kindness came to her with ease - but that did not mean it was not hard to stifle a laugh at the sight of aleksander, donning the ornamented mask she had been allotted, with all it's fine embellishing. doubtless, aleksander would not mind her laughter, but she closed her eyes and pressed her lips together anyway, just for a second, to regain her composure. when she opened them again, though, she was still smiling. "you are far too kind." she meant that genuinely, before her expression turned more mischievous, a rare sight in the princess of winter. "but let's see what you win first, hmm? then we can decide who it should be inflicted upon."

"Apologies, your highness," Aleksander put on a faux solemn tone, hand placed over his heart before the mask was handed to him and he quickly fixed it in place. This ornate piece was heavier than the one he had originally worn. Perhaps this would aid them both in their disguise. A princess wearing a plain mask while a second son wore something ridiculously decorated. He snorted, then. "Don't know how welcomin' the mudmen will be towards symbols from the west. Might be close to the border but they're still northmen through and through." Nonetheless, he was not about to pass up a challenger. Never was, never would be. "I'll win a prize for you, m'lady. To take back to Winterfell." That they were more inviting to such things was no secret, it went unsaid.

she'd always felt solace in the godswood, as though it were the only place in the world where silences did not demand to be filled. and yet, tonight, the quiet moments were charged with something she could not name and could not place, and when brandon spoke, she was grateful to him for not letting the hush linger, even if the tone of his voice and the words he chose caught her off guard.

her arms folded loosely across her chest, her eyes fixed on the carved face of the heart tree, as though its mouth might move, and it might provide her the words she struggled with to respond. "there are some things that are impossible to put down." she murmured. alysanne was one of those things. since brandon had offered her the truth, her feelings surrounding her oldest sister had been complex. the grief was there, but there was anger too, and blame, wrapped up in a neat bow of guilt for feeling such things in the first place. that, though, was too much to put into words, but there was a way in which brandon karstark seemed to look at her, and understand the very shape of her thoughts, that had her wondering if she needed to.

and she so rarely let herself be unguarded with anybody. within winterfell, she was the one who hid things, who shielded others from that which would do them harm, who at times would shy away from revealing her very being, but the more he spoke, the clearer it was that there was little use in hiding anything from him. whatever she tried to keep away from his eyes, he already knew.

"you've a way with words, brandon." her cheeks were flushed with more than the cold, because for a woman who bled kindness so freely, so willingly, having it directed back at her, to hear the things that she had always thought made her weak rephrased as her strength, was something she did not know how to contend with. but hearing it from him, she could almost believe it, even for a moment.

there was a gentleness to his gaze that had not been there before, or if it had, she hadn't noticed it. it was enough to make her breath catch briefly, coming from her in an audible stutter on the winds. "the same goes for you." she spoke with a solemnity, a sincerity that could not be doubted. a quiet confirmation that there was at least one in winterfell who recognised what it was that he had to carry forward with him, and would help lift up that which was too heavy to raise alone. "thank you, lord karstark. your loyalty... that means more than i can say."

and she understood that too much had changed, that brandon would not and could not be the ever-present figure he had been before, but that did not mean that there was not regret in parting. it twisted at her, forcing her to look away, towards the skies where the snow swirled, almost peacefully. "i will. i'll write." whether she would or not remained to be seen. "stay safe. on the roads, in karhold."

and as dacey made to leave, something stopped her, rooting her to the snow-covered ground, because there was still something left unsaid. "you are right," she glanced back over her shoulder, at brandon, standing by the heart's tree. "the north does not lose its own for long." she was speaking not of alysanne, but of him.

♞

the quiet of the godswood wrapped around them like an old cloak, the weirwood’s red leaves trembling gently in the wind. the snow lay thick beneath their boots, the air cold enough to sting the skin, but brandon karstark felt none of it. his gaze was on princess dacey stark, her face solemn as she stood before the heart tree. the faint candlelight of winterfell barely reached this corner of the world, leaving the grove to its shadows and whispers.

he’d seen her unyielding and dedicated —but tonight, there was something softer about her, something vulnerable. it pulled at something deep in his chest.

he broke the silence first, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot. “dacey,” he began, her name heavy on his tongue, “ye’ve carried this weight long enough. too long, if i’m to speak plain.” his northern drawl softened the sharpness of his words, but not their intent. “ye’ve got the look o’ someone fightin’ battles in her own head. alysanne’s gone, aye, but it weren’t your doin’. whatever ghosts haunt ye about it, they’re lyin’ through their teeth.”

he stepped closer, his furs rustling with the movement. the godswood always felt like a place for truths, and he wouldn’t hold back here. not with her. “i know ye think the north depends on ye—the whole of it, like the weight of winter itself rests on yer shoulders. but ye’ve got to know this: the north’s strong ‘cause o’ folk like ye. not ‘cause ye bear it alone, but because ye’ve got the heart to care when most’d shut theirs away.” he sighed, his breath visible in the cold air.

“it’s not just her ye’re mournin’, is it? it’s all of it—the feelin’ o’ losin’ control, losin’ kin. but we’ll find her. aye, we will. the north doesn’t lose its own for long. someone’ll speak, or some sign’ll show itself. the gods don’t let things like this stay hidden forever.”

brandon let his gaze drift to the heart tree for a moment, the carved face watchin’ them with its eternal solemnity. he turned back to her, his expression softer now, though the steel in his voice remained. “ye’re stronger than ye give yerself credit for, dacey. always have been. but if the weight’s too much, lean on those who care for ye. lean on me, if ye need. i’ll not see ye break under it. not you.” he paused, uncertain for a moment. then, more quietly, almost as an afterthought, he added, “ye’ve always had me respect, princess. even when i did not know of yer ways. but now... ye’ve got me loyalty too. not just as lord karstark. as a man who sees the good in ye, even when ye can’t see it yerself.”

he paused slightly, briefly distracted by the way in which the snow seemed to swirl before them. he waved his hand toward it, as if he would leave some lingering spirit on his hand. "i'll be returning back to karhold soon enough, though know if ya need anythin' from me you can send a raven." it felt like a goodbye of sorts; he had accepted that aleksander would be the present karstark within the court of the north. he knew not when he would see dacey stark again.

whilst there was undoubtedly perks to being a king, it was also a thankless job. the weight of the kingdom rested on his shoulders, and it was that of which he spoke now. a new queen, rather than a wife. a new hand, rather than the loss of a friend so treasured. to dacey, it was telling, and worrying, all in one. the north needed owen the king, but she cared for owen the man.

"i understand there's more than... well, you to think about, but i don't think anybody would blame you for taking your time to start your search for a queen." perhaps they would. dacey certainly wouldn't think less of him, but then, she held in heart more compassion than she knew what to do with. "at least until the right woman makes herself known." it might be easier said than done, but too much change at once could be dangerous, and the starks household had shifted so much, still knitting around the gaps left by those they'd lost.

the mention of alys had her shifting uncomfortably, both feet finding the ground once more as she released her grip on her legs. she knew more than she should, but owen's words only reinforced her decision to keep that to herself, to relieve him of at least one burden. and so, she said nothing, pointedly avoiding the conversation of the oldest stark sister. neither did she address brandon - for she could not find it in her to condemn him, even if he did hate owen.

"a manderly could be a good idea." her gaze fell contemplatively on the fire. "there will doubtless be people vying for that position. not necessarily for the right reasons. not for the north." she liked to believe the best in people, but it would be foolish to deny that there were people who were out for themselves, grasping for power where they could. "if you think the manderlys share in your ambitions for the kingdom, and can support you when you are right and speak plain when they think you're wrong, then you could do worse than making one of them your hand."

When his wife died he receive the news his sister his was missing as well. Owen didn't take the time to process either. They sat on shelves in his mind and he would approach them later. When life allowed him to dust off the annals of his memory and feel it all. Brandon. Alys. Rosa. Only one remained and he imagined he would never see the living one again.

Much of it was his own fault. He should have put people in different positions, he should have listened to people when they said it was time for him to slow down. Owen Stark didn't like to listen to others. At the beginning of the conflict with the Umbers he say the cobbled road, where it stopped and how much they had to do, how far they had to go. He saw the improvements of Moat Cailin and the increased taxes from new villages and trade proved him right. Again. Northmen would be more than survivors.

In a generation they would speak about their southron wolf and all he sacrificed for the Kingdom that was thrust upon him after the mess of the dancing Dragons. Out of the flames came a kingdom came a kingdom reborn. His kingdom.

"I don't look forward to looking for a new queen." Owen murmured as he raised the hand carved mug of Honeywine Whisky from the Reach. A gift from their High Commander for the rate he provided in lumber for his building in the newly named golden sea. Another venture possible because of his drive.

"Alys could be dead. Brandon hates me as well. I need a new Hand. Perhaps a Manderly. Though, I've rather bad news for him. They will thank me in the long run."

♛ → THE NORTH presents DACEY STARK, the PRINCESS of WINTERFELL. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-NINE year old CIS WOMAN who was COMPASSIONATE & GENTLE before they saw the first of the flames, is now CAUTIOUS & INSECURE after seeing the last. they’re often associated with slim fingers weaving together shimmering silver fabric, plush velvets concealed by heavy furs, cheeks flushed pink from winter’s bite. ( genevieve gaunt )

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tws: mentions of premature birth, illness, anxiety/mental health and death

history.

dawn

the fourth child of house stark, dacey sybelle stark was born two moons too early and far too small. as a baby, she barely cried, but was prone to illness, particularly of the lungs.

it was not expected that she would be long for this world. infants with such weak constitution rarely do, but against the odds dacey grew. it would not be the first time she would be underestimated.

sickly babe grew into a quiet, pensive child. more stark children came after her, and dacey loved them all with her whole heart, even as she differed from the rest in temperment. she was not built to be a fierce and fearless daughter of the north, but something else entirely, though for a long time, nobody was quite sure what that something would be. she was intelligent, sensitive and kind, but possessed nothing that would point to future greatness.

the delicacy of her infant years followed her into childhood. she can scarcely remember a time from when she was young where she wasn't sheltered to protect her fragile health, wracked with coughs that echoed through her entire body. the majority of her childhood was spent in the companionship of the two siblings who immediately preceded her, cyrene and jon.

noon

as she approached adolescence, a question lingered over what to do with dacey stark. while her siblings began to be fostered or trained for their duties as a stark, dacey remained in winterfell, sheltered and protected in order to maintain her health. there was brief talk of betrothing her to jaehaerys targaryen, but that would come to nothing as both parties decided it was a poor match.

with the dance of the dragons breaking out during her teenage years, her opportunity to explore the world outside of the north was further stripped from her.

however, as she grew older, dacey's health began to improve. she will never be of strong constitution, often picking up small illnesses that seem to hit her a little harder than others, but no longer was she plagued by a constant barrage of ill health.

with her newfound strength, dacey began to explore more of the winterfell that was denied to her as a child, and learned to love it there. she filled her days with discovering the castle's secrets, and made herself happy amongst the walls of her home.

without the illnesses that plagued her childhood and with the dance of the dragons ending as she reached adulthood, dacey was hit with a newfound confidence. she would never be comfortable being the centre of attention, but she began to find joy in conversation, and could talk for hours with whoever's company she found herself in. there's a sort of vulnerable charm to dacey, a sincerity that makes her likable.

dusk

the tragedies that have befallen house stark weighed heavily on dacey. loss brought about a great change in her. even in her younger, sickly years, she was always contented, but grief knocked that out of her. she became serious, always worried about things she had little control over - in particular, the lives of her family.

with that change came withdrawal. dacey has been a shadow of a woman, secluding herself from life in winterfell and becoming a ghost of what she was.

with her grief came anxiety and nightmares. she has not dealt with sorrow well. the lack of sleep made its mark, painting dark shadows around her eyes and hollowing her cheeks. her mental health declined sharply, though she spoke to nobody about it. the last thing dacey wants is to be a burden when so many of the people she cares for are suffering just as much as she.

midnight

the only thing that could pull dacey from her grief was her selflessness. as more troubles plagued her family, hiding away from the world was no longer a viable option for her.

there is no bigger supporter of king owen stark. dacey is unshakeably loyal to her eldest brother, and determined to be of use to the north, and to him. with all the problems faced by the starks, she does so by quietly picking up the duties of those no longer here to fulfill them, without being asked, without making a fuss, first to advise when jon stark was killed, then to help heal, as alysanne once did.

she's more present than she has ever been in her life, and feels a bit overwhelmed by it all. nevertheless, this is very much her era of coming into her own, finding herself, and figuring out her place in life.

personality.

basics

she's an incredibly anxious person. This mainly manifests in her movements, particularly her hands. they are constantly moving, even when she is at ease, her her fingers twisting around each other and her nails scratching at the skin. if she isn't able to weave for a while or is particularly stressed, her fingers become painful and red as her skin becomes raw.

to cope with her anxiety when she can't sleep at night and give herself something to do with her hands, dacey's favourite hobby is weaving, and she's rather good at it. she enjoys the consistent movements and finds it soothing, often making gifts of her creations to those she loves. her family likely have clothes, blankets, tapestries, and rugs made by her.

when her mental health is poor, she withdraws into solitude. however, on good days, dacey is an incredibly chatty person, and particularly loves talking to people very different from herself. she's thoughtful and sweet, and a very kind and considerate friend.

she's something of a pacifist. she cannot stand violence for any reason but the most necessary, and even then, she does not like it. she will always prefer mercy and justice, and believes a path of vengeance to be harmful and destructive for all involved. she accepts that there is evil in the world, and some people just don't deserve kindness, but she knows her morals and believes by seeking revenge, everyone loses.

it's taken her longer than most to find her passion and purpose, but she's incredibly dedicated and hardworking. when she does something, it will be completed, and to a high standard. she's a perfectionist at heart, because she's deeply worried of something going wrong and it being her fault, and doesn't want to cause any trouble or harm.

she's gentle, more lapdog than direwolf, but protective of those she loves in her own quiet, comforting way.

where dacey excels is exercises of the mind. she’s rational and logical, a little too tender-hearted to be called calculated, but honeyed words dripping from her lips are leaden with promises unspoken, convincing when they need to be, flattering when such is required, and so utterly sincere. her innate kindness means that this gift is not used to its full extent, to cause harm to any, but it's there regardless.

her sense of humour is very subtle, but there. she usually cracks jokes at her own expense, but does enjoy gently teasing those she's close to.

rumours

whilst not as sickly as she once was, dacey does possess a weak immune system and is prone to picking up any illnesses that sweep through the north, particularly in the winter, causing her to withdraw for a little while to recover. since birth, there's been rumours that she's on her deathbed, and every time she takes ill, they seem to resurface.

with a quieter sort of personality, it would certainly be easy to see dacey as someone to manipulate with ease. whilst she would certainly be easy to take advantage of for personal gain, however, manipulating her is far harder than it may appear. she knows her morals and is not easily swayed from them - just because she isn't loud about her opinions doesn't mean she doesn't hold them strongly.

goals

she accepts that it's unlikely to happen in her lifetime, but dacey's biggest dream is peace for the kingdoms. she cannot stand the idea of anybody hurting, whether she knows them or not, and craves a world where nobody has to suffer as she and her family have.

most of all, she wants her family to thrive and the north to prosper. she firmly believes in owen's vision and supports every sibling in all that they do and is proud of their accomplishments.

fears

more than anything dacey fears further personal loss. too much tragedy has befallen house stark, and she's already struggling to stay afloat with it all.

she fears becoming a burden. she wants to help, rather than be help, and hates people worrying for her.

other.

her direwolf is small for its kind, the runt of its litter. she's a pale silvery-grey colour with a small white patch on her chest. dacey named her rose, and temperament wise, she's very quiet, but very observant of her surroundings.

she favours darker colours, but never black. greys, deep blues, purples, burgundy and forest greens are common colours in her attire, her jewellery simple and unobtrusive.

dacey is always cold, but it doesn't seem to bother her. her skin is cool to the touch, especially her hands. having never been too far from winterfell, she's unaccustomed to warm weather, and in the few times she has experienced it, she doesn't cope very well.

she's a fairly tolerant person, but keeps to the old gods herself. her relationship with her faith is one she holds intensely privately, but it is very dear to her, and she takes great comfort in being in the wierwoods, or indeed any forest. if you asked her to imagine a place of peace, it would be amongst the trees.

dacey's gaze lingered on brandon, as though she were afraid if she looked away, he might fall into the snow once more. his self-deprecating humour might have worked to ease her worries in any other moment, but not then - not when she had seen the way he had swayed so precariously, not when she could still hear the strain in his voice as he tried to brush off what had just happened. it was as though she were looking at him through fresh eyes. she had not been blind to the fact he had been touched by grief and stress, but it was only now she noted just how heavy that burden seemed to be for him.

"it is care freely given," her voice remained as quiet as it had been, but with a resoluteness that was not common in dacey. she did not know if her persistence would be accepted, or if he would bristle at it. it was no small thing for a man who was the very picture of strength and stability to be caught in a moment of weakness. "even the strongest of trees can be toppled by a storm."

he seemed to be returning to himself, and that was a relief, and yet, she still moved to crouch slightly before him, until her gaze was level with his. she did not need to bend far. even seated, the height of him was obvious. "you're far from an old nan. there's life in you yet, lord karstark." the faintest semblance of a smile crossed her face, something that was both reassuring and that brushed away any lingering traces of her concern.

it was not the true north, but the mention of alysanne that had her finally pulling her gaze from him, eyes turning downward to look at the snow on the ground. it was rare to hear her name anymore, as though their lives had knitted over the space she had left, but she could still see where the threads didn't quite fit with the rest of the tapestry. she felt it - her absence, and what brandon had told her that she had done, even if she had still spoken it to nobody else.

"it's too much for any to carry alone. just one of those things would be enough." she hesitated, before perching on the spare space on the mounting block beside him. "if you do feel yourself faltering again, though, try and warn me first? i'm not sure my reflexes will be quick enough a second time. the first was pure luck." there was enough levity to her voice to make it sound like a joke, but under it all, she had no desire to see brandon karstark fall.

♞

brandon karstark felt the world tilt beneath him, a momentary dizziness that threatened to sweep his legs out from under him like the harsh winds of the wolfswood. his large, rough hand gripped the rough stone of the wall as though it might anchor him against the sudden betrayal of his body. the cold bit at his fingers through his gloves, but the sharp sting was grounding. he wasn’t sure what had come over him—a rush of blood, the cold, or the weight of all the whispers they’d spoken of. he’d been a fortress his whole life, and now, his knees trembled like a green boy’s after his first fight.

trembled the way they had the night his knees submitted to the snow, and he watched as the skies danced green above him.

then he felt her hand—small compared to his, steady and firm despite its lightness. dacey stark had moved to his side, her touch grounding him in a way his pride refused to acknowledge. her other hand hovered close, ready to catch him should he falter further. he cast her a sidelong glance, his lips opening into a faint, self-deprecating sigh. “princess, ye shouldn’t be wasting your care on me,” he rumbled, knowing that there would be nothing he could do to stop her. regardless of how brash he may have sounded, not in this moment. the warmth of her concern made him pause; for the briefest of moments.

“you’ve a steady hand, princess,” he murmured, his gruff voice softening just a touch. “might’ve toppled like a blasted pine without you.”

“bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rasping, an edge of frustration creeping into his tone. he swayed again, and his hand pressed harder against the wall, fingers curling against the icy stone for purchase. there was a nervous, dismissive chuckle that came from his lips, as though he were trying to move passed what had just occurred. “damned frailed body, i’ve stood through worse and now i'm out 'ere shakin' like an old nan in robes.”

his hand remained braced on his knee, the other gripping the edge of the block as though he still didn’t trust himself to stay upright. he chuckled then, a rough, bark-like laugh that seemed more to dismiss his embarrassment than to find true humor. “what a sight, eh? a karstark felled by nothin’ more than a spin of the head. gods be good.” still, the worry in her eyes lingered, and something about her steady presence made him relent. "maybe it’s all this talk of the true north," he admitted, his voice heavy. "or alysanne. what she was dabblin’ in… it’s the kind o’ thing that turns men’s stomachs and sets their thoughts adrift."

it wasn't until adam released her hand that dacey realised that, in his grasp, her fingers had been still for the first time in weeks. they itched to move again, to twist around each other in the way that had become both a nervous habit and a source of comfort, but she managed to hold off, dropping her hands into her lap and leaving them there, stone still and untwitching.

"and a good deal longer again, i hope," she had intended the words as a sort of strange, macabre joke, but her tone did not reflect that. instead of the wry humour it was meant to carry, her voice cracked in the middle of speaking. it wasn't a joke - as a family, they had tasted more than enough loss. it clung to them like the scent of smoke, filling their lungs until they choked on it. dacey wasn't sure she could take any more of it. "do not ask me not to worry for you. you'd have better luck asking the snow to stop falling." it wasn't that she didn't trust in adam's abilities. it was quite the opposite. with skill came renown, and renown made a man into a target.

"i'm grateful for that." she was. truly, she was. you did not need to posses greensight to notice that amongst the stark kin, dacey was the quieter of the bunch, not as stubborn, not as strong, but she loved just as fiercely, and that was what had her looking into adam's face with a smile painted on to her own. "when all this is over, i'll make good use of those ears of yours. for now, you don't need to carry my burdens. though if you have any of your own, i'll happily help to shoulder them for you."

For a moment they stayed like that, brother and sister silently holding hands, sharing a moment of the grief that had fallen upon the sons and daughters of Winterfell like the long night itself. Adam didn't think himself good with words, so he could at least offer Dacey his presence. He was the lone wolf of House Stark, but he was also a man who slowly attempted to change some of his solitary ways to be there for his siblings, those who mattered the most to him.

“Thank you,” he replied in a quiet tone, squeezing Dacey's hand a little tighter before he let go. The Commander of the Kingsguard sighed. The news of the latest victory of his commanded legion had been echoed through the whole of the North. The fires could be made out in the distance. The ash that snowed upon the region a testament to all that burned and died that day. “Do not fret about me, sister. I made a vow to Owen. To Jon... I intend to live long enough to keep it,” the prince added, his voice gravelly and with an undeniable undercurrent of determination. Adam Stark possessed the skill to cut through battle and survive, yes, but he also had that strange, newfound strength in him that the consumption of the xiangliao substance granted him. It was a feeling that came from a place of arrogance, but he did feel invincible. His men had been turned invincible. They were called berserkers now for a reason.

“What's on your mind, Dacey?” he asked, clear eyes of ice finding his sister's warm gaze. Quiet and private as she could be at times, Adam wanted to ensure she didn't feel unheard or unseen through this harsh time. The prince pulled his chair closer, angling it so he faced his little sister more directly. “If you ever wished to speak about it...” he trailed off. “Or speak about anything, really, I'm glad to lend my ear. Always”.

Stephanie Garber, Once Upon a Broken Heart

Patricia Smith, from Teahouse of the Almighty; “Building Nicole’s Mama”

[Text ID: “and she is an empty vessel waiting to be filled. / And she is waiting. / And she / is / waiting. / And she waits.”]