From Almost The Moment She Was Born, Dacey Had Been A Little Frailer Than Most. As A Child, She Had Been

nasir spoke, and dacey fell silent, though her gaze remained fixed upon his face. she was listening, taking everything he said to heart, regarding his words seriously and thoughtfully. there was a wisdom to his words, she thought, one that she should have expected, but made it clear in her mind that owen's decision to name the elder manderly as his next hand had been a correct one. and it were not that she had doubted that, as she had never doubted her brother's vision, but to say there was not uncertainty within her about the change in the north would be untrue. yet, things could not be how they were. they would all need to look to the future, in order to ensure the north was all it could be.

but his guidance did not soothe her, he spoke of hate, and that made her nervous. fearful they would hate her simply upon the sight of her, anxious that something she could do would incite that hatred further. "and so around it goes," she murmured, more to herself than to nasir. she possessed such little capacity for hate in her own heart, and she could not understand those who held it close to them. was it not exhausting? how was it that they were not so weighted down by it that they found it in them to hate even those they purported to hold as allies?

but the same could be said of the north, she supposed, though instead of hating the west or the reach, it seemed to her that they would rather hate one another, as though the war had taught them nothing. she thought of her sister, the princess saoirse, who had clung to her own grudges so hard she left claw marks behind before she had vanished.

"i would not mind if you did." despite her personal issues with nasir manderly, he had spoken to her plainly and granted her insight and truth, and that she could appreciate. "i am grateful for your council, lord manderly. we are stronger when we know what to expect." and she said we, because in his capacity as the new hand of the king, whatever either of them did would reflect on the north.

the north had seen much grief, and house stark had not been untouched by it, but out of everything, even the loss of her own kin, perhaps it was manal manderly's death that felt the most tragic, the most horrifying. her instincts were to offer words of condolences, but what words could there be that could be enough? there wasn't any, and so though her expression softened, her tension and uneasiness giving way to something gentler.

"maybe she thought i would not have accepted?" in truth, there was a high likelihood that she would not have. it had taken her own losses to shake her out of her solitude, an isolation born in her childhood but maintained only by dacey herself. "i did not know your sister well." everything she knew about manal came from what others had told her - but she was yet to find anybody with an unkind word to say about who she was as a person, and how she treated others. "but i think i would have liked her very much."

"i don't think babies like very much," for the first time since the conversation began, a smile found its way to her lips. "and this particular baby is a prince of the west. he will want for nothing." that, at least, she was certain of. "something symbolic would be most suitable, i think. if you would like, i would not mind taking the responsibility for putting something together." it was a small gesture, but it was only in the small gestures that dacey every felt like she could be useful.

✯

"i think, knowing there is not much difference between westermen and reachmen is important." there were beats of awkward silence that seemed to sit comfortably between the conversation, not within it but between it; nasir of house manderly had never been one to attempt to fill in the cracks within a conversation, no doubt having once been the quietest of a trio of the generation that no longer existed. she had insisted he did not need to, but nasir would not have the princess of the north walk into a situation she did not know of.

the king, the truth north, and the manderly was what it had seemed to become; the realities of adulthood pulling apart strings of friendship and all but severing them rather than letting them hang loose was all but apparent. "the men of the west do in sunlight what the men in the reach do in the shadows." still, his quiet nature had turned to a certain sense of stubborn sternness that came in his beliefs; and what he could offer the kingdom of the north. "it is easy to assume the men of the west hate us. and perhaps they do. but as do the men of the reach, who are their greatest allies. then, they too hate one another."

the brothers of house manderly had swung both ways; one latching further onto the north, as though he wished to shake it into waking itself up and realising how much better it could be. the other turning away from it, all too apparent of the feelings of isolation and otherness that the stirrings had caused against their own. "i do not ever intend to inform your highness of how to behave, or how to be. only that, your kindness and your virtue is an exception within such lands."

there was no denying the fact that much bloodshed stained the pure snow of the north, but the violence targeted toward the manderlys and their people was due to a different reason - not just treason, but a feeling of being a scapegoat. the wealthy other. "manal found a great love for the reach." his late sister, the oldest kidnapped by the false king and who perished from malnutrition. he knew it the moment he looked upon her frame, her face; the death that had already sunk within her face.

"she spoke of wishing to extend you an invitation to join her, at least once. i am not sure why she never got around to it." perhaps because manal manderly had been a northern socialite, effortlessly involved in all matters - a striking difference to the princess. and suddenly, nasir found himself realising he was able to speak of his sister without feeling something blocking his throat.

now nasir wished to shake them all in their ignorance, force them to look upon what he could and what he would do; never did he think that brandon karstark would be an obstacle, a barrier to such a reality. even when he had detached himself from court, when he had pulled himself away, there continued a sense of faith, loyalty and trust in him that nasir did not have as hand. it caused a large hole in nasir's side, an apparent one any could use to target.

"…ah. i've forgotten that detail. what do babies like?"

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter featured in Letters to Merline, 1919-1922

it was a role dacey found herself falling into easily, that of the confidant, the person you could share your burdens with and trust that it would not go further. she did not voice further disagreement. believe we will survive, maisie said, and it was all dacey could do not to murmur that she wished she could in response. too much had happened, and too much had been lost, for her to believe herself untouchable, but she would not stop maisie thinking it. sometimes, you needed something to hold on to, and if that was survival, it was not for dacey to squash that from her.

"i think it is a wise choice. to believe in the best." if nothing else, it meant that maisie would not live with the crushing melancholy of grief, anxiety and despair, and dacey was glad that she might be spared that. "it means you have a vision for what the best might be. a vision is where it all starts, isn't it?" owen had vision, and for the most part, dacey trusted in it, even though she did not know of any of the north who did not pay the price for it. she hoped that whatever needed be paid for maisie's, it would not be such a steep sacrifice. "you may speak to me anytime you wish, lady mormont. when we are home." in the latter sentence, the meaning was clear - be careful in this place, where even the walls might have ears.

if her self esteem was higher, dacey might have accepted the compliment with more grace than she did. as it was, it flustered her, turning cheeks pink and causing her to shake her head in a tiny gesture, almost too small to notice. "i suppose so," she said, though she had little else to add to the discussion. to her, allowing others to decide her direction was done because the alternative was choosing for herself, and that was too monumental a thing to do.

"that would be lovely." the forest was where she felt closest to the gods, under the shade of the weirwood. she had visited the weirwood of casterly rock, a twisted, ugly thing that filled a cave, and felt suffocated. she longed once more for the godwood of winterfell, nothing above her but the canopy of leaves and the open sky.

"sometimes i think there is no difference," she admitted. "even men who do bad things often have the noblest of reasons. and men who do good can easily become the villain to another."

Maisie quickly realized what Dacey meant and a swelling weight rose in her body. Some women really couldn't stay alive. The memories of grief for each of them, even those she wasn't close to. It wasn't guilt, but perhaps it was the realization that at some point she could be one of them, a victim who didn't even have a chance to fight "But we'd better believe that we'll survive everything that can happen" Mormont's voice was as thin as a thread "If I think I might die one day for being part of all this..." She sighs and puts her hands together, controlling the urge to snap her fingers "I think I'd be held hostage by that feeling and I won't do what I need to do" She bites her lip and shakes her head, pushing it all away "Sorry for venting, I don't usually have anyone to share these things with" She cracks a small smile, trying to show that everything was fine.

"Yes, strong. You have to be strong to keep who you are kind of in the middle of these things, not just anyone could handle such a load, Princess" This was Maisie's thought, it might go against the natural river of people's minds, but allowing important issues in your life to be chosen by others, with the greater good in mind, was as honorable as fighting against the current "I don't think so, you have to be brave to do that and live your life so well, just look at history, some people have caused wars because they wouldn't accept having their lives decided by others? It's not a good example, but I think you get the idea" She frowns, realizing that he may have messed up between words.

"The forest is like a safe home, isn't it? Where we can be without barriers. Maybe, when you get married, you can be lucky enough to live near the forest and have simple little moments, take your children to the riverside" A smile settled on her face, a dreamy look on her face. Maisie knew it was a dream far removed from the reality they both had. For some, being a Lady and especially a Princess, with countless perks and freedoms, but everything had a price to pay over the years.

"I wish I could tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys, but when I try, I get nowhere" She bit her lip, a little afraid to express her true thoughts on the matter. Maisie didn't even think she was good. "Yes, they're good for us, I wish Westeros was full of men like them, maybe all these situations wouldn't exist"

dacey had been spending more time in the godswood of late, seeking to clear her mind, looking for guidance and insight that did not come. it was amongst the trees where she felt most comfortable these days, but there was only so much that could do for her. and yet, still she came, searching for answers for questions she had not quite figured out how to ask.

oftentimes, when she visited, she would find herself here alone. today, that was not so. the figures of her elder brother and sister loomed before her, sharing a moment of tenderness. she was glad of that - her own reunion with cyrene had been a frosty one, and that was enough to both weigh on her conscience and have her hesitating, dithering between the trees as she pondered whether to interrupt, if her presence would be welcomed in the moment they shared. she was about to turn and return to the keep, leaving them to it, when the sound of her footsteps had adam turning, and she could no longer pretend she had never been there at all.

instead of turning, dacey drew a little closer, leather-gloved hands clasping together before her, coming to a stop a few meters away from them. near, but still apart, still retaining some distance. "sorry," her voice was sheepish when she spoke, the smile on her face a tentative one. "i didn't mean to intrude on you." she'd caught none of their conversation, but before she could speak, another of their kin made their presence known, and her tension relaxed a little. "we're all of a similar mind today, i think."

@owenstark

It was true, they had never been quite close. As children, Cyrene had chased the thrill while Adam had remained in his lonesome. She had run away from boredom, while Adam had welcomed the security of it.

The war had come, the fire had come, and Cyrene had grown into a woman. A woman who stood alone, walls of ice grown between those she had held close and those she had not. The dragons had danced and Adam had grown into a man. A good man. A protector.

With every letter she penned, with every one she received, every visit he payed her at the Twins, she'd felt a gnawing sort of guilt take hold in her chest. She had never been fair to him. It was just like time, allowing her to realize how wrong she had been about her very own brother.

Her fingers tightened around his. Warmth meeting warmth among familiar cold. "I told no one," she admitted, a glimmer of mischief dancing within her eyes. "Well, other than all those who traveled with me." Adam's eyes were searching hers, roving over her every expression, her demeanor. "And my husband." She made a point out of telling him. This had been agreed upon. Even if in her very depth, she despised having to gain permission for anything from anyone.

"In a way, I suppose, I am glad you did not answer my letter," she spoke, a slow smile spreading on her lips. "It would not have reached me in time. And gods know what you might have written in those letters. I can imagine Lord Frey being quite affronted."

dacey knew that she should mourn the death of her cousin - but she also knew she had little more grief to give. watching her family dwindle one by one had all but made sure of that. whilst she did not have enough space in her heart to grieve for merindah blackwood, she could offer some comfort to maggie, or at least, try to. she wasn't sure how much of that she could offer, if her cousin felt the same as she did ; that they were united in grief, even if they were not mourning the same loss.

but maggie's voice was tired, in a way dacey could not remember hearing it be before, and the tidings from raventree hall were predictably not ones of joy and cheer. "how old are your youngest brothers, now?" the query was gentle. she knew the boys were both still young, and could not honestly say when the best age to understand death and loss could possibly be. in an ideal world, not until your hair turned grey, but that was not the way of the world they lived in. "what of lucius? and you?" she spoke of her younger brothers, but said little of herself.

she swallowed thickly, giving a quick nod of her head. it was easier to manage how she felt about her sisters if she did not think about it, did not talk about it. maggie did not need to know that every moment spent alone, they were the only thing on her mind. that even when she dreamed, it was of her sisters riding through the gates of winterfell, wolves heads instead of their own, the same as jon.

"i almost didn't want to come," she confessed, dropping her voice to a whisper, as though if anybody heard her, she would be cast out. "i still think perhaps i shouldn't have. though i am glad it means i can spend some time with you."

her cousins hand giving hers a reassuring squeeze made maggie feel a sense of compassion she hadn't encountered in some time. she knew the stark's, as well, were dealing with immense losses, not just with the war that ravaged over heir lands, but with the disappearance of two siblings, the former death of another, it surely put perspective onto her own circumstances. regardless, she knew there was not comparing of grief, only enduring. and she hoped that they might be a comfortable presence to one another while they simply endured.

maggie returned the squeeze of the others hand, a ghost of a smile coming upon her lips as she rose to her normal height now. her hands came to clasp in front of her now, and it seemed for a moment there wasn't quite anything to say - where would one start? normally the lady of raventree hall could maintain conversation well, but she felt at a loss of words, and had for some time.

a nod, she responded with, wisps of scarlet tresses falling over her face, and a hand rose to push them back as she tried to surmise just had to answer such a thing. "thank you, cousin." she responded, voice weary and tired, a show of her true feelings for the first time she their arrival to the west. "we are all doing as well as expected, i think." which wasn't all that well, in reality. "benadict seems to have immersed himself into the duties of his new position." another blow, but maggie understood it, almost relieved by it, strangely. "hugo and little sam seem to struggle with comprehending it." they were young, and not young. she realized she hadn't had opportunity to really discuss such things with them, but figured their mother had taken that upon herself.

"and i am sorry for you all, as well." maggie swallowed, taking a deep inhale. "my ear is always yours should you need it." there was a small beat of silence as she looked about the hall. "this place does not make dealing with such circumstances much easier, do they?"

the frustration that had gripped her was uncharacteristic, but when amir spoke again, it was replaced with something far more familiar. a self-consciousness, a feeling that she had said something wrong, spoken out of turn, that in her own moment of anxiety and discontent, she had caused discontent in turn. and usually, despite her worries, dacey's feelings were unfounded, a result of a mind that worked too much and concerned itself with overanalysing her every action.

but there was no mistaking that this time, there was no unfounded fear. if it were not obvious in his words, it was in his tone, in the set of his jaw. a frown appeared on her face, and she racked her mind back over her previous words, trying to find the place where she had in her irritation provoked insult.

"i see." perhaps it was her own tone of voice, the expression on her face indicating more hostility than intended.

should she broach the tension that seemed to have rooted between them? dacey was unused to conflicts, unsure how best to navigate the waters she found herself in. she took a breath, a sharp, audible intake, and nodded her head. "if that is what my brother decides, then it is not for me to question it." not to question it, but to despair of it in private, away from any eyes that would look for dissent within the ranks of house stark, and dacey would not be the one to give in to it.

but despite it all, the prospect of war and death and battle a growing, pressing worry that was beginning to hurt her head, she could not shake the feeling that she had done something wrong. if owen was to move forward with skagos, there was nothing she could do about it, but if she had made things difficult between herself and house manderly, perhaps that was something she could atone for. theirs was a house that was important to the north, and dissent was not an option.

"my lord," she began, her tone shifting to one much more uncertain. "i apologise if i have given offence. i can assure you that was not my intention."

❅

there was an uncharacteristic, strenuous pause in the moments of hollowed silence between the princess of winter and the man that was ultimately a subject of her house, and her king. something in the air that shifted seemed to have caught onto his attention, and whilst the second son of manderly had never been one to overthink and strain himself over possibilities, the recent nights had been a different case all together.

perhaps he would have not noticed such a change, or such strain; and yet, his increasing sense of voluntary isolation in associating with other northerners only caused him to notice. perhaps add too much emphasis, wrap it up in something that it were not necessarily. "the king is the only one who can answer such a question, your highness." amir responded, and as much as he attempted to ensure his voice remained civil, there was a deadpan to it.

"judging by our conversation, he was eager to see it happen. if i had to guess, then yes. you would be correct."

the question was something he would have considered the answer as being obvious; the isle of skagos had struck out against the king, and the king held every moral and legal reason to get the situation under control. his expression changed ever so slightly in the face of her question, her somewhat bristled manner of passing the words across: it was rare to hear dacey stark speak up, and now when she did, it felt as though he were being patronised. as though he needed to explain the obvious.

and perhaps amir would have felt more sympathetic, felt more of an ability to see the situation as it was and walk it off. but there was a flare of anger that seemed to stir within his gut as he looked at the princess, a sense of anger that did not usually come forth so suddenly. and yet, it were as though his vision of the woman seemed to blur.

i've no wish to see another stark go to the grave before their time. before their time? as though everyone else's time had come for them? as though manal's time had come for her? the fuck was this absent ghost of a princess talking about? what made her think he wanted to hear of her concerns about her own family? the starks get a crown and forget, whilst the north remembers.

"yes, they will." amir responded, his tone bluntly formal. what he did not add, was how everyone else would be putting their necks on the line too. because as much as amir manderly wished he could get the words that burned off his chest, he knew his place. knew what he could, and could not do.

events like this were never comfortable to dacey, but it was clear to her that lord templeton was taking care to push her, the way some did when they sought to engage her in conversation. those who did would only find her clamming up all the more. percival's approach was better, she thought, carried with it the implication that this was a man who was thoughtful, and thoughtful people tended to be kind.

she did not like the giant's head. it send a shiver down her spine, but she kept that to herself. "the giant was slain by my brother, the prince adam. i am sure he can tell you a more insightful tale of it than i ever could." whilst that particular trophy was not her favourite, the tapestries were.

"i think i am more qualified to speak on the tapestries, if that is all right." none of her own work hung publicly, dacey's own creations reserved for the more private parts of winterfell, where her family dwelled, but she had given many hours to looking at those that hung here in pursuit of her own mastery of the craft. she knew them well. "most speak of the accomplishments of our ancestors. the ones who became kings, at least. the earliest tales are of the fight against the night's king at the wall, then of other lords who once called themselves kings, before the starks held all the north." it was not lost on dacey - the way all their stories came from times of war.

The Knight of Ninestars bowed his head, politely appreciative that the Northern princess was a gracious host as well as her brother. Of course, there was also a sense of pride subtly simmering in him when Dacey Stark admitted to already knowing who he was. He could only hope she knew of him for the carefully constructed reputation he'd sought to build as a valiant knight, an honorable lord, and a loyal Commander to his queen. And not for the coincidental misfortunes that ended a betrothal here and there in his past.

“I'm pleased to formally meet you, your highness,” he added with a softer smile, a subtler gesture with a more subdued sort of charm. There was an air of reservation in the Stark princess, he'd noticed, he did not wish to overstep or cause discomfort. She reminded him of other women he'd known in the past, gentler presences to engage with more care.

“We do, very much so. Thank you,” he responded, glancing around the great hall. He could see Ginevra, and how she thrived in environments like this one. Both of the Templeton siblings were very much in their element, comfortable, in social gatherings. “I admit I also find myself feeling very intrigued. I noticed the giant's head displayed in King Owen's throne room, and some of the tapestries that hang here,” Percival mentioned, “Yours is a land of rich stories. If you don't mind, could you feed my curious mind and tell me a little about them?”.

the idea that owen and the targaryen king would make nice with one enough was enough to bring a small laugh to dacey's lips. "i very much doubt it, but i suppose stranger things have happened." she didn't like to speak for her brother, and more often than not had little insight to offer, but on this, at least, she felt confident. "i don't really know the whys of it all. why we went there," she confessed. "if i had to guess, i would say it was probably more about who else would be there than the man of the hour."

she nodded, his amplifying her respect for him. "such is the lot of an older sibling." she had enough siblings herself that she understood how it worked, being both an older sister and a younger one herself. "they're lucky to have you." it was not an empty compliment. as much as she would not bring it up, there was no escaping the fact his cousin was a bastard, and life would not be as kind to him as to his siblings for that simple fact. and yet, a bond still seemed to exist between lucius and his kin, and that was something she found commendable.

"you're not the worst company i've ever had." she shrugged. she'd no doubt that he was capable of rubbing people up the wrong way, but she'd yet to be offended. she didn't even really feel all that self-conscious, which was a feat within itself. "i'm rather enjoying it, actually. if you wish to make things unpleasant, you might have to try a little harder than you initially planned." there was an honesty to the way he spoke that she appreciated. there had been little of that in king's landing, and she had grown weary of trying to decipher the difference between what people said and what they meant.

Lucius knew that perhaps he ought to say something about the losses endured by House Stark. Say something for the sibling that was recently buried, or the sister that had gone missing. He didn't truly feel sorry, however. He had no ill will, he simply had never gotten to know Jon or Alysanne at all. They had been strangers to him. So he didn't utter any condolences for they would have been superficial, insincere words. Even Dacey, who was just getting to know him, would have detected the lack of truth.

“Your brother is seeking to make good with the dragon king?” he inquired, curious to know what was the North's vision of the recent crowning. The realms were no longer Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule and had not been for years, and yet they all dragged themselves to the old capital to kiss ass and play nice with the dragon folk. “I admit I had little desire to travel there myself, but where my siblings go, I go. Someone needs to keep an eye on them”. Especially in a place where he trusted no one.

Lucius glanced sideways, looking at Dacey briefly as they walked. “Fret not, I'll be quicker than you in making my company unpleasant,” he half-joked in return, certain that she'd be the one escaping his company eventually, not the other way around, since the Stark princess was evidently a sweet person. The bastard knew he wasn't a likable man and never really bothered to make himself so. Polishing his manners in that way had never been something his father cared about. Samwell never sought to make a proper lord out of him, after all.

when the knock came at her door, dacey was still awake. sleep was not easy to come by for her - likely for any stark, given the myriad of tragedies that had faced. her mind was overburdened with worry more often than not, and this was not the first night she had lain awake until the dawn.

the knock startled her. at this time, it would only be a sibling or the bearer of more bad news. her relief that it was the former was soon washed away by the look on cassana's face. the two girls were drastically different, night and day in temperament, but there existed an unspoken bond that only sisters can possess. and so, without words, dacey threw back the covers and invited her into the bed.

as soon as cassana took her place next to dacey, she was covering them both again, her hand pressed gently into the small of her sister's back. the northern chill was unforgiving at the best of times, but worse in the dead of night when the fires were dwindling to ash.

eventually, cassana spoke, and at her words, dacey moved her hand from her back to wrap around her, pulling her as close as she could, as though that was enough to keep her safe. in reality, there was little dacey could do to protect her. she was no warrior, like so many of their blood, but it was not their comfort cassana had sought tonight. it was dacey's, and there was nothing she would not do to try and make her sister sleep a little easier.

"i'm sorry," her voice was tinged with understanding and concern. "would you like to talk about it, or would you prefer a distraction?"

location: at winterfell after the trip back home from the coronation event

@daceystvrk

as the late hours stretched on and on into the night's embrace, cassna moved the dimly lit corridors, her path illuminated by the soft glow of a candle clasped in her hand. her destination clear in her mind as she made her way to her sister's chambers.

a gentle rknock on dacey's door preceded cass's quiet entry into the room, casting her visage in a warm halo of flickering candlelight. whether her sister was still awake or roused from slumber mattered not, for in that first exchange of gazes between sisters, words were not needed. between them lay an unspoken understanding, nurtured since cass's return from the harrowing ordeal with the umbers. by day, she grappled with her turmoil through a veneer of aggression and anger. 

yet as night unfurled into darkness, a different specter haunted her—fear.

in the embrace of darkness, cass's unease found no refuge. unable to conceal her nocturnal trepidation with the same facade of anger, she harbored an unspoken dread. and so, an understanding unfolded between the sisters, a silent communion that transcended words. cass approached dacey's bedside, setting the candle upon the nightstand before extinguishing its flame, enveloping them both in the embrace of darkness. nestling beside her sister, she welcomed the comforting touch of dacey's hand upon her back.

minutes ticked by in silence before cass found the courage to speak, breaking into the silence. "i dreamt i was back there...that brandon didn't arrive in time," she confessed, her words punctuating the nocturnal stillness. it was not a prophetic vision that tormented the youngest stark, but a nightmare that held her in its unrelenting grip throughout the night.

dacey inclined her head in a nod at baelon's words. the black targaryens of dragonstone were old friends to the starks. it was rare that she questioned the king in the north's judgement, but she was wary of the idea of inviting the realms to their home again, unsure who was truly a friend, and who was a foe. a ball to find a queen in the north was certain to draw the ambitious, those who sought to make a name for themselves in the history books, and all she could do was hope he chose wisely. "are you escorting princess aemma?" friends were few and far between for the quiet princess of the north, but she liked aemma targaryen enough that if she did not already consider her a friend, they were close to it.

she shook her head a little. "in truth, i think i'd like a moment of peace and quiet. if not the winter gardens, i would probably take myself to the godswood to find it. if you would not mind the company, i'd gladly accompany you." she tired quicker than usual these days, in her attempts to be visible, to do her duty to support her brother. "i am certain my brother will be glad that you've arrived." the wounds between owen and the king of new valyria ran deep, but that did not extend to the blacks.

Baelon had found solace and comfort in Dragonstone. The place reminded him of his family, the one he had lost during the war. Although, the trauma and the grief replaced every good and positive memory that he had of his childhood. He knew that completely isolating himself from the world would not be good for him, and the last thing he wanted was to lose his mind. There was still a lot to be done, he could not let himself fall into that darkness. It was during that time that Baelon would leave the castle more, go to the village under the dragonmount and speak with the common folk. Still, that was as far as he would go, Baelon would not leave the island of Dragonstone. That was until the invitation from the King in the North came and Baelon could not refuse an old friend.

"Of course, it was a long and tiring journey, but I'm glad it went well. And I'm happy to be here once again, see old friends." Baelon offered her a smile, knowing how uncomfortable it could be to see so many strangers coming into your home all at once. Baelon shrugged his shoulders. "I do not wish to bother you or pull you away from any errands that you might be running." He chuckled. "Although, I would love to see the winter gardens. I cannot wait to reunite with your brother once again."