Stephanie Garber, Once Upon A Broken Heart

it did not take more than a cursory glance in dacey's direction to see that something was very, very wrong. her dark eyes were darting around the room frantically, and her hands, which were never still at the best of times, were moving a mile a minute. if she stopped to still them, to look down, she would notice that her fingers were bleeding.

it wasn't until she had been informed of saoirse's disappearance that she realised, with a sinking heart, that she did not know when she had last seen her sister. and now she was missing, just like alys, and dacey could not help but shoulder the guilt for it. she did not want to be a selfish person - but she had been, so concerned with what was happening in her own head that she did not see past her nose at what was happening to those she claimed to love. the guilt chewed at her, and it hurt.

there was enough movement that she did not immediately notice the karstark's appearance - not until brandon was close enough to her that she could meet his gaze. dacey looked up, silent for a moment. the facts as she knew them were this: alysanne was gone, and thanks to the last talk she had with the lord of karhold, she had her suspicions as to exactly what had happened, and knew somewhere deep in her stomach that she would never again see her elder sister alive. the second truth was that saoirse, too, found herself lost - but this time, dacey did not have the slightest inkling what might have occurred. was it another casualty of alysanne's folly, or something else entirely?

dacey opened her mouth to greet him, but what came out was not a polite hello. "have you seen my sister?" she paused. "saoirse," she added. it was ridiculous that she even needed to clarify exactly which sister they were looking for. if she wasn't so close to the epicentre of it all, she would almost look upon the situation with disbelief. "we can't find saoirse." her voice had grown thicker, the lump in her throat growing painfully large as she attempted to choke out the words. her lashes moved rapidly to blink back the tears she'd been too worried to shed, until that moment. it was all too much, too quickly.

who: @daceystvrk when and where: kings landing, brandon karstark enters the main gathering hall allocated for the northern court to find a tense, stressed atmosphere. within the middle of the hall is princess dacey stark.

the king's road would be a long journey, venturing through the length of the continent; and yet, the northern court within kings landing had been busying itself. there was a constant bustle of movement in the preparation to depart, for the hour of the wolf had come to an end - northmen did not belong in the south, and each time they did venture south, it was made abundantly clear why they were not supposed to be here.

loyally dedicated men who fought black now looked upon the green dragons, and there was noticeable tension in the air.

"something's off." brandon walked into the room alongside his brother, surrounded by the squires and other men of houses karstark and reed alike: at first glance it appeared as though the hall was just bustling and busy, and yet a second glance revealed more about the situation at hand. there was an issue, it was apparent in the faces of the servants, the way nasir manderly was giving orders to multiple men that surrounded him, and close to him stood the princess dacey stark; he thought of their last interaction and hoped she had not dabbled in what it was he had advised her against.

his brother stepped forward into the crowds, pushing through to enquire from the manderlys about what was happening; there were multiple people lined up giving their statements, as though they were being questioned. the king in the north was nowhere to be seen: though something told him that matter was only more pressing. more of a concern.

brandon himself did not step forward to speak, silently watching his brother instead: and yet, when a familiar gaze turned and looked upon him, he only lowered his head in a show of respect.

it took a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering whether he ought to even wonder about such a thing: but he followed in the footsteps of his younger brother, parting through the crowds as he approached the princess of the north. the closer he got, the more obvious it was that she was greatly concerned about something. his mind immediately jumped to alysanne, and he felt his stomach twist. "highness." he greeted, his tone weary. trying to read between the lines.

brandon was never good at reading between the lines. had they found alysanne?

dacey let out a breath she had not realised she was holding. she knew little of arron lannister, her nerves at being here in his domain, in the west, were already in overdrive, and she had not fully realised how much they had amplified simply by asking something of him. but it was the softening of his expression, the way his demeanour shifted just slightly, that had some of that anxieties easing.

even so, she knew not what to make of it. wherever she went, she feared the weight of scrutiny, of being weighed and measured and found to be lacking. she had felt it when he approached, whether it was true or not, but the sharpness he had approached with had dulled around the edges, and she found herself grateful for it.

"i am sure she does," she said, quietly, and there was no judgement or mockery in it, simply an acknowledgement of what could not be ignored. "but i am glad to hear that she is doing well. i have often wondered." she could not pinpoint the moment they had began to drift apart, whether it had happened when rowan arryn had died, or if it was already in motion before. it was as though dacey had looked around one day, and realised it had already happened.

she hesitated when he enquired as to their closeness, fingers tracing idle patterns on her palm. it was difficult to say - if they had been close, would they have ended up here? would that not have meant something lasting? "i don't know," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "not as close as i would have liked to be, i think."

she let out a cough, a small sound to clear her throat, and the small smile on her face turned rueful. "that is probably my own doing," she explained. "it is... difficult for me to get close to people." she did not expand on the point, though it should have been obvious enough, her bearing and stature that of a woman who took little pleasure in being noticed, who shrank when called upon to be social with those who she did not know.

"but guinevere was kind to me," she added, her thumb rubbing circles in the palm of her other hand. "she was... someone to speak with when i needed it. i do not know if she knows how much i appreciated her."

Arron’s sharp gaze softened, just for a moment, when Dacey spoke of his sister. The sincerity in Dacey’s eyes pulled at something buried beneath the hard exterior he wore. His emerald green eyes studied her, assessing her words with the same scrutiny he gave everything, though her request seemed to catch him off guard.

His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was something quieter, something more contemplative. He’d seen that look before—the wide eyes, the hesitant voice. His sister, for all her bravado, had never been good at letting people get close. She had too many walls, too many layers that even he couldn’t break through. But here was someone who cared.

"My sister is doing well," Arron replied, his voice a bit more measured than it had been before, betraying a softness he had not intended. He cleared his throat lightly, his posture straightening as he considered the way forward. "She has... her challenges, but she’s well. I’m sure she’ll appreciate hearing that you send your regards."

The offer of a favour lingered in his mind, and as he watched Dacey, a thought crossed his mind—an idea that could perhaps create the opportunity for the two women to reconnect. The thought of orchestrating a meeting between them, however indirect, seemed like a small chance to give his sister the companionship she needed without forcing the issue. He could easily arrange for them to meet, though neither of them would likely suspect his involvement. A quiet, gentle way of nudging both toward something that might ease the isolation that hung around his sister.

His expression softened as he spoke again, his voice quieter now, not as sharp as before. "Were you close?" he asked, though the question hung in the air with more curiosity than anything else. He didn’t ask out of a need for gossip; no, he wanted to understand.

westerlands attire

dacey dresses with the exact opposite intention of standing out or making a statement. her clothing is chosen to help her blend in, not make a scene, and not be noticed. just nice enough that people aren't going to say she looks bad, but not remarkable enough to comment on.

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

the conversation was taking so many turns, from something resembling civility to something entirely different, that only accentuated to dacey that nasir manderly did not like her. and he did not need to like her. dacey had long since accepted that there would always be people who would not, and most of the time, she had made her peace with that, even if she did not particularly enjoy it.

so why was it, then, that talking to nasir had her on high alert, anxiety coursing through her veins? why was it that she felt so small and useless, as though her every word was the wrong one. it made her want to withdraw from the life she had begun to take up, one of greater visibility and more responsibility. it made her question if that was necessary at all, or if she would be better retreating to the towers of winterfell, and forever closing the doors.

not to you, was the thought that immediately came to mind, but she did not voice that. she could feel her cheeks warming, both embarrassment and trepidation accompanying her unease. "i said around it goes," and the revelation seemed almost anticlimactic, as though it would disappoint him to hear that it was no utterance of great wisdom. "more to myself than to you, my lord. my apologies."

they had not yet left for the west, but already, dacey found herself wishing the trip was over. the northern court could not be absent, no matter how little she wished to go, and she could only hope that the trip would be uneventful, that they could show their faces, enjoy what king tyland lannister's hospitalities, and return home without coming to any trouble or concern.

"leave it with me," she assured him. if nothing else, it was something she could do. "and if there is anything else you need of me, please do let me know."

✯

he was all too aware of the fact there was a quietness that settled between them, and whilst nasir usually could appreciate moments of silence and stretches of quiet, whenever it settled in the space between them he found himself wondering if he had somehow misstepped. whether his words had been too direct and forward, and had resulted in him somehow offending her.

she had always been the quietest of her siblings, seemingly softer than the rest of them - he was sure she had muttered something under her breath, and he had not heard it. if he were not overthinking, he would simply have ignored it - and yet, nasir did not want her to think he was ignoring her to her very face. why could she not just speak louder?

"…did you say something, your highness?" nasir asked, looking over at her again; and again, his expression always came across far more serious than he could ever truly intend.

perhaps he had only put her off their upcoming journey, and yet it was imperative that the woman in the most amount of power in this northern court understood the reality of where they were going - if not for her to coach the rest of the northern ladies in the court. they could not be too casual with their tongue, they could not find false friends in those who were more foe.

"perhaps that was the reason." or perhaps manal would have found the princess entirely dull and unbecoming; they were striking different, manal able to command the centre of attention - whilst, well, the difference was obvious enough. again, he sounded almost borderline dismissive of dacey's idea of her perhaps getting along with his sister - though not because he actually thought that, but rather because he'd rather not discuss his sister at great length. too sensitive a subject, no doubt.

"i think it would best if you did…i know my limits, princess." he knew what he was good at. gift giving, had never been one of those subjects.

@wintervsuns

in the face of past loss, dacey had crumbled. it had made her weaker, crumbling in on herself until all that remained was a ghost of a girl. this time, though, there was something different about it. perhaps she was just tired of being weak, or perhaps she had been dulled to what it means to lose someone, but her sister’s disappearance hadn’t cowed her. not this time.

instead of retreating further into herself, dacey had rolled her sleeves up and made herself useful. that began with clearing alysanne’s things, deciding what could be of use, what exactly dacey needed to step into her shoes. in the process of doing so, she had come across some things she didn’t quite understand, but looked important enough that she did not want to keep the discovery to herself.

that was what brought her to brandon karstark. if anybody could help her understand, he seemed a sensible first bet.

“lord karstark,” there was a tentativeness to her voice, a caution that made it clear she was very unsure of herself in the moment. “thank you for seeing me.” there was much she could say to him, but the words died in her throat.

“i was wondering if you could help me with something?”

closed starter for @northernglorie

the hour was late, and dacey's quiet footsteps echoed against the stone walls, reverberating through the silence. there was once a time when she could count on being the only one awake when night fell over the keep, but now, it was more and more common to find that she was not alone in it.

more often then not, one who could be counted on to remain awake was glorie. and on nights where solitude was too much for her, dacey found herself here, approaching glorie's door with a warm drink and the hope that the night would end a little less lonely.

"i brought you something to drink," she placed the cup carefully on a clear spot on the table, careful not to interfere with glorie's work. there was a quiet admiration for her good-sister, and she liked to think that glorie knew it was there, that it showed in these small gestures. "and some candles. i wasn't sure if you had enough."

"and my company, if you'll have it."

dacey smiled at the girl who came to deliver their refreshments, then again at seffora, murmuring a quiet "thank you" of her own as seffora poured her a drink. it was moments like this that she missed when she was in the north, and made leaving it all the more worthwhile. though winterfell was her home, it could often be a lonely place for someone with dacey's disposition. there weren't many dacey called a friend, but the northeners who did count amongst them were not much for sitting down for tea.

but with seffora, things were different. as much as there was a lightness around her, a sense of putting away the weight on her shoulders and just being, there was also a sort of trust. with seffora, it felt as though she could say anything, and trust that it would remain private, just for the two of them to know.

and so, when seffora mentioned the brother and sister who were gone, buried in the crypts below winterfell or vanished without a trace, dacey resolved to speak of the things she had said to none other. "thank you," she shuffled, her eyes coming to rest on the hands clasped together on the table. she had tried her best, in the past, to help seffora through her grief, so she did not carry it alone, but when it came to her own, she had clutched it so tightly to her chest, keeping it so private that she had not let it go. "i dream of jon sometimes," she admitted, though dream was perhaps too tame a word. "and alysanne... i am angry with her." she wasn't sure if she was ready to share exactly why, but there was a sort of ease in admitting the feeling existed nonetheless.

she picked up a pastry then, pulling it into small pieces, more for something to do with her hands. as seffora spoke, she nodded her head, understanding all too well when she meant. it was not simply empathy - the sentiment of feeling the imposter, as though they were standing in someone else's shoes was something dacey herself often felt. "that is good," she nodded, in response to the fact seffora was already attempting to remind herself of her own success. "and you should acknowledge the people who helped you, so long as it does not get in the way of acknowledging your own hard work." in that, she had no doubt. there were many lands in westeros that would benefit from having seffora merryweather as a ruling lady. "i am glad that you have so many people to count upon. very few can succeed alone."

There was a knock on the door, and after Seffora granted entrance to the servant girl, the tea and pastries she'd requested were delivered for the lady and the princess. “Thank you,” she said and the servant girl retired, closing the door behind her. Seffora smiled at her friend then and began to pour the warm drinks for the both of them.

Dacey's presence was a comforting one, for Seffora felt she could be herself without any pretense. She could like what she liked, she could fear what she feared, without being judged as a naive, silly young lady. Somehow, their girlhood persisted in each other's company, in a world that did its damnedest to rip that away from young women.

“Thank you,” Seffora said in response, fully aware that the princess' words were genuine, that her empathy was always true. It was relieving in a subtle and special way to know there were people like Dacey who accompanied her through her trials and tribulations, even from a distance. At a time in which Seffora ought to have felt as alone as ever, she did not. Thanks to Lucrezia, Laena, Tirius, Dacey, she did not. “I heard of the happenings in the North as well,” she said in a softer tone, “Of your brother. Of your sister”. She had written to Dacey then, but Seffora knew words on paper would never be a salve for the heart in matters of loss and uncertainty. Still, she hoped that perhaps the Stark princess did not feel so alone in those moments.

The Stark princess was a very wise woman too, and those last words she spoke really resonated with Seffora. Don't let your gratitude towards those who helped you overshadow your pride in your own actions. Her friend could read her so well, understanding that was a lingering insecurity that still existed in the Lady of Longtable's heart. “I quarrel with that thought from time to time,” she admitted, actually voicing out what Dacey's keen perception had already detected. “I do work to remind myself that I have done good, that I have set in motion positive outcomes for my people. Sometimes it does feel it was because someone else guided me, and like I might just be the imposter that dons the title of ruling lady,” she spoke in a calm tone, reaching for her cup of tea, softly blowing on the warm beverage. “I suppose it's the lingering effect of my father's vision of me. His voice comes back from time to time. But I also hold fast to the voice of others, like yours, like Sofina's, who raise me up rather than bring me down,” she said before taking a sip.

anybody else might have laughed at owen's story, but dacey, though amused, looked vaguely horrified. "how many pizzas are you eating in a week, owen?" she asked, making a mental note to set up a meal delivery plan for him the second she got back to norway. "you could always donate some to a shelter or something. at the very least, it'll clear out your freezer." and also save his cholesterol levels.

sibling catch ups like this were far too few and far between. they'd all been so busy with their own lives, but it was nice to take a moment that was just for each other, no matter how overdue it was. she did her best, but it never quite felt like she was doing enough to show her support.

"life's good," she confirmed. "ulises has moved in." she'd never been sure she could see herself living with someone. for dacey, it was a big step. "everything else is basically the same. work keeps me busy. you should come by the hospital when you have time. there's a little boy on the ward who loves rugby, and he didn't believe you're really my brother," she smiled at the thought, shaking her head a little bit. "what about you? what's new in your life?"

who: @daceystvrk where: school gym notable deets: staaaaaark

"So, they said that if I can get them to a million likes I get life long freeze pizza. And when I realized it as like 400 calories for the whole pizza I was like well, I'll just eat as many pizzas as I can in my underwear and that's how I got free pizza for life but I'm a little sick of pizza."

Owen pulled his hair back away from his face as he caught up with his sister. He liked to visit her whenever he could and she came to games when she could, it was a good balance for them. The Starks were many but they were all very busy and even when Owen wasn't busy, he was always traveling because he could. He worked hard for his own money, ignoring the healthy trustfund from his family, and he wanted to spend his money in the best ways. What was the use in having so much if you wanted to die with the same amount?

"Tell me about things, how 's life be, doctor lady?"

Audrey Hepburn as Sabrina Fairchild

Sabrina (1954) dir. Billy Wilder

dacey held no ill will towards amir manderly. he, and his entire house, was trusted by owen, and that was good enough for her to trust them too, even if there was no personal ties to them. that was more her own fault than anybody else's. not for the first time in her life, she felt a pang of regret for the years she had spent shuttering herself away from the world.

but despite the fact that owen trusted him, despite the fact that she was, genuinely, pleased to see him safely returned home, despite the fact that not a single part of her felt any sort of negative feelings towards amir manderly, dacey felt herself tensing at his words, felt her fingernails begin to scrape at the freshly healed skin around her thumbs, and felt a flash of displeasure shoot through her that she didn't entirely know what to do with.

"contemplating?" she repeated, dully. "but likely to come to pass. am i correct?" if it did happen, it wouldn't be amir's fault. she had asked him a question, and he had answered it true. she could not place the blame at his feet for giving her an answer she had sought. and yet, to dacey's shame, this was something she had to remind herself of.

"it is not my safety that i'm concerned about." she was certain that amir meant the words kindly, but she felt herself bristle at them all the same, just a little. did he think her the type of woman who cared only for her own skin? "if there is to be war, then my brothers will fight in it. my sister, too, probably." her mind went to cassana, and the thought of it made her feel queasy. "i've no wish to see another stark go to the grave before their time." it was not just the starks. the north had seen far too much death and bloodshed. she was not ready to prepare herself for more.

❅

historically, amir of house manderly had maintained a healthy distance with the ladies of winterfell; which had come into greater use when they became princesses of the north. there was nothing questionable that they would have heard about him, nothing that was not written in those foolish pamphlets; meaning the king trusted him to speak with the princesses. he still did not maintain a closeness with them however, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised he never had.

"your highness." amir greeted, lowering his head before straightening back to his full height.

it only fed further into the thoughts that swirled in his mind, the thoughts of being the other in the north, the thoughts of not belonging and that they would always be this way. the ones to blamed, for their obvious power and wealth. he found himself wondering what this princess wanted. he did not want to hear talk of more grief, he did not want to talk about manal, or anything else; he did not want to talk about the grief that lingered over both of their houses.

because amir thought owen stark was in the right. because, when people were comfortable, they refused to change. to become better. the callouses on his hands were a sign of his own work ethic: his willingness to make himself uncomfortable. people did not do that unless you forced change upon them. his opinion was very much the minority in the realm though. "his grace remains contemplating, but it will not be as you think."

two sides meeting on a battle field. skagos was officially belonging to the north anyway; it was just about bringing them to heel. he did not want to go back there, but he would. he would rain down fury on all those who made him feel this way. like he did not belong - because he did not. "it will be on their front, rather than our own. you should be safe, princess."