Closed Starter For @feraylocke

from almost the moment she was born, dacey had been a little frailer than most. as a child, she had been struck will all sort of maladies that had kept her close to home, and even now she was a woman grown, the caution that had kept her tethered to winterfell was so ingrained in her that she simply knew little else. the north was all she knew, but even then, she knew very little of it. that was simply the way of things, a fact of her life she did not challenge or question.

there were perks to the way she lived. whilst she was a constant in winterfell, she had seen her siblings come and go, blossoming into adults all the while. sometimes, those absences were shorter, but three of their number had ridden south, and not returned for so many years that it was hard to recognise the children they once were in the people they had become. dacey could not imagine being so far from your home, your family, but there was a special ache in her heart when she thought about saoirse, for she had been completely alone. dacey had tried to maintain a bond with letters and gifts over the years, and had been overjoyed upon her return, but that did not mean they understood each other. they had missed so much of each other's lives, and that kind of distance would never be easy to overcome.

"you found me easily enough," dacey pointed out, half-smile crossing her lips. "seems i'm doing a poor job of hiding, being in the first place anybody would think to look for me." there was a sort of self-deprecation to her tone, an invitation for saoirse to laugh at her, too. "i'm not hiding, sweetling. i'm just more accustomed to my own company than i have a right to be, i think. i'm glad you're here, though." she should have sought her sooner, but as with so many things, dacey was unsure. after so much time away, it was impossible to say if saoirse would welcome the company of a sister.

who: @daceystvrk where: in winterfell, saoirse goes to visit her sister in her room since she has not seen her all morning.

the presence of the north was always dreary to many commonfolk, but not for the princess. she found that the snowy trails while frozen, very warm, and being back home was something the flame-haired woman longed for the whole duration of her stay in the south. too far away from her siblings, from what she was used to; it was a difficult change during those times to wear her hair as a southern woman, her clothing inappropriate for the warmth. saoirse always felt something missing until she arrived into those wintry gates some fortnights ago and suddenly, the clarity of being back in a space where everything made sense. a comfort.

one of many familiar faces that saoirse was drawn to see was that of her sister, dacey. despite their age difference, the princess felt protective over her as an older sister would; her sister was delicate, to say the least, and saoirse hoped at least that part stayed the same. with years between them, it was difficult to say she knew her siblings' individuality like she used to which meant getting to know them almost all over again. saoirse dreaded that but she understood it must be done; much had changed between herself and who she was now, once a kind soul now hardened and unemotional.

a soft rap of a knock echoed in the halls of winterfell as saoirse announced her presence to dacey before entering into her room. saoirse's usual blue hues made of steel softened at the sight of her sister and a tender, loving gaze settled across her features. something she was unfamiliar to these days, but her siblings managed to pull her out of that state. "dacey," saoirse spoke gently as she entered, "why are you hiding in your room?"

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 said nothing in response. always prone to overthinking, thin-skinned over a heavy heart, it was hard not to take cyrene's words and add them to the weight in her chest. everything her sister had said, dacey had taken as an insult against her, and that only made her withdraw into her shell. for months now, she had done her best to hold things together as much as she could, trying to fill multiple roles vacated by their absent kin. with cyrene here, things had shifted, and she no longer knew what her place was. it was yet another adjustment, and she had never done well in uncertainty.

silently, she followed cyrene away from the memories that had enveloped her, up upon the walls where her sister's daughter would be found. still, she hovered silently, inexplicably shy. it was ridiculous. she was the adult, wylla nothing but a small child, but she was a child dacey did not know. it was different with owen and adam's children. she had known them since they were born, but to wylla, she was a stranger.

eventually, she managed a small smile, though there was still a seriousness to her expression, there was warmth, too. "hello, wylla."

Sometimes being alive is all you have.

Cyrene's expression grew into something icy. Stony and hard. "I know." And that was all she would say for now, all she would lay bare of her soul in the frigid air, in front of someone her heart knew but her mind no longer did. She knew. It had been her existence for nearly six years now, even if her children had made it more tolerable. Had taken her from surviving to living for an entirely different purpose.

She was thankful, then, that Dacey readily took to her change of topic. Her head tipped and tilted, a vague gesture to the direction Cyrene had approached her sister from. "Come."

Wylla had been taken to walkway overlooking Winterfell's courtyard by one of Cyrene's ladies, a slight and uncomfortable looking one, bundled in furs to shield against the cold. Cyrene excused her with a quiet word, and the Lady was gone in a flash, likely to seek the warmth that had been leeched from her skin. Cyrene reached for her daughter to pick her up. "Say hello to your auntie, sweetling." As it always did, her voice turned soft and warm, almost uncharacteristically so. She supposed it was, in this place. It was not, with her children.

for a moment, dacey fell quiet, looking beyond lucius at some point in the distance. his words presented a conundrum, for as much as she was enjoying his company, in a strange sort of way she hadn't quite anticipated, lucius did not feel like someone she should confide in. but then, neither could she ignore his words. there was no doubt that the misfortune that had hit house stark in king's landing was not a secret.

"no." her answer came quietly. she had almost managed to forget, for a moment, lost in the frivolity of small talk, but now her mind wandered back to her sisters. "king's landing wasn't a good experience for us." the fact they were returning with two less starks amongst their number was proof enough of that.

she didn't want to dwell on it. there would be time to think it all through once she was back in winterfell, but time with her cousins was brief, and soon it would be over. she wanted to make the most of it, and so she schooled her face back into a smile and nodded her head. she had not asked the question out of a need to stroke her own ego - it was a genuine curiosity, one that had now been sated. "i'll try and keep it that way." the joke was a light, self-deprecating jab at herself. she even managed a laugh. "there's no offence taken. i'm actually flattered you think so."

Lucius gave a curt nod in response. A fresh start it was. Another person might have considered the strategic nature of becoming closer to someone of royal blood, yet the bastard did not operate in that way. There were few benefits in the world for him to reap beyond what his skill, his infamy, and the closeness to his siblings would award. The Bowman of Raventree Hall did not look for kindness or warmth in others either, yet he could not deny a part of him did appreciate Dacey Stark's manner of treating him.

“Northern folk don't do too well in Southron realms, I've heard,” he mused, admittedly curious to learn her opinions. Lucius did not merely mean the differences in weather, but the way of moving about in the world and interacting with others was so distinct in the wintry realm of the Starks than it was in other regions.

He wouldn't speak further on behalf of his siblings, though knowing the softness in their nature, they would never deem their cousin an intrusion. Her next question was somewhat unexpected. He arched an eyebrow, glancing at her as they walked. He wasn't someone who often felt pleased, so he actually struggled somewhat to decide where he found himself around that spectrum. “I'm not displeased,” he admitted in the end. “No offense to your siblings, but I do find your company better than theirs. They're so serious,” the Riverlander added with a light scoff. He knew he was a serious individual too, so putting him together with someone similar was just a recipe for quiet nods, intense stares and taciturn silence.

a temporary hush fell between them. usually when such silences fell, it kicked dacey's mind into overdrive, always assuming the worst of herself, always trying to figure out where she had gone wrong. but there was reassurance in his voice, and her cheeks turned half a shade more flushed when it hit her that she had missed the point, completely overlooked that this was simply banter between brothers, even if one of the brothers were not there to hear it. it still did not feel like her place to poke fun at aleksander behind his back, but neither did she need to explain and overexplain it, neither. she breathed out, and nodded her head once more. "thank you."

it was a common pattern for dacey. for a brief moment, her defences would lower enough for her to speak without thinking, until her mind caught up with her and forced her to re-examine what she had said. and then she would doubt herself. she spun, but continued to try and maintain eye contact with him, glancing back over her shoulder with her neck twisted at an awkward angle until the only option was to turn her head the other way. for a brief second, confusion flitted over her face, for when he announced his intention to speak with the hand, her mind still went to him first, not nasir manderly. "i am sure that will put many minds at ease."

he mentioned speaking to the king, and it would not be hard for him to notice how dacey tensed at the idea. was that a good idea? she opened her mouth, then closed it again. unless you think it best. was that a rhetorical question, or was he truly asking her opinion? she wanted to reassure him that owen would want to speak with him, and a part of her believed that to be true, but though he was her brother, she would not deny the truth - brandon knew him best. even now, he knew him better than dacey did.

"i don't know," she admitted, softly. there was worry, the sort of worry she always felt when she thought about owen these days. "i'd like to be able to tell you that i think he would prefer to hear it from you himself, but i truly don't know, brandon. do you want to speak with him?"

♞

the quickness to which the princess of the north, those the songs often dubbed as the rose of snow within the lands of karhold, took to attempting to defend aleksander karstark made brandon go momentarily quiet - though not for reasons one may have assumed. not because he felt as though she were interceding on something that was not hers to deal with, nor because he found the closeness she shared with aleksander to be questionable or inappropriate: but rather because it felt as though she had missed the part where it were clear the brothers of karhold were joking.

"i know, yer highness." his words were quiet but reassuring under the sound of the music as they continued to dance, his hand still resting respectfully on her hip as they spun around; he was careful not to barge her into any other couple on the dance floor. she were over explaining herself, in a way that would no doubt show far more of her state of mind than his own. "he'll not hear a word from me about it." a part of him wondered if this was the consequence of a clear change in sibling dynamics, what happens when the oldest brother is no longer that, but a king too.

for some reason the sight of the smallest of heads nods, the acknowledgement of his word, seemed to cause him a sense of relief - that there was at least one of the royals that understood the movement had not been encouraged by him, nor those who spoke it. none would find brandon karstark within their halls, igniting their whispers and their flames; not so soon after the weapons had been laid to rest. "i intend on speaking with the hand of the king himself on it. enough has befallen us all, i will not speak in riddles or wait in the shadows." he spun her around, watching as she turned.

whether brandon thought it was his truth, was something else entirely. he agreed with the sentiment. he agreed with what was being said. only, he did not agree with the timing; nor did he agree with the method in which such rumour was being spread. "unless you think it best for me to speak to the king himself." the king, instead of owen; there was so much change in wording, words that still felt foreign upon his lips. he watched as thought crossed over her features; no doubt, a sense of kindness remained upon her face.

dacey nodded her gratitude, remaining standing though seffora sat. there was a temptation to pace the room, but she withstood it - refusing a seat was one thing, but it felt rude to take the liberty to stroll around the room, even with someone she was as comfortable with as she was with seffora. she clasped her hands before her, neatly, and turned her full attention to the lady of longtable.

and her expression softened then, clear sympathy written on her face. sienna merryweather's treason had reached her ears, but it was not a topic she would have broached had sefford not mentioned it first. "i was sorry to hear of it," she spoke gently. "of your sister. the position she put you in. i cannot imagine how trying that would have been." trying seemed too small of a word for what seffora had been through, both before and after such an event. "you did not deserve it." but then, it seemed both the old gods and the new seemed to put them on paths that they did not deserve, did not ask for. dacey could only hope the worst of their life's challenges were behind them both.

for seffora, that certainly seemed so. she spoke of the people who had come together to help aid her in times of trouble, and that painted a smile on dacey's lips. finally, she took a seat next to seffora. "there's great wisdom in listening to the guidance of those with wisdom of their own to share, i think." it was a philosophy she lived her own life by - listen to those who knew better, follow the teachings of those who had knowledge to impart. "a skill i think many who rule keeps forget, sometimes." it was a subtle sort of compliment towards seffora. "you may not have prepared for this, but it sounds as though you are taking things in your stride. and when longtable flourishes again, don't let your gratitude towards those who helped you overshadow your pride in your own actions."

“Not at all. Make yourself comfortable in any way you like, Dacey,” the Merryweather lady offered with a friendly smile. The journey from the North was considerably longer, so she fully understood the princess' wish. Seffora, for her part, who'd ridden the last bit of the journey on horseback, did welcome the comfort of the couch that was set near one of the windows. It was lovely to get a good view of the western sea from it.

“Well, after what Sienna unleashed, anything would count as better fortune,” the Lady of Longtable admitted with a subtle scoff. To this day she remained conflicted of what her eldest sister had done, but Seffora had gradually learned it was not her burden to bear. What was hers to carry was the promise of what Longtable could become following the civil war. “I never thought I would end up being a ruling lady. None of the odds were in favor for it, and I never wished it, really,” the lady admitted. But circumstance built character, and Seffora could feel proud of herself for how she'd risen to the occasion.

“Well, my fortune has been deeply tied to those who have been guiding and aiding me in this chapter of my life. My aunt Denyse has offered her wisdom. I have little in the form of family left, and I'm so grateful for her,” she added with a subtle tug of her lips, a bittersweet smile. If one understood what it meant to lose siblings, it was Dacey. “Lord Tirius continues to be a support for me, some of his kin have moved to Longtable and been great advisors. I do have Laena, too. My cousin helped so many of my people, we arranged for her to teach her craft to many of the widows from the war, and they're slowly but surely rebuilding their lives”. Seffora's unshakable focus on the widows and the orphans had been her most important work once she became a ruling lady, wishing to support the most disenfranchised and the most vulnerable. “It's taken effort and time, but Longtable will be thriving again soon. I'm sure of it”.

Cathy Park Hong, from "Spring and All"

Genevieve Gaunt in Knightfall (s2) as Princess Isabella

more avatars right here

she looked at him, and for a moment, a profound sadness fell over her. it was not born of grief, like her sadness often was these days, nor of pity, because there was never a time when she looked upon him with pity. she had never seen him as anything but strength, and while she had long understood that he carried the weight of a crown, she looked at him now and saw the weight of the world. the politics of it all made her head swim, and she could not imagine how much worse it was for owen.

"sounds exhausting," and not just for owen. the arrival of more women in court would mean more women she would have to talk to, when she already only found herself comfortable in the presence of a select few.

dacey nodded her assent. war was an ugly thing. she knew there was supposed to be honour and glory found in it, but while she could look at those who fought and think them brave, she could not see it as anything other than a tragedy. "in that, you have my support. anything to prevent further bloodshed." if there was any cause she would dedicate herself to, it would be that one.

their conversation oscillated from politics to personal, and while it was the former dacey struggled to immerse herself in, it was the latter that owen was reticent to discuss. "i understand, but i am your sister." a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. it was easy to forget that she could be stubborn. "and my duty to my brother is equal to my duty to my king. when you have some hours to be owen, then i will make time to be dacey."

"If someone can get a king to marry their choice, they stand to gain a great deal. If it's not from the King himself then they stand to gain from the Queen. There will be an influx of courtiers, many who haven't left after the end of things with Rosa's funeral are sending for women to join them here." And he would share this with her but they were hoping he would sleep with their daughter or their sisters and then the Lord would show up and demand a marriage. With the beginning of responsibility brought on the end of what he enjoyed these days. Women.

"I grow tired of war, sister. Let us do everything we can o prevent one from happening and perhaps look beyond our realm and our connections." He dragged his fingers through his beard, he would have to shave soon. He would have to do something to ensure he presented himself as someone that wore the crown of the north. And not the images of Kings from times long ago. Ages of heroes. No. He would look like a King.

Owen looked at her when she asked him about how he was feeling and he thought for a moment. Raised his mug, finished his beer, and then refilled it before looking back at her and then towards the window. "If we start talking about that I fear we'll be here for hours and I can only be Owen so many hours a day."