If Dacey Was More Confident, More Sure Of Herself, She Likely Would Already Be Dancing Without Waiting

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.

the positive confirmation was all dacey needed. she closed the door behind her before taking a seat, eyes drifting over the food before him. in the end, she took only bread, never-resting hands now taking to tearing it into thin strips. "thank you," a nod of gratitude followed. "one's cheese and meat consumption is a serious matter. best to explore all possibilities before deciding the right way to do it." for a second, there was a glimpse of her old self, the lighter dacey who was quicker to smile and joke. it was easier to feel a modicom of calm around owen, a little safer.

her stomach lurched unpleasantly at the mention of jon's name. her brother's fate was never far from her mind, and she could not think of his name without the grotesque imagery of what had happened to him.

"i do." dacey had lived her life within the walls of winterfell, and though she had seen little of the word beyond the north, it had its benefits. chief among them being that there was little that happened in the castle that she did not catch wind of. dacey saw everything, and understood more than most would give her credit for. if there was any offence in his query, she did not feel it, nor did she seek it out.

there was no denying that owen had a vision for the north. the ramifications of that were sweeping, but a vision without the proper guidance was doomed to remain just that. jon was that guidance, taking even the most complex of ideas and bringing it to life. it was an influence she was sure was sorely missed.

"i can't say i could be as capable as jon," she began, "but if there's anything you'd like me to look at, i can at least help you talk it through. sometimes a second pair of eyes does the trick."

Without Jon, Owen sat in the solar alone, such a strange feeling. Jon wasn't suppose to die. He was a man of the mind, a man who could look at the drawings of Owen's plans and bring them to life through builders and workmen. The changes happening all around them were because Jon knew how convey his ideas. Owen knew they would continue on with their dreams, continue on with their needs. The North would prosper and they would do more than be the region that survives.

"Come in, sister. You're never disrupting here. You're my sister and Princess of the North. Sit down. There's bread and cheese and hard meats. There's even black beer a gift from our visitors from the wall." He raised the mug and took a drink, sitting it down to the side then he picked up a heel of bread piling cheese, and dried meat on top. "Seen the sailors eating this way. Think I'm doing it wrong." He took a bite.

Owen loved his siblings, calling them all home the first chance he got when words of the Dance starting was reaching them. Some arrived before, during, and after but they came home. Their brother crowned King and them crowned as princes and princesses. The weight of it wouldn't crush them as long as he has his way.

"I would love to have more help...take no offense in my next question. Do you know what Jon did?"

even on her best days, dacey retreated in on herself in a crowd, and today was not one of her better days. even in winterfell, it was a struggle to pull herself from her isolation, and doubly so when she was in a place that did not offer the comfort of home. there was an undeniable sort of joy in the air, and while it warmed her heart to witness it, she remained on the outskirts regardless, witnessing the merriment, but never quite a part of it.

even if she had been at her brightest, had been able to make herself mingle in the crowds, the competitions would have held little interest for dacey, save for one name on the lists. her cousin's skill was well known, and here was her opportunity to see it in action. so she had braved the crowd, finding herself a spot to watch as lucius did what he did best. even with her limited knowledge on such matters, all she knew coming from watching starks stronger than she train in winterfell's courtyard, there was no denying his ability, and when he was declared the winner, she genuinely felt a little proud of him as she joined in the applause.

she did not expect him to spot her, nor to approach her, but she smiled when he did, the tense set of her shoulders relaxing a little in the company of someone she was more familiar with. "and to you," she greeted him back. she did not want to butcher the traditional phrase, to embarrass herself by stumbling over words that she was unfamiliar with, instead opting to sidestep the issue. "your title is safe another day, though i don't think that was in doubt." even with her inexpert perspective, it did not look like a particularly close contest to dacey.

Closed starter for @daceystvrk Setting: Following the end of the archery competition, Lucius runs into the Stark princess.

The bastard had earned the grim moniker of Red Rivers because of how many men's lives ended every time he nocked an arrow to his bowstring during the war. With an archery competition taking place as part of the activities for the Litha festival, it was only right that he defended his renowned skill —his title as one of the best there ever was—, even more so in his homeland.

There were very skilled archers he competed against in the tournament, making him work for it, but in the end, Lucius Rivers did emerge as the undisputed champion. There was prize money to be earned, but it was the recognition that the bastard of Raventree Hall truly savored. The reverence, the fear, and not born out of a name or noble title but because of what he was capable of doing.

The giving of the prizes for the archery competition and other disciplines in the open tourney ended, and that was when he spotted the familiar figure of the Northern princess. She brought her hands together for some subtle clapping as he walked towards his cousin. “Well, I had to defend my title, didn't I?” he said as a form of greeting before he offered a respectful bow for Dacey. “Beannaithe Litha,” Blessed Litha, he said then, which he didn't actually wish to any save a select few.

the grip on her hand was grounding, reassuring and rare. the comfort of physical touch was a rarity for dacey, who had spent too long walling herself in, isolating herself from the world, making such acts of affection difficult to come by. in the end, it was all for nothing. it hadn't stopped grief reaching her, hadn't stopped her heart feeling heavy. she gripped seffora's hands, sore fingers curling tightly around those of her friend.

"unfair," it was the first time someone had offered her a word to explain what it was that was weighing her down. silently, she nodded her head. "yes. it does." and though she agreed with the sentiment, with the feeling that a great injustice had been done, trying to pinpoint what that injustice was had her furrowing her brow. there was a great heartlessness in wondering if the unfairness came from jon dying, and not alysanne, before she could have made a choice that was now dacey's to clean up the wreckage of. there was a great selfishness in believing that it was their fates that were the unfairness, that the death and vanishing and the fact dacey was forced to endure.

her throat cleared, ridding it of its tightness. dacey would not weep, not when others could see her do so. she did not think any had ever seen her cry, her tears reserved for when she found herself alone. as much as seffora was her friend, and she trusted her, felt more at ease here than she had done in so long, she would not break the habits of a lifetime now. "thank you," and she meant it, her appreciation shown in the slight squeeze of seffora's hand. "but i don't think there is anything that can be done, apart from finding a way to... keep going forward, i suppose." that was something seffora had done, and done well, but whilst there were similarities in their tragedies, seffora had something to focus on. longtable, and it's people. for dacey, there was no such distraction.

a glimmer of a smile crossed her face, and then, dacey let out a laugh, the very idea of smiling after the turn their conversation had taken something that was funny to her in the strangest of ways. "i'm inclined to disagree." a wise woman would have done things very differently to dacey, would know how to navigate the mess she could not seem to unravel. "though it is gratifying to know that i have you fooled." a poor jest, but perhaps that was what was needed to clear the heaviness that had enveloped them

It was instinctive for Seffora to reach out and hold Dacey's hand. There were no words that ease the feelings that came with losing a sibling, that she knew from her own experience. The princess had buried a brother in the Winterfell crypt and knew nothing of the whereabouts of one of her sisters. There really was nothing the Merryweather lady could say in such a situation, and so she only offered comfort and company in the best way she knew how: in a small gesture to show Dacey that she was not alone.

The Lady of Longtable listened in silence as the Northern princess spoke. Her friend was quiet and reserved in nature, so she deeply understood the weight of her opening up to her. Seffora held her hand a bit tighter. She wasn't sure if she should prompt the princess to speak more on the subject. Sometimes it was best to let the other person share what they felt ready to share. “It feels unfair, doesn't it?” she ended up saying, however. It was unfair to lose a loved one. It was unfair to have a sibling stir up trouble and bring forth heartache. She thought about it because it was eerie and heartbreaking how similar their circumstances were to some degree. Both of them lost a sibling who was taken before their time, as happened with Sofina and Jon. Both of them had a sibling bring unnecessary strife and conflicting emotions to them, as happened with Sienna and Alysanne.

“I know there is little I can do in a situation like this,” she began. Seffora had just thought about it mere moments ago, how being there and offering some comfort might be the only thing someone like her had to offer. But still, she felt compelled to continue. “But I don't want it to go unsaid. If there is anything I can do —anything at all, for you and your family, you need only ask, Dacey”. And for her friend, Seffora would give it.

Again, Seffora's hold of the princess' hand tightened ever so slightly. “You have so much wisdom in you, you know?” she mused with a soft smile on her lips. Dacey was without a doubt one of the most insightful and wise people she'd encountered and for that, the lady felt fortunate. You should acknowledge the people who helped you, so long as it does not get in the way of acknowledging your own hard work. It was certainly the sort of mantra to remember for the future.

dacey's steps fell into line with naelys', half a pace behind as she followed. there was a careful way to the way the lady velaryon moved, a tension in her frame, the way her hands clasped as though to hold herself into place, that was all too familiar, like looking at a mirror of herself, and all the times she had tried to shrink herself in the background, unwilling to take up too much space. she longed to offer some reassurances, but her own nerves snared the words in her throat. the last thing she wanted to be was too much, too eager.

"neither did i," she admitted. "that is my own fault. it is only recently that i have felt..." she paused for a moment, trying to grasp for the right words. "comfortable enough to leave the north, i suppose." there was a world outside of winterfell, and dacey was like an infant, taking her first steps out into it. for naelys it was different, she knew. life had taken her across the seas, to braavos as well as these shores. dacey had wondered if her letters were boring, in comparison. "but i am glad that we have." she added.

naelys' next words came so quietly that they would have been easy to miss, but dacey did not. a frown crossed her face - not one of anger, or the disappointment that naelys spoke of, but of disbelief, and a denial that it was true. if anything, it was naelys that should be disappointed. dacey knew she did not cut much of a figure, mousy and quiet as she was. "you could never disappoint me, naelys." her voice was firm, but lost none of its warmth, its tenderness. "the thought hadn't even crossed my mind."

but the more she thought about it, the more she understood. was she not worried herself that in the flesh, she could not match up to words written on a page, those she had given thought to curating and ensuring they were perfect? that she had somehow deceived naelys by presenting a version of herself that she was not? or that the opposite was true, that she had shown her too much, allowed too much of herself to be seen, even the parts that were hard to like? "i know how much we shared in our letters. for me, it almost felt like bearing my soul to you. but you never judged me, and i never judged you. i don't think either of us are about to start now." she paused, as though waiting for naelys to confirm or deny it, to give her an opportunity to correct her if she was wrong.

there was a time where naelys could have been her sister. it wasn't to be, but the idea they had found some sort of sorority within one another regardless struck a deeper chord than dacey had expected. "i would have been honoured to call you a sister," it was a statement meant truthfully. "you have been there for me in a way that not many people have been, even when you did not have to be. i'll never forget that." was she gushing? it felt like she was gushing, being over-effusive. desperate.

they must have been nearing the godswood. the noise of the city was falling away, cobbled streets replaced by something nature had half-reclaimed. it was not quite the domain of the old gods, but it was closer to it. "it's funny. sometimes, when i went to pray, i'd find myself thinking about what i might say to you, the next time i sat down to write." now, naelys would be standing there beside her. it only felt right.

¿

naelys clasped her hands tightly in front of her, the silk of her sleeves cool against her skin. her heart was racing, every beat loud and frantic, echoing in her ears as she stood there. dacey stark. the woman she had known so intimately through letters but had never expected to meet in the flesh. and now here she was, tall and steady, with a presence that made naelys feel even smaller than usual. how many times had she thought of this moment? and yet, now that it was here, she found herself paralyzed, unsure of what to say or do.

her gaze flickered downward. her slippers felt rooted to the ground, her body caught between wanting to move closer and wanting to flee. she felt like glass, as she so often did—fragile, thin, ready to splinter at the slightest shift. she could feel the weight of her own awkwardness pressing down on her, threatening to smother her words before they even reached her lips.

“i…” her voice came out faint, almost swallowed by the sounds of the city around them. she tried again, forcing her tone to steady, though the effort made her throat tighten. “i didn’t think we would ever meet,” she managed at last, her hands twisting together. “it’s… strange. but good.” she glanced up briefly, then down again. “better than i imagined, though i hardly know what to do with myself now.”

she paused, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of dacey. it wasn’t just her height or the way she carried herself—confident but not unkind—it was the familiarity of her. naelys had poured so much of herself into those letters, her thoughts, her fears, her quiet joys, and now all of that felt exposed, like an open book standing in front of its author. “i hope i don’t disappoint you,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if dacey heard. her cheeks burned at the thought of how small her voice must have sounded.

“in person, i mean. i know i must seem…” she trailed off, unable to finish. fragile? weak? all the things people had always whispered about her? she didn’t want to know if dacey thought the same. her fingers fluttered toward her side, an aborted motion she wasn’t even sure she intended. “we could walk,” she said, quieter still, her voice barely more than a breath. “to the godswood. if you like. it’s quiet there. i think i would… like that. and you can pray.” she dared a glance toward dacey again, her heart still hammering against her ribs.

she began to move before she could think better of it, her steps cautious but deliberate. the air felt thinner now, and she was painfully aware of every breath she took. her hands trembled slightly at her sides, though she tried to still them by clasping them once more. “you… were a friend to me. almost a sister, really.” she said softly, the words coming unbidden as she referred to the time where it was once thought the glass seahorse would be sent north to wed adam stark. but such a thought filled her with such dread, such loneliness - even if they were the most approachable and warm people she had ever met.

“when i needed one most. i wanted you to know that.” her throat tightened, but this time it wasn’t with nerves. “thank you.”

closed starter for @ulises-tarth location: at the fair

"i think i had my eyes closed for that last one," dacey admitted, leaning against the outside of the photobooth as she waited for the little strip of pictures they had just taken to develop. it had seemed like a fun, cute idea at the time, but almost immediately as she had stepped into the cramped booth, she had been unsure how to pose, what to do with her face, where to put her arms, and she was sure that they'd just taken nearly four identical photos.

the strip finally printed, and she picked it up, gingerly, careful not to smudge it before it dried. "yep. see? eyes closed." she sighed a little, before a smile came over her face. "i like the first picture, though." in it, ulises was facing the camera, but dacey wasn't, her chin upturned to instead look at him. she looked happy. "do you want this, or can i keep it?"

Cathy Park Hong, from "Spring and All"

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?"

GENEVIEVE GAUNT in THE ROYALS

the moment cassana placed her head upon dacey's shoulder, her reaction was instinctual, one hand coming up to gently smooth across cassana's cheek, as though to check that she was all right without using words to do so, before letting her hand drop to her side again. it was unreserved in it's warmth in a way that was rare for daey for all but the youngest of her siblings.

there was no such warmth for cyrene. dacey did not miss the way cyrene's smile froze at the sight of her, and she responded by doing what she always did - by drawing back, away from what it was that was making her feel as though she did not belong here, in this place, where countless generations of starks had walked before. their reunion had been a tense one, and it seemed to have lingered.

and yet, she tried not to make it evident upon her face, tried not to spoil the peace the rest of them seemed to feel upon this reunion. cassana still stood by her side, and she allowed herself to draw strength from her presence, as she often did without the other knowing it. it was enough to paint a smile on her face, swallow down that knot of anxiety, and respond to what adam was saying, reminding herself that moment like these, when they got to be together like this, were a rare gift for them all.

"it does," she replied softly to adam, surprising even herself with the fact she were the first to speak. "i don't think i can recall the last time so many of us were here at once. it is usually quieter in the godswood, now life has taken us in our own directions." but for a moment, she could hear the shades of their childhood around them, laughter that had begun to echo long ago, and she felt a strange longing in her chest for it now. "but i have missed it. and i am glad the old gods saw fit to bring us together here again." even with those missing. even with those lost.

@owenstark

The King wanted to hunt and some times he wanted to go alone. On this day he traveled with his wolf. The great beast walking along side him as they made their way back. His horse carried a great stag on it's back and rabbits on the saddle. It would be a good meal, when the King wanted to eat well he would go out and get his own meat and have it roasted in butters and with vegetables and he would eat until he could not. Food and beer. It kept his mind at ease.

The sound of voices caught this attention. He dragged his fingers over his beard and took wrapped an arrow around his finger and lined it up as he walked closer. Calm washed over him as the voices were suddenly familiar and strange to him. Cyrene sounded different to his ears but he knew he all same. Adam was Adam, if his voice changed Owen would think another wore his face. And of course, Dacey, she carried a weight he always put on her shoulders. "Smoke get off her." Owen called out, putting the arrow away as Smoke ran up to Cyrene and put muddy paws on her front.

"And what do we have here?" A smiled graced his features briefly. "Starks in the Godswood. Have I stumbled upon the secret club house or has the old Gods brought us here?" Owen remember his secret cave with Alys and Jon, and it pained him to think of them so he pushed it away. "It's been too long since we've been a pack. We just need Cass." Those who were home at least. Life pulled them apart and together. Even as he tried, Owen did not feel like a brother. He felt like a King and he did not know how to turn it off.

@cassvstark