She Shouldn't Have Come Here. For The First Time, Dacey Was Struck By The Selfishness Of What She Had

Elizabeth Olsen as Wanda Maximoff WANDAVISION | Season 1 Episode 9

closed starter for @feraylocke

dacey's return from the crownlands had been a slow, tedious progress, leading to her delayed arrival back in the north long after the rest of the stark's retinue had arrived home. she'd never travelled much before, and opted for a steady journey that could allow her to take breaks, should her health require it. that would prove to be a wise decision, for the princess had remained strong throughout the coronation and still fit and well now she had returned to her home.

but the feeling in winterfell was strange. the loss of the queen, coupled with the tension between the eldest stark siblings and all things relating to alysanne casting an odd sensation over familiar halls. dacey would do her best to see where she could help, how she could best support her elder brother, but not yet. first she had to clear her mind.

and so, it was to feray locke she had come. feray had long been a friend, the recipient of many letters from dacey over the years. the idea of seeing her in the flesh again was a welcome one.

"i apologise for the short notice, feray," an apologetic smile graced dacey's face as she greeted her. "i hope my visit isn't an inconvenience to you." she would be mortified if her visit had put feray out in any way, but such things couldn't be helped.

"how are you? did you enjoy the coronation?"

"a fresh start, then." it felt odd to offer a fresh start to a man who she barely knew, who aside from shared grandparents was essentially a blank slate, but dacey was glad to offer it. there was no offence to be taken by either party, no perceived snub to try and overcome. she did not know, if a familial connection was what she was looking for, if she'd find that in lucius rivers, but she also knew that it would not sit right with her to overlook his existence. the circumstances of his birth did not alter the fact she shared just as much blood with him as with any of his siblings.

his words were coarse, but dacey laughed anyway. "it was something," she found herself agreeing. "it couldn't end soon enough. i was more than glad to take my leave of it." it had been too hot, too smelly, too much of everything for dacey, too used to the quiet of winter and her own company.

"i'm sure they would, and i'm very grateful for it, but i hope not to intrude too long." this was a necessary stopover, not a planned visit, and she could not help but think that her presence was more of a burden than a pleasure. "does it please you?" she did not know where the question came from, but it had spilled from her lips before she could bite it back.

Lucius Rivers was bound by blood to House Stark, and yet he had nowhere near as close a bond to them as his brother and sisters did. Some of the Stark pups had been fostered in the Riverlands, some made it a point to spend time in the company of their kin, but the bastard of Raventree Hall had never engaged enough to feel a true familial bond if he were honest.

Dacey Stark was much too fragile in his mind, a quiet and reserved young woman who lacked the grit he'd seen in other Northern folk. Her company wasn't disagreeable, though, if only because she was one of the few who regarded him as she were regarding any other of the true-blooded Blackwoods. “No apology is needed. I did not seek your company or that of your siblings while in King's Landing, so that makes us even,” the Riverlander stated plainly. “That fucking place was a nightmare,” he found himself agreeing in less cordial language than Dacey's. Fuck diplomacy now, there was no lizard king or lords to offend in earshot.

“You're welcome to visit anytime you like, Dacey. I'm sure Ben and Maggie would gladly welcome you anytime you wished to visit,” the man assured her, for it was his brother and sister who made all the choices about their house, not the hag who clung to the title of Lady of Raventree Hall. “Or if you hope to extend this visit. It pleases them to have cousins around”.

Truth serum: Would you say that you are pleased with your life as it currently is?

"no." the answer was quick, decisive. dacey was an empathetic person, she could recognise that there were others in a far worse position than she was. even that was a source of guilt, that she should feel such sadness when there were others that were dealing with just as much and worse, but still, she could not say her life was something she was pleased with, or proud of. "i miss my brother, and my sisters. i worry for the siblings left to me. i regret that i have spent so many years isolated from so much of the world. no. i am not pleased."

Genevieve Wilhelmina Gaunt born 13th January 1991 - Happy Birthday!

“What is your mantra? We make our habits, then our habits make us.”

a quick nod of dacey's head was the only acknowledgement given. it was not to say that she was ungrateful for maisie's friendship. it was quite the opposite. a friendly face was hard to come by, and harder still for one such as dacey. she was never one to be found at the centre of attention, she didn't seek glory or flattery or to fill her days with idle chatter and social events. reserved and quiet, finding someone like maisie, whose loyalty to the starks was not in question, was a rare and treasured thing. and yet, dacey held herself back, unable to say what was truly on her mind for fear of saying something entirely wrong.

the lady mormont's next words had dacey's hands stilling for another reason, another reminder of the men and women of the north who had been touched by loss and bloodshed. she could not think of any amongst them who had not felt its sting. from the neck to the wall, the north was united in grief, yet fractured in so many other ways. and just when it seemed it was over, more division raised its head. "of course," her tone was soft, filled with compassion for the losses maisie had endured. "it must have been a terrible transition for you." she could not imagine suddenly standing at the head of your house, when that was never a thing you were raised to be. "the wheel can be cruel."

a small smile crept across dacey's face, the revelation of maisie's childhood dreams an endearing one. they were not dreams she had ever harboured herself, a young, sickly girl hiding away in winterfell's towers. marriage then seemed such a distant, foreign thing, and in many ways that had not changed. she did not dream of love now, because she knew that as the sister of a king, her heart would always be secondary to his needs. "duty." the answer came without hesitation. if she was to be wed, it would be at owen's discretion. "perhaps there is a way you might have both." and she hoped that there was, that maisie would not have to give up on the hopes of girlhood.

"it is up to the gods to judge alicent hightower. i will not condemn her, but neither will i shed tears for her misfortune. i do worry what it may mean for the reach and new valyria." there was a storm brewing, and as much as this was not the concern of the north, she did not like it.

"I care about my King's happiness, but in this conversation, I want to assure you that I'll be by your side" Maisie Mormont answered on the tip of her tongue, a little too quietly for any of the girls in the west to hear, realizing the Princess's insecurity. Perhaps it was time for both of them to return to the North, to their home, where they wouldn't have to worry about the intonation of their breathing in public. Although Lady Mormont felt that things were more difficult for Dacey, perhaps it was a feeling that was on her mind with the princess herself. She would have liked to get closer to her, like a true friend, but she felt that her words were rather direct. A part of the brunette saw herself in her when she was younger. 

"My cousin went through a lot, there were losses that I felt too" Maisie's lips twitched, thinking about deaths had never been her strong suit. The woman didn't like to recall the image of a deceased person she loved, because one memory brought the other. Sarra, Rhydian, her father. And she couldn't give herself over to it completely, only pray to the gods to take their souls. "But the world around us doesn't stop, and that's sad, one day you're just a girl and the next, a Lady Regent" Her shoulders heaved with a small pinch on her cheek "We're always expected to keep pace with the wheel, no matter what the conditions" She ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to dispel any inappropriate feelings that arose and put a smile on her face, even if it was somewhat false. 

"I need to get married, the Mormonts need to stay in the North" he jokes, pulling a laugh from deep within his chest. "When I was younger, I always imagined myself getting married, it was my fun, you know? But now that it's become a responsibility... I just don't know, but what about you, Princess?" Maisie asks with genuine curiosity, "Marrying for love or out of duty?" She lets out a breath, even though she already knew the answer "She's going to pay for what she's done all her life, she's going to become a sick, crazy woman, I think it's a fair punishment for someone who was so arrogant to proclaim her son as king, the old gods take their toll" he whispers about the Hightower woman, only for Dacey Stark to hear. 

war had left dacey feeling both far too hollow and far too full. the parasitic gnawing that had taken root in her stomach seemed to devour a little more of who she was every day, taking with it everything that made her feel whole and clean and dacey and leaving behind only an increasingly debilitating feeling of despair. there was sorrow and grief, yes, and a resounding sense of worry that was only natural given her sibling's roles in the war, but guilt and shame also - both because she knew she was not the only one to taste loss, and because here, barricaded behind winterfell's walls, dacey had proven herself to be nothing short of useless.

she preferred it at night. even on nights like tonight, when the castle was not-quite empty, it was more hushed. easier to move and breathe and be. at night, it was almost easy to pretend.

tonight was a little different - solely for the presence of sylvi cerwyn. her words brought dacey from her stupor, one that had her gazing pensively at the hearth she sat before, and she nodded a polite greeting. her mouth opened to exchange idle pleasantries, but she paused at the question. she could lie, and say she was faring well, that she was comfortable and at ease. it was what she would normally do. but tonight, she was just too tired to pretend anymore.

"poorly." the admission was a single word, but in it was more of an insight into her mind than she had given anybody in months. dark eyes lifted from the embers to meet sylvi's own, an attempt at a smile flitting across her features before dying. "though in the grand scheme of things, i haven't earned the right to complain." the rare moment of self-pity passed as quickly as it came over her, her face scrunching in an expression of concern. "i should be asking you that question. are you well?"

setting : the feast hall of winterfell, the hour is later and less people are wandering about, by the hearth, sylvi cerwyn spots one of the princesses and approaches her to talk (this is sort of flashbacky since it's during the war) ; starter for @daceystvrk

the walls of winterfell were cold to the touch, frigid upon lady of cerwyn's fingertips as she grazed them upon it's smooth surface as she wandered. sleep did not greet her easily these days, her children had long gone to bed, and there seemed to be a sort of tension that filled the air. so much had already been lost, so much uncertain. sylvi tried not to think of her own husband, of her dear friend brandon, of cassana...

she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the smell of firewood, ale, and stew as she entered the feast hall. she was both surprised and not to see others still lingering, mostly women and elder men. many spoke in hushed tones, perhaps either do to the lateness of the hour, or the topics of conversation. surely they all had someone they worried for, too. sylvi only hoped that all of their troubles would soon cease, that things would settle down quickly.

near the hearth, she spotted one of the stark princesses, dacey, the one who had always been quiet, a flower amidst the snowy landscape, frozen in time. she was kind, though, and likely racked with worry. "your grace," sylvi spoke softly as she approached the other, taking the seat next to the young woman, extending her hands to the hearth and flexing her fingers as she felt the coldness melt from her limbs. "how are you faring?" it was perhaps a silly question, but sylvi had always had an approach of getting straight to the topic at hand without talking around it.

Cathy Park Hong, from "Spring and All"

hyper specific 5am collection about freshman year of college (so far) and the pit it leaves inside your chest !!!!!!

Constantin Émile Meunier, Ophelie / D.H. Lawrence / Sung Hwa Kim, Untitled / pinterest user wuxianspeare / Albert Camus / pinterest user raiiiisha / Ramón Casas, Tired

closed starter for @amirofmanderlys

"lord manderly," she wished she could say that it was good to see him, but trepidation clouded her tone, her expression, for a large part of dacey feared that he did not bring with him glad tidings. not that his return was itself full of good news. only tragedy had awaiting amir manderly on his return, and that was not much of a welcome home.

"i am glad to see you returned to us." it was the kindest thing that she could say that still remained the truth. she was glad that he was safe, despite any anxieties she held about what his lengthy absence meant for the north.

there was once a time where she never would have asked the question she was about to voice, simply because she was too afraid to do so. for so long, her way had been to bury her head in the sand and hope that pretence was enough. it had been a long time since that had worked.

"is there to be war?" as blunt as the query was, it was softened by the way she spoke it, no less gentle than when she expressed her joy that he was back. "with skagos?" the signs were there, but she could not help but hope he would tell her otherwise.