Genevieve Gaunt In Knightfall (s2) As Princess Isabella

"of course," dacey nodded. she had no objections to him taking ownership of the pictures, considering the first strip was already tucked away in her wallet, and even if they weren't, she would have consented anyway, if only to make him happy. with ulises, she had gotten lucky, finding herself in a relationship that brought her the sort of peace and stability she had always craved, but as comfortable as she was with him, saying no when he asked something of her didn't come easily.

her fingers laced with his as they walked. "i'm honestly surprised so many people wanted to come back," she admitted. "i probably wouldn't if you didn't want to." school hadn't been awful for dacey, but in her awkward, teenage years, she had made very few friends, spending most of her time with hugo vance, her siblings, or people who knew her through her brothers and sisters. her social circle had widened in adulthood, but not enough that it would have been worth the journey if not to spend a little extra time together, away from the routine of home.

"i suppose it's nice that so many people wanted to be here, though." even if it had taken her until long after school to come out of her shell, there was something sweet about the fact that so many people felt so warmly about it that they'd made the effort. "remind me to ask my family if they want to have dinner while we're all here. it's not often we're all in the same place at once."

Ulises tucked a strand of Dacey's hair behind her ear when their photoshoot was over, helping her make sure she looked okay before they walked out of the booth. Just then, she also reached over to wipe the trace of her lipstick on the corner of his lips, making Ulises smile a little. Simple gestures like these, or bigger ones in their daily lives, they looked after each other.

Once outside the booth, he stood close to Dacey as they saw the results of their second photoshoot. “I love these,” Ulises murmured, a tender smile appearing on his lips. The first ones they took were cuter while these were a bit more playful, and both seemed so romantic to Ulises. “Can I keep these?” he asked. He could already picture having them at one of their bookcases at their place, so the pictures would be more theirs than his anyway.

Ulises' hand slipped into hers and he looked around the fair as well when they walked. “Yeah, a lot of people came here. A lot comes back to this place,” he said, which felt like a massive understatement considering so many of those in their social circle came from this place. It all connected back to this school in one way or another. Ulises wouldn't have befriended Adam if it wasn't for this school, and he wouldn't have met Dacey. “I've seen alumni from so many different years too. I guess that's why it feels like so many of us showed up”. A good sign, he thought. With so many alumni, it was possible the donation efforts would meet their goal.

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. 

Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written in October 1920, featured in The Diary of Virginia Woolf: Vol.2, 1920-1924

truth serum: do you see yourself as a valuable addition or a burden to your house?

it was a question that had kept dacey awake for nights beyond count. "i think i've perhaps always been more of a burden than a help to my family," she admitted. she wished that it were not so, but she was not foolish enough to think otherwise, for what did she have to offer house stark? there was nothing. no talents, no skills, not even the courage of her siblings to offer. "but i am trying very hard not to be."

cassana's presence filled the space whenever she paid dacey a visit, and for that, dacey was grateful. she brought with her light and warmth, coaxing from dacey a different side to herself, one that was less guarded, less composed. cassana had a way of grounding her, of making her push her own doubts and anxieties to the side for a few short moments, even if only to soothe her sisters. for that was the truth of it. dacey did not much enjoy being a princess of the north, but she very much loved being cassana's older sister.

her lips curved into a smile at cassana's hidden bottle, and if anybody else had produced it, she would have refused a drink. instead, dacey uncorked it, filling both their cups, though she poured more into cassana's than to her own. "if anybody asks, i knew nothing about this," amusement threaded through her words as she set the bottle down, still half-full of northern ale. "though if you ask me, they should be grateful you didn't figure out a way to smuggle out an entire cask. that may have been more difficult to hide under your cloak, though."

her smile turned introspective, a faint flush coming over her cheeks at cassana's compliments. "it's just something to do to pass the time." it was a little more than that, a steady, comfortable rhythm she could fall into when there was little else to offer it, but she enjoyed it all the same.

"you should have it," her voice was a touch firmer now. she had not woven it with cassana in mind, guided more by what inspired her in the moment than a desire to tell a particular story, but the tapestry suited her all the same. woven into it was a small pattern that looked a little like arrows. it seemed right that she would give it to her sister. "and i'll keep the next one. i'd run out of space on the walls if i didn't give some of it away."

.

cassana settled into the familiar warmth of dacey’s chambers, the space exuding her sister’s quiet strength and grace. sharing a meal with dacey had become a comforting ritual—a way to connect amidst the chaos of winterfell, to ensure her sister didn’t quietly skip meals as she was prone to do. there were times recently when she had already eaten but took as small second dinner to eat with her sister,not telling her she’d already eaten.she wanted just to be around her.

“you know,” cass began, sliding a bottle onto the table between them with a sly grin.she'd brought along a bottle of ale from their private stores, tucked discreetly beneath her cloak like a conspirator’s prize. “i thought tonight called for something special. straight from the collection the kitchen is so protective of. they won’t notice one missing.” the sparkle in her eye hinted she was daring enough to test that assumption.

her gaze wandered briefly to the tapestry hanging from the loom, its intricate greens and silvers glinting softly in the firelight. she marveled at dacey’s skill, the delicate patterns forming a story only her sister could tell. to create was her sisters gift. “it’s beautiful,” cass said, her voice tinged with admiration. “you put us all to shame with your patience”

at the offer, cassana’s brows lifted in genuine surprise. “for me?” her smile softened, touched by dacey’s generosity. “i’d love to have it, but only if you’re sure. it belongs here, though—with you. this is your work, dace. are you sure?”

july 12th 115 ac - dacey stark is born

the fourth child of house stark was born two moons too early and far too small. as a baby, she barely cried, but was prone to illness, particularly of the lungs. it was not expected that she would be long for this world. infants with such weak constitution rarely do, but against the odds dacey grew. she remained a frail child, prone to sickness, and her childhood was mostly spent confined inside winterfell to preserve her health.

129 ac - the dance begins

as she approached adolescence, a question lingered over what to do with dacey stark. while her siblings began to be fostered or trained for their duties as a stark, dacey remained in winterfell, sheltered and protected in order to maintain her health. with the dance of the dragons breaking out during her teenage years, her opportunity to explore the world outside of the north was further stripped from her. she waits out the next ten years in the north, purposely kept as far away from any conflicts as possible.

140 ac - the dance ends

with the leaders of westeros proclaiming independence from the targaryens, dacey finds her position shifting. she is slow to adjust to the change, maintaining her reclusive lifestyle except when absolutely necessary. she does put her complete faith in her family, particularly owen, and trusts and supports his decisions without question. however, at her core she begins to develop idealistic morals of pacificism, which will begin to shape her personal views and how she reacts to things.

post-dance

dacey continues to rarely leave the north, notable exception being to the vale, where she meets and forms a friendship with guinevere lannister. when the kingdoms are gathered in the north, she is more visible than she normally would be, but still seen less often than her siblings and very quiet publicly. she is a soft-hearted person, however, and does offer support to people she recognises to be suffering, including seffora merryweather, and engages in plenty one-on-one conversations whilst fading into the background in group settings. she remains in complete support of the king's decisions.

northern wars

it is during the conflicts in the north that dacey truly develops her distaste for war and violence. however, she is not foolish enough to voice her pacifism out loud, though when asked, she will always answer as honestly as she can: she knows her ideas are idealistic at best, and unrealistic at worst, but she thinks there is a better path than violence, aggression and fighting. despite this, she still believes the king knows best, and does not ever argue with his decisions or contradict him, either publicly or to his face. she remains in winterfell for much of this time.

death of jon stark

the death of a brother marks the beginning of a shift in dacey. still reclusive by nature, she begins to make her presence more known within the north and quietly attempts to aid her brother the king as best she can. she doesn't quite fill the gap left by jon, but she does try and lessen it slightly. the starks meet to discuss retaliation, and dacey advocates for justice over vengeance.

the kidnap of cassana stark, the deaths of rosalyn arryn, and the disappearance of alysanne stark

when further tragedy hits her house in close succession, dacey becomes more present than ever in order to better support her brother and the rest of the family. she takes the initiative to push herself out of her comfort zone and become more involved as best as she knows how whilst handling her own feelings and anxieties privately.

recent events

dacey attends both king jahaerys' coronation in the crownlands, where she largely keeps to herself, stopping at her blackwood cousins' home in the riverlands on her way back to the north, and the celebration of prince arthur's birth in the westerlands.

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

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

it was rare dacey had conversations like this with others, even with those she held dearest to her. those who she called friends knew of her enjoyment of weaving, of spinning stories from thread, but she had long since suspected beyond the appreciation of her handmade gifts of wall hangings and rugs, they cared little for the technicalities, the actual art of it all. not in the way the two of them were speaking now.

her eyes traced the graceful movement of malee's hands, listening intently to her thoughts. it struck a deeper chord in her than she cared to admit - the idea that peace was so fragile. it doesn't fight to stay. time and time again, that had proven to be true. no matter how they strove for it, how many wars were fought for it, how much blood was spilled to hold it for a moment, it was shattered all to easily.

"you're right." she admitted, carefully. "it doesn't fight to stay. but i think that makes it all the more important to hold on to." but if it did not fight for itself, then who would fight to preserve it, rather than just achieve it? "i think the artist was fighting for us not to forget it's value." her hands folded loosely in front of her, thumb idly rubbing circles against her own palm.

"does it hold a memory for you?" she asked. fields of gold were not a common sight in the north, but perhaps here, in the west, gold could be found above the ground rather than simply in the mines. she liked the idea that this might be so.

her gaze return to malee at her question, smile tugging at her lips. "it is," she confirmed. "I find peace in it. the weaving." there were nights where the creation of something became something close to prayer for dacey, peace to be found in every stitch. she was not a woman who found her words easily. it was in thread that she truly found her voice. "there is something special about seeing something come together that you created, with your own hand. do you weave yourself?"

the lady of the crag stood with a quiet grace, her posture poised yet natural, as though effortlessly balanced between decorum and ease. one hand rested lightly at her side, the other brushing the folds of her gown with deliberate care. “you put it beautifully,” she said, her voice low and melodic, carrying the weight of genuine understanding.

her free hand rose in a fluid motion, fingers tracing the air delicately as if painting the sentiment she sought to express. “peace doesn’t shout. it doesn’t demand. it’s quieter, subtler—much like this.” she turned slightly, her gesture extending toward the harvest scene, the golden threads shimmering faintly in the soft light.

a faint, thoughtful smile touched her lips as she studied the tapestry. “perhaps that’s why we forget it so easily,” she continued, her voice taking on a wistful tone. “it doesn’t fight to stay.” she let her hand drop slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the display as though grounding herself in the moment.

“it’s strange, isn’t it?” she mused, her voice carrying a note of wistfulness. “how a thread can hold a story. a memory. sometimes i think we’re drawn to these because they don’t change. because they stay when so much else slips away.”

she turned her attention back to dacey, a thoughtful expression settling on her face as a flicker of genuine curiosity warmed her eyes. the conversation had settled into a more relaxed rhythm, the formal edge of her posture softening slightly as she allowed herself to settle into the moment. "you're quite knowledgeable of tapestries, your grace. is it a hobby you've taken up yourself?"

dacey's thumb brushed faintly over the back of naelys' hands, tracing soft circles in a touch light as fallen leaves. it was the sort of calm she could not recall feeling in such a long time that settled now, the feeling that it was safe to breathe, and to be, was one that was entirely unfamiliar to her, something she could not remember ever carrying in her heart, but it was here now, as comforting as slipping into your own bed, warm and inviting, at the end of a trying day. there was the feeling that the two of them could remain here forever, undisturbed by time or pressure, and it would all be all right.

"i know what you mean," she agreed after a pause, her voice hushed as though fearing to disturb the peace, for she had long since learned such things were fragile. "new and familiar all at once." she had thought she knew what it was to know naelys, had built such a picture of her in her mind, constructed from words upon a page, but it paled in comparison to the real woman who had wrote them. it was different, but not worse - different in a way that was a welcome surprise.

"i think," she began, gaze drifting upwards to the boughs of the weirwood. "i have always found it easier to keep people at a distance. and our letters... that was a sort of distance, even as i told you all that was in my heart. i am not used to being known in person." she could not look at naelys as she spoke, but the entire time she did, the fingers that laced themselves with hers did not waver, holding on in a way that was steadfast. "i don't think i mind it," she said, after a pause. "not with you."

naelys' next words brought her eyes down from the trees, flicking to naelys' violet hues as though looking for the jest in her words. you have such a sweet face. "oh." her lips parted in a breath of surprise, and it was not that she was uncomfortable with the compliment, but that she could not recall anybody ever saying such things to her before. her cheeks had grown warm, and the hand that was not nestled in naelys' was pressed against dacey's own face, an attempt to conceal the flush that bloomed there even as a smile grew on her lips. "i - well, thank you." she let out a self-deprecating laugh. there was something disarming in the simplicity of the moment. it was not flattery for flattery's sake. it just was.

her gaze flickered for a breath too long, tracing the the subtle furrow in naelys' brow. how many letters had been exchanged between them now? too many to count, enough to line the distance between winterfell and king's landing and back again with the confidences they had swapped between them that had never been shared with another. it was enough to make something stir within her, a softness and certainty at once. "i am honoured to see you, naelys." she spoke the words with an utter sincerity. "and even when you don't see yourself what a gift that is to me, i see you still."

the smile was back upon her face, gentle and warm. "i don't doubt that," she said, and she didn't. "with our letters, we found each other even when we knew nothing more than the other's name. the gods willed this, mine and yours. they wanted us to find one another in this place. to stand here together." it was not often dacey spoke of her faith. in the religion of the old gods, prayers were done in silence. she held that close to her heart, a private, personal thing that was hers alone, but she did not mind sharing it with naelys now.

for a moment, she said nothing. an oath in the godswood was not a vow to be broken, not to a woman of the north, and naelys spoke hers with such conviction that it were obvious that she knew it, intent in every syllable. words carried power, but in that moment, dacey felt it immediately, as though the gods themselves had deigned to visit and bind them together in a way that could never be severed. she nodded, hand tightening around naelys' just a little.

"and i will never be lost to you," she murmured in return. "as the gods are my witness." her eyes searched naelys' face, memorising the way she looked under the canopy of the trees and dappled sunlight. it was almost cruel, that after this, they would go back to their letters, parted once more and left with only words, but it made the the importance of their promise matter all the more. "i swear it now, and the godswood will remember."

it was not until she felt the wetness on her cheeks that dacey realised she had began to shed tears. she was not a woman easily provoked to crying, had never once allowed herself to weep before another person, but she did here. "look at me," she let out a sigh that was half a laugh, before turning away, as though to hide her face from naelys, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "happy tears." she explained. "i'm just happy."

¿

the moment the princess of house stark had asked for naelys velaryon's hand, a quiet jingle of amethyst bracelets filled the air as her hand moved to slip into that of the princess. the agreement was wordless, said without a moment of hesitation; and yet, she did not even speak on it. the godswood stretched around them, vast and ancient, its leaves a sea of red and gold, rustling softly with a breeze that carried the faintest trace of the city beyond. “it is strange, isn’t it?” naelys began, her voice quiet, nearly swallowed by the rustle of leaves.

“to know someone so well... and yet not at all.” naelys velaryon stood beside dacey stark, her hand still lingering where it had been given. she had not expected the request—certainly not from a woman so cautious, so deliberate in the weight she added to the world.

but dacey’s grasp, firm yet tentative, felt grounding, like an anchor pulling her to the present. a small part of naelys could not help but wonder as to how lucky the stark sisters were to have dacey as their sister; how much she wished she could simply put her hand within her sisters as though they were merely babes in a cradle once again. "you have such a sweet face." she gave little explanation as to what she meant by her comment; only that in their discussion, naelys had always envisioned dacey to look older, more tired. and yet, there was a beauty of life that continued to bloom in her; as though her good nature reflected on her face.

naelys turned her vivid purple eyes to dacey, a slight furrow in her brow betraying her unease. it wasn’t the godswood, or the stillness, or even the woman beside her that unsettled her—it was the realness of it all. years of ink-stained words, thoughts bared and carried across leagues, had led to this moment. for so long, dacey had existed only in letters: a voice distant and safe, her confidant in a world that felt too often fraught with expectation. and now, here she was. solid. breathing.

she looked down, her hair slipping into her eyes. she made no move to brush it back this time, letting it obscure the flush she felt creeping along her cheeks. she paused, the stillness of the godswood settling in her bones. her hand in dacey’s was warm, and that small tether steadied her. “but i think you do know me. or—” she hesitated, looking up at dacey, her gaze softening—“at least, you see me in a way i’m not sure anyone else has. you always have. even when i did not have the courage to see myself.” after all, it had been dacey who had assured her that the north would be a welcome home for her, back when there were discussions of her joining house stark.

and for a moment, whilst looking at dacey's face, she had the quiet realisation she would have been happy. that all would have been okay; even if she did need to handle a great amount of change. her lips curved into the faintest smile, the weight of her own words surprising her. “and i would have found you, no matter where you prayed. no sept or godswood could have kept me from you had i heard you were here, dacey stark.” the smile lingered, but her gaze drifted to the towering trees above them, their branches reaching toward the heavens. “you’ve been my sanctuary,” she said softly, her voice carrying only to dacey’s ears. “and if your gods brought you to me, then perhaps they’ve shown me mercy too.”

she squeezed dacey’s hand, a gesture of quiet solidarity, before falling silent once more. the godswood seemed to echo their unspoken understanding, the whispers of its leaves carrying their truths to places only they could hear. naelys velaryon did not like change; it were as though she kept peeking back at dacey through the curtained thick waves of her hair as though to verify she were here. in the flesh, and they would be able to spend some time together - until they did not. until dacey needed to return to the north. the idea caused a quiet pang to ring out within naelys, who already found herself detesting the image that formed in her head. of watching dacey get into her carriage, and not knowing when they would see one another again.

she made a mental note to ask a maester how many leagues there were between driftmark and winterfell.

"i swear upon the old gods and the new, that you will never lose me." her words were solemn, taken in style of an oath; under the shades of the godstree, whilst her hand remained linked with daceys. the words seemed to tumble naturally from her mouth; how often had she seen oaths be made. how often had she watched the consequences as oaths were broken. not this one. "not now."

In the last few months, who has surprised you positively and who has surprised you negatively?

"my cousin, lucius rivers has surprised me positively. we were never close, but i enjoyed speaking with him in a way that i did not expect." the last few months had felt like such a never-ending wave of disaster that she cherished the moments in between where she could simply have a conversation and feel normal. "negatively, it would be my own sister. the princess alysanne." she had remained tight-lipped on what she had discovered about what alysanne had done, but her silence did not mean she condoned it.