Whilst There Was Undoubtedly Perks To Being A King, It Was Also A Thankless Job. The Weight Of The Kingdom

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.

sheltered was perhaps the best way to describe dacey stark, and that was her own doing. it did not help her now, though, for it was a struggle to recall who it was that she was speaking with in that moment. it took a minute before she recognised him from the coronation of king jaehaerys - the lord paramount of the stormlands, whose sister was mother to two of her cousins.

"catmint," she repeated, sounding somewhere between amused and satisfied by the answer. she took the flower, taking it from the very bottom of the stem in heed of his warning. "i've never seen it before. it must prefer the sun." it took a hardy plant to survive the climates of the north, though she wondered if it might survive under the dome of the glass gardens, where it was warmer.

"the smell is divine. i will look forward to the tea." the flower was placed in the basket, and she set about collecting more, now that she was assured there was no danger to come from touching them. she was not in the habit of picking unfamiliar blooms, aware of the dangers some possessed if handled without the proper care taken. "i do wonder, do you know how it got it's name?" were cats fond of it, or was it some reference to the lion of lannister that she did not understand?

"i'm sorry, my lord. i forgot to thank you for your assistance." it was not often that dacey forgot her manners, but in that moment, they had quite slipped her mind. "you seem knowledgeable on such matters." she did not think to find common ground with a man of new valyria, but a stormlander was quite different to a man of the crownlands, or so she understood.

whilst the lord paramount was swift in his duties to make nice with the court of lions, as a steadfast ally of his king, he never felt amongst friends in a place such as this. of course, he would also say he did not feel amongst friends in the court of dragons, either. though he had grown up with many of those he walked alongside in the same halls, they had, over time, become something akin to strangers. war bonded them, certainly spilling blood with those around you would do such a thing, but as time passed, and memory's faded, it seemed so did loyalties.

such was life, so he believed. the sun continued to rise and set, and he would continue on as he did every day. morgan wylde was a man of routine, and habits, so his decision to visit the lion's tor on a whim was certainly unlike him, but as he was one who often preferred the solitude of nature and the outdoors, it also wasn't entirely shocking when he said as much to his household.

the ride was not terribly long - morgan had much to ponder on the journey. he was still a bit dazed and surprised by the kindness of the dornish woman on the water's edge, how they could not be more destined to be enemies, and yet she was compassionate instead of resentful, everything he did not imagine for one of dorne.

he exited the carriage, the warm sun upon his face, and gave a quick word to those accompanying him before taking a stroll on his own. the hillside was so green, and ground firm, and drier than he were used to. he imagined his boots should sink slightly upon the earth as they did in the rain house, but the did not. the crunching of the earth was almost foreign to him, and when blue orbs looked down, he realized he stepped in a patch of flowers.

a woman's voice called to him in that moment, and he glanced over to her. he recognized her, vaguely. he believed her to be of the north, and then the connection was made that she were certainly one of the stark princesses. morgan tried to do well to recall the royals and high nobility of each court. he approached her to observe what she were referring to. a grin spread upon his face as he knelt down to pluck the plant by it's stem, careful not to touch too high - for there were small thorns amongst the lavender petals. "it is called catmint, your grace." he stated, holding it up between them so she may observe it closer. "bees are fond of it, butterflies too, perhaps it would be good in some tea." he held it for her to take, now. "careful of the small spines nearer the middle."

dacey offered a quiet laugh, soft but genuine. "there are always some eager to prove themselves." on his comments on the brackens, she said nothing. the age-old rivalry was well known, but not hers to fan the flames of. it may have been blackwood blood in her veins, but dacey was every inch a stark, and even if she was not, it was uncommon for unkind words to escape her lips.

"cassana may have given you a run for your money in the archery, i think," there was a hint of pride that tinged her voice. "but i fear i've lost track of them since i arrived here." perhaps they were visiting with their sister, the one who had become the lady frey and lived apart from them in the north - the one dacey was avoiding, because after years of not seeing one another, it felt far too monumental to change that. "i did see your brother had his name down for the melee. perhaps we will see a double victory for your house."

she hesitated before answering his question, as though trying to decide how truthful to be. normally, she would not speak of her own discomfort with crowds and people, but in lucius, she had found an unexpected kinship. they could not have been more different, and yet, she thought he might understand, not ridicule, where she was coming from. "crowds have never been my favourite," she confessed. "sometimes it's all a little much to take in. but it's joyful, tonight. i don't dislike it. and i am glad i did not miss your moment of triumph."

Dacey Stark was one of the few people whose company Lucius did not simply tolerate but actually happened to enjoy. Beyond her appearance of frailty and quietness, the bastard had found someone earnest with a kind of subtle steadiness, a sort of subdued strength. The calm wolf before being provoked to bite.

Lucius gave a simple nod in response to her good wishes for Litha and then went ahead to let out a slight scoff with her next comment. “Well, you never know. There's always a proud upstart looking to claim new titles, or a thickhead Bracken looking to embarrass himself,” he said, his tone casually disdainful.

“I did not see your siblings compete,” he mentioned, not having seen a Stark on the lists earlier. Lucius had yet to form a close enough relationship with his Northern cousins, and asking was more a formality than a real inkling to know about them or what they were up to here in Riverrrun. He looked at the princess then. “How is the Litha festival suiting you?”.

his mask slipped a little, and while she felt a pang of guilt, it was not enough to offer to swap back. in this matter, dacey decided she would be completely selfish. "you can always take it off, if it's too cumbersome for you," there was a faux innocence laced in her tone. "i'd be happy to take it off your hands. for the purposes of the competition, of course." her arm slid through his, leading him to the festival games and looking for something aleks might excel in. "what of this?" she pointed to a wooden crank. from what she could understand, it was a test of strength, the aim being to use one arm to get the crank to turn to a right-angle. it reminded her of an arm wrestle. "you are strong."

He saw her suppress a laugh as Aleksander had finally fixed his mask in place, the ridiculous ornate thing heavier than his simple one had been. Dacey's amusement came as no surprise and when he lifted his hand to nudge to mask back into place after it had slipped a little, Aleks couldn't help the small, albeit equally amused, sigh that escaped him. He huffed, then, offering his arm for the Princess to slip her own through. "Right. Your Highness deserves nothin' but the best," there was slight mockery in his tone, but in no way malicious. The Princess Dacey did deserve good things. That did not mean Aleks couldn't make jokes. He led them towards the stands with the Games, contemplating which one might be the best to play.

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.

May Sarton, from Journal of a Solitude [ID in alt text]

nasir spoke, and dacey fell silent, though her gaze remained fixed upon his face. she was listening, taking everything he said to heart, regarding his words seriously and thoughtfully. there was a wisdom to his words, she thought, one that she should have expected, but made it clear in her mind that owen's decision to name the elder manderly as his next hand had been a correct one. and it were not that she had doubted that, as she had never doubted her brother's vision, but to say there was not uncertainty within her about the change in the north would be untrue. yet, things could not be how they were. they would all need to look to the future, in order to ensure the north was all it could be.

but his guidance did not soothe her, he spoke of hate, and that made her nervous. fearful they would hate her simply upon the sight of her, anxious that something she could do would incite that hatred further. "and so around it goes," she murmured, more to herself than to nasir. she possessed such little capacity for hate in her own heart, and she could not understand those who held it close to them. was it not exhausting? how was it that they were not so weighted down by it that they found it in them to hate even those they purported to hold as allies?

but the same could be said of the north, she supposed, though instead of hating the west or the reach, it seemed to her that they would rather hate one another, as though the war had taught them nothing. she thought of her sister, the princess saoirse, who had clung to her own grudges so hard she left claw marks behind before she had vanished.

"i would not mind if you did." despite her personal issues with nasir manderly, he had spoken to her plainly and granted her insight and truth, and that she could appreciate. "i am grateful for your council, lord manderly. we are stronger when we know what to expect." and she said we, because in his capacity as the new hand of the king, whatever either of them did would reflect on the north.

the north had seen much grief, and house stark had not been untouched by it, but out of everything, even the loss of her own kin, perhaps it was manal manderly's death that felt the most tragic, the most horrifying. her instincts were to offer words of condolences, but what words could there be that could be enough? there wasn't any, and so though her expression softened, her tension and uneasiness giving way to something gentler.

"maybe she thought i would not have accepted?" in truth, there was a high likelihood that she would not have. it had taken her own losses to shake her out of her solitude, an isolation born in her childhood but maintained only by dacey herself. "i did not know your sister well." everything she knew about manal came from what others had told her - but she was yet to find anybody with an unkind word to say about who she was as a person, and how she treated others. "but i think i would have liked her very much."

"i don't think babies like very much," for the first time since the conversation began, a smile found its way to her lips. "and this particular baby is a prince of the west. he will want for nothing." that, at least, she was certain of. "something symbolic would be most suitable, i think. if you would like, i would not mind taking the responsibility for putting something together." it was a small gesture, but it was only in the small gestures that dacey every felt like she could be useful.

✯

"i think, knowing there is not much difference between westermen and reachmen is important." there were beats of awkward silence that seemed to sit comfortably between the conversation, not within it but between it; nasir of house manderly had never been one to attempt to fill in the cracks within a conversation, no doubt having once been the quietest of a trio of the generation that no longer existed. she had insisted he did not need to, but nasir would not have the princess of the north walk into a situation she did not know of.

the king, the truth north, and the manderly was what it had seemed to become; the realities of adulthood pulling apart strings of friendship and all but severing them rather than letting them hang loose was all but apparent. "the men of the west do in sunlight what the men in the reach do in the shadows." still, his quiet nature had turned to a certain sense of stubborn sternness that came in his beliefs; and what he could offer the kingdom of the north. "it is easy to assume the men of the west hate us. and perhaps they do. but as do the men of the reach, who are their greatest allies. then, they too hate one another."

the brothers of house manderly had swung both ways; one latching further onto the north, as though he wished to shake it into waking itself up and realising how much better it could be. the other turning away from it, all too apparent of the feelings of isolation and otherness that the stirrings had caused against their own. "i do not ever intend to inform your highness of how to behave, or how to be. only that, your kindness and your virtue is an exception within such lands."

there was no denying the fact that much bloodshed stained the pure snow of the north, but the violence targeted toward the manderlys and their people was due to a different reason - not just treason, but a feeling of being a scapegoat. the wealthy other. "manal found a great love for the reach." his late sister, the oldest kidnapped by the false king and who perished from malnutrition. he knew it the moment he looked upon her frame, her face; the death that had already sunk within her face.

"she spoke of wishing to extend you an invitation to join her, at least once. i am not sure why she never got around to it." perhaps because manal manderly had been a northern socialite, effortlessly involved in all matters - a striking difference to the princess. and suddenly, nasir found himself realising he was able to speak of his sister without feeling something blocking his throat.

now nasir wished to shake them all in their ignorance, force them to look upon what he could and what he would do; never did he think that brandon karstark would be an obstacle, a barrier to such a reality. even when he had detached himself from court, when he had pulled himself away, there continued a sense of faith, loyalty and trust in him that nasir did not have as hand. it caused a large hole in nasir's side, an apparent one any could use to target.

"…ah. i've forgotten that detail. what do babies like?"

.

there were many things dacey was good at - but dancing was not one of them. she had no natural gift for rhythm, but she loved music. thus, she kept to the side of the floor whilst others partook in the group dance, occasionally casting amused glances to the figures moving in unison. they seemed to be having fun, and that made her heart happy. it did her good to see some joy every now and then. 

her solitude was broken by a man she had never met before, who offered an introduction and an invitation. 

“hello,” she greeted him with a polite incline of her head. “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, lord vance. my name is dacey. dacey stark of winterfell.” it was a conscious choice not to use her title. the man seemed mortified to be speaking to her, after all. 

“i would like that,” she agreed with a small nod. “as long as you don’t mind my two left feet. i’ve never been a gifted dancer.” 

Who: @daceystvrk The Dance: During one of the Balls during the Coronation in New Valyria, Lord Hugo Vance works up the courage to get finally ask someone to dance. What he doesn’t plan on is asking Dacey Stark, Princess of the North.

Hugo was nervous but he was on a mission. His mother wanted him to get to know more people and wanted him to speak to many women and perhaps find a betrothed for him in the future. Hugo didn’t know what he would do but he knew that if they were going to be having balls there would be dancing and then he would have to take part and try to dance with someone, try to dance with others. And so far he’d been to two of these dances held by the dragon king during his coronation and he’d been too nervous to do anything so this time he made it a point to be part of the group dancing, To speak and it seemed to be going quite well and he was happy about that to say the least.

“Hello, my name is Hugo Vance of Wayfarer’s Rest in the Riverlands. I hope I’m not being too bold in asking if you would wish to dance with me?”

Hugo realized as he was asking the question that he was speaking to one of the Princesses of the North and suddenly his heart was pounding in his ears. He could feel the heat in his ears and prayed to the seven that his neck and ears weren’t as red as they felt. He swallowed thickly. What was he thinking?

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 head, though she said little in response. there was an anxiety gnawing in her at the notion that adam and glorie were soon to leave, one that she always felt when her siblings left the halls of winterfell, but one that had become more pronounced of late, since jon and cassana and the two missing princesses. even if it was the dreadfort, even if it was glorie's home, the knot of fear still took root. she wondered if she would ever truly be rid of it.

but when her eyes turned to glorie, it was not fear of the unknown, but concern for her good-sister that knitted itself into her expression. "i understand," it was commendable, glorie's commitment to her duty, even when it was clear that what she needed was a good sleep rather than extra candles and something warm to drink. "but i would not see you neglect yourself, if i can help it. a loose end is more easily grasp with rested hands and a clear mind."

caring for those close to her came as naturally as breathing to dacey, but being cared for in return was a little harder to grasp. it was not that she didn't feel as though her family loved her - that was not in doubt, but neither did she like the feeling of burdening them with her own concerns. they were for dacey to carry, and dacey alone. and yet, when glorie stretched out her hand, dacey took it, her red-raw fingers curling around glorie's aching ones. and with that, her lips loosened, and her worries poured out. "two of my sisters never came home from king's landing. the queen is dead. and i fear that will not be the last difficulties my family might face." she looked away from glorie then, her eyes settling on the window, though outside was veiled by the pitch black of night. "i fear for my brothers, but especially for owen. and for you and cassana. for the north. i even fear for the karstarks and the manderlys." perhaps it was unfair to rest all of this at glorie's door, but once the words were out, it was too late to return them.

retort earns a genuine chuckle from the brunette. she mutters a quick, 'good thinking' towards her sister-in-law, but in truth, she needn't bring a thing but herself. the company is coveted above anything else she provided. this time of year has her homesick and she missed the blooms of strange flora that her people had managed to keep growing strong each year since they settled there. thinking about it between scribbled reports did little good for her mental state, so having dacey to chat with seems a good way to quell the burning desire to load up a carriage at that very moment.

"unfortunately, dear sister, this will likely be where i sleep for the night. i've a lot to settle before your brother and i depart for the dreadfort. i wish to leave as little loose ends tied as possible." there's a certain exhaustion tainting each word. shes still finding balance between each duty that falls under her belt, and its more difficult when she feels the heaviness that weighs in her eyes. "but you've given me all i need to survive the night, and for that i'm thankful."

it didnt take the sharpest mind to interpret the body language of the princess before she has the chance to answer. the shift in demeanor is akin to the change shes seen in her sweet husband, though his is much more physically visible to glorie. "that is where you're wrong," doesnt mean for it to come out as stern as it does so she softens her tone when she continues, "not that i wish to see you grieve, but i do hope you know that i am here. i've lost plenty, and the starks pain will be my own until my last breath. we are family, and i am very sorry for any chance i've missed to provide comfort." her own sore hand extends, as if asking permission to take that of her newest kin; a show of familial solidarity that she thought passed with her own bloodsister. "if you've anything to get off of your chest, you have my word that it stays within these walls."