July 12th 115 Ac - Dacey Stark Is Born

dacey did not answer the question immediately. it wasn't that she bristled at the question, did not take offence to the fact it had been asked. no, when the quiet stretched between them, it was because she was considering the answer she would give. the north had always been her home, a place she was sure she would never leave, she still felt that way. when she closed her eyes, she could not picture herself anywhere but winterfell, but she knew that would not always be so. once the matter of his own marriage was settled, owen would likely want to see her wed, too, and there was no telling where her groom to be would be from, and where that would see her living. the matter of leaving the north or not was not in her own hands.

"i don't know," she admitted at last, her voice quiet enough that it didn't carry beyond lillith. "the north is as much a part of me as the marrow in my bones. i shouldn't like to leave it, but none of us know what the future will bring."

and yet. her lips pressed together with the thoughts she would not speak aloud. for a long time, she had thought of winterfell as her sanctuary. as a sickly young girl, it was a place where the ills of the world could not touch her, and she had carried that thought process into her adulthood. now, though, she could not help but wonder if it was less a sanctuary, and more a cage she had constructed around herself. she took a breath to dispel the thought. there was little to be gained from dwelling upon it.

"ironoaks," she spoke softly, latching on to the offered distraction. there was something in the offer that tempted her, to her own surprise. she had always been more comfortable in what was familiar, but even in winterfell's halls, little felt familiar now. there was too much being whispered in the shadows, and the sinking anticipation of impending disaster she could not shake. the idea of an escape, however brief, was not unwelcome. "i would like to visit." she confirmed. "though we should both pray that i don't bring the cold with me when i do."

lillith stood beside dacey, her hands clasped loosely before her to keep them from fidgeting. the warmth of the hearth barely reached her, and she shifted slightly closer, her dark skirts brushing against the stone floor. the heat was a welcome reprieve from the biting chill of the north, though her mismatched eyes flickered toward dacey, noting the way her friend still seemed cold despite the fire’s proximity.

“the north doesn’t make it easy for visitors, does it?” she murmured, her voice light with an undertone of amusement. “i thought the cold might have mellowed since the last time i came here, but it appears as unyielding as ever. you must tell me, dacey—if you had the choice, would you ever leave it? or has it bound you too tightly, like frost creeping into stone?”

she glanced toward the bustling hall beyond, voices and laughter spilling into the quieter space they occupied. the firelight painted the edges of dacey’s gown in golden hues, and lillith’s gaze lingered there a moment before returning to her friend’s face. “you should come to the vale. ironoaks would welcome you, and it would do you good to escape this chaos, even for a little while. there are no hot springs to warm the walls, true, but the hearths burn just as brightly—and," as the thought formed a drunken clatter arose from a particularly rowdy group in the corner of the hall. "the company might be more agreeable.”

a faint smile tugged at her lips, softening her typically reserved expression. “though perhaps you’ll tell me you’re just as stubborn as your winters and wouldn’t leave even if the chance arose.”

"i am glad to hear that fortune has smiled on you." she truly was. she could understand how it would be easy to be bitter that others may prosper when it felt like her own life was falling apart at the seams, but that was not, would never be, dacey's way. the way she saw it, seffora was overdue for the blessings that she had received since they had last been face to face, and in that, there was hope that one day, the old gods would look upon house stark and grant them a reprieve, too. until that day, though, she would content herself with knowing that at least one person she cared for was well.

dacey nodded her head. "i would like that. it's been a long journey. i think some tea with a friend would be just the right way to settle in." just for a moment, it would do her some good to pretend as though nothing was wrong, and they were simply two women enjoying one another's company. the heavy gloom of winterfell had encompassed so much of her day to day. perhaps, despite her hesitancy to come, the westerlands could be a much-needed light.

"where are you staying?" she had yet to find her way around the westerlands, a place so unfamiliar to her that she had barely been able to picture it in her mind before they had arrived here. "i haven't got my bearings here yet, so you'll have to show me the way."

The Lady of Longtable offered a respectful bow of her head before the Princess of the North once she stood before her. Seffora did consider Dacey a friend, and despite skipping over some of the appropriate formalities, she did wish to convey her respect for the Stark princess. It was so reassuring to have the other woman reach towards her and offer a hug. The Merryweather held Dacey tightly, warmly, before they let go.

Dacey was not the first one to remark on her appearance as of late, whether to note her demeanor, whatever confidence or brightness she might be showing more outwardly than before. “Well, I've been blessed with great fortune,” was all she could say, for the gods had truly smiled upon her house and people after all the hardships they endured collectively as the civil war in the Reach raged on. Seffora knew her friend could be thinking of what she got to witness firsthand in Winterfell, though. House Merryweather had lost much back then. Seffora had lost the sister who had been her lifelong companion in the most harrowing way. The scar of such a loss remained, but as she stood here today, it didn't feel like a constantly bleeding wound.

“We must,” Seffora grinned, eager to hear whatever Dacey wished to tell her. She was also most willing to lend a shoulder to cry on too, if necessary, for news of the misfortunes of the Starks had reached the court of King Cedric. The Lady of Longtable would never forget the way the Stark princess had been there for her when she needed it. It was something she would never be able to fully repay. She wished to give it a try, however, and be there for Dacey. “Could you spare a moment now? Perhaps we can ask to have some tea or refreshments brought to the guest quarters my house has been granted”.

dacey nodded her head. one step each day. it was good advice in theory, if not for the fact that it felt like she was descending a steep set of stairs in the dark. if any of those one steps was on uneasy footing, she would go plummeting to the bottom. even when her feet found the ground, merely trying to find it made her stomach feel like it was trying to leap out of her throat. she had no idea if there was an end to the descent, but there had to be. seffora had similarly had to navigate her own darkened staircase, and now was starting to speak of the light at the end of it. perhaps, with time and patience, dacey could arrive there too.

she stayed quiet when seffora hugged her, her own arms coming up to hold her friend tight. she did not know if seffora knew how grateful she was for her support in that moment. though dacey had shared only a fraction of her worries, she felt lighter, unburdened in some ways. she made a mental note to send seffora a token of that appreciation before they returned to their respective lands once more.

"then you must be serious," the ghost-smile on her lips turned into something more genuine. dacey's melancholy had a permanent presence in her, but there were occasions where she could put it to the side, and this was one of them. "but you did not come all the way to the west to listen to my complaints. let's talk of happier things while we have time to spend together."

Seffora continued to hold her friend's hand, both grateful and saddened by this intimate space of trust and vulnerability the two shared. She never wished to see a loved one struggling, of course, but she also understood that sometimes it were the moments of an aching heart that brought people closer together. “One step each day,” she said to the princess. Some days it would be a step forward and some days it would feel like a step backward. And it was alright that it was so. Grief and heartache were not linear processes, she'd learned.

There was undoubtedly a warm, physical nature to Seffora in how she reached to hold hands or touch shoulders. For her most dear ones she couldn't help but wish to offer an embrace, and so she moved closer to Dacey to give her a hug.

“You can disagree,” Seffora chuckled then, her expression still soft, though with some more gladness in her eyes now “But know I will stubbornly insist upon it. It's the only thing I'm willing to contradict a princess about,” she half-joked. It was the beautiful thing about friends, she supposed, that she could see something in Dacey that the princess did not see in her herself, and vice versa. She experienced this with the Northern princess, and with Laena too —the subtle and tender ways in which they lifted each other up, trying to make the other see and recognize what others might have instilled into them to be blind to. It was the way in which girls —women— could do more than just survive in this world, but actually learn to thrive.

closed starter for @adam-stark location: owen's birthday party

it had been early in the evening when dacey began to feel that familiar press in her chest, the weight of too much noise, too many voices, music and laughter and clinking goblets, too much to look at and listen to all at once. there were times when it was more tolerable than others, but tonight, with winterfell's feast hall dressed for celebration, it felt like it might swallow her whole. but it was owen's nameday, and for that reason alone, she did not slip away, no matter how much she wanted to.

it was obvious to any who knew her well - when her nerves got the best of her, her hands were never at rest. they were clasped neatly in front of her now, but her fingers twisted around each other, never once stilling, as she found herself drawn into conversation with yet another lord from the knot of courtiers she had found herself entangled in. he was telling a story she suspected was supposed to amuse her, and though she was nodding in the right places, smiling when it seemed called for, she hadn't heard half of it. her thoughts were elsewhere, half looking for a suitable gap in the conversation that never seemed to arrive in which she could excuse herself, and half adrift, caught in the well of the crowd and all the more overwhelmed for it.

she did not notice adam approach - not until he was already by her side, apologising to her company and offering his hand in a dance.it was more than obvious why he had done it, and she did not hesitate to let him guide her away. in fact, she almost could have wept with relief when he did. once they were out of earshot of the lord, clear of the worst of the crowd, did she exhale. she was usually no more comfortable on a dancefloor as she was in a crowd. there was no peace or stillness to be found here, but it was enough of a reprieve for now.

"sorry," she said, when she finally spoke, a sheepish look crossing her face, though the corners of her mouth turned up slightly in the shape of a smile. "you didn't have to come to my rescue, but i'm glad that you did." there was no mistaking her gratitude in that moment. "and apologies in advance if i step on your toes."

it wasn't until they had already started for seffora's lodgings that dacey realised, belatedly, that she should have informed somebody where she was going. it was hard enough at the best of times to keep track of her siblings, but when there were already two of their number unaccounted for, her stomach knotted at the idea of causing undue worry. she glanced over her shoulder, already a distance away from her northern countrymen, and caught the eye of a guard she knew, who gave her a brief nod. it eased her to know that somebody had seen her leaving, safely with her friend.

it was a difficult thing to come to terms to, making sure that you were noticed, when dacey had spent so long hoping for the opposite, to pass through the world with her head down, invisible.

but in the company of her friend, she could allow her heart to rest a little freer. she did not want to talk of loss or mourning, the heavy things that had hung around her ankles like shackles. seffora was a splendid tonic to that, and dacey allowed her good cheer to rub off on herself, a smile creeping across her face. "do you mind if i stay standing until the refreshments arrive? it's been a long journey." she was hesitant to explore the westerlands and stretch her legs more substantially, but she did not want to take a seat before she needed to.

"but i want to hear everything. about your good fortune." she truly did, let her be reminded that there could be something good in this world.

News of the losses suffered by House Stark had reached Longtable, so she knew she couldn't echo the sentiment of good fortune for Dacey. Instead, Seffora offered a gentle smile, reached briefly to take her friend's hand. It wasn't stated, but the empathetic gesture was clear. If the princess wished to speak, the lady would always lend her ear.

“We shall do just that, then,” the Lady of Longtable said with a bright smile. It was a nice feeling, truth be told, to connect with the softer, merrier side of herself that shone more often when she was a younger lady. Her position demanded a certain maturity, of course, and Seffora embodied it well. It was a sweet thing to be a little flower, as Rhys used to call her, every now and then.

“I've just arrived myself, I must confess, but we can figure out where I and those of my house will be staying,” she added, linking her arm with Dacey's so they could make their way through the groups of people arriving at Casterly Rock. Fortunately, it didn't take long for one of Seffora's guards to lead them to the area that had been designated for the Reach, and specifically for the people of Longtable.

“Danke sehr” Thank you, the lady said to her guards. “Bitten Sie eine die Damen, uns Tee und Feingebäck zu bringen, wenn sie können,” Please ask one of the ladies to bring us tea and pastries when they can, she requested before they left the two young women in the quarters for the Merryweather lady. “Well, here we are,” she said with a wave of her hands, grinning.

Nikos Engonopoulos, from Bolívar, a Greek Poem

dacey's gaze seemed to catch on the tapestry. it were undoubtedly a work of art - careful stitching and vibrant colours speaking of a master of the craft, one she could recognise due to her own skill with a loom. and yet, the subject of the piece, the story it was trying to tell, made her stomach twist. it were bold, speaking of victory and glory, and yet, she found its depiction of battle and war distasteful, bordering on grotesque. the crimson threads could not fully capture the horror of spilled blood.

lips pressed into a thin line as she took in the details, the embroidered waves and flames. she were a stark, she knew the necessity of battle, and yet, she was also a girl who longed for a world without it, one where loss did not seem an inevitability. the tale being told did not fill her with any sort of admiration to the glory of the west - it just left her feeling colder than winterfell ever could.

she tore her gaze away. another stood before the second tapestry, and the feeling it evoked was softer, gentler. better. there was a quiet peace to it, hues of blue and gold that contrasted with the other one, and yet she preferred it. she caught the gaze of it's other admirer, recognising her as malee westerling, and offered a faint smile.

"lady westerling," dacey greeted, tentatively stepping forward and coming to stand beside malee. "they are... certainly a work of art." it was not a lie, though she could not bring herself to offer more glowing praise for the first tapestry. "though i prefer the ones that speak of quieter days." it was a curious decision to hand two such differing pieces beside one another. perhaps the blue sky and peaceful fields was supposed to serve as a reminder of what they were battling for.

"this one," she gestured to the harvest scene before them. "it feels truer to me. it's about life, i suppose. the beauty in what we see around us every day. the heart is in the details, rather than the story."

setting: flashback to the westerlands event, malee finds a moment of peace in a room of tapestries, and is joined by a northern companion ; starter for @daceystvrk

the lady of the crag stood before a tapestry, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the fabric. The scene depicted a fierce battle at sea—ships ablaze, warriors clashing beneath storm-darkened skies. the intricate details of the waves, the glint of swords, and the defiant stance of her ancestors seemed almost alive. she traced the embroidered figure of a ser westerling, his sword raised high against a towering greyjoy raider. her lips tightened. they always show the glory, never the cost.

the faint murmur of celebration drifted up from the great hall below: laughter, the clink of goblets, the steady rhythm of a drum. The birth of a prince. a new chapter in the story of the realm. yet, malee found herself here, away from the noise, seeking solace in the quiet narratives of thread and cloth.

she shifted her gaze to the next tapestry, this one softer in tone—a peaceful scene of harvest in the westerlands. golden fields, proud castles, and a sky so blue it seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of the fabric. malee exhaled slowly. how many years of blood and toil had it taken to weave such peace?

her thoughts were interrupted by a faint creak of the floorboards behind her. She turned to see the visage of dacey stark some paces away. she had briefly met the princess of the north on a few occassions, and was admittedly surprised to see her here, now. "your grace." she offered a small bow of her head, looking to the tapestry behind her, then back to the other. "they're lovely, aren't they?" she asked, a delicate finger pointing to the corner of the one she stood before. "i find the technique used for this one particularly interesting."

there was something disconcerting about being in the westerlands. that gnawing feeling of unease had been blooming in the pit of dacey's stomach since the starks had left the crownlands, notably absent two sisters. she had thought of little else in the days since, spending her nights obsessing over their fates, wondering if there was more she could have done. she hadn't wanted to come, but she could also not deny that she would feel the same anywhere. it didn't matter if she was in winterfell, or the west.

still, she was on edge, but the sight of one familiar face offered relief. margaret blackwood looked like dacey felt, and she could not blame her for that. house stark was suffering, but so too were her cousins. she had heard the news of merindah's death, and was so intimately familiar with loss herself that she knew exactly how the other woman must be feeling.

the greeting was unusual for margaret, but dacey caught on quickly. she nodded her head, returning it with one equally formal. "lady blackwood," despite the rigidity of her tone, she reached out one hand, fingers briefly making contact with maggie's own and squeezing in a way she hoped communicated all they were not saying aloud. she wished this was a more joyous reunion.

she struggled for a moment to think of the right words to say, but there were none. instead, dacey elected to throw caution to the wind. she could not pretend. "i am very sorry. to hear of your sister. if there is anything i can do..." she trailed off. what could she do? what support could she offer? "how are you holding up? and your brothers?"

setting: the kingdom of the westerlands, when the other kingdoms begin arriving, margaret runs into her cousin ; starter for @daceystvrk

steps that once felt so confident and airy felt entirely too weighty for the lady of raventree, who could not help but be hyper aware of her surroundings in the westerlands. she could not tell if it was this kingdom in particularly that unsettled her, or being, once again, in foreign lands after her sister’s passing. even now it felt too quiet without the younger blackwood chittering in her ear. she recalled praying for a more silent journey to her next destination, but now the silence haunted her.

the great hall was bustling with guests, she recognized some faces from the other kingdoms, but not the names. she catapulted back to their time in king’s landing, but she knew it were important to either impress, or go by unnoticed, for their own soon to be queen was a princess of these very lands.

margaret found some reprieve in one of the many corridors, intriguing artwork lining the walls, and she placed herself in front of one of the paintings in an attempt to look as if she were doing…*something*. hazel hues turned at the sound of footsteps, and she found relief in the sight of her cousin. “d-your grace.” she greeted the other, offering a bow of her head in respect of the woman. she would normally resort to more informal greetings, but maggie felt she could not be too careful, here. “i hope the journey was well, for you.”

♛ → THE NORTH presents DACEY STARK, the PRINCESS of WINTERFELL. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-NINE year old CIS WOMAN who was COMPASSIONATE & GENTLE before they saw the first of the flames, is now CAUTIOUS & INSECURE after seeing the last. they’re often associated with slim fingers weaving together shimmering silver fabric, plush velvets concealed by heavy furs, cheeks flushed pink from winter’s bite. ( genevieve gaunt )

pinterest ✧ playlist ✧ wanted connections ✧ character building ✧ house stark ✧ tiktoks

tws: mentions of premature birth, illness, anxiety/mental health and death

history.

dawn

the fourth child of house stark, dacey sybelle 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. it would not be the first time she would be underestimated.

sickly babe grew into a quiet, pensive child. more stark children came after her, and dacey loved them all with her whole heart, even as she differed from the rest in temperment. she was not built to be a fierce and fearless daughter of the north, but something else entirely, though for a long time, nobody was quite sure what that something would be. she was intelligent, sensitive and kind, but possessed nothing that would point to future greatness.

the delicacy of her infant years followed her into childhood. she can scarcely remember a time from when she was young where she wasn't sheltered to protect her fragile health, wracked with coughs that echoed through her entire body. the majority of her childhood was spent in the companionship of the two siblings who immediately preceded her, cyrene and jon.

noon

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. there was brief talk of betrothing her to jaehaerys targaryen, but that would come to nothing as both parties decided it was a poor match.

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.

however, as she grew older, dacey's health began to improve. she will never be of strong constitution, often picking up small illnesses that seem to hit her a little harder than others, but no longer was she plagued by a constant barrage of ill health.

with her newfound strength, dacey began to explore more of the winterfell that was denied to her as a child, and learned to love it there. she filled her days with discovering the castle's secrets, and made herself happy amongst the walls of her home.

without the illnesses that plagued her childhood and with the dance of the dragons ending as she reached adulthood, dacey was hit with a newfound confidence. she would never be comfortable being the centre of attention, but she began to find joy in conversation, and could talk for hours with whoever's company she found herself in. there's a sort of vulnerable charm to dacey, a sincerity that makes her likable.

dusk

the tragedies that have befallen house stark weighed heavily on dacey. loss brought about a great change in her. even in her younger, sickly years, she was always contented, but grief knocked that out of her. she became serious, always worried about things she had little control over - in particular, the lives of her family.

with that change came withdrawal. dacey has been a shadow of a woman, secluding herself from life in winterfell and becoming a ghost of what she was.

with her grief came anxiety and nightmares. she has not dealt with sorrow well. the lack of sleep made its mark, painting dark shadows around her eyes and hollowing her cheeks. her mental health declined sharply, though she spoke to nobody about it. the last thing dacey wants is to be a burden when so many of the people she cares for are suffering just as much as she.

midnight

the only thing that could pull dacey from her grief was her selflessness. as more troubles plagued her family, hiding away from the world was no longer a viable option for her.

there is no bigger supporter of king owen stark. dacey is unshakeably loyal to her eldest brother, and determined to be of use to the north, and to him. with all the problems faced by the starks, she does so by quietly picking up the duties of those no longer here to fulfill them, without being asked, without making a fuss, first to advise when jon stark was killed, then to help heal, as alysanne once did.

she's more present than she has ever been in her life, and feels a bit overwhelmed by it all. nevertheless, this is very much her era of coming into her own, finding herself, and figuring out her place in life.

personality.

basics

she's an incredibly anxious person. This mainly manifests in her movements, particularly her hands. they are constantly moving, even when she is at ease, her her fingers twisting around each other and her nails scratching at the skin. if she isn't able to weave for a while or is particularly stressed, her fingers become painful and red as her skin becomes raw.

to cope with her anxiety when she can't sleep at night and give herself something to do with her hands, dacey's favourite hobby is weaving, and she's rather good at it. she enjoys the consistent movements and finds it soothing, often making gifts of her creations to those she loves. her family likely have clothes, blankets, tapestries, and rugs made by her.

when her mental health is poor, she withdraws into solitude. however, on good days, dacey is an incredibly chatty person, and particularly loves talking to people very different from herself. she's thoughtful and sweet, and a very kind and considerate friend.

she's something of a pacifist. she cannot stand violence for any reason but the most necessary, and even then, she does not like it. she will always prefer mercy and justice, and believes a path of vengeance to be harmful and destructive for all involved. she accepts that there is evil in the world, and some people just don't deserve kindness, but she knows her morals and believes by seeking revenge, everyone loses.

it's taken her longer than most to find her passion and purpose, but she's incredibly dedicated and hardworking. when she does something, it will be completed, and to a high standard. she's a perfectionist at heart, because she's deeply worried of something going wrong and it being her fault, and doesn't want to cause any trouble or harm.

she's gentle, more lapdog than direwolf, but protective of those she loves in her own quiet, comforting way.

where dacey excels is exercises of the mind. she’s rational and logical, a little too tender-hearted to be called calculated, but honeyed words dripping from her lips are leaden with promises unspoken, convincing when they need to be, flattering when such is required, and so utterly sincere. her innate kindness means that this gift is not used to its full extent, to cause harm to any, but it's there regardless.

her sense of humour is very subtle, but there. she usually cracks jokes at her own expense, but does enjoy gently teasing those she's close to.

rumours

whilst not as sickly as she once was, dacey does possess a weak immune system and is prone to picking up any illnesses that sweep through the north, particularly in the winter, causing her to withdraw for a little while to recover. since birth, there's been rumours that she's on her deathbed, and every time she takes ill, they seem to resurface.

with a quieter sort of personality, it would certainly be easy to see dacey as someone to manipulate with ease. whilst she would certainly be easy to take advantage of for personal gain, however, manipulating her is far harder than it may appear. she knows her morals and is not easily swayed from them - just because she isn't loud about her opinions doesn't mean she doesn't hold them strongly.

goals

she accepts that it's unlikely to happen in her lifetime, but dacey's biggest dream is peace for the kingdoms. she cannot stand the idea of anybody hurting, whether she knows them or not, and craves a world where nobody has to suffer as she and her family have.

most of all, she wants her family to thrive and the north to prosper. she firmly believes in owen's vision and supports every sibling in all that they do and is proud of their accomplishments.

fears

more than anything dacey fears further personal loss. too much tragedy has befallen house stark, and she's already struggling to stay afloat with it all.

she fears becoming a burden. she wants to help, rather than be help, and hates people worrying for her.

other.

her direwolf is small for its kind, the runt of its litter. she's a pale silvery-grey colour with a small white patch on her chest. dacey named her rose, and temperament wise, she's very quiet, but very observant of her surroundings.

she favours darker colours, but never black. greys, deep blues, purples, burgundy and forest greens are common colours in her attire, her jewellery simple and unobtrusive.

dacey is always cold, but it doesn't seem to bother her. her skin is cool to the touch, especially her hands. having never been too far from winterfell, she's unaccustomed to warm weather, and in the few times she has experienced it, she doesn't cope very well.

she's a fairly tolerant person, but keeps to the old gods herself. her relationship with her faith is one she holds intensely privately, but it is very dear to her, and she takes great comfort in being in the wierwoods, or indeed any forest. if you asked her to imagine a place of peace, it would be amongst the trees.

the conversation was taking so many turns, from something resembling civility to something entirely different, that only accentuated to dacey that nasir manderly did not like her. and he did not need to like her. dacey had long since accepted that there would always be people who would not, and most of the time, she had made her peace with that, even if she did not particularly enjoy it.

so why was it, then, that talking to nasir had her on high alert, anxiety coursing through her veins? why was it that she felt so small and useless, as though her every word was the wrong one. it made her want to withdraw from the life she had begun to take up, one of greater visibility and more responsibility. it made her question if that was necessary at all, or if she would be better retreating to the towers of winterfell, and forever closing the doors.

not to you, was the thought that immediately came to mind, but she did not voice that. she could feel her cheeks warming, both embarrassment and trepidation accompanying her unease. "i said around it goes," and the revelation seemed almost anticlimactic, as though it would disappoint him to hear that it was no utterance of great wisdom. "more to myself than to you, my lord. my apologies."

they had not yet left for the west, but already, dacey found herself wishing the trip was over. the northern court could not be absent, no matter how little she wished to go, and she could only hope that the trip would be uneventful, that they could show their faces, enjoy what king tyland lannister's hospitalities, and return home without coming to any trouble or concern.

"leave it with me," she assured him. if nothing else, it was something she could do. "and if there is anything else you need of me, please do let me know."

✯

he was all too aware of the fact there was a quietness that settled between them, and whilst nasir usually could appreciate moments of silence and stretches of quiet, whenever it settled in the space between them he found himself wondering if he had somehow misstepped. whether his words had been too direct and forward, and had resulted in him somehow offending her.

she had always been the quietest of her siblings, seemingly softer than the rest of them - he was sure she had muttered something under her breath, and he had not heard it. if he were not overthinking, he would simply have ignored it - and yet, nasir did not want her to think he was ignoring her to her very face. why could she not just speak louder?

"…did you say something, your highness?" nasir asked, looking over at her again; and again, his expression always came across far more serious than he could ever truly intend.

perhaps he had only put her off their upcoming journey, and yet it was imperative that the woman in the most amount of power in this northern court understood the reality of where they were going - if not for her to coach the rest of the northern ladies in the court. they could not be too casual with their tongue, they could not find false friends in those who were more foe.

"perhaps that was the reason." or perhaps manal would have found the princess entirely dull and unbecoming; they were striking different, manal able to command the centre of attention - whilst, well, the difference was obvious enough. again, he sounded almost borderline dismissive of dacey's idea of her perhaps getting along with his sister - though not because he actually thought that, but rather because he'd rather not discuss his sister at great length. too sensitive a subject, no doubt.

"i think it would best if you did…i know my limits, princess." he knew what he was good at. gift giving, had never been one of those subjects.