The Idea That Owen And The Targaryen King Would Make Nice With One Enough Was Enough To Bring A Small

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

"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.

the sense of unease that had been dacey's constant companion in recent days was multiplied tenfold in the west. at least in the north, there were only her own people to face, and all the comforts at home that allowed her to do what she did best and retreat into herself when things were overwhelming, despite the attempts she was making to break the habits of a lifetime.

but here, there was nowhere to hide, and so she was forced to face the seven kingdoms and dorne with her head held as high as her neck would allow, and hope the sense of propriety that seemed to permeate the very foundations of casterly rock had some influence in stilling the tongues of those who would ask about her sisters' whereabouts, for she did not think her own courtly mask would remain fixed if they should.

anya's appearance had an unmistakeable relief flood through her features. she would not claim to know her well, but she knew her and liked her, and more than that, here she was something familiar. had they been in winterfell, she might have made a subtle step towards removing the barriers of formality between them, as she so often did. it felt like the walls had ears. "lady yuan," despite her unease, her smile was genuine, though it soon faded, replaced with something akin to concern. "are you alright? how are you settling in?" it sounded like small talk, but there was an undercurrent to her words. here, they carried more weight.

Closed starter for @daceystvrk Setting: Casterly Rock, the Westerlands. Little after the Northern court arrived in the West.

Anya had become accustomed to not display her doubts or her insecurities. As she grew up, remaining steady, appearing unfazed, untouchable, was almost a way of continuing to survive. Her unshakable demeanor was the only shield a lowborn bastard could hold. It remained second nature to her, even if her circumstances had drastically changed. And so here, in the court of the West, she could not find the words or who to confide in about the utter sense of being ill-fitting with every other noble around.

It was different than it was in the North. The court of the West appeared to have a heightened sense of elegance and propriety that Anya had not seen elsewhere. In the North, she'd earned her place. Here, she felt she was being seen as someone merely wearing the costume of a lady. She didn't even know if others thought that or not. She should not care, but she did. The raven-haired lady did not wish to embarrass the king or the North as a whole for any missteps, for failing to know what others at court knew from birth.

The Yuan lady walked next to the Northern retinue when they arrived at Casterly Rock, and was later led to the area of the keep where they would be hosted. Anya noted that her chambers were only a few doors away from where Dacey and Cassana would be, which was somewhat of a relief. In fact, after settling in and unpacking, she ran into the middle Stark princess as she was leaving her room. “Your highness,” she greeted with a polite nod.

anya spoke of pride, of the strength of standing alone. dacey was no stranger to self-imposed isolation, in shouldering her worries alone, but that was where the similarity stopped. her own reasons were quieter, less fierce. she bore things alone not because she believed it made her stronger, but because she feared the weight of her burdens on those she might share them with. there was no sense of northern honour, no streak of independence that she might take comfort in. it was simply easier to swallow the heaviness in silence rather than risk becoming another stone around someone else's neck. were anya chose to hold it like a shield of defiance, dacey's solitude was a habit she had worn for so long it was second nature.

and still now, dacey did not share what was on her mind, instead choosing to continue to speak of anya with a soft smile on her face. "i've often found that to be the case. people can be cruel, i won't deny that, but your own mind is often crueller." others could light the flame, but it was insecurity that often fanned it to an inferno. away from the comforts of home, those feelings were amplied tenfold. "we forget that we see every flaw in ourselves too easily. we can't ignore the cracks that exist within us, and so we expect others to see them just as clearly." her gaze softened when she looked at anya, understanding the weight of admitting such thoughts aloud. "the north was never supposed to be endured alone, i think. we have always been strongest when we stand together. my company is yours to take whenever you have need of it."

and yet as she spoke of unity, it did not escape dacey's thoughts that the north was a court that was growing more and more divided. it felt like she was standing on a frozen river, watching hairline fractures appear in the ice beneath her feet but powerless to move before they cracked below her. the true north cast a growing shadow, but it was another discomfort she held close to her chest, not daring to voice aloud. especially not here, where the image of seeming steadfast mattered so much more.

"embarrass us?" a small frown appeared on dacey's face, and she shook her head. "oh, no, no. i don't think that has been on... well, anybody's mind." but as she thought about the other women, the way it seemed to come so naturally to them what even dacey wore uncomfortably, she could not deny that she couldn't see the root of anya's worries. "the king, my family, we all know who you are, anya. if we had fear of that, i am sure owen would have had no qualms about asking you to remain at winterfell." her teeth came down to chew at her lip, considering what she was about to say next. "but i understand it. the fear of it, i mean. if there is anything i can do to help you, i will." she had never been one to allow someone to face the world alone. she would not start now.

Anya listened intently, letting Dacey's words settle over her. They carried a quiet wisdom that reminded her of why she admired the Stark princess so. Though the paths they walked were different, there was a shared understanding between them, a recognition of the burdens that came with forging their places in the world. Dacey’s observation struck a chord. People never really see you how you see yourself. It was a truth Anya had long grappled with, given her origins, given how she had grown up. The raven-haired woman thought that sometimes she saw more worth in herself than others did, and sometimes it was the other way around. It was a strange sort of cycle in which she moved.

“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed with a nod, a faint smile touching her lips. “Perhaps it’s for the best, in some ways. We can be harder on ourselves than anyone else could ever be”. Perhaps the worst kind of thoughts about her, were the ones she'd conjured herself. Anya’s dark eyes searched Dacey’s face, noticing the princess’s quiet strength, the subtle resilience in her words. And then there was an offer in the princess' words, something that felt like she was extending friendship. “For so long I thought there was pride, there was strength, in standing alone,” Anya admitted. “But I don't always want to be strong... I don't always wish to stand alone”. It felt like both immense weakness and great strength to confess such a thing. “I’m grateful for your company, for your understanding. It’s… rarer than I’d like to admit”.

The judgment could come from the West or from any other place, Anya knew. The princess was right once more, in saying that there could always be something to judge. The Yuan lady knew it was impossible to bend and shape herself in every way that would please others. She'd not done it a day in her life, and it was maddening that as a lady, she was no considering such outside opinions. She shrugged then, the gesture half-defiant, half-resigned. “Well, let them think what they will, I suppose,” she murmured.

“I do still have to learn how to be a better lady, though,” she added with a little chuckle despite herself. “I would hate to embarrass the king and your family because I've not been raised like others have”. Anya's tone was less doubtful, however, more light-hearted in the knowledge that there was still more for her to learn, and having the humility to admit it.

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.

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

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?”.

Genevieve Gaunt in Knightfall (s2) as Princess Isabella

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feray's forgiveness was a relief, but dacey still stood ill at ease, so sure she had said the wrong thing, and so unsure she entirely deserved the grace. there was a grace to the way she carried herself that dacey could never truly hope to emulate. so rarely did she speak of jon, and never without a tightness in her chest, an intensity she wished not to speak of. grief, to dacey, was an exposed nerve, to be concealed and protected from poking and prodding, and yet to feray, it seemed to be something quite different.

"you have more strength than most," she added, after a pause. "more than me." it was a strength that came from faith. that much was plain to any who knew feray locke. it was not that dacey did not have faith of her own, just that it was different. the afterlife feray spoke of was nothing like the teachings dacey had grown up with. "it is a lovely thought." it might have sounded patronising, if not for the utter sincerity in dacey's voice. "it might not be what my gods teach, but there is much peace in the thought." and children who had already faced hardship so young deserved nothing more than peace.

"it is never quiet in winterfell," she managed a smile. "there is too much life in the walls." and that was the way it should be, even if she often felt like a ghost, a relic of the past watching life continue around her. "it is funny, sometimes life seems too loud to bear, and at other times the quiet is crushing. there's never an in-between." it was more of a musing than something she expected feray to provide a solution to, if she could even understand it. "i'm sorry. a silly thought."

her head tilted a little at mentions of the ravens, expression softening. "i think i'd like that." her mother had been of house blackwood. the sight and sounds of ravens always reminded dacey of her. "clever birds."

she had become used to people not sure what to say, or apologising for accidentally saying something that might hurt her. but the truth was that anything rarely did. she had grown stronger in these last couple of moons. “do not fret, dacey.” she finally used her real name. there was a kind smile on her lips, but it was not wide or particularly joyous. there was always a tint of sadness to it now. except for a few moments where she felt like herself again, how she had been before the war, before she had to rely on poppy milk.

feray had never found it too difficult speaking of her brothers. she believed it helped her to be able to talk about them. then it was not all in her head and heart. “i do not mind speaking of grief and loss. i do mourn my brothers, and i wish every day they were here, but i also know we will see each other again.” without her faith, she did not believe she would have lived through the loss. she would not have been able to deal with her mother's sudden silence, or her father's pain that was so great he never left oldcastle any more, which meant she had to take on certain responsibilities as ruling lady in his stead. the war has done its damage, they all had to find a way to move on in peace. “i hope the children will find comfort in it as i have.”

she had no ambition to spend much time in winterfell, happy to stay home and at white harbor with amir. “thank you. winterfell is the heart of the north, so let us hope that it never grows quiet.” it should never become as quiet as oldcastle has become. “if you come visit, we can go see the ravens. i cannot claim that they are quiet, but luckily they are kept some distance away from the keep.”

.

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?