The Birthchart Of Dacey Stark

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.”

anya could not know it, but her words brought a sense of relief to dacey. most of the time, it felt like she were fighting a losing battle, play-acting at a role that she didn't belong in and the entirety of the northern court could see through. to know there was at least one person she had convinced was a reassurance - perhaps the rest of the world could be fooled, too. "people never really see you how you see yourself, i suppose," she mused. "for good or for ill."

it was something the two had in common. dacey had always been the quiet sort, reserved in her ways and anxious in conversation. it did not easily lend itself to making friends. "i haven't either," she agreed. "it makes me appreciate those i do have all the more." the people she let her guard down for were few and far between, and yet, she did not regret doing so for any of them. a beat of silence fell over dacey then. nobody could stand alone - it was something she applied to others, she realised, always trying to lessen the burden they shouldered, but rarely to herself. when she struggled, she did so in silence. she didn't say that out loud, instead shaking her head in response. "no. and you don't need to, either." the words were subtle, but in them, a quiet hand of friendship was offered.

she let out a breath. the judgement of the west was nothing she could offer comfort for. she could not assure anya that it would not occur, because it would be an outright lie. "they would always have found something to judge you for, though." she did not try to pretend that she could not think why the west may have a harsh view of anya, that her background would be of no consequence here. "i think just being northern would be enough. we can only trust that they need this to go well, and so will choose to keep their thoughts in their head rather than making our time here more unpleasant than it need be."

“You mask it well, then,” Anya mentioned. Dacey had an admirable quality to appear composed, graceful, confident regardless of where she was. By the princess' own admission that wasn't always the case, just the image the lady had of the other woman. “And yes, we endure what we must,” the raven-haired lady replied. It was something she agreed with entirely. Her life had been built on enduring and overcoming.

There were not many friends in Anya's life. There had never been many she counted as close to her, and the situation continued to be the same. Her circumstances were entirely different at present, and yet there remained the underlying feeling that she needed to protect herself, to be cautious, to keep others at arm's length out of a sense of self-preservation. Noble courts were different grounds from those she's known as a lowborn bastard, but dangerous all the same. “I've never been very good at making friends, I'll admit,” she mused in a lower tone. “Silly of me. No one can stand alone, after all”. She did not have the sort of charming, gentle or enticing personalities that drew in others to her. For most of her life, she'd been challenging, jaded, and much too prickly to let others get too close. Those she'd let in, she'd lost in one way or another.

At least we are here together, the princess said. Anya did find some comfort in that, finding herself in this place with fellow Northerners, It brought a sense of safety, in a way. A home away from home, indeed. “I will remain vigilant. I generally find it difficult to let down my guard,” she shrugged. Another consequence of the way she grew up, she supposed. “I will try to enjoy the trip. However, I am wary of the social events and some of the gatherings that will surely take place. I don't usually care much for the judgment— I try not to care for it, that is. But I know I will be judged more harshly here,” she dared to say, for it felt safe to admit this before Dacey.

dacey's gaze whipped to aleksander, the surprise and hesitancy in her dark eyes softening when she realised that there was a familiar face behind the mask. "oh, i don't know. i think i would rather have yours. this feels a bit much for me," she waved a hand in front of her face, gesturing to the far more ornate mask that covered it. "we can always swap, if you like. and i mean that literally, by the way, not as an elaborate ruse to unmask you and take your coin."

who: @daceystvrk where: lann's day festival in lannisport

The inside of the mask was a little stuffy, but Aleksander would survive. The city was beautiful enough, colorful and lively. Finding Dacey amongst the growing crowd was a little tricky, but he managed eventually. He gave the side of her mask a miniscule flick. "You got a good one," he said, a chuckle coloring his tone. His hand rose to touch his own mask, unremarkable and rather plain. "I was less lucky. This was the last one they had left."

dacey shook her head. "she's a westerner, i think," she offered, knowing that this was not helpful information. they were in the west. of course there would be westerners here. it did not help to narrow down her identity. she pressed her hand to her mouth to conceal her own laughter. though aleksander was otherwise occupied, not there to see dacey's amusement at her own expense, it still felt unkind to laugh at brandon's teasing of him. "i don't know. he has his moments, and he's wearing my mask. maybe that's what she finds so funny," she pointed out. he had swapped with her without complaint, despite looking a little ridiculous as a result.

from polite distance to the heavier tone of their last meeting, there was a levity to the conversation that had not formerly existed between dacey and brandon. and perhaps it had with owen, with cassana, but it was a side to him she had never known, and a side to her she rarely showed, save to those who knew her best. she was comfortable in a way that she was with the few she called friends - were they friends?

"i won't look quite so out of place, then." here was humour she was more comfortable with, jabs at her own expense rather than at the expense of aleksander karstark. though she was no great dancer, she still bore a small semblance of hope, however, that she had a little more grace than to look like a flopping fish.

he led her to the centre of the floor, and she let him, appreciated him for that, even. in the middle of the crowd, it was easier for the pair of them to be lost in it. one hand in his, the other on his shoulder, she was not sure if she was dancing as much as moving, allowing brandon and the natural jostling of the crowd to guide her. and for a moment, dacey forgot everything that she was attempting to carry on her shoulders, forgot the troubles waiting for her on her return to the north.

until he mentioned the true north. a small frown appeared on her face, and she tensed a little, but she nodded. "i have heard of it," her speech was more intentional, now, laced with a sort of weariness. brandon had become a rallying point for those who called themselves the true north, but dacey did not know how closely affiliated he truly was with them and what they believed in. "but i don't know what to make of it." she looked at him then, but said nothing more, a silent invitation for him to add his own perspective, if he wished to.

♞

"any idea who the redhead lass is?" brandon asked, his voice rougher around the edges - there was nothing that genuinely worried him regarding the sight, as at the end of the day, it was not something serious. "gods know why she's laughin' so much, he ain't that funny." his words were taunting, a keen glimpse into the reality of the nature of the brotherly relationship. if any were the centre of brandon's world, it was aleksander - none other.

what brandon saw was a man having some fun, with what appeared to be a lass from the riverlands down south to them; so long as he was careful and did not leave his bastards in her, he cared not for what or who aleksander spent his time with. such was the reality of being a man; or being men, with no sister whose honour they would need to defend themselves.

intentions that remained as pure as the winter sun itself seemed to lead and guide brandon karstark through his decisions this night within the land of the west, and whilst he felt a great deal of concern and issue and even guilt for the laughter that rung through the halls, he also found himself on high alert - no doubt because of the tensions that grew between northmen and westermen during the dance. they were too different, on opposites sides of two different worlds: they had not needed to share the same space, and yet, here they were.

"not sure if i'd call this southern jumpin' dancing." he spoke, briefly meeting her gaze with a warm smile crossing his features. "look like fishes outta water, they do."

still, he did not wish to bring the mood of the princess down. it had been made obvious that she was more publicly visible than she had ever been before, picking everything up and trying to lace it together. if any deserved respite from the worry and from the concern, it was her. when she greeted him with her usual small hello, he merely nodded his head in her direction, as though to accept her greeting before leading her onto the dance floor. it was the least he could do considering aleksander's treachery.

his instinct was go in the middle of the dance floor, so they were not on the edges and clearly watched; he did not know why he did not want to be watched. still, he maintained her gaze as he put his hand upon her waist, as though to give her a heads up he would be doing that - and then they found themselves swept into the dancing, becoming a whirling mess. perhaps they weren't doing the correct dance moves. "you've heard of it, haven't you? this true north." he spoke as they danced.

closed starter for @feraylocke

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

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

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

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

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

dacey knew that she should mourn the death of her cousin - but she also knew she had little more grief to give. watching her family dwindle one by one had all but made sure of that. whilst she did not have enough space in her heart to grieve for merindah blackwood, she could offer some comfort to maggie, or at least, try to. she wasn't sure how much of that she could offer, if her cousin felt the same as she did ; that they were united in grief, even if they were not mourning the same loss.

but maggie's voice was tired, in a way dacey could not remember hearing it be before, and the tidings from raventree hall were predictably not ones of joy and cheer. "how old are your youngest brothers, now?" the query was gentle. she knew the boys were both still young, and could not honestly say when the best age to understand death and loss could possibly be. in an ideal world, not until your hair turned grey, but that was not the way of the world they lived in. "what of lucius? and you?" she spoke of her younger brothers, but said little of herself.

she swallowed thickly, giving a quick nod of her head. it was easier to manage how she felt about her sisters if she did not think about it, did not talk about it. maggie did not need to know that every moment spent alone, they were the only thing on her mind. that even when she dreamed, it was of her sisters riding through the gates of winterfell, wolves heads instead of their own, the same as jon.

"i almost didn't want to come," she confessed, dropping her voice to a whisper, as though if anybody heard her, she would be cast out. "i still think perhaps i shouldn't have. though i am glad it means i can spend some time with you."

her cousins hand giving hers a reassuring squeeze made maggie feel a sense of compassion she hadn't encountered in some time. she knew the stark's, as well, were dealing with immense losses, not just with the war that ravaged over heir lands, but with the disappearance of two siblings, the former death of another, it surely put perspective onto her own circumstances. regardless, she knew there was not comparing of grief, only enduring. and she hoped that they might be a comfortable presence to one another while they simply endured.

maggie returned the squeeze of the others hand, a ghost of a smile coming upon her lips as she rose to her normal height now. her hands came to clasp in front of her now, and it seemed for a moment there wasn't quite anything to say - where would one start? normally the lady of raventree hall could maintain conversation well, but she felt at a loss of words, and had for some time.

a nod, she responded with, wisps of scarlet tresses falling over her face, and a hand rose to push them back as she tried to surmise just had to answer such a thing. "thank you, cousin." she responded, voice weary and tired, a show of her true feelings for the first time she their arrival to the west. "we are all doing as well as expected, i think." which wasn't all that well, in reality. "benadict seems to have immersed himself into the duties of his new position." another blow, but maggie understood it, almost relieved by it, strangely. "hugo and little sam seem to struggle with comprehending it." they were young, and not young. she realized she hadn't had opportunity to really discuss such things with them, but figured their mother had taken that upon herself.

"and i am sorry for you all, as well." maggie swallowed, taking a deep inhale. "my ear is always yours should you need it." there was a small beat of silence as she looked about the hall. "this place does not make dealing with such circumstances much easier, do they?"

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

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

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.

dacey held no ill will towards amir manderly. he, and his entire house, was trusted by owen, and that was good enough for her to trust them too, even if there was no personal ties to them. that was more her own fault than anybody else's. not for the first time in her life, she felt a pang of regret for the years she had spent shuttering herself away from the world.

but despite the fact that owen trusted him, despite the fact that she was, genuinely, pleased to see him safely returned home, despite the fact that not a single part of her felt any sort of negative feelings towards amir manderly, dacey felt herself tensing at his words, felt her fingernails begin to scrape at the freshly healed skin around her thumbs, and felt a flash of displeasure shoot through her that she didn't entirely know what to do with.

"contemplating?" she repeated, dully. "but likely to come to pass. am i correct?" if it did happen, it wouldn't be amir's fault. she had asked him a question, and he had answered it true. she could not place the blame at his feet for giving her an answer she had sought. and yet, to dacey's shame, this was something she had to remind herself of.

"it is not my safety that i'm concerned about." she was certain that amir meant the words kindly, but she felt herself bristle at them all the same, just a little. did he think her the type of woman who cared only for her own skin? "if there is to be war, then my brothers will fight in it. my sister, too, probably." her mind went to cassana, and the thought of it made her feel queasy. "i've no wish to see another stark go to the grave before their time." it was not just the starks. the north had seen far too much death and bloodshed. she was not ready to prepare herself for more.

❅

historically, amir of house manderly had maintained a healthy distance with the ladies of winterfell; which had come into greater use when they became princesses of the north. there was nothing questionable that they would have heard about him, nothing that was not written in those foolish pamphlets; meaning the king trusted him to speak with the princesses. he still did not maintain a closeness with them however, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised he never had.

"your highness." amir greeted, lowering his head before straightening back to his full height.

it only fed further into the thoughts that swirled in his mind, the thoughts of being the other in the north, the thoughts of not belonging and that they would always be this way. the ones to blamed, for their obvious power and wealth. he found himself wondering what this princess wanted. he did not want to hear talk of more grief, he did not want to talk about manal, or anything else; he did not want to talk about the grief that lingered over both of their houses.

because amir thought owen stark was in the right. because, when people were comfortable, they refused to change. to become better. the callouses on his hands were a sign of his own work ethic: his willingness to make himself uncomfortable. people did not do that unless you forced change upon them. his opinion was very much the minority in the realm though. "his grace remains contemplating, but it will not be as you think."

two sides meeting on a battle field. skagos was officially belonging to the north anyway; it was just about bringing them to heel. he did not want to go back there, but he would. he would rain down fury on all those who made him feel this way. like he did not belong - because he did not. "it will be on their front, rather than our own. you should be safe, princess."

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."