If There Was One Thing Dacey Knew How To Do, It Was Be Polite. Manners And Kindness Came To Her With

Audrey Hepburn as Sabrina Fairchild

Sabrina (1954) dir. Billy Wilder

dark half-moons had painted themself under dacey's eyes, a sure sign that she had slept very little in the nights leading up to this - the arrival of all who would see themselves as queen in the north, and the family members that came to support that ambition. she knew the north needed a queen, but more and more was she questioning owen's decisions. throwing the door open for all of westeros, bar a few notable exceptions, to throw their hat in the ring seemed to her like a recipe for disaster, but then, she had always been quiet and introverted. winterfell was her safest place, and though she were accustomed to guests, with it being the seat of a king, the idea of it being quite so full of strangers was not a pleasant one.

yet here she stood, in the courtyard, a smile laced with tension on her face as she greeted these invaders to her home. her hands were clasped before her, twisting around one another and betraying the anxiety she felt. owen's choice would be his own, but one that played on her mind, keeping her awake until the small hours as she carefully considered who she would see joining the wolves of winter.

and she did not think to see the distinctive sight of targaryen silver here. not in the north, given relations between owen and the king of new valyria were so fraught, but she quickly realised who it was. this must be the prince baelon, the son of rhaenyra, the black dragon the starks had once raised their banners for.

"your highness?" her voice was laced with uncertainty as she stepped forward to greet him. "welcome to winterfell, your grace. i trust the journey wasn't too difficult?"

Open starter

Where: Winterfell's Courtyard

When: Before the beginning of The Winter Ball, Baelon just arrived in Winterfell

Baelon did not mind the North. Actually, the only thing about it that bothered him was the cold, but he could deal with that. When he got the invitation from the King in the North to attend the event, he did not hesitate to accompany his sister. Baelon didn't want to let her attend alone, plus it was a good chance to get drunk without much judgement, it was a celebration after all. Along with that, the Starks were loyal to his mother to the very end and Baelon does not forget that. Even now, he believes that they did not forget their vows.

The trip had been a long and tiring one and Baelon could not wait to find his chambers, where a nice bed and a warm fire would be waiting for him. Winterfell was as beautiful as ever, the whole of the North was an incredible place, even though in his opinion, nothing would ever come close to his home of Dragonstone.

Baelon climbed down from his horse once they entered the courtyard of the castle. He handed the horse's lead to one of the servants that had come to meet him and his caravan, before nodding and thanking the young boy. Baelon paused for a moment, admiring his surroundings and observing who had already arrived in Winterfell. Not a familiar face, from what he could see. Although he failed to notice the figure approaching him.

dacey stark - a future au

quick links

style

home decor

career

vibes

school years

whilst the stark family have a long history, dacey was always quietly determined to make her own way in life. she did not have many friends in school, keeping her head down and getting on with her studies.

a straight a student, she did not involve herself in clubs or extra curricular activities, but spent a lot of free time volunteering for charities.

despite having a very small social circle, she dated hugo vance for a while in school, parting in college as they grew apart.

adult life

dacey went to medical school, and ended up becoming a doctor - specifically, a paediatrician who works in a children's hospital on a ward for long-term patients.

she still keeps to herself, living in a country cottage with her golden retriever, lily.

before starting her job at the hospital, she spent some time travelling to provide medical care for underprivileged children. it was on her travels she met safeerah jordayne, and they dated for six months before parting ways on good terms.

currently, dacey is in a relationship with ulises tarth, after being introduced by her brother, adam.

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.”

Augusten Burroughs

{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz }

"it's an artform i'm familiar with." there was a sort of quiet contemplation in dacey's expression. a hum of agreement at malee's words. "it is a kind of magic, i suppose." the magic, though, was in the fact that they were looking upon the fruit of someone's labour. the fields of gold and skies of blue clearly mattered to the weaver to pour such care into their creation, every thread a deliberate act of preserving a memory. to dacey, that told more of a story than any tales of battle and conquest.

"i think i favour it because it is so peaceful. there is no need for embellishments or ornamentation. it speaks for itself, and it is enough as it is." the battle piece demanded attention and awe, but this earned it, gently and quietly, it's true grandeur only revealed the more she looked at it.

or perhaps it was because dacey simply did not have the stomach for war and battle. so often, she heard people around her speak of the vision of peace, as though it was something they strove toward, only for it to be broken almost the moment they had it. "if only we could treasure peace whilst we have it, instead of relying on reminders when it is threatened."

her cheeks flushed. she didn't know why she said that. her throat cleared, and she readily jumped on the change of topic. "the stories tend to be that of our histories, as i'm sure yours tell your own. the weaves are quite different, though. northern tapestries are far heavier - the cold demands it. and the colours... it is rare to see a sky so blue past the neck, and we weave what we know." it had been a long time since she had seen white harbour, and she tried to recall what hung on the manderly's walls.

malee inclined her head at the winter princess' words, a soft smile playing at her lips. “you have an eye for it, your grace,” she said, her voice even and measured, though there was a warmth beneath it. “not everyone looks beyond the grand gestures to see the smaller threads that truly hold a piece together.” she gestured lightly toward the tapestry of the harvest. “it does seem to breathe differently, doesn’t it? as if it asks us to pause, rather than march forward.”

she let her fingers trail just above the fabric, careful not to touch the fragile threads. “it’s a kind of magic, weaving a story from nothing but wool and vision. there’s honesty in it, even when the tales themselves are embellished.” the soft hues of gold and blue seemed to glow in the dim light, a stark contrast to the crimson chaos of the battle scene.

the lady of the crag turned toward dacey, her expression thoughtful. “i admire your honesty, your grace,” she said after a pause. “it’s easy to speak of glory when surrounded by reminders of it.” her lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “but you’re right to prefer this one. it feels... truer, somehow. a reminder of what we fight for, even if it’s fleeting.”

she exhaled softly, almost to herself. “sometimes i wonder if we only appreciate peace once it’s become a memory.” there was a heavier meaning to her words, with the tension lingering in the air, kingdoms who held their own firm opinions, a dislike of what the lion king has decreed in his lands, it felt as if the small bit of peace had already come unraveled, a thread fastened with haste and a lack of care. "are tapestries so similar in the north? i mean, i imagine the stories are similar, but do you find the colors or weaves to be different here? i did not have the privilege of seeing the tapestries white harbor had to offer during our court's time there." she questioned, adding, almost wistfully, "i suppose that seems so long ago, now."

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?"

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.