The Frustration That Had Gripped Her Was Uncharacteristic, But When Amir Spoke Again, It Was Replaced

there was no retort from dacey's lips - merely a hum of agreement. she had always remained, two feet on the ground, whilst cyrene and jon scaled winterfell's walls. in many ways, that had not changed. she remained fixed in one spot, watching her siblings climb higher and higher until she could not see them anymore.

and it was always cyrene that she could count on to look down, look back, to wave at her from above and make dacey feel included still, until the day came when cyrene was gone. time and distance stretched between them, even as cyrene, for the first time in many, many years, took dacey's hand.

cyrene's question almost made dacey laugh. it was not a happy laugh, a scoff that she could be anything but well, but one of desperation, because for months now, it had felt like dacey was falling apart at the seams. the northern court had rearranged itself into something she barely recognised, defined by those missing from it, and she had taken it upon herself to try and bridge the chasms they left behind. she was not well.

and yet, her answer was a contradiction to that, to the dark circles under her eyes and red-raw fingers currently gripped in her sister's hand. "i am well," dacey responded, her voice surprisingly firm, full of conviction she did not feel. "you do not need to worry about me, cyrene." and there it was, the reason for the lie - dacey would not burden her family with what was hers to shoulder.

"i'm just tired and cold," she managed a smile then, and she tugged her hand back to tuck beneath her furs, the contact suddenly too much. "i stayed up too late and woke too early. i always do when the frosts start coming in." she paused. cyrene's past few years were spent in the riverlands, far to the south. "are you managing all right with the cold?"

"No snow would be enough to have you escape unscathed," Cyrene responded amused. Dacey had been a sickly child. Only one year older, Cyrene had been right there alongside her to watch her grow and survive. Sickness in the cold so rarely persevered but Dacey - she had been stronger than she gave herself credit for. Cyrene had seen strength in her slight sister and so, together with their brother Jon, she'd pulled her along into whirlwind adventures, despite Dacey's protests that called to caution.

Once upon a time, Cyrene had been a restless being, always moving, always running. Standing still had never been an option. Had it been with Jon or Dacey or Owen or Brandon - her heart and blood had been the same colour as her hair.

Her younger self would've been ashamed of her now. Stagnant and steadfast. She was ruthless now, mercilessly fighting for her children and her close ones, yes, but she no longer dared consequence to catch up to her. There was too much at stake now.

Cyrene stepped closer, suddenly and quickly, reaching out to grab her sister's cold hands. Tightly, though she made sure that the rings on her fingers, plentiful and equally as cold, did not bite into Dacey's skin.

"Sister," she spoke, voice dropping to a whisper. Reverent and urgent. "Are you well?" Are you safe? It went without saying. Dacey, as well as all her other siblings had denied her request to seek safety with her in the Riverlands. For a little while, there had been peace in the North. This time, when tensions were rising, Cyrene would not stay away.

dacey's gaze lingered on brandon, as though she were afraid if she looked away, he might fall into the snow once more. his self-deprecating humour might have worked to ease her worries in any other moment, but not then - not when she had seen the way he had swayed so precariously, not when she could still hear the strain in his voice as he tried to brush off what had just happened. it was as though she were looking at him through fresh eyes. she had not been blind to the fact he had been touched by grief and stress, but it was only now she noted just how heavy that burden seemed to be for him.

"it is care freely given," her voice remained as quiet as it had been, but with a resoluteness that was not common in dacey. she did not know if her persistence would be accepted, or if he would bristle at it. it was no small thing for a man who was the very picture of strength and stability to be caught in a moment of weakness. "even the strongest of trees can be toppled by a storm."

he seemed to be returning to himself, and that was a relief, and yet, she still moved to crouch slightly before him, until her gaze was level with his. she did not need to bend far. even seated, the height of him was obvious. "you're far from an old nan. there's life in you yet, lord karstark." the faintest semblance of a smile crossed her face, something that was both reassuring and that brushed away any lingering traces of her concern.

it was not the true north, but the mention of alysanne that had her finally pulling her gaze from him, eyes turning downward to look at the snow on the ground. it was rare to hear her name anymore, as though their lives had knitted over the space she had left, but she could still see where the threads didn't quite fit with the rest of the tapestry. she felt it - her absence, and what brandon had told her that she had done, even if she had still spoken it to nobody else.

"it's too much for any to carry alone. just one of those things would be enough." she hesitated, before perching on the spare space on the mounting block beside him. "if you do feel yourself faltering again, though, try and warn me first? i'm not sure my reflexes will be quick enough a second time. the first was pure luck." there was enough levity to her voice to make it sound like a joke, but under it all, she had no desire to see brandon karstark fall.

♞

brandon karstark felt the world tilt beneath him, a momentary dizziness that threatened to sweep his legs out from under him like the harsh winds of the wolfswood. his large, rough hand gripped the rough stone of the wall as though it might anchor him against the sudden betrayal of his body. the cold bit at his fingers through his gloves, but the sharp sting was grounding. he wasn’t sure what had come over him—a rush of blood, the cold, or the weight of all the whispers they’d spoken of. he’d been a fortress his whole life, and now, his knees trembled like a green boy’s after his first fight.

trembled the way they had the night his knees submitted to the snow, and he watched as the skies danced green above him.

then he felt her hand—small compared to his, steady and firm despite its lightness. dacey stark had moved to his side, her touch grounding him in a way his pride refused to acknowledge. her other hand hovered close, ready to catch him should he falter further. he cast her a sidelong glance, his lips opening into a faint, self-deprecating sigh. “princess, ye shouldn’t be wasting your care on me,” he rumbled, knowing that there would be nothing he could do to stop her. regardless of how brash he may have sounded, not in this moment. the warmth of her concern made him pause; for the briefest of moments.

“you’ve a steady hand, princess,” he murmured, his gruff voice softening just a touch. “might’ve toppled like a blasted pine without you.”

“bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rasping, an edge of frustration creeping into his tone. he swayed again, and his hand pressed harder against the wall, fingers curling against the icy stone for purchase. there was a nervous, dismissive chuckle that came from his lips, as though he were trying to move passed what had just occurred. “damned frailed body, i’ve stood through worse and now i'm out 'ere shakin' like an old nan in robes.”

his hand remained braced on his knee, the other gripping the edge of the block as though he still didn’t trust himself to stay upright. he chuckled then, a rough, bark-like laugh that seemed more to dismiss his embarrassment than to find true humor. “what a sight, eh? a karstark felled by nothin’ more than a spin of the head. gods be good.” still, the worry in her eyes lingered, and something about her steady presence made him relent. "maybe it’s all this talk of the true north," he admitted, his voice heavy. "or alysanne. what she was dabblin’ in… it’s the kind o’ thing that turns men’s stomachs and sets their thoughts adrift."

if there was one thing dacey knew how to do, it was be polite. manners and kindness came to her with ease - but that did not mean it was not hard to stifle a laugh at the sight of aleksander, donning the ornamented mask she had been allotted, with all it's fine embellishing. doubtless, aleksander would not mind her laughter, but she closed her eyes and pressed her lips together anyway, just for a second, to regain her composure. when she opened them again, though, she was still smiling. "you are far too kind." she meant that genuinely, before her expression turned more mischievous, a rare sight in the princess of winter. "but let's see what you win first, hmm? then we can decide who it should be inflicted upon."

"Apologies, your highness," Aleksander put on a faux solemn tone, hand placed over his heart before the mask was handed to him and he quickly fixed it in place. This ornate piece was heavier than the one he had originally worn. Perhaps this would aid them both in their disguise. A princess wearing a plain mask while a second son wore something ridiculously decorated. He snorted, then. "Don't know how welcomin' the mudmen will be towards symbols from the west. Might be close to the border but they're still northmen through and through." Nonetheless, he was not about to pass up a challenger. Never was, never would be. "I'll win a prize for you, m'lady. To take back to Winterfell." That they were more inviting to such things was no secret, it went unsaid.

― Albert Camus, A Happy Death

wherever she went, dacey stark did not dress to be seen. she garbed herself in the quietest tones she could find, because it was easier that way to keep herself on the sidelines, where she was comfortable. it had the opposite effect today - amongst the bright colours of the west, her gown of navy blue, trimmed with the grey of a hazy sky, only served to make her more visible that she had ever intended.

the call of her name had her head turning to face it, her shoulders holding a careful sort of restraint, and there was arron lannister, a man she knew only by name, and nothing more. her hands clasped before her, nail of her thumb tracing patterns on the skin of her index finger, the skin there already reddened as though this was not an unfamiliar habit for her.

"prince lannister," she greeted him, the smile on her face polite as she dipped into a brief curtsy. there was a look in his eyes that she could not place, and did not know what to do with. a lion's curiosity, perhaps. "it is us wolves who should be thanking you for your hospitality. you have been most gracious hosts." her words were quiet, as her voice usually was. her eyes flicked briefly to the crowd around them, but when she glanced back at arron, the lion's gaze had not strayed.

"if i may, my prince?" it was not like dacey to be bold, to ask things of others - but there may not be another chance. there was nobody else to ask. and so she did not wait for a response before speaking, a red flush in her cheeks and slight waver of her voice a dead giveaway to her hesitancy to do so. "i was wondering if i might ask of you a favour?"

she paused, shaking her head a little. "it is silly, really. it's only... your sister." she allowed the words to linger for a moment, not because she was trying to place any emphasis on them, only because she was trying to figure out what to say next. "we were friends. or at least, we were friendly with one another, during her time in the vale. i am not asking for you to tell me anything of her life now, or to ask her to write to me, or anything like that."

what was it dacey was asking for? she wasn't even sure she knew, anymore. "will you tell her that i send my regards?" she asked, wide eyes finding his in a way that betrayed the utter sincerity of her request. "and that i wish her the best."

who: @daceystvrk when: flashback, the westerlands event what: the open market

The marketplace in Lannisport was alive with celebration, its vibrant streets bursting with color and energy. Stalls lined the cobbled streets, draped in crimson and gold banners that fluttered in the sea breeze. Merchants shouted their wares—perfumed oils, finely crafted jewelry, bolts of rich fabric, and steaming trays of spiced meats. Musicians played lively tunes on pipes and drums, their melodies weaving through the hum of the crowd, while children darted between legs, laughing as they chased each other.

Prince Arron Lannister moved through the throng with a regal bearing that set him apart from the revelry. Clad in the finest Westerland fashion, he wore a doublet of deep crimson, its golden embroidery shimmering in the sunlight. A heavy cloak of gold-trimmed crimson hung from his broad shoulders, fastened with a lion-shaped clasp. His boots, polished to a mirror sheen, struck the cobblestones with purposeful strides. The crowd parted instinctively as he passed, whispers following him like a shadow. The Smiling Lion, they called him when they weren't warning the king's rage was on his way, though the faint curve of his lips held little warmth today.

His sharp green eyes swept over the market, taking in the faces of the gathered nobility and common folk alike. It was then that he spotted her—a figure draped in the cool, muted tones of the North, standing out starkly against the riotous colors of the West. Dacey Stark, the Princess of the North.

Arron’s expression didn’t change, but a flicker of curiosity lit in his eyes. The North and the Westerlands had never shared friendly relations, and the presence of a Stark at such a celebration presented opportunities Arron always searched out. “Princess Stark,” he greeted, his deep voice cutting through the bustle of the market like a blade. He inclined his head slightly, a gesture that was polite without being subservient. “The North graces Lannisport with its presence. I did not expect to see a wolf among lions today.”

He smiled then, though the glint in his eyes suggested the smile was less about warmth and more about probing curiosity. “How are you enjoying your time in the Westerlands?”

@asoiafsnet ‘s stark appreciation week

“the winters are hard, but the starks will endure. we always have.”

anybody else might have laughed at owen's story, but dacey, though amused, looked vaguely horrified. "how many pizzas are you eating in a week, owen?" she asked, making a mental note to set up a meal delivery plan for him the second she got back to norway. "you could always donate some to a shelter or something. at the very least, it'll clear out your freezer." and also save his cholesterol levels.

sibling catch ups like this were far too few and far between. they'd all been so busy with their own lives, but it was nice to take a moment that was just for each other, no matter how overdue it was. she did her best, but it never quite felt like she was doing enough to show her support.

"life's good," she confirmed. "ulises has moved in." she'd never been sure she could see herself living with someone. for dacey, it was a big step. "everything else is basically the same. work keeps me busy. you should come by the hospital when you have time. there's a little boy on the ward who loves rugby, and he didn't believe you're really my brother," she smiled at the thought, shaking her head a little bit. "what about you? what's new in your life?"

who: @daceystvrk where: school gym notable deets: staaaaaark

"So, they said that if I can get them to a million likes I get life long freeze pizza. And when I realized it as like 400 calories for the whole pizza I was like well, I'll just eat as many pizzas as I can in my underwear and that's how I got free pizza for life but I'm a little sick of pizza."

Owen pulled his hair back away from his face as he caught up with his sister. He liked to visit her whenever he could and she came to games when she could, it was a good balance for them. The Starks were many but they were all very busy and even when Owen wasn't busy, he was always traveling because he could. He worked hard for his own money, ignoring the healthy trustfund from his family, and he wanted to spend his money in the best ways. What was the use in having so much if you wanted to die with the same amount?

"Tell me about things, how 's life be, doctor lady?"

dacey nodded her head. "that's sensible, i think." there was certainly wisdom in keeping the search private. a political struggle was the last thing that the north needed, and to have it publicly known that owen was looking for a queen could certainly cause such a thing. for now, he had the luxury of time. "a weakness?" she wasn't an unintelligent woman, but perhaps a little naive in the ways of the world. she was here, though, and she was trying to understand a little better, trying to be useful in the best way she could.

for so much of her life, she had seen owen as a pillar of strength. perhaps it was unfair of her to have built such an image of him, but it had been there for almost as long as she had known how to draw breath. when she looked at him now, for the first time she could see cracks in that infallible image. she could see that he was tired, and wished that she could tell him to rest.

"i can't disagree with you." there was so much logic in what he was saying. nasir manderly made sense. she did not doubt his capabilities. on paper, he was the best person for the job. but this was not a conversation dacey ever thought she would be having - not just because she had traditionally been reticent about offering her opinion to him about matters of the kingdom, believing she had little wisdom to offer, but because she never could have foreseen a time when the kingdom would need a new hand.

when she glanced up, owen was looking at her, and their eyes met. there was something else behind his, something he was not telling her - but then, there were things she was not telling him, too. she wanted to tell him that he could speak to her of anything, but how could she without feeling like a hypocrite? "are you all right, though?" her brows raised. "i'm not... talking about the north or the hand or the queen. if there's ever anything you want to talk to me about..." she trailed off. she could not finish the sentence.

And his sister was kind, but many and more would have something to say about him looking for a new wife too soon. It would not be the queen of the Vale but perhaps the people. And the smallfolk had grown to love their queen. They loved that the queen didn't bring her seven, whispers he heard himself. They loved a queen that protected them with her own laws, giving their daughters places, places he would have to somehow maintain. It would not go over well.

"Of course, I will not advertise this search. Some will make their plans to put those women before me. And then there will be others who hope to see it as a weakness." Owen shrugged his shoulder, his fingers dragging over his dark hair. He was very tired and sleep abandoned him at every turn. Like the sister with whom he shared a womb. And now she was gone. Again.

"Nasir is the best choice. He understands the need for growth, very old friend." Fostered with the man. Their houses would one day be joined. He looked at her, there was more that was needed and he was uncertain if his sister was ready for everything. There would be marriages, conflicts, and more resistance. Owen didn't want another war. Next time he would cut the head off the snake and burn the body. Cousin branches were far more useful anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"must be the jet lag," her own grin betrayed the fact she was being about as serious as he was. it was true that dacey was a classic introvert, leaving social gatherings early more often than nod and endlessly glad that her job gave her a convenient out. it was different with ulises, though. he anchored her in a way, and it was easy to tune out the crowds that surrounded them and carry on as though they were both back at home in their own little world.

she'd not quite mastered spanish, though she was trying to learn, but she knew enough that she understood what he said perfectly, her cheeks tinging a light shade of pink. "so do you," came the simple response, before pulling out her wallet to tuck the pictures carefully inside, on top of a photograph of her dog that was beginning to look ragged around the edges. "are you sure? we don't have to." despite giving him the out, she allowed him to lead her back into the booth, squashing herself onto the tiny bench beside him. she slid a coin in to start the camera, and turned to him as the countdown began. instead of facing the screen and smiling, this time she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and waited for the flash to go off.

“Getting tired already?” he asked with a playful smile. Ulises it was more likely she just simply blinked, but then again, being in this sort of big event with so many people could be somewhat draining. His own social battery was still holding up, but he knew that in a couple of hours, he'd need to either step back for a bit or suggest they left altogether if Dacey was also feeling okay to leave then.

“Te ves hermosa,” he murmured without thought, just looking at the four little images of them. It was true that her eyes were closed in the last one, but her smile remained. She looked so serene, so happy. It made him feel endlessly fortunate to be able to play some part in Dacey's happiness like that. “Yeah, you can keep it,” he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Let's take another one,” Ulises suggested, taking her hand in his and guiding her back inside the booth.