Closed Starter For @intothewylde

TRUTH SERUM

feel free to ask anything, in character or anonymously, and my character will be forced to answer truthfully.

Send a question to: dacey - devani - norbie - minty - conall - halima - ben - tion - elia

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?”.

apologetically myself

"a fresh start, then." it felt odd to offer a fresh start to a man who she barely knew, who aside from shared grandparents was essentially a blank slate, but dacey was glad to offer it. there was no offence to be taken by either party, no perceived snub to try and overcome. she did not know, if a familial connection was what she was looking for, if she'd find that in lucius rivers, but she also knew that it would not sit right with her to overlook his existence. the circumstances of his birth did not alter the fact she shared just as much blood with him as with any of his siblings.

his words were coarse, but dacey laughed anyway. "it was something," she found herself agreeing. "it couldn't end soon enough. i was more than glad to take my leave of it." it had been too hot, too smelly, too much of everything for dacey, too used to the quiet of winter and her own company.

"i'm sure they would, and i'm very grateful for it, but i hope not to intrude too long." this was a necessary stopover, not a planned visit, and she could not help but think that her presence was more of a burden than a pleasure. "does it please you?" she did not know where the question came from, but it had spilled from her lips before she could bite it back.

Lucius Rivers was bound by blood to House Stark, and yet he had nowhere near as close a bond to them as his brother and sisters did. Some of the Stark pups had been fostered in the Riverlands, some made it a point to spend time in the company of their kin, but the bastard of Raventree Hall had never engaged enough to feel a true familial bond if he were honest.

Dacey Stark was much too fragile in his mind, a quiet and reserved young woman who lacked the grit he'd seen in other Northern folk. Her company wasn't disagreeable, though, if only because she was one of the few who regarded him as she were regarding any other of the true-blooded Blackwoods. “No apology is needed. I did not seek your company or that of your siblings while in King's Landing, so that makes us even,” the Riverlander stated plainly. “That fucking place was a nightmare,” he found himself agreeing in less cordial language than Dacey's. Fuck diplomacy now, there was no lizard king or lords to offend in earshot.

“You're welcome to visit anytime you like, Dacey. I'm sure Ben and Maggie would gladly welcome you anytime you wished to visit,” the man assured her, for it was his brother and sister who made all the choices about their house, not the hag who clung to the title of Lady of Raventree Hall. “Or if you hope to extend this visit. It pleases them to have cousins around”.

the northern court was no stranger to upheaval, usually riding on the back of tragedy. dacey had learned that nothing was permanent - but there were some things that she had never anticipated changing. brandon karstark’s position was one of those immutable things, so guaranteed that she had never thought of a world were he was not owen’s hand. but the old gods had shown her the folly of thinking in certainties, and caused yet another seismic shift that left the pair of them on shaky ground. 

she could not find it in her to throw up a wall between them, to act as though he was nothing to the starks but a bannerman of the north. he deserved better than that. but neither could she bring herself to acknowledge what he had been through. dacey was not a worldly woman. her life had been touched by loss, but not like this. she did not have the words to try and empathise or offer comfort, and she was cautious enough to recognise that even if she had, they may not be welcome from her. 

she was not owen stark, the similarities between she and her brother few and far between, but her loyalty to him was another of those certified facts that couldn’t be shaken. even when his actions did not align with what she would do, she trusted that he knew best. 

she could not say the words that darted around in her head, so she thought them, as though if she willed them into existence hard enough, the sentiment would somehow reach him, and brandon would know. thank you for my sister. i’m sorry this is how things ended up. i wish i could change it for you. you deserve better.

and then there was alys. another circumstance she couldn’t understand, but in this, dacey felt a little less helpless to act. she could not explain where her older sister was, did not know if her disappearance was connected to word from dorne, but there was something inside her that told her that she would not see alysanne stark again. what she could do was lessen the gap that she had left behind. for owen. for the north. 

“thank you,” her voice was little more than a whisper, the soft tones one might use to try and calm a snarling wolf. “i appreciate any help you can offer.” she would have understood if he refused her, but was endlessly glad that he had not. they still felt as though they were in unfamiliar territory with one another, but they could still hold eye contact over the chasm that stretched between stark and karstark. they were not lost to one another yet. 

“i’ve been trying to organise my sister’s things.” she did not feel the need to explain which sister, trusting that brandon could infer which stark princess she was talking about. “trying to… help, i suppose. be useful.” this was irrelevant to why she was here, a delayal of what she had come to speak about. 

she shifted on her feet, uncomfortable, hands tightening on the strap of the leather satchel she had brought with her. she didn’t know exactly what she was carrying, but there was an uneasy feeling that came when she looked at them, merely thought about them. she could have simply cast them aside, but something nagged at the back of her mind, telling her there was more to this than she could possibly know. 

“i came across some things i don’t really understand.” she admitted. “and i thought out of everyone, you might. understand, i mean.” she reached into the satchel, withdrawing from it a stack of papers neatly bound in twine, covered with alys’ own hand, and holding them out to brandon. there was more where that came from, books and items that made the back of her hair stand on end, but this was a start. 

“i don’t like the feeling i get when i look at them.”

♞

all knew that brandon karstark was no longer the hand of the winter king - and it did not require the extensive intelligence of a maester to grasp the reasons why. the murder of lady meera reed at the hands of jin renshu had spread around the northern court, and even beyond it, like wildfire: the same way the flames had spread through the ancient trees of the heart tree. somewhere, he had come to the deep acknowledgement that there would need to be a balance in the world following such an action - the gods would have cast their backs on him.

if that meant the princess cassana stark was freed of the ropes that bound her beneath it in the chaos, then surely it would be considered worth it? right?

there had been disappearances, two; seeming to have happened on the very same day. the world of ice and the world of the sun had each lost an important member of their court, if the reports from the dornish was to be considered true: and he could not help but feel his stomach drop at the idea that they could have somehow been linked. the princess had accompanied brandon karstark to yule within the land of rivers for the celebrations, though in their journey there he had found something out.

witnessed something about her choices, which she had remained firmly in favour of. something about the disappearance seemed to settle badly in his gut, the idea that it was beyond the actions of humans - who, even in themselves, remained wicked. he knew this went beyond it - meaning, he also knew there was little they could do to retrieve her. princess dacey of house stark had been told to step into the duties of her sister, as the world needed to continue to spin - and brandon found himself weary of speaking and involving himself in the family.

but how could he not, when they had grown together as kin? his recent fracture with the king did not mean all the starks would no longer trust him. there was no reason they should not trust him. "yer highness." brandon greeted, his hand resting on his chest in an action of humbleness; not on the council, but still a subject. "i will do all i can." were his words in response; different to what he once would say. brandon was very much aware that there was only two karstarks left in the world: the cold winter had taken the babies their mother had once birthed. sickness, disease.

"what worries you, princess?"

the idea that owen and the targaryen king would make nice with one enough was enough to bring a small laugh to dacey's lips. "i very much doubt it, but i suppose stranger things have happened." she didn't like to speak for her brother, and more often than not had little insight to offer, but on this, at least, she felt confident. "i don't really know the whys of it all. why we went there," she confessed. "if i had to guess, i would say it was probably more about who else would be there than the man of the hour."

she nodded, his amplifying her respect for him. "such is the lot of an older sibling." she had enough siblings herself that she understood how it worked, being both an older sister and a younger one herself. "they're lucky to have you." it was not an empty compliment. as much as she would not bring it up, there was no escaping the fact his cousin was a bastard, and life would not be as kind to him as to his siblings for that simple fact. and yet, a bond still seemed to exist between lucius and his kin, and that was something she found commendable.

"you're not the worst company i've ever had." she shrugged. she'd no doubt that he was capable of rubbing people up the wrong way, but she'd yet to be offended. she didn't even really feel all that self-conscious, which was a feat within itself. "i'm rather enjoying it, actually. if you wish to make things unpleasant, you might have to try a little harder than you initially planned." there was an honesty to the way he spoke that she appreciated. there had been little of that in king's landing, and she had grown weary of trying to decipher the difference between what people said and what they meant.

Lucius knew that perhaps he ought to say something about the losses endured by House Stark. Say something for the sibling that was recently buried, or the sister that had gone missing. He didn't truly feel sorry, however. He had no ill will, he simply had never gotten to know Jon or Alysanne at all. They had been strangers to him. So he didn't utter any condolences for they would have been superficial, insincere words. Even Dacey, who was just getting to know him, would have detected the lack of truth.

“Your brother is seeking to make good with the dragon king?” he inquired, curious to know what was the North's vision of the recent crowning. The realms were no longer Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule and had not been for years, and yet they all dragged themselves to the old capital to kiss ass and play nice with the dragon folk. “I admit I had little desire to travel there myself, but where my siblings go, I go. Someone needs to keep an eye on them”. Especially in a place where he trusted no one.

Lucius glanced sideways, looking at Dacey briefly as they walked. “Fret not, I'll be quicker than you in making my company unpleasant,” he half-joked in return, certain that she'd be the one escaping his company eventually, not the other way around, since the Stark princess was evidently a sweet person. The bastard knew he wasn't a likable man and never really bothered to make himself so. Polishing his manners in that way had never been something his father cared about. Samwell never sought to make a proper lord out of him, after all.

outside the sept, dacey lingered, internally cursing herself for even ending up here in the first place. it could all have been avoided had she just opened her mouth, had not feared embarrassing her attendant and said nothing, instead meekly exiting the carriage when they had brought her here. they had been all too eager to help when she had mentioned wanting to pray that morning, assuring her they would take her where she needed to go, but instead of the godswood, they had brought her here, to a sept she had no place stepping foot in. hers were the nameless gods of the trees and wind and water, but such a thought did not seem to cross the mind of those native to king's landing.

there was nothing for it but to wait for the carriage to return. it would surely do so when the service had finished, only, dacey had no idea exactly how long these sermons could be. how long did septons speak for? what was there even to speak about? it seemed such a complicated way to worship, convoluted by song and scripture when compared to the silent, simple way of prayer she was used to. she were far too timid to use this time to explore the city, and so remaining awkwardly hovering on the steps was her only option.

the door opened, and dacey's head turned, relief flooding her that it was finally over - only it wasn't. it was not a crowd of worshippers who flooded through them, but a single woman. dacey knew that she should look away, but as was always the case when there was something you knew you should not look at, she could not stop her gaze drifting back to the woman.

and the woman noticed. when she spoke, dacey turned her attention to her fully, her expression part-sheepish, and part-apologetic. "oh, no, no, that's very kind..." she began, promptly breaking off when she got a proper look at her face. her heart immediately softened. even if there were not shining tracks on her cheeks where she had failed to completely swipe them away, dacey would have recognised the expression on her face immediately, the look of someone desperately trying to hold it together when the walls were caving in.

"i'm sorry, i know it is not my business," and it wasn't. she had clearly exited the sept to find solace in the solitary, did not need dacey prying into matters that had clearly stirred something emotional within her, and yet, dacey could not help herself. empathy stirred within her. she did not know this woman, but neither would she leave her to suffer, alone and in silence. "but are you all right? silly question," she immediately chastised herself. "but can i get anything for you? some water?"

who: @daceystvrk when and where: semi-flashback to the gathering in kings landing, naelys finally meets her years long penpal...all by chance. context: despite once being betrothed to adam, nellie and dacey never had the opportunity to meet. until now.

there were far more seven pointed stars adorned across the majestic, rebuilt halls of the red keep; though what surprised her more was the fact that influence had also spread beyond the halls of the keep and into the streets of the capital. she had been perched upon the velvet recliner beside the stained glass within the velaryon apartments; and when she saw a procession in the distance she was surprised to find it a collection of followers of the faith, adorned in robes of white and with chains and maces in their hands.

they seemed to be whipping themselves, and it was all she could think of as she clutched her hands together in this grand sept, standing side by side with members of her family and her court. why would these people do such harm to themselves, and for what purpose?

the septon seemed to continue to hurl down word after word, and for a while she was managing to ignore it and focus on the vividness of the colours on the glass. that was until the nature of the words thrown from the pulpit began to change, and it were words referring to the sins of lust and fornication that caught her attention. not like a hook, but rather like the feeling of a hand gripping her neck and forcing her to look. and suddenly she found herself listening, half aware that most of the sept would believe the septon was alluding to the oldest of the velaryon sisters - and even that naelys found inherently cruel. it felt as though they were standing, and there was a flame directly over them.

and he felt like he could see right through her, and see the memories of her braavosi perfume and her purple bedsheets. and his eyes, or the sound of her laugh mixing with his own.

she quietly muttered something about excusing herself and finding there were too many people, all but pushing by vhaenessa and deimos as she kept her hands clasped together as she walked; the doors seemed as though they were moving further and further away, and the walls were collapsing in. people knew naelys struggled with packed places and loud noises, or at least she prayed they did. she picked up her pace and let the door slam behind her, not knowing if any saw the slight tears that were sprung to her amethyst eyes.

they were not subtle, they were pools that swum, and threatened to finally fall. and fall they did as she let it in a short inhale of air, wiping her cheeks with the back of her sleeve.

it was not until she turned around and saw another dark haired figure standing outside did she realise she was not alone in standing outside of the sept doors. she momentarily froze, wiping her cheeks one more time in defeat. the lady had seen her. "are you waiting for somebody?" naelys asked, still feeling some wetness on her cheeks as she remained fixed in place. she did not know what to say. "i can go back in and get them for you."

closed starter for @ulises-tarth location: at the fair

"i think i had my eyes closed for that last one," dacey admitted, leaning against the outside of the photobooth as she waited for the little strip of pictures they had just taken to develop. it had seemed like a fun, cute idea at the time, but almost immediately as she had stepped into the cramped booth, she had been unsure how to pose, what to do with her face, where to put her arms, and she was sure that they'd just taken nearly four identical photos.

the strip finally printed, and she picked it up, gingerly, careful not to smudge it before it dried. "yep. see? eyes closed." she sighed a little, before a smile came over her face. "i like the first picture, though." in it, ulises was facing the camera, but dacey wasn't, her chin upturned to instead look at him. she looked happy. "do you want this, or can i keep it?"

willow moreno & her glasses :’)