As Much As Dacey Did Not Enjoy Large Groups, She Did Enjoy Speaking With People. Moreso With People She

dacey let out a breath she had not realised she was holding. she knew little of arron lannister, her nerves at being here in his domain, in the west, were already in overdrive, and she had not fully realised how much they had amplified simply by asking something of him. but it was the softening of his expression, the way his demeanour shifted just slightly, that had some of that anxieties easing.

even so, she knew not what to make of it. wherever she went, she feared the weight of scrutiny, of being weighed and measured and found to be lacking. she had felt it when he approached, whether it was true or not, but the sharpness he had approached with had dulled around the edges, and she found herself grateful for it.

"i am sure she does," she said, quietly, and there was no judgement or mockery in it, simply an acknowledgement of what could not be ignored. "but i am glad to hear that she is doing well. i have often wondered." she could not pinpoint the moment they had began to drift apart, whether it had happened when rowan arryn had died, or if it was already in motion before. it was as though dacey had looked around one day, and realised it had already happened.

she hesitated when he enquired as to their closeness, fingers tracing idle patterns on her palm. it was difficult to say - if they had been close, would they have ended up here? would that not have meant something lasting? "i don't know," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "not as close as i would have liked to be, i think."

she let out a cough, a small sound to clear her throat, and the small smile on her face turned rueful. "that is probably my own doing," she explained. "it is... difficult for me to get close to people." she did not expand on the point, though it should have been obvious enough, her bearing and stature that of a woman who took little pleasure in being noticed, who shrank when called upon to be social with those who she did not know.

"but guinevere was kind to me," she added, her thumb rubbing circles in the palm of her other hand. "she was... someone to speak with when i needed it. i do not know if she knows how much i appreciated her."

Arron’s sharp gaze softened, just for a moment, when Dacey spoke of his sister. The sincerity in Dacey’s eyes pulled at something buried beneath the hard exterior he wore. His emerald green eyes studied her, assessing her words with the same scrutiny he gave everything, though her request seemed to catch him off guard.

His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was something quieter, something more contemplative. He’d seen that look before—the wide eyes, the hesitant voice. His sister, for all her bravado, had never been good at letting people get close. She had too many walls, too many layers that even he couldn’t break through. But here was someone who cared.

"My sister is doing well," Arron replied, his voice a bit more measured than it had been before, betraying a softness he had not intended. He cleared his throat lightly, his posture straightening as he considered the way forward. "She has... her challenges, but she’s well. I’m sure she’ll appreciate hearing that you send your regards."

The offer of a favour lingered in his mind, and as he watched Dacey, a thought crossed his mind—an idea that could perhaps create the opportunity for the two women to reconnect. The thought of orchestrating a meeting between them, however indirect, seemed like a small chance to give his sister the companionship she needed without forcing the issue. He could easily arrange for them to meet, though neither of them would likely suspect his involvement. A quiet, gentle way of nudging both toward something that might ease the isolation that hung around his sister.

His expression softened as he spoke again, his voice quieter now, not as sharp as before. "Were you close?" he asked, though the question hung in the air with more curiosity than anything else. He didn’t ask out of a need for gossip; no, he wanted to understand.

dacey did her best to look put together, but she was by no means a fashionable person. what she called timeless, others would call boring, her outfit choices always perfectly fine, in a classic sort of way, but very safe. she was a creature of habit, and she very much stuck to what she knew.

it was why she was grateful for lucrezia, someone to bounce ideas off and tell her if she was too boring, or too out there, or not quite on theme. it was going to be an important night, and it was one of the rare times dacey was putting a concentrated effort into what she was going to wear.

"i honestly don't think so," she mused, looking up from the ipad she was using to scroll pinterest and see what outfits other had put together. none felt quite right for her, though many were lovely. "she might hint at it, but there's a pattern. whenever she puts an album out, she does two re-records the year after. so i think reputation will be next year, at the earliest. it would be too soon to announce it."

her mouth opened in a small 'o' shape, and she nodded her head. "oh, i love the august dress. it's so dreamy." she moved back to the search bar, typing in 'taylor swift august dress' and scrolling through the various colour options until she found one she thought would work with her complexion. "what colour were you thinking? we should all wear a different one, i think. just so we look a little different to one another."

who: @daceystvrk

there was serious business afoot within the hotel room of dacey stark; various sketches on a table, and a few ipads with different pinterest pictures and links being pulled up. the girls had a special night to plan for having obtained tickets for closing night in london; and it was agreed they would wear folklore inspired outfits.

"do you think she'll announce reputation? we've been wrong multiple times now. what is it, like four?" lucrezia asked, a glow of genuine excitement coming over her face as she peered over the pinterest screen, scrolling down almost mindlessly, trying to find something.

"the vault tracks will be so good too." she looked up at dacey, a third chair vacant for when feray would be able to join them. she checked her phone for any texts from their third missing member, wanting to ensure she did not ghost on feray. "are you thinking a dress? you'd look lovely in the august dress."

dacey nodded in understanding, in agreement with feray's assessment of king's lading. she hadn't much enjoyed it there, either, save for a few moments in between that had painted a genuine smile on her lips. "i was certainly glad to be home," the words were out before she could really think about them, for as much as she had been looking forward to leaving the city, to coming back to winterfell, so much had changed that she wasn't really sure she was all that glad at all.

house stark was not the only northerners to have suffered during the war, a fact dacey was all too keenly aware of. it had took from them all, leaving all with scars that couldn't, wouldn't, heal, and dacey did not think many had lost quite so much as feray locke. and yet she stood here still. offering condolences for yet another tragedy. death had followed them for far too long. it was inevitable that today, it would once again make its presence known, an uninvited straggler they couldn't ignore. the late queen's absence was heavily felt - as was the loss of the eldest princess of the north.

"thank you," she murmured, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. she was grateful for the sentiment, but it did not feel like her condolences to receive. "it is her children's grief i think of. theirs, and my brother's."

it was a dreadful thing, to see children lose their mother, made all the more bittersweet that she had for the smallest babe she had brought into the world. "it is a strange thing," she admitted. "i can only hope the sadness does not follow her much longer into her life." it was a terrible burden for a child, for their whole existence to be tied to death from the moment they entered the world. "i don't know which is worse," she was largely thinking out loud, her words unfiltered in the presence of one she trusted. "to die without ever having the chance to know who your child will become, or to be the child left behind."

despite their familarity, she dipped into a curtsy as dacey entered the room. "of course not, princess." feray had called the woman 'her highness' in the past, but as they had grown closer through the years then it seemed too formal. yet it still felt wrong to just outright call her dacey, so the lady of house locke usually eased herself into it by first acknowledging her title. "your visits are always welcomed." it was mostly true. feray did truly enjoy seeing her friends. they were a balm to the wounds life had inflicted on her in the past year. but it was also difficult to put on a mask and pretend all was well. she was healing but only slowly. and the starks had a tendency to remind her of the war. but her heart was lighter today so she did not have to fake the smile on her lips. "it was good to see old friends again but there was too much brutality in king's landing. the valyrian way of life would not suit me." she had not seen them fight but she had prayed for the gladiators. it seemed an unusual cruelty to make them fight in front of a crowd. she had heard of some of the injuries inflicted, how some of them resulted in death.

but she was acutely aware that she was not the only one of them who had experienced loss and uncertainty. "i was sorry to hear of your family's loss, dacey." she really had been. feray was not close to the royal family. house locke had always allied themselves with house manderly, so while they still answered to house stark then the royal house seemed even farther removed from them. but queen rosalyn had been known for her kind and gentle nature, the loss of such a soul was a heavy one. "her grace will be missed by the north but our grief pales to that of yours." she thought of the children that would grow up without their mother, of the king that was no longer a husband. "it must be difficult to come to grips with death and a new life at the same time." it was the cost many women paid for new life, the cost she had been warned that she would likely pay one day. she always felt a cold shiver down her spine when she heard of women dying in childbirth. it always ended up feeling like a warning of what was to come.

dacey somehow completely lost track of what the camera was doing. she knew she was laughing in the second picture, and thought they might have been kissing by the fourth, but it was truly anyone's guess. she barely even registered that their little photoshoot was finished, not until she pulled away from the kiss and realised the screen had once again darkened. "those ones were better, i think." she took a moment to straighten her hair, make sure her lipstick was still in place, and reached out to wipe a tiny smudge of it from the corner of his own mouth before standing, holding her hand out for him to take so she could help him stand, too.

stepping out of the booth, dacey saw the second round of pictures had already been printed, picking up the strip and taking them in with a smile before offering it to ulises to look at. "see? much better. we just needed to practice."

her gaze swept around the fair, noting familiar faces, and those that were less familiar. "did we really go to school with this many people?" she mused out loud. "it didn't seem like so many at the time. though i suppose some of the people here are just guests, aren't they?"

Flying all the way from Norway to come here had given him a bit of a let lag too in the past couple of days, though he'd slept well enough the previous night to not feel that weariness right now. In any case, that excuse could give them an out to leave anytime they wanted. He rubbed the small of Dacey's back tenderly. With that touch and just a glance, he could communicate that they were okay to leave whenever she wished. But who knew, perhaps his own social battery would end before hers.

“I'm sure. Come on,” he said with a nod, confirming he really was eager to take some more pictures with his girlfriend. With their first set of pictures safely tucked inside Dacey's wallet, they were back in for another round of photos inside the booth. Ulises wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer. He felt Dacey's kiss on his cheek, which immediately made him grin for the first picture. Ulises allowed himself to be a little sillier and have fun with her, winking at the camera for the second picture. He turned to look at her for the third one, just pausing there. Ulises looked at her with so much warmth and adoration in his eyes, but that look wasn't for the camera, it was just for Dacey. His free hand moved up, slipping to the back of her neck and he leaned in to kiss her. He had no clue at what point the fourth picture was taken.

there was truth to owen's words. anything was possible, and if there was any proof of that, the starks were it. for good and for ill. it was the ill that worried her. the fear of the unknown sent a shudder down dacey's spine that she struggled to suppress. "plenty of things have come to pass that neither of us could have seen coming." she chose her words slowly and deliberately, with a warning laced between them. there would be plenty more that she wouldn't see.

there was a faith in her abilities owen seemed to possess that dacey herself did not. she had never seen herself as smart and capable, but if owen needed her to be so, she would try to be. for a brief second, her mind flicked back to childhood, to little-girl-dacey who was all to eager to lend a helping hand to anybody in need. that thirst to be useful had never quite gone away, even if it had dulled somewhat as the years drew by.

her melancholy was washed away by owen's proclamation. it was enough to draw a small laugh from her. "of course, your grace," she addressed him playfully. "though the crown lends it a little more weight, no? regardless, whatever you need of me, it will be done."

The King smiled at her joke, chuckling a bit as he continued to eat and drink the black beer, strong and hearty, exactly what a man in the North needed. It was nice to take a moment to feel light when he was with his family. Their life was a heavy one, so many would talk about the joys of royalty and everlasting existence in the written text of the Wisdoms who now tracked their history.

The loss of Jon was not one he prepared himself for though he should have seen it coming. Truthfully he'd expected it to be him or Adam to die in some fight before any of the rest, even Alys on some level. He believed too strong in Cass' speed for her to ever die before him or get captured. Jon, he always thought Jon too smart and to witty to get captured or die. He would know how to get out of anything and perhaps he did in the hands of one more reasonble.

Alas, ransoming was a game of southron lords. In the North you were taken and rarely were your bones even returned. Given to the old Gods, the most pious of them secretly filling their trees with the entrails of their enemies as they did on Skagos. Owen took another drink, clearing his mind and focusing on his sister as she started to speak again. "You may find yourself even more capable than Jon, anything is possible sister. In fact, I never thought there would be another warg king and yet." He gestured, "one sits before you, Stark and all." He smiled at her.

"You're smart and you're capable. We all have our own strengths. You will see things Jon could have never seen and think them as well. Don't aim to be Jon, be yourself, sister, and all will be well. I believe in you. And I'm your big brother which makes my world law with or without the crown."

Sylvia Plath, from The Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath; "Three Women,"

it felt as though there were a dark cloud gathering around dacey stark more often than not these days, the unbearable pressure of an oncoming storm weighting her down. the lingering worry was a constant companion, but in the days since king's landing, it had grown teeth, tearing at her from the inside out. was she the only one to see it? sometimes, it certainly seemed that way.

but not tonight. there was a certain joviality in the air, and it was catching. she was still nervous to be in the west, but here, at least, she had managed to leave her anxieties behind her, and do something that was not the norm for the princess of winter - she was managing to enjoy herself. her sister was still missing. the northern schism still made it's presence known. and yet, tonight she had smiled more, laughed more, enjoyed the company of aleksander karstark, whose friendship remained thankfully untainted despite having every reason to crumble.

aleksander was not the only karstark who had her attention tonight. more than once, she had seen brandon amongst the crowds, and when her dark eyes glanced over him, she could have sworn he was looking at her, too. she did not approach him. brandon karstark had taken measures to put distance between himself and winterfell, and though their last conversation was never far from her thoughts, she would respect that.

she did not need to. when dacey found herself standing alone, lingering on the edge of the merriment, it was brandon karstark who approached her, and when he spoke, dacey smiled, tentative and encouraging, one hand reaching to tuck back a stray lock of her hair. "hello, lord karstark."

perhaps she should have been wearier to speak with him, paying more heed to the divisions his absence had created. the true north, they called it, and that scared her, uncharted territory for the place she called her home. she had never thought to see brandon and owen on separate sides, the figureheads of factions that sat in opposition to one another, but it had happened. and yet, she did not feel any trepidation, nor unease.

"he has," she confirmed, a quiet laugh accompanying the words. "but i think we can forgive him that, just this once." aleksander's attention was firmly fixed upon the girl he had taken to the dancefloor, and dacey would not begrudge him that. he deserved to enjoy himself, and she would not confine him to the sidelines with her.

but then, a hand was extended, without words, but the intent was clear. he was inviting her to dance. and dacey did not think, did not stop to consider whether it was the right thing to do or not. if she had, perhaps she would not have placed her hand in his, fingers curling around his own, and let him lead her to the dancefloor.

"i should warn you," she laughed again, but this time, at her own expense. "i've always been a terrible dancer."

who: @daceystvrk when and where: lann's day, the westerlands

how it was he had been able to identify the individual behind the mask was something he did not entirely understand, nor contemplate, nor think too much on: his gut instinct seemed to only indicate toward being moved to stand in her presence. perhaps because his warm, grey gaze moved to meet her own multiple times whilst he were in conversation, or whilst she was in conversation with his own younger brother – and he knew who aleksander had planned on accompanying to the lann’s day festivities that evening. 

still, he knew not what seemed to pull him in her direction; only that at one point, he seemed to have blinked, and he found himself stood before her – goblet of ale still within one of his hands. “princess.” his voice was rough, his karhold accent remaining wrapped around it: if she did not already know who he was, that simple word would have been enough to give it away in an instant. 

whatever pull, or invisible string, that seemed to have slowly begun to weave was one he did not understood nor fully acknowledge yet at this point: but their whispered conversation regarding the extent of the activities the princess alysanne had taken part in that fateful night in the woods seemed to have bound them in some way. did she know there was something he was not entirely comfortable speaking of yet?

did he want to burden her with discussions of her missing sister, when the idea of celebrating and allowing themselves to be swept into southern revelry still felt entirely wrong when one of the pack was missing? 

unaccounted for; no closure, for any questions that lingered. but what was he to do? there were enough rumours regarding him, and the stance of the karstarks as a whole: to continue rocking the manderly boat would only prove the rumours true. that he were trying to stand against something. all brandon karstark wanted, was to be left in his own seat: with his own people, within parts of the north he still recognised. but the manderlys had stressed the opportunity of negotiations with the westerlands, and here they were.

there was a stark missing. who were they becoming?

still, his brother had found himself wrapped up in the presence of a woman with hair of flames, and he couldn’t help but lightly smile at the sight of the woman stood to the side of the room; almost as though she were trying to busy herself. “has that treacherous mud man left ya to yer own devices?” there was a light humour in his voice, one that masked the weariness that he felt in his lack of sleep these days. he still smelt the scent of his wife, heard the sound of her sighs as she turned to sleep on her side; but the bed was empty. he simply offered her his hand to take, nodding his head in the direction of the dance floor.

in truth, he wondered if she would close herself from his speech. the true north, was what he apparently represented: what did that mean the king represented? 

whilst there was undoubtedly perks to being a king, it was also a thankless job. the weight of the kingdom rested on his shoulders, and it was that of which he spoke now. a new queen, rather than a wife. a new hand, rather than the loss of a friend so treasured. to dacey, it was telling, and worrying, all in one. the north needed owen the king, but she cared for owen the man.

"i understand there's more than... well, you to think about, but i don't think anybody would blame you for taking your time to start your search for a queen." perhaps they would. dacey certainly wouldn't think less of him, but then, she held in heart more compassion than she knew what to do with. "at least until the right woman makes herself known." it might be easier said than done, but too much change at once could be dangerous, and the starks household had shifted so much, still knitting around the gaps left by those they'd lost.

the mention of alys had her shifting uncomfortably, both feet finding the ground once more as she released her grip on her legs. she knew more than she should, but owen's words only reinforced her decision to keep that to herself, to relieve him of at least one burden. and so, she said nothing, pointedly avoiding the conversation of the oldest stark sister. neither did she address brandon - for she could not find it in her to condemn him, even if he did hate owen.

"a manderly could be a good idea." her gaze fell contemplatively on the fire. "there will doubtless be people vying for that position. not necessarily for the right reasons. not for the north." she liked to believe the best in people, but it would be foolish to deny that there were people who were out for themselves, grasping for power where they could. "if you think the manderlys share in your ambitions for the kingdom, and can support you when you are right and speak plain when they think you're wrong, then you could do worse than making one of them your hand."

When his wife died he receive the news his sister his was missing as well. Owen didn't take the time to process either. They sat on shelves in his mind and he would approach them later. When life allowed him to dust off the annals of his memory and feel it all. Brandon. Alys. Rosa. Only one remained and he imagined he would never see the living one again.

Much of it was his own fault. He should have put people in different positions, he should have listened to people when they said it was time for him to slow down. Owen Stark didn't like to listen to others. At the beginning of the conflict with the Umbers he say the cobbled road, where it stopped and how much they had to do, how far they had to go. He saw the improvements of Moat Cailin and the increased taxes from new villages and trade proved him right. Again. Northmen would be more than survivors.

In a generation they would speak about their southron wolf and all he sacrificed for the Kingdom that was thrust upon him after the mess of the dancing Dragons. Out of the flames came a kingdom came a kingdom reborn. His kingdom.

"I don't look forward to looking for a new queen." Owen murmured as he raised the hand carved mug of Honeywine Whisky from the Reach. A gift from their High Commander for the rate he provided in lumber for his building in the newly named golden sea. Another venture possible because of his drive.

"Alys could be dead. Brandon hates me as well. I need a new Hand. Perhaps a Manderly. Though, I've rather bad news for him. They will thank me in the long run."

"of course," dacey nodded. she had no objections to him taking ownership of the pictures, considering the first strip was already tucked away in her wallet, and even if they weren't, she would have consented anyway, if only to make him happy. with ulises, she had gotten lucky, finding herself in a relationship that brought her the sort of peace and stability she had always craved, but as comfortable as she was with him, saying no when he asked something of her didn't come easily.

her fingers laced with his as they walked. "i'm honestly surprised so many people wanted to come back," she admitted. "i probably wouldn't if you didn't want to." school hadn't been awful for dacey, but in her awkward, teenage years, she had made very few friends, spending most of her time with hugo vance, her siblings, or people who knew her through her brothers and sisters. her social circle had widened in adulthood, but not enough that it would have been worth the journey if not to spend a little extra time together, away from the routine of home.

"i suppose it's nice that so many people wanted to be here, though." even if it had taken her until long after school to come out of her shell, there was something sweet about the fact that so many people felt so warmly about it that they'd made the effort. "remind me to ask my family if they want to have dinner while we're all here. it's not often we're all in the same place at once."

Ulises tucked a strand of Dacey's hair behind her ear when their photoshoot was over, helping her make sure she looked okay before they walked out of the booth. Just then, she also reached over to wipe the trace of her lipstick on the corner of his lips, making Ulises smile a little. Simple gestures like these, or bigger ones in their daily lives, they looked after each other.

Once outside the booth, he stood close to Dacey as they saw the results of their second photoshoot. “I love these,” Ulises murmured, a tender smile appearing on his lips. The first ones they took were cuter while these were a bit more playful, and both seemed so romantic to Ulises. “Can I keep these?” he asked. He could already picture having them at one of their bookcases at their place, so the pictures would be more theirs than his anyway.

Ulises' hand slipped into hers and he looked around the fair as well when they walked. “Yeah, a lot of people came here. A lot comes back to this place,” he said, which felt like a massive understatement considering so many of those in their social circle came from this place. It all connected back to this school in one way or another. Ulises wouldn't have befriended Adam if it wasn't for this school, and he wouldn't have met Dacey. “I've seen alumni from so many different years too. I guess that's why it feels like so many of us showed up”. A good sign, he thought. With so many alumni, it was possible the donation efforts would meet their goal.

closed stater for @percival-templeton location : owen's wifey search ball

if dacey had been uncertain about owen's choice to throw open the doors of their home to any unmarried lady looking to call herself a queen before, it had duplicated tenfold now that the hour had arrived. as the centre of the northern court, it was rare that winterfell wasn't housing a guest or two, but rarely was it quite as full as this. all of her favourite places to go to when she wished to look for peace were annoyingly full, and the result was this ; she stood in the hall, observing owen's ball, getting closer and closer to overwhelmed.

at some point, she had ended up outside, standing alone in the courtyard. it was not deserted here, either, but it was quieter than the hall had been, and the bite of the cold on her cheeks was enough to ground her, bring her out of her head and back to the present. that was what she had needed, a brief moment to breathe.

feeling a little more centred, dacey made to return to the ball, but came to an awkward stop at the door, her path blocked by a lord attempting to enter at the same time as she. she recognised him as percival templeton of the vale, but beyond his name and house, there was little else she knew about the man. graciously, dacey stepped back, giving him space to enter before she.

"apologies, my lord." her expression was serious, but not unfriendly. "please, after you."