Augusten Burroughs

"hmm." dacey's own response was a low hum of acknowledgement. would she have liked the reach? she wasn't certain. it certainly seemed as though it would have been less overwhelming than king's landing, and all that transpired there. and yet, it was the latter that had tempted her from the north. perhaps there had been something within her that had sensed what was to come, that she would be needed in a way she had never been before.

"perhaps i would have." or perhaps she would have felt similarly to how she did in the crownlands, lost and shy and adrift. that was not lord manderly's concern, though, and so she kept it to herself. she already felt as though she was sharing too much with him, more than he asked for, at least. it would seem that the more present she was, the more difficult it was to shut up.

and that was the precise wrong way to be - at least, around nasir it was. she was getting along just fine before, when they could comfortably keep their distance from one another, but that distance had become less tenable, and would continue to do so the more time he spent as her brother's hand.

and yet. despite her own discomfort, the prospect of him not being the hand was worse than the prospect of seeing his face in her home more often than she was used to. the north needed the stability of a steady hand, and if it could no longer be brandon karstark, she trusted her brother's judgement, that nasir was the best man for the job.

"you don't have to." the refusal was quick to fall from her lips. "i would like to be prepared, i mean, but that's not exactly within your remit. i won't bother you with that." and she was over-explaining, trying to make the burden of her own existence a little smaller for others and somehow feeling more of an irritant than ever.

and she nodded, for of course there were reasons beyond that which she understood. "of course." she should have known that owen would have his reasons, his presence would be necessary, but did that mean she would need to go, too? almost as soon as the thought materialised, she felt guilty for it. she still had not quite found where she could be most useful to the north, but it would not be hiding behind the walls of winterfell.

"do we have a gift prepared?" she wondered aloud. "from the north, i mean. for the baby?"

✯

"i did think so." his response in reaction to her words about never having visited the reach, nor the westerlands; there was no denying the fact that of all the courtly beating hearts within the continent, it was the kingdom of thorns and roses that seemed the most culturally developed. a variety of differences between them, and yet their lands were filled with both the necessary for survival, and so much more.

whilst many northerners turned their noses up at the frequent trips the manderlys of white harbour took further south, there was no denying the fact that it had given them something many others did not have - perspective. "we were all there only some months ago, for the coronation of king cedric, following the end to their civil war."

it had been the height of discussion and gossip at the time, how brother had turned against brother; and it had resulted in one root of house tyrell being pulled from the dirt, the body of the eldest son left hanging from a window for all to see.

"perhaps you may have liked it." and suddenly, nasir began to wonder whether he were speaking too much; this princess was one he did not often find himself speaking with, for he did not speak much to any of the stark princesses. there was no denying the fact that dacey was now being forced to be present, because of the troubling issues which had arisen. that left much silences to either allow to grow between them, or fill.

"...do you want me to tell you of the westerlands?" the hand of the king asked, half hoping she would honestly say no, and the conversation could come to an end. why did it feel so strange each time they crossed paths with one another? why did he always find himself wondering whether he had been mistakenly rude? he knew he could do that at times, yet he were always quick to pull back and clarify.

but then she asked another question, one which there was no shortening the conversation of. "the king has been waiting for the right time to approach the lion king with some offer. there is no better time than when the man is of higher spirits - when his son has been born." there was only so much the north could do; search parties were out, but he began to wonder whether both stark princesses had involved themselves in the ritualistic practices of hags of the woods.

in that case, the only person responsible for what happened to them, was them. "there is little use in letting the opportunity slip."

F•R•I•E•N•D•S (1994-2004)

a temporary hush fell between them. usually when such silences fell, it kicked dacey's mind into overdrive, always assuming the worst of herself, always trying to figure out where she had gone wrong. but there was reassurance in his voice, and her cheeks turned half a shade more flushed when it hit her that she had missed the point, completely overlooked that this was simply banter between brothers, even if one of the brothers were not there to hear it. it still did not feel like her place to poke fun at aleksander behind his back, but neither did she need to explain and overexplain it, neither. she breathed out, and nodded her head once more. "thank you."

it was a common pattern for dacey. for a brief moment, her defences would lower enough for her to speak without thinking, until her mind caught up with her and forced her to re-examine what she had said. and then she would doubt herself. she spun, but continued to try and maintain eye contact with him, glancing back over her shoulder with her neck twisted at an awkward angle until the only option was to turn her head the other way. for a brief second, confusion flitted over her face, for when he announced his intention to speak with the hand, her mind still went to him first, not nasir manderly. "i am sure that will put many minds at ease."

he mentioned speaking to the king, and it would not be hard for him to notice how dacey tensed at the idea. was that a good idea? she opened her mouth, then closed it again. unless you think it best. was that a rhetorical question, or was he truly asking her opinion? she wanted to reassure him that owen would want to speak with him, and a part of her believed that to be true, but though he was her brother, she would not deny the truth - brandon knew him best. even now, he knew him better than dacey did.

"i don't know," she admitted, softly. there was worry, the sort of worry she always felt when she thought about owen these days. "i'd like to be able to tell you that i think he would prefer to hear it from you himself, but i truly don't know, brandon. do you want to speak with him?"

♞

the quickness to which the princess of the north, those the songs often dubbed as the rose of snow within the lands of karhold, took to attempting to defend aleksander karstark made brandon go momentarily quiet - though not for reasons one may have assumed. not because he felt as though she were interceding on something that was not hers to deal with, nor because he found the closeness she shared with aleksander to be questionable or inappropriate: but rather because it felt as though she had missed the part where it were clear the brothers of karhold were joking.

"i know, yer highness." his words were quiet but reassuring under the sound of the music as they continued to dance, his hand still resting respectfully on her hip as they spun around; he was careful not to barge her into any other couple on the dance floor. she were over explaining herself, in a way that would no doubt show far more of her state of mind than his own. "he'll not hear a word from me about it." a part of him wondered if this was the consequence of a clear change in sibling dynamics, what happens when the oldest brother is no longer that, but a king too.

for some reason the sight of the smallest of heads nods, the acknowledgement of his word, seemed to cause him a sense of relief - that there was at least one of the royals that understood the movement had not been encouraged by him, nor those who spoke it. none would find brandon karstark within their halls, igniting their whispers and their flames; not so soon after the weapons had been laid to rest. "i intend on speaking with the hand of the king himself on it. enough has befallen us all, i will not speak in riddles or wait in the shadows." he spun her around, watching as she turned.

whether brandon thought it was his truth, was something else entirely. he agreed with the sentiment. he agreed with what was being said. only, he did not agree with the timing; nor did he agree with the method in which such rumour was being spread. "unless you think it best for me to speak to the king himself." the king, instead of owen; there was so much change in wording, words that still felt foreign upon his lips. he watched as thought crossed over her features; no doubt, a sense of kindness remained upon her face.

closed starter for @amirofmanderlys

"lord manderly," she wished she could say that it was good to see him, but trepidation clouded her tone, her expression, for a large part of dacey feared that he did not bring with him glad tidings. not that his return was itself full of good news. only tragedy had awaiting amir manderly on his return, and that was not much of a welcome home.

"i am glad to see you returned to us." it was the kindest thing that she could say that still remained the truth. she was glad that he was safe, despite any anxieties she held about what his lengthy absence meant for the north.

there was once a time where she never would have asked the question she was about to voice, simply because she was too afraid to do so. for so long, her way had been to bury her head in the sand and hope that pretence was enough. it had been a long time since that had worked.

"is there to be war?" as blunt as the query was, it was softened by the way she spoke it, no less gentle than when she expressed her joy that he was back. "with skagos?" the signs were there, but she could not help but hope he would tell her otherwise.

dacey nodded her gratitude, remaining standing though seffora sat. there was a temptation to pace the room, but she withstood it - refusing a seat was one thing, but it felt rude to take the liberty to stroll around the room, even with someone she was as comfortable with as she was with seffora. she clasped her hands before her, neatly, and turned her full attention to the lady of longtable.

and her expression softened then, clear sympathy written on her face. sienna merryweather's treason had reached her ears, but it was not a topic she would have broached had sefford not mentioned it first. "i was sorry to hear of it," she spoke gently. "of your sister. the position she put you in. i cannot imagine how trying that would have been." trying seemed too small of a word for what seffora had been through, both before and after such an event. "you did not deserve it." but then, it seemed both the old gods and the new seemed to put them on paths that they did not deserve, did not ask for. dacey could only hope the worst of their life's challenges were behind them both.

for seffora, that certainly seemed so. she spoke of the people who had come together to help aid her in times of trouble, and that painted a smile on dacey's lips. finally, she took a seat next to seffora. "there's great wisdom in listening to the guidance of those with wisdom of their own to share, i think." it was a philosophy she lived her own life by - listen to those who knew better, follow the teachings of those who had knowledge to impart. "a skill i think many who rule keeps forget, sometimes." it was a subtle sort of compliment towards seffora. "you may not have prepared for this, but it sounds as though you are taking things in your stride. and when longtable flourishes again, don't let your gratitude towards those who helped you overshadow your pride in your own actions."

“Not at all. Make yourself comfortable in any way you like, Dacey,” the Merryweather lady offered with a friendly smile. The journey from the North was considerably longer, so she fully understood the princess' wish. Seffora, for her part, who'd ridden the last bit of the journey on horseback, did welcome the comfort of the couch that was set near one of the windows. It was lovely to get a good view of the western sea from it.

“Well, after what Sienna unleashed, anything would count as better fortune,” the Lady of Longtable admitted with a subtle scoff. To this day she remained conflicted of what her eldest sister had done, but Seffora had gradually learned it was not her burden to bear. What was hers to carry was the promise of what Longtable could become following the civil war. “I never thought I would end up being a ruling lady. None of the odds were in favor for it, and I never wished it, really,” the lady admitted. But circumstance built character, and Seffora could feel proud of herself for how she'd risen to the occasion.

“Well, my fortune has been deeply tied to those who have been guiding and aiding me in this chapter of my life. My aunt Denyse has offered her wisdom. I have little in the form of family left, and I'm so grateful for her,” she added with a subtle tug of her lips, a bittersweet smile. If one understood what it meant to lose siblings, it was Dacey. “Lord Tirius continues to be a support for me, some of his kin have moved to Longtable and been great advisors. I do have Laena, too. My cousin helped so many of my people, we arranged for her to teach her craft to many of the widows from the war, and they're slowly but surely rebuilding their lives”. Seffora's unshakable focus on the widows and the orphans had been her most important work once she became a ruling lady, wishing to support the most disenfranchised and the most vulnerable. “It's taken effort and time, but Longtable will be thriving again soon. I'm sure of it”.

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.

Genevieve Gaunt in Knightfall (s2) as Princess Isabella

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closed starter for @hxrundxne

"welcome to the north, your grace."

it was strange, dacey thought, how the chain of events set in motion by the dance had changed both their lives so dramatically. dacey had been born a daughter of house stark, a lady of the north, but in her brother gaining a crown, she had found herself a princess, even if she still wore the title awkwardly. in contrast, aemma had once been a sister to a monarch, and though she retained her title of princess, the line of succession had moved away from her line, to her cousins who now sat in king's landing. it served as a reminder ; how quickly their fortunes could change.

"i hope you aren't finding it too uncomfortable. it always takes me a little while to adjust to the heat in the south," her tone was apologetic - she wasn't sure why. it wasn't as though dacey stark had the ability to control the weather.

but she liked aemma targaryen. dacey was not a woman who made friends easily, always feeling a little out of place wherever she went, but though that self-conscious feeling had not disappeared with aemma, it was lessened somewhat.

"i was glad to hear that you and your brother had made the journey."

closed starter for @owenstark

dacey leaned in towards the fire, letting the heat seek into her bones. it almost felt strange, that in the middle of such tumultuous times for the north, that they could find a moment to just be. 

it had been one thing after another. if that was overwhelming for dacey, she could not imagine how owen must feel. he was a king, but he was still her brother, and as a sister, she reserved the right to worry for owen the man, rather than owen who wore the crown. the loss of a queen was a blow to the north, but the loss of the mother of his children was what weighed most heavily on her. alysanne’s disappearance was similarly felt, but he had lost a twin. she couldn’t believe that just one of those things would not drag anybody down, let alone both in succession. 

she drew her knees to her chest, adjusting her skirts and wrapping her arms around them in a gesture that was both informal and child-like, something she had done long ago when they had both been far younger and less burdened. for once, her hands were still. 

she turned her head to look at him, taking a moment to simply observe before speaking. “what are you thinking about?” her voice was gentle - not obtrusive, simply wondering. “you don’t have to tell me. but if you want to talk about anything… well, i’m here to listen.”

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?"