Dacey's Palm Was Flat Against The Stone, Long, Thin Fingers Red From The Cold And Where The Skin Had

something reared its head in dacey then, something both unfamiliar and uncomfortable that settled in her gut. defiance. she had always been more lapdog than direwolf, more likely to show her belly than her teeth, and that was still true now, even as indignant as she felt at cyrene's words. she bit back what was on the tip of her own tongue - that cyrene had not been there, had not witnessed the lowest of dacey's lows, and yet here she stood now, acting as though she could read dacey's mind.

the reverse was just as true. cyrene had once been the person closest to dacey, and now she was a stranger who wore the face of a sister. the woman who returned to winterfell was not the same as the one who had left.

she kept hands beneath her furs, though her cheeks were pink, the cold wind and dacey's self-consciousness painting colour into her face. you are not well. why was it that she took such umbrage to the words? was it because she had spent so much time, worked so hard, to convince everyone otherwise? or was it perhaps because the first person to notice the façade she hid behind was someone who had not set eyes upon her face in many long years?

"i am alive," she said, eventually. "that is more than many." it was more than jon, the unspoken ghost that curled around them. since his death, dacey had grown accustomed to his absence - but now cyrene was here, she needed to reconcile with it all over again. "the cold doesn't effect me much, anymore. only on the worst of days."

Dacey practically ripped her hand out of Cyrene's hold, and it felt like an old wound ripped open once more. Scabbed over, healed and forgotten. And now, it was as thought the stitches had vanished during the healing process, something fresh, something malformed left behind.

I am well.

You do not need to worry about me, Cyrene.

I am well. You do not need to worry.

She worried. Dacey had to know she did. Cyrene could imagine the reasoning behind her words. Spelled out in Cyrene's letters to Dacey, to Cassana, to Jon, to Adam and even to Owen. Distance had grown her into a worrier. Distance had left her without control over her choices, her care of those she held closest in her heart. Every single one of her siblings had denied her request of being provided safety. And now they were all left to pick up the pieces.

Bits and pieces within Cyrene still knew her sister well. Too well, perhaps. They were both changed women now, hardened by time. But Cyrene knew who Dacey was at her core. Beyond the care Dacey had for other people. Her sister's fingers had been rough in her grip. Proof of incidents Cyrene had only heard about from afar. "You are not fine," she whispered. "You are not well." Dacey held herself together admirably, but it broke Cyrene's heart when she watched anyone else like this, anyone other than herself. "I will worry, whether you tell me or not." Her voice was low, urgent. She did not try to reach out to Dacey again, did not step closer again. But her eyes. Green-brown hues pleading for her sister to let her in like she had in the past. "You know the chill does not bother me. You know I care more about what it does to you."

Stephanie Garber, Once Upon a Broken Heart

dacey's gaze lingered on wylla, her niece's small face full of curiosity and unspoke questions dacey was half-hoping she would not ask. the ache in her chest was an unfamiliar feeling, equal parts yearning and hesitation. cyrene's words were gentle, in contrast to what had felt like a reprimand before, but gentle words had done little to ease the knot of insecurity tightening within her. braved than she seems. braver than she'll let you believe. green eyes drifted over cyrene for a moment, trying to deduce if the words were supposed to be comfort, challenge, or mockery, and unsure she would find a definite answer to that.

it was almost second nature, the way her hands clasped before her, so much so that she did not realise she was using her nail to scratch at the rough skin around her other thumb, the outward manifestation of her lingering doubts. the voice in the back of her head was telling her that wylla would not like her, that she did not know how to bridge the gap between aunt and stranger, and it would be an embarrassment to try. the thought had been gnawing at dacey since she'd first heard of cyrene's arrival, and now faced with the girl herself, she felt utterly unprepared for any of this.

cyrene's patience was, too, something dacey hadn't prepared for. it were further proof that the woman who returned was not the girl she remembered. cyrene wasn't pushing, wasn't teasing, wasn't testing dacey's limits. there was no sharp edge that she had anticipated.

finally, dacey crouched to meet wylla's gaze at her own level, skirts gathering in the snow that covered the walls. her movements were slow, as though afraid to scare her off, but the small, hesitant smile on her face remained, her voice soft when she spoke. "it is nice to meet you after all these years, wylla." she wondered if her northern accent sounded strange to a child accustomed to the riverlands, who would have only heard such tones from her mother on a regular basis.

her eyes flicked back to cyrene briefly, as though looking for approval, or permission, and when she turned her attention back to wylla, she released her hand from her own grip and extended it, palm up, leaving it in the space between herself and wylla for the little girl to decide what to do with. "i think you must be a wonderful explorer," her voice was a little firmer now, as though she were trying to find something to latch on to. "it is not everyone who can find their way out to the walls. it's so high." a pause, and dacey swallowed.

"i've spent some time exploring winterfell myself. learning it's secrets." her voice lowered, as though she was sharing one of those hidden secrets now. "if you'd like, i can show you all my favourite places. the ones nobody else knows of."

Cyrene watched Dacey with a careful eye, noting the quiet that had always defined her younger sister. It was the same quiet that had once driven Cyrene to provoke her, to tease and cajole in the hopes of coaxing something louder from the girl who seemed to carry the weight of the world in her stillness. She had always wanted Dacey to roar, to be the wolf Cyrene believed she could be, rather than the shadow of one.

But time had worn that impulse down. Dacey’s silence wasn’t weakness; it was something harder to define, something solid and unyielding. It was courage, though Dacey would never claim it.

Cyrene glanced down at Wylla, her small hand still clinging to her mother’s fingers. She felt the weight of her daughter’s curiosity as Wylla’s wide eyes flickered to her aunt. And still, Dacey said nothing.

“She’s braver than she seems,” Cyrene said softly, her words meant for both her daughter and her sister. The irony of it struck her. She had spent so long wishing Dacey would break her silence, only to now realize how much strength it carried.

She crouched, steadying Wylla as the girl peered up at her aunt with quiet fascination. “This is your Aunt Dacey,” Cyrene said, a smile tugging faintly at her lips. "She’s braver than she’ll let you believe, I'm afraid.”

Her gaze flicked to Dacey then, searching, hoping. She didn’t tease this time. Didn’t push. Cyrene had learned to leave some silences unbroken.

May Sarton, from Journal of a Solitude [ID in alt text]

the starks were plenty in number - or at least, they had been, once. that had allowed dacey to slip by unnoticed, to pander to her nerves and her shyness and her desire to avoid the perception of others who may look at her with unkind thoughts. but then jon had died, and so had the queen, and alysanne had vanished without a trace, and so had saoirse , and all of a sudden, there was far less family to hide behind. it had forced dacey out of the comfort of solitude. there was gaping holes in the northern court that they had once filled, that dacey was trying her best to make less pronounced, and it felt like her failure to do so was exceptionally obvious today under nasir's gaze.

he had seen and voiced that weakness in her long ago. it would not surprise him to know that it still existed within her. and now he was hand, there was far less opportunity to stay out of his way. it was an unfortunate reality that they were both needed far more than they ever had been, that their paths would need cross far more often. she bit back the urge to apologise for that, but could not stop herself from scratching at the loose skin around her thumbnail.

"i've never been to the reach, either." she was thinking out loud, and immediately regretted it. it was no secret that she had rarely left the north, where she felt safest, even when it did not seem like the safest place to be. such was the comfort of home, she supposed. but despite that, it felt like another admission of her failures.

"why?" her brows furrowed. was he trying to catch her out, to make her feel a bigger fool than she already did? did he simply wish to see her squirm, to further drive home his point? if he wished to prove her a mouse, he was certainly succeeding. perhaps it was her mistake. she had simply sought to grasp at a topic of conversation, something to fill the awkwardness of the silence between them, and was now faced with trying to justify that.

"i've never seen the westerlands." she confessed. "i know little of what to expect there." there was something else on her mind, but she did not know if nasir was the best person to mention it to. but then, after all, was he not now the hand? if not him, then who else was there to voice her concerns to?

"do you think it wise to be leaving the north at such a time?" there was a different tone to her question, less guarded and more genuine. the kingdom was moving forward, knitting over the void left by her sisters, but dacey had not. with alys, at least, she had some semblance of an answer, thanks to brandon karstark, even if she would never fully know the truth. but saoirse was a different matter entirely, one that kept her up at night.

✯

if someone were to ask what it was nasir manderly thought of the princess dacey stark, he would only pause with furrowed brows as though this were some trick of a question; what was their to think personally of the princess who was above his station? he had not come across an inability in performing her duty, and whilst she remained unmarried, it were not as though the north was without alliances in itself.

she was on the quieter side, but so was he generally; often the quietest of men in his surroundings, drowned out by the thunderous laughter of karstark and stark alike - judging by the ways in which the king was drowning himself in drink, those days would not come again.

there as a strangeness in the air, a sense of urgency that seemed to dance behind dormant eyes: all in the northern court knew that something had happened to the stark princesses, and yet, it were as though it were a chapter they were moving on from. because they all looked to their king for guidance, for inspiration: and there was nothing. nothing major, no major blow of emotion - damn, it appeared as though he was more pained by the fracture of his bond with brandon karstark.

he had not noticed the princess in the room until she was somehow leaving it, just as he was passing over the threshold in the presence of his younger brother; the two discussing updates to the naval fleet, considering owen's discussion with the master of ships. back to skagos, and it could be happening sooner than expected. then he remembered that it was she who was trying to follow up on leads.

"princess." nasir greeted, turning slightly on his heel as she passed to greet him. that was all he was expecting. he watched as she paused. she had thought he had called out for her. he never noticed how skittish she was around him. not once - for over a decade. he still did not. "once or twice, your highness." nasir responded, referencing the times in which the manderlys and the marbrands had met together; there was a time where the younger sons were incredibly close.

"similar to the reach, without the excessive chivalry." he did not think so - he could not recall. "go ahead, i'll join you soon." he spoke to amir, who merely nodded and moved further into the great hall.

"why?" he asked, the question genuine.

THE HOLIDAY (2006) dir. Nancy Meyers

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."

for six months, dacey and safeerah had been near enough joined at the hip. parting from one another had been a bittersweet thing, sorrow, and yet an inevitability. they were just too different, their outlooks and philosophies and what they wanted out of life. and yet, there was a sense of hope to it. dacey had been less diligent about maintaining the friendship than she should have been, but there was no time like the present to rectify that.

"safeerah!" dacey was a quiet soul, reserved in her emotions, but she made no attempt to hide the joy and excitement that she felt at seeing safeerah again. her arms wrapped around her in a gentle hug, the voluminous skirt of her dress making it difficult to pull her as close as she normally would. "thank you. it's a replica of something audrey hepburn wore." one of dacey's favourite actresses, there had been no doubt in her mind that this was what she'd wear. "but look at you!" she smiled brightly. "that shade of red is so lovely on you. you look stunning." there was no lie or exaggeration. safeerah looked beautiful.

"we have to catch up," she declared. "i'm sure you have plenty of travel stories to fill me in on. where have you been this year?"

event starter: @daceystvrk setting: hollywood glamour night. context: dacey and saf dated in the past. they have not seen each other since they said goodbye in the airport.

most of safeerah's life had been lived wherever she pleased and with whomever she pleased. she went where opportunity was, or wherever the last person to capture her heart was. it was her favourite thing about her line of work. the freedom it gave her. most of her life fit inside two suitcases. it had been during her travels that her path crossed with dacey, and they had spent half a year together until life happened, and they had to say goodbye. it was one of the few times that she felt bound by to take certain opportunities. the two women had parted as friends, but it had been one of the relationships that she had mourned the most. now it seemed their paths had crossed again.

she spotted the woman from across the hall, instantly recognising her, and excused herself from the little group. she got a hold of two glasses of champagne before making her way over to dacey. she stepped out of the crowd with a carefree smile. “i had a feeling you might be here. it's so lovely to see you again.” for others, it was awkward running into an ex, but she had always prioritised ending as friends. well, with almost everyone. she had dropped the ball with deimos. safeerah gave her a careful hug, afraid to mess with her dress or hair in any way. she took a step back to admire her. “you look absolutely beautiful, dacey. it's like you stepped out of one of those old hollywood movies.”

maisie spoke of her loyalty, and dacey merely nodded, a twist of guilt shooting through her that she felt the need to justify her position. not to dacey, at the least, and yet, perhaps this was the price of her increased presence at court, that the people who surrounded her would not find themself scrambling to provide her with explanations, to discuss politics she did not wish to involve herself in beyond what was necessary. and underneath the guilt was worry, a concerned look shot to the westerlander serving girls helping the princess to pack. they had been sweet and obliging, but dacey trusted them not. discussing the fractured state of the north in the midst of the lion's den was not something she would indulge in. "perhaps this conversation is better left for our return, my lady," despite her attempts to keep her voice casual, it shook a little, betraying what was going through her mind. "though i am sure my brother will be glad to hear of it."

she had intended to let the matter rest there, but when maisie brought up encouraging brandon to do something, dacey stiffened, an unfamiliar protectiveness for brandon karstark shooting through her at the insinuation. "i don't know," teeth came down over her bottom lip, fingers moving to scratch the the sore red skin around her nailbeds. "lord karstark has been through much of late. but he is your blood." stark and karstark were ancient kin, but the blood he shared with maisie ran far thicker. it was not for dacey to involve herself in matters of family. and in any case, brandon already planned on speaking with the king, or the hand, if their last conversation held truth.

the change of topic was rapid, but one dacey jumped on, anything to distract from the northern fracture. marriage and children was her duty to the north, one she herself had yet to fulfil, but she was one stark princess in many, and knew not what plans her brother had for her hand. it was different for maisie, who had the fate of house mormont to consider. "have you a mind to take a husband?" she queried. it was a happier topic than that of alicent hightower. "suffered, and caused suffering in turn." she pointed out. "do not forget that she sowed the seeds that tore the realm apart, and took many lives with it."

❛❛Yes, my cousin... Brandon❜❜ Maisie cleared her throat in a silent cough as she affirmed, tilting her head a little and biting the bottom left corner of her lip. It was obvious that she felt Dacey's gaze on her face, as well as the countless questions that filled the princess's mind; Dacey had always been sweet, friendly, but very worried and afraid of everything around her, one part of Lady Mormont understood her completely, the other wanted to give her a little push so that Stark would blossom for good; ❛❛I'm loyal to the Starks, I always will be,❜❜ she assured quickly, trying to calm the princess's doubting mind. ❛❛There's only one true north for me, the one you and I know,❜❜ she sighed and slumped her shoulders, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

❛❛He's my family, the only one I have left by blood. I just want to convince Brandon to do something about it, or try to... I don't feel like I have that much of a voice yet.❜❜ A smile appears on Mormont's face at the memory of the family time she had, she misses it ❛❛It's just...❜❜ She shakes her head and arches her eyebrows ❛❛I hope it really was a bit of fun with wine, beer and random conversations❜❜ She says, remembering a little of the amount of alcohol she had consumed, much more than she normally did, something about western wine was different from northern wine.

❛❛It's very strange to say that all this has made me wonder if I'll ever have children, I mean, I need to, but... you get the idea❜❜ He laughs a little as he fumbles with his words, but then closes his face as he remembers the terrible scene that took place ❛❛I wouldn't have liked to have seen it either, hasn't she already suffered too much for them to still be targeting her? It reminded me that the climate of war is still there, I don't like it❜❜

closed starter for @maisiemormont

the rooms that dacey had been staying in during her time in the west were a flurry of movement, maids and ladies rushing to help the princess pack so that she might leave the west along with the king. she should not have left it until the last minute to ensure everything was ready to go. even her direwolf was helping, neatly collecting her belongings at dacey's command for her to place in her trunks.

when yet another body entered the room, she gave them a cursory glance and a nod of hello, only to double take when she recognised it not as a member of her household or a servant of the west, but a ruling lady of the north. maisie mormont.

"lady mormont," she rose to her feet, granting a grateful smile to the maid who stepped in to take over her spot kneeling at the trunk, ensuring everything fit. "i apologise for the state of disarray. will you be travelling with us, or do you intend to stay longer in the rock?"