Even On Her Best Days, Dacey Retreated In On Herself In A Crowd, And Today Was Not One Of Her Better

for: @owenstark timestamp: early morning location marker: winterfell

it had been so long since dacey stark had a good night's sleep that the circles around her eyes were almost a permanent fixture. no, she spent her evenings in the glow of candlelight, weaving until her hands cramped, her vision blurred, and exhaustion finally overtook her body, usually just as the sun began to peek through winterfell's towers. then, there was only time to sleep for a few precious hours before she was on her feet again, facing another day that she didn't know if she had the energy to face.

there were often nights where dacey could not shut out the cacophony of disjointed thoughts that flitted through her mind, lingering only long enough to leave a lasting impression of worry or dread before slipping away before she had the chance to wrangle it into submission. there had been more nights like that recently, and tonight was one of them. her candles had burned down to stubs by the time the sun had risen. there was little point trying to fall asleep now. winterfell was beginning to awaken. from her window, she could see figures below, assuming their morning duties. instead, she readied herself for the day, and routed herself through the castle.

she had come to see her brother.

she knocked lightly on his door, but pushed it open before awaiting an answer. if he was here, he would be alone. if he was not here, then there was little point in lingering outside of an empty room. her eyes fell upon him, and a small smile curled around her lips. It was a smile of greeting, of warmth, even if there was little joy in it.

"I hope i'm not intruding," she began, hovering in the doorway, awaiting instruction to venture further in, or to turn to leave. "i'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you." her hands were clasped in front of her, but though she stood still, they did not rest, fingers twisting around one another, pulling mindlessly at the already raw skin around her nails. "If there is anything I can do - if you have need of me - you need only ask."

she looked at him, and for a moment, a profound sadness fell over her. it was not born of grief, like her sadness often was these days, nor of pity, because there was never a time when she looked upon him with pity. she had never seen him as anything but strength, and while she had long understood that he carried the weight of a crown, she looked at him now and saw the weight of the world. the politics of it all made her head swim, and she could not imagine how much worse it was for owen.

"sounds exhausting," and not just for owen. the arrival of more women in court would mean more women she would have to talk to, when she already only found herself comfortable in the presence of a select few.

dacey nodded her assent. war was an ugly thing. she knew there was supposed to be honour and glory found in it, but while she could look at those who fought and think them brave, she could not see it as anything other than a tragedy. "in that, you have my support. anything to prevent further bloodshed." if there was any cause she would dedicate herself to, it would be that one.

their conversation oscillated from politics to personal, and while it was the former dacey struggled to immerse herself in, it was the latter that owen was reticent to discuss. "i understand, but i am your sister." a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. it was easy to forget that she could be stubborn. "and my duty to my brother is equal to my duty to my king. when you have some hours to be owen, then i will make time to be dacey."

"If someone can get a king to marry their choice, they stand to gain a great deal. If it's not from the King himself then they stand to gain from the Queen. There will be an influx of courtiers, many who haven't left after the end of things with Rosa's funeral are sending for women to join them here." And he would share this with her but they were hoping he would sleep with their daughter or their sisters and then the Lord would show up and demand a marriage. With the beginning of responsibility brought on the end of what he enjoyed these days. Women.

"I grow tired of war, sister. Let us do everything we can o prevent one from happening and perhaps look beyond our realm and our connections." He dragged his fingers through his beard, he would have to shave soon. He would have to do something to ensure he presented himself as someone that wore the crown of the north. And not the images of Kings from times long ago. Ages of heroes. No. He would look like a King.

Owen looked at her when she asked him about how he was feeling and he thought for a moment. Raised his mug, finished his beer, and then refilled it before looking back at her and then towards the window. "If we start talking about that I fear we'll be here for hours and I can only be Owen so many hours a day."

TRUTH SERUM

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

dacey - devani - norbert - minthara - conall

dacey exhaled, the breath coming from her in a visible puff as it met the cold air. it was a heavy burden brandon carried now, and she felt the weight of it on her own shoulders. she looked at him for a second too long before speaking, but it was not suspicion that clouded her gaze, merely contemplation. perhaps with all that had transpired, the cracks in the ice of the northern court, it was a foolish thing to trust him, but she did. when she looked at him, she saw only honesty in his face.

"i don't envy the position you find yourself in." owen was her brother, but she would offer him no lies. it would do no good - because despite everything, brandon still knew owen far better than she. dacey loved her brother, and there was little he could ask of her that she would not do, and yet, she could not pretend that she had the measure of him as a man. "if i thought my words held any weight with my brother, i would offer to speak for you. but..." she trailed off, allowing the unspoken to fill the silence. but, it would be best coming from brandon.

and it was strange, how he seemed to want to give her reassurance, when that was the exact thing she was struggling to find to offer him. "oh, it's..." she began her protest, her assurances that she believed that the blame for this did not lie at his feet, but the words died in her throat. brandon faltered before her, suddenly unsteady on his feet, and her reaction was instinctual, moving closer and raising her hands as though he did not tower over her, as if she could bear the weight of him if her fell.

in the end, she did not need to. he caught himself on the wall, pressed his hand to the side of his head, and still, dacey stood there, arms half-raised, hesitating as she studied him. "brandon," her voice was soft, a whisper on the wind as she looked him over, and saw etched in his features something that she could not name. her heart was hammering in her chest, and though she knew the gesture may not be welcomed, she could not fight the urge to reach out, to provide something solid and steady should he stumble again. the vision she had always held of brandon karstark was of a man who seemed so unwavering ; to witness him like this was unsettling.

dacey lowered one arm, but the other stretched out, bridging the small gap between them and coming to rest upon his arm. the fabric of his cloak was rough beneath her palm, but warm, her touch light, but firm, as though her own gentleness could somehow lend him strength. she did not know if she was overstepping, if this was too familiar, but in that moment, it was the last thing on her mind, her thoughts full of little else but her concern. "are you all right? do you need..." she glanced around, looking for somewhere to bid him to sit, before settling on a stone mounting block a few meters away.

"over here," her fingers curled around his sleeve, and she tentatively led him to the mounting block, brushing the snow from it with her free hand before gesturing for him to sit. it was only then did she let go of his arm, though her gaze did not move from his face, scanning for any sign of weakness or pain, or what exactly had come over it. perhaps it was the stress of it all. perhaps he was just tired.

"you're all right," her voice was low, a steady mantra of reassurance. "you'll be all right." she should step back, give him space to breathe, but a part of her remained afraid that if she did, he would keel over sideways. at least it was happening here, with the snow to break his fall and no eyes but her own and the gods, rather than in the overheated hall surrounded by northmen, though that was a small mercy in the grand scheme of things.

♞

the cold air outside the hall bit at brandon karstark’s cheeks, but he barely noticed it. winterfell’s great halls had been stifling, crowded with people and their endless voices. out here, beneath the wide expanse of a pale sky, he could think clearer. speak clearer. though dacey stark’s presence made his words heavier than he liked. she had a way of looking at a man like she could see the cracks in him, even if she didn’t mean to.

she stood before him now, bundled in furs, her cheeks flushed—partly from the cold, partly from the unspoken weight of their conversation. she was anxious, that much was clear. he could see it in the way her hands twisted at the edge of her cloak, the way she glanced at him like she wasn’t sure whether to trust his words or doubt them.

brandon exhaled, his breath a plume of mist. he’d been taller than most his whole life, but now, with his beard grown thick and wild, and the weight of years etched into his features, he felt like a shadow looming over her. he shifted, trying to soften his stance, though his voice remained gruff. “aye, i want to speak wi’ him,” he said, his words slow, careful. his karhold accent roughened each syllable. “but it ain’t about what i want, is it? i’ve got no choice but t’ clear me name and karhold’s name. them rumours o’ the true north are spillin’ too close me and my kin. if yer brother thinks i’m stirrin’ rebellion... well, that’s a noose i won’t wear.”

he glanced down at her, noting the worry in her eyes. it wasn’t just for him—there was a weight there, tied to her brother. to owen. “but yer right,” he admitted, his voice softening just a shade. “i don’t know how he’ll take it. things’ve been… strained.” he rubbed a hand over his beard, the motion slow, thoughtful. brandon had made his choice in refusing to attend the ceremony in which nasir manderly had taken up the position of hand; for the principle of it all. he too had not listened to the true wants of the north folk, and instead had been a champion.

perhaps even an instigator. it don't matter, not when the walls of white harbour remain high and they continue to become all the richer.

“but it’s a talk that needs havin’. and better it comes from me mouth than through whispers or knives in the dark, aye?” he watched her shift on her feet, unsure. she was trying to decide if she agreed, trying to decide if she even wanted to agree.

“listen, princess,” he said, his tone warmer now, though no less rough. “i ain’t leadin’ no rebellions. i don’t want yer brother’s crown, nor his throne. but what i do want is t’ make sure my folk don’t pay the price fer things i’ve no hand in.” he looked away then, out toward the snow-covered trees beyond the walls of winterfell. “yer kin matters t’ me. not just karstarks, but starks too. that’s why i’ll talk t’ him, no matter how he feels about it. he needs t’ hear it, and i'll leave it for da gods to decide..”

when he glanced back at her, his eyes softened just enough to ease the sharp edges of his words. “ye’ve got nothin’ t’ worry about, dacey. this ain’t somethin’ i’d leave unsettled. not when yer've been dealin wit....” there was a slight blur in his vision, and it showed in the fact his dark grey orbs seemed to flicker for a moment, becoming unfocused; he found himself reaching out against the stone wall, as though he needed to steady himself before losing his footing beneath him. it had come in a sudden wave, and his hand moved to his temple.

the gesture from lucius was unexpected, dacey's expression warming at his offer. there was approval in his expression, but one she completely misread, not a result of her own protectiveness of her sister, but as a mark of respect for cassana's talents. it never once crossed her mind that it was her own words that put it there. "i won't accept for her, but i think she'd like that. and i would be grateful, too." she blieved cassana to be strong and capable - but under it all, that was still her little sister.

she could see shades of how she felt of cassana in lucius when he spoke of ben, obvious in the quiet but steadfast pride in his words. benjicot blackwood was her cousin as much as lucius was, but she had never exchanged more than a few passing words with the ruling lord of raventree hall. all she knew about him truly was what the songs said, but lucius' certainty left little room for doubt in his abilities. "it sounds familiar," she admitted, with a knowing smile. "all that stubbornness. a trait shared by starks and blackwoods alike." few would look at dacey and assume she was a woman who knew her own mind, but it was not entirely true. in the things she believed in, she was quietly resolute.

the tension she hadn't entirely realised she was holding on to ebbed away as they stepped towards the bridge. the other side of the bank was, as lucius had promised, far quieter, giving her more room to breathe. the sounds of the river were lighter here, and though the festival was still visible, the sounds of it carrying in the breeze, it was enough of a distance for her to relax. she hadn't realised how much she needed this, a moment of peace and the simple comfort of company that did not demand more than she had the capacity to give. she turned her gaze upward, to where the wind rustled the leaves of the trees gently. "you were right," she said, simply. "it's nicer over here. less... well, constricting." she returned her eyes to him, her smile showing her gratitude to him for suggesting the walk. "thank you, lucius."

Lucius tilted his head slightly at Dacey’s words, the faintest shadow of a smile touching his lips. Her quiet defense of her sister struck a chord with him, perhaps because it mirrored the fierce protectiveness he himself felt for his family. “Discipline can be learned,” he conceded, his tone measured, though there was a glint of approval in his eyes. “But it takes time and patience, and someone willing to teach it. If your sister wishes it, I could train her while your family is in the Riverlands”. It wasn't the sort of offer he gave often, but one he would extend to Cassana because of his appreciation for Dacey.

When Dacey’s concern shifted to Ben, Lucius’s expression grew more neutral, but his gaze remained somewhat gentler than usual. “Ben’s more than just a fair fighter,” he said, his voice steady. “He’s been well-versed in the world of battle since he was a boy”. There was no boast to his tone, only a sort of quiet pride tempered with the harsh acknowledgment of why his brother had been shaped into a fierce warrior so young. “He’ll hold his own, no matter what’s thrown at him. He’s a Blackwood. We fight with every ounce of our pride and heart, even when we shouldn’t,” he admitted with a scoff. “He’ll be fine,” he reassured her, offering a firm nod to quell her worry.

As Dacey accepted his suggestion, Lucius’s smile grew somewhat warmer, though still subdued, as was his way. “I don't care about applause,” he said with a quick shrug, for he did not compete to earn a victory. He competed only to continue to sharpen his skill, to know himself to remain a polished weapon. There was some quiet pride in it too, in knowing every arrow he nocked and released could seed fear, could seed reverence, in the hearts of men. So he extended his arm slightly, motioning for her to follow him toward the bridge. “Come on, then. We can take our time. And during Litha the views from the other side of the Red Fork are lovely”. His words were simple, but his tone carried an undercurrent of understanding. Lucius didn’t press her further, content to walk in silence or speak as the moment allowed. Whatever his cousin wished, he was content to offer.

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 @lucius-rivers setting: on her way back to the north from king's landing, dacey stops in the riverlands and meets with her cousin.

dacey travelled slowly, if she travelled at all. she had left the north to make it to king's landing, her first time away from the lands of her own family, and expected to arrive home after the rest. it wasn't ideal, but having never been so far from home before, she didn't want to wear herself out, but did want to ensure she was making the most of her trip.

lucius rivers was not a man she knew well, but he was blood. that was what mattered to dacey. her mother's kin was a subject of curiosity for her, but she had always cared for them from afar. it made her a little nervous to be here.

swallowing her trepidation, dacey tried to still her hands, which were twisting together in her lap, and offered a tentative, but sincere smile.

"i'm sorry i didn't get to spend time with you in king's landing," she began. "i think this is better, though. i didn't care much for the city, but the riverlands is beautiful. you are lucky to call it your home."

dacey hadn't want to come to the westerlands. she was anxious enough about travelling to begin with, worsened by the fact her last excursion from winterfell had seen the disappearance of not one, but two stark sisters. she had hated leaving winterfell, hated every moment of the journey south to casterly rock, and now she was here, could not imagining summoning a false smile and making idle chatter with people she did not wish to see.

until she set eyes on seffora merryweather.

the friendship between them had been forged in a time of great sorrow for seffora. when she had left the north, dacey had half expected to never hear from her again, that the prospect of her company would be a painful reminder. how happy she had been to be wrong. seffora approached her through the crowd, and it was good to see a smile on her face and a light in her eyes.

"oh, seffora," dacey skipped any sense of formality, reaching her arms out to envelop her friend in a tight, but brief hug. perhaps this trip would be better than the last, even if only because she would be in the company of someone she cared for. "look how well you look!" there was only affection in her tone as she spoke. "we must catch up. i want to hear everything."

Closed starter for @daceystvrk Setting: Casterly Rock, the Westerlands.

The Lady of Longtable had chosen to ride the last few miles on horseback rather than in the carriage. Casterly Rock was a most imposing keep, a place Seffora had never visited in the past, and the scenery around the Lion King's castle was much too beautiful to see only through a window. She entered the courtyard escorted by her loyal guards, followed by the small retinue of people who travelled with her from her homeland.

Seffora looked around as she dismounted, seeing people from all the regions had been arriving on this very day as well. She Dornish, Riverlands and North banners. Her eyes landed on the Starks. The Starks who remained. The young lady had experienced some of the worst hardships of her life while in the North, and yet she had found solace and companionship in Princess Dacey. The princess had managed to be such a compassionate presence during it all, and that was something Seffora would forever be grateful for.

The Merryweather lady separated herself from her kin for a moment, walking over to the Stark princess as she removed her riding gloves. “Dacey!” the lady called as she weaved through the crowd of newly arrived guests, heading towards the Northern woman. A soft smile spread across her lips as she caught her friend's eye. She dared address her informally only because of the bond of friendship that had forged between them while the realms were hosted in the North, and the closeness that continued after that, even if only through letters at times. “Gods, it's so good to see you”.

{ Words by Megan Fernandes, from "Fabric in Tribeca," in Good Boys / Silas Melvin, from "Twenty," Grit }

the conversation was taking so many turns, from something resembling civility to something entirely different, that only accentuated to dacey that nasir manderly did not like her. and he did not need to like her. dacey had long since accepted that there would always be people who would not, and most of the time, she had made her peace with that, even if she did not particularly enjoy it.

so why was it, then, that talking to nasir had her on high alert, anxiety coursing through her veins? why was it that she felt so small and useless, as though her every word was the wrong one. it made her want to withdraw from the life she had begun to take up, one of greater visibility and more responsibility. it made her question if that was necessary at all, or if she would be better retreating to the towers of winterfell, and forever closing the doors.

not to you, was the thought that immediately came to mind, but she did not voice that. she could feel her cheeks warming, both embarrassment and trepidation accompanying her unease. "i said around it goes," and the revelation seemed almost anticlimactic, as though it would disappoint him to hear that it was no utterance of great wisdom. "more to myself than to you, my lord. my apologies."

they had not yet left for the west, but already, dacey found herself wishing the trip was over. the northern court could not be absent, no matter how little she wished to go, and she could only hope that the trip would be uneventful, that they could show their faces, enjoy what king tyland lannister's hospitalities, and return home without coming to any trouble or concern.

"leave it with me," she assured him. if nothing else, it was something she could do. "and if there is anything else you need of me, please do let me know."

✯

he was all too aware of the fact there was a quietness that settled between them, and whilst nasir usually could appreciate moments of silence and stretches of quiet, whenever it settled in the space between them he found himself wondering if he had somehow misstepped. whether his words had been too direct and forward, and had resulted in him somehow offending her.

she had always been the quietest of her siblings, seemingly softer than the rest of them - he was sure she had muttered something under her breath, and he had not heard it. if he were not overthinking, he would simply have ignored it - and yet, nasir did not want her to think he was ignoring her to her very face. why could she not just speak louder?

"…did you say something, your highness?" nasir asked, looking over at her again; and again, his expression always came across far more serious than he could ever truly intend.

perhaps he had only put her off their upcoming journey, and yet it was imperative that the woman in the most amount of power in this northern court understood the reality of where they were going - if not for her to coach the rest of the northern ladies in the court. they could not be too casual with their tongue, they could not find false friends in those who were more foe.

"perhaps that was the reason." or perhaps manal would have found the princess entirely dull and unbecoming; they were striking different, manal able to command the centre of attention - whilst, well, the difference was obvious enough. again, he sounded almost borderline dismissive of dacey's idea of her perhaps getting along with his sister - though not because he actually thought that, but rather because he'd rather not discuss his sister at great length. too sensitive a subject, no doubt.

"i think it would best if you did…i know my limits, princess." he knew what he was good at. gift giving, had never been one of those subjects.