Even As Children, The Similarities Between Dacey And Cyrene Had Ended With Their Last Name. The Sister

the moment cassana placed her head upon dacey's shoulder, her reaction was instinctual, one hand coming up to gently smooth across cassana's cheek, as though to check that she was all right without using words to do so, before letting her hand drop to her side again. it was unreserved in it's warmth in a way that was rare for daey for all but the youngest of her siblings.

there was no such warmth for cyrene. dacey did not miss the way cyrene's smile froze at the sight of her, and she responded by doing what she always did - by drawing back, away from what it was that was making her feel as though she did not belong here, in this place, where countless generations of starks had walked before. their reunion had been a tense one, and it seemed to have lingered.

and yet, she tried not to make it evident upon her face, tried not to spoil the peace the rest of them seemed to feel upon this reunion. cassana still stood by her side, and she allowed herself to draw strength from her presence, as she often did without the other knowing it. it was enough to paint a smile on her face, swallow down that knot of anxiety, and respond to what adam was saying, reminding herself that moment like these, when they got to be together like this, were a rare gift for them all.

"it does," she replied softly to adam, surprising even herself with the fact she were the first to speak. "i don't think i can recall the last time so many of us were here at once. it is usually quieter in the godswood, now life has taken us in our own directions." but for a moment, she could hear the shades of their childhood around them, laughter that had begun to echo long ago, and she felt a strange longing in her chest for it now. "but i have missed it. and i am glad the old gods saw fit to bring us together here again." even with those missing. even with those lost.

@owenstark

The King wanted to hunt and some times he wanted to go alone. On this day he traveled with his wolf. The great beast walking along side him as they made their way back. His horse carried a great stag on it's back and rabbits on the saddle. It would be a good meal, when the King wanted to eat well he would go out and get his own meat and have it roasted in butters and with vegetables and he would eat until he could not. Food and beer. It kept his mind at ease.

The sound of voices caught this attention. He dragged his fingers over his beard and took wrapped an arrow around his finger and lined it up as he walked closer. Calm washed over him as the voices were suddenly familiar and strange to him. Cyrene sounded different to his ears but he knew he all same. Adam was Adam, if his voice changed Owen would think another wore his face. And of course, Dacey, she carried a weight he always put on her shoulders. "Smoke get off her." Owen called out, putting the arrow away as Smoke ran up to Cyrene and put muddy paws on her front.

"And what do we have here?" A smiled graced his features briefly. "Starks in the Godswood. Have I stumbled upon the secret club house or has the old Gods brought us here?" Owen remember his secret cave with Alys and Jon, and it pained him to think of them so he pushed it away. "It's been too long since we've been a pack. We just need Cass." Those who were home at least. Life pulled them apart and together. Even as he tried, Owen did not feel like a brother. He felt like a King and he did not know how to turn it off.

@cassvstark

"easy enough, yes," there was a glimpse of a smile, tired and heavy and devoid of any real amusement. "but not right." brandon had been a guiding light for the starks for a long time ; so long that it was difficult to think of him as anything but infallible, someone who held answers where they were needed. he was not that anymore, nor did she imagine he wanted to be, but old habits died hard.

"i'm sure there are." finding answers would not be the issue, she expected, but finding answers from people she trusted was another matter entirely. it wasn't that she was cynical. if anything, she was naïve, offering more goodwill than was deserved at times, but the list of people she could trust dwindled by the day. she was certain brandon would understand that. you could not go through something like what he had faced and not lose some of your ability to trust.

the facts as dacey understood them were this: alysanne, whether with the best of intentions or not, had dabbled in things best left untouched. alysanne was gone, and there were no clues to unravel, no leads to follow, and no indication she would ever return. alysanne had left behind her remnants of what, in dacey's eyes, was a dire mistake, and the only thing she could do was ensure nobody else had to pay the price for it.

"then i suppose i know where i should start," there was a resigned sort of acceptance in her voice, as though she'd rather be doing anything else but that, and that was because she would. "assuming her associates will make themselves known to me." she had no idea how to circumnavigate that particular snag, but she would cross that bridge when it came to it.

at the mention of jon, something in her seemed to shift. her back stiffened, an anger uncharacteristic to dacey crossing her face. "we were all desperate." what had happened had broke something in dacey, perhaps beyond repair. she understood desperation, but this she could not condone. "there are still lines that should not be crossed. are not meant to be crossed." she understood her view of the world wasn't the norm, too idealistic, to unrealistic, especially for the north, but if this was the depths they were willing to stoop to, did that make them any better than those they would call enemies?

there was logic in what he was saying, but something tugged at the back of dacey's mind anyway. perhaps it was simply the fact she was born with all the caution other starks lacked, too much of it. she'd never been one for kicking a hornet's nest - and the situation at winterfell had never felt so complex. "was," she repeated, more of a musing than anything else.

"yes," she had to concede that, if nothing else, owen would want to know. "and yet you know all you have told me, and don't know if he does. which means you haven't told him, either." it was not an accusation, her words as gentle as they had been since the moment she entered the room. "and i understand our reasons may be different," she added. "but what good would it do? he can't stop her. she isn't here to stop."

♞

there was a level of self consciousness that became clear in the minor details of how she stood before him, and yet there had never been a time where he could not recall her in such a way. "easy to assume." he spoke, referencing the culture of karhold: they were further north than many, with their own dialect. the sun tongue. and dacey before him, had always remained the quiet princess, the soft princess, caught in the middle of the pack: who would ever hear the gnawing of paws upon the dirt of the earth when the others howled over each of her attempts?

"there are many who would be able to provide you with the real answers you seek." the north was rooted in ancient practices, a place so strange he almost forgot - that was until he was beyond the wall, visiting his uncle who remained the current lord commander of the night's watch. the desolate emptiness and the creeping knowledge of what remained beyond the wall, the strange practices that caused a chill to run down the back of his spine.

he could delve further into the information regarding what it was she sought that night, reveal the conversations they had within the wagon or atop horseback through all weathers as they passed through the neck. he was not knowledgeable enough about such practices, though he had gotten her message all too clearly: there was ample risk in what it was she was planning to do. he cleared his throat slightly as the memories of the night flooded back to him, the churning sound of the wind and the leaves beneath his feet as he witnessed her stood by a fire; and when she looked up at him, there was blood running from her nose. with eyes that remained black.

and perhaps he would have backed away rather than forward, if he had not been confronted with what it was the old gods could force upon mortals merely some weeks earlier. he'll never forget the way in which meera reed's body had remained warm, for the days they spent travelling for her to be entombed within karhold. the sight of her eyes as they opened, and she drew in a large amount of breath that sounded like her last all the while.

"i can confirm the princess spent time studying such practices. she had many associates within the woods." the witches, who too worked methods that could be used for good or for evil. brandon firmly believed it was not magic itself that was evil, but how it was to be used. "after the murder of the late prince, she was desperate." and those were all the words he was ready to say on the matter, until she spoke of perhaps not mentioning details to the king.

brandon found himself wondering how he had managed to stumble himself in such a situation - as though he had not sworn the personal matters of the starks was not his issue. and now, the princess admitted to perhaps withholding information from the king - information he knew. "we both know the fixation the king holds on knowing all the facts." brandon responded. speaking objectively about his closest friend, his closest companion: who had once been so much shorter than him. "he would want to know. she was his twin, in the end."

TRUTH SERUM

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

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

dacey's gaze whipped to aleksander, the surprise and hesitancy in her dark eyes softening when she realised that there was a familiar face behind the mask. "oh, i don't know. i think i would rather have yours. this feels a bit much for me," she waved a hand in front of her face, gesturing to the far more ornate mask that covered it. "we can always swap, if you like. and i mean that literally, by the way, not as an elaborate ruse to unmask you and take your coin."

who: @daceystvrk where: lann's day festival in lannisport

The inside of the mask was a little stuffy, but Aleksander would survive. The city was beautiful enough, colorful and lively. Finding Dacey amongst the growing crowd was a little tricky, but he managed eventually. He gave the side of her mask a miniscule flick. "You got a good one," he said, a chuckle coloring his tone. His hand rose to touch his own mask, unremarkable and rather plain. "I was less lucky. This was the last one they had left."

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 nodded her head. despite maisie's reassurance, she did not find herself much assured. but then, that was always the way with the princess. she thought too much, running through interactions again and again in her mind until she convinced herself she had made a horrible impression, that the person she was speaking with hated her guts. there was very few that she ever felt at ease with, and that was more true than ever when she found herself away from the north. whilst it was true that her home had been torn apart by war, only now beginning to rebuild, she still felt safer there than anywhere else.

"your cousin?" at that, dacey's gaze shot to maisie's face. she did not speak, much, about the divisions that were beginning to make themselves obvious. the eight, the loyallists, and the true north, the latter of which worried her the most. the whole thing made her nervous, and there was nothing she wanted more than to bury her head in the snow and pretend all was well, but that was proving more difficult by the day. had maisie herself picked a side? was that what she wanted to discuss? dacey did not know, and did not ask. neither did she offer the information that she herself had spoken to brandon karstark on the matter. that felt much too private. "of course." she said, instead. "we must all keep family close."

what was easier to answer was the question of whether she enjoyed her time in the west. to that, dacey let out a weary sigh. "i enjoyed lann's day." she admitted. "the festival. it was... more amusing than i expected. and the lion's tor was a beautiful place. peaceful." the rest of her time in the west, she had less kind words for. "but i must admit, i am not at ease here, and eager to return home. as for what happened to that poor woman..." the sight of alicent hightower being pierced with an arrow and struck by a horse lingered in her mind. "i wish i had not seen it."

Maisie Mormont was still getting used to all the excitement that was the West. In fact, many things were different from the North; especially the people and their attitudes. A little more daring, more... open. At least in his opinion, but the young woman couldn't be considered a reference either; she'd only left Bear Island a handful of times that she could be considered a baby in this world, despite her age. 

His eyes had taken in everything different there, but above all he had observed the behavior of the lords throughout the event. How the conversations looked like business, how the little activities looked like competitions. How everything was a way of imposing their names, it was funny, Maisie had to admit, at another time, she would undoubtedly enjoy the whole situation more; she would allow herself to have a bit of fun instead of all her exhibitionist posing and thoughtful interactions — she wanted to be seen, admired and also arouse any kind of interest she could. She needed to make herself known.

But at the moment, Lady Mormont's footsteps were taking her to the most relaxing place in the whole of the west: Princess Dacey's premises, someone she could call a friend, or something close to it. As she entered the room, she saw the princess in the midst of the bustle of tidying up. ❛❛Princess Dacey❜❜ a big smile appears on Maisie's face, ❛❛No need to apologize, I was in the middle of a mess myself earlier❜❜ She speaks to reassure the princess ❛❛I'll probably go with my cousins, I need to have a chat with my cousin about everything that's going on in the North❜❜ Mormont's lips twitch as he recalls the conflicts that have been going on ❛❛But what about you, are you okay? Have you managed to have some fun here?❜❜

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

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

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

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

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

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

@wintervsuns

in the face of past loss, dacey had crumbled. it had made her weaker, crumbling in on herself until all that remained was a ghost of a girl. this time, though, there was something different about it. perhaps she was just tired of being weak, or perhaps she had been dulled to what it means to lose someone, but her sister’s disappearance hadn’t cowed her. not this time.

instead of retreating further into herself, dacey had rolled her sleeves up and made herself useful. that began with clearing alysanne’s things, deciding what could be of use, what exactly dacey needed to step into her shoes. in the process of doing so, she had come across some things she didn’t quite understand, but looked important enough that she did not want to keep the discovery to herself.

that was what brought her to brandon karstark. if anybody could help her understand, he seemed a sensible first bet.

“lord karstark,” there was a tentativeness to her voice, a caution that made it clear she was very unsure of herself in the moment. “thank you for seeing me.” there was much she could say to him, but the words died in her throat.

“i was wondering if you could help me with something?”

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