She Hesitated Only For A Beat, Before Nodding Her Head. "thank You, My Lord." She'd Never Been Entirely

if there was one thing dacey was completely certain of, it was cassana's strength. where dacey had little, her sister, her baby sister, possessed it in spades. dacey had faltered so many times, crumbled under the slightest amount of pressure, but cassana had always stood proud and unyielding. it broke her heart to see her like this, but she understood it inherently.

"cass," there was something firm in her voice, an indication that what she was about to say was not to be argued with. "there is no apology needed. i was already awake, and you are welcome company." she paused, hesitating for a moment. "and even if i was, it doesn't matter. you can come to me no matter the hour." there was a gentle earnestness to her tone, an open invitation to seek dacey's door whenever it was needed.

a distraction. it was an easy enough to propose, but now the prospect of actually doing the distracting was before her, it was difficult to think exactly what she could do to provide relief from all Cass had been through. She absent-mindedly ran her fingers through Cass' hair, chuckling when she felt a knot towards the ends. "Your hair is all tangled," she couldn't help but chuckle as she spoke the words. "would you like me to fix it for you?"

.

cass closed her eyes, surrendering to the embrace of her sister's arms, finding comfort in their warmth and familiarity. though she was the youngest among them, she rarely sought such comfort from her siblings. she prided herself on her resilience, her ability to remain steadfast in the face of adversity that they always seemed to face. she was a wolf. a stark. yet, despite her efforts to maintain composure, she found herself crumbling beneath the weight of her emotions. why was this particular moment so different? why did she struggle to maintain her facade of strength? it was stupid, she was stupid for feeling this way.

a surge of guilt and embarrassment flooded through her, prompting a hasty apology. "i'm sorry, dacey. i shouldn't have woken you up," she murmured, attempting to dismiss how she was feeling.. but even as she spoke, she made no move to break free from her sister's embrace. her words felt feeble, even her lie felt stupid.

"perhaps a distraction would be good." cass suggested, her voice resonating softly in the darkness. something to help get her mind off of things, make her believe she wasnt being foolish. that the darkness didn’t suddenly frighten her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

there was a stark missing. who were they becoming?

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

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

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

a quick nod of dacey's head was the only acknowledgement given. it was not to say that she was ungrateful for maisie's friendship. it was quite the opposite. a friendly face was hard to come by, and harder still for one such as dacey. she was never one to be found at the centre of attention, she didn't seek glory or flattery or to fill her days with idle chatter and social events. reserved and quiet, finding someone like maisie, whose loyalty to the starks was not in question, was a rare and treasured thing. and yet, dacey held herself back, unable to say what was truly on her mind for fear of saying something entirely wrong.

the lady mormont's next words had dacey's hands stilling for another reason, another reminder of the men and women of the north who had been touched by loss and bloodshed. she could not think of any amongst them who had not felt its sting. from the neck to the wall, the north was united in grief, yet fractured in so many other ways. and just when it seemed it was over, more division raised its head. "of course," her tone was soft, filled with compassion for the losses maisie had endured. "it must have been a terrible transition for you." she could not imagine suddenly standing at the head of your house, when that was never a thing you were raised to be. "the wheel can be cruel."

a small smile crept across dacey's face, the revelation of maisie's childhood dreams an endearing one. they were not dreams she had ever harboured herself, a young, sickly girl hiding away in winterfell's towers. marriage then seemed such a distant, foreign thing, and in many ways that had not changed. she did not dream of love now, because she knew that as the sister of a king, her heart would always be secondary to his needs. "duty." the answer came without hesitation. if she was to be wed, it would be at owen's discretion. "perhaps there is a way you might have both." and she hoped that there was, that maisie would not have to give up on the hopes of girlhood.

"it is up to the gods to judge alicent hightower. i will not condemn her, but neither will i shed tears for her misfortune. i do worry what it may mean for the reach and new valyria." there was a storm brewing, and as much as this was not the concern of the north, she did not like it.

"I care about my King's happiness, but in this conversation, I want to assure you that I'll be by your side" Maisie Mormont answered on the tip of her tongue, a little too quietly for any of the girls in the west to hear, realizing the Princess's insecurity. Perhaps it was time for both of them to return to the North, to their home, where they wouldn't have to worry about the intonation of their breathing in public. Although Lady Mormont felt that things were more difficult for Dacey, perhaps it was a feeling that was on her mind with the princess herself. She would have liked to get closer to her, like a true friend, but she felt that her words were rather direct. A part of the brunette saw herself in her when she was younger. 

"My cousin went through a lot, there were losses that I felt too" Maisie's lips twitched, thinking about deaths had never been her strong suit. The woman didn't like to recall the image of a deceased person she loved, because one memory brought the other. Sarra, Rhydian, her father. And she couldn't give herself over to it completely, only pray to the gods to take their souls. "But the world around us doesn't stop, and that's sad, one day you're just a girl and the next, a Lady Regent" Her shoulders heaved with a small pinch on her cheek "We're always expected to keep pace with the wheel, no matter what the conditions" She ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to dispel any inappropriate feelings that arose and put a smile on her face, even if it was somewhat false. 

"I need to get married, the Mormonts need to stay in the North" he jokes, pulling a laugh from deep within his chest. "When I was younger, I always imagined myself getting married, it was my fun, you know? But now that it's become a responsibility... I just don't know, but what about you, Princess?" Maisie asks with genuine curiosity, "Marrying for love or out of duty?" She lets out a breath, even though she already knew the answer "She's going to pay for what she's done all her life, she's going to become a sick, crazy woman, I think it's a fair punishment for someone who was so arrogant to proclaim her son as king, the old gods take their toll" he whispers about the Hightower woman, only for Dacey Stark to hear. 

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?"

dacey held no ill will towards amir manderly. he, and his entire house, was trusted by owen, and that was good enough for her to trust them too, even if there was no personal ties to them. that was more her own fault than anybody else's. not for the first time in her life, she felt a pang of regret for the years she had spent shuttering herself away from the world.

but despite the fact that owen trusted him, despite the fact that she was, genuinely, pleased to see him safely returned home, despite the fact that not a single part of her felt any sort of negative feelings towards amir manderly, dacey felt herself tensing at his words, felt her fingernails begin to scrape at the freshly healed skin around her thumbs, and felt a flash of displeasure shoot through her that she didn't entirely know what to do with.

"contemplating?" she repeated, dully. "but likely to come to pass. am i correct?" if it did happen, it wouldn't be amir's fault. she had asked him a question, and he had answered it true. she could not place the blame at his feet for giving her an answer she had sought. and yet, to dacey's shame, this was something she had to remind herself of.

"it is not my safety that i'm concerned about." she was certain that amir meant the words kindly, but she felt herself bristle at them all the same, just a little. did he think her the type of woman who cared only for her own skin? "if there is to be war, then my brothers will fight in it. my sister, too, probably." her mind went to cassana, and the thought of it made her feel queasy. "i've no wish to see another stark go to the grave before their time." it was not just the starks. the north had seen far too much death and bloodshed. she was not ready to prepare herself for more.

❅

historically, amir of house manderly had maintained a healthy distance with the ladies of winterfell; which had come into greater use when they became princesses of the north. there was nothing questionable that they would have heard about him, nothing that was not written in those foolish pamphlets; meaning the king trusted him to speak with the princesses. he still did not maintain a closeness with them however, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised he never had.

"your highness." amir greeted, lowering his head before straightening back to his full height.

it only fed further into the thoughts that swirled in his mind, the thoughts of being the other in the north, the thoughts of not belonging and that they would always be this way. the ones to blamed, for their obvious power and wealth. he found himself wondering what this princess wanted. he did not want to hear talk of more grief, he did not want to talk about manal, or anything else; he did not want to talk about the grief that lingered over both of their houses.

because amir thought owen stark was in the right. because, when people were comfortable, they refused to change. to become better. the callouses on his hands were a sign of his own work ethic: his willingness to make himself uncomfortable. people did not do that unless you forced change upon them. his opinion was very much the minority in the realm though. "his grace remains contemplating, but it will not be as you think."

two sides meeting on a battle field. skagos was officially belonging to the north anyway; it was just about bringing them to heel. he did not want to go back there, but he would. he would rain down fury on all those who made him feel this way. like he did not belong - because he did not. "it will be on their front, rather than our own. you should be safe, princess."

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?"

anya's assumption that dacey was someone who could adapt well took the princess by surprise, for that was never how she saw herself. it was why she rarely left the confines of winterfell, where she felt most at ease. wherever she went, there was a feeling of being ill at ease, as though everyone who surrounded her was simply waiting for her to do or say something that would see her judged. at least in winterfell, she knew the places where she would not be seen.

"i'm flattered, but i've never felt that was the case." she admitted. "but we endure it, don't we?" and dacey endured it because she had to, because the queen in the north was dead, her elder sister was gone, and now she found herself the oldest of the stark princesses. there was nobody to hide behind anymore. the quiet places where she most found comfort were no longer hers to occupy. "but there are friends here, i think. i hope it is the same for you."

it must be. the more anya spoke, the more dacey was reminded that she had seen far more of the continent than the princess had, that she had lived an entire life before entering the world that dacey had been born into. "at least we are here together," she pointed out. "a home from home whilst here." it was a comforting thought. she wished she had words of wisdom to offer, but she would wager that she knew even less of the west than anya did, and did not think nasir manderly's words of caution would be particularly helpful in this moment. "i think it is best to be wary," it was as close as she would get to repeating the words of the north's hand. "but we are here for a celebration. it would be good, i think, to indulge your curiosity whilst enjoying what king tyland has in store." whatever this trip would throw at them, it could not be worse than the crownlands.

A foot in one world, a foot in another. Anya still felt that way; a lady by title and having a place in King Owen’s court while remaining a bastard by birth in the eyes of many, someone who still maintained a certain link to her life before. She couldn’t fully cut it, admittedly. In the North, that sense of being what she was, who she was, did not bother her at all. She was surrounded by people who had known her for a long time, people who knew what she stood for and the value she brought. In other realms, it was different, perhaps in none more than in the West.

It was somewhat of a relief to hear the Northern princess admit she felt out of place as well. If someone like Dacey felt that way, it almost was a sort of permission to feel it too. She was justified in her thoughts if the princess doubted as well. “Really? I always saw you as someone who adapts quite well to foreign places,” Anya confessed that thought, for she always saw the princess carry herself with confidence and grace.

The princess’ second admission managed to bring a little smile to Anya’s lips. “It’s not awful. I may have been thinking the same,” the raven-haired lady chuckled softly, raising a hand to cover that little laugh that escaped her. It felt as though the walls had ears and she wanted no one but the princess to hear her own confessions. “I know so little of the West in comparison to other places. I never travelled much here in the past,” she said, for her trips for blade commissions generally took her to the Vale, the Riverlands, or the Reach. The West was as rare a destination as was Dorne, one for the distance and the other for their reliance on their own master blacksmiths, she supposed. “I’m a little curious about this place. But I'll admit I am more intimidated than I am curious,” Anya added with a little shrug. She'd been crossing paths with some people who piqued her interest in a land and a culture so different from her own, but there was something in the court of lions that did make her uneasy, for they seemed like statues of ivory and gold; unapproachable in their elegance, saintly or heroic, but always untouchable.

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."