Cathy Park Hong, From "Spring And All"

closed starter for @amirofmanderlys

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

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

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

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

war had left dacey feeling both far too hollow and far too full. the parasitic gnawing that had taken root in her stomach seemed to devour a little more of who she was every day, taking with it everything that made her feel whole and clean and dacey and leaving behind only an increasingly debilitating feeling of despair. there was sorrow and grief, yes, and a resounding sense of worry that was only natural given her sibling's roles in the war, but guilt and shame also - both because she knew she was not the only one to taste loss, and because here, barricaded behind winterfell's walls, dacey had proven herself to be nothing short of useless.

she preferred it at night. even on nights like tonight, when the castle was not-quite empty, it was more hushed. easier to move and breathe and be. at night, it was almost easy to pretend.

tonight was a little different - solely for the presence of sylvi cerwyn. her words brought dacey from her stupor, one that had her gazing pensively at the hearth she sat before, and she nodded a polite greeting. her mouth opened to exchange idle pleasantries, but she paused at the question. she could lie, and say she was faring well, that she was comfortable and at ease. it was what she would normally do. but tonight, she was just too tired to pretend anymore.

"poorly." the admission was a single word, but in it was more of an insight into her mind than she had given anybody in months. dark eyes lifted from the embers to meet sylvi's own, an attempt at a smile flitting across her features before dying. "though in the grand scheme of things, i haven't earned the right to complain." the rare moment of self-pity passed as quickly as it came over her, her face scrunching in an expression of concern. "i should be asking you that question. are you well?"

setting : the feast hall of winterfell, the hour is later and less people are wandering about, by the hearth, sylvi cerwyn spots one of the princesses and approaches her to talk (this is sort of flashbacky since it's during the war) ; starter for @daceystvrk

the walls of winterfell were cold to the touch, frigid upon lady of cerwyn's fingertips as she grazed them upon it's smooth surface as she wandered. sleep did not greet her easily these days, her children had long gone to bed, and there seemed to be a sort of tension that filled the air. so much had already been lost, so much uncertain. sylvi tried not to think of her own husband, of her dear friend brandon, of cassana...

she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the smell of firewood, ale, and stew as she entered the feast hall. she was both surprised and not to see others still lingering, mostly women and elder men. many spoke in hushed tones, perhaps either do to the lateness of the hour, or the topics of conversation. surely they all had someone they worried for, too. sylvi only hoped that all of their troubles would soon cease, that things would settle down quickly.

near the hearth, she spotted one of the stark princesses, dacey, the one who had always been quiet, a flower amidst the snowy landscape, frozen in time. she was kind, though, and likely racked with worry. "your grace," sylvi spoke softly as she approached the other, taking the seat next to the young woman, extending her hands to the hearth and flexing her fingers as she felt the coldness melt from her limbs. "how are you faring?" it was perhaps a silly question, but sylvi had always had an approach of getting straight to the topic at hand without talking around it.

as much as dacey did not enjoy large groups, she did enjoy speaking with people. moreso with people she knew well, and who knew her in turn, but in her best of moods, though she remained quiet and shy, she did take joy in conversations with people she knew a little less of. baelon was one of the people she knew by name, but not really much else of. as she had spent most of her life hidden in winterfell, she had heard that he was much the same in dragonstone, using ancestral walls as a shield. and yet, he had made the journey here, when he could have easily remained in his home.

"and we greatly appreciate that you undertook such a journey to be here," she was quick to deflect any gratitude back to him. after all, this ball was not her choice, nor did she help in the organisation. any appreciation was not her due, but that of her brother, of the hand. "if you would like, i can take you inside for some refreshments while your things are taken to your quarters. or if you would prefer to stretch your legs, the winter gardens? it's warmer in there." she was sure that, being from so far south of here, he must be feeling the cold. "i'm certain my brother will be glad to see you here, too."

Baelon had assumed that his cousin did not get any sort of invitation to this event, it would be a shame if he had to come face to face with the man who he believed stole the throne that should be rightfully his. But judging by the lack of relations between the north and the crownlands, it was safe to say that the only Targaryens in Winterfell will be himself and his sister. Owen and the North had always been loyal, always kept their oath and their word, Baelon knew that would not change now.

The voice coming from his side caught his attention and Baelon turned around to face the person with a friendly smile. This was a nice change of scenery, while Baelon had been keeping mostly to himself in Dragonstone, only ever leaving the castle when he would go down to the villages to interact with the small folk, it would be nice to see and speak with new people. Or with people that he had not seen in some time, like Princess Dacey. “Princess.” He greeted her, before nodding his head. “It was certainly long and tiring but all went well, I’m glad that we have finally arrived.” He paused. “Thank you for having us and your hospitality, we greatly appreciate it.” There was honesty on his voice, it wasn’t just about this but everything that happened in the past too. Baelon was thankful to them and their loyalty. “I hope you are faring well? I’m looking forward to seeing your brother again too, it's been sometime since we last spoke.”

closed starter for @nasirofmanderlys

dacey was not a bold person. she had little of her siblings courage. when she entered a room, it was with her head lowered, determined not to draw attention to herself. she did not covet the feeling of eyes on her, but the last few months, though fraught with the stress of loss, had had the unintended side effect of pushing her from her comfort zone. more visible and more involved than she had perhaps ever been, she held her head a little higher these days, even if only to give the impression that she actually knew what she was doing.

however, if there was anybody guaranteed to send her scuttling from the room, gazed fixed firmly on her own feet, it was nasir manderly. it wouldn't be accurate to say dacey did not like nasir - it was just that she was very, very aware that he held little regard for her. being unnoticed wasn't something that bothered dacey much. she actually preferred that, in many ways. but nasir manderley's words, so long ago, had given her the distinct impression that he plain disliked her, and that, she found harder to deal with.

and so, she responded in the only way she knew how - by completely avoiding him. if she entered a room and saw him there, she shot to the other side of it, or made her excuses and left. it wasn't a snub, on her part - simply a desire not to force her company where it. a kindness.

and so, when she noticed nasir in this room, she was quick to say her goodbyes and take her leave. that was, until she heard someone calling her name. she turned to look for who had called out to her, but failed to spot them. what she did see was nasir, standing close enough to her that she couldn't avoid him without being rude, and looking her dead in the eye.

"lord manderly," she managed to keep her voice steady. that was about all she managed, though. her mouth opened, then closed again, her brain completely devoid of all logical thought. how long had it been since she'd last spoken to him? she had to say something. "have you been to the westerlands before?" it was good enough.

dacey did not relish in being perceived, the idea of someone seeing her for what she was filling her with a sort of anxiety she couldn't truly voice. she was more comfortable when she could slip into the quiet places between conversations, existing in the periphery while others took to the centre. with lucius, though, she did not mind so much. perhaps it was the fact that she knew that any judgement he had of her would be spoken aloud. there was an honesty to him that she appreciated, even when he laid what she saw as her own failings bare before her in that simple, straightforward way of his.

"it is," she admitted, a sheepish sort of smile crossing her face. "it's not... it isn't that i don't like people. i do, very much. but like this," she gestured first at herself, then at him, wordlessly indicating that it was the smaller, more personal interactions that she enjoyed. "there's something about being part of a crowd that makes me feel like i'm out of place." her eyes fell on the river, water surging gently forward. "it's like everyone is watching me trying to hold water with my hands, and laughing that it keeps slipping through. does that make sense at all?" there was a flush upon her face as she looked at him, and she could not recall the last time she had tried to put those thoughts into words, nor if anybody had ever asked.

lucius had already offered his own thoughts on the matter ; but even if he had not, dacey was not clueless enough not to be able to guess at why he might not enjoy crowds of people, even if it did not come from the same place that her own need for quieter spaces did. his mention of performance, though, surprised her, for it was at odds with the vision that she held of him. "and yes. the performance of it," she paused for a moment, as though weighing up whether to say more. "i wouldn't have expected that to be the same for you." it was not a question, but phrased lightly enough for him to elaborate if he wished to, or ignore if he did not.

Lucius nodded, making a mental note to talk with Cassana, extending his offer if the younger Stark wished to take it. His eyes flickered to his cousin, a touch of amusement present in his usually stern expression. “Aye, stubbornness is in our blood,” he agreed, letting out a subtle scoff. It was certainly not a trait the bastard attributed to whatever line his mother came from, but something he was sure he'd gotten from Samwell Blackwood and his kin. Only rarely did he wonder what traits he might have gotten from her because the bastard knew him himself to be Blackwood blood through and through. And Dacey, despite the air of introverted gentleness that she carried herself with, was a determined young woman, from what he'd gleaned in their past interactions. A stubborn nature could manifest in many ways, and both Starks and Blackwoods were a testament to that.

The pair walked on the quieter side of the river and he glanced at his cousin, his eyes lingering on the soft gratitude she offered him. Hers was a gentle warmth that stood in stark contrast to the steeliness of his own demeanor. There was commonality between the cousins, as they spoke about earlier, but for the most part, Lucius Rivers and Dacey Stark were almost perfect opposites. Despite that, he found himself at ease in her company. “You don’t like crowds,” he observed. Lucius’s gaze was sharp, perceptive. A lot of people saw only a big brute in him, but he did see more than most gave him credit for. More than once he'd run into his cousin as she walked on her own. “Too many eyes, too many voices. And the endless performance. It's exhausting,” he stated, offering his own perceptions on the matter, his own reasons for wishing to oftentimes stand on the side of it all. He did wonder what was the part that caused his cousin to trail away.

starter for @allysannestark

there was something about this that was so reminiscent of better years that it almost hurt. there were some things that came as naturally as breathing, a padding to her sister's room late at night when she could feel her health declining was one of them.

it had been a long time since dacey had sought help for anything. by nature, she was wary of making a nuisance of herself, and even warier still when she knew that there were other, more important things to think about. there was another side to it, too, the side that reminded her of being a sickly child, skinny as a reed with a delicate constitution to boot.

tonight, she had held out for as long as she could before the wheeze in her chest became unbearable. she knew from experience trying to sleep through a bad cough was a recipe for disaster, and her ribcage ached from exertion. she had admitted defeat - and that had brought her here. to her sister.

"alys?" there was only a few years between them, but something about alys felt just as maternal as she did sororal. the childish awe she had always felt around her had never gone away. "I don't feel well."

closed starter for @hxrundxne

"welcome to the north, your grace."

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

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

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

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

dacey was trying her best, but there were times when that just wasn't enough. it overwhelmed her, crowds and people and the feeling of being on display, and that was what had her slipping away from the feast inside. she knew casterly rock not at all, and so it was here, to the stables, where the direwolf she had brought with her from the north was being housed.

she had managed to calm herself down when she stepped from the stables, until the crunch of gravel and a voice she had not expected startled her. dacey visibly jumped, though she did not cry out, silent, even when caught unawares. it took a moment for her to recognise the man who had stepped from the shadows - axell royce was not somebody dacey knew well. her hands clasped before her, an attempt to ground herself and assuage the temporary panic she had felt, though the anxiety she had been attempting to rid herself of bubbled up again.

it was not just her general discomfort with people she did not know. whispers clung to axell royce like his own shadow. dacey was no gossip, but she could see how they had started. still, she was not one to let her apprehension show, nor to be rude. her face arranged itself into a tentative, abashed smile, and she brushed a stray piece of hay from her gown. "forgive me, my lord. you startled me."

he spoke with something like disdain about the festivities, and she let out a polite laugh, too reserved in her ways to outright disagree with him, even though that was not what drew her here at all. "it is the way of the west, i think, to ensure their grandeur is the first thing any of us notice." that much was true, a neutral statement somewhere between his own and the truth, that the opulence here overwhelmed her, that she found herself craving something quieter and more like home.

she would not say that out loud, though, even when the conversation took a turn for her to explain why she, a princess of the north, had wandered off alone. she was certain he would find her reasoning quite ridiculous. instead, she reluctantly let one hand slip from the others grip, gesturing the the stable box where her wolf lay. "i just wanted to check on rose. my direwolf," she explained, quickly. "they unsettle the other dogs, so it is better to keep them in the stables. only, i was worried she would be howling, and making a nuisance of herself." it was a lie. dacey's wolf was a quiet, gentle soul, much like the woman herself, but he need not know that.

"what of you, my lord? just looking for a moment of peace?"

closed starter for: @daceystvrk setting: flashback to the westerlands gathering before the north left early. axell's wife has been missing for a few months now and word has only just begun to be spread to the other kingdoms

the air near the stables smelled of sweet hay and horses, a sharp contrast to the perfume-soaked halls of casterly rock. the celebration roared on inside, but out here, it was quieter, save for the occasional distant echo of laughter and music filtering through the stone corridors. axell royce had never been a man for grand feasts and courtly pretense, not when there were more important matters to tend to. and tonight, his focus had shifted to one particular matter—princess dacey stark.

she was a rare sight outside of winterfell, and even rarer to find alone. meek, quiet, unassuming in his eyes. the kind of woman who did not draw attention to herself, who moved like a whisper rather than a storm. axell liked that. he had seen too many women with sharp tongues and wandering gazes, women who brought trouble.like his late wife. maybe it was time for a change. he did not want trouble. he wanted control. and a stark princess, tied to the great north, bound to him by name and duty—well, that was an opportunity worth taking.

he stepped forward, boots crunching lightly against the gravel, making his presence known. “princess.” his deep voice cut through the cool air, smooth but edged with something heavier. he inclined his head slightly, the closest thing to a proper greeting he would offer. “didn’t think i’d find a stark hiding out here among the horses. tired of all the pomp and spectacle inside?”

he leaned casually against the stable door, his imposingly large frame filling the space. his dark eyes studied her carefully, weighing her reaction. “can’t say i blame you. there’s little worth entertaining in a hall full of peacocks.” a pause, calculated. “though, i must admit, i didn’t expect to find you here alone.” he let the words hang, inviting her to speak, to give him something—anything—to work with.

Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry written in October 1920, featured in The Diary of Virginia Woolf: Vol.2, 1920-1924

the grip on her hand was grounding, reassuring and rare. the comfort of physical touch was a rarity for dacey, who had spent too long walling herself in, isolating herself from the world, making such acts of affection difficult to come by. in the end, it was all for nothing. it hadn't stopped grief reaching her, hadn't stopped her heart feeling heavy. she gripped seffora's hands, sore fingers curling tightly around those of her friend.

"unfair," it was the first time someone had offered her a word to explain what it was that was weighing her down. silently, she nodded her head. "yes. it does." and though she agreed with the sentiment, with the feeling that a great injustice had been done, trying to pinpoint what that injustice was had her furrowing her brow. there was a great heartlessness in wondering if the unfairness came from jon dying, and not alysanne, before she could have made a choice that was now dacey's to clean up the wreckage of. there was a great selfishness in believing that it was their fates that were the unfairness, that the death and vanishing and the fact dacey was forced to endure.

her throat cleared, ridding it of its tightness. dacey would not weep, not when others could see her do so. she did not think any had ever seen her cry, her tears reserved for when she found herself alone. as much as seffora was her friend, and she trusted her, felt more at ease here than she had done in so long, she would not break the habits of a lifetime now. "thank you," and she meant it, her appreciation shown in the slight squeeze of seffora's hand. "but i don't think there is anything that can be done, apart from finding a way to... keep going forward, i suppose." that was something seffora had done, and done well, but whilst there were similarities in their tragedies, seffora had something to focus on. longtable, and it's people. for dacey, there was no such distraction.

a glimmer of a smile crossed her face, and then, dacey let out a laugh, the very idea of smiling after the turn their conversation had taken something that was funny to her in the strangest of ways. "i'm inclined to disagree." a wise woman would have done things very differently to dacey, would know how to navigate the mess she could not seem to unravel. "though it is gratifying to know that i have you fooled." a poor jest, but perhaps that was what was needed to clear the heaviness that had enveloped them

It was instinctive for Seffora to reach out and hold Dacey's hand. There were no words that ease the feelings that came with losing a sibling, that she knew from her own experience. The princess had buried a brother in the Winterfell crypt and knew nothing of the whereabouts of one of her sisters. There really was nothing the Merryweather lady could say in such a situation, and so she only offered comfort and company in the best way she knew how: in a small gesture to show Dacey that she was not alone.

The Lady of Longtable listened in silence as the Northern princess spoke. Her friend was quiet and reserved in nature, so she deeply understood the weight of her opening up to her. Seffora held her hand a bit tighter. She wasn't sure if she should prompt the princess to speak more on the subject. Sometimes it was best to let the other person share what they felt ready to share. “It feels unfair, doesn't it?” she ended up saying, however. It was unfair to lose a loved one. It was unfair to have a sibling stir up trouble and bring forth heartache. She thought about it because it was eerie and heartbreaking how similar their circumstances were to some degree. Both of them lost a sibling who was taken before their time, as happened with Sofina and Jon. Both of them had a sibling bring unnecessary strife and conflicting emotions to them, as happened with Sienna and Alysanne.

“I know there is little I can do in a situation like this,” she began. Seffora had just thought about it mere moments ago, how being there and offering some comfort might be the only thing someone like her had to offer. But still, she felt compelled to continue. “But I don't want it to go unsaid. If there is anything I can do —anything at all, for you and your family, you need only ask, Dacey”. And for her friend, Seffora would give it.

Again, Seffora's hold of the princess' hand tightened ever so slightly. “You have so much wisdom in you, you know?” she mused with a soft smile on her lips. Dacey was without a doubt one of the most insightful and wise people she'd encountered and for that, the lady felt fortunate. You should acknowledge the people who helped you, so long as it does not get in the way of acknowledging your own hard work. It was certainly the sort of mantra to remember for the future.