"it's An Artform I'm Familiar With." There Was A Sort Of Quiet Contemplation In Dacey's Expression. A

dacey smiled at the girl who came to deliver their refreshments, then again at seffora, murmuring a quiet "thank you" of her own as seffora poured her a drink. it was moments like this that she missed when she was in the north, and made leaving it all the more worthwhile. though winterfell was her home, it could often be a lonely place for someone with dacey's disposition. there weren't many dacey called a friend, but the northeners who did count amongst them were not much for sitting down for tea.

but with seffora, things were different. as much as there was a lightness around her, a sense of putting away the weight on her shoulders and just being, there was also a sort of trust. with seffora, it felt as though she could say anything, and trust that it would remain private, just for the two of them to know.

and so, when seffora mentioned the brother and sister who were gone, buried in the crypts below winterfell or vanished without a trace, dacey resolved to speak of the things she had said to none other. "thank you," she shuffled, her eyes coming to rest on the hands clasped together on the table. she had tried her best, in the past, to help seffora through her grief, so she did not carry it alone, but when it came to her own, she had clutched it so tightly to her chest, keeping it so private that she had not let it go. "i dream of jon sometimes," she admitted, though dream was perhaps too tame a word. "and alysanne... i am angry with her." she wasn't sure if she was ready to share exactly why, but there was a sort of ease in admitting the feeling existed nonetheless.

she picked up a pastry then, pulling it into small pieces, more for something to do with her hands. as seffora spoke, she nodded her head, understanding all too well when she meant. it was not simply empathy - the sentiment of feeling the imposter, as though they were standing in someone else's shoes was something dacey herself often felt. "that is good," she nodded, in response to the fact seffora was already attempting to remind herself of her own success. "and you should acknowledge the people who helped you, so long as it does not get in the way of acknowledging your own hard work." in that, she had no doubt. there were many lands in westeros that would benefit from having seffora merryweather as a ruling lady. "i am glad that you have so many people to count upon. very few can succeed alone."

There was a knock on the door, and after Seffora granted entrance to the servant girl, the tea and pastries she'd requested were delivered for the lady and the princess. “Thank you,” she said and the servant girl retired, closing the door behind her. Seffora smiled at her friend then and began to pour the warm drinks for the both of them.

Dacey's presence was a comforting one, for Seffora felt she could be herself without any pretense. She could like what she liked, she could fear what she feared, without being judged as a naive, silly young lady. Somehow, their girlhood persisted in each other's company, in a world that did its damnedest to rip that away from young women.

“Thank you,” Seffora said in response, fully aware that the princess' words were genuine, that her empathy was always true. It was relieving in a subtle and special way to know there were people like Dacey who accompanied her through her trials and tribulations, even from a distance. At a time in which Seffora ought to have felt as alone as ever, she did not. Thanks to Lucrezia, Laena, Tirius, Dacey, she did not. “I heard of the happenings in the North as well,” she said in a softer tone, “Of your brother. Of your sister”. She had written to Dacey then, but Seffora knew words on paper would never be a salve for the heart in matters of loss and uncertainty. Still, she hoped that perhaps the Stark princess did not feel so alone in those moments.

The Stark princess was a very wise woman too, and those last words she spoke really resonated with Seffora. Don't let your gratitude towards those who helped you overshadow your pride in your own actions. Her friend could read her so well, understanding that was a lingering insecurity that still existed in the Lady of Longtable's heart. “I quarrel with that thought from time to time,” she admitted, actually voicing out what Dacey's keen perception had already detected. “I do work to remind myself that I have done good, that I have set in motion positive outcomes for my people. Sometimes it does feel it was because someone else guided me, and like I might just be the imposter that dons the title of ruling lady,” she spoke in a calm tone, reaching for her cup of tea, softly blowing on the warm beverage. “I suppose it's the lingering effect of my father's vision of me. His voice comes back from time to time. But I also hold fast to the voice of others, like yours, like Sofina's, who raise me up rather than bring me down,” she said before taking a sip.

dacey nodded her head. one step each day. it was good advice in theory, if not for the fact that it felt like she was descending a steep set of stairs in the dark. if any of those one steps was on uneasy footing, she would go plummeting to the bottom. even when her feet found the ground, merely trying to find it made her stomach feel like it was trying to leap out of her throat. she had no idea if there was an end to the descent, but there had to be. seffora had similarly had to navigate her own darkened staircase, and now was starting to speak of the light at the end of it. perhaps, with time and patience, dacey could arrive there too.

she stayed quiet when seffora hugged her, her own arms coming up to hold her friend tight. she did not know if seffora knew how grateful she was for her support in that moment. though dacey had shared only a fraction of her worries, she felt lighter, unburdened in some ways. she made a mental note to send seffora a token of that appreciation before they returned to their respective lands once more.

"then you must be serious," the ghost-smile on her lips turned into something more genuine. dacey's melancholy had a permanent presence in her, but there were occasions where she could put it to the side, and this was one of them. "but you did not come all the way to the west to listen to my complaints. let's talk of happier things while we have time to spend together."

Seffora continued to hold her friend's hand, both grateful and saddened by this intimate space of trust and vulnerability the two shared. She never wished to see a loved one struggling, of course, but she also understood that sometimes it were the moments of an aching heart that brought people closer together. “One step each day,” she said to the princess. Some days it would be a step forward and some days it would feel like a step backward. And it was alright that it was so. Grief and heartache were not linear processes, she'd learned.

There was undoubtedly a warm, physical nature to Seffora in how she reached to hold hands or touch shoulders. For her most dear ones she couldn't help but wish to offer an embrace, and so she moved closer to Dacey to give her a hug.

“You can disagree,” Seffora chuckled then, her expression still soft, though with some more gladness in her eyes now “But know I will stubbornly insist upon it. It's the only thing I'm willing to contradict a princess about,” she half-joked. It was the beautiful thing about friends, she supposed, that she could see something in Dacey that the princess did not see in her herself, and vice versa. She experienced this with the Northern princess, and with Laena too —the subtle and tender ways in which they lifted each other up, trying to make the other see and recognize what others might have instilled into them to be blind to. It was the way in which girls —women— could do more than just survive in this world, but actually learn to thrive.

his mask slipped a little, and while she felt a pang of guilt, it was not enough to offer to swap back. in this matter, dacey decided she would be completely selfish. "you can always take it off, if it's too cumbersome for you," there was a faux innocence laced in her tone. "i'd be happy to take it off your hands. for the purposes of the competition, of course." her arm slid through his, leading him to the festival games and looking for something aleks might excel in. "what of this?" she pointed to a wooden crank. from what she could understand, it was a test of strength, the aim being to use one arm to get the crank to turn to a right-angle. it reminded her of an arm wrestle. "you are strong."

He saw her suppress a laugh as Aleksander had finally fixed his mask in place, the ridiculous ornate thing heavier than his simple one had been. Dacey's amusement came as no surprise and when he lifted his hand to nudge to mask back into place after it had slipped a little, Aleks couldn't help the small, albeit equally amused, sigh that escaped him. He huffed, then, offering his arm for the Princess to slip her own through. "Right. Your Highness deserves nothin' but the best," there was slight mockery in his tone, but in no way malicious. The Princess Dacey did deserve good things. That did not mean Aleks couldn't make jokes. He led them towards the stands with the Games, contemplating which one might be the best to play.

she did not step forward to embrace lillith, nor did she offer a barrage of greetings and questions. it was not the way of dacey stark, even with those she was closest to, and yet, there was a warmth in her expression that was nothing to do with the hearth they stood at. lillith understood that, and for that, dacey was endlessly grateful.

it was why the tense set of her shoulders relaxed, even as her gaze dipped to the floor. "if only it were not so loud," she said, with a self-deprecating chuckle. winterfell was bursting at the seams with life, but their time here together in their younger years had been spent in quieter halls. dacey far preferred the latter.

she glanced behind her, further down the hall, where voices and laughter mingled with music. "sometimes i think i wasn't made for this," she confessed. it wasn't just sometimes - it was always, forever trying to fit a role she wore uneasily. there was no bitterness in her tone, nor any trace of self-pity, just a weariness she could not deny.

her lips curved into the smallest of smiles, and she nodded her head, a quick, nervous gesture. it was not to do with lillith - her patience, the way she allowed space to exist without demanding it be filled, were often what dacey needed. she trusted her, but she did not trust the ears around them. and so, she saved what it was she held close to her chest, to reveal another time.

she nodded her sympathies. the north was a harsh place, demanding much of those who travelled it. "the weather has been unkind of late. it makes the roads a little more difficult to traverse." she lifted her gaze from the floor, green eyes raising to meet lillith's mismatched ones. "and how fares the vale? ironoaks?" it had been a long time since dacey had visited the mountains of the moon - not once during queen ravella's reign.

"you'd think i'd be used to the cold by now, but it still catches me sometimes," she laughed again, the sound a little lighter now. "the trick isn't to stand by the hearth, but the walls. the hot springs under winterfell provide heat to them, and the stone spreads it." she looked back towards the fire then, watching the flame twist and dance. "but i suppose it is only human to seek out the fire instead."

lillith stood beside the princess, the warmth from the hearth pulling at the edges of her gown, but it did little to thaw the chill that clung to dacey’s frame. it was always the same—no matter how close she stood to the fire, her hands remained cold. lillith could see it, could sense the quiet unease in her friend, and a small part of her wished she could somehow fix it. but she knew better than to offer empty words of comfort.

“i’m glad to see you too,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above the crackling of the fire. she took a small step closer, her presence a quiet reassurance, though she gave dacey space to remain within herself. lillith didn’t need to speak often, not with dacey; they had always shared an unspoken understanding.

when her friend shifted slightly, as if to gather herself, lillith’s gaze softened. she could feel the heaviness in her friend’s silence, the weight that hung just beneath the surface, something too deep to put into words right now. lillith wasn’t one to push, but the concern was there, palpable in the stillness between them.

the other's words, displacing her question for another moment, elicited a nod of understanding, and an offering of a faint smile that was both comforting and respectful of the boundary the other had set. there was no need to press. “of course,” she said quietly. “i’ll wait for the time when you’re ready.” she was always happy to bear the burden, even if unspoken.

her fingers brushed the edge of her gown, the fabric soft beneath her touch. “the journey here... it was long.” she admitted, never quite mincing her words, but her tone was not in any way harsh, simply, it was.

lillith had grown used to the chill, even in the colder months of ironoaks, where the wind could howl across the moors. still, it was a different kind of cold here—more biting, more oppressive. she could feel it in her bones, no matter how close she got to the fire, and she knew dacey felt it too, despite growing within this place. "the chill makes one want to simply leap into the hearth, huh?"

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”.

there was a peace to the godswood that dacey had not felt since they had passed the neck, and left the north, the leaves above whispered to one another, any trace of the city far removed from where the two found themselves. when she fell quiet, she thought she could still vaguely hear it - the sounds of chatter and life, carried on the wind, so faint that it may have been her imagination. and when she listened even harder, she was sure she could hear the faint, nervous thump of her own heartbeat.

"it's not," a wry sort of smile came over dacey's face. "the further we came from the north, the more i wanted to turn around and run back." it was never an option, not really. even if it had have been possible, dacey never would have asked for it, never would have made such a fuss that such an arrangement would be necessary. "i don't know how you did it. in braavos." there were some who thought little of travel, who found it within themselves to fly from their home like birds migrating from winter. she did not this that was naelys. and yet, she had done it, something dacey could not say for herself. "i think you're very brave for that."

that feeling of kinship only deepened as naelys continued to explain herself. how often had dacey bit her tongue, allowing her own thoughts and feelings to go unspoken because she was afraid of asking for too much, of taking space that wasn't hers to take? how often had she felt the urge to be seen, battling with the urge to go unnoticed. her gaze dropped to naelys' hands, restless and clasped together, and it was a gesture she recognised all too intimately. for a moment, dacey said nothing, standing in the quiet of the godswood with no sound but her own breath and the steady beat of her heart.

"may i take your hand for a moment?" the question was quiet, and she made no movement with her own to do so until naelys' response was given.

"i see you," dacey said, softly. "or at least... i think i do. and i think i see myself, too, if that makes sense. or at least, someone who understands me." she hesitated, as though the right words were shrouded to her, stuck somewhere behind the trees and between the leaves. "even when i can't quite explain myself. i feel as though you might know already."

dacey was a woman who moved through the world with caution, as though her mere presence would disrupt the very balance of it. it was smaller with naelys, as though she could breathe, as though she could add a little more of her own weight to the scales before they tipped. as though it was all right.

"i see you," she repeated, a little more confidently. "the parts that are quiet. the parts that are loud. and none of it is too much. it's just... right."

and she was glad to have been a comfort to naelys. it made her feel less selfish, that she had taken comfort from naelys, too, to know that she had been able to give a little back. "and you to me," she murmured. "more than you know." a soft laugh escaped her then, a small shake of her head that sent dark hair rippling in the afternoon breeze. "i know my gods are not yours, and i did not think to find them on the steps of a sept... but perhaps they were more present than i thought they could be in the city. they brought me to you."

¿

naelys walked beside dacey, feeling the weight of the years they had spent in letters and distant words now coming alive in the space between them. the cobblestones beneath their feet grew quieter as they neared the godswood, the rustling of trees above them blending with the soft rhythm of their steps. there was a tension in naelys, a quiet discomfort she couldn’t fully shake. her hands, clasped tightly in front of her, were an admission of that, an attempt to hold herself steady in a moment that felt almost too real.

dacey, half a step behind, seemed to mirror that same restraint. there was an understanding in it—something familiar, something shared.

"i understand," naelys said quietly, her voice carrying that familiar warmth, though there was a trace of uncertainty beneath it. "it's not easy, is it? to leave behind what’s familiar." her gaze shifted briefly to the horizon, the trees in the godswood standing tall like silent sentinels, and she wondered if dacey, too, saw the same thing—if, like her, the unknown had felt daunting at times. naelys had taken much courage to remain within braavos during those unstable, fearsome days; but she had made it through to the end. "i—" naelys took a breath, not expecting the weight of that assurance to settle so deeply within her. she hadn't realized how much she had carried with her—the fear that the person in her letters might not meet the person standing in front of dacey now.

"thank you," she said quietly, but the words felt like they didn’t quite capture the weight of what she felt.

"it's just," she continued, her hands tightening, "i never knew if i was...too much." it was a simple admission, but one that felt like it had been waiting in her chest for years. the letters had been easy, safe, but now standing in front of dacey, the fear of not living up to those words felt more real than ever. she found herself looking at dacey, the way her voice had softened as she spoke, the warmth in her words that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. "i think," naelys said after a long pause, "i've always wanted to be seen. truly seen, for who i am, not just the words i write or the persona i create." she smiled faintly, unsure if it was even the right thing to say, but trusting dacey enough to voice it anyway.

"and for some reason, i look at you and think...she sees me. do you get that too?"

"you’ve been a comfort to me, dacey," she continued, her words becoming more certain now, "even when you didn’t have to be. and i don’t think i’ll ever forget that." the truth of it felt like a weight lifted from her chest, something she had been carrying without even realising how much it meant to her. they were almost to the godswood now, the trees ahead standing like quiet sentinels, their leaves rustling gently in the wind. "i suppose," naelys said, her voice quieter now, "it’s strange, isn’t it? how we’ve come this far. from letters to here." she felt a warmth spread in her chest. "but i’m glad ever you went to the wrong place of prayer."

it wasn't that dacey wasn't enjoying herself. in fact, aleksander's feast was a welcome reprieve from everything, but as the night went on, she found herself growing more and more overwhelmed as the attendants grew more and more inebriated. making her excuses, she slipped from the hall, alone, seeking a short break from the festivities.

her moment of solitude didn't last long. the gracious host's voice reached her, and dacey turned her head to face him, smile on her lips.

"not yet, i'm afraid. i just wanted a little air." eyes raked over aleksander, noting his unsteadiness. she was glad that he seemed to be enjoying himself - it was, after all, his night. "would you like to join me?"

who: @daceystvrk where: a hallway outside the great hall

Perhaps Aleksander had indulged a little too much. The Lady Greenleaf had given him a magnificent gift with that bottle they'd shared, but it had made him a little unsteady on his feet as well. Aleks found himself craving a bit of fresh air, but he got no farther than the hallway right outside the noisy Great Hall. Candles lined the walls in their flickering orange glow, casting long shadows.

Aleks braced his palm against the cool stone. A smile split his lips as he caught sight of Princess Dacey. "Tired of the party already, your Highness?"

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."

dacey did her best to look put together, but she was by no means a fashionable person. what she called timeless, others would call boring, her outfit choices always perfectly fine, in a classic sort of way, but very safe. she was a creature of habit, and she very much stuck to what she knew.

it was why she was grateful for lucrezia, someone to bounce ideas off and tell her if she was too boring, or too out there, or not quite on theme. it was going to be an important night, and it was one of the rare times dacey was putting a concentrated effort into what she was going to wear.

"i honestly don't think so," she mused, looking up from the ipad she was using to scroll pinterest and see what outfits other had put together. none felt quite right for her, though many were lovely. "she might hint at it, but there's a pattern. whenever she puts an album out, she does two re-records the year after. so i think reputation will be next year, at the earliest. it would be too soon to announce it."

her mouth opened in a small 'o' shape, and she nodded her head. "oh, i love the august dress. it's so dreamy." she moved back to the search bar, typing in 'taylor swift august dress' and scrolling through the various colour options until she found one she thought would work with her complexion. "what colour were you thinking? we should all wear a different one, i think. just so we look a little different to one another."

who: @daceystvrk

there was serious business afoot within the hotel room of dacey stark; various sketches on a table, and a few ipads with different pinterest pictures and links being pulled up. the girls had a special night to plan for having obtained tickets for closing night in london; and it was agreed they would wear folklore inspired outfits.

"do you think she'll announce reputation? we've been wrong multiple times now. what is it, like four?" lucrezia asked, a glow of genuine excitement coming over her face as she peered over the pinterest screen, scrolling down almost mindlessly, trying to find something.

"the vault tracks will be so good too." she looked up at dacey, a third chair vacant for when feray would be able to join them. she checked her phone for any texts from their third missing member, wanting to ensure she did not ghost on feray. "are you thinking a dress? you'd look lovely in the august dress."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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