She Did Not Step Forward To Embrace Lillith, Nor Did She Offer A Barrage Of Greetings And Questions.

percival asked her to forgive him, and for a moment, a flicker of confusion crossed dacey's face - until she realised just how short her words had been. guilt gnawed at her, her head shaking. "there is nothing to forgive, my lord." she offered him a small, genuine smile. "in fact, i should be offering you my apologies. i did not mean to be short with you." her hands clasped before her, as they often did when she was trying to ground herself. "i am sure you can understand it's been rather a lengthy few days. long enough that i seem to have forgotten my manners."

he approached the tapestries, and dacey followed, looking upon threads she was so familiar with. "this one," she pointed to the relevant hanging, the one that told the tale of the night's king and his dead queen. "the man in the centre, in the night's watch armour, is the night's king. the armies approaching him are that of king brandon the breaker and the king beyond the wall. it is a story every northern child knows." it was one that had given her nightmares for weeks the first time she had been told of it, though she had never told anybody this, simply endured the dark circles and stifling yawns through her lessons as a girl.

"he was supposedly a brother of the night's watch who married an other and declared himself king of the nightfort, with his corpse queen at his side. he reigned for years, using dark magics to bend his sworn brothers to his will, until the two kings joined forces to defeat him." she lingered upon the tapestry for a moment, then turned to look at percival. "or he saw a pretty girl, manipulated the watch into following him, and the rest was embellished in the retelling over the years."

The tale of Adam Stark, the Giantslayer had reached the Vale, of course. It was a grand act that a man like him could admire, for it was the sort of tale that could echo in time to become a legend. His own mind was often geared toward legacy and what was in his hands to ensure the name Templeton remained as high as possible, soaring close to the name of Arryn in relation to the Vale. The Knight of Ninestars hummed lightly as the princess gave a very short recounting of the giant's head her family showcased. “I will make sure to ask him, then,” he said with a nod. “Forgive my curiosity, princess. I'm a knight, I'm sure you can imagine a man in my position can only admire what your brother did”.

It was not hard to miss that Dacey Stark felt more keen to speak of the tapestries, and the knight showed his eagerness to listen to those tales. The Knight of Ninestars walked closer to the wall to examine the detailed work of one of the pieces. The embroidery and weaving displayed imagery that was not so different from the paintings in his keep about the Battle of the Seven Stars, with the Templeton army on the side of the Falcon Knight, Artys Arryn. Battles and wars were the making of the world.

One thing caught his attention, though. “The Night's King?” he asked, turning to look at the Northern princess. Some knew it, some did not, but Percival Templeton did not believe in gods. He did not believe in dark forces beyond the Wall either. “The story of the Long Night and all that? Forgive me, I'm only vaguely familiar with that myth. I never gave much stock, or attention, to it when I was little,” he admitted as he glanced from the tapestry to the princess.

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."

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?"

TRUTH SERUM: It's time to make the 8! What one person would you bed from all the different regions of Westeros?

dacey's face flushed a deep scarlet. "that is not a question i am comfortable answering." even if she was not so private of a person, this would still feel far too personal. "certainly nobody from the westerlands or the crownlands." there was not a single person in either court she could see herself taking to bed. "hugo vance was kind to me, so perhaps he would not be objectionable." this was proving a very difficult question for her to answer. she found herself wondering who would be kind, and who had honour. "wylliam swann. percival templeton. ravi martell. brandon karstark."

TRUTH SERUM

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

dacey - devani - norbert - minthara - conall

closed starter for @feraylocke

dacey's return from the crownlands had been a slow, tedious progress, leading to her delayed arrival back in the north long after the rest of the stark's retinue had arrived home. she'd never travelled much before, and opted for a steady journey that could allow her to take breaks, should her health require it. that would prove to be a wise decision, for the princess had remained strong throughout the coronation and still fit and well now she had returned to her home.

but the feeling in winterfell was strange. the loss of the queen, coupled with the tension between the eldest stark siblings and all things relating to alysanne casting an odd sensation over familiar halls. dacey would do her best to see where she could help, how she could best support her elder brother, but not yet. first she had to clear her mind.

and so, it was to feray locke she had come. feray had long been a friend, the recipient of many letters from dacey over the years. the idea of seeing her in the flesh again was a welcome one.

"i apologise for the short notice, feray," an apologetic smile graced dacey's face as she greeted her. "i hope my visit isn't an inconvenience to you." she would be mortified if her visit had put feray out in any way, but such things couldn't be helped.

"how are you? did you enjoy the coronation?"

Truth serum: Would you say that you are pleased with your life as it currently is?

"no." the answer was quick, decisive. dacey was an empathetic person, she could recognise that there were others in a far worse position than she was. even that was a source of guilt, that she should feel such sadness when there were others that were dealing with just as much and worse, but still, she could not say her life was something she was pleased with, or proud of. "i miss my brother, and my sisters. i worry for the siblings left to me. i regret that i have spent so many years isolated from so much of the world. no. i am not pleased."

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.

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.

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?"