GENEVIEVE GAUNT In THE ROYALS

GENEVIEVE GAUNT In THE ROYALS
GENEVIEVE GAUNT In THE ROYALS
GENEVIEVE GAUNT In THE ROYALS
GENEVIEVE GAUNT In THE ROYALS

GENEVIEVE GAUNT in THE ROYALS

More Posts from Daceystvrk and Others

1 year ago

there was something disconcerting about being in the westerlands. that gnawing feeling of unease had been blooming in the pit of dacey's stomach since the starks had left the crownlands, notably absent two sisters. she had thought of little else in the days since, spending her nights obsessing over their fates, wondering if there was more she could have done. she hadn't wanted to come, but she could also not deny that she would feel the same anywhere. it didn't matter if she was in winterfell, or the west.

still, she was on edge, but the sight of one familiar face offered relief. margaret blackwood looked like dacey felt, and she could not blame her for that. house stark was suffering, but so too were her cousins. she had heard the news of merindah's death, and was so intimately familiar with loss herself that she knew exactly how the other woman must be feeling.

There Was Something Disconcerting About Being In The Westerlands. That Gnawing Feeling Of Unease Had

the greeting was unusual for margaret, but dacey caught on quickly. she nodded her head, returning it with one equally formal. "lady blackwood," despite the rigidity of her tone, she reached out one hand, fingers briefly making contact with maggie's own and squeezing in a way she hoped communicated all they were not saying aloud. she wished this was a more joyous reunion.

she struggled for a moment to think of the right words to say, but there were none. instead, dacey elected to throw caution to the wind. she could not pretend. "i am very sorry. to hear of your sister. if there is anything i can do..." she trailed off. what could she do? what support could she offer? "how are you holding up? and your brothers?"

setting: the kingdom of the westerlands, when the other kingdoms begin arriving, margaret runs into her cousin ; starter for @daceystvrk

steps that once felt so confident and airy felt entirely too weighty for the lady of raventree, who could not help but be hyper aware of her surroundings in the westerlands. she could not tell if it was this kingdom in particularly that unsettled her, or being, once again, in foreign lands after her sister’s passing. even now it felt too quiet without the younger blackwood chittering in her ear. she recalled praying for a more silent journey to her next destination, but now the silence haunted her.

the great hall was bustling with guests, she recognized some faces from the other kingdoms, but not the names. she catapulted back to their time in king’s landing, but she knew it were important to either impress, or go by unnoticed, for their own soon to be queen was a princess of these very lands.

Setting: The Kingdom Of The Westerlands, When The Other Kingdoms Begin Arriving, Margaret Runs Into Her

margaret found some reprieve in one of the many corridors, intriguing artwork lining the walls, and she placed herself in front of one of the paintings in an attempt to look as if she were doing…*something*. hazel hues turned at the sound of footsteps, and she found relief in the sight of her cousin. “d-your grace.” she greeted the other, offering a bow of her head in respect of the woman. she would normally resort to more informal greetings, but maggie felt she could not be too careful, here. “i hope the journey was well, for you.”


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9 months ago

sheltered was perhaps the best way to describe dacey stark, and that was her own doing. it did not help her now, though, for it was a struggle to recall who it was that she was speaking with in that moment. it took a minute before she recognised him from the coronation of king jaehaerys - the lord paramount of the stormlands, whose sister was mother to two of her cousins.

"catmint," she repeated, sounding somewhere between amused and satisfied by the answer. she took the flower, taking it from the very bottom of the stem in heed of his warning. "i've never seen it before. it must prefer the sun." it took a hardy plant to survive the climates of the north, though she wondered if it might survive under the dome of the glass gardens, where it was warmer.

Sheltered Was Perhaps The Best Way To Describe Dacey Stark, And That Was Her Own Doing. It Did Not Help

"the smell is divine. i will look forward to the tea." the flower was placed in the basket, and she set about collecting more, now that she was assured there was no danger to come from touching them. she was not in the habit of picking unfamiliar blooms, aware of the dangers some possessed if handled without the proper care taken. "i do wonder, do you know how it got it's name?" were cats fond of it, or was it some reference to the lion of lannister that she did not understand?

"i'm sorry, my lord. i forgot to thank you for your assistance." it was not often that dacey forgot her manners, but in that moment, they had quite slipped her mind. "you seem knowledgeable on such matters." she did not think to find common ground with a man of new valyria, but a stormlander was quite different to a man of the crownlands, or so she understood.

whilst the lord paramount was swift in his duties to make nice with the court of lions, as a steadfast ally of his king, he never felt amongst friends in a place such as this. of course, he would also say he did not feel amongst friends in the court of dragons, either. though he had grown up with many of those he walked alongside in the same halls, they had, over time, become something akin to strangers. war bonded them, certainly spilling blood with those around you would do such a thing, but as time passed, and memory's faded, it seemed so did loyalties.

such was life, so he believed. the sun continued to rise and set, and he would continue on as he did every day. morgan wylde was a man of routine, and habits, so his decision to visit the lion's tor on a whim was certainly unlike him, but as he was one who often preferred the solitude of nature and the outdoors, it also wasn't entirely shocking when he said as much to his household.

the ride was not terribly long - morgan had much to ponder on the journey. he was still a bit dazed and surprised by the kindness of the dornish woman on the water's edge, how they could not be more destined to be enemies, and yet she was compassionate instead of resentful, everything he did not imagine for one of dorne.

he exited the carriage, the warm sun upon his face, and gave a quick word to those accompanying him before taking a stroll on his own. the hillside was so green, and ground firm, and drier than he were used to. he imagined his boots should sink slightly upon the earth as they did in the rain house, but the did not. the crunching of the earth was almost foreign to him, and when blue orbs looked down, he realized he stepped in a patch of flowers.

Whilst The Lord Paramount Was Swift In His Duties To Make Nice With The Court Of Lions, As A Steadfast

a woman's voice called to him in that moment, and he glanced over to her. he recognized her, vaguely. he believed her to be of the north, and then the connection was made that she were certainly one of the stark princesses. morgan tried to do well to recall the royals and high nobility of each court. he approached her to observe what she were referring to. a grin spread upon his face as he knelt down to pluck the plant by it's stem, careful not to touch too high - for there were small thorns amongst the lavender petals. "it is called catmint, your grace." he stated, holding it up between them so she may observe it closer. "bees are fond of it, butterflies too, perhaps it would be good in some tea." he held it for her to take, now. "careful of the small spines nearer the middle."


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1 year ago

dacey knew that she should mourn the death of her cousin - but she also knew she had little more grief to give. watching her family dwindle one by one had all but made sure of that. whilst she did not have enough space in her heart to grieve for merindah blackwood, she could offer some comfort to maggie, or at least, try to. she wasn't sure how much of that she could offer, if her cousin felt the same as she did ; that they were united in grief, even if they were not mourning the same loss.

but maggie's voice was tired, in a way dacey could not remember hearing it be before, and the tidings from raventree hall were predictably not ones of joy and cheer. "how old are your youngest brothers, now?" the query was gentle. she knew the boys were both still young, and could not honestly say when the best age to understand death and loss could possibly be. in an ideal world, not until your hair turned grey, but that was not the way of the world they lived in. "what of lucius? and you?" she spoke of her younger brothers, but said little of herself.

Dacey Knew That She Should Mourn The Death Of Her Cousin - But She Also Knew She Had Little More Grief

she swallowed thickly, giving a quick nod of her head. it was easier to manage how she felt about her sisters if she did not think about it, did not talk about it. maggie did not need to know that every moment spent alone, they were the only thing on her mind. that even when she dreamed, it was of her sisters riding through the gates of winterfell, wolves heads instead of their own, the same as jon.

"i almost didn't want to come," she confessed, dropping her voice to a whisper, as though if anybody heard her, she would be cast out. "i still think perhaps i shouldn't have. though i am glad it means i can spend some time with you."

her cousins hand giving hers a reassuring squeeze made maggie feel a sense of compassion she hadn't encountered in some time. she knew the stark's, as well, were dealing with immense losses, not just with the war that ravaged over heir lands, but with the disappearance of two siblings, the former death of another, it surely put perspective onto her own circumstances. regardless, she knew there was not comparing of grief, only enduring. and she hoped that they might be a comfortable presence to one another while they simply endured.

maggie returned the squeeze of the others hand, a ghost of a smile coming upon her lips as she rose to her normal height now. her hands came to clasp in front of her now, and it seemed for a moment there wasn't quite anything to say - where would one start? normally the lady of raventree hall could maintain conversation well, but she felt at a loss of words, and had for some time.

Her Cousins Hand Giving Hers A Reassuring Squeeze Made Maggie Feel A Sense Of Compassion She Hadn't Encountered

a nod, she responded with, wisps of scarlet tresses falling over her face, and a hand rose to push them back as she tried to surmise just had to answer such a thing. "thank you, cousin." she responded, voice weary and tired, a show of her true feelings for the first time she their arrival to the west. "we are all doing as well as expected, i think." which wasn't all that well, in reality. "benadict seems to have immersed himself into the duties of his new position." another blow, but maggie understood it, almost relieved by it, strangely. "hugo and little sam seem to struggle with comprehending it." they were young, and not young. she realized she hadn't had opportunity to really discuss such things with them, but figured their mother had taken that upon herself.

"and i am sorry for you all, as well." maggie swallowed, taking a deep inhale. "my ear is always yours should you need it." there was a small beat of silence as she looked about the hall. "this place does not make dealing with such circumstances much easier, do they?"


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1 year ago

for the first time in far too long, dacey felt a little lighter, a little less like the weight of the world was hanging around her shoulders. for the first time in long time, she was able to simply enjoy herself. perhaps later she would feel guilty for that - but now, she could acknowledge how much she needed that feeling.

his compliment earned a simple bob of her head. she had never been very good at accepting them, even on her very best of days. "the pleasure was mine, lord vance." it was a sincere comment. "should our paths ever cross again, please don't hesitate to say hello."

For The First Time In Far Too Long, Dacey Felt A Little Lighter, A Little Less Like The Weight Of The

It was going well. He did not crush her toes. A series of northern knights were not rushing toward them and as they continued to dance he felt himself relax. the Lord of Wayfarer smiled at the woman before him. A laugh briefly leaving him. "I dare say you are a fine dancer yourself, your highness."

It Was Going Well. He Did Not Crush Her Toes. A Series Of Northern Knights Were Not Rushing Toward Them

As the music came to an end, he smiled, bowing forward as looked at her. "It was an honor dancing with you this evening. I have found that there are wonderful surprises all across this continent. And it's quite nice to find a Princess who is a lovely dance and quite charming as well."

"I sincerely thank you for accepting my offer." After an evening of rejections that ranged from polite to downright cruel giggles, he found himself feelin ga new confidence he was sure would carry him through the rest of this stay in King's Landing.


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6 months ago

cassana's presence filled the space whenever she paid dacey a visit, and for that, dacey was grateful. she brought with her light and warmth, coaxing from dacey a different side to herself, one that was less guarded, less composed. cassana had a way of grounding her, of making her push her own doubts and anxieties to the side for a few short moments, even if only to soothe her sisters. for that was the truth of it. dacey did not much enjoy being a princess of the north, but she very much loved being cassana's older sister.

her lips curved into a smile at cassana's hidden bottle, and if anybody else had produced it, she would have refused a drink. instead, dacey uncorked it, filling both their cups, though she poured more into cassana's than to her own. "if anybody asks, i knew nothing about this," amusement threaded through her words as she set the bottle down, still half-full of northern ale. "though if you ask me, they should be grateful you didn't figure out a way to smuggle out an entire cask. that may have been more difficult to hide under your cloak, though."

her smile turned introspective, a faint flush coming over her cheeks at cassana's compliments. "it's just something to do to pass the time." it was a little more than that, a steady, comfortable rhythm she could fall into when there was little else to offer it, but she enjoyed it all the same.

"you should have it," her voice was a touch firmer now. she had not woven it with cassana in mind, guided more by what inspired her in the moment than a desire to tell a particular story, but the tapestry suited her all the same. woven into it was a small pattern that looked a little like arrows. it seemed right that she would give it to her sister. "and i'll keep the next one. i'd run out of space on the walls if i didn't give some of it away."

Cassana's Presence Filled The Space Whenever She Paid Dacey A Visit, And For That, Dacey Was Grateful.

.

cassana settled into the familiar warmth of dacey’s chambers, the space exuding her sister’s quiet strength and grace. sharing a meal with dacey had become a comforting ritual—a way to connect amidst the chaos of winterfell, to ensure her sister didn’t quietly skip meals as she was prone to do. there were times recently when she had already eaten but took as small second dinner to eat with her sister,not telling her she’d already eaten.she wanted just to be around her.

“you know,” cass began, sliding a bottle onto the table between them with a sly grin.she'd brought along a bottle of ale from their private stores, tucked discreetly beneath her cloak like a conspirator’s prize. “i thought tonight called for something special. straight from the collection the kitchen is so protective of. they won’t notice one missing.” the sparkle in her eye hinted she was daring enough to test that assumption.

her gaze wandered briefly to the tapestry hanging from the loom, its intricate greens and silvers glinting softly in the firelight. she marveled at dacey’s skill, the delicate patterns forming a story only her sister could tell. to create was her sisters gift. “it’s beautiful,” cass said, her voice tinged with admiration. “you put us all to shame with your patience”

at the offer, cassana’s brows lifted in genuine surprise. “for me?” her smile softened, touched by dacey’s generosity. “i’d love to have it, but only if you’re sure. it belongs here, though—with you. this is your work, dace. are you sure?”

.

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2 months ago
Patricia Smith, From Teahouse Of The Almighty; “Building Nicole’s Mama”

Patricia Smith, from Teahouse of the Almighty; “Building Nicole’s Mama”

[Text ID: “and she is an empty vessel waiting to be filled. / And she is waiting. / And she / is / waiting. / And she waits.”]


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8 months ago

dacey's palm was flat against the stone, long, thin fingers red from the cold and where the skin had been picked and peeled around the beds of her nails. the starks were of the old gods; they believed that their nameless deities watched them through the trees, spoke to them through the whisper of the winds and rustle of the leaves and rush of the streams, but in the stones lay the history of man, of the ancestors whose blood persisted in their veins.

these walls had stood for thousands of years, raised by brandon the builder, seen the celebrations when the barrow kings and red kings and marsh kings had fallen to the kings of winter. they had seen the andals beaten back to the south and the wildlings back to the north, had seen the king who knelt and the end of the kings of the north, and had seen them rise once more from the dragon's ashes. they had seen starks born and die and born and die, over and over, and would go on doing so for as long as the sun continued to rise and set.

in between those moments, the ones preserved in the pages of history books, the walls had seen other things, the day to day living that had been lost to time. it was there that dacey's mind turned now, to a girl and a girl and a boy and the three wolves that shadowed them, long enough ago to become memory, not yet long enough to be lost.

"you fell from there, once," her voice was gentle and fond, her breath escaping her lips in small puffs that lingered in the air in a misty cloud. "and you landed on my snowman." it had been one of the first snows of the year. the snow was fresh, soft and powdery, which had been cyrene's good fortune. it had not yet compacted and turned to ice, and so, she had popped out of the pile that had once been dacey's work of art without a scratch.

she withdrew her hand from the wall, brushing it daintily against her furs to rid it of any dirt. "i wasn't going to climb it." it was a reversal from how things had been when cyrene had left for the riverlands, a wild and wilful girl who had balked at nothing, so much so that dacey had wondered if her sister had been born without fear. then, it had been dacey who had called words of caution. that cyrene would be halfway up the wall by now, responding to dacey's warnings with nothing but a laugh.

but things changed. the world changed, and they changed with it. in cyrene, the change was more pronounced than dacey could have ever imagined. but then, the years had not been kind to their kin. distance had not saved cyrene from grief and heartache. dacey did not know how to be with this new sister, who wore the face of the old. not yet.

"there isn't enough snow at the moment. to catch me if i fell."

Dacey's Palm Was Flat Against The Stone, Long, Thin Fingers Red From The Cold And Where The Skin Had

who: @daceystvrk where: at winterfell when cyrene arrives home for the first time in years

There were notches in the outer walls. Always had been, always would be. Cyrene found at least some comfort that things in Winterfell would never change. The people who lived within the walls would. Death haunted the halls, but the years did as well. She'd already seen many who had survived the wars that lay in the past, but they had not come out of it unchanged.

Neither had she.

"Don't climb that," she spoke, voice pragmatic and clipped, "That cannot end well."

Who: @daceystvrk Where: At Winterfell When Cyrene Arrives Home For The First Time In Years

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11 months ago
Nikos Engonopoulos, From Bolívar, A Greek Poem

Nikos Engonopoulos, from Bolívar, a Greek Poem


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1 year ago
July 12th 115 Ac - Dacey Stark Is Born

july 12th 115 ac - dacey stark is born

the fourth child of house stark was born two moons too early and far too small. as a baby, she barely cried, but was prone to illness, particularly of the lungs. it was not expected that she would be long for this world. infants with such weak constitution rarely do, but against the odds dacey grew. she remained a frail child, prone to sickness, and her childhood was mostly spent confined inside winterfell to preserve her health.

129 ac - the dance begins

as she approached adolescence, a question lingered over what to do with dacey stark. while her siblings began to be fostered or trained for their duties as a stark, dacey remained in winterfell, sheltered and protected in order to maintain her health. with the dance of the dragons breaking out during her teenage years, her opportunity to explore the world outside of the north was further stripped from her. she waits out the next ten years in the north, purposely kept as far away from any conflicts as possible.

140 ac - the dance ends

with the leaders of westeros proclaiming independence from the targaryens, dacey finds her position shifting. she is slow to adjust to the change, maintaining her reclusive lifestyle except when absolutely necessary. she does put her complete faith in her family, particularly owen, and trusts and supports his decisions without question. however, at her core she begins to develop idealistic morals of pacificism, which will begin to shape her personal views and how she reacts to things.

post-dance

dacey continues to rarely leave the north, notable exception being to the vale, where she meets and forms a friendship with guinevere lannister. when the kingdoms are gathered in the north, she is more visible than she normally would be, but still seen less often than her siblings and very quiet publicly. she is a soft-hearted person, however, and does offer support to people she recognises to be suffering, including seffora merryweather, and engages in plenty one-on-one conversations whilst fading into the background in group settings. she remains in complete support of the king's decisions.

northern wars

it is during the conflicts in the north that dacey truly develops her distaste for war and violence. however, she is not foolish enough to voice her pacifism out loud, though when asked, she will always answer as honestly as she can: she knows her ideas are idealistic at best, and unrealistic at worst, but she thinks there is a better path than violence, aggression and fighting. despite this, she still believes the king knows best, and does not ever argue with his decisions or contradict him, either publicly or to his face. she remains in winterfell for much of this time.

death of jon stark

the death of a brother marks the beginning of a shift in dacey. still reclusive by nature, she begins to make her presence more known within the north and quietly attempts to aid her brother the king as best she can. she doesn't quite fill the gap left by jon, but she does try and lessen it slightly. the starks meet to discuss retaliation, and dacey advocates for justice over vengeance.

the kidnap of cassana stark, the deaths of rosalyn arryn, and the disappearance of alysanne stark

when further tragedy hits her house in close succession, dacey becomes more present than ever in order to better support her brother and the rest of the family. she takes the initiative to push herself out of her comfort zone and become more involved as best as she knows how whilst handling her own feelings and anxieties privately.

recent events

dacey attends both king jahaerys' coronation in the crownlands, where she largely keeps to herself, stopping at her blackwood cousins' home in the riverlands on her way back to the north, and the celebration of prince arthur's birth in the westerlands.


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1 year ago

truth serum: do you see yourself as a valuable addition or a burden to your house?

it was a question that had kept dacey awake for nights beyond count. "i think i've perhaps always been more of a burden than a help to my family," she admitted. she wished that it were not so, but she was not foolish enough to think otherwise, for what did she have to offer house stark? there was nothing. no talents, no skills, not even the courage of her siblings to offer. "but i am trying very hard not to be."

Truth Serum: Do You See Yourself As A Valuable Addition Or A Burden To Your House?

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