It Was A Rare Thing For Dacey To Speak Without Feeling Like She Had Said Too Much. It Was The By Product

there was no retort from dacey's lips - merely a hum of agreement. she had always remained, two feet on the ground, whilst cyrene and jon scaled winterfell's walls. in many ways, that had not changed. she remained fixed in one spot, watching her siblings climb higher and higher until she could not see them anymore.

and it was always cyrene that she could count on to look down, look back, to wave at her from above and make dacey feel included still, until the day came when cyrene was gone. time and distance stretched between them, even as cyrene, for the first time in many, many years, took dacey's hand.

cyrene's question almost made dacey laugh. it was not a happy laugh, a scoff that she could be anything but well, but one of desperation, because for months now, it had felt like dacey was falling apart at the seams. the northern court had rearranged itself into something she barely recognised, defined by those missing from it, and she had taken it upon herself to try and bridge the chasms they left behind. she was not well.

and yet, her answer was a contradiction to that, to the dark circles under her eyes and red-raw fingers currently gripped in her sister's hand. "i am well," dacey responded, her voice surprisingly firm, full of conviction she did not feel. "you do not need to worry about me, cyrene." and there it was, the reason for the lie - dacey would not burden her family with what was hers to shoulder.

"i'm just tired and cold," she managed a smile then, and she tugged her hand back to tuck beneath her furs, the contact suddenly too much. "i stayed up too late and woke too early. i always do when the frosts start coming in." she paused. cyrene's past few years were spent in the riverlands, far to the south. "are you managing all right with the cold?"

"No snow would be enough to have you escape unscathed," Cyrene responded amused. Dacey had been a sickly child. Only one year older, Cyrene had been right there alongside her to watch her grow and survive. Sickness in the cold so rarely persevered but Dacey - she had been stronger than she gave herself credit for. Cyrene had seen strength in her slight sister and so, together with their brother Jon, she'd pulled her along into whirlwind adventures, despite Dacey's protests that called to caution.

Once upon a time, Cyrene had been a restless being, always moving, always running. Standing still had never been an option. Had it been with Jon or Dacey or Owen or Brandon - her heart and blood had been the same colour as her hair.

Her younger self would've been ashamed of her now. Stagnant and steadfast. She was ruthless now, mercilessly fighting for her children and her close ones, yes, but she no longer dared consequence to catch up to her. There was too much at stake now.

Cyrene stepped closer, suddenly and quickly, reaching out to grab her sister's cold hands. Tightly, though she made sure that the rings on her fingers, plentiful and equally as cold, did not bite into Dacey's skin.

"Sister," she spoke, voice dropping to a whisper. Reverent and urgent. "Are you well?" Are you safe? It went without saying. Dacey, as well as all her other siblings had denied her request to seek safety with her in the Riverlands. For a little while, there had been peace in the North. This time, when tensions were rising, Cyrene would not stay away.

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.

dacey nodded. her social circle had been small at school, and ryon wyl had not been part of it. she knew little of him to know if it had been a sporting and spirited action, or if hugo was being polite, as he often was. "either way, you look fine without it," she assured him, with a slight nod of her head.

"thank you. i'm a little embarrassed to say this was all panic-bought at the airport." she had forgotten all about it until they had gone through security, and scraped together what she could. she let out a laugh. "somehow, i'd completely forgotten about ugg boots. i'm not sure what we were thinking with those." she'd definitely had a pair or two of her own in her youth.

a gasp left her, and she shook her head. "oh hugo, congratulations. i'd have sent a gift if i had known." mentally, she added it to her to do list for when she arrived back home. "i'd love to meet her. how long have you two been together, now?" it might seem strange, being on such friendly terms with an ex-boyfriend, but dacey was nothing but happy for him in that moment. "i'm well. my partner and i are living together now, and i finished my residency this year, so i suppose i'm a proper doctor now."

"Oh no, it's fine, Mr. Wyl is sporting and spirited if anything." Hugo spoke with that same smile he always wore. Some would say he spent a lot of time in his political form and while that could arguably be true, he was also the kind of man who knew it was better to start with a smile. His mother always told him that people remember a man with a warm and welcoming smile.

Hugo spoke to the bartender and then put his attention back on her. "You look inspired if I say so myself. Personally, I find myself disappointed there's not a single Ugg boat in the crowd." Hugo laughed at his own joke as he finished his drink, glad for the new one coming his way.

"I'm quite well. I don't know if you've heard but I've been elected MP of Greenwich. Quite an accomplishment, well on my way I'd say. I would introduce you to Ellie Swann, she's somewhere. Perhaps speaking to her brother." He turned back to her. "Tell me how you are."

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.

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.

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?"

dacey somehow completely lost track of what the camera was doing. she knew she was laughing in the second picture, and thought they might have been kissing by the fourth, but it was truly anyone's guess. she barely even registered that their little photoshoot was finished, not until she pulled away from the kiss and realised the screen had once again darkened. "those ones were better, i think." she took a moment to straighten her hair, make sure her lipstick was still in place, and reached out to wipe a tiny smudge of it from the corner of his own mouth before standing, holding her hand out for him to take so she could help him stand, too.

stepping out of the booth, dacey saw the second round of pictures had already been printed, picking up the strip and taking them in with a smile before offering it to ulises to look at. "see? much better. we just needed to practice."

her gaze swept around the fair, noting familiar faces, and those that were less familiar. "did we really go to school with this many people?" she mused out loud. "it didn't seem like so many at the time. though i suppose some of the people here are just guests, aren't they?"

Flying all the way from Norway to come here had given him a bit of a let lag too in the past couple of days, though he'd slept well enough the previous night to not feel that weariness right now. In any case, that excuse could give them an out to leave anytime they wanted. He rubbed the small of Dacey's back tenderly. With that touch and just a glance, he could communicate that they were okay to leave whenever she wished. But who knew, perhaps his own social battery would end before hers.

“I'm sure. Come on,” he said with a nod, confirming he really was eager to take some more pictures with his girlfriend. With their first set of pictures safely tucked inside Dacey's wallet, they were back in for another round of photos inside the booth. Ulises wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer. He felt Dacey's kiss on his cheek, which immediately made him grin for the first picture. Ulises allowed himself to be a little sillier and have fun with her, winking at the camera for the second picture. He turned to look at her for the third one, just pausing there. Ulises looked at her with so much warmth and adoration in his eyes, but that look wasn't for the camera, it was just for Dacey. His free hand moved up, slipping to the back of her neck and he leaned in to kiss her. He had no clue at what point the fourth picture was taken.

there was once a time when dacey stark would have been the first in line to greet a guest of winterfell. sometimes, she could walk in the shoes of that girl still, the one she used to be, could wear her face, think her thoughts, laugh like she used to. it never quite felt the same as it used to, more hollow, less sincere. there was a constant gnawing in her chest that never quite went away, but some days it was louder than others. more days then most, lately. today, however, it screamed, demanding attention. when it clawed at her insides like this, there was no façade she could put up that would hold. and so, when her brother's men came, dacey made herself scarce. she had little taste for tales of war, anyway.

the only thing that had her resolve wavering was adam himself. the last thing she wanted was for him to think her absence was some sort of personal slight. she was saved from trying to put on a brave face, though, when he himself appeared, as though summoned by her thoughts. she did not smile, though the look she gave him upon his approach was full of warmth. her slender fingers, cool to the touch, wound their way around his, and she squeezed his hand gently. she'd gotten far more accustomed to silence then she'd like to be, but there was something comforting about sharing moments of quiet with somebody you cared for. dacey held on to the quiet between them, nurturing it for an all-too-brief moment, before shattering it when she finally spoke.

"i hear a congratulations are in order," as much as she didn't want him to regale her with tales of battle, she could not let his victory slip by without comment. "i am - very glad to see that you are safe." the words carry an undercurrent of the feelings dacey has yet to speak out loud. thus far, her grief for jon has been a silent, shameful and private thing, kept clutched close to her chest like a child trying to hide something they know they should not have. grieving a brother is a burden she can just about bear. the relief that she does not have to grieve another is enough to relieve even just a portion of that weight. "welcome home."

Closed starter for @daceystvrk Setting: Following the latest battle of the berserker force against Umber followers, Prince Adam Stark and some of his men return to Winterfell victorious once more, set only to replenish supplies. Their stay is meant to be brief before they return to the field of battle.

The Commander of the Kingsguard was back to his family home only for a few days. Before, the lone wolf of House Stark would have focused on duty and duty alone, a soldier's mindset steadily guiding his every action. Now, however, the prince made sure to make good use of his time in Winterfell to be with his wife, to see his brothers and sisters, be with them before he had to march north again and keep writing by the edge of his sword the strong retaliation against the betrayers of the land.

He found Dacey in one of the sitting rooms of the keep. She was there, silent, solitary. All of the Stark siblings mourned for Jon in their own ways, grasping at whatever they could to cope with the grief. He'd held on to rage and the need for retribution; all of the siblings were directing their pain into some sort of action. And his little sister was there alone. Without a word, he walked over to take a seat by her side. He'd been away for some time, and he couldn't help but wonder if Dacey had been grieving alone all this time. Adam reached for his sister's hand, a knowing look in his eyes.

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

Stephanie Garber, Once Upon a Broken Heart

westerlands attire

dacey dresses with the exact opposite intention of standing out or making a statement. her clothing is chosen to help her blend in, not make a scene, and not be noticed. just nice enough that people aren't going to say she looks bad, but not remarkable enough to comment on.

she favours darker colours, but never black. greys, deep blues, burgundy and forest greens are common colours in her attire.

THE HOLIDAY (2006) dir. Nancy Meyers