I Miss Old Dacey Every Day Sob - Blog Posts
anya spoke of pride, of the strength of standing alone. dacey was no stranger to self-imposed isolation, in shouldering her worries alone, but that was where the similarity stopped. her own reasons were quieter, less fierce. she bore things alone not because she believed it made her stronger, but because she feared the weight of her burdens on those she might share them with. there was no sense of northern honour, no streak of independence that she might take comfort in. it was simply easier to swallow the heaviness in silence rather than risk becoming another stone around someone else's neck. were anya chose to hold it like a shield of defiance, dacey's solitude was a habit she had worn for so long it was second nature.
and still now, dacey did not share what was on her mind, instead choosing to continue to speak of anya with a soft smile on her face. "i've often found that to be the case. people can be cruel, i won't deny that, but your own mind is often crueller." others could light the flame, but it was insecurity that often fanned it to an inferno. away from the comforts of home, those feelings were amplied tenfold. "we forget that we see every flaw in ourselves too easily. we can't ignore the cracks that exist within us, and so we expect others to see them just as clearly." her gaze softened when she looked at anya, understanding the weight of admitting such thoughts aloud. "the north was never supposed to be endured alone, i think. we have always been strongest when we stand together. my company is yours to take whenever you have need of it."
and yet as she spoke of unity, it did not escape dacey's thoughts that the north was a court that was growing more and more divided. it felt like she was standing on a frozen river, watching hairline fractures appear in the ice beneath her feet but powerless to move before they cracked below her. the true north cast a growing shadow, but it was another discomfort she held close to her chest, not daring to voice aloud. especially not here, where the image of seeming steadfast mattered so much more.
"embarrass us?" a small frown appeared on dacey's face, and she shook her head. "oh, no, no. i don't think that has been on... well, anybody's mind." but as she thought about the other women, the way it seemed to come so naturally to them what even dacey wore uncomfortably, she could not deny that she couldn't see the root of anya's worries. "the king, my family, we all know who you are, anya. if we had fear of that, i am sure owen would have had no qualms about asking you to remain at winterfell." her teeth came down to chew at her lip, considering what she was about to say next. "but i understand it. the fear of it, i mean. if there is anything i can do to help you, i will." she had never been one to allow someone to face the world alone. she would not start now.
Anya listened intently, letting Dacey's words settle over her. They carried a quiet wisdom that reminded her of why she admired the Stark princess so. Though the paths they walked were different, there was a shared understanding between them, a recognition of the burdens that came with forging their places in the world. Dacey’s observation struck a chord. People never really see you how you see yourself. It was a truth Anya had long grappled with, given her origins, given how she had grown up. The raven-haired woman thought that sometimes she saw more worth in herself than others did, and sometimes it was the other way around. It was a strange sort of cycle in which she moved.
“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed with a nod, a faint smile touching her lips. “Perhaps it’s for the best, in some ways. We can be harder on ourselves than anyone else could ever be”. Perhaps the worst kind of thoughts about her, were the ones she'd conjured herself. Anya’s dark eyes searched Dacey’s face, noticing the princess’s quiet strength, the subtle resilience in her words. And then there was an offer in the princess' words, something that felt like she was extending friendship. “For so long I thought there was pride, there was strength, in standing alone,” Anya admitted. “But I don't always want to be strong... I don't always wish to stand alone”. It felt like both immense weakness and great strength to confess such a thing. “I’m grateful for your company, for your understanding. It’s… rarer than I’d like to admit”.
The judgment could come from the West or from any other place, Anya knew. The princess was right once more, in saying that there could always be something to judge. The Yuan lady knew it was impossible to bend and shape herself in every way that would please others. She'd not done it a day in her life, and it was maddening that as a lady, she was no considering such outside opinions. She shrugged then, the gesture half-defiant, half-resigned. “Well, let them think what they will, I suppose,” she murmured.
“I do still have to learn how to be a better lady, though,” she added with a little chuckle despite herself. “I would hate to embarrass the king and your family because I've not been raised like others have”. Anya's tone was less doubtful, however, more light-hearted in the knowledge that there was still more for her to learn, and having the humility to admit it.
