✧ Interaction ╱ Brandon Karstark - Blog Posts

the air in highgarden was thick with the perfume of roses - climbing roses, garden roses, blossoms in soft pastels, vivid reds and the cleanest whites that spilled over trellises and peeked from stone urns. the smell wasn't bad, exactly, but cloying, amplified by the summer heat. dacey had always loved her winter roses, their scent refreshing in the crisp winds of the north, subtle and sweet. nothing like the flowers here, that seemed to be in competition with each other over who had the loveliest of fragrances, boastful blooms that left her with the beginnings of a headache forming at her temples.

but that was highgarden, wasn't it? silks and open balconies of warm stone that never cooled, all teeming with the presence of things that grew. all bright, all green, even the floor beneath her feet polished smooth with dancing feet rather than carved by frost and pressure and time. it was evident even in the way the people of the reach conducted themself, and dacey could not find her footing in it. and so, she withdrew, present in body only as she sat, a pale shape at the edge of the northern retinue, missing the cold and the weight of furs around her shoulders.

the seat to her left had only just emptied when another slipped into it. she glanced up, more to know who she had found herself beside than to attempt conversation, then stilled at the sight of brandon karstark. she had not thought to see him here - none had. since the last time they had spoken, his name had been uttered only to notice his absence, and there had been little indication that he had planned to join them here, cutting through the scent of roses with the smell of rain and road that she found she far preferred. he looked worn, the look of a man who had kept riding after he should have stopped, and the sight of him produced a strange sort of feeling in her chest she couldn't fully describe. it wasn't quite surprise, and it wasn't dread, but a sort of relief that wound around her ribcage and worry that coiled just underneath it.

he didn't look at her, but she was looking at him, making a concentrated effort to ensure her hands remained still in her lap and that she wasn't staring, an endeavour she expected she was failing. there was an odd sense of anticipation, like watching a tourney knight fall from his horse and holding your breath to see if he would sit up again. but then he spoke, with just enough humour that she let out a small breath that could have been a laugh. "don't judge me too terribly," she said, in a voice that was only just louder than a whisper, something said for his ears alone. "but i have never been able to tell one frey from the other. i do not even know which one cyrene is married to." it was said in humour, but her words still drew a pang of guilt. how distant a sister had she been, that she did not know her goodbrother?

any reassurance she had taken from talk of the freys was quickly dismissed again when he turned, and looked at her, and spoke more. the small smile that had begun to twist at her lips faded, brows creasing as she listened. it brought to mind the last time they had spoken with one another, when she had stopped him from falling in the northern snows. it would have been easy to try and offer reassurance that sometimes a dream was just a dream, but the months since alysanne had disappeared had left her wary. if it was enough to bring him to a place he hadn't wanted to be, she would not dismiss it as a figment of an overactive mind.

at no point did her gaze leave him, not judging, not appraising, simply looking. there was a heaviness to him that sat bone-deep, like a man who had not had a full night's sleep in years, and still she found herself strangely grateful for the sight of him ; she had thought of him, not too often, but on nights where sleep eluded dacey herself, and she had felt the concern that she supposed was normal given what she knew, but she hadn't realised until now how much not knowing had unsettled her.

she didn't know what to make of it, of the fact he were here chasing dreams, except that it left her uneasy in a way she could not put her finger on. "it's no wonder you look tired," was all she said in response, not unkind, but gentle. "but i am glad you did come." he didn't say alysanne's name, and neither did she, but her thoughts drifted there now. time was beginning to dull grief and anger, and when she thought of her sister now, her face was blurred at the edges, like her mind was beginning to lose its grip on her. for the first time since she had taken her seat, she reached for her wine and sipped it, even though she didn't like the taste. it felt like something to do. her fingers shook a little against the cup, and she let them, because he was the only one watching.

"i don't know much about dreams and omens," she said, almost apologetic as she set her cup aside. "but..." but what? anything she might have said didn't feel right, inadequate in her voice. he did not need her to tell him that what he described was worrisome. "but it's a long way to ride for ben blackwood." it wasn't about ben. he had said as much, even if she was reluctant to pick at the truth of why he was here.

who: @daceystvrk when and where: the verdant concord, an unexpected northern visitor makes an appearance within the halls of highgarden - the first one in months since he retired to karhold and ignored the summons of king owen stark.

he slid into the great hall of highgarden with all the ease of a towering man stepping into a room he weren’t sure he had a right to be in - not since ignoring the royal summons of his king. didn’t matter that his blood was old as the roots of the trees carved into the southern pillars, nor that he bore the name of karhold and the quiet menace of its winters. down here, everything smelled of roses and soft summer—he smelled of damp wool and northern road, and looked like he’d rode through the night, which he had. cloak sodden at the hem, hair flattened on one side, beard uncombed and flecked with trail dust.

even now, as gold light poured through the high arched windows and laughter echoed off marble floors, there was a weight to him. something heavy in his shoulders, something slow behind his eyes.

he said nothing when he entered. not a word. just strode in, boots clicking on stone too fine for northern feet, and made for the gathered seats near the centre of the hall, where the northern retinue had gathered beside the southerners, all warmth and courtesy and talk of trade and wine. the southern lords looked up as he passed—some with curiosity, others with that reach sort of politeness that always felt like it might curdle into mockery if left too long in the sun. his brother had only just left his seat—off chasing wine or women, likely—and brandon took the space without hesitation. cloak fell behind him like a shadow, the weight of it sodden with rain that hadn’t dried in the warmth. he leaned forward, took up the half-empty cup his brother had left behind, and drank without blinking.

none had seen him in months.

the chair beside him belonged to princess dacey stark. he didn’t look at her straight away. just stared into the firelight blazing across the far wall, thinking about how far he was from the frost. it all smelled too green here. "princesss." wet grass and honeysuckle. made his chest feel tight. then he spoke, his voice low, and lined with gravel. “worked out which one’s lordin’ over the rest o’ them freys yet?” he asked, not turning, but his mouth twitched at the corner. “they change faster than the wind, them lot. last i saw, one of ‘em was carryin’ on like he were heir to bloody casterly rock.” he paused, sipped again. this shit was too fruity.

he turned to glance at her now, proper. dacey stark. she looked more tired than the last time, and stronger for it too. he weren’t sure what that said about the time between. he hadn’t seen her since spring turned to summer and the snows back home started to melt, but never quite enough.

and yet still, he didn’t speak of her sister - despite the fact it was not rare for the voic of alysanne stark to visit him in his sleep. didn’t speak of the fire in the woods that night, or how the world had bent sideways when the wind screamed through the trees. didn’t speak of the way he still sometimes woke with his heart pounding and her name half-choked in his throat. alysanne. if she’d gone through that door, he weren’t sure she could be brought back.

but that wasn’t what he came south for. or at least, that wasn’t what he’d told himself. “weren’t plannin’ to come,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “but the dreams’ve been wrong. sea where there shouldn’t be, blood in the snow. i saw our benny blackwood in one of ‘em, so i thought i’d ride down and see if he’s still the arse he always was.” he paused, then added, without looking at her, “maybe it weren’t about ben, though.” he let the words hang there, like something that might mean more if she wanted it to. then he drank again, and leaned back in the chair like he might disappear into it.

he didn’t smile, but the firelight caught the faintest twitch in his jaw. something like a man remembering what it felt like to want something. or someone. and there, for some reason as he looked at her face, he made the silent solemn decision he would return to the place where it all started. retreat his steps. he owed her that. he owed them all that.

she'd always felt solace in the godswood, as though it were the only place in the world where silences did not demand to be filled. and yet, tonight, the quiet moments were charged with something she could not name and could not place, and when brandon spoke, she was grateful to him for not letting the hush linger, even if the tone of his voice and the words he chose caught her off guard.

her arms folded loosely across her chest, her eyes fixed on the carved face of the heart tree, as though its mouth might move, and it might provide her the words she struggled with to respond. "there are some things that are impossible to put down." she murmured. alysanne was one of those things. since brandon had offered her the truth, her feelings surrounding her oldest sister had been complex. the grief was there, but there was anger too, and blame, wrapped up in a neat bow of guilt for feeling such things in the first place. that, though, was too much to put into words, but there was a way in which brandon karstark seemed to look at her, and understand the very shape of her thoughts, that had her wondering if she needed to.

and she so rarely let herself be unguarded with anybody. within winterfell, she was the one who hid things, who shielded others from that which would do them harm, who at times would shy away from revealing her very being, but the more he spoke, the clearer it was that there was little use in hiding anything from him. whatever she tried to keep away from his eyes, he already knew.

"you've a way with words, brandon." her cheeks were flushed with more than the cold, because for a woman who bled kindness so freely, so willingly, having it directed back at her, to hear the things that she had always thought made her weak rephrased as her strength, was something she did not know how to contend with. but hearing it from him, she could almost believe it, even for a moment.

there was a gentleness to his gaze that had not been there before, or if it had, she hadn't noticed it. it was enough to make her breath catch briefly, coming from her in an audible stutter on the winds. "the same goes for you." she spoke with a solemnity, a sincerity that could not be doubted. a quiet confirmation that there was at least one in winterfell who recognised what it was that he had to carry forward with him, and would help lift up that which was too heavy to raise alone. "thank you, lord karstark. your loyalty... that means more than i can say."

and she understood that too much had changed, that brandon would not and could not be the ever-present figure he had been before, but that did not mean that there was not regret in parting. it twisted at her, forcing her to look away, towards the skies where the snow swirled, almost peacefully. "i will. i'll write." whether she would or not remained to be seen. "stay safe. on the roads, in karhold."

and as dacey made to leave, something stopped her, rooting her to the snow-covered ground, because there was still something left unsaid. "you are right," she glanced back over her shoulder, at brandon, standing by the heart's tree. "the north does not lose its own for long." she was speaking not of alysanne, but of him.

♞

the quiet of the godswood wrapped around them like an old cloak, the weirwood’s red leaves trembling gently in the wind. the snow lay thick beneath their boots, the air cold enough to sting the skin, but brandon karstark felt none of it. his gaze was on princess dacey stark, her face solemn as she stood before the heart tree. the faint candlelight of winterfell barely reached this corner of the world, leaving the grove to its shadows and whispers.

he’d seen her unyielding and dedicated —but tonight, there was something softer about her, something vulnerable. it pulled at something deep in his chest.

he broke the silence first, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot. “dacey,” he began, her name heavy on his tongue, “ye’ve carried this weight long enough. too long, if i’m to speak plain.” his northern drawl softened the sharpness of his words, but not their intent. “ye’ve got the look o’ someone fightin’ battles in her own head. alysanne’s gone, aye, but it weren’t your doin’. whatever ghosts haunt ye about it, they’re lyin’ through their teeth.”

he stepped closer, his furs rustling with the movement. the godswood always felt like a place for truths, and he wouldn’t hold back here. not with her. “i know ye think the north depends on ye—the whole of it, like the weight of winter itself rests on yer shoulders. but ye’ve got to know this: the north’s strong ‘cause o’ folk like ye. not ‘cause ye bear it alone, but because ye’ve got the heart to care when most’d shut theirs away.” he sighed, his breath visible in the cold air.

“it’s not just her ye’re mournin’, is it? it’s all of it—the feelin’ o’ losin’ control, losin’ kin. but we’ll find her. aye, we will. the north doesn’t lose its own for long. someone’ll speak, or some sign’ll show itself. the gods don’t let things like this stay hidden forever.”

brandon let his gaze drift to the heart tree for a moment, the carved face watchin’ them with its eternal solemnity. he turned back to her, his expression softer now, though the steel in his voice remained. “ye’re stronger than ye give yerself credit for, dacey. always have been. but if the weight’s too much, lean on those who care for ye. lean on me, if ye need. i’ll not see ye break under it. not you.” he paused, uncertain for a moment. then, more quietly, almost as an afterthought, he added, “ye’ve always had me respect, princess. even when i did not know of yer ways. but now... ye’ve got me loyalty too. not just as lord karstark. as a man who sees the good in ye, even when ye can’t see it yerself.”

he paused slightly, briefly distracted by the way in which the snow seemed to swirl before them. he waved his hand toward it, as if he would leave some lingering spirit on his hand. "i'll be returning back to karhold soon enough, though know if ya need anythin' from me you can send a raven." it felt like a goodbye of sorts; he had accepted that aleksander would be the present karstark within the court of the north. he knew not when he would see dacey stark again.

dacey's gaze lingered on brandon, as though she were afraid if she looked away, he might fall into the snow once more. his self-deprecating humour might have worked to ease her worries in any other moment, but not then - not when she had seen the way he had swayed so precariously, not when she could still hear the strain in his voice as he tried to brush off what had just happened. it was as though she were looking at him through fresh eyes. she had not been blind to the fact he had been touched by grief and stress, but it was only now she noted just how heavy that burden seemed to be for him.

"it is care freely given," her voice remained as quiet as it had been, but with a resoluteness that was not common in dacey. she did not know if her persistence would be accepted, or if he would bristle at it. it was no small thing for a man who was the very picture of strength and stability to be caught in a moment of weakness. "even the strongest of trees can be toppled by a storm."

he seemed to be returning to himself, and that was a relief, and yet, she still moved to crouch slightly before him, until her gaze was level with his. she did not need to bend far. even seated, the height of him was obvious. "you're far from an old nan. there's life in you yet, lord karstark." the faintest semblance of a smile crossed her face, something that was both reassuring and that brushed away any lingering traces of her concern.

it was not the true north, but the mention of alysanne that had her finally pulling her gaze from him, eyes turning downward to look at the snow on the ground. it was rare to hear her name anymore, as though their lives had knitted over the space she had left, but she could still see where the threads didn't quite fit with the rest of the tapestry. she felt it - her absence, and what brandon had told her that she had done, even if she had still spoken it to nobody else.

"it's too much for any to carry alone. just one of those things would be enough." she hesitated, before perching on the spare space on the mounting block beside him. "if you do feel yourself faltering again, though, try and warn me first? i'm not sure my reflexes will be quick enough a second time. the first was pure luck." there was enough levity to her voice to make it sound like a joke, but under it all, she had no desire to see brandon karstark fall.

♞

brandon karstark felt the world tilt beneath him, a momentary dizziness that threatened to sweep his legs out from under him like the harsh winds of the wolfswood. his large, rough hand gripped the rough stone of the wall as though it might anchor him against the sudden betrayal of his body. the cold bit at his fingers through his gloves, but the sharp sting was grounding. he wasn’t sure what had come over him—a rush of blood, the cold, or the weight of all the whispers they’d spoken of. he’d been a fortress his whole life, and now, his knees trembled like a green boy’s after his first fight.

trembled the way they had the night his knees submitted to the snow, and he watched as the skies danced green above him.

then he felt her hand—small compared to his, steady and firm despite its lightness. dacey stark had moved to his side, her touch grounding him in a way his pride refused to acknowledge. her other hand hovered close, ready to catch him should he falter further. he cast her a sidelong glance, his lips opening into a faint, self-deprecating sigh. “princess, ye shouldn’t be wasting your care on me,” he rumbled, knowing that there would be nothing he could do to stop her. regardless of how brash he may have sounded, not in this moment. the warmth of her concern made him pause; for the briefest of moments.

“you’ve a steady hand, princess,” he murmured, his gruff voice softening just a touch. “might’ve toppled like a blasted pine without you.”

“bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rasping, an edge of frustration creeping into his tone. he swayed again, and his hand pressed harder against the wall, fingers curling against the icy stone for purchase. there was a nervous, dismissive chuckle that came from his lips, as though he were trying to move passed what had just occurred. “damned frailed body, i’ve stood through worse and now i'm out 'ere shakin' like an old nan in robes.”

his hand remained braced on his knee, the other gripping the edge of the block as though he still didn’t trust himself to stay upright. he chuckled then, a rough, bark-like laugh that seemed more to dismiss his embarrassment than to find true humor. “what a sight, eh? a karstark felled by nothin’ more than a spin of the head. gods be good.” still, the worry in her eyes lingered, and something about her steady presence made him relent. "maybe it’s all this talk of the true north," he admitted, his voice heavy. "or alysanne. what she was dabblin’ in… it’s the kind o’ thing that turns men’s stomachs and sets their thoughts adrift."

dacey exhaled, the breath coming from her in a visible puff as it met the cold air. it was a heavy burden brandon carried now, and she felt the weight of it on her own shoulders. she looked at him for a second too long before speaking, but it was not suspicion that clouded her gaze, merely contemplation. perhaps with all that had transpired, the cracks in the ice of the northern court, it was a foolish thing to trust him, but she did. when she looked at him, she saw only honesty in his face.

"i don't envy the position you find yourself in." owen was her brother, but she would offer him no lies. it would do no good - because despite everything, brandon still knew owen far better than she. dacey loved her brother, and there was little he could ask of her that she would not do, and yet, she could not pretend that she had the measure of him as a man. "if i thought my words held any weight with my brother, i would offer to speak for you. but..." she trailed off, allowing the unspoken to fill the silence. but, it would be best coming from brandon.

and it was strange, how he seemed to want to give her reassurance, when that was the exact thing she was struggling to find to offer him. "oh, it's..." she began her protest, her assurances that she believed that the blame for this did not lie at his feet, but the words died in her throat. brandon faltered before her, suddenly unsteady on his feet, and her reaction was instinctual, moving closer and raising her hands as though he did not tower over her, as if she could bear the weight of him if her fell.

in the end, she did not need to. he caught himself on the wall, pressed his hand to the side of his head, and still, dacey stood there, arms half-raised, hesitating as she studied him. "brandon," her voice was soft, a whisper on the wind as she looked him over, and saw etched in his features something that she could not name. her heart was hammering in her chest, and though she knew the gesture may not be welcomed, she could not fight the urge to reach out, to provide something solid and steady should he stumble again. the vision she had always held of brandon karstark was of a man who seemed so unwavering ; to witness him like this was unsettling.

dacey lowered one arm, but the other stretched out, bridging the small gap between them and coming to rest upon his arm. the fabric of his cloak was rough beneath her palm, but warm, her touch light, but firm, as though her own gentleness could somehow lend him strength. she did not know if she was overstepping, if this was too familiar, but in that moment, it was the last thing on her mind, her thoughts full of little else but her concern. "are you all right? do you need..." she glanced around, looking for somewhere to bid him to sit, before settling on a stone mounting block a few meters away.

"over here," her fingers curled around his sleeve, and she tentatively led him to the mounting block, brushing the snow from it with her free hand before gesturing for him to sit. it was only then did she let go of his arm, though her gaze did not move from his face, scanning for any sign of weakness or pain, or what exactly had come over it. perhaps it was the stress of it all. perhaps he was just tired.

"you're all right," her voice was low, a steady mantra of reassurance. "you'll be all right." she should step back, give him space to breathe, but a part of her remained afraid that if she did, he would keel over sideways. at least it was happening here, with the snow to break his fall and no eyes but her own and the gods, rather than in the overheated hall surrounded by northmen, though that was a small mercy in the grand scheme of things.

♞

the cold air outside the hall bit at brandon karstark’s cheeks, but he barely noticed it. winterfell’s great halls had been stifling, crowded with people and their endless voices. out here, beneath the wide expanse of a pale sky, he could think clearer. speak clearer. though dacey stark’s presence made his words heavier than he liked. she had a way of looking at a man like she could see the cracks in him, even if she didn’t mean to.

she stood before him now, bundled in furs, her cheeks flushed—partly from the cold, partly from the unspoken weight of their conversation. she was anxious, that much was clear. he could see it in the way her hands twisted at the edge of her cloak, the way she glanced at him like she wasn’t sure whether to trust his words or doubt them.

brandon exhaled, his breath a plume of mist. he’d been taller than most his whole life, but now, with his beard grown thick and wild, and the weight of years etched into his features, he felt like a shadow looming over her. he shifted, trying to soften his stance, though his voice remained gruff. “aye, i want to speak wi’ him,” he said, his words slow, careful. his karhold accent roughened each syllable. “but it ain’t about what i want, is it? i’ve got no choice but t’ clear me name and karhold’s name. them rumours o’ the true north are spillin’ too close me and my kin. if yer brother thinks i’m stirrin’ rebellion... well, that’s a noose i won’t wear.”

he glanced down at her, noting the worry in her eyes. it wasn’t just for him—there was a weight there, tied to her brother. to owen. “but yer right,” he admitted, his voice softening just a shade. “i don’t know how he’ll take it. things’ve been… strained.” he rubbed a hand over his beard, the motion slow, thoughtful. brandon had made his choice in refusing to attend the ceremony in which nasir manderly had taken up the position of hand; for the principle of it all. he too had not listened to the true wants of the north folk, and instead had been a champion.

perhaps even an instigator. it don't matter, not when the walls of white harbour remain high and they continue to become all the richer.

“but it’s a talk that needs havin’. and better it comes from me mouth than through whispers or knives in the dark, aye?” he watched her shift on her feet, unsure. she was trying to decide if she agreed, trying to decide if she even wanted to agree.

“listen, princess,” he said, his tone warmer now, though no less rough. “i ain’t leadin’ no rebellions. i don’t want yer brother’s crown, nor his throne. but what i do want is t’ make sure my folk don’t pay the price fer things i’ve no hand in.” he looked away then, out toward the snow-covered trees beyond the walls of winterfell. “yer kin matters t’ me. not just karstarks, but starks too. that’s why i’ll talk t’ him, no matter how he feels about it. he needs t’ hear it, and i'll leave it for da gods to decide..”

when he glanced back at her, his eyes softened just enough to ease the sharp edges of his words. “ye’ve got nothin’ t’ worry about, dacey. this ain’t somethin’ i’d leave unsettled. not when yer've been dealin wit....” there was a slight blur in his vision, and it showed in the fact his dark grey orbs seemed to flicker for a moment, becoming unfocused; he found himself reaching out against the stone wall, as though he needed to steady himself before losing his footing beneath him. it had come in a sudden wave, and his hand moved to his temple.

a temporary hush fell between them. usually when such silences fell, it kicked dacey's mind into overdrive, always assuming the worst of herself, always trying to figure out where she had gone wrong. but there was reassurance in his voice, and her cheeks turned half a shade more flushed when it hit her that she had missed the point, completely overlooked that this was simply banter between brothers, even if one of the brothers were not there to hear it. it still did not feel like her place to poke fun at aleksander behind his back, but neither did she need to explain and overexplain it, neither. she breathed out, and nodded her head once more. "thank you."

it was a common pattern for dacey. for a brief moment, her defences would lower enough for her to speak without thinking, until her mind caught up with her and forced her to re-examine what she had said. and then she would doubt herself. she spun, but continued to try and maintain eye contact with him, glancing back over her shoulder with her neck twisted at an awkward angle until the only option was to turn her head the other way. for a brief second, confusion flitted over her face, for when he announced his intention to speak with the hand, her mind still went to him first, not nasir manderly. "i am sure that will put many minds at ease."

he mentioned speaking to the king, and it would not be hard for him to notice how dacey tensed at the idea. was that a good idea? she opened her mouth, then closed it again. unless you think it best. was that a rhetorical question, or was he truly asking her opinion? she wanted to reassure him that owen would want to speak with him, and a part of her believed that to be true, but though he was her brother, she would not deny the truth - brandon knew him best. even now, he knew him better than dacey did.

"i don't know," she admitted, softly. there was worry, the sort of worry she always felt when she thought about owen these days. "i'd like to be able to tell you that i think he would prefer to hear it from you himself, but i truly don't know, brandon. do you want to speak with him?"

♞

the quickness to which the princess of the north, those the songs often dubbed as the rose of snow within the lands of karhold, took to attempting to defend aleksander karstark made brandon go momentarily quiet - though not for reasons one may have assumed. not because he felt as though she were interceding on something that was not hers to deal with, nor because he found the closeness she shared with aleksander to be questionable or inappropriate: but rather because it felt as though she had missed the part where it were clear the brothers of karhold were joking.

"i know, yer highness." his words were quiet but reassuring under the sound of the music as they continued to dance, his hand still resting respectfully on her hip as they spun around; he was careful not to barge her into any other couple on the dance floor. she were over explaining herself, in a way that would no doubt show far more of her state of mind than his own. "he'll not hear a word from me about it." a part of him wondered if this was the consequence of a clear change in sibling dynamics, what happens when the oldest brother is no longer that, but a king too.

for some reason the sight of the smallest of heads nods, the acknowledgement of his word, seemed to cause him a sense of relief - that there was at least one of the royals that understood the movement had not been encouraged by him, nor those who spoke it. none would find brandon karstark within their halls, igniting their whispers and their flames; not so soon after the weapons had been laid to rest. "i intend on speaking with the hand of the king himself on it. enough has befallen us all, i will not speak in riddles or wait in the shadows." he spun her around, watching as she turned.

whether brandon thought it was his truth, was something else entirely. he agreed with the sentiment. he agreed with what was being said. only, he did not agree with the timing; nor did he agree with the method in which such rumour was being spread. "unless you think it best for me to speak to the king himself." the king, instead of owen; there was so much change in wording, words that still felt foreign upon his lips. he watched as thought crossed over her features; no doubt, a sense of kindness remained upon her face.

the sound of brandon karstark laughing was not an unfamiliar sound, but neither was it one that dacey was used to hearing as a result of something she had said. she had managed to swallow her own laughter at aleksander's expense earlier on, but brandon's own amusement coaxed it from her now. and yet, she would not be disloyal to the younger karstark now. "he was doing me a kindness," she attempted to explain. "i don't wish to insult whoever picked it out for me but it was... not to my taste. he might have abandoned me for a westerner, but he did save me from a night of wearing the that thing."

there had never been a time where the sight of stark and karstark in conversation, even dancing with one another, would have been a cause for raised eyebrows. not until now. she did not know if the separation was as felt by brandon as it was in winterfell. she had not spoke with owen about it, nor any of her other siblings, but she would not have been surprised if they harboured similar sentiments to dacey herself, that there was a wrongness to how everything had unfolded, and yet she was uncertain if there was really anybody at fault, or blame to be laid.

but if such a chasm was to exist, she would not be the one to further it. and once again, dacey found herself creeping in to something she did not really understand, trying to make the broken pieces fit back together.

it is not my own. dacey knew that people lied, for some as naturally as breathing. she did not believe brandon to be one of them, not he who had always been so honest, who had not lied to her when it had mattered most. in those five words, she would hear nothing but truth, because that was what she wanted to hear. if it were foolish to trust him now, then a fool she would be. she nodded her head, a silent acknowledgment of such sentiment.

"then i am sorry." had anybody told him that they were sorry? she did not know what had been said between him and owen behind closed doors. "you deserve more than to be made to represent something that is not your truth." they were not honeyed words, delivered with another intent, but said because that was exactly what dacey meant.

♞

"she's what?" brandon asked, an incredulous sound to his voice that was far rougher around the edges than he ever could have anticipated - perhaps because of all the things he was expecting to hear this night, the idea of aleksander finding himself tangled up and enjoying the company of some westerwoman was at the bottom of his list. "he's what?" he repeated, in the very same tone, though this time accompanied with the sound of his own laughter. the idea of him wearing the mask that belonged to the princess; perhaps he had been in the cups for all of this night.

if gods be good, he'll awake tomorrow and the redheaded girl will be a memory, or halfway out of the door. "yeah, he has his moments alright."

he heard her quiet comment regarding not appearing so out of place, and whilst his first initial reaction was to begin to dismiss it, he found himself holding his tongue; perhaps because he did not want to draw further attention to whatever feelings of self-consciousness she felt. they were in the middle of the dance floor, and whilst they could be spotted, they would not be in the forefront of all attention - apart from any courtiers of the north, who could very much be wondering what it was the pair were doing associating with one another.

but that was the thing - the narrative that had begun, was not a narrative of his own. it was not brandon karstark who called for the true north; his fracture from court was for no greater purpose than to stand by his own morals.

and stop himself from killing jin renshu; if it were the very last thing he would do, it would be that. if there was any matter he would risk facing the worst of sentences for, it was that. but he could do not that - not yet, not until aleksander had gotten married and had at least one heir to secure the family line. the slight frown that crossed her features, illuminated in candlelight, was the reason he wanted to speak to her in the privacy of such a thing - a dance was public, but their conversation was between them. "it is not my own." he responded, his tone quieter now; as though he wanted her to believe him.

because he would always care for what the starks thought of him. their sun of winter; he who knew no king other than whose name was stark. "i didn't call for it. people use what is already public to have their own issue."

dacey shook her head. "she's a westerner, i think," she offered, knowing that this was not helpful information. they were in the west. of course there would be westerners here. it did not help to narrow down her identity. she pressed her hand to her mouth to conceal her own laughter. though aleksander was otherwise occupied, not there to see dacey's amusement at her own expense, it still felt unkind to laugh at brandon's teasing of him. "i don't know. he has his moments, and he's wearing my mask. maybe that's what she finds so funny," she pointed out. he had swapped with her without complaint, despite looking a little ridiculous as a result.

from polite distance to the heavier tone of their last meeting, there was a levity to the conversation that had not formerly existed between dacey and brandon. and perhaps it had with owen, with cassana, but it was a side to him she had never known, and a side to her she rarely showed, save to those who knew her best. she was comfortable in a way that she was with the few she called friends - were they friends?

"i won't look quite so out of place, then." here was humour she was more comfortable with, jabs at her own expense rather than at the expense of aleksander karstark. though she was no great dancer, she still bore a small semblance of hope, however, that she had a little more grace than to look like a flopping fish.

he led her to the centre of the floor, and she let him, appreciated him for that, even. in the middle of the crowd, it was easier for the pair of them to be lost in it. one hand in his, the other on his shoulder, she was not sure if she was dancing as much as moving, allowing brandon and the natural jostling of the crowd to guide her. and for a moment, dacey forgot everything that she was attempting to carry on her shoulders, forgot the troubles waiting for her on her return to the north.

until he mentioned the true north. a small frown appeared on her face, and she tensed a little, but she nodded. "i have heard of it," her speech was more intentional, now, laced with a sort of weariness. brandon had become a rallying point for those who called themselves the true north, but dacey did not know how closely affiliated he truly was with them and what they believed in. "but i don't know what to make of it." she looked at him then, but said nothing more, a silent invitation for him to add his own perspective, if he wished to.

♞

"any idea who the redhead lass is?" brandon asked, his voice rougher around the edges - there was nothing that genuinely worried him regarding the sight, as at the end of the day, it was not something serious. "gods know why she's laughin' so much, he ain't that funny." his words were taunting, a keen glimpse into the reality of the nature of the brotherly relationship. if any were the centre of brandon's world, it was aleksander - none other.

what brandon saw was a man having some fun, with what appeared to be a lass from the riverlands down south to them; so long as he was careful and did not leave his bastards in her, he cared not for what or who aleksander spent his time with. such was the reality of being a man; or being men, with no sister whose honour they would need to defend themselves.

intentions that remained as pure as the winter sun itself seemed to lead and guide brandon karstark through his decisions this night within the land of the west, and whilst he felt a great deal of concern and issue and even guilt for the laughter that rung through the halls, he also found himself on high alert - no doubt because of the tensions that grew between northmen and westermen during the dance. they were too different, on opposites sides of two different worlds: they had not needed to share the same space, and yet, here they were.

"not sure if i'd call this southern jumpin' dancing." he spoke, briefly meeting her gaze with a warm smile crossing his features. "look like fishes outta water, they do."

still, he did not wish to bring the mood of the princess down. it had been made obvious that she was more publicly visible than she had ever been before, picking everything up and trying to lace it together. if any deserved respite from the worry and from the concern, it was her. when she greeted him with her usual small hello, he merely nodded his head in her direction, as though to accept her greeting before leading her onto the dance floor. it was the least he could do considering aleksander's treachery.

his instinct was go in the middle of the dance floor, so they were not on the edges and clearly watched; he did not know why he did not want to be watched. still, he maintained her gaze as he put his hand upon her waist, as though to give her a heads up he would be doing that - and then they found themselves swept into the dancing, becoming a whirling mess. perhaps they weren't doing the correct dance moves. "you've heard of it, haven't you? this true north." he spoke as they danced.

it felt as though there were a dark cloud gathering around dacey stark more often than not these days, the unbearable pressure of an oncoming storm weighting her down. the lingering worry was a constant companion, but in the days since king's landing, it had grown teeth, tearing at her from the inside out. was she the only one to see it? sometimes, it certainly seemed that way.

but not tonight. there was a certain joviality in the air, and it was catching. she was still nervous to be in the west, but here, at least, she had managed to leave her anxieties behind her, and do something that was not the norm for the princess of winter - she was managing to enjoy herself. her sister was still missing. the northern schism still made it's presence known. and yet, tonight she had smiled more, laughed more, enjoyed the company of aleksander karstark, whose friendship remained thankfully untainted despite having every reason to crumble.

aleksander was not the only karstark who had her attention tonight. more than once, she had seen brandon amongst the crowds, and when her dark eyes glanced over him, she could have sworn he was looking at her, too. she did not approach him. brandon karstark had taken measures to put distance between himself and winterfell, and though their last conversation was never far from her thoughts, she would respect that.

she did not need to. when dacey found herself standing alone, lingering on the edge of the merriment, it was brandon karstark who approached her, and when he spoke, dacey smiled, tentative and encouraging, one hand reaching to tuck back a stray lock of her hair. "hello, lord karstark."

perhaps she should have been wearier to speak with him, paying more heed to the divisions his absence had created. the true north, they called it, and that scared her, uncharted territory for the place she called her home. she had never thought to see brandon and owen on separate sides, the figureheads of factions that sat in opposition to one another, but it had happened. and yet, she did not feel any trepidation, nor unease.

"he has," she confirmed, a quiet laugh accompanying the words. "but i think we can forgive him that, just this once." aleksander's attention was firmly fixed upon the girl he had taken to the dancefloor, and dacey would not begrudge him that. he deserved to enjoy himself, and she would not confine him to the sidelines with her.

but then, a hand was extended, without words, but the intent was clear. he was inviting her to dance. and dacey did not think, did not stop to consider whether it was the right thing to do or not. if she had, perhaps she would not have placed her hand in his, fingers curling around his own, and let him lead her to the dancefloor.

"i should warn you," she laughed again, but this time, at her own expense. "i've always been a terrible dancer."

who: @daceystvrk when and where: lann's day, the westerlands

how it was he had been able to identify the individual behind the mask was something he did not entirely understand, nor contemplate, nor think too much on: his gut instinct seemed to only indicate toward being moved to stand in her presence. perhaps because his warm, grey gaze moved to meet her own multiple times whilst he were in conversation, or whilst she was in conversation with his own younger brother – and he knew who aleksander had planned on accompanying to the lann’s day festivities that evening. 

still, he knew not what seemed to pull him in her direction; only that at one point, he seemed to have blinked, and he found himself stood before her – goblet of ale still within one of his hands. “princess.” his voice was rough, his karhold accent remaining wrapped around it: if she did not already know who he was, that simple word would have been enough to give it away in an instant. 

whatever pull, or invisible string, that seemed to have slowly begun to weave was one he did not understood nor fully acknowledge yet at this point: but their whispered conversation regarding the extent of the activities the princess alysanne had taken part in that fateful night in the woods seemed to have bound them in some way. did she know there was something he was not entirely comfortable speaking of yet?

did he want to burden her with discussions of her missing sister, when the idea of celebrating and allowing themselves to be swept into southern revelry still felt entirely wrong when one of the pack was missing? 

unaccounted for; no closure, for any questions that lingered. but what was he to do? there were enough rumours regarding him, and the stance of the karstarks as a whole: to continue rocking the manderly boat would only prove the rumours true. that he were trying to stand against something. all brandon karstark wanted, was to be left in his own seat: with his own people, within parts of the north he still recognised. but the manderlys had stressed the opportunity of negotiations with the westerlands, and here they were.

there was a stark missing. who were they becoming?

still, his brother had found himself wrapped up in the presence of a woman with hair of flames, and he couldn’t help but lightly smile at the sight of the woman stood to the side of the room; almost as though she were trying to busy herself. “has that treacherous mud man left ya to yer own devices?” there was a light humour in his voice, one that masked the weariness that he felt in his lack of sleep these days. he still smelt the scent of his wife, heard the sound of her sighs as she turned to sleep on her side; but the bed was empty. he simply offered her his hand to take, nodding his head in the direction of the dance floor.

in truth, he wondered if she would close herself from his speech. the true north, was what he apparently represented: what did that mean the king represented? 

a small part of dacey hoped that brandon would confirm that he knew exactly where saoirse was. that this was all a big misunderstanding, and he would take her to her sister, and things would slowly begin to return to normal - or as normal as they could be, given everything else that had happened since their arrival. they would return home, and she would hold her sister close and repair the distance that had festered between them over the years. in their childhood, dacey and saoirse had been near inseparable. the younger sister's fostering in the riverlands had put an end to that, and now, she hated herself for not doing more. why hadn't she done more?

she took a shaky breath, an attempt to steady herself, return her voice to its usual cadence, but it had little effect. when she spoke again, her voice cracked, pitching unnaturally. "saoirse's rooms were empty this morning. it seems she is not in the tower." dacey had always been private with her emotions. she bore her grief and worry and melancholy quietly, away from prying eyes, but there was no hiding it now. later, perhaps, she would be embarrassed by herself, her lack of self-control. right now, though, her own shame was the furthest thing from her mind.

brandon's line of questioning was logical. "a hunting party?" she repeated, half a mutter, allowing herself a moment to ponder the thought. but then, surely her departure would have been seen? somebody would have noticed a princess of the north, would they not? "perhaps? i'm not sure. nobody has mentioned it to me, but perhaps lord manderly..." she broke off, for even in her distress, she was sensitive to the fact that this may be a sore subject for brandon.

her dark eyes met his, and she nodded her head a little. in a way, it was comforting to know that saoirse had been seen so recently. there was only a few hours between her disappearance and the search. "i could not remember the last time i saw her," she confessed, diverting her eyes to look at her ruined hands. she felt like she had failed her little sister. saoirse could be anywhere, dead, alive, in trouble, or simply exploring, unaware of the trouble she had caused. dacey didn't know, but she should.

there was another element to her guilt, one perhaps only brandon could understand. their last conversation hung heavily on her mind, though she had kept what they had discussed to herself. she believed that divulging what he had shared with her would only cause her family further heartache. now, she couldn't help but wonder if her two sister's disappearances were linked - and if they were, could she have prevented all of this? was it her fault?

"we don't know if it's connected to alysanne."

♞

the words that seemed to come tumbling from the lips of the princess who stood before him were words that caused his hands to fall on either side, almost as though there was a blow of defeat he were now dealing with at hearing such a thing: because it meant something was terribly wrong. alysanne's matter was on alysanne, and he thought it was supposed to be focused only on her - she who had taken part in such rituals and practices, and now faced the consequences of lore that ran too deep even for her to understand. but the other princess?

there was no reason for the other to be impacted and to have gone missing too, especially considering her hands had not touched such things?

or had they? was there something he was missing? had both sisters been involved in the matter. "...what?" brandon spoke, his voice ringing a sense of numbing shock that had not been heard since he had been told news of his wife's murder. of her butchering. this was not of his own, and yet, he began to feel as though something nefarious was happening. or, was it a guise of something entirely natural using the chaos of all that had happened to their advantage? there was a level of informality that came in his voice, a striking contrast to their last conversation where he had maintained such boundaries - as she had too. "what you mean?"

brandon knew what she meant, and yet, the thought in itself was enough to cause genuine discomfort to come over him. his grey orbs flickered over the various other northern faces in the hall, some of whom seemed as upset and disturbed as the princess, and others who appeared afraid, looking over their shoulder. "there was a hunting party that left this morning." and there were multiple people going missing from kings landing - from the dornish to the north. were they all connected? they could not have all been connected. unless there was something darker going on here. "are we sure she did not leave with them?"

they would need to leave, was his own take on the matter; gods knew he would tell aleksander he thought it best to return north. some would wish to remain to search, and yet, it was clear this was no place for them. what made him the most uneasy was the fact not once did thought of the dragon king cross his mind, not once did he put it down to him. he only thought of the sight of the woods that night, and the sounds of the chanting. he would need to speak to someone.

"i saw her yesterday during the feast." brandon offered words of attempted comfort; the night where the majority of the northern court gathered together in the great hall allocated to them within kings landing, the tensions and fractures obvious in the air. there was a lack of spirit, and of joy; the king was an increasing drunk, it appeared, and the manderlys found themselves stepping further and further into the light of power. "i don't remember how many times…did she not leave before us all?"

it did not take more than a cursory glance in dacey's direction to see that something was very, very wrong. her dark eyes were darting around the room frantically, and her hands, which were never still at the best of times, were moving a mile a minute. if she stopped to still them, to look down, she would notice that her fingers were bleeding.

it wasn't until she had been informed of saoirse's disappearance that she realised, with a sinking heart, that she did not know when she had last seen her sister. and now she was missing, just like alys, and dacey could not help but shoulder the guilt for it. she did not want to be a selfish person - but she had been, so concerned with what was happening in her own head that she did not see past her nose at what was happening to those she claimed to love. the guilt chewed at her, and it hurt.

there was enough movement that she did not immediately notice the karstark's appearance - not until brandon was close enough to her that she could meet his gaze. dacey looked up, silent for a moment. the facts as she knew them were this: alysanne was gone, and thanks to the last talk she had with the lord of karhold, she had her suspicions as to exactly what had happened, and knew somewhere deep in her stomach that she would never again see her elder sister alive. the second truth was that saoirse, too, found herself lost - but this time, dacey did not have the slightest inkling what might have occurred. was it another casualty of alysanne's folly, or something else entirely?

dacey opened her mouth to greet him, but what came out was not a polite hello. "have you seen my sister?" she paused. "saoirse," she added. it was ridiculous that she even needed to clarify exactly which sister they were looking for. if she wasn't so close to the epicentre of it all, she would almost look upon the situation with disbelief. "we can't find saoirse." her voice had grown thicker, the lump in her throat growing painfully large as she attempted to choke out the words. her lashes moved rapidly to blink back the tears she'd been too worried to shed, until that moment. it was all too much, too quickly.

who: @daceystvrk when and where: kings landing, brandon karstark enters the main gathering hall allocated for the northern court to find a tense, stressed atmosphere. within the middle of the hall is princess dacey stark.

the king's road would be a long journey, venturing through the length of the continent; and yet, the northern court within kings landing had been busying itself. there was a constant bustle of movement in the preparation to depart, for the hour of the wolf had come to an end - northmen did not belong in the south, and each time they did venture south, it was made abundantly clear why they were not supposed to be here.

loyally dedicated men who fought black now looked upon the green dragons, and there was noticeable tension in the air.

"something's off." brandon walked into the room alongside his brother, surrounded by the squires and other men of houses karstark and reed alike: at first glance it appeared as though the hall was just bustling and busy, and yet a second glance revealed more about the situation at hand. there was an issue, it was apparent in the faces of the servants, the way nasir manderly was giving orders to multiple men that surrounded him, and close to him stood the princess dacey stark; he thought of their last interaction and hoped she had not dabbled in what it was he had advised her against.

his brother stepped forward into the crowds, pushing through to enquire from the manderlys about what was happening; there were multiple people lined up giving their statements, as though they were being questioned. the king in the north was nowhere to be seen: though something told him that matter was only more pressing. more of a concern.

brandon himself did not step forward to speak, silently watching his brother instead: and yet, when a familiar gaze turned and looked upon him, he only lowered his head in a show of respect.

it took a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering whether he ought to even wonder about such a thing: but he followed in the footsteps of his younger brother, parting through the crowds as he approached the princess of the north. the closer he got, the more obvious it was that she was greatly concerned about something. his mind immediately jumped to alysanne, and he felt his stomach twist. "highness." he greeted, his tone weary. trying to read between the lines.

brandon was never good at reading between the lines. had they found alysanne?

a stab of guilt twisted at dacey’s gut when she looked at him. he was already a man burdened - you did not have to possess any great level of empathy to take note of that, and here she was, bringing more struggles to his door. she should have left him alone, should have found another source for the answers she sought.

but then, would anybody else be able to grant them? who else, if not brandon karstark? not for the first time, worry sparked in her, an uncertainty of what they would do without him when his presence in the stark’s lives had been so constant for so long, but that was something to turn over later, when she was alone without the distraction of standing in front of him.

they were speaking as plainly as dacey knew how, but there was still so much that wasn’t said - by her, and certainly by brandon. they were avoiding the inevitable conversation. she wasn’t sure if that would ever be addressed between them, if it was even her place to. it was an unscalable wall, and she wasn’t mentally prepared to climb it. she would not be the one to reopen wounds that had not yet begun to heal.

“no.” she agreed. “not in the way my sister was.” but there was a fundamental difference between alysanne and dacey. where the elder of the two invited such things, dacey was seeking to put an end to it. to rid winterfell of everything dark and dangerous, and hope that was enough. she didn’t know much, but she could not rid herself of the suspicion that doing so would not be the simple task he was posing it as.

she took a breath, small, but audible, as though steeling herself to say something she didn’t want to. “but i do want to be rid of all the things she’s left behind. i don’t think that will be so simple as casting them upon the fire.” she looked at him, half a moment away from begging him to tell her that she was wrong.

it wasn’t in dacey’s nature to lead the charge when trouble presented itself. she could scarcely remember the last time she had been involved in matters of the kingdom, save for her quiet, steadfast support. but times were changing, and she was tired. too much had been lost, and the eyes of those she would normally trust to handle things like this were either turned elsewhere or gone forever. and so, it fell to her, the wolf who had never found her howl nor bite.

she heard his warning, considered it, then nodded. “there’s something you’re holding back.” it was a statement of fact, devoid of confrontation, spoken with nothing but concern. “and i understand. i don’t expect…” she trailed off, mind racing to find the right words. “i trust you.” any bad blood between stark and karstark would not find root in dacey stark. perhaps it should have been easier for her to put distance between them, when more of it existed to begin with than with owen or alys or cassana, but that wasn’t so. “and i’m sorry. for bringing this to your door.”

♞

he found no insult in her natural assumption that brandon himself could have provided more light on the complexities of what it was they were beginning to wade through, a pool whose water had long since darkened and was far deeper than either of them could thoroughly grasp and understand. his hand moved to rest on the side of his neck with a low exhale, a movement he often did when he found himself thinking, and thinking, and then overthinking.

there would be no way the princess, or any living soul, would be able to encounter the associate that alysanne had found herself working closely with - and the reason why came not from differences within their class, title or rank. the reason why, was because that woman no longer was able to speak, or be, anything.

a part of him knew wished to address something, the obvious space in the room: the obvious matter which needed to be discussed when the names stark and karstark came together in a sentence within these months. even the lowest at court had heard the news of the king obtaining a new hand, and the sun of winter no longer sat upon the council at all: that, paired with aleksander's noticeable storminess he showed toward the majority of starks, truly set the scene before any who had any questions.

"hm." came his only response regarding what was right, and what was wrong. even after everything, he still believed entirely in the concepts - that all humans knew the difference between what was right, and what was wrong. he hoped she did not address what it was she seemed to dance around, with a tone and a poise so elegant it appeared as though she could have been some blue rose, plucked from the rolling fields of the reach or the banks of the trident, and forced to withstand the harsh snows of the far north.

he remained stood with both of his hands clasped before his furs, half expecting the conversation to come to an end, for her to offer him dismissal. and for him to be able to let out the breath he kept caged deep within his chest. and then she uttered the words which made his grey gaze go from utterly aloof, to his usual gaze. a flicker of the sun of winter, a flicker of recognition. "yer not desperate enough to engage in such matters." he responded, his tone far curter and more informal than it had been some moments previously.

the last thing he needed, was a princess of the north going poking her head in the matters of various woods witches, following a conversation with him. the last thing he needed, was more being traced back to him. no, he was no longer the hand of the king, but gods knew he would have no trouble in going to owen directly and informing him of what seeds were being planted here. "yer right. she ain't here to stop." he heard the sounds of his boots crunching beneath his feet again, the sound of an ancient tongue coming from the lips of the princess - the sight of her eyes going white, then black, and the blood seeping from her nose. he had stopped her then. was he to blame for this?

"alysanne knew her stuff, and still, she found herself…" his voice trailed, as though he were hinting at the obvious. somewhere deep within his gut, he knew she was dead: knew she was no longer breathing. he could still hear her laugher from across the table. "if the line ain't for crossin', then i advise you. do not cross it."

"easy enough, yes," there was a glimpse of a smile, tired and heavy and devoid of any real amusement. "but not right." brandon had been a guiding light for the starks for a long time ; so long that it was difficult to think of him as anything but infallible, someone who held answers where they were needed. he was not that anymore, nor did she imagine he wanted to be, but old habits died hard.

"i'm sure there are." finding answers would not be the issue, she expected, but finding answers from people she trusted was another matter entirely. it wasn't that she was cynical. if anything, she was naïve, offering more goodwill than was deserved at times, but the list of people she could trust dwindled by the day. she was certain brandon would understand that. you could not go through something like what he had faced and not lose some of your ability to trust.

the facts as dacey understood them were this: alysanne, whether with the best of intentions or not, had dabbled in things best left untouched. alysanne was gone, and there were no clues to unravel, no leads to follow, and no indication she would ever return. alysanne had left behind her remnants of what, in dacey's eyes, was a dire mistake, and the only thing she could do was ensure nobody else had to pay the price for it.

"then i suppose i know where i should start," there was a resigned sort of acceptance in her voice, as though she'd rather be doing anything else but that, and that was because she would. "assuming her associates will make themselves known to me." she had no idea how to circumnavigate that particular snag, but she would cross that bridge when it came to it.

at the mention of jon, something in her seemed to shift. her back stiffened, an anger uncharacteristic to dacey crossing her face. "we were all desperate." what had happened had broke something in dacey, perhaps beyond repair. she understood desperation, but this she could not condone. "there are still lines that should not be crossed. are not meant to be crossed." she understood her view of the world wasn't the norm, too idealistic, to unrealistic, especially for the north, but if this was the depths they were willing to stoop to, did that make them any better than those they would call enemies?

there was logic in what he was saying, but something tugged at the back of dacey's mind anyway. perhaps it was simply the fact she was born with all the caution other starks lacked, too much of it. she'd never been one for kicking a hornet's nest - and the situation at winterfell had never felt so complex. "was," she repeated, more of a musing than anything else.

"yes," she had to concede that, if nothing else, owen would want to know. "and yet you know all you have told me, and don't know if he does. which means you haven't told him, either." it was not an accusation, her words as gentle as they had been since the moment she entered the room. "and i understand our reasons may be different," she added. "but what good would it do? he can't stop her. she isn't here to stop."

♞

there was a level of self consciousness that became clear in the minor details of how she stood before him, and yet there had never been a time where he could not recall her in such a way. "easy to assume." he spoke, referencing the culture of karhold: they were further north than many, with their own dialect. the sun tongue. and dacey before him, had always remained the quiet princess, the soft princess, caught in the middle of the pack: who would ever hear the gnawing of paws upon the dirt of the earth when the others howled over each of her attempts?

"there are many who would be able to provide you with the real answers you seek." the north was rooted in ancient practices, a place so strange he almost forgot - that was until he was beyond the wall, visiting his uncle who remained the current lord commander of the night's watch. the desolate emptiness and the creeping knowledge of what remained beyond the wall, the strange practices that caused a chill to run down the back of his spine.

he could delve further into the information regarding what it was she sought that night, reveal the conversations they had within the wagon or atop horseback through all weathers as they passed through the neck. he was not knowledgeable enough about such practices, though he had gotten her message all too clearly: there was ample risk in what it was she was planning to do. he cleared his throat slightly as the memories of the night flooded back to him, the churning sound of the wind and the leaves beneath his feet as he witnessed her stood by a fire; and when she looked up at him, there was blood running from her nose. with eyes that remained black.

and perhaps he would have backed away rather than forward, if he had not been confronted with what it was the old gods could force upon mortals merely some weeks earlier. he'll never forget the way in which meera reed's body had remained warm, for the days they spent travelling for her to be entombed within karhold. the sight of her eyes as they opened, and she drew in a large amount of breath that sounded like her last all the while.

"i can confirm the princess spent time studying such practices. she had many associates within the woods." the witches, who too worked methods that could be used for good or for evil. brandon firmly believed it was not magic itself that was evil, but how it was to be used. "after the murder of the late prince, she was desperate." and those were all the words he was ready to say on the matter, until she spoke of perhaps not mentioning details to the king.

brandon found himself wondering how he had managed to stumble himself in such a situation - as though he had not sworn the personal matters of the starks was not his issue. and now, the princess admitted to perhaps withholding information from the king - information he knew. "we both know the fixation the king holds on knowing all the facts." brandon responded. speaking objectively about his closest friend, his closest companion: who had once been so much shorter than him. "he would want to know. she was his twin, in the end."

dacey turned her head, dark eyes fixing on brandon. there was much that neither was saying, but she wasn't sure they needed to. she couldn't change what had come to pass, but that did not erase the years of knowing him. there was a small comfort in that, the fact that despite everything, she could still find a way to understand him.

"no, of course not." she almost felt a fool for asking. she was in unfamiliar territory, tasked with dealing with things that scared her, that her morals did not hold with, but that did not need to become his problem. still, there was a hesitancy in her, as though spending enough time with what alys had left behind to get rid of them would stain her by mere proximity. she dropped her gaze to her hands. "if there's a way to get rid of such things without making things worse, i'll find it."

she knew little of such practices, except for the gnawing feeling that alys dabbling in them had been a dreadful mistake, and that she would need to be careful in how she proceeded. her first instinct was to throw the whole cursed lot into the fire, but the logical part of her mind told her that would be a grave mistake. the old valyrian empire was steeped in stories of magic, coming from fire and blood. dacey kept to the old gods, but there was a significance to the flame she didn't want to invite. neither did she want to remove alys' belongings in such a way that others could find them.

"and what are your thoughts, brandon?" the formality between them was dropped, driven from her head by the distraction the issue before them presented. she could guess, and was pretty certain her assumptions were close to accuracy, but she would hear it in his own words first, should he be willing to share them with her.

"hmm." her brow furrowed. "i suppose whether or not owen knows is... somewhat irrelevant. for as long as alys remains missing, at least." something deep in dacey's heart told her she would not see her sister again. should that continue to remain true, she wasn't sure that owen's knowledge was relevant. "i don't think i'm going to tell him."

♞

there was a heavy beat of silence in the aftermath of her words, that were tainted with a hint of annoyance that sounded so inherently abnormal within her voice. they were the same in some regard, swept up in the decisions and circumstances of the gods to have to transform, mutate, according to their will. somewhere deep within the sun of winter, the sight of the flames that licked the heart tree and spread from branch to branch as though it were limb from limb, and he knew that the gods would remain unhappy with him.

"i do not know such the depth behind such things, yer highness." brandon spoke, his karhold accent wrapping around each of his words: rougher than the other northern dialects, he found himself thinking back on that night they had embarked for the neck, to cross into the land of rivers and feast within the hospitality of house blackwood - distant kinsfolk. to have emerged from the tent to hear the raspy sound of a voice that was not alysanne's, and the knowing of what it was he needed to halt. to stop.

"princess alysanne heard all my thoughts on the matter." in the end, she had warned him that the ritual had been left incomplete: and yet such action and darkness was not his place to merely turn a blind eye to. brandon karstark was a northman, but meddling in such magic and was only asking for further trouble.

the gods were beyond unhappy. there would come the need for penance, from some place or another. at sometime, when he expected it or when he did not expect it. there was a time where he would have tried to ease the concern and anxiety this may have brought forth, if not with overt affection, than at least with words of warmth that would provide a sense of everything be okay in the end. he hated how he no longer believed such a thing; the concept that everything would turn out okay in the end. it was far from it, and that was obvious.

"i cannot confirm if the princess informed the king." how was he to know such things anymore?

she shouldn't have come here. for the first time, dacey was struck by the selfishness of what she had done in facing brandon. after everything, the way that things had gone so south, it felt almost like inflicting another cruelty on him by making him sit with a stark. she had thought only of herself, seen him as a path to her answers. she should have found a better way, but it was too late for that. there was a stilted edge to the conversation, both deliberately ignoring all that they could say. if she was a bolder person, more like cassana maybe, perhaps she could find the words that she currently couldn't grasp. but that wasn't her way, and so the barrier remained.

his response was both vague, and yet completely plain to her. dacey stilled for a moment, mind racing as she tried to rationalise what he was telling her, her heart sinking as she realised it made complete sense. the silence stretched for a moment, and she squeezed her eyes shut, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"well," she began, and was even surprised herself by the annoyance that tinged her voice. "that explains a lot, doesn't it?"

she couldn't pinpoint exactly why she was annoyed, but there was an anger towards alys that was rising within her that she hadn't anticipated. perhaps it was annoyance at herself, that she had locked herself away, turned a blind eye for so long that this was where they had ended up.

she thought of old stories, told to her in her childhood, racking her brains for what she knew. there was one thing that stuck out to her - a warning that such ancient practices had their price. was alys' disappearance the cost paid? or did it lie in jon's death? rosalyn's? meera's? she didn't know if the blame was at alys' feet, or if this was a completely irrational line of thought, but it was one that gnawed at her all the same.

"who knows?" she didn't know why that mattered to her, only that it did. then, there was the issue of removal, which presented just as many problems as solutions. "you said it was to aid the war," her hands had fallen into her lap, her right thumb scratching lightly at the skin of her left hand. "can i be sure that won't do more harm than good?"

♞

it were a peculiar and obvious change, to see the emergence of another stark princess when one had gone missing. there had been no leads as to her vanishing, no traces to follow in what could have happened; only an open window during a stormy night, in a tower that was too high to scale, with no ways in which she could have escaped from it. there was a small voice at the back of his head, which only asked him why he bothered in such things.

was it not the responsibility of adam stark that his own sister was dead? was it not the responsibility of king owen stark that his own wife was now a lifeless, cold corpse? his gaze looked upon the princess of winter, and there was a level of distance within them that was different to what he usually showed toward the children of winterfell that he once would have considered his own siblings.

now, though, his distance was obvious. as though they had both drawn a line in all that had happened, and there was no changing it. no blurring it. no going above, or beyond it. "yer highness." brandon's voice remained wrapped in his usual karhold accent, his hands clasped before his heavy furs: making no other response to her words of gratitude. let them see what it was they needed to discuss, so the distance between stark and karstark could once again be put firmly in place.

be useful, were the words she uttered. he heard something she did not necessarily say, though made no reaction to it. again, his blankness was unusual: it was all wrong. but it felt as though this was how things would be, and they would grow into the mighty change. his gaze flickered her direction as she pulled out items. he knew what they were. the last he had seen them was the night he had ruined what it was she was trying to do. stopping her.

"her highness turned to ancient practices, to aid in the war for winterfell." ancient practices. woods witches. magic, which took both forms. "yer'll be wantin' to remove such things from yer household."

the northern court was no stranger to upheaval, usually riding on the back of tragedy. dacey had learned that nothing was permanent - but there were some things that she had never anticipated changing. brandon karstark’s position was one of those immutable things, so guaranteed that she had never thought of a world were he was not owen’s hand. but the old gods had shown her the folly of thinking in certainties, and caused yet another seismic shift that left the pair of them on shaky ground. 

she could not find it in her to throw up a wall between them, to act as though he was nothing to the starks but a bannerman of the north. he deserved better than that. but neither could she bring herself to acknowledge what he had been through. dacey was not a worldly woman. her life had been touched by loss, but not like this. she did not have the words to try and empathise or offer comfort, and she was cautious enough to recognise that even if she had, they may not be welcome from her. 

she was not owen stark, the similarities between she and her brother few and far between, but her loyalty to him was another of those certified facts that couldn’t be shaken. even when his actions did not align with what she would do, she trusted that he knew best. 

she could not say the words that darted around in her head, so she thought them, as though if she willed them into existence hard enough, the sentiment would somehow reach him, and brandon would know. thank you for my sister. i’m sorry this is how things ended up. i wish i could change it for you. you deserve better.

and then there was alys. another circumstance she couldn’t understand, but in this, dacey felt a little less helpless to act. she could not explain where her older sister was, did not know if her disappearance was connected to word from dorne, but there was something inside her that told her that she would not see alysanne stark again. what she could do was lessen the gap that she had left behind. for owen. for the north. 

“thank you,” her voice was little more than a whisper, the soft tones one might use to try and calm a snarling wolf. “i appreciate any help you can offer.” she would have understood if he refused her, but was endlessly glad that he had not. they still felt as though they were in unfamiliar territory with one another, but they could still hold eye contact over the chasm that stretched between stark and karstark. they were not lost to one another yet. 

“i’ve been trying to organise my sister’s things.” she did not feel the need to explain which sister, trusting that brandon could infer which stark princess she was talking about. “trying to… help, i suppose. be useful.” this was irrelevant to why she was here, a delayal of what she had come to speak about. 

she shifted on her feet, uncomfortable, hands tightening on the strap of the leather satchel she had brought with her. she didn’t know exactly what she was carrying, but there was an uneasy feeling that came when she looked at them, merely thought about them. she could have simply cast them aside, but something nagged at the back of her mind, telling her there was more to this than she could possibly know. 

“i came across some things i don’t really understand.” she admitted. “and i thought out of everyone, you might. understand, i mean.” she reached into the satchel, withdrawing from it a stack of papers neatly bound in twine, covered with alys’ own hand, and holding them out to brandon. there was more where that came from, books and items that made the back of her hair stand on end, but this was a start. 

“i don’t like the feeling i get when i look at them.”

♞

all knew that brandon karstark was no longer the hand of the winter king - and it did not require the extensive intelligence of a maester to grasp the reasons why. the murder of lady meera reed at the hands of jin renshu had spread around the northern court, and even beyond it, like wildfire: the same way the flames had spread through the ancient trees of the heart tree. somewhere, he had come to the deep acknowledgement that there would need to be a balance in the world following such an action - the gods would have cast their backs on him.

if that meant the princess cassana stark was freed of the ropes that bound her beneath it in the chaos, then surely it would be considered worth it? right?

there had been disappearances, two; seeming to have happened on the very same day. the world of ice and the world of the sun had each lost an important member of their court, if the reports from the dornish was to be considered true: and he could not help but feel his stomach drop at the idea that they could have somehow been linked. the princess had accompanied brandon karstark to yule within the land of rivers for the celebrations, though in their journey there he had found something out.

witnessed something about her choices, which she had remained firmly in favour of. something about the disappearance seemed to settle badly in his gut, the idea that it was beyond the actions of humans - who, even in themselves, remained wicked. he knew this went beyond it - meaning, he also knew there was little they could do to retrieve her. princess dacey of house stark had been told to step into the duties of her sister, as the world needed to continue to spin - and brandon found himself weary of speaking and involving himself in the family.

but how could he not, when they had grown together as kin? his recent fracture with the king did not mean all the starks would no longer trust him. there was no reason they should not trust him. "yer highness." brandon greeted, his hand resting on his chest in an action of humbleness; not on the council, but still a subject. "i will do all i can." were his words in response; different to what he once would say. brandon was very much aware that there was only two karstarks left in the world: the cold winter had taken the babies their mother had once birthed. sickness, disease.

"what worries you, princess?"

@wintervsuns

in the face of past loss, dacey had crumbled. it had made her weaker, crumbling in on herself until all that remained was a ghost of a girl. this time, though, there was something different about it. perhaps she was just tired of being weak, or perhaps she had been dulled to what it means to lose someone, but her sister’s disappearance hadn’t cowed her. not this time.

instead of retreating further into herself, dacey had rolled her sleeves up and made herself useful. that began with clearing alysanne’s things, deciding what could be of use, what exactly dacey needed to step into her shoes. in the process of doing so, she had come across some things she didn’t quite understand, but looked important enough that she did not want to keep the discovery to herself.

that was what brought her to brandon karstark. if anybody could help her understand, he seemed a sensible first bet.

“lord karstark,” there was a tentativeness to her voice, a caution that made it clear she was very unsure of herself in the moment. “thank you for seeing me.” there was much she could say to him, but the words died in her throat.

“i was wondering if you could help me with something?”