✧  the Pack Survives ╱ Adam Stark - Blog Posts

closed starter for @adam-stark location: owen's birthday party

it had been early in the evening when dacey began to feel that familiar press in her chest, the weight of too much noise, too many voices, music and laughter and clinking goblets, too much to look at and listen to all at once. there were times when it was more tolerable than others, but tonight, with winterfell's feast hall dressed for celebration, it felt like it might swallow her whole. but it was owen's nameday, and for that reason alone, she did not slip away, no matter how much she wanted to.

it was obvious to any who knew her well - when her nerves got the best of her, her hands were never at rest. they were clasped neatly in front of her now, but her fingers twisted around each other, never once stilling, as she found herself drawn into conversation with yet another lord from the knot of courtiers she had found herself entangled in. he was telling a story she suspected was supposed to amuse her, and though she was nodding in the right places, smiling when it seemed called for, she hadn't heard half of it. her thoughts were elsewhere, half looking for a suitable gap in the conversation that never seemed to arrive in which she could excuse herself, and half adrift, caught in the well of the crowd and all the more overwhelmed for it.

she did not notice adam approach - not until he was already by her side, apologising to her company and offering his hand in a dance.it was more than obvious why he had done it, and she did not hesitate to let him guide her away. in fact, she almost could have wept with relief when he did. once they were out of earshot of the lord, clear of the worst of the crowd, did she exhale. she was usually no more comfortable on a dancefloor as she was in a crowd. there was no peace or stillness to be found here, but it was enough of a reprieve for now.

"sorry," she said, when she finally spoke, a sheepish look crossing her face, though the corners of her mouth turned up slightly in the shape of a smile. "you didn't have to come to my rescue, but i'm glad that you did." there was no mistaking her gratitude in that moment. "and apologies in advance if i step on your toes."

the moment cassana placed her head upon dacey's shoulder, her reaction was instinctual, one hand coming up to gently smooth across cassana's cheek, as though to check that she was all right without using words to do so, before letting her hand drop to her side again. it was unreserved in it's warmth in a way that was rare for daey for all but the youngest of her siblings.

there was no such warmth for cyrene. dacey did not miss the way cyrene's smile froze at the sight of her, and she responded by doing what she always did - by drawing back, away from what it was that was making her feel as though she did not belong here, in this place, where countless generations of starks had walked before. their reunion had been a tense one, and it seemed to have lingered.

and yet, she tried not to make it evident upon her face, tried not to spoil the peace the rest of them seemed to feel upon this reunion. cassana still stood by her side, and she allowed herself to draw strength from her presence, as she often did without the other knowing it. it was enough to paint a smile on her face, swallow down that knot of anxiety, and respond to what adam was saying, reminding herself that moment like these, when they got to be together like this, were a rare gift for them all.

"it does," she replied softly to adam, surprising even herself with the fact she were the first to speak. "i don't think i can recall the last time so many of us were here at once. it is usually quieter in the godswood, now life has taken us in our own directions." but for a moment, she could hear the shades of their childhood around them, laughter that had begun to echo long ago, and she felt a strange longing in her chest for it now. "but i have missed it. and i am glad the old gods saw fit to bring us together here again." even with those missing. even with those lost.

@owenstark

The King wanted to hunt and some times he wanted to go alone. On this day he traveled with his wolf. The great beast walking along side him as they made their way back. His horse carried a great stag on it's back and rabbits on the saddle. It would be a good meal, when the King wanted to eat well he would go out and get his own meat and have it roasted in butters and with vegetables and he would eat until he could not. Food and beer. It kept his mind at ease.

The sound of voices caught this attention. He dragged his fingers over his beard and took wrapped an arrow around his finger and lined it up as he walked closer. Calm washed over him as the voices were suddenly familiar and strange to him. Cyrene sounded different to his ears but he knew he all same. Adam was Adam, if his voice changed Owen would think another wore his face. And of course, Dacey, she carried a weight he always put on her shoulders. "Smoke get off her." Owen called out, putting the arrow away as Smoke ran up to Cyrene and put muddy paws on her front.

"And what do we have here?" A smiled graced his features briefly. "Starks in the Godswood. Have I stumbled upon the secret club house or has the old Gods brought us here?" Owen remember his secret cave with Alys and Jon, and it pained him to think of them so he pushed it away. "It's been too long since we've been a pack. We just need Cass." Those who were home at least. Life pulled them apart and together. Even as he tried, Owen did not feel like a brother. He felt like a King and he did not know how to turn it off.

@cassvstark

it wasn't until adam released her hand that dacey realised that, in his grasp, her fingers had been still for the first time in weeks. they itched to move again, to twist around each other in the way that had become both a nervous habit and a source of comfort, but she managed to hold off, dropping her hands into her lap and leaving them there, stone still and untwitching.

"and a good deal longer again, i hope," she had intended the words as a sort of strange, macabre joke, but her tone did not reflect that. instead of the wry humour it was meant to carry, her voice cracked in the middle of speaking. it wasn't a joke - as a family, they had tasted more than enough loss. it clung to them like the scent of smoke, filling their lungs until they choked on it. dacey wasn't sure she could take any more of it. "do not ask me not to worry for you. you'd have better luck asking the snow to stop falling." it wasn't that she didn't trust in adam's abilities. it was quite the opposite. with skill came renown, and renown made a man into a target.

"i'm grateful for that." she was. truly, she was. you did not need to posses greensight to notice that amongst the stark kin, dacey was the quieter of the bunch, not as stubborn, not as strong, but she loved just as fiercely, and that was what had her looking into adam's face with a smile painted on to her own. "when all this is over, i'll make good use of those ears of yours. for now, you don't need to carry my burdens. though if you have any of your own, i'll happily help to shoulder them for you."

For a moment they stayed like that, brother and sister silently holding hands, sharing a moment of the grief that had fallen upon the sons and daughters of Winterfell like the long night itself. Adam didn't think himself good with words, so he could at least offer Dacey his presence. He was the lone wolf of House Stark, but he was also a man who slowly attempted to change some of his solitary ways to be there for his siblings, those who mattered the most to him.

“Thank you,” he replied in a quiet tone, squeezing Dacey's hand a little tighter before he let go. The Commander of the Kingsguard sighed. The news of the latest victory of his commanded legion had been echoed through the whole of the North. The fires could be made out in the distance. The ash that snowed upon the region a testament to all that burned and died that day. “Do not fret about me, sister. I made a vow to Owen. To Jon... I intend to live long enough to keep it,” the prince added, his voice gravelly and with an undeniable undercurrent of determination. Adam Stark possessed the skill to cut through battle and survive, yes, but he also had that strange, newfound strength in him that the consumption of the xiangliao substance granted him. It was a feeling that came from a place of arrogance, but he did feel invincible. His men had been turned invincible. They were called berserkers now for a reason.

“What's on your mind, Dacey?” he asked, clear eyes of ice finding his sister's warm gaze. Quiet and private as she could be at times, Adam wanted to ensure she didn't feel unheard or unseen through this harsh time. The prince pulled his chair closer, angling it so he faced his little sister more directly. “If you ever wished to speak about it...” he trailed off. “Or speak about anything, really, I'm glad to lend my ear. Always”.

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.