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

willow moreno & her glasses :’)

the birthchart of dacey stark

sun sign : cancer

cancers are astrologically wired to channel their intense emotions to caring for others and expressing a unique understanding of the human condition and heart. compassionate, often sweet, always deeply feeling, you can rely on the cancers in your life to offer a shoulder to cry on. typical sun in cancer traits include being nurturing, sensitive, compassionate, self-protective, security-seeking, and loving. since the emotional, maternal moon influences cancer's personality so intensely, the water sign tends to prioritize — and occasionally twist themselves into knots — to make most people in their life feel even slightly more comfortable and secure. they'll pour their heart into caring for plants and pets just as much as they do loved ones. while they're loyal to the core and will always show up for their friends, family comes first. cancer's intense connection to their emotions doesn't come without its negative side, which is a tendency to be moody and snappy when rubbed the wrong way in a particularly sensitive, agitated state. whether they're worked up or drowning in their feelings, they'll be quick to retreat into their shell.

moon sign : aquarius

there may be something about an aquarius moon that somehow “separates” them from everybody else. a fixed sign, which gives qualities of focus, perseverance and endurance, when an aquarius moon individual has a clear idea, they are unlikely to easily change it. their position as someone already ‘on the outside’ gives them the ability to interpret the world around them from an often unique point of view. the placement of the moon in aquarius gives them incredible compassion. they are the person who will "take a bullet" for the one they love, and will be the first person to stand up for the rights of another. they can be very caring when they want to be, though it may not read that way to others at first, because you are also a quiet person who keeps their emotions to themselves. an aquarius moon knows what they want and believes in personal freedom and choices. they will uphold what you believe in, no matter how far-fetched others may find their decisions. in some ways, they prefer solitude as it makes them feel safe, and independence is their calling card. those around them will notice that they only march to your own drum, and they accept this about them. an aquarius moon is a deep thinker — so much so, that they tend to get lost in thought. people think of them as a worrywart, spending way too much time overthinking things until they make very little sense.

rising sign : pisces

pisces is a mutable water sign, and those with this rising sign appear deeply emotional and sensitive. the symbol for pisces is two fish swimming in opposite directions, representing the duality and connection between the imaginary world and physical reality. they are masters of making the imaginary seem possible, but they also can succumb to melancholy and suffering. it’s in their nature to go with the flow, like swimming through the waves of the ocean. this can sometimes lead them to be overly trusting, and they might struggle with setting boundaries. pisces risings possess a natural ability to connect with the energies of others, giving them an emotional intelligence in new social situations. while they have a gentle demeanor, they can also be elusive, often escaping into their rich inner universe to find comfort. pisces ascendants might find solace in the arts or healing modalities—whether it’s through music, painting, or writing—as a means to channel their vivid inner world. they can gravitate toward spirituality, but they also should be aware of becoming lost in their own illusions. the rising sign strongly influences physical appearance. the pisces rising often has a dreamy and mysterious look about them, with features that appear delicate and otherworldly. their eyes, in particular, are known to appear captivating, soulful, and dreamy—often reflecting a depth of emotion. like their symbol, the fishes, a pisces is not in a rush. they uncover the mysteries and depth of emotion with ease. not one for conflict, they can bring serenity and soothe those around them. they are also highly in touch with their intuition, whether they are aware of it or not. they are dreamers, artists, and healers, who are here to create beauty, inspire others, and bring a sense of enchantment to the lives they touch.

House Stark

of Winterfell

Winter Is Coming

credits: divider created by @zaldritzosrose

house stark won the poll. the next one is house velaryon!

dark half-moons had painted themself under dacey's eyes, a sure sign that she had slept very little in the nights leading up to this - the arrival of all who would see themselves as queen in the north, and the family members that came to support that ambition. she knew the north needed a queen, but more and more was she questioning owen's decisions. throwing the door open for all of westeros, bar a few notable exceptions, to throw their hat in the ring seemed to her like a recipe for disaster, but then, she had always been quiet and introverted. winterfell was her safest place, and though she were accustomed to guests, with it being the seat of a king, the idea of it being quite so full of strangers was not a pleasant one.

yet here she stood, in the courtyard, a smile laced with tension on her face as she greeted these invaders to her home. her hands were clasped before her, twisting around one another and betraying the anxiety she felt. owen's choice would be his own, but one that played on her mind, keeping her awake until the small hours as she carefully considered who she would see joining the wolves of winter.

and she did not think to see the distinctive sight of targaryen silver here. not in the north, given relations between owen and the king of new valyria were so fraught, but she quickly realised who it was. this must be the prince baelon, the son of rhaenyra, the black dragon the starks had once raised their banners for.

"your highness?" her voice was laced with uncertainty as she stepped forward to greet him. "welcome to winterfell, your grace. i trust the journey wasn't too difficult?"

Open starter

Where: Winterfell's Courtyard

When: Before the beginning of The Winter Ball, Baelon just arrived in Winterfell

Baelon did not mind the North. Actually, the only thing about it that bothered him was the cold, but he could deal with that. When he got the invitation from the King in the North to attend the event, he did not hesitate to accompany his sister. Baelon didn't want to let her attend alone, plus it was a good chance to get drunk without much judgement, it was a celebration after all. Along with that, the Starks were loyal to his mother to the very end and Baelon does not forget that. Even now, he believes that they did not forget their vows.

The trip had been a long and tiring one and Baelon could not wait to find his chambers, where a nice bed and a warm fire would be waiting for him. Winterfell was as beautiful as ever, the whole of the North was an incredible place, even though in his opinion, nothing would ever come close to his home of Dragonstone.

Baelon climbed down from his horse once they entered the courtyard of the castle. He handed the horse's lead to one of the servants that had come to meet him and his caravan, before nodding and thanking the young boy. Baelon paused for a moment, admiring his surroundings and observing who had already arrived in Winterfell. Not a familiar face, from what he could see. Although he failed to notice the figure approaching him.

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? 

"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."

closed stater for @percival-templeton location : owen's wifey search ball

if dacey had been uncertain about owen's choice to throw open the doors of their home to any unmarried lady looking to call herself a queen before, it had duplicated tenfold now that the hour had arrived. as the centre of the northern court, it was rare that winterfell wasn't housing a guest or two, but rarely was it quite as full as this. all of her favourite places to go to when she wished to look for peace were annoyingly full, and the result was this ; she stood in the hall, observing owen's ball, getting closer and closer to overwhelmed.

at some point, she had ended up outside, standing alone in the courtyard. it was not deserted here, either, but it was quieter than the hall had been, and the bite of the cold on her cheeks was enough to ground her, bring her out of her head and back to the present. that was what she had needed, a brief moment to breathe.

feeling a little more centred, dacey made to return to the ball, but came to an awkward stop at the door, her path blocked by a lord attempting to enter at the same time as she. she recognised him as percival templeton of the vale, but beyond his name and house, there was little else she knew about the man. graciously, dacey stepped back, giving him space to enter before she.

"apologies, my lord." her expression was serious, but not unfriendly. "please, after you."

she hesitated only for a beat, before nodding her head. "thank you, my lord." she'd never been entirely comfortable at events likes these, unsure how to act or behave for the best, and had not found it easier with age. in many ways, it only got more difficult. had percival not been there, she likely would have taken an extra second to steel herself at the door before walking through it. that was not an option with him standing there, and so, she hoped her reluctance did not show as she stepped through it.

she had expected that to be the end of it, courtesies exchanged at the door before he sought the company of his sister, or a friend, but then he spoke again. dacey turned her head, and a part of her was grateful he had initiated conversation. she was far better suited to one-to-one talks, and having this to focus on would prevent her from once again getting overwhelmed. "the honour is ours," she responded, a small smile crossing her face. "the vale are our allies. you are welcome here."

she did not know if this ball would come to anything, if owen would find a bride here or not, and whether it would be better if he did or did not. frankly, it was a trail of thought that made her head begin to ache, and so, she put it from her mind, and trusted in her brother's choices, as was often the easiest decision. things changed so quickly, and sometimes it felt like she was the only one remaining still.

"i know who you are, lord templeton," she said, then, worrying that it sounded rude or dismissive, was quick to add on to that statement. "but it is a pleasure to meet you properly, all the same." should she introduce herself? he clearly knew who she was, and yet it seemed presumptuous to not counter his introduction with one of her own. or would that just make her look a fool?

"i hope you and your sister have found yourselves comfortable."

The King in the North sought another bride after darling Rosa's untimely passing. It was anyone's guess if the Stark king would seek to pluck another fine woman of the Vale once more of if he sought something entirely different from the jewel he once had at his side. The Knight of Ninestars saw the king's ball as an opportunity for himself, as every situation tended to be translated in his mind. An opportunity for connections. An opportunity for alliances. Perhaps, an opportunity for more than just one man to find a future wife.

Used to living at heights of the continent, a Valeman's sights were usually high. Within his reach, nothing stood higher than a princess. So it was fortunate that his path led her to one of the beauties of the North as he was walking back into the great hall. “Apologies, your highness,” Percival spoke almost in unison with Princess Dacey Stark. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I walked in first? Please, princess,” he bowed, extending a hand to let her walk in before him. “I insist”.

The Knight of Ninestars didn't wish to let this incidental —and fortunate— encounter end at just that; a few words exchanged and the princess walking away. “His grace has hosted a beautiful event. I'm honored that me and my sister were considered to join your family as guests tonight,” he mentioned once the princess walked in and he did too, after her. It was usually so for the House of Ninestars, with Percival and Ginevra on the forefront, present at every social event, while Harlan and Elinor easily forgotten in the mediocrity of the cards they'd been dealt in life.

“Pardon me. Where are my manners? I'm Lord Percival Templeton, your highness. I don't believe we'd ever had the chance to be properly introduced,” the Commander of the Vale's Queensguard introduced himself with a pleasant smile, a polite gesture that easily bordered on being charming.

dacey had been spending more time in the godswood of late, seeking to clear her mind, looking for guidance and insight that did not come. it was amongst the trees where she felt most comfortable these days, but there was only so much that could do for her. and yet, still she came, searching for answers for questions she had not quite figured out how to ask.

oftentimes, when she visited, she would find herself here alone. today, that was not so. the figures of her elder brother and sister loomed before her, sharing a moment of tenderness. she was glad of that - her own reunion with cyrene had been a frosty one, and that was enough to both weigh on her conscience and have her hesitating, dithering between the trees as she pondered whether to interrupt, if her presence would be welcomed in the moment they shared. she was about to turn and return to the keep, leaving them to it, when the sound of her footsteps had adam turning, and she could no longer pretend she had never been there at all.

instead of turning, dacey drew a little closer, leather-gloved hands clasping together before her, coming to a stop a few meters away from them. near, but still apart, still retaining some distance. "sorry," her voice was sheepish when she spoke, the smile on her face a tentative one. "i didn't mean to intrude on you." she'd caught none of their conversation, but before she could speak, another of their kin made their presence known, and her tension relaxed a little. "we're all of a similar mind today, i think."

@owenstark

It was true, they had never been quite close. As children, Cyrene had chased the thrill while Adam had remained in his lonesome. She had run away from boredom, while Adam had welcomed the security of it.

The war had come, the fire had come, and Cyrene had grown into a woman. A woman who stood alone, walls of ice grown between those she had held close and those she had not. The dragons had danced and Adam had grown into a man. A good man. A protector.

With every letter she penned, with every one she received, every visit he payed her at the Twins, she'd felt a gnawing sort of guilt take hold in her chest. She had never been fair to him. It was just like time, allowing her to realize how wrong she had been about her very own brother.

Her fingers tightened around his. Warmth meeting warmth among familiar cold. "I told no one," she admitted, a glimmer of mischief dancing within her eyes. "Well, other than all those who traveled with me." Adam's eyes were searching hers, roving over her every expression, her demeanor. "And my husband." She made a point out of telling him. This had been agreed upon. Even if in her very depth, she despised having to gain permission for anything from anyone.

"In a way, I suppose, I am glad you did not answer my letter," she spoke, a slow smile spreading on her lips. "It would not have reached me in time. And gods know what you might have written in those letters. I can imagine Lord Frey being quite affronted."