Tarot Card Pull

from almost the moment she was born, dacey had been a little frailer than most. as a child, she had been struck will all sort of maladies that had kept her close to home, and even now she was a woman grown, the caution that had kept her tethered to winterfell was so ingrained in her that she simply knew little else. the north was all she knew, but even then, she knew very little of it. that was simply the way of things, a fact of her life she did not challenge or question.

there were perks to the way she lived. whilst she was a constant in winterfell, she had seen her siblings come and go, blossoming into adults all the while. sometimes, those absences were shorter, but three of their number had ridden south, and not returned for so many years that it was hard to recognise the children they once were in the people they had become. dacey could not imagine being so far from your home, your family, but there was a special ache in her heart when she thought about saoirse, for she had been completely alone. dacey had tried to maintain a bond with letters and gifts over the years, and had been overjoyed upon her return, but that did not mean they understood each other. they had missed so much of each other's lives, and that kind of distance would never be easy to overcome.

"you found me easily enough," dacey pointed out, half-smile crossing her lips. "seems i'm doing a poor job of hiding, being in the first place anybody would think to look for me." there was a sort of self-deprecation to her tone, an invitation for saoirse to laugh at her, too. "i'm not hiding, sweetling. i'm just more accustomed to my own company than i have a right to be, i think. i'm glad you're here, though." she should have sought her sooner, but as with so many things, dacey was unsure. after so much time away, it was impossible to say if saoirse would welcome the company of a sister.

who: @daceystvrk where: in winterfell, saoirse goes to visit her sister in her room since she has not seen her all morning.

the presence of the north was always dreary to many commonfolk, but not for the princess. she found that the snowy trails while frozen, very warm, and being back home was something the flame-haired woman longed for the whole duration of her stay in the south. too far away from her siblings, from what she was used to; it was a difficult change during those times to wear her hair as a southern woman, her clothing inappropriate for the warmth. saoirse always felt something missing until she arrived into those wintry gates some fortnights ago and suddenly, the clarity of being back in a space where everything made sense. a comfort.

one of many familiar faces that saoirse was drawn to see was that of her sister, dacey. despite their age difference, the princess felt protective over her as an older sister would; her sister was delicate, to say the least, and saoirse hoped at least that part stayed the same. with years between them, it was difficult to say she knew her siblings' individuality like she used to which meant getting to know them almost all over again. saoirse dreaded that but she understood it must be done; much had changed between herself and who she was now, once a kind soul now hardened and unemotional.

a soft rap of a knock echoed in the halls of winterfell as saoirse announced her presence to dacey before entering into her room. saoirse's usual blue hues made of steel softened at the sight of her sister and a tender, loving gaze settled across her features. something she was unfamiliar to these days, but her siblings managed to pull her out of that state. "dacey," saoirse spoke gently as she entered, "why are you hiding in your room?"

HOUSE STARK OF WINTERFELL

@owenstark, @daceystvrk, @cassvstark, @devotionturns

the idea that owen and the targaryen king would make nice with one enough was enough to bring a small laugh to dacey's lips. "i very much doubt it, but i suppose stranger things have happened." she didn't like to speak for her brother, and more often than not had little insight to offer, but on this, at least, she felt confident. "i don't really know the whys of it all. why we went there," she confessed. "if i had to guess, i would say it was probably more about who else would be there than the man of the hour."

she nodded, his amplifying her respect for him. "such is the lot of an older sibling." she had enough siblings herself that she understood how it worked, being both an older sister and a younger one herself. "they're lucky to have you." it was not an empty compliment. as much as she would not bring it up, there was no escaping the fact his cousin was a bastard, and life would not be as kind to him as to his siblings for that simple fact. and yet, a bond still seemed to exist between lucius and his kin, and that was something she found commendable.

"you're not the worst company i've ever had." she shrugged. she'd no doubt that he was capable of rubbing people up the wrong way, but she'd yet to be offended. she didn't even really feel all that self-conscious, which was a feat within itself. "i'm rather enjoying it, actually. if you wish to make things unpleasant, you might have to try a little harder than you initially planned." there was an honesty to the way he spoke that she appreciated. there had been little of that in king's landing, and she had grown weary of trying to decipher the difference between what people said and what they meant.

Lucius knew that perhaps he ought to say something about the losses endured by House Stark. Say something for the sibling that was recently buried, or the sister that had gone missing. He didn't truly feel sorry, however. He had no ill will, he simply had never gotten to know Jon or Alysanne at all. They had been strangers to him. So he didn't utter any condolences for they would have been superficial, insincere words. Even Dacey, who was just getting to know him, would have detected the lack of truth.

“Your brother is seeking to make good with the dragon king?” he inquired, curious to know what was the North's vision of the recent crowning. The realms were no longer Seven Kingdoms under Targaryen rule and had not been for years, and yet they all dragged themselves to the old capital to kiss ass and play nice with the dragon folk. “I admit I had little desire to travel there myself, but where my siblings go, I go. Someone needs to keep an eye on them”. Especially in a place where he trusted no one.

Lucius glanced sideways, looking at Dacey briefly as they walked. “Fret not, I'll be quicker than you in making my company unpleasant,” he half-joked in return, certain that she'd be the one escaping his company eventually, not the other way around, since the Stark princess was evidently a sweet person. The bastard knew he wasn't a likable man and never really bothered to make himself so. Polishing his manners in that way had never been something his father cared about. Samwell never sought to make a proper lord out of him, after all.

Nikos Engonopoulos, from Bolívar, a Greek Poem

the offer of tea should not have come as a surprise to dacey. for as long as she had known lillith, she had known her to brew her tinctures. and yet, something in it caught dacey off guard, anyway. she couldn't quite put her finger on the reason for it, why the offer, given so simply, set her ill at ease, but she tried not to dwell on it.

instead, she gave a small nod of her head, glancing towards lillith, then the fire, and then back again. "that sounds lovely," she said, and she meant it. tea did sound lovely. she was being ridiculous, as usual. "i've never been one for the strong stuff. tea will be enough, thank you."

her gaze returned to the hearth, watching the flames flicker. she was always one more comfortable in the quiet, something lillith knew well, but there were times when it felt awkward to dacey, as though she should be offering words, but she just couldn't reach them. it took an enormous amount of effort to bring herself to speak, though when she did manage it, there was relief in hearing her own voice sound even and steady.

"i imagine it tastes of the woods, your blend. birch and honey." there was a thoughtfulness to her voice, inviting lillith to fill the spaces between it. "of ironoaks?" she looked to her then for confirmation. "it would be nice to share something from your home."

even when dacey had briefly found herself in the vale in the past, she had never seen ironoaks, though its name alone conjured a picture - tall trees, straight and strong, standing guard upon the mountain. would the vision in her mind compare to the real thing? or was she entirely wrong? "i hope when i visit, i don't bring enough of the snow to be cruel. just enough to make everything quiet for a little while."

lillith gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment, the corners of her mouth twitching in something like amusement—small, fleeting, but there all the same.

“if you did, i suppose it would serve the vale right,” she mused, mismatched eyes flickering toward the hearth as if measuring its warmth. “perhaps then they’d stop pretending the mountain winds are anything but frigid.”

she was silent for a moment, letting the fire crackle between them, the weight of dacey’s words settling in the space they occupied. the north is as much a part of me as the marrow in my bones. a sentiment she understood, though her own bonds had been forged differently. she had never felt trapped in ironoaks, precisely, but there was an expectation to remain, to endure. it was not always an unwelcome thing. but there was something about the way dacey spoke that made her wonder if the cold in her bones was comforting, or suffocating.

without much preamble, she said, “i could make you some tea.”

it was not quite a question, nor was it particularly warm, but there was a quiet sincerity in the offer. lillith was not one to fuss, not one to coddle, but she knew the value of small comforts. and, if nothing else, she had a fair hand at brewing something strong enough to warm through the bones.

“i brought a blend with me from ironoaks,” she continued, shifting slightly as if already preparing to follow through. “black tea, with birch and a bit of honey. it’s good for the cold. unless you’d rather something stronger?” a wry note entered her voice, though her expression remained unreadable.

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."

the grip on her hand was grounding, reassuring and rare. the comfort of physical touch was a rarity for dacey, who had spent too long walling herself in, isolating herself from the world, making such acts of affection difficult to come by. in the end, it was all for nothing. it hadn't stopped grief reaching her, hadn't stopped her heart feeling heavy. she gripped seffora's hands, sore fingers curling tightly around those of her friend.

"unfair," it was the first time someone had offered her a word to explain what it was that was weighing her down. silently, she nodded her head. "yes. it does." and though she agreed with the sentiment, with the feeling that a great injustice had been done, trying to pinpoint what that injustice was had her furrowing her brow. there was a great heartlessness in wondering if the unfairness came from jon dying, and not alysanne, before she could have made a choice that was now dacey's to clean up the wreckage of. there was a great selfishness in believing that it was their fates that were the unfairness, that the death and vanishing and the fact dacey was forced to endure.

her throat cleared, ridding it of its tightness. dacey would not weep, not when others could see her do so. she did not think any had ever seen her cry, her tears reserved for when she found herself alone. as much as seffora was her friend, and she trusted her, felt more at ease here than she had done in so long, she would not break the habits of a lifetime now. "thank you," and she meant it, her appreciation shown in the slight squeeze of seffora's hand. "but i don't think there is anything that can be done, apart from finding a way to... keep going forward, i suppose." that was something seffora had done, and done well, but whilst there were similarities in their tragedies, seffora had something to focus on. longtable, and it's people. for dacey, there was no such distraction.

a glimmer of a smile crossed her face, and then, dacey let out a laugh, the very idea of smiling after the turn their conversation had taken something that was funny to her in the strangest of ways. "i'm inclined to disagree." a wise woman would have done things very differently to dacey, would know how to navigate the mess she could not seem to unravel. "though it is gratifying to know that i have you fooled." a poor jest, but perhaps that was what was needed to clear the heaviness that had enveloped them

It was instinctive for Seffora to reach out and hold Dacey's hand. There were no words that ease the feelings that came with losing a sibling, that she knew from her own experience. The princess had buried a brother in the Winterfell crypt and knew nothing of the whereabouts of one of her sisters. There really was nothing the Merryweather lady could say in such a situation, and so she only offered comfort and company in the best way she knew how: in a small gesture to show Dacey that she was not alone.

The Lady of Longtable listened in silence as the Northern princess spoke. Her friend was quiet and reserved in nature, so she deeply understood the weight of her opening up to her. Seffora held her hand a bit tighter. She wasn't sure if she should prompt the princess to speak more on the subject. Sometimes it was best to let the other person share what they felt ready to share. “It feels unfair, doesn't it?” she ended up saying, however. It was unfair to lose a loved one. It was unfair to have a sibling stir up trouble and bring forth heartache. She thought about it because it was eerie and heartbreaking how similar their circumstances were to some degree. Both of them lost a sibling who was taken before their time, as happened with Sofina and Jon. Both of them had a sibling bring unnecessary strife and conflicting emotions to them, as happened with Sienna and Alysanne.

“I know there is little I can do in a situation like this,” she began. Seffora had just thought about it mere moments ago, how being there and offering some comfort might be the only thing someone like her had to offer. But still, she felt compelled to continue. “But I don't want it to go unsaid. If there is anything I can do —anything at all, for you and your family, you need only ask, Dacey”. And for her friend, Seffora would give it.

Again, Seffora's hold of the princess' hand tightened ever so slightly. “You have so much wisdom in you, you know?” she mused with a soft smile on her lips. Dacey was without a doubt one of the most insightful and wise people she'd encountered and for that, the lady felt fortunate. You should acknowledge the people who helped you, so long as it does not get in the way of acknowledging your own hard work. It was certainly the sort of mantra to remember for the future.

Genevieve Gaunt in Knightfall (s2) as Princess Isabella

more avatars right here

dacey held no ill will towards amir manderly. he, and his entire house, was trusted by owen, and that was good enough for her to trust them too, even if there was no personal ties to them. that was more her own fault than anybody else's. not for the first time in her life, she felt a pang of regret for the years she had spent shuttering herself away from the world.

but despite the fact that owen trusted him, despite the fact that she was, genuinely, pleased to see him safely returned home, despite the fact that not a single part of her felt any sort of negative feelings towards amir manderly, dacey felt herself tensing at his words, felt her fingernails begin to scrape at the freshly healed skin around her thumbs, and felt a flash of displeasure shoot through her that she didn't entirely know what to do with.

"contemplating?" she repeated, dully. "but likely to come to pass. am i correct?" if it did happen, it wouldn't be amir's fault. she had asked him a question, and he had answered it true. she could not place the blame at his feet for giving her an answer she had sought. and yet, to dacey's shame, this was something she had to remind herself of.

"it is not my safety that i'm concerned about." she was certain that amir meant the words kindly, but she felt herself bristle at them all the same, just a little. did he think her the type of woman who cared only for her own skin? "if there is to be war, then my brothers will fight in it. my sister, too, probably." her mind went to cassana, and the thought of it made her feel queasy. "i've no wish to see another stark go to the grave before their time." it was not just the starks. the north had seen far too much death and bloodshed. she was not ready to prepare herself for more.

❅

historically, amir of house manderly had maintained a healthy distance with the ladies of winterfell; which had come into greater use when they became princesses of the north. there was nothing questionable that they would have heard about him, nothing that was not written in those foolish pamphlets; meaning the king trusted him to speak with the princesses. he still did not maintain a closeness with them however, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised he never had.

"your highness." amir greeted, lowering his head before straightening back to his full height.

it only fed further into the thoughts that swirled in his mind, the thoughts of being the other in the north, the thoughts of not belonging and that they would always be this way. the ones to blamed, for their obvious power and wealth. he found himself wondering what this princess wanted. he did not want to hear talk of more grief, he did not want to talk about manal, or anything else; he did not want to talk about the grief that lingered over both of their houses.

because amir thought owen stark was in the right. because, when people were comfortable, they refused to change. to become better. the callouses on his hands were a sign of his own work ethic: his willingness to make himself uncomfortable. people did not do that unless you forced change upon them. his opinion was very much the minority in the realm though. "his grace remains contemplating, but it will not be as you think."

two sides meeting on a battle field. skagos was officially belonging to the north anyway; it was just about bringing them to heel. he did not want to go back there, but he would. he would rain down fury on all those who made him feel this way. like he did not belong - because he did not. "it will be on their front, rather than our own. you should be safe, princess."

@asoiafsnet ‘s stark appreciation week

“the winters are hard, but the starks will endure. we always have.”