TRUTH SERUM

a quick nod of dacey's head was the only acknowledgement given. it was not to say that she was ungrateful for maisie's friendship. it was quite the opposite. a friendly face was hard to come by, and harder still for one such as dacey. she was never one to be found at the centre of attention, she didn't seek glory or flattery or to fill her days with idle chatter and social events. reserved and quiet, finding someone like maisie, whose loyalty to the starks was not in question, was a rare and treasured thing. and yet, dacey held herself back, unable to say what was truly on her mind for fear of saying something entirely wrong.

the lady mormont's next words had dacey's hands stilling for another reason, another reminder of the men and women of the north who had been touched by loss and bloodshed. she could not think of any amongst them who had not felt its sting. from the neck to the wall, the north was united in grief, yet fractured in so many other ways. and just when it seemed it was over, more division raised its head. "of course," her tone was soft, filled with compassion for the losses maisie had endured. "it must have been a terrible transition for you." she could not imagine suddenly standing at the head of your house, when that was never a thing you were raised to be. "the wheel can be cruel."

a small smile crept across dacey's face, the revelation of maisie's childhood dreams an endearing one. they were not dreams she had ever harboured herself, a young, sickly girl hiding away in winterfell's towers. marriage then seemed such a distant, foreign thing, and in many ways that had not changed. she did not dream of love now, because she knew that as the sister of a king, her heart would always be secondary to his needs. "duty." the answer came without hesitation. if she was to be wed, it would be at owen's discretion. "perhaps there is a way you might have both." and she hoped that there was, that maisie would not have to give up on the hopes of girlhood.

"it is up to the gods to judge alicent hightower. i will not condemn her, but neither will i shed tears for her misfortune. i do worry what it may mean for the reach and new valyria." there was a storm brewing, and as much as this was not the concern of the north, she did not like it.

"I care about my King's happiness, but in this conversation, I want to assure you that I'll be by your side" Maisie Mormont answered on the tip of her tongue, a little too quietly for any of the girls in the west to hear, realizing the Princess's insecurity. Perhaps it was time for both of them to return to the North, to their home, where they wouldn't have to worry about the intonation of their breathing in public. Although Lady Mormont felt that things were more difficult for Dacey, perhaps it was a feeling that was on her mind with the princess herself. She would have liked to get closer to her, like a true friend, but she felt that her words were rather direct. A part of the brunette saw herself in her when she was younger. 

"My cousin went through a lot, there were losses that I felt too" Maisie's lips twitched, thinking about deaths had never been her strong suit. The woman didn't like to recall the image of a deceased person she loved, because one memory brought the other. Sarra, Rhydian, her father. And she couldn't give herself over to it completely, only pray to the gods to take their souls. "But the world around us doesn't stop, and that's sad, one day you're just a girl and the next, a Lady Regent" Her shoulders heaved with a small pinch on her cheek "We're always expected to keep pace with the wheel, no matter what the conditions" She ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to dispel any inappropriate feelings that arose and put a smile on her face, even if it was somewhat false. 

"I need to get married, the Mormonts need to stay in the North" he jokes, pulling a laugh from deep within his chest. "When I was younger, I always imagined myself getting married, it was my fun, you know? But now that it's become a responsibility... I just don't know, but what about you, Princess?" Maisie asks with genuine curiosity, "Marrying for love or out of duty?" She lets out a breath, even though she already knew the answer "She's going to pay for what she's done all her life, she's going to become a sick, crazy woman, I think it's a fair punishment for someone who was so arrogant to proclaim her son as king, the old gods take their toll" he whispers about the Hightower woman, only for Dacey Stark to hear. 

truth serum: do you see yourself as a valuable addition or a burden to your house?

it was a question that had kept dacey awake for nights beyond count. "i think i've perhaps always been more of a burden than a help to my family," she admitted. she wished that it were not so, but she was not foolish enough to think otherwise, for what did she have to offer house stark? there was nothing. no talents, no skills, not even the courage of her siblings to offer. "but i am trying very hard not to be."

i was an isolated child

last words of a shooting star - mitski / interlude - jeremy lipking / beast monster thing (love isn't love enough) - car seat headrest / untitled - franz wright / twilight: new moon (2009) / teen idle - marina and the diamonds / my year of rest and relaxation - ottessa moshfegh / morning sun - edward hopper / look who's inside again - bo burnham / a girl ago - lucie brock-broido

TRUTH SERUM

feel free to ask anything, in character or anonymously, and my character will be forced to answer truthfully.

dacey - devani - norbert - minthara - conall

dacey said nothing in response. always prone to overthinking, thin-skinned over a heavy heart, it was hard not to take cyrene's words and add them to the weight in her chest. everything her sister had said, dacey had taken as an insult against her, and that only made her withdraw into her shell. for months now, she had done her best to hold things together as much as she could, trying to fill multiple roles vacated by their absent kin. with cyrene here, things had shifted, and she no longer knew what her place was. it was yet another adjustment, and she had never done well in uncertainty.

silently, she followed cyrene away from the memories that had enveloped her, up upon the walls where her sister's daughter would be found. still, she hovered silently, inexplicably shy. it was ridiculous. she was the adult, wylla nothing but a small child, but she was a child dacey did not know. it was different with owen and adam's children. she had known them since they were born, but to wylla, she was a stranger.

eventually, she managed a small smile, though there was still a seriousness to her expression, there was warmth, too. "hello, wylla."

Sometimes being alive is all you have.

Cyrene's expression grew into something icy. Stony and hard. "I know." And that was all she would say for now, all she would lay bare of her soul in the frigid air, in front of someone her heart knew but her mind no longer did. She knew. It had been her existence for nearly six years now, even if her children had made it more tolerable. Had taken her from surviving to living for an entirely different purpose.

She was thankful, then, that Dacey readily took to her change of topic. Her head tipped and tilted, a vague gesture to the direction Cyrene had approached her sister from. "Come."

Wylla had been taken to walkway overlooking Winterfell's courtyard by one of Cyrene's ladies, a slight and uncomfortable looking one, bundled in furs to shield against the cold. Cyrene excused her with a quiet word, and the Lady was gone in a flash, likely to seek the warmth that had been leeched from her skin. Cyrene reached for her daughter to pick her up. "Say hello to your auntie, sweetling." As it always did, her voice turned soft and warm, almost uncharacteristically so. She supposed it was, in this place. It was not, with her children.

dacey inclined her head in a nod at baelon's words. the black targaryens of dragonstone were old friends to the starks. it was rare that she questioned the king in the north's judgement, but she was wary of the idea of inviting the realms to their home again, unsure who was truly a friend, and who was a foe. a ball to find a queen in the north was certain to draw the ambitious, those who sought to make a name for themselves in the history books, and all she could do was hope he chose wisely. "are you escorting princess aemma?" friends were few and far between for the quiet princess of the north, but she liked aemma targaryen enough that if she did not already consider her a friend, they were close to it.

she shook her head a little. "in truth, i think i'd like a moment of peace and quiet. if not the winter gardens, i would probably take myself to the godswood to find it. if you would not mind the company, i'd gladly accompany you." she tired quicker than usual these days, in her attempts to be visible, to do her duty to support her brother. "i am certain my brother will be glad that you've arrived." the wounds between owen and the king of new valyria ran deep, but that did not extend to the blacks.

Baelon had found solace and comfort in Dragonstone. The place reminded him of his family, the one he had lost during the war. Although, the trauma and the grief replaced every good and positive memory that he had of his childhood. He knew that completely isolating himself from the world would not be good for him, and the last thing he wanted was to lose his mind. There was still a lot to be done, he could not let himself fall into that darkness. It was during that time that Baelon would leave the castle more, go to the village under the dragonmount and speak with the common folk. Still, that was as far as he would go, Baelon would not leave the island of Dragonstone. That was until the invitation from the King in the North came and Baelon could not refuse an old friend.

"Of course, it was a long and tiring journey, but I'm glad it went well. And I'm happy to be here once again, see old friends." Baelon offered her a smile, knowing how uncomfortable it could be to see so many strangers coming into your home all at once. Baelon shrugged his shoulders. "I do not wish to bother you or pull you away from any errands that you might be running." He chuckled. "Although, I would love to see the winter gardens. I cannot wait to reunite with your brother once again."

dacey did her best to look put together, but she was by no means a fashionable person. what she called timeless, others would call boring, her outfit choices always perfectly fine, in a classic sort of way, but very safe. she was a creature of habit, and she very much stuck to what she knew.

it was why she was grateful for lucrezia, someone to bounce ideas off and tell her if she was too boring, or too out there, or not quite on theme. it was going to be an important night, and it was one of the rare times dacey was putting a concentrated effort into what she was going to wear.

"i honestly don't think so," she mused, looking up from the ipad she was using to scroll pinterest and see what outfits other had put together. none felt quite right for her, though many were lovely. "she might hint at it, but there's a pattern. whenever she puts an album out, she does two re-records the year after. so i think reputation will be next year, at the earliest. it would be too soon to announce it."

her mouth opened in a small 'o' shape, and she nodded her head. "oh, i love the august dress. it's so dreamy." she moved back to the search bar, typing in 'taylor swift august dress' and scrolling through the various colour options until she found one she thought would work with her complexion. "what colour were you thinking? we should all wear a different one, i think. just so we look a little different to one another."

who: @daceystvrk

there was serious business afoot within the hotel room of dacey stark; various sketches on a table, and a few ipads with different pinterest pictures and links being pulled up. the girls had a special night to plan for having obtained tickets for closing night in london; and it was agreed they would wear folklore inspired outfits.

"do you think she'll announce reputation? we've been wrong multiple times now. what is it, like four?" lucrezia asked, a glow of genuine excitement coming over her face as she peered over the pinterest screen, scrolling down almost mindlessly, trying to find something.

"the vault tracks will be so good too." she looked up at dacey, a third chair vacant for when feray would be able to join them. she checked her phone for any texts from their third missing member, wanting to ensure she did not ghost on feray. "are you thinking a dress? you'd look lovely in the august dress."

Patricia Smith, from Teahouse of the Almighty; “Building Nicole’s Mama”

[Text ID: “and she is an empty vessel waiting to be filled. / And she is waiting. / And she / is / waiting. / And she waits.”]

Genevieve Gaunt in Knightfall (s2) as Princess Isabella

more avatars right here

dacey was trying her best, but there were times when that just wasn't enough. it overwhelmed her, crowds and people and the feeling of being on display, and that was what had her slipping away from the feast inside. she knew casterly rock not at all, and so it was here, to the stables, where the direwolf she had brought with her from the north was being housed.

she had managed to calm herself down when she stepped from the stables, until the crunch of gravel and a voice she had not expected startled her. dacey visibly jumped, though she did not cry out, silent, even when caught unawares. it took a moment for her to recognise the man who had stepped from the shadows - axell royce was not somebody dacey knew well. her hands clasped before her, an attempt to ground herself and assuage the temporary panic she had felt, though the anxiety she had been attempting to rid herself of bubbled up again.

it was not just her general discomfort with people she did not know. whispers clung to axell royce like his own shadow. dacey was no gossip, but she could see how they had started. still, she was not one to let her apprehension show, nor to be rude. her face arranged itself into a tentative, abashed smile, and she brushed a stray piece of hay from her gown. "forgive me, my lord. you startled me."

he spoke with something like disdain about the festivities, and she let out a polite laugh, too reserved in her ways to outright disagree with him, even though that was not what drew her here at all. "it is the way of the west, i think, to ensure their grandeur is the first thing any of us notice." that much was true, a neutral statement somewhere between his own and the truth, that the opulence here overwhelmed her, that she found herself craving something quieter and more like home.

she would not say that out loud, though, even when the conversation took a turn for her to explain why she, a princess of the north, had wandered off alone. she was certain he would find her reasoning quite ridiculous. instead, she reluctantly let one hand slip from the others grip, gesturing the the stable box where her wolf lay. "i just wanted to check on rose. my direwolf," she explained, quickly. "they unsettle the other dogs, so it is better to keep them in the stables. only, i was worried she would be howling, and making a nuisance of herself." it was a lie. dacey's wolf was a quiet, gentle soul, much like the woman herself, but he need not know that.

"what of you, my lord? just looking for a moment of peace?"

closed starter for: @daceystvrk setting: flashback to the westerlands gathering before the north left early. axell's wife has been missing for a few months now and word has only just begun to be spread to the other kingdoms

the air near the stables smelled of sweet hay and horses, a sharp contrast to the perfume-soaked halls of casterly rock. the celebration roared on inside, but out here, it was quieter, save for the occasional distant echo of laughter and music filtering through the stone corridors. axell royce had never been a man for grand feasts and courtly pretense, not when there were more important matters to tend to. and tonight, his focus had shifted to one particular matter—princess dacey stark.

she was a rare sight outside of winterfell, and even rarer to find alone. meek, quiet, unassuming in his eyes. the kind of woman who did not draw attention to herself, who moved like a whisper rather than a storm. axell liked that. he had seen too many women with sharp tongues and wandering gazes, women who brought trouble.like his late wife. maybe it was time for a change. he did not want trouble. he wanted control. and a stark princess, tied to the great north, bound to him by name and duty—well, that was an opportunity worth taking.

he stepped forward, boots crunching lightly against the gravel, making his presence known. “princess.” his deep voice cut through the cool air, smooth but edged with something heavier. he inclined his head slightly, the closest thing to a proper greeting he would offer. “didn’t think i’d find a stark hiding out here among the horses. tired of all the pomp and spectacle inside?”

he leaned casually against the stable door, his imposingly large frame filling the space. his dark eyes studied her carefully, weighing her reaction. “can’t say i blame you. there’s little worth entertaining in a hall full of peacocks.” a pause, calculated. “though, i must admit, i didn’t expect to find you here alone.” he let the words hang, inviting her to speak, to give him something—anything—to work with.