May Sarton, Journal Of A Solitude

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."

cursed with "do you still like me?" "are you mad at me?" "did i do something wrong?" disorder

long had dacey been on friendly terms with anya, but as with most of the people she knew, there was a distance between the two, put there by dacey herself. long had she struggled with concepts like friends, even as she observed others making them so easily. her circle had always been small, and lonely. but the northern court had been shrunken by loss. it had pulled dacey from her self-imposed isolation, but what had it done to anya, when two of those losses had been people dacey knew she had held close? she could do nothing about that, except offer herself as a meagre replacement. trying to step into the shoes of the dead seemed to be all she did, these days.

and she nodded her head, for she understood what anya meant. she felt it, too. the feeling of not belonging was not uncommon for dacey, though lessened much when she was in the north. though the kingdom had been fractured and split, though many of the houses had bled for her family or against them, it was still her home. outside, the title of princess was just that - a title. the mystery of the princess alysanne attested to how little protection it afforded her. and yet, any anxieties must be felt two-fold by anya, and she could understand why that would be so.

"i don't think i will ever get past that feeling," she confessed. "of feeling out of sorts here, i mean. this place is not for me." there was a grandeur to the west directly at odds with dacey's simpler, more unassuming way of being, and she liked it not, as though in trying to be inconspicuous, it only made her stand out like a sore thumb amongst the splendour. a beggar at a ball. nasir manderly's warning echoed in her ears, and her expression grew weary. "is it an awful thing to say that i already want to go home?"

Anya knew deep down that she would never truly be a proper lady, for there was a part of the raven-haired lady that continued to keep a steadfast hold on who she'd been before. It felt a betrayal of sorts to forget her origins, to dismiss what had led her to be where she was at present. Yet, she certainly had been willing to adopt the right mannerisms and speak the proper words when it was needed, for she didn't dismiss her current role title either.

Both Lady Manal Manderly and Queen Rosalyn had been tutors of a sort for Anya in terms of becoming a Northern lady. It had been a horrible turn of fate that both young women perished at such young ages. Women that Anya had even grown to consider her friends. The last remaining person who had offered sporadic assistance on that account was the very person she'd found just now.

“Yes, I've just finished unpacking,” she replied with a quick nod and a brief smile. Was she alright? She'd skipped that question altogether. Anya was not not alright, though, but she did feel a bit of an anxious feeling nestled within her. It was unpleasant knowing she could be read so easily. “I am still getting accustomed, I suppose. Getting past the sense of feeling out of place here,” she added with a light wave of her hand, vaguely gesturing around. “The Western court is different from our own”. All courts were different in their own way, and Anya had been to all regions of Westeros at this point in her life, though not always as a titled woman. But there was a very distinct feeling about the Westerlands and the elevated majesty of it all.

dacey stark - a future au

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school years

whilst the stark family have a long history, dacey was always quietly determined to make her own way in life. she did not have many friends in school, keeping her head down and getting on with her studies.

a straight a student, she did not involve herself in clubs or extra curricular activities, but spent a lot of free time volunteering for charities.

despite having a very small social circle, she dated hugo vance for a while in school, parting in college as they grew apart.

adult life

dacey went to medical school, and ended up becoming a doctor - specifically, a paediatrician who works in a children's hospital on a ward for long-term patients.

she still keeps to herself, living in a country cottage with her golden retriever, lily.

before starting her job at the hospital, she spent some time travelling to provide medical care for underprivileged children. it was on her travels she met safeerah jordayne, and they dated for six months before parting ways on good terms.

currently, dacey is in a relationship with ulises tarth, after being introduced by her brother, adam.

"i had to try," she protested, though in jest. she shook her head. "i would not have taken your coin from you, though, mask or no." there was not an inch of dacey that was competitive in that manner, and aleks knew her well enough to know as much about her. A glance at his face told her that her assessment was correct, and her choice of game was up his alley. "Of course you're strong," a half-grin appeared on her face, and she folded her arms across her chest as she stood to watch. "I might have a turn next, so try your best. Wouldn't want me showing you up." The idea was laughable. If there was one thing Dacey was not capable of, it was feats of physical strength.

His eyes narrowed behind the mask, and a chortle passed over his lips. "I know what you're doin' there, princess." Aleksander patted her hand as Dacey's arm looped through his. "I doubt you are in need of my coin, though." They strolled through the festival games, looking at them with unbridled curiosity. His lips parted, formed a silent o as she pointed to a game that tested strength. A lopsided grin built on his lips. "I'm flattered you think of me as strong, Dacey. Perhaps it's time to prove you right." He disentangled their arms and walked towards the built game, positioning himself so he could wrap his fingers around the crank.

dacey nodded her head, though she said little in response. there was an anxiety gnawing in her at the notion that adam and glorie were soon to leave, one that she always felt when her siblings left the halls of winterfell, but one that had become more pronounced of late, since jon and cassana and the two missing princesses. even if it was the dreadfort, even if it was glorie's home, the knot of fear still took root. she wondered if she would ever truly be rid of it.

but when her eyes turned to glorie, it was not fear of the unknown, but concern for her good-sister that knitted itself into her expression. "i understand," it was commendable, glorie's commitment to her duty, even when it was clear that what she needed was a good sleep rather than extra candles and something warm to drink. "but i would not see you neglect yourself, if i can help it. a loose end is more easily grasp with rested hands and a clear mind."

caring for those close to her came as naturally as breathing to dacey, but being cared for in return was a little harder to grasp. it was not that she didn't feel as though her family loved her - that was not in doubt, but neither did she like the feeling of burdening them with her own concerns. they were for dacey to carry, and dacey alone. and yet, when glorie stretched out her hand, dacey took it, her red-raw fingers curling around glorie's aching ones. and with that, her lips loosened, and her worries poured out. "two of my sisters never came home from king's landing. the queen is dead. and i fear that will not be the last difficulties my family might face." she looked away from glorie then, her eyes settling on the window, though outside was veiled by the pitch black of night. "i fear for my brothers, but especially for owen. and for you and cassana. for the north. i even fear for the karstarks and the manderlys." perhaps it was unfair to rest all of this at glorie's door, but once the words were out, it was too late to return them.

retort earns a genuine chuckle from the brunette. she mutters a quick, 'good thinking' towards her sister-in-law, but in truth, she needn't bring a thing but herself. the company is coveted above anything else she provided. this time of year has her homesick and she missed the blooms of strange flora that her people had managed to keep growing strong each year since they settled there. thinking about it between scribbled reports did little good for her mental state, so having dacey to chat with seems a good way to quell the burning desire to load up a carriage at that very moment.

"unfortunately, dear sister, this will likely be where i sleep for the night. i've a lot to settle before your brother and i depart for the dreadfort. i wish to leave as little loose ends tied as possible." there's a certain exhaustion tainting each word. shes still finding balance between each duty that falls under her belt, and its more difficult when she feels the heaviness that weighs in her eyes. "but you've given me all i need to survive the night, and for that i'm thankful."

it didnt take the sharpest mind to interpret the body language of the princess before she has the chance to answer. the shift in demeanor is akin to the change shes seen in her sweet husband, though his is much more physically visible to glorie. "that is where you're wrong," doesnt mean for it to come out as stern as it does so she softens her tone when she continues, "not that i wish to see you grieve, but i do hope you know that i am here. i've lost plenty, and the starks pain will be my own until my last breath. we are family, and i am very sorry for any chance i've missed to provide comfort." her own sore hand extends, as if asking permission to take that of her newest kin; a show of familial solidarity that she thought passed with her own bloodsister. "if you've anything to get off of your chest, you have my word that it stays within these walls."

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's gaze lingered on wylla, her niece's small face full of curiosity and unspoke questions dacey was half-hoping she would not ask. the ache in her chest was an unfamiliar feeling, equal parts yearning and hesitation. cyrene's words were gentle, in contrast to what had felt like a reprimand before, but gentle words had done little to ease the knot of insecurity tightening within her. braved than she seems. braver than she'll let you believe. green eyes drifted over cyrene for a moment, trying to deduce if the words were supposed to be comfort, challenge, or mockery, and unsure she would find a definite answer to that.

it was almost second nature, the way her hands clasped before her, so much so that she did not realise she was using her nail to scratch at the rough skin around her other thumb, the outward manifestation of her lingering doubts. the voice in the back of her head was telling her that wylla would not like her, that she did not know how to bridge the gap between aunt and stranger, and it would be an embarrassment to try. the thought had been gnawing at dacey since she'd first heard of cyrene's arrival, and now faced with the girl herself, she felt utterly unprepared for any of this.

cyrene's patience was, too, something dacey hadn't prepared for. it were further proof that the woman who returned was not the girl she remembered. cyrene wasn't pushing, wasn't teasing, wasn't testing dacey's limits. there was no sharp edge that she had anticipated.

finally, dacey crouched to meet wylla's gaze at her own level, skirts gathering in the snow that covered the walls. her movements were slow, as though afraid to scare her off, but the small, hesitant smile on her face remained, her voice soft when she spoke. "it is nice to meet you after all these years, wylla." she wondered if her northern accent sounded strange to a child accustomed to the riverlands, who would have only heard such tones from her mother on a regular basis.

her eyes flicked back to cyrene briefly, as though looking for approval, or permission, and when she turned her attention back to wylla, she released her hand from her own grip and extended it, palm up, leaving it in the space between herself and wylla for the little girl to decide what to do with. "i think you must be a wonderful explorer," her voice was a little firmer now, as though she were trying to find something to latch on to. "it is not everyone who can find their way out to the walls. it's so high." a pause, and dacey swallowed.

"i've spent some time exploring winterfell myself. learning it's secrets." her voice lowered, as though she was sharing one of those hidden secrets now. "if you'd like, i can show you all my favourite places. the ones nobody else knows of."

Cyrene watched Dacey with a careful eye, noting the quiet that had always defined her younger sister. It was the same quiet that had once driven Cyrene to provoke her, to tease and cajole in the hopes of coaxing something louder from the girl who seemed to carry the weight of the world in her stillness. She had always wanted Dacey to roar, to be the wolf Cyrene believed she could be, rather than the shadow of one.

But time had worn that impulse down. Dacey’s silence wasn’t weakness; it was something harder to define, something solid and unyielding. It was courage, though Dacey would never claim it.

Cyrene glanced down at Wylla, her small hand still clinging to her mother’s fingers. She felt the weight of her daughter’s curiosity as Wylla’s wide eyes flickered to her aunt. And still, Dacey said nothing.

“She’s braver than she seems,” Cyrene said softly, her words meant for both her daughter and her sister. The irony of it struck her. She had spent so long wishing Dacey would break her silence, only to now realize how much strength it carried.

She crouched, steadying Wylla as the girl peered up at her aunt with quiet fascination. “This is your Aunt Dacey,” Cyrene said, a smile tugging faintly at her lips. "She’s braver than she’ll let you believe, I'm afraid.”

Her gaze flicked to Dacey then, searching, hoping. She didn’t tease this time. Didn’t push. Cyrene had learned to leave some silences unbroken.

dacey did not consider herself an intelligent woman. she was not particularly learned, nor did she possess a vast amount of political acumen, but what she did have was the ability to see beyond what was said, and find meaning in what was not. even if the tears had not quite yet dried upon her cheeks, she thought that she might have recognised it in the woman before her.

there was a specific look that painted itself on the faces of those who were trying to hold themselves together, clinging to frayed edges in the hope that they would not unravel. she had seen it in her own reflection - the look in the eyes that betrayed thoughts that were elsewhere, the way her voice took on a certain tone, like a song in a wine glass, despite her assurances that all was well. something stirred within her, a quiet urgency to offer whatever comfort she could, but it would be an intrusion to press the matter further. and so, instead of lingering in the unsaid, dacey focused her attention on what was. "i know what you mean," her voice was soft, audible over the din of king's landing to naelys only. "sometimes, when i'm in a crowded place, it's like the walls are pressing in." a flicker of a smile crossed her face then, a private moment of understanding. it would seem such a silly thing to someone who had not experienced it themselves - but dacey had. she knew all too well how suffocating it could be.

"oh," her gaze turned to the door of the step, as though she were looking upon a foreign beast, uncertain whether or not it would snap at her or leave her be. "no, mine are the old gods." it was not that she had quarrel with those who followed the faith of the seven, the divisions that had drawn lines in the northern court more a source of anxiety than something she wished to involve herself in, but it all seemed so unfamiliar to her. even standing here made her feel out of place. "i wanted to visit the godswood, but i'm afraid my attendant misunderstood, and i haven't got the heart to tell them otherwise." her smile turned rueful, hands clasping together in front of her skirts as one thumb scratched at the other. "i know it sounds ridiculous, but i thought i would just... wait for him to come back."

her cheeks burned, embarrassment for admitting her own ineptitude, and a touch of guilt. the woman had sought solace, and dacey was intruding on it. and yet, there was something that dacey could not put her finger on keeping her tied to the conversation, as though they knew one another, and were not strangers, standing on the steps of the sept.

"have you been away for long?" her query was gentle. "it must be difficult to expect to return to something familiar, and find that it isn't." dacey had only ever really known winterfell, excursions away from the place she had made her sanctuary few and far between, but with jon's death, even the ancient walls of her home felt different.

"i'm just visiting - my family and i - for the coronation. from the north. from winterfell."

¿

naelys' breath hitched as she exited the sept, her mind a swirling tempest of grief and confusion. the familiar sting of tears blurred her vision as she almost collided with the woman standing just outside. she hardly registered the words spoken to her, her mind too engrossed in the most hazy of memories and the overwhelming presence of king’s landing—a city that no longer felt like home. had it ever?

she still remembered the day those mighty doors swung open, and they had entered - the day rhaenyra had married.

hues of amethyst, still hazy with pools that appeared as still as a deceptively deep lake, finally focused on the concerned face before her. there was something oddly comforting about the woman’s sheepish yet empathetic expression. "oh, no, thank you. i'm... i'll be all right," naelys managed to say, her voice fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering. she wiped her eyes, though the action felt futile; for they would stain her cheeks red, and each stain felt like a hiss upon her skin.

the woman’s kindness tugged at something deep within naelys, a part of her that longed for connection amidst the overwhelming solitude of her grief. something akin to her words reminded her of the way her mother would look upon her, would try to check on her and encourage. it reminded her of what she no longer had, what her older sister would never be able to provide. “i appreciate your concern, truly,” she continued, a bit more steady now. “i was just...there were many people in that room."

naelys took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. her gaze lingered on the woman’s face, sensing an understanding there. she felt like a warm beacon, like some sort of candle; she could not help but naturally turn toward her, like a sunflower turns to the rays of the sun. “may i ask... what brings you to the sept? you don’t seem...,” she hesitated, trying to find the right words, “you don’t seem entirely at ease here. have you been standing all these hours?” she sniffed slightly, no doubt appearing pathetic.

she took a step back, giving herself and the woman a bit more space, and so she took to fiddling with the silver lace on her corset. “i’ve just returned to king’s landing and...this city is very different." naelys felt a strange mix of awkwardness and comfort in the presence of this stranger. there was an unspoken bond, a shared sense of displacement that made her feel a little less alone. “and you? are you new to the city as well?” she asked, genuinely curious about the woman who had unknowingly offered her a brief reprieve from her inner turmoil.

perhaps, in this moment of shared vulnerability, they could both find some solace. even if only for a fleeting moment.

In the last few months, who has surprised you positively and who has surprised you negatively?

"my cousin, lucius rivers has surprised me positively. we were never close, but i enjoyed speaking with him in a way that i did not expect." the last few months had felt like such a never-ending wave of disaster that she cherished the moments in between where she could simply have a conversation and feel normal. "negatively, it would be my own sister. the princess alysanne." she had remained tight-lipped on what she had discovered about what alysanne had done, but her silence did not mean she condoned it.