Rainer Maria Rilke, From A Letter Featured In Letters To Merline, 1919-1922

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

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

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

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

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

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

dacey nodded in understanding, in agreement with feray's assessment of king's lading. she hadn't much enjoyed it there, either, save for a few moments in between that had painted a genuine smile on her lips. "i was certainly glad to be home," the words were out before she could really think about them, for as much as she had been looking forward to leaving the city, to coming back to winterfell, so much had changed that she wasn't really sure she was all that glad at all.

house stark was not the only northerners to have suffered during the war, a fact dacey was all too keenly aware of. it had took from them all, leaving all with scars that couldn't, wouldn't, heal, and dacey did not think many had lost quite so much as feray locke. and yet she stood here still. offering condolences for yet another tragedy. death had followed them for far too long. it was inevitable that today, it would once again make its presence known, an uninvited straggler they couldn't ignore. the late queen's absence was heavily felt - as was the loss of the eldest princess of the north.

"thank you," she murmured, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. she was grateful for the sentiment, but it did not feel like her condolences to receive. "it is her children's grief i think of. theirs, and my brother's."

it was a dreadful thing, to see children lose their mother, made all the more bittersweet that she had for the smallest babe she had brought into the world. "it is a strange thing," she admitted. "i can only hope the sadness does not follow her much longer into her life." it was a terrible burden for a child, for their whole existence to be tied to death from the moment they entered the world. "i don't know which is worse," she was largely thinking out loud, her words unfiltered in the presence of one she trusted. "to die without ever having the chance to know who your child will become, or to be the child left behind."

despite their familarity, she dipped into a curtsy as dacey entered the room. "of course not, princess." feray had called the woman 'her highness' in the past, but as they had grown closer through the years then it seemed too formal. yet it still felt wrong to just outright call her dacey, so the lady of house locke usually eased herself into it by first acknowledging her title. "your visits are always welcomed." it was mostly true. feray did truly enjoy seeing her friends. they were a balm to the wounds life had inflicted on her in the past year. but it was also difficult to put on a mask and pretend all was well. she was healing but only slowly. and the starks had a tendency to remind her of the war. but her heart was lighter today so she did not have to fake the smile on her lips. "it was good to see old friends again but there was too much brutality in king's landing. the valyrian way of life would not suit me." she had not seen them fight but she had prayed for the gladiators. it seemed an unusual cruelty to make them fight in front of a crowd. she had heard of some of the injuries inflicted, how some of them resulted in death.

but she was acutely aware that she was not the only one of them who had experienced loss and uncertainty. "i was sorry to hear of your family's loss, dacey." she really had been. feray was not close to the royal family. house locke had always allied themselves with house manderly, so while they still answered to house stark then the royal house seemed even farther removed from them. but queen rosalyn had been known for her kind and gentle nature, the loss of such a soul was a heavy one. "her grace will be missed by the north but our grief pales to that of yours." she thought of the children that would grow up without their mother, of the king that was no longer a husband. "it must be difficult to come to grips with death and a new life at the same time." it was the cost many women paid for new life, the cost she had been warned that she would likely pay one day. she always felt a cold shiver down her spine when she heard of women dying in childbirth. it always ended up feeling like a warning of what was to come.

anya spoke of pride, of the strength of standing alone. dacey was no stranger to self-imposed isolation, in shouldering her worries alone, but that was where the similarity stopped. her own reasons were quieter, less fierce. she bore things alone not because she believed it made her stronger, but because she feared the weight of her burdens on those she might share them with. there was no sense of northern honour, no streak of independence that she might take comfort in. it was simply easier to swallow the heaviness in silence rather than risk becoming another stone around someone else's neck. were anya chose to hold it like a shield of defiance, dacey's solitude was a habit she had worn for so long it was second nature.

and still now, dacey did not share what was on her mind, instead choosing to continue to speak of anya with a soft smile on her face. "i've often found that to be the case. people can be cruel, i won't deny that, but your own mind is often crueller." others could light the flame, but it was insecurity that often fanned it to an inferno. away from the comforts of home, those feelings were amplied tenfold. "we forget that we see every flaw in ourselves too easily. we can't ignore the cracks that exist within us, and so we expect others to see them just as clearly." her gaze softened when she looked at anya, understanding the weight of admitting such thoughts aloud. "the north was never supposed to be endured alone, i think. we have always been strongest when we stand together. my company is yours to take whenever you have need of it."

and yet as she spoke of unity, it did not escape dacey's thoughts that the north was a court that was growing more and more divided. it felt like she was standing on a frozen river, watching hairline fractures appear in the ice beneath her feet but powerless to move before they cracked below her. the true north cast a growing shadow, but it was another discomfort she held close to her chest, not daring to voice aloud. especially not here, where the image of seeming steadfast mattered so much more.

"embarrass us?" a small frown appeared on dacey's face, and she shook her head. "oh, no, no. i don't think that has been on... well, anybody's mind." but as she thought about the other women, the way it seemed to come so naturally to them what even dacey wore uncomfortably, she could not deny that she couldn't see the root of anya's worries. "the king, my family, we all know who you are, anya. if we had fear of that, i am sure owen would have had no qualms about asking you to remain at winterfell." her teeth came down to chew at her lip, considering what she was about to say next. "but i understand it. the fear of it, i mean. if there is anything i can do to help you, i will." she had never been one to allow someone to face the world alone. she would not start now.

Anya listened intently, letting Dacey's words settle over her. They carried a quiet wisdom that reminded her of why she admired the Stark princess so. Though the paths they walked were different, there was a shared understanding between them, a recognition of the burdens that came with forging their places in the world. Dacey’s observation struck a chord. People never really see you how you see yourself. It was a truth Anya had long grappled with, given her origins, given how she had grown up. The raven-haired woman thought that sometimes she saw more worth in herself than others did, and sometimes it was the other way around. It was a strange sort of cycle in which she moved.

“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed with a nod, a faint smile touching her lips. “Perhaps it’s for the best, in some ways. We can be harder on ourselves than anyone else could ever be”. Perhaps the worst kind of thoughts about her, were the ones she'd conjured herself. Anya’s dark eyes searched Dacey’s face, noticing the princess’s quiet strength, the subtle resilience in her words. And then there was an offer in the princess' words, something that felt like she was extending friendship. “For so long I thought there was pride, there was strength, in standing alone,” Anya admitted. “But I don't always want to be strong... I don't always wish to stand alone”. It felt like both immense weakness and great strength to confess such a thing. “I’m grateful for your company, for your understanding. It’s… rarer than I’d like to admit”.

The judgment could come from the West or from any other place, Anya knew. The princess was right once more, in saying that there could always be something to judge. The Yuan lady knew it was impossible to bend and shape herself in every way that would please others. She'd not done it a day in her life, and it was maddening that as a lady, she was no considering such outside opinions. She shrugged then, the gesture half-defiant, half-resigned. “Well, let them think what they will, I suppose,” she murmured.

“I do still have to learn how to be a better lady, though,” she added with a little chuckle despite herself. “I would hate to embarrass the king and your family because I've not been raised like others have”. Anya's tone was less doubtful, however, more light-hearted in the knowledge that there was still more for her to learn, and having the humility to admit it.

the conversation was taking so many turns, from something resembling civility to something entirely different, that only accentuated to dacey that nasir manderly did not like her. and he did not need to like her. dacey had long since accepted that there would always be people who would not, and most of the time, she had made her peace with that, even if she did not particularly enjoy it.

so why was it, then, that talking to nasir had her on high alert, anxiety coursing through her veins? why was it that she felt so small and useless, as though her every word was the wrong one. it made her want to withdraw from the life she had begun to take up, one of greater visibility and more responsibility. it made her question if that was necessary at all, or if she would be better retreating to the towers of winterfell, and forever closing the doors.

not to you, was the thought that immediately came to mind, but she did not voice that. she could feel her cheeks warming, both embarrassment and trepidation accompanying her unease. "i said around it goes," and the revelation seemed almost anticlimactic, as though it would disappoint him to hear that it was no utterance of great wisdom. "more to myself than to you, my lord. my apologies."

they had not yet left for the west, but already, dacey found herself wishing the trip was over. the northern court could not be absent, no matter how little she wished to go, and she could only hope that the trip would be uneventful, that they could show their faces, enjoy what king tyland lannister's hospitalities, and return home without coming to any trouble or concern.

"leave it with me," she assured him. if nothing else, it was something she could do. "and if there is anything else you need of me, please do let me know."

✯

he was all too aware of the fact there was a quietness that settled between them, and whilst nasir usually could appreciate moments of silence and stretches of quiet, whenever it settled in the space between them he found himself wondering if he had somehow misstepped. whether his words had been too direct and forward, and had resulted in him somehow offending her.

she had always been the quietest of her siblings, seemingly softer than the rest of them - he was sure she had muttered something under her breath, and he had not heard it. if he were not overthinking, he would simply have ignored it - and yet, nasir did not want her to think he was ignoring her to her very face. why could she not just speak louder?

"…did you say something, your highness?" nasir asked, looking over at her again; and again, his expression always came across far more serious than he could ever truly intend.

perhaps he had only put her off their upcoming journey, and yet it was imperative that the woman in the most amount of power in this northern court understood the reality of where they were going - if not for her to coach the rest of the northern ladies in the court. they could not be too casual with their tongue, they could not find false friends in those who were more foe.

"perhaps that was the reason." or perhaps manal would have found the princess entirely dull and unbecoming; they were striking different, manal able to command the centre of attention - whilst, well, the difference was obvious enough. again, he sounded almost borderline dismissive of dacey's idea of her perhaps getting along with his sister - though not because he actually thought that, but rather because he'd rather not discuss his sister at great length. too sensitive a subject, no doubt.

"i think it would best if you did…i know my limits, princess." he knew what he was good at. gift giving, had never been one of those subjects.

dacey did not answer the question immediately. it wasn't that she bristled at the question, did not take offence to the fact it had been asked. no, when the quiet stretched between them, it was because she was considering the answer she would give. the north had always been her home, a place she was sure she would never leave, she still felt that way. when she closed her eyes, she could not picture herself anywhere but winterfell, but she knew that would not always be so. once the matter of his own marriage was settled, owen would likely want to see her wed, too, and there was no telling where her groom to be would be from, and where that would see her living. the matter of leaving the north or not was not in her own hands.

"i don't know," she admitted at last, her voice quiet enough that it didn't carry beyond lillith. "the north is as much a part of me as the marrow in my bones. i shouldn't like to leave it, but none of us know what the future will bring."

and yet. her lips pressed together with the thoughts she would not speak aloud. for a long time, she had thought of winterfell as her sanctuary. as a sickly young girl, it was a place where the ills of the world could not touch her, and she had carried that thought process into her adulthood. now, though, she could not help but wonder if it was less a sanctuary, and more a cage she had constructed around herself. she took a breath to dispel the thought. there was little to be gained from dwelling upon it.

"ironoaks," she spoke softly, latching on to the offered distraction. there was something in the offer that tempted her, to her own surprise. she had always been more comfortable in what was familiar, but even in winterfell's halls, little felt familiar now. there was too much being whispered in the shadows, and the sinking anticipation of impending disaster she could not shake. the idea of an escape, however brief, was not unwelcome. "i would like to visit." she confirmed. "though we should both pray that i don't bring the cold with me when i do."

lillith stood beside dacey, her hands clasped loosely before her to keep them from fidgeting. the warmth of the hearth barely reached her, and she shifted slightly closer, her dark skirts brushing against the stone floor. the heat was a welcome reprieve from the biting chill of the north, though her mismatched eyes flickered toward dacey, noting the way her friend still seemed cold despite the fire’s proximity.

“the north doesn’t make it easy for visitors, does it?” she murmured, her voice light with an undertone of amusement. “i thought the cold might have mellowed since the last time i came here, but it appears as unyielding as ever. you must tell me, dacey—if you had the choice, would you ever leave it? or has it bound you too tightly, like frost creeping into stone?”

she glanced toward the bustling hall beyond, voices and laughter spilling into the quieter space they occupied. the firelight painted the edges of dacey’s gown in golden hues, and lillith’s gaze lingered there a moment before returning to her friend’s face. “you should come to the vale. ironoaks would welcome you, and it would do you good to escape this chaos, even for a little while. there are no hot springs to warm the walls, true, but the hearths burn just as brightly—and," as the thought formed a drunken clatter arose from a particularly rowdy group in the corner of the hall. "the company might be more agreeable.”

a faint smile tugged at her lips, softening her typically reserved expression. “though perhaps you’ll tell me you’re just as stubborn as your winters and wouldn’t leave even if the chance arose.”

she shouldn't have come here. for the first time, dacey was struck by the selfishness of what she had done in facing brandon. after everything, the way that things had gone so south, it felt almost like inflicting another cruelty on him by making him sit with a stark. she had thought only of herself, seen him as a path to her answers. she should have found a better way, but it was too late for that. there was a stilted edge to the conversation, both deliberately ignoring all that they could say. if she was a bolder person, more like cassana maybe, perhaps she could find the words that she currently couldn't grasp. but that wasn't her way, and so the barrier remained.

his response was both vague, and yet completely plain to her. dacey stilled for a moment, mind racing as she tried to rationalise what he was telling her, her heart sinking as she realised it made complete sense. the silence stretched for a moment, and she squeezed her eyes shut, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"well," she began, and was even surprised herself by the annoyance that tinged her voice. "that explains a lot, doesn't it?"

she couldn't pinpoint exactly why she was annoyed, but there was an anger towards alys that was rising within her that she hadn't anticipated. perhaps it was annoyance at herself, that she had locked herself away, turned a blind eye for so long that this was where they had ended up.

she thought of old stories, told to her in her childhood, racking her brains for what she knew. there was one thing that stuck out to her - a warning that such ancient practices had their price. was alys' disappearance the cost paid? or did it lie in jon's death? rosalyn's? meera's? she didn't know if the blame was at alys' feet, or if this was a completely irrational line of thought, but it was one that gnawed at her all the same.

"who knows?" she didn't know why that mattered to her, only that it did. then, there was the issue of removal, which presented just as many problems as solutions. "you said it was to aid the war," her hands had fallen into her lap, her right thumb scratching lightly at the skin of her left hand. "can i be sure that won't do more harm than good?"

♞

it were a peculiar and obvious change, to see the emergence of another stark princess when one had gone missing. there had been no leads as to her vanishing, no traces to follow in what could have happened; only an open window during a stormy night, in a tower that was too high to scale, with no ways in which she could have escaped from it. there was a small voice at the back of his head, which only asked him why he bothered in such things.

was it not the responsibility of adam stark that his own sister was dead? was it not the responsibility of king owen stark that his own wife was now a lifeless, cold corpse? his gaze looked upon the princess of winter, and there was a level of distance within them that was different to what he usually showed toward the children of winterfell that he once would have considered his own siblings.

now, though, his distance was obvious. as though they had both drawn a line in all that had happened, and there was no changing it. no blurring it. no going above, or beyond it. "yer highness." brandon's voice remained wrapped in his usual karhold accent, his hands clasped before his heavy furs: making no other response to her words of gratitude. let them see what it was they needed to discuss, so the distance between stark and karstark could once again be put firmly in place.

be useful, were the words she uttered. he heard something she did not necessarily say, though made no reaction to it. again, his blankness was unusual: it was all wrong. but it felt as though this was how things would be, and they would grow into the mighty change. his gaze flickered her direction as she pulled out items. he knew what they were. the last he had seen them was the night he had ruined what it was she was trying to do. stopping her.

"her highness turned to ancient practices, to aid in the war for winterfell." ancient practices. woods witches. magic, which took both forms. "yer'll be wantin' to remove such things from yer household."

{Words by José Olivarez from Citizen Illegal /@fatimaamerbilal , from even flesh eaters don't want me.}

closed starter for @nasirofmanderlys

dacey was not a bold person. she had little of her siblings courage. when she entered a room, it was with her head lowered, determined not to draw attention to herself. she did not covet the feeling of eyes on her, but the last few months, though fraught with the stress of loss, had had the unintended side effect of pushing her from her comfort zone. more visible and more involved than she had perhaps ever been, she held her head a little higher these days, even if only to give the impression that she actually knew what she was doing.

however, if there was anybody guaranteed to send her scuttling from the room, gazed fixed firmly on her own feet, it was nasir manderly. it wouldn't be accurate to say dacey did not like nasir - it was just that she was very, very aware that he held little regard for her. being unnoticed wasn't something that bothered dacey much. she actually preferred that, in many ways. but nasir manderley's words, so long ago, had given her the distinct impression that he plain disliked her, and that, she found harder to deal with.

and so, she responded in the only way she knew how - by completely avoiding him. if she entered a room and saw him there, she shot to the other side of it, or made her excuses and left. it wasn't a snub, on her part - simply a desire not to force her company where it. a kindness.

and so, when she noticed nasir in this room, she was quick to say her goodbyes and take her leave. that was, until she heard someone calling her name. she turned to look for who had called out to her, but failed to spot them. what she did see was nasir, standing close enough to her that she couldn't avoid him without being rude, and looking her dead in the eye.

"lord manderly," she managed to keep her voice steady. that was about all she managed, though. her mouth opened, then closed again, her brain completely devoid of all logical thought. how long had it been since she'd last spoken to him? she had to say something. "have you been to the westerlands before?" it was good enough.

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

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

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

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

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

closed starter for @maisiemormont

the rooms that dacey had been staying in during her time in the west were a flurry of movement, maids and ladies rushing to help the princess pack so that she might leave the west along with the king. she should not have left it until the last minute to ensure everything was ready to go. even her direwolf was helping, neatly collecting her belongings at dacey's command for her to place in her trunks.

when yet another body entered the room, she gave them a cursory glance and a nod of hello, only to double take when she recognised it not as a member of her household or a servant of the west, but a ruling lady of the north. maisie mormont.

"lady mormont," she rose to her feet, granting a grateful smile to the maid who stepped in to take over her spot kneeling at the trunk, ensuring everything fit. "i apologise for the state of disarray. will you be travelling with us, or do you intend to stay longer in the rock?"