A Temporary Hush Fell Between Them. Usually When Such Silences Fell, It Kicked Dacey's Mind Into Overdrive,

sheltered was perhaps the best way to describe dacey stark, and that was her own doing. it did not help her now, though, for it was a struggle to recall who it was that she was speaking with in that moment. it took a minute before she recognised him from the coronation of king jaehaerys - the lord paramount of the stormlands, whose sister was mother to two of her cousins.

"catmint," she repeated, sounding somewhere between amused and satisfied by the answer. she took the flower, taking it from the very bottom of the stem in heed of his warning. "i've never seen it before. it must prefer the sun." it took a hardy plant to survive the climates of the north, though she wondered if it might survive under the dome of the glass gardens, where it was warmer.

"the smell is divine. i will look forward to the tea." the flower was placed in the basket, and she set about collecting more, now that she was assured there was no danger to come from touching them. she was not in the habit of picking unfamiliar blooms, aware of the dangers some possessed if handled without the proper care taken. "i do wonder, do you know how it got it's name?" were cats fond of it, or was it some reference to the lion of lannister that she did not understand?

"i'm sorry, my lord. i forgot to thank you for your assistance." it was not often that dacey forgot her manners, but in that moment, they had quite slipped her mind. "you seem knowledgeable on such matters." she did not think to find common ground with a man of new valyria, but a stormlander was quite different to a man of the crownlands, or so she understood.

whilst the lord paramount was swift in his duties to make nice with the court of lions, as a steadfast ally of his king, he never felt amongst friends in a place such as this. of course, he would also say he did not feel amongst friends in the court of dragons, either. though he had grown up with many of those he walked alongside in the same halls, they had, over time, become something akin to strangers. war bonded them, certainly spilling blood with those around you would do such a thing, but as time passed, and memory's faded, it seemed so did loyalties.

such was life, so he believed. the sun continued to rise and set, and he would continue on as he did every day. morgan wylde was a man of routine, and habits, so his decision to visit the lion's tor on a whim was certainly unlike him, but as he was one who often preferred the solitude of nature and the outdoors, it also wasn't entirely shocking when he said as much to his household.

the ride was not terribly long - morgan had much to ponder on the journey. he was still a bit dazed and surprised by the kindness of the dornish woman on the water's edge, how they could not be more destined to be enemies, and yet she was compassionate instead of resentful, everything he did not imagine for one of dorne.

he exited the carriage, the warm sun upon his face, and gave a quick word to those accompanying him before taking a stroll on his own. the hillside was so green, and ground firm, and drier than he were used to. he imagined his boots should sink slightly upon the earth as they did in the rain house, but the did not. the crunching of the earth was almost foreign to him, and when blue orbs looked down, he realized he stepped in a patch of flowers.

a woman's voice called to him in that moment, and he glanced over to her. he recognized her, vaguely. he believed her to be of the north, and then the connection was made that she were certainly one of the stark princesses. morgan tried to do well to recall the royals and high nobility of each court. he approached her to observe what she were referring to. a grin spread upon his face as he knelt down to pluck the plant by it's stem, careful not to touch too high - for there were small thorns amongst the lavender petals. "it is called catmint, your grace." he stated, holding it up between them so she may observe it closer. "bees are fond of it, butterflies too, perhaps it would be good in some tea." he held it for her to take, now. "careful of the small spines nearer the middle."

dacey somehow completely lost track of what the camera was doing. she knew she was laughing in the second picture, and thought they might have been kissing by the fourth, but it was truly anyone's guess. she barely even registered that their little photoshoot was finished, not until she pulled away from the kiss and realised the screen had once again darkened. "those ones were better, i think." she took a moment to straighten her hair, make sure her lipstick was still in place, and reached out to wipe a tiny smudge of it from the corner of his own mouth before standing, holding her hand out for him to take so she could help him stand, too.

stepping out of the booth, dacey saw the second round of pictures had already been printed, picking up the strip and taking them in with a smile before offering it to ulises to look at. "see? much better. we just needed to practice."

her gaze swept around the fair, noting familiar faces, and those that were less familiar. "did we really go to school with this many people?" she mused out loud. "it didn't seem like so many at the time. though i suppose some of the people here are just guests, aren't they?"

Flying all the way from Norway to come here had given him a bit of a let lag too in the past couple of days, though he'd slept well enough the previous night to not feel that weariness right now. In any case, that excuse could give them an out to leave anytime they wanted. He rubbed the small of Dacey's back tenderly. With that touch and just a glance, he could communicate that they were okay to leave whenever she wished. But who knew, perhaps his own social battery would end before hers.

“I'm sure. Come on,” he said with a nod, confirming he really was eager to take some more pictures with his girlfriend. With their first set of pictures safely tucked inside Dacey's wallet, they were back in for another round of photos inside the booth. Ulises wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer. He felt Dacey's kiss on his cheek, which immediately made him grin for the first picture. Ulises allowed himself to be a little sillier and have fun with her, winking at the camera for the second picture. He turned to look at her for the third one, just pausing there. Ulises looked at her with so much warmth and adoration in his eyes, but that look wasn't for the camera, it was just for Dacey. His free hand moved up, slipping to the back of her neck and he leaned in to kiss her. He had no clue at what point the fourth picture was taken.

maisie spoke of her loyalty, and dacey merely nodded, a twist of guilt shooting through her that she felt the need to justify her position. not to dacey, at the least, and yet, perhaps this was the price of her increased presence at court, that the people who surrounded her would not find themself scrambling to provide her with explanations, to discuss politics she did not wish to involve herself in beyond what was necessary. and underneath the guilt was worry, a concerned look shot to the westerlander serving girls helping the princess to pack. they had been sweet and obliging, but dacey trusted them not. discussing the fractured state of the north in the midst of the lion's den was not something she would indulge in. "perhaps this conversation is better left for our return, my lady," despite her attempts to keep her voice casual, it shook a little, betraying what was going through her mind. "though i am sure my brother will be glad to hear of it."

she had intended to let the matter rest there, but when maisie brought up encouraging brandon to do something, dacey stiffened, an unfamiliar protectiveness for brandon karstark shooting through her at the insinuation. "i don't know," teeth came down over her bottom lip, fingers moving to scratch the the sore red skin around her nailbeds. "lord karstark has been through much of late. but he is your blood." stark and karstark were ancient kin, but the blood he shared with maisie ran far thicker. it was not for dacey to involve herself in matters of family. and in any case, brandon already planned on speaking with the king, or the hand, if their last conversation held truth.

the change of topic was rapid, but one dacey jumped on, anything to distract from the northern fracture. marriage and children was her duty to the north, one she herself had yet to fulfil, but she was one stark princess in many, and knew not what plans her brother had for her hand. it was different for maisie, who had the fate of house mormont to consider. "have you a mind to take a husband?" she queried. it was a happier topic than that of alicent hightower. "suffered, and caused suffering in turn." she pointed out. "do not forget that she sowed the seeds that tore the realm apart, and took many lives with it."

❛❛Yes, my cousin... Brandon❜❜ Maisie cleared her throat in a silent cough as she affirmed, tilting her head a little and biting the bottom left corner of her lip. It was obvious that she felt Dacey's gaze on her face, as well as the countless questions that filled the princess's mind; Dacey had always been sweet, friendly, but very worried and afraid of everything around her, one part of Lady Mormont understood her completely, the other wanted to give her a little push so that Stark would blossom for good; ❛❛I'm loyal to the Starks, I always will be,❜❜ she assured quickly, trying to calm the princess's doubting mind. ❛❛There's only one true north for me, the one you and I know,❜❜ she sighed and slumped her shoulders, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

❛❛He's my family, the only one I have left by blood. I just want to convince Brandon to do something about it, or try to... I don't feel like I have that much of a voice yet.❜❜ A smile appears on Mormont's face at the memory of the family time she had, she misses it ❛❛It's just...❜❜ She shakes her head and arches her eyebrows ❛❛I hope it really was a bit of fun with wine, beer and random conversations❜❜ She says, remembering a little of the amount of alcohol she had consumed, much more than she normally did, something about western wine was different from northern wine.

❛❛It's very strange to say that all this has made me wonder if I'll ever have children, I mean, I need to, but... you get the idea❜❜ He laughs a little as he fumbles with his words, but then closes his face as he remembers the terrible scene that took place ❛❛I wouldn't have liked to have seen it either, hasn't she already suffered too much for them to still be targeting her? It reminded me that the climate of war is still there, I don't like it❜❜

closed starter for @northernglorie

the hour was late, and dacey's quiet footsteps echoed against the stone walls, reverberating through the silence. there was once a time when she could count on being the only one awake when night fell over the keep, but now, it was more and more common to find that she was not alone in it.

more often then not, one who could be counted on to remain awake was glorie. and on nights where solitude was too much for her, dacey found herself here, approaching glorie's door with a warm drink and the hope that the night would end a little less lonely.

"i brought you something to drink," she placed the cup carefully on a clear spot on the table, careful not to interfere with glorie's work. there was a quiet admiration for her good-sister, and she liked to think that glorie knew it was there, that it showed in these small gestures. "and some candles. i wasn't sure if you had enough."

"and my company, if you'll have it."

even as children, the similarities between dacey and cyrene had ended with their last name. the sister dacey remembered had burnt bright and fierce, her voice always ringing loud and certain where dacey's shook. if cyrene had been a flame, dacey was the shadow cast behind it. she had never truly minded that, content to bask in the warmth her sister offered her, but all fire had the ability to scorch, and dacey could not help but shield herself from it now, for fear of being burnt.

and she understood what cyrene meant by her comment, the difference between living and surviving. in truth, dacey could not remember a time when her existence hadn't centred around the latter, when the focus of her days hadn't been about making it through rather than living as best she could, and that was what painted the expression of hurt across her face before she could hide it. was that what cyrene thought of her now? that she were good as dead?

"sometimes being alive is all you have." came the defence, quiet and weak, as though dacey hoped she would not hear it.

a blink, and the hurt in her face gave way, first to confusion at the rapid change of tone, then understanding at what cyrene was trying to do. she nodded her head. "i would like to." there had never been a chance to meet cyrene's children before, but at least with wylla, she could now make up for lost time. "where is she?"

I am alive. That is more than many.

The words hit Cyrene like a backhanded slap. Alive. More than many. Jon was no longer alive, the third to their little unruly trio. Now, here they stood. Not that far apart, but it might as well have been realms. Cyrene still in the Riverlands with Dacey all the way up in the North. Cyrene had tried. And it had not been enough.

Some deeply buried part of her wanted to allow the heat to rise into her cheeks. Wanted to raise her voice, wanted to yell. Not necessarily at Dacey, but at something, someone looking down at them and building walls and circumstances to tear them apart.

Cyrene bit her tongue. She had grown used to this by now. Copper in her mouth, her temper caught in her throat. "Alive means little these days. Merely being alive is almost as good as dead." Cyrene would know this only too well. She felt alive walking the halls of the Crossing. But she didn't feel like she was living.

"Would you like to meet my daughter?" A change of topic would be good. Yet another chance for Dacey to turn away from Cyrene, but she would not take this olive branch back. "Wylla is rather eager to meet her extended family." It was a weak reasoning, but true nonetheless.

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.

if there was one thing dacey was completely certain of, it was cassana's strength. where dacey had little, her sister, her baby sister, possessed it in spades. dacey had faltered so many times, crumbled under the slightest amount of pressure, but cassana had always stood proud and unyielding. it broke her heart to see her like this, but she understood it inherently.

"cass," there was something firm in her voice, an indication that what she was about to say was not to be argued with. "there is no apology needed. i was already awake, and you are welcome company." she paused, hesitating for a moment. "and even if i was, it doesn't matter. you can come to me no matter the hour." there was a gentle earnestness to her tone, an open invitation to seek dacey's door whenever it was needed.

a distraction. it was an easy enough to propose, but now the prospect of actually doing the distracting was before her, it was difficult to think exactly what she could do to provide relief from all Cass had been through. She absent-mindedly ran her fingers through Cass' hair, chuckling when she felt a knot towards the ends. "Your hair is all tangled," she couldn't help but chuckle as she spoke the words. "would you like me to fix it for you?"

.

cass closed her eyes, surrendering to the embrace of her sister's arms, finding comfort in their warmth and familiarity. though she was the youngest among them, she rarely sought such comfort from her siblings. she prided herself on her resilience, her ability to remain steadfast in the face of adversity that they always seemed to face. she was a wolf. a stark. yet, despite her efforts to maintain composure, she found herself crumbling beneath the weight of her emotions. why was this particular moment so different? why did she struggle to maintain her facade of strength? it was stupid, she was stupid for feeling this way.

a surge of guilt and embarrassment flooded through her, prompting a hasty apology. "i'm sorry, dacey. i shouldn't have woken you up," she murmured, attempting to dismiss how she was feeling.. but even as she spoke, she made no move to break free from her sister's embrace. her words felt feeble, even her lie felt stupid.

"perhaps a distraction would be good." cass suggested, her voice resonating softly in the darkness. something to help get her mind off of things, make her believe she wasnt being foolish. that the darkness didn’t suddenly frighten her.

IL DESERTO ROSSO (RED DESERT) 1964 | Michelangelo Antonioni

a small part of dacey hoped that brandon would confirm that he knew exactly where saoirse was. that this was all a big misunderstanding, and he would take her to her sister, and things would slowly begin to return to normal - or as normal as they could be, given everything else that had happened since their arrival. they would return home, and she would hold her sister close and repair the distance that had festered between them over the years. in their childhood, dacey and saoirse had been near inseparable. the younger sister's fostering in the riverlands had put an end to that, and now, she hated herself for not doing more. why hadn't she done more?

she took a shaky breath, an attempt to steady herself, return her voice to its usual cadence, but it had little effect. when she spoke again, her voice cracked, pitching unnaturally. "saoirse's rooms were empty this morning. it seems she is not in the tower." dacey had always been private with her emotions. she bore her grief and worry and melancholy quietly, away from prying eyes, but there was no hiding it now. later, perhaps, she would be embarrassed by herself, her lack of self-control. right now, though, her own shame was the furthest thing from her mind.

brandon's line of questioning was logical. "a hunting party?" she repeated, half a mutter, allowing herself a moment to ponder the thought. but then, surely her departure would have been seen? somebody would have noticed a princess of the north, would they not? "perhaps? i'm not sure. nobody has mentioned it to me, but perhaps lord manderly..." she broke off, for even in her distress, she was sensitive to the fact that this may be a sore subject for brandon.

her dark eyes met his, and she nodded her head a little. in a way, it was comforting to know that saoirse had been seen so recently. there was only a few hours between her disappearance and the search. "i could not remember the last time i saw her," she confessed, diverting her eyes to look at her ruined hands. she felt like she had failed her little sister. saoirse could be anywhere, dead, alive, in trouble, or simply exploring, unaware of the trouble she had caused. dacey didn't know, but she should.

there was another element to her guilt, one perhaps only brandon could understand. their last conversation hung heavily on her mind, though she had kept what they had discussed to herself. she believed that divulging what he had shared with her would only cause her family further heartache. now, she couldn't help but wonder if her two sister's disappearances were linked - and if they were, could she have prevented all of this? was it her fault?

"we don't know if it's connected to alysanne."

♞

the words that seemed to come tumbling from the lips of the princess who stood before him were words that caused his hands to fall on either side, almost as though there was a blow of defeat he were now dealing with at hearing such a thing: because it meant something was terribly wrong. alysanne's matter was on alysanne, and he thought it was supposed to be focused only on her - she who had taken part in such rituals and practices, and now faced the consequences of lore that ran too deep even for her to understand. but the other princess?

there was no reason for the other to be impacted and to have gone missing too, especially considering her hands had not touched such things?

or had they? was there something he was missing? had both sisters been involved in the matter. "...what?" brandon spoke, his voice ringing a sense of numbing shock that had not been heard since he had been told news of his wife's murder. of her butchering. this was not of his own, and yet, he began to feel as though something nefarious was happening. or, was it a guise of something entirely natural using the chaos of all that had happened to their advantage? there was a level of informality that came in his voice, a striking contrast to their last conversation where he had maintained such boundaries - as she had too. "what you mean?"

brandon knew what she meant, and yet, the thought in itself was enough to cause genuine discomfort to come over him. his grey orbs flickered over the various other northern faces in the hall, some of whom seemed as upset and disturbed as the princess, and others who appeared afraid, looking over their shoulder. "there was a hunting party that left this morning." and there were multiple people going missing from kings landing - from the dornish to the north. were they all connected? they could not have all been connected. unless there was something darker going on here. "are we sure she did not leave with them?"

they would need to leave, was his own take on the matter; gods knew he would tell aleksander he thought it best to return north. some would wish to remain to search, and yet, it was clear this was no place for them. what made him the most uneasy was the fact not once did thought of the dragon king cross his mind, not once did he put it down to him. he only thought of the sight of the woods that night, and the sounds of the chanting. he would need to speak to someone.

"i saw her yesterday during the feast." brandon offered words of attempted comfort; the night where the majority of the northern court gathered together in the great hall allocated to them within kings landing, the tensions and fractures obvious in the air. there was a lack of spirit, and of joy; the king was an increasing drunk, it appeared, and the manderlys found themselves stepping further and further into the light of power. "i don't remember how many times…did she not leave before us all?"

anya's assumption that dacey was someone who could adapt well took the princess by surprise, for that was never how she saw herself. it was why she rarely left the confines of winterfell, where she felt most at ease. wherever she went, there was a feeling of being ill at ease, as though everyone who surrounded her was simply waiting for her to do or say something that would see her judged. at least in winterfell, she knew the places where she would not be seen.

"i'm flattered, but i've never felt that was the case." she admitted. "but we endure it, don't we?" and dacey endured it because she had to, because the queen in the north was dead, her elder sister was gone, and now she found herself the oldest of the stark princesses. there was nobody to hide behind anymore. the quiet places where she most found comfort were no longer hers to occupy. "but there are friends here, i think. i hope it is the same for you."

it must be. the more anya spoke, the more dacey was reminded that she had seen far more of the continent than the princess had, that she had lived an entire life before entering the world that dacey had been born into. "at least we are here together," she pointed out. "a home from home whilst here." it was a comforting thought. she wished she had words of wisdom to offer, but she would wager that she knew even less of the west than anya did, and did not think nasir manderly's words of caution would be particularly helpful in this moment. "i think it is best to be wary," it was as close as she would get to repeating the words of the north's hand. "but we are here for a celebration. it would be good, i think, to indulge your curiosity whilst enjoying what king tyland has in store." whatever this trip would throw at them, it could not be worse than the crownlands.

A foot in one world, a foot in another. Anya still felt that way; a lady by title and having a place in King Owen’s court while remaining a bastard by birth in the eyes of many, someone who still maintained a certain link to her life before. She couldn’t fully cut it, admittedly. In the North, that sense of being what she was, who she was, did not bother her at all. She was surrounded by people who had known her for a long time, people who knew what she stood for and the value she brought. In other realms, it was different, perhaps in none more than in the West.

It was somewhat of a relief to hear the Northern princess admit she felt out of place as well. If someone like Dacey felt that way, it almost was a sort of permission to feel it too. She was justified in her thoughts if the princess doubted as well. “Really? I always saw you as someone who adapts quite well to foreign places,” Anya confessed that thought, for she always saw the princess carry herself with confidence and grace.

The princess’ second admission managed to bring a little smile to Anya’s lips. “It’s not awful. I may have been thinking the same,” the raven-haired lady chuckled softly, raising a hand to cover that little laugh that escaped her. It felt as though the walls had ears and she wanted no one but the princess to hear her own confessions. “I know so little of the West in comparison to other places. I never travelled much here in the past,” she said, for her trips for blade commissions generally took her to the Vale, the Riverlands, or the Reach. The West was as rare a destination as was Dorne, one for the distance and the other for their reliance on their own master blacksmiths, she supposed. “I’m a little curious about this place. But I'll admit I am more intimidated than I am curious,” Anya added with a little shrug. She'd been crossing paths with some people who piqued her interest in a land and a culture so different from her own, but there was something in the court of lions that did make her uneasy, for they seemed like statues of ivory and gold; unapproachable in their elegance, saintly or heroic, but always untouchable.