Cursed With "do You Still Like Me?" "are You Mad At Me?" "did I Do Something Wrong?" Disorder

Elizabeth Olsen photographed by Ryan West for L'Officiel Indonesia (2018)

dacey exhaled, the breath coming from her in a visible puff as it met the cold air. it was a heavy burden brandon carried now, and she felt the weight of it on her own shoulders. she looked at him for a second too long before speaking, but it was not suspicion that clouded her gaze, merely contemplation. perhaps with all that had transpired, the cracks in the ice of the northern court, it was a foolish thing to trust him, but she did. when she looked at him, she saw only honesty in his face.

"i don't envy the position you find yourself in." owen was her brother, but she would offer him no lies. it would do no good - because despite everything, brandon still knew owen far better than she. dacey loved her brother, and there was little he could ask of her that she would not do, and yet, she could not pretend that she had the measure of him as a man. "if i thought my words held any weight with my brother, i would offer to speak for you. but..." she trailed off, allowing the unspoken to fill the silence. but, it would be best coming from brandon.

and it was strange, how he seemed to want to give her reassurance, when that was the exact thing she was struggling to find to offer him. "oh, it's..." she began her protest, her assurances that she believed that the blame for this did not lie at his feet, but the words died in her throat. brandon faltered before her, suddenly unsteady on his feet, and her reaction was instinctual, moving closer and raising her hands as though he did not tower over her, as if she could bear the weight of him if her fell.

in the end, she did not need to. he caught himself on the wall, pressed his hand to the side of his head, and still, dacey stood there, arms half-raised, hesitating as she studied him. "brandon," her voice was soft, a whisper on the wind as she looked him over, and saw etched in his features something that she could not name. her heart was hammering in her chest, and though she knew the gesture may not be welcomed, she could not fight the urge to reach out, to provide something solid and steady should he stumble again. the vision she had always held of brandon karstark was of a man who seemed so unwavering ; to witness him like this was unsettling.

dacey lowered one arm, but the other stretched out, bridging the small gap between them and coming to rest upon his arm. the fabric of his cloak was rough beneath her palm, but warm, her touch light, but firm, as though her own gentleness could somehow lend him strength. she did not know if she was overstepping, if this was too familiar, but in that moment, it was the last thing on her mind, her thoughts full of little else but her concern. "are you all right? do you need..." she glanced around, looking for somewhere to bid him to sit, before settling on a stone mounting block a few meters away.

"over here," her fingers curled around his sleeve, and she tentatively led him to the mounting block, brushing the snow from it with her free hand before gesturing for him to sit. it was only then did she let go of his arm, though her gaze did not move from his face, scanning for any sign of weakness or pain, or what exactly had come over it. perhaps it was the stress of it all. perhaps he was just tired.

"you're all right," her voice was low, a steady mantra of reassurance. "you'll be all right." she should step back, give him space to breathe, but a part of her remained afraid that if she did, he would keel over sideways. at least it was happening here, with the snow to break his fall and no eyes but her own and the gods, rather than in the overheated hall surrounded by northmen, though that was a small mercy in the grand scheme of things.

♞

the cold air outside the hall bit at brandon karstark’s cheeks, but he barely noticed it. winterfell’s great halls had been stifling, crowded with people and their endless voices. out here, beneath the wide expanse of a pale sky, he could think clearer. speak clearer. though dacey stark’s presence made his words heavier than he liked. she had a way of looking at a man like she could see the cracks in him, even if she didn’t mean to.

she stood before him now, bundled in furs, her cheeks flushed—partly from the cold, partly from the unspoken weight of their conversation. she was anxious, that much was clear. he could see it in the way her hands twisted at the edge of her cloak, the way she glanced at him like she wasn’t sure whether to trust his words or doubt them.

brandon exhaled, his breath a plume of mist. he’d been taller than most his whole life, but now, with his beard grown thick and wild, and the weight of years etched into his features, he felt like a shadow looming over her. he shifted, trying to soften his stance, though his voice remained gruff. “aye, i want to speak wi’ him,” he said, his words slow, careful. his karhold accent roughened each syllable. “but it ain’t about what i want, is it? i’ve got no choice but t’ clear me name and karhold’s name. them rumours o’ the true north are spillin’ too close me and my kin. if yer brother thinks i’m stirrin’ rebellion... well, that’s a noose i won’t wear.”

he glanced down at her, noting the worry in her eyes. it wasn’t just for him—there was a weight there, tied to her brother. to owen. “but yer right,” he admitted, his voice softening just a shade. “i don’t know how he’ll take it. things’ve been… strained.” he rubbed a hand over his beard, the motion slow, thoughtful. brandon had made his choice in refusing to attend the ceremony in which nasir manderly had taken up the position of hand; for the principle of it all. he too had not listened to the true wants of the north folk, and instead had been a champion.

perhaps even an instigator. it don't matter, not when the walls of white harbour remain high and they continue to become all the richer.

“but it’s a talk that needs havin’. and better it comes from me mouth than through whispers or knives in the dark, aye?” he watched her shift on her feet, unsure. she was trying to decide if she agreed, trying to decide if she even wanted to agree.

“listen, princess,” he said, his tone warmer now, though no less rough. “i ain’t leadin’ no rebellions. i don’t want yer brother’s crown, nor his throne. but what i do want is t’ make sure my folk don’t pay the price fer things i’ve no hand in.” he looked away then, out toward the snow-covered trees beyond the walls of winterfell. “yer kin matters t’ me. not just karstarks, but starks too. that’s why i’ll talk t’ him, no matter how he feels about it. he needs t’ hear it, and i'll leave it for da gods to decide..”

when he glanced back at her, his eyes softened just enough to ease the sharp edges of his words. “ye’ve got nothin’ t’ worry about, dacey. this ain’t somethin’ i’d leave unsettled. not when yer've been dealin wit....” there was a slight blur in his vision, and it showed in the fact his dark grey orbs seemed to flicker for a moment, becoming unfocused; he found himself reaching out against the stone wall, as though he needed to steady himself before losing his footing beneath him. it had come in a sudden wave, and his hand moved to his temple.

dacey nodded. her social circle had been small at school, and ryon wyl had not been part of it. she knew little of him to know if it had been a sporting and spirited action, or if hugo was being polite, as he often was. "either way, you look fine without it," she assured him, with a slight nod of her head.

"thank you. i'm a little embarrassed to say this was all panic-bought at the airport." she had forgotten all about it until they had gone through security, and scraped together what she could. she let out a laugh. "somehow, i'd completely forgotten about ugg boots. i'm not sure what we were thinking with those." she'd definitely had a pair or two of her own in her youth.

a gasp left her, and she shook her head. "oh hugo, congratulations. i'd have sent a gift if i had known." mentally, she added it to her to do list for when she arrived back home. "i'd love to meet her. how long have you two been together, now?" it might seem strange, being on such friendly terms with an ex-boyfriend, but dacey was nothing but happy for him in that moment. "i'm well. my partner and i are living together now, and i finished my residency this year, so i suppose i'm a proper doctor now."

"Oh no, it's fine, Mr. Wyl is sporting and spirited if anything." Hugo spoke with that same smile he always wore. Some would say he spent a lot of time in his political form and while that could arguably be true, he was also the kind of man who knew it was better to start with a smile. His mother always told him that people remember a man with a warm and welcoming smile.

Hugo spoke to the bartender and then put his attention back on her. "You look inspired if I say so myself. Personally, I find myself disappointed there's not a single Ugg boat in the crowd." Hugo laughed at his own joke as he finished his drink, glad for the new one coming his way.

"I'm quite well. I don't know if you've heard but I've been elected MP of Greenwich. Quite an accomplishment, well on my way I'd say. I would introduce you to Ellie Swann, she's somewhere. Perhaps speaking to her brother." He turned back to her. "Tell me how you are."

the birthchart of dacey stark

sun sign : cancer

cancers are astrologically wired to channel their intense emotions to caring for others and expressing a unique understanding of the human condition and heart. compassionate, often sweet, always deeply feeling, you can rely on the cancers in your life to offer a shoulder to cry on. typical sun in cancer traits include being nurturing, sensitive, compassionate, self-protective, security-seeking, and loving. since the emotional, maternal moon influences cancer's personality so intensely, the water sign tends to prioritize — and occasionally twist themselves into knots — to make most people in their life feel even slightly more comfortable and secure. they'll pour their heart into caring for plants and pets just as much as they do loved ones. while they're loyal to the core and will always show up for their friends, family comes first. cancer's intense connection to their emotions doesn't come without its negative side, which is a tendency to be moody and snappy when rubbed the wrong way in a particularly sensitive, agitated state. whether they're worked up or drowning in their feelings, they'll be quick to retreat into their shell.

moon sign : aquarius

there may be something about an aquarius moon that somehow “separates” them from everybody else. a fixed sign, which gives qualities of focus, perseverance and endurance, when an aquarius moon individual has a clear idea, they are unlikely to easily change it. their position as someone already ‘on the outside’ gives them the ability to interpret the world around them from an often unique point of view. the placement of the moon in aquarius gives them incredible compassion. they are the person who will "take a bullet" for the one they love, and will be the first person to stand up for the rights of another. they can be very caring when they want to be, though it may not read that way to others at first, because you are also a quiet person who keeps their emotions to themselves. an aquarius moon knows what they want and believes in personal freedom and choices. they will uphold what you believe in, no matter how far-fetched others may find their decisions. in some ways, they prefer solitude as it makes them feel safe, and independence is their calling card. those around them will notice that they only march to your own drum, and they accept this about them. an aquarius moon is a deep thinker — so much so, that they tend to get lost in thought. people think of them as a worrywart, spending way too much time overthinking things until they make very little sense.

rising sign : pisces

pisces is a mutable water sign, and those with this rising sign appear deeply emotional and sensitive. the symbol for pisces is two fish swimming in opposite directions, representing the duality and connection between the imaginary world and physical reality. they are masters of making the imaginary seem possible, but they also can succumb to melancholy and suffering. it’s in their nature to go with the flow, like swimming through the waves of the ocean. this can sometimes lead them to be overly trusting, and they might struggle with setting boundaries. pisces risings possess a natural ability to connect with the energies of others, giving them an emotional intelligence in new social situations. while they have a gentle demeanor, they can also be elusive, often escaping into their rich inner universe to find comfort. pisces ascendants might find solace in the arts or healing modalities—whether it’s through music, painting, or writing—as a means to channel their vivid inner world. they can gravitate toward spirituality, but they also should be aware of becoming lost in their own illusions. the rising sign strongly influences physical appearance. the pisces rising often has a dreamy and mysterious look about them, with features that appear delicate and otherworldly. their eyes, in particular, are known to appear captivating, soulful, and dreamy—often reflecting a depth of emotion. like their symbol, the fishes, a pisces is not in a rush. they uncover the mysteries and depth of emotion with ease. not one for conflict, they can bring serenity and soothe those around them. they are also highly in touch with their intuition, whether they are aware of it or not. they are dreamers, artists, and healers, who are here to create beauty, inspire others, and bring a sense of enchantment to the lives they touch.

"it's an artform i'm familiar with." there was a sort of quiet contemplation in dacey's expression. a hum of agreement at malee's words. "it is a kind of magic, i suppose." the magic, though, was in the fact that they were looking upon the fruit of someone's labour. the fields of gold and skies of blue clearly mattered to the weaver to pour such care into their creation, every thread a deliberate act of preserving a memory. to dacey, that told more of a story than any tales of battle and conquest.

"i think i favour it because it is so peaceful. there is no need for embellishments or ornamentation. it speaks for itself, and it is enough as it is." the battle piece demanded attention and awe, but this earned it, gently and quietly, it's true grandeur only revealed the more she looked at it.

or perhaps it was because dacey simply did not have the stomach for war and battle. so often, she heard people around her speak of the vision of peace, as though it was something they strove toward, only for it to be broken almost the moment they had it. "if only we could treasure peace whilst we have it, instead of relying on reminders when it is threatened."

her cheeks flushed. she didn't know why she said that. her throat cleared, and she readily jumped on the change of topic. "the stories tend to be that of our histories, as i'm sure yours tell your own. the weaves are quite different, though. northern tapestries are far heavier - the cold demands it. and the colours... it is rare to see a sky so blue past the neck, and we weave what we know." it had been a long time since she had seen white harbour, and she tried to recall what hung on the manderly's walls.

malee inclined her head at the winter princess' words, a soft smile playing at her lips. “you have an eye for it, your grace,” she said, her voice even and measured, though there was a warmth beneath it. “not everyone looks beyond the grand gestures to see the smaller threads that truly hold a piece together.” she gestured lightly toward the tapestry of the harvest. “it does seem to breathe differently, doesn’t it? as if it asks us to pause, rather than march forward.”

she let her fingers trail just above the fabric, careful not to touch the fragile threads. “it’s a kind of magic, weaving a story from nothing but wool and vision. there’s honesty in it, even when the tales themselves are embellished.” the soft hues of gold and blue seemed to glow in the dim light, a stark contrast to the crimson chaos of the battle scene.

the lady of the crag turned toward dacey, her expression thoughtful. “i admire your honesty, your grace,” she said after a pause. “it’s easy to speak of glory when surrounded by reminders of it.” her lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “but you’re right to prefer this one. it feels... truer, somehow. a reminder of what we fight for, even if it’s fleeting.”

she exhaled softly, almost to herself. “sometimes i wonder if we only appreciate peace once it’s become a memory.” there was a heavier meaning to her words, with the tension lingering in the air, kingdoms who held their own firm opinions, a dislike of what the lion king has decreed in his lands, it felt as if the small bit of peace had already come unraveled, a thread fastened with haste and a lack of care. "are tapestries so similar in the north? i mean, i imagine the stories are similar, but do you find the colors or weaves to be different here? i did not have the privilege of seeing the tapestries white harbor had to offer during our court's time there." she questioned, adding, almost wistfully, "i suppose that seems so long ago, now."

Stephanie Garber, Once Upon a Broken Heart

events like this were never comfortable to dacey, but it was clear to her that lord templeton was taking care to push her, the way some did when they sought to engage her in conversation. those who did would only find her clamming up all the more. percival's approach was better, she thought, carried with it the implication that this was a man who was thoughtful, and thoughtful people tended to be kind.

she did not like the giant's head. it send a shiver down her spine, but she kept that to herself. "the giant was slain by my brother, the prince adam. i am sure he can tell you a more insightful tale of it than i ever could." whilst that particular trophy was not her favourite, the tapestries were.

"i think i am more qualified to speak on the tapestries, if that is all right." none of her own work hung publicly, dacey's own creations reserved for the more private parts of winterfell, where her family dwelled, but she had given many hours to looking at those that hung here in pursuit of her own mastery of the craft. she knew them well. "most speak of the accomplishments of our ancestors. the ones who became kings, at least. the earliest tales are of the fight against the night's king at the wall, then of other lords who once called themselves kings, before the starks held all the north." it was not lost on dacey - the way all their stories came from times of war.

The Knight of Ninestars bowed his head, politely appreciative that the Northern princess was a gracious host as well as her brother. Of course, there was also a sense of pride subtly simmering in him when Dacey Stark admitted to already knowing who he was. He could only hope she knew of him for the carefully constructed reputation he'd sought to build as a valiant knight, an honorable lord, and a loyal Commander to his queen. And not for the coincidental misfortunes that ended a betrothal here and there in his past.

“I'm pleased to formally meet you, your highness,” he added with a softer smile, a subtler gesture with a more subdued sort of charm. There was an air of reservation in the Stark princess, he'd noticed, he did not wish to overstep or cause discomfort. She reminded him of other women he'd known in the past, gentler presences to engage with more care.

“We do, very much so. Thank you,” he responded, glancing around the great hall. He could see Ginevra, and how she thrived in environments like this one. Both of the Templeton siblings were very much in their element, comfortable, in social gatherings. “I admit I also find myself feeling very intrigued. I noticed the giant's head displayed in King Owen's throne room, and some of the tapestries that hang here,” Percival mentioned, “Yours is a land of rich stories. If you don't mind, could you feed my curious mind and tell me a little about them?”.

Sharon Olds, from "Known to Be Left", Stag’s Leap

his musings on the gods brought a purse to her lips, a thoughtful look to her eye, and she nodded their head. in king's landing, she had felt so utterly disconnected from the old gods. in the north, she could feel them everywhere, in every bite of wind and whisper of the trees. the further north they travelled, the more at ease she felt, and in blackwood lands, there was a sort of comfort knowing that here at least, they still had power. "then it is all we can do to trust in their wisdom, and hope that we can change with their will, too." she held her faith very privately, but there was an ease to their conversation that made it easier to talk about.

if there was one skill dacey possessed, it was knowing when to stay quiet and listen. lucius did not change his stance, but his words carried enough weight that she did fall into silence, allowing him to speak the thoughts through to completion before responding. "then perhaps there is no luck involved, on either side. you are all simply where you belong." she could almost envy that. so many of her days were spent feeling out of place and out of sorts, trying to contort herself into a shape that fit with something. she did not get the impression the same could be said for lucius, who wore who he was with no frills or compromise, and yet had roots in the ground, a place and a role and a purpose.

"i'm glad of that. i will be awfully embarrassed if you reduce me to tears," as quickly as they had grown serious and candid, the tone once again shifted, a rapport that was more convivial. "westermen, valyrians," she raised a hand and made a gesture, as though dismissing the idea of both. "conversing with either feels like they are trying to catch you out on something so they may use it to condemn you. at least there's a candour to stormlanders i can appreciate. i would rather be slighted by honesty than find comfort in treachery."

Dacey was certainly reserved in what she said, how she phrased things, and her diplomatic demeanor. He detected some disdain in her words, though, or what he believed to be disdain toward the newly crowned Targaryen king. He could respect that she was not immediately inclined to be a boot-licker about it, as so many seemed to be when it came to the mad House of the Dragon. “Stranger things could happen still,” he mused, “the gods continually will for the world to change”.

Lucius glanced silently at the princess as she complimented his presence in the Blackwoods' lives. So often it was perceived in such a way. His siblings were lucky to have him, someone who would always raise his bow and fight for them. A different thought crossed his mind, though, one that was rare in Lucius' mind. “I'm lucky to have them,” he found himself saying. The bastard's stern demeanor remained, despite the vulnerability he perceived in saying something like that out loud. It was best to focus on the practicality of it all, rather than the emotional side of things. “Not everyone welcomes someone like me into their families. I suppose I was fortunate my father always claimed me, even if he didn't give me his name”.

The bastard actually found himself smiling a little at his cousin's last words. She spoke in a similar upfront manner as Maggie did, somehow never crossing a line into cruelty or becoming offensive. It was a talent he didn't develop so graciously. “Fret not, I've no evil plans to do so, Dacey. I do pity you if you've dealt with worse,” he said in a more light-hearted manner. “Who was it? A Westerlander? A Stormlander?”.

House Stark

of Winterfell

Winter Is Coming

credits: divider created by @zaldritzosrose

house stark won the poll. the next one is house velaryon!