Elizabeth Olsen As Wanda Maximoff WANDAVISION | Season 1 Episode 9

"i am glad to hear that fortune has smiled on you." she truly was. she could understand how it would be easy to be bitter that others may prosper when it felt like her own life was falling apart at the seams, but that was not, would never be, dacey's way. the way she saw it, seffora was overdue for the blessings that she had received since they had last been face to face, and in that, there was hope that one day, the old gods would look upon house stark and grant them a reprieve, too. until that day, though, she would content herself with knowing that at least one person she cared for was well.

dacey nodded her head. "i would like that. it's been a long journey. i think some tea with a friend would be just the right way to settle in." just for a moment, it would do her some good to pretend as though nothing was wrong, and they were simply two women enjoying one another's company. the heavy gloom of winterfell had encompassed so much of her day to day. perhaps, despite her hesitancy to come, the westerlands could be a much-needed light.

"where are you staying?" she had yet to find her way around the westerlands, a place so unfamiliar to her that she had barely been able to picture it in her mind before they had arrived here. "i haven't got my bearings here yet, so you'll have to show me the way."

The Lady of Longtable offered a respectful bow of her head before the Princess of the North once she stood before her. Seffora did consider Dacey a friend, and despite skipping over some of the appropriate formalities, she did wish to convey her respect for the Stark princess. It was so reassuring to have the other woman reach towards her and offer a hug. The Merryweather held Dacey tightly, warmly, before they let go.

Dacey was not the first one to remark on her appearance as of late, whether to note her demeanor, whatever confidence or brightness she might be showing more outwardly than before. “Well, I've been blessed with great fortune,” was all she could say, for the gods had truly smiled upon her house and people after all the hardships they endured collectively as the civil war in the Reach raged on. Seffora knew her friend could be thinking of what she got to witness firsthand in Winterfell, though. House Merryweather had lost much back then. Seffora had lost the sister who had been her lifelong companion in the most harrowing way. The scar of such a loss remained, but as she stood here today, it didn't feel like a constantly bleeding wound.

“We must,” Seffora grinned, eager to hear whatever Dacey wished to tell her. She was also most willing to lend a shoulder to cry on too, if necessary, for news of the misfortunes of the Starks had reached the court of King Cedric. The Lady of Longtable would never forget the way the Stark princess had been there for her when she needed it. It was something she would never be able to fully repay. She wished to give it a try, however, and be there for Dacey. “Could you spare a moment now? Perhaps we can ask to have some tea or refreshments brought to the guest quarters my house has been granted”.

dacey had been sitting at the far edge of the hall for longer than she'd meant to. she was trying, but close to giving in and retreating for the night, reasoning that she had been seen and spoken with enough people to count it as owen's birthday gift, and none was notice if she slipped away. a cup of wine sat untouched at her elbow as her gaze swept the hall, lingering nowhere for overlong, but taking it all in. she wasn't meant for crowds like this, and that was what kept her rooted to her seat rather than brave trying to battle her way through it to reach the safety of her chambers. her first instinct, upon hearing a voice addressing her, was to brace herself, but the words were not sharp or intrusive. unfamiliar, but gently spoken, and that was enough to lower her defences just slightly, enough to look at the woman who had spoken with a small smile on her face, barely there, but present all the same.

"you may, my lady," she nodded at the chair beside her, her voice quiet but sincere when she spoke. "please, join me. i'd be glad of the company." it was only a half-truth. whilst she wasn't overfond of crowds, she enjoyed one-to-one conversations perfectly well, even with those she had never met. her presence wasn't unwelcome, even though dacey hadn't sought it out.

the woman was not a northerner, no daughter of any of the houses she had grown up learning the sigils and words of. by her accent, she might have been braavosi, but dacey had never had much of an ear for that sort of thing, and so she did not ask, lest the woman be from pentos and find being accused of being braavosi a grave insult.

she let out a soft laugh, her gaze returning to the crowd. "it's quite the river, isn't it?" the metaphor amused her, because it often felt that way, like a particularly quick-moving river she could never quite keep up with without slipping under the water. "the river moves a bit too quickly for me, i'm afraid, though my brother seems to be enjoying himself." this was owen's element, wherever he had found himself.

she folded her hands in her lap, her fingers brushing idly over one another. "i hope the cold isn't bothering you too much." it was the closest she would get to asking where the other was from, if it was a place that was used to the chill or not.

setting: winterfell, the king's birthday celebration. as sabiha becomes acquainted with westeros, she travel's north before going to the reach. starter for @daceystvrk

the hall of winterfell was a fortress of warmth against the ice outside, yet even here, the air clung to sabiha’s sleeves like frost. fires crackled in grand hearths, casting long shadows over the banners above, but the cold was still threaded through the stone beneath her shoes. it reminded her of the night markets back home, when the wind blew in off the black canals and everyone pretended not to shiver.

she moved carefully through the crowd—measured steps, polite nods, eyes always observing. northern feasts were not so different from those in braavos: the food was heavier, the laughter louder, but the politics still swirled beneath the surface like undertows.

at one of the long tables, she saw dacey stark. not adorned like a southern lady might be, but unmistakable, there was something of her mother in the chin, her father in the eyes. sabiha had studied the family line, not of just the stark's, but of many prominent families of westeros, absorbing all of the information she could in preparation for her journey. it was not out of necessity, in truth, but because patterns repeated themselves, even in bloodlines, and that fascinated her.

the lady approached with a quiet grace, her dark gown trailing like a shadow of silk behind her. she had only heard the name in passing, mentioned in careful tones by those who spoke of winterfell's quietest daughter. a lady of needle and song, not steel and saga. a contrast to the wolves around her.

sabiha approached without pomp or pause, footsteps light. she stopped just beside the bench and offered a bow of her head, measured and sincere, not the sweeping kind merchants performed when hoping for favor.

“your grace,” she said softly, the formality folded into calm. “forgive me. the hall grows louder by the minute, and your corner seemed the only place still holding its breath.”

she offered a small smile one of a gentle companionship. "i thought i’d ask if you might allow another quiet soul to share your quiet.” she glanced toward the merrymaking, then back to dacey. “sometimes it’s better, i think, to watch the river from the bank than be swept into it.”

anybody else might have laughed at owen's story, but dacey, though amused, looked vaguely horrified. "how many pizzas are you eating in a week, owen?" she asked, making a mental note to set up a meal delivery plan for him the second she got back to norway. "you could always donate some to a shelter or something. at the very least, it'll clear out your freezer." and also save his cholesterol levels.

sibling catch ups like this were far too few and far between. they'd all been so busy with their own lives, but it was nice to take a moment that was just for each other, no matter how overdue it was. she did her best, but it never quite felt like she was doing enough to show her support.

"life's good," she confirmed. "ulises has moved in." she'd never been sure she could see herself living with someone. for dacey, it was a big step. "everything else is basically the same. work keeps me busy. you should come by the hospital when you have time. there's a little boy on the ward who loves rugby, and he didn't believe you're really my brother," she smiled at the thought, shaking her head a little bit. "what about you? what's new in your life?"

who: @daceystvrk where: school gym notable deets: staaaaaark

"So, they said that if I can get them to a million likes I get life long freeze pizza. And when I realized it as like 400 calories for the whole pizza I was like well, I'll just eat as many pizzas as I can in my underwear and that's how I got free pizza for life but I'm a little sick of pizza."

Owen pulled his hair back away from his face as he caught up with his sister. He liked to visit her whenever he could and she came to games when she could, it was a good balance for them. The Starks were many but they were all very busy and even when Owen wasn't busy, he was always traveling because he could. He worked hard for his own money, ignoring the healthy trustfund from his family, and he wanted to spend his money in the best ways. What was the use in having so much if you wanted to die with the same amount?

"Tell me about things, how 's life be, doctor lady?"

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

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

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

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

she hesitated only for a beat, before nodding her head. "thank you, my lord." she'd never been entirely comfortable at events likes these, unsure how to act or behave for the best, and had not found it easier with age. in many ways, it only got more difficult. had percival not been there, she likely would have taken an extra second to steel herself at the door before walking through it. that was not an option with him standing there, and so, she hoped her reluctance did not show as she stepped through it.

she had expected that to be the end of it, courtesies exchanged at the door before he sought the company of his sister, or a friend, but then he spoke again. dacey turned her head, and a part of her was grateful he had initiated conversation. she was far better suited to one-to-one talks, and having this to focus on would prevent her from once again getting overwhelmed. "the honour is ours," she responded, a small smile crossing her face. "the vale are our allies. you are welcome here."

she did not know if this ball would come to anything, if owen would find a bride here or not, and whether it would be better if he did or did not. frankly, it was a trail of thought that made her head begin to ache, and so, she put it from her mind, and trusted in her brother's choices, as was often the easiest decision. things changed so quickly, and sometimes it felt like she was the only one remaining still.

"i know who you are, lord templeton," she said, then, worrying that it sounded rude or dismissive, was quick to add on to that statement. "but it is a pleasure to meet you properly, all the same." should she introduce herself? he clearly knew who she was, and yet it seemed presumptuous to not counter his introduction with one of her own. or would that just make her look a fool?

"i hope you and your sister have found yourselves comfortable."

The King in the North sought another bride after darling Rosa's untimely passing. It was anyone's guess if the Stark king would seek to pluck another fine woman of the Vale once more of if he sought something entirely different from the jewel he once had at his side. The Knight of Ninestars saw the king's ball as an opportunity for himself, as every situation tended to be translated in his mind. An opportunity for connections. An opportunity for alliances. Perhaps, an opportunity for more than just one man to find a future wife.

Used to living at heights of the continent, a Valeman's sights were usually high. Within his reach, nothing stood higher than a princess. So it was fortunate that his path led her to one of the beauties of the North as he was walking back into the great hall. “Apologies, your highness,” Percival spoke almost in unison with Princess Dacey Stark. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I walked in first? Please, princess,” he bowed, extending a hand to let her walk in before him. “I insist”.

The Knight of Ninestars didn't wish to let this incidental —and fortunate— encounter end at just that; a few words exchanged and the princess walking away. “His grace has hosted a beautiful event. I'm honored that me and my sister were considered to join your family as guests tonight,” he mentioned once the princess walked in and he did too, after her. It was usually so for the House of Ninestars, with Percival and Ginevra on the forefront, present at every social event, while Harlan and Elinor easily forgotten in the mediocrity of the cards they'd been dealt in life.

“Pardon me. Where are my manners? I'm Lord Percival Templeton, your highness. I don't believe we'd ever had the chance to be properly introduced,” the Commander of the Vale's Queensguard introduced himself with a pleasant smile, a polite gesture that easily bordered on being charming.

@asoiafsnet ‘s stark appreciation week

“the winters are hard, but the starks will endure. we always have.”

for a moment, dacey fell quiet, looking beyond lucius at some point in the distance. his words presented a conundrum, for as much as she was enjoying his company, in a strange sort of way she hadn't quite anticipated, lucius did not feel like someone she should confide in. but then, neither could she ignore his words. there was no doubt that the misfortune that had hit house stark in king's landing was not a secret.

"no." her answer came quietly. she had almost managed to forget, for a moment, lost in the frivolity of small talk, but now her mind wandered back to her sisters. "king's landing wasn't a good experience for us." the fact they were returning with two less starks amongst their number was proof enough of that.

she didn't want to dwell on it. there would be time to think it all through once she was back in winterfell, but time with her cousins was brief, and soon it would be over. she wanted to make the most of it, and so she schooled her face back into a smile and nodded her head. she had not asked the question out of a need to stroke her own ego - it was a genuine curiosity, one that had now been sated. "i'll try and keep it that way." the joke was a light, self-deprecating jab at herself. she even managed a laugh. "there's no offence taken. i'm actually flattered you think so."

Lucius gave a curt nod in response. A fresh start it was. Another person might have considered the strategic nature of becoming closer to someone of royal blood, yet the bastard did not operate in that way. There were few benefits in the world for him to reap beyond what his skill, his infamy, and the closeness to his siblings would award. The Bowman of Raventree Hall did not look for kindness or warmth in others either, yet he could not deny a part of him did appreciate Dacey Stark's manner of treating him.

“Northern folk don't do too well in Southron realms, I've heard,” he mused, admittedly curious to learn her opinions. Lucius did not merely mean the differences in weather, but the way of moving about in the world and interacting with others was so distinct in the wintry realm of the Starks than it was in other regions.

He wouldn't speak further on behalf of his siblings, though knowing the softness in their nature, they would never deem their cousin an intrusion. Her next question was somewhat unexpected. He arched an eyebrow, glancing at her as they walked. He wasn't someone who often felt pleased, so he actually struggled somewhat to decide where he found himself around that spectrum. “I'm not displeased,” he admitted in the end. “No offense to your siblings, but I do find your company better than theirs. They're so serious,” the Riverlander added with a light scoff. He knew he was a serious individual too, so putting him together with someone similar was just a recipe for quiet nods, intense stares and taciturn silence.

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.

it was a role dacey found herself falling into easily, that of the confidant, the person you could share your burdens with and trust that it would not go further. she did not voice further disagreement. believe we will survive, maisie said, and it was all dacey could do not to murmur that she wished she could in response. too much had happened, and too much had been lost, for her to believe herself untouchable, but she would not stop maisie thinking it. sometimes, you needed something to hold on to, and if that was survival, it was not for dacey to squash that from her.

"i think it is a wise choice. to believe in the best." if nothing else, it meant that maisie would not live with the crushing melancholy of grief, anxiety and despair, and dacey was glad that she might be spared that. "it means you have a vision for what the best might be. a vision is where it all starts, isn't it?" owen had vision, and for the most part, dacey trusted in it, even though she did not know of any of the north who did not pay the price for it. she hoped that whatever needed be paid for maisie's, it would not be such a steep sacrifice. "you may speak to me anytime you wish, lady mormont. when we are home." in the latter sentence, the meaning was clear - be careful in this place, where even the walls might have ears.

if her self esteem was higher, dacey might have accepted the compliment with more grace than she did. as it was, it flustered her, turning cheeks pink and causing her to shake her head in a tiny gesture, almost too small to notice. "i suppose so," she said, though she had little else to add to the discussion. to her, allowing others to decide her direction was done because the alternative was choosing for herself, and that was too monumental a thing to do.

"that would be lovely." the forest was where she felt closest to the gods, under the shade of the weirwood. she had visited the weirwood of casterly rock, a twisted, ugly thing that filled a cave, and felt suffocated. she longed once more for the godwood of winterfell, nothing above her but the canopy of leaves and the open sky.

"sometimes i think there is no difference," she admitted. "even men who do bad things often have the noblest of reasons. and men who do good can easily become the villain to another."

Maisie quickly realized what Dacey meant and a swelling weight rose in her body. Some women really couldn't stay alive. The memories of grief for each of them, even those she wasn't close to. It wasn't guilt, but perhaps it was the realization that at some point she could be one of them, a victim who didn't even have a chance to fight "But we'd better believe that we'll survive everything that can happen" Mormont's voice was as thin as a thread "If I think I might die one day for being part of all this..." She sighs and puts her hands together, controlling the urge to snap her fingers "I think I'd be held hostage by that feeling and I won't do what I need to do" She bites her lip and shakes her head, pushing it all away "Sorry for venting, I don't usually have anyone to share these things with" She cracks a small smile, trying to show that everything was fine.

"Yes, strong. You have to be strong to keep who you are kind of in the middle of these things, not just anyone could handle such a load, Princess" This was Maisie's thought, it might go against the natural river of people's minds, but allowing important issues in your life to be chosen by others, with the greater good in mind, was as honorable as fighting against the current "I don't think so, you have to be brave to do that and live your life so well, just look at history, some people have caused wars because they wouldn't accept having their lives decided by others? It's not a good example, but I think you get the idea" She frowns, realizing that he may have messed up between words.

"The forest is like a safe home, isn't it? Where we can be without barriers. Maybe, when you get married, you can be lucky enough to live near the forest and have simple little moments, take your children to the riverside" A smile settled on her face, a dreamy look on her face. Maisie knew it was a dream far removed from the reality they both had. For some, being a Lady and especially a Princess, with countless perks and freedoms, but everything had a price to pay over the years.

"I wish I could tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys, but when I try, I get nowhere" She bit her lip, a little afraid to express her true thoughts on the matter. Maisie didn't even think she was good. "Yes, they're good for us, I wish Westeros was full of men like them, maybe all these situations wouldn't exist"

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.