wintervsuns

[wintervsuns]

there was no doubt he were surprised to hear the lady of raventree hall had not yet fully contemplated the shift in political power within the walls of their home; the fact that regardless of age, or experience, there was only one ruling lord of raventree and that was the name all in the riverlands seemed to utter so often these days. "us elderly never truly realise when they're no longer children." he commented, his tone light and jesting, though he mentioned something every older sibling could relate to - the moment of realisation that the youngest of the family was no longer a child to protect.

"they be quick to remind us though, aye?" regardless of her patient observant nature, or the strength and violence that came in the form of an illegitimate brother, ben was ultimately the blackwood that mattered - the sooner they accepted it as being so, the better. perhaps he did make it seem so simple, truer in words than it could ever be in action - was it truly easy, or was it just them as individuals trying to make up any obstacle to make it even harder than it truly has to be?

"it can be as simple as yer be wantin' it to be, maggie." he spoke, his tone warm as he leaned forward to refill a goblet of ale that passed by him; nodding at the serving woman.

this was the most he had spoken to someone other than his own family for weeks; perhaps because in some way, the blackwoods felt like distant kin. he felt for them, and felt a sense of protection over them: the sole worshippers of the old faith in their realm, and how his heart had sunk upon seeing the poisoned branches of their weirwood tree in brief passing during the war. to hear news of them feeling as though they were being increasingly isolated was a dangerous one - no doubt because house bracken would be utilising and taking advantage of such a thing.

"you know his majesty would not fly into some fit of rage for you tryin' to mediate. you are a subject, voicing yer concerns. that be the standard practice, yeah?" brandon asked, almost encouraging her to try to say, or do something about it rather than merely thinking and overthinking. there comes a time where thinking has no use; one needed to act in it's aftermath or it becomes nothing but a pain. "i'd suggest ya start associating yerselves with houses who are clearly not workin' with brackens. who would ya consider respectable in yer realm?"

the lady of raventree wasn't quite sure if there was ever a time where she was told outright not to worry for something, for that seemed to be all she ever did in her life. she wasn't ask to worry for them, either, but it was simply her nature to. she watched over her household, their lands, her siblings as the ravens did from atop the highest of weirwood branches, and she did not expect anything from it, truly. though maggie was beginning to realize she was expecting, hoping, they would not give her reason to feel the need to do so. brows furrowed, almost a look of confusion crossing her features, but it was more her contemplating the advice he had given her.

it were clearly leaning onto the topic of needing to speak to benadict, and to let him guide them on the next steps, to not give input unless it was clearly asked of her. after years of having the say, having the input, it was difficult to let go of, and perhaps it were her own issue of needing to feel in control, especially when things were very much spiraling all around her. "i didn't think of it that way." she admitted, realizing that benny were in fact the one with the final say, and she could not do anything to undermine the authority he needed to uphold.

a gentle laugh left her at his words, it were not that maggie did not have friends, well, she supposed she did not have anyone entirely close to her that were not already kin, she realized, but she found it difficult to find closeness with others beyond polite greetings. she suddenly recalled the sight of the young bracken lass with other ladies, laughing and chattering away, and she had felt jealous at the ease in which the other woman seemed to befriend anyone she crossed. margaret could talk to people, certainly, but it was almost always fleeting conversation, aside from this one. "you make it seem so simple." she remarked, though it were not in a bitter way, almost in a way that she could agree with. it were simple, in reality, and yet it seemed anything but.

margaret paused, though she trusted casimir's judgement, for he were a good man, she felt that he seemed to let things be as they were, which were a good thing, except for when it were good for someone to step in and mediate feuds amongst their court, feuds that could rip apart lands. she were unsure how he would react to any conversation with her, how it would go, but a simple sit down couldn't hurt, could it? "i suppose if there's anything i can do, it is that." she agreed, "i'll be quite honest, it feels like we are sort of in our own corner, at the moment."

#c: margaret #margaret 002

[wintervsuns]

♞

it were obvious that there was something to talk about in the air; something grievous that cassana had missed during her absence, and then the experience she had been forced to live in the hands of the traitors. "you're in no condition to take watch, cass." he responded, his words weary; not only was she malnourished, exhausted and traumatised, he knew that such a surge of emotions could result in her warging to feel safe.

he had learned that the hard way, during a journey which seemed as though it were from another time now.

there was a time where the sun of winter could not fathom a logical reason as to why any would wish to take a stand against the starks; not just for reasons of practicality, but genuine loyalty. now, he realised; the wolf that was the head of the pack was a solo wolf in essence, one who did not lead by the heart. had he ever? had brandon simply been misguided the entire time?

he felt a fool for even speaking about such a thing to cassana, following what had just happened to her: but something always happened to the starks. there was always something, and he believed it for one reason. consequences were lacking consistence, if they were present at all. she pleaded for him to speak to her, and brandon only felt a sense of exhaustion: what was there to say that he had not already said to her before?

had he not already been widowed once, and it seemed as though the gods had blessed him.

"when you warg, or have a vision…whatever it is…." he knew it could be two separate things. sometimes they came together. and he had returned their blessing with a flaming curse, let the flames engulf the ancient faces on the tree. there was desperation in her voice, and brandon wondered if it was because she could feel what had begun in a room, leagues from here. the detachment, the moving away of ancient kin from kin.

"how responsive are you to commands?" he asked, looking at her expression of any hint of the answer before she gave it. "can you be a danger?" he knew the answer to that. brandon had come across cassana in such a state, had all but tried to shake her back to reality; and whilst she had clutched at him, with a grip of ice. was that what had happened? his meera could never have hurt even a fly.

there was a comforting familiarity in the cloak enveloping her, its soft furs embracing her like a warm embrace from home. the scent of it, washed over her. it wasn’t the smell of the war camps and the presence of the umber king. it was remarkable how one could nearly forget such a scent until it enveloped her once more. she clung to the cloak not just for its warmth but because it belonged to brandon. it served as a shield against the sight of the stained white wedding dress, now marred with dirt, and blood.

and soot.

soot from the weirwood tree.

the weirwood tree… was it still aflame? was the face of the gods still watching them through its charred visage? brandon's arrow had struck true, there was no doubt about that. but why? was there no alternative way to save her? or perhaps there was none. and if there was none was it alright to be happy she was saved? was it selfish? was it bad she was grateful he did it if there was no other way? it had saved her from the wedding night. she had called out to the gods for help and something happened.

cass stole a glance at brandon, her friend, her family, and now her savior. they had known each other for too long, spent too many moments together to not sense when something troubled the other. despite his assurances of being fine, she could feel his unrest. there was a stubbornness in his silence, a reluctance to share. it seemed that if she wanted answers, brandon would have to open up himself.

"you can rest if you need. i can take watch for a time." she offered, her heart urging her to reach out to him, to implore him to speak with her. sitting in this silence was going to drive her crazy. there were days of silence just listening to the sounds of the war camp outside. her wrists rubbed raw from the ropes. as she just…waited. and waited. and waited. not knowing what was worse, being alone in her fear. or knowing that if someone came to where she was being held it was only going to bring pain.

speak to me, brandon. please, for the gods' sake, say something

and then finally he broke the silence. it wasn't what she expected, but at this point, she would take anything. In silence, she stood from her seat and moved to sit next to him. perhaps there was a little sense of worry in the pit of her stomach of what he was going to ask. but she took in a deep breath and pulled his cloak further around her. it steadied her. he did, he always had. "ask me anything, brandon. there's something on your mind, i've seen it since we got to the cave. please." she implored, her words tinged with desperation.

please talk to me. please tell me what is on your mind. please.

#c: cassana #cassana 004

[wintervsuns]

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍! check the source or HERE for #382 gifs of 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 as 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 in 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. all gifs were made entirely from scratch by me for roleplaying purposes. please REBLOG this post if you found it useful and check my rules for more info.

#resources.

[wintervsuns]

who: @daceystvrk when and where: kings landing, brandon karstark enters the main gathering hall allocated for the northern court to find a tense, stressed atmosphere. within the middle of the hall is princess dacey stark.

the king's road would be a long journey, venturing through the length of the continent; and yet, the northern court within kings landing had been busying itself. there was a constant bustle of movement in the preparation to depart, for the hour of the wolf had come to an end - northmen did not belong in the south, and each time they did venture south, it was made abundantly clear why they were not supposed to be here.

loyally dedicated men who fought black now looked upon the green dragons, and there was noticeable tension in the air.

"something's off." brandon walked into the room alongside his brother, surrounded by the squires and other men of houses karstark and reed alike: at first glance it appeared as though the hall was just bustling and busy, and yet a second glance revealed more about the situation at hand. there was an issue, it was apparent in the faces of the servants, the way nasir manderly was giving orders to multiple men that surrounded him, and close to him stood the princess dacey stark; he thought of their last interaction and hoped she had not dabbled in what it was he had advised her against.

his brother stepped forward into the crowds, pushing through to enquire from the manderlys about what was happening; there were multiple people lined up giving their statements, as though they were being questioned. the king in the north was nowhere to be seen: though something told him that matter was only more pressing. more of a concern.

brandon himself did not step forward to speak, silently watching his brother instead: and yet, when a familiar gaze turned and looked upon him, he only lowered his head in a show of respect.

it took a moment of hesitation, a moment of wondering whether he ought to even wonder about such a thing: but he followed in the footsteps of his younger brother, parting through the crowds as he approached the princess of the north. the closer he got, the more obvious it was that she was greatly concerned about something. his mind immediately jumped to alysanne, and he felt his stomach twist. "highness." he greeted, his tone weary. trying to read between the lines.

brandon was never good at reading between the lines. had they found alysanne?

#c: dacey #dacey 002

[wintervsuns]

♞

"aye, that's it." brandon called over the sounds of the horses neighing to one another, as though the brotherhood of the sons of karhold was reflected in the animals themselves; brandon placed a gloved hand down upon his own, attempting to calm him from his overly excitable nature, his touch soft, gentle and yet commanding. "been plottin' for years, äiti said i couldn't leave ya in the snow when yer first cursed the halls of karhold."

there was laugher coming from the men as they referred to their mother in the sun tongue ,the ancient tongue of the lands of the karstarks, where the sky danced green.

he said nothing as there was a noticeable longing in the air, and he could almost hear the internal battle happening within the mind of his brother. he said nothing to sway it or interrupt it, only let it take it's natural course as they continued to ride along the king's road, the landscape becoming more and more what they were used to. how thankful he was to feel the cold again, making his furs feel ever more part of him.

he dared to begin to think that aleks had accepted what it was he was going to do; how this was something every second son dreamed of, wanted. that it was a shame what circumstances brought it about, but they were strengthening their house beyond all reasonable doubt. and then the next words came tumbling out, a small chuckle slipped from the lips of brandon, as though he had sensed the air change.

"and what do ya think you were made for then? aye?" brandon asked, his voice stronger as he asked the question. what did aleksander want for his purpose? what did he want for himself? "yer with yer own. we be north folk still, yeah? take it in yer stride. i'll come visit soon."

the light hearted nature continued to hold on to mask something else, and he should always have known such a thing. they came to the parting on the king's road, and brandon briefly looked back at the other men: exchanging goodbyes, rough hugs, promises of seeing one another soon. the karhold household was splitting.

"Ah," Aleks sighed out, overly dramatic as he leaned his head back into his neck and squinted against the sunlight, smacking his lips. He looked back at his brother. "I see it clearly now. You're awfully eager to be rid of me." Their horses fell into a steady rhythm beside one another, nearly at the point where the road would split off.

He wanted nothing more than to continue on with the Karstark retinue, to go back home. Some others were already saying their goodbyes, readying themselves to split off with him. "I knew that someday my drink expenses would catch up with me, but that did not stop me from reachin' for the cups," he joked.

His demeanor was lighter now, almost an attempt to make up for his earlier childish coldness. The goodbye was incoming, inching closer and closer.

Aleks pursed his lips, the grin slipping away. "Bran," he began, cutting himself off and pausing. This was a moment for honesty now, sincerity. In whatever time they had left before their parting. "Bran, I wasn't made for this. M'own Keep, people - I don't know how to be what they.. what they need me to be."

#c: aleksander #aleksander 002 #the winter sun and the winter storm : from the lands where the sky dances green (the brothers of karstark) #warm yourself by the fire brother ; i'll tell you stories of a better time in a place that we once knew (bran&aleks)

[wintervsuns]

♞

many would claim brandon karstark had always been too gentle with his siblings, and it had resulted in the current state of their family: a father who died in the ten year war, leaving brandon to step into the father figure's role too early during a time where even he did not know what he wanted to be. all who knew brandon closely through the years knew his initial desperation to leave behind his claim to karhold, and serve the realm: donning furs of black and standing guard at the wall.

"where?" brandon asked, the question mostly rhetorical. "if ya can pick someone else, tell me. where are they?" his question was not blunt, but allowed for a seeping realisation to come between them. there was nobody else. they were the last ones standing. "i'll speak to 'em myself."

he thought it pitiful, for their most important line of defence to be filled with the likes of murderers, drunks and rapists - how he had wanted to fix it all. but how could he have left them? even now, in this moment, the sun of winter found himself knowing there was no use in becoming angrier, using a voice that was harsh and losing his patience with aleks. there was a time and place for such things, and he could tell by the response the denial came not from a place of malice, but of ignorance.

"i've let yer remain in yer ways, aleks. i've understood yer be wishin' to make a path of yer own." in his shadow. brandon was entirely aware of his brother's comfort in his shadow; it was easier to get away with nonsense in the darkness. "there be none other but you i trust with this." one would claim the just nature brandon karstark used with his siblings was what he hoped to someday have toward his own children with the lady of greywater watch…and how that had been ripped away from him.

"but it's time now, yeah?" there was no further explanation to his words as he reached forward to take a drink of his ale.

Aleksander froze, that piece of bread still squished between two fingers but now entirely unmoving. He willed the shaking to stop, but there was still a slight tremble.

I am sayin it is for you to take Greywater Watch.

Another, someone more grown up and mature, might have felt joy now. The opportunity to prove oneself right at the fingertips, on a silver platter for the taken. The opportunity to set out of an eldest brother's shadow.

Only, Aleksander was quite comfortable in Brandon's shadow. Their line had been colored by so much loss, he was grateful for the shade, for the reminder that there was still someone whose back he could guard. The storm of winter had never been the best guard, but he had good intentions. At least, he tried.

Yet, he was not mature. He was not grown up. And so, in response, a sharp pang of panic shot through his limbs. "You're right, brother, y'cannot be in three places at once," Aleks agreed, and he despised how shaky his voice grew. "But I find it hard to be just in one place sometimes. Isn't there anybody better? Anybody?"

He didn't want to leave. He did not want to leave the last person in his family left. The gods only knew what might happen if Aleks wasn't right by his brother's side, and they had never been the lucky kind.

#c: aleksander #aleksander 001 #the winter sun and the winter storm : from the lands where the sky dances green (the brothers of karstark) #warm yourself by the fire brother ; i'll tell you stories of a better time in a place that we once knew (bran&aleks)

[wintervsuns]

For the lovely @ottohight0wer who requested an Arnolf Karstark edit!

ADWD – Jon I

Arnolf Karstark was the late Lord Rickard's uncle. He had been made the castellan of Karhold when his nephew and his sons went south with Robb, and he had been the first to respond to King Stannis's call for homage, with a raven declaring his allegiance.

ADWD – Jon IV

“I am […] inclined to bestow Winterfell upon Arnolf Karstark. A good northman."

"A northman." Better a Karstark than a Bolton or a Greyjoy, Jon told himself, but the thought gave him little solace.

[…]

"Arnolf Karstark is an old man with a crooked back, and even in his youth he was never the fighter Lord Rickard was. The rigors of the campaign may well kill him."

[…] Arnolf Karstark writes that the storms have been fierce upon the narrow sea. […] I must consider White Harbor lost to me. […] I can only hope to win the north by battle.”

ADWD – Reek III

"Stannis must march or lose them … and being the careful commander that he is, he will summon all his friends and allies when he marches. He will summon Arnolf Karstark."

Ramsay licked his chapped lips. "And we'll have him."

ADWD – The Prince of Winterfell

Arnolf Karstark awaits only a sign from Lord Bolton before he turns his cloak […].

ADWD – Jon IX

"Your uncle … would that be Lord Arnolf?"

"He is no lord," Alys said scornfully. "My brother Harry is the rightful lord, and by law I am his heir. A daughter comes before an uncle. Uncle Arnolf is only castellan.”

[…] "Arnolf is rushing to Winterfell, 'tis true, but only so he might put his dagger in your king's back. He cast his lot with Roose Bolton long ago … for gold, the promise of a pardon, and poor Harry's head. Lord Stannis is marching to a slaughter."

#house karstark ; the sun of winter.

[wintervsuns]

♞

"it's alright to turn of that mind of yers from time to time lass, and know when something ain't for you to deal with." brandon spoke, his words earnest and genuine, despite the roughness that wrapped around each of his words: it was not exactly the quietest of voices, and that was merely his natural tone. he put the goblet of ale down on the small circular table that remained between them, a hand resting on his full beard; it appeared as though many of the issues margaret blackwood was dealing with, were matters that stemmed from her own overthinking nature.

truthfully, he wanted to remind her that she was still a young woman, and her siblings were no longer children: she had spent the majority of her youth playing mother, and she should be enjoying what she has left. but he did not, because he found that was not his place to do so. problems could arise because of genuine circumstances, but problems that seem just as dire could also arise because the mind was a powerful thing.

"bein' support is more than enough, knowin' he could come and rant, or ask for advice, or just want to break fast wit ya. you, lass, don't got to do anything. frankly, ya shouldn't - you'd be underminin' yer lord brother." doing nothing, was one of the hardest things for any human: the idea that one would need to stand aside and watch the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, and be unable to do something themselves.

"yer got a life of yer own, and i don't just mean in the run up to whatever man marries you. i mean now." he did not know much of maggie blackwood on a personal level, but young girls in the south should do such things … things like meeting with their friends, and drinking tea, and having fun. things they could look back at when their hair was grey and the world had changed around them. "only person yer'll be wantin' to speak to is yer king, and that be to remain in good favour. lucky for you, tullys take kin seriously." there was a double meaning to his words.

families. he had stated, and maggie knew she were eternally grateful for the one she had, despite the feuds and the inner conflict, the damage that decisions had caused, the long war keeping them separated, but yet they always found their way back. perhaps this was a place the eldest lady of raventree felt most troubled, soon they would be separated again, with herself and merindah having their own households to watch over one day. it were not that she didn't think ben capable - he was capable, but she feared not being there when he did seek her guidance. though she supposed that was precisely why having a lady wife by his side would ease such a burden.

"it is hard to not dwell on the 'what if' of it all." the lady stated plainly. poor timing and choice were certainly ways to put it, and if she did not come to grips with her own mind she would replay the sequence of events over and over. and now? now she felt entirely clueless on how to proceed. maggie knew much of what was to come, needed to from benadict, from their king who certainly had decisions to make regarding the hand's future.

hints of a smile perked up at the corners of her lips as she let out a let laugh. indeed the riverlands had both short term and long term memories, this mistake would not be forgotten so soon, if ever, but there was no doubt another would misstep, and ire would turn towards them. "i hate i've found myself in a place where i hope for such a day." she shook her head, never had margaret blackwood been one to wish another would fail, no matter who they were, really. truthfully, she did not want that, she only hoped there was a day where ben could try to make his amends, and he would be heard.

eyes flickered back towards the northern lord as he spoke of tensions between houses. it were certain not something maggie were a stranger to - the longstanding feud between house blackwood and house bracken had practically been drilled into her mind since she were a young girl, only further stained with the blood of both houses spilled by the other during the dance. "no, we cannot." she murmured after a beat of silence, taking time to think deeply about the prospect of another longstanding feud.

it were not a feud that begun from enemies, but from great friends - ben and qorban mooton had been lads as far as she had known. margaret understood the fury of the lord of maidenpool, and she truthfully had little clue how benadict intended to speak to the man of it. "i suppose it is where i truly feel helpless." she admitted with an exasperated sigh. "i do not know if my words would be heard. i do not know how to help benny bridge that conversation." hands fell to her lap now, fingers mindlessly running over the silk of her dress as if to ground herself. "it's difficult, not having the answers, ya know?"

#c: margaret #margaret 002

[wintervsuns]

Greywater Watch, is no castle you've ever seen. And seeing it once does not mean you'll ever find it again. For Greywater Watch... moves. — Meera Reed

; Themes

Muddy Waters — LP Bottom of the River — Delta Rae

; History

Greywater Watch, also known as Greywater, is the former seat of House Reed in the North. Following the death of Lady Meera Karstark née Reed, Lord Aleksander Karstark was declared ruling lord.

It is roughly located in an eastern headwater of the Green Fork in the swamps of the Neck, southwest of Moat Cailin. It is a castle built upon a crannog, one of the man-made floating islands of the swamps, and it does not stay in the same place, making it impossible for ravens or enemies to find.

Before the arrival of Lord Karstark, there was no maester present in the castle, nor any knights or masters-at-arms. Those positions were eventually filled.

Yet, even with the lacking defenses within the castle, it is near impenetrable. The surrounding terrain is difficult to traverse, and it is said that anyone marching on the castle was bested by the surroundings, the heaviness of armor working with the swamps to claim the lives of many enemy soldiers.

; Surroundings

Greywater is surrounded by a treacherous bog and rivers that look far more shallow than they are. Trodden paths lead through the surrounding woods, winding and confusing for anyone who does not know their way.

The castle is built on a man made island. Connected to the island are several much smaller islands, tethered by multiple thick, fortified ropes. On those small bits of land are watchtowers, overtaking most of said land. Lord Karstark implemented additional security measures, by having soldiers circle the island on boats in varying shifts.

; Location

The North / Green Fork / The Neck

; Government

( Formerly House Reed ) House Karstark, Feudal Lord

; Ruler

Lord Aleksander Karstark

; Religion

Old Gods

; Population

The inhabitants of the castle and the surrounding villages are named crannogmen.

— Before Lord Karstark‘s arrival 95 — After Lord Karstark‘s arrival 163

; The Castle

The island is encased in large, uneven walls which are thick and have withstood a variety of weather conditions as well as attacks past. Greywater Watch itself does not hide behind its tall walls, but instead rises out of persistent fog with three towers varying in size. The largest contains a library right at the top, holding a vast range of books regarding the surroundings written by educated travelers and inhabitants. A large window covers one side of the tower’s wall, overlooking the bog and the tops of the trees. At times, it is the only thing peeking out of the fog. For long, the library has gone unused. With the new arrival of a maester, that has since changed.

Connecting the highest of tower with another is the great hall and above, the lord‘s living quarters, as well as many more empty rooms originally meant for a much larger family.

Furthermore, there are stables, a spacious courtyard, a hut for a blacksmith as well as crammed, smaller houses belonging to the other inhabitants of the castle. The second tower holds quarters for guests. And, in the third of the Towers, the soldier‘s quarters are located. Above, right at the top, flocks of ravens are housed, though most of the cages are empty. Since the castle moves, ravens rarely return.

On the northern edge of the castle is the God‘s Wood with a proud Heart Tree. The thick roots wind all over, creating uneven and sometimes tricky ground to walk on. The tree‘s roots are a large part of what stabilizes the island. There are whispers among the inhabitants of the island, that perhaps someday, the roots of the Heart Tree will grow enough to tether the island to the ground, giving Greywater Watch a permanent home.

#c: aleksander #c: meera

[wintervsuns]

♞

the mention of the missing princess did nothing but cause him to further feel the need to find himself departing from this very situation; merely judging by her comment, it was painfully obvious that the news beginning to spread beyond the neck and across the other courts. once again, the north and their turbulent nature would be the main source of conversation over the dinner table, and brandon found some deep animalistic urge within him that wanted to flip over something in his vicinity.

"hm." came his words, a sense of ire deep within them - not directed at the woman in question, but rather at the fact of w hat he had been confronted with. the fact it was now out. because as she uttered such words, it became painfully obvious that it would never end: that even if, by his breaking from the side of the king of winter he sought to distance himself from it all, his legacy was being the warmth of the north.

"there is an ongoing investigation, as far as i have heard." he reported, feeling his hands clasp together in the way they always did when he was ready to leave a situation.

the right hand of the king. and now, he found himself needing to rework, and wipe that away. there came a time where he would have tried to lie and offer some other explanation for the absence of the princess, report that she had travelled back to the north to deal with some emergency that was growing and needed her urgent attention - but how would that make sense when the king himself remained? remained, in the court of a king he detested greatly.

"should you hear of the whereabouts of princess alysanne of house stark, you would do well to report directly to his grace, king owen." there was no denying the fact that at times, it felt like the hour of the wolf had come again: to see the northmen within kings landing, though now, there had once again been a painfully obvious change. and he could leave, if he wanted to, at the end of the day. but the velaryons could not. how would they learn to navigate such treacherous waters? a dornish woman had also apparently gone missing, the very same day - did people often vanish from kings landing?

"is this normal, for the city?" brandon asked, half wondering whether the question was stupid in itself. of course, the vanishing of a princess was not normal anywhere - but there was no denying that kings landing was a city that had an underbelly of darkness and corruption. "is it men who do such things, or other forces?" his other option remained vague, for he wanted to see whether she would pick up on what he meant.

Northmen don't belong here. No, that was true. Lord Karstark- Brandon- looked like some wild animal that had found itself indoors. He stood at odds with the surroundings; it was easier to see him and his kin in their home than it was here. That he was comfortable expressing that made Aerea oddly jealous. He could say what he would and be protected under guest rights. He could be uncomfortable in King's Landing because he was not tied to it; because it did not hold something he still wanted. And he could hate Jaehaerys as his King did, because there were not layers and layers of Targaryen family drama to hold him in place. 

One day soon he could leave, as Aerea could not. 

It was easier to speak of things that troubled the Karstarks and the North, easier to focus on that as if they were solvable problems. 

"A certain princess has not been seen in some time. Whether she hides or has gone missing, I do not know." Alys Stark. There were many reasons she could still be at home, merely reclusive. Why would she leave? Aerea held no answers. 

"I'm sure she is missed, wherever she may be." Missing, going, gone. Aerea took another sip of her wine, eyed the way that Brandon towered over her but felt no intimidation from him just yet. They had been allies during the war, her family and his, but men still held the power in Jaehaery's little kingdom. 

#c: aerea #aerea 001 #oops got long my bad

[wintervsuns]

♞

it were not as though the ruling lord of the twins was incorrect in the stance he seemed to take whilst sat opposite the sun of winter, though brandon believed what he did not say said far more. there was an inherent sense of smugness that came with the man, as though he believed that being physically higher than the rest in his towers had manifested in terms of his place in society. brandon karstark did not know the logistics of the riverland court, who was known for what, but the growing animosity between house frey and house tully was no secret.

a part of him wondered how was it declan frey was even still able to have a head to make his remarks from, considering he was known to be an opponent of the king.

his face remained expressionless as he looked toward the man, the smallest of words indicating toward a much larger people; sadly. it was all too obvious that the frey believed the freys, and their people, had been a nuisance and a burden upon his doorstep - one he needed to look down at and see, filled with disgust. his obvious sense of importance did not sit quite well with brandon karstark, and he found that as every passing moment seemed to go by, it was increasingly obvious that there was going to be an issue between the two men.

"aye, which be the reason why he won't be travellin'. he'll be stayin." his voice was rough, and some may assume his words were almost taunting - but his northern bluntness only showed here, more than usual. there did not have to be, but there would be; and brandon, for all his cohesive nature, was not one to stand down the rights of people that were now his own. brandon sat back slightly in his chair, leaning forward to take hold of the casket of ale and pouring himself a drink from it, wordlessly asking the frey whether he too wanted a drink.

"what are ya waitin' patiently for?" brandon asked, taking a deep swig of his own goblet of ale. still, he preferred it over the more sophisticated tastes of wine, and he would not find himself drinking the harder stuff in the company he was in. "ya have yer own problems, do you not? least of yer concerns is what a northman does on his lands." unless, was the word he left out from the end of that statement. unless declan frey meant to ensure that the status quo he had set out would not now be disrupted. "ya care not for their bloody customs man."

the conflict between house frey and house reed was a long one, and known to many. the men of house frey were proud rivermen, a part of the cloverfolk of the riverlands. even when the other houses looked down at the lords of the crossing, proud of their ancient towers and history books dating back to the age of heroes, no one in the kingdom could deny the importance of the twins. theirs was the single most important monument. the wall between the north and the south, with house frey controlling everything that passed the trident.

and what were the reeds? lords who ruled over swamps, and the creatures that inhabited their lands. crannogmen, the maesters called them, but declan knew them under another title - frogeaters and mudmen. the current lord of the crossing grew up with stories of what they could do. living in huts, choosing to fish and hunt instead of cultivating the land, smearing their spears with poison. and the more sinister things - breathing under water, more frog that human. and their overlords were almost as unsettling as their subjects.

declan knew little of meera reed. the most interesting thing about the woman was her demise. he didn't know for certain what occurred, but rumors spread like wildfire. her death was unnatural, as was her entire domain. and now house frey was left with the aftermath, with no questions answered, and an ominous ghost so close to their borders.

"aye," the lord of the crossing replied, lord karstark sitting just across him. a distant kin of the starks he was. if the stark kin in the riverlands were any measure, this man could not handle what was given to him. but unlike the blackwoods, an untarnished reputation preceeded brandon karstark. so why would a smart man involve himself with the likes of the reeds? the land was not worth it, and neither were the people. and to be honest, declan did not want him so near to his seat.

"i know that much, lord karstark. ye can spot the mudmen from the twins. sadly." he answered, leaning his head on one hand. he would not be outright hostile to the northern lord, be he could not be welcoming. they had only replaced one enemy with another, and this they did not know well.

he kept quiet, as the northern lord talked of support. he was beginning to dislike this meeting, and the lord giving half-truths. lords of the north coming down from their ice castles to rule. what did they know of swamps and mudmen? they wouldn't be able to control them. and the border with the riverlands would suffer in turn.

"it's a long way to travel, from karhold to greywater watch," declan spoke, leaning towards the table separating the two men. "and what does lord aleksander know of the crannogs and the swamps he'll rule over. does he share blood with the reeds? know their customs? or do we wait patiently until he learns the ropes?"

#c: declan #declan 001

[wintervsuns]

♞

"but ya cannot be blamed for it, either way. 'tis the reason the gods made families; meant to remain together." there came some relief in knowing that the lady in question herself did not seem overly offended; for whilst brandon was not the most polished in such ways of southern etiquette and pamphlets that swirled with gossip, he was aware of the fact that if the person who had been offended could see past the matter, then it was entirely probable that the matter could die down.

"it meant to be hard for ya. would be an issue if ya felt nothing for it."

"poor timin' and poor choice." brandon commented, considering even he had come across the high commander of the reach before. back over a year ago, where the man appeared wretched: the last time he had seen the man, had been in the freezing snow, where he appeared to be close to wasting away. that had seemingly all changed now, alongside making a choice of who to marry - brandon knew and understood all too well, what effect a strong, steady love between husband and wife could have on a man.

the thought caused a pang in the depths of his stomach, how he found himself feeling as though he had been cut loose - the pain of missing her, and being without her, was overwhelming. it was numbing. he almost did not hear the words of the lady of raventree hall, and rather, he found himself desperately trying to ignore the tightening in his chest, and the growing lump at the back of his throat. the grief came in crushing waves, and at this moment, he found his hands clasped together upon his knees within the furs that draped over him.

he found himself wondering how it was he would never look up and see her in the corner of a room again, desperate to slip away from whatever festivities he was enjoying. "give it time. someone else'll do somethin' stupid and it'll be all we hear about for however long until someone else makes a fuck up." he reached forward for his goblet of ale, bringing it to his lips in one swig, not going to apologise for his words and his choice of language. all knew of the roughness of north men, and after all, it was not ben attempting to make a comment to a married woman that was the issue.

it was the timing, and the thread of responsibility that had been drawn between the attack, to ben. "the gossip ain't much yer concern as the tensions between houses be." he responded, looking at maggie, his gaze honest. he merely nodded humbly at her words, happy to sit across from a woman who was essentially a friend due to he proximity of their families. he had known ben for years, and the woman had been graceful enough not to make a large matter out of the northern hound who was close to puling her into the mud back in the reach.

"yer feud with the brackens ain't going anywhere. but can ya really risk havin' one with the mootons too?"

perhaps it took the voice of reason that seemed to be the embodiment of the man across from her to truly get past the wall of thoughts she put between herself and anyone who would speak of ben. maggie listened, of course, more than most may be aware, but there was always an inwardly overbearing sense of protectiveness of her brother, who went to war a boy and returned from war just a much, in her eyes. it did not mean she thought less of him, only that, he never had a chance to truly be a boy that grew into a man, rather forced to endure the weights that a man must carry, so young.

head gave a gentle nod, fingers tapping rhythmically on the cup her hands wrapped around for the warmth emitted from the liquid within. brandon karstark was right, entirely, and wise, but the lord himself sounded weary, not at the subject, just in general. the lady of raventree felt the urge to hear him, too, but ultimately, she hesitated.

“i did speak to her, after the fact.” she answered, “she did not seem so angered, but perhaps she was showing me a kindness. i do not think there was any malice, here, just poor timing.” margaret disliked speaking on the intentions of others, but she tried to make sense of the order of events, too. “it’s hard to see him like this, well, he is okay, strong and perfectly ben, but it is hard to watch him face this and struggle, i suppose.” of course, that was just a fact of life.

“no, one is not foolish for one mistake, you are right there.” perhaps it was those words she really needed to hear, after all. maggie found herself thinking it, too, but her own frustrations had blinded her, though there were not one moment where one would say she turned on ben, not one.

despite the catastrophic events that occurred, there was a glimmer of what the future could hold, like sunlight peeking through a cracked velvet curtain. though the weight felt heavy, too, on her shoulders, perspective allowed it to lift somewhat, and focus on ben’s new vision - a focus on trade and prosperity.

“you are very kind, lord karstark.” she stated, a genuine warmth to her words as she offered the man a smile. “i appreciate the different point of view. i tend to get stuck in my own.” margaret stated, taking a sip from her cup, hazel hues glancing around the room. “and i’m sure benadict appreciates it, too.”

#c: margaret #margaret 002

[wintervsuns]

♞

things that had happened before, were the words that were quietly uttered by the lady of raventree hall; and there was no need to ask for specifics regarding what it was she was alluding to. all knew the rumours, and the facts, that swirled regarding house blackwood - the matter of responsibility being discussed, and extent of which it could be placed upon ben's shoulders as an individual. the whole matter seemed like a massive question mark, for in the north, word was word. regardless of circumstances, there were others that matters could be discussed with.

even if the conversation with the lady of the arbor went as smooth as a sinking ship, were the riverlands and the reach not tied together in alliance? did it truly take one woman's ego to be wounded for the entirety of their good nature to be put to the side? "y'know i ain't one for this southern pride thing, lass." brandon commented, leaning forward to speak in a quieter tone, though it did nothing to change the roughness which was the accent that wrapped around each of his words.

"you spoken with the lady?"

"does making a mistake necessarily mean one is foolish?" brandon asked, his question a genuine one, rather than trying to act as though he was constantly offering her a counter to her points. his throat cleared slightly, momentarily falling more quiet as passers by moved across from them: for whilst she had trusted him enough to speak to him about the matter, he would not voice matters before others.

"there is no denying he is younger comparin' him with the other rulin' lords, but ben is a man." all knew that in westeros, children were only children for a tragically short period of time - and ben blackwood had been one for even shorter than that.

"it's because he be a man grown, and not a boy, that people be sayin' so much." all knew that ben blackwood had tried to feed the riverlands, and if one lived long enough, they always saw themselves become the enemy. the hero always need be tainted. he let out an exhale now, looking at the caring hazel hues that were half masked by ringlets of fire.

"it'd be best for him to get through dis, how i'm sure he be wantin' to. facin' it head on, and utilising the strengths of yer house. yer blood, is a strength should ya use it. the both of you." he understood that ben's mother was lyseni, and his betrothal choice was something he found himself wondering about. did it mean more than it appeared to at face value? "there be little use in defending. the damage be done. time to get up now."

the perspective of the man before her intrigued her, for while maggie fully understood what he stated, it had not occurred to her before the words were spoken to her from the mouth of another. having ben upon the council of the river court was entirely a natural step, for they were connected with house tully rather closely, only, she also believed that earning one's place was also necessary too, preparing for it, being brought up into it, ben was smart, but maggie only knew of his tactics upon the field of battle, and not necessarily within the household, as that was her duty for so long.

perhaps it were in that in some small way, she struggled to relinquish her rule over house blackwood - it did not come from a place of ambition, or doubt in ben, but perhpas over protectiveness, of pride in the work she had long put into their home, and she would continue to, in some manner, until it were time for her to put that work into another household upon marriage. "a catch." she murmured, an airy laugh softly escaping her at the words, though there were not necessarily humor in them. "yes, benadict is most loyal, as i am sure you know, and have witnessed. i know he will take that charisma into whatever duties are bestowed upon him."

the lady leaned slightly back into her seat, the flickering candlelight casting shadows upon her features, strands of red tresses brightening and darkening intermittently. "he would, i know he would." she nodded in agreement, though voice gave way to the exasperation she felt in the entire ordeal. "he just…he gets that from everyone else, too. i do not want him to think i believe he's a foolish boy…though…" she scoffed, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in a moment of humor. "he is, sort of." gaze turned downwards at her cup, a beat of silence for a brief moment. "but things have happened that cannot be undone."

she took a sip of the liquid again, fearing if she lingered too long on that topic she would not be able to maintain her composure. "what would you do, lord brandon, if you were me?" margaret questioned, then thought a moment. "or rather, if you were him, what would you want to hear?"

#c: margaret #margaret 002

[wintervsuns]

♞

such was the reality when there was fracture between stark and karstark; those, even not present in the room or the situation to begin with, find themselves dragged into it by the startling realisation of great change. brandon did not consider himself any mightier than the other great lords of the north, his roots remaining humble regardless of the power he found himself having. there was much power in being hand of the king, but greater power still when it was a man that was trusted; beyond all reasonable measures and scope.

"probably not, princess." he responded, his harsher accent wrapping around each of his words still: the karhold accent was thicker and rougher sounding than the other parts of the country. that, added to his towering nature and his strength, painted a picture of brandon karstark that was not entirely true. he would not involve himself in matters of dark magic for the sake of the starks...not again. 'you may want to start with the court widsom." the men who replaced maesters in owen stark's north.

even in the feeling of being blindsided and betrayed, cast aside like dust to the wind, he understood entirely that it was not the responsibility of the princess that stood before him. families needed to stand side by side, and despite the ongoing conflict and tension that came in the new chapter of their family's long association, there was not a part of him that thought to somehow take it out on the woman who stood before him.

and yet, that did not mean he would find himself doing more than what was expected: it his the hope of every family that their king finds a trusted companion, one who would sacrifice his own life to save the other, one who sought for the stability of the realm rather than his own personal advancement. and still, brandon did not consider that the princess may be feeling a sense of worry or apprehension regarding the power vacuum that has been left in brandon's absence: he only continued to stand before her.

at the mention of there being something he was holding back, his dark grey gaze flickered upward to meet her own eyes. there was indeed something he was holding back, something of far greater detail; and yet, he chose to keep it firmly to himself rather than disclose any further information about what happened that night. it was unlike him to do, and yet, with the new walls that had been built up and circled him, he knew it was for the best.

he would not disclose what he had found alysanne doing one night, for the last thing he would have, is one thread of responsibility being linked to karstark and karhold alike.

there was no reaction to words of trust, apart from a nod of his head, and his hands remaining clasped together before his own furs. he did not know whether or not she should trust him - it felt as though, for the first time in a long time, he did not know what his purpose was. he did not know if he could even trust himself. "was already at the door, princess." he responded, again, his words almost brushing off the small words of sentiment that no doubt seemed to come from the princess. she was the picture of grace, of the blue rose of the north: it was only expected.

his mind remained on her reluctance to tell owen. gods knew he would be furious when finally informed, for not knowing the entirety of the facts. a part of him wished to open his mouth and remind her again, of the importance of the king knowing the full picture. but he did not. instead, his bowed his head slightly, before raising to his full height. "i'm due to be spendin' the next month at my seat." almost as though to tell her, he no longer wanted to be involved in this conversation. in this subject. not when he was home. home was sacred.

how he longed to see the green lights dance over the sky, and watch the sun do it's dance once again. how it mad everything feel as though nothing at all had changed. "may you get the answers you be seekin." he waited for her to dismiss him.

a stab of guilt twisted at dacey’s gut when she looked at him. he was already a man burdened - you did not have to possess any great level of empathy to take note of that, and here she was, bringing more struggles to his door. she should have left him alone, should have found another source for the answers she sought.

but then, would anybody else be able to grant them? who else, if not brandon karstark? not for the first time, worry sparked in her, an uncertainty of what they would do without him when his presence in the stark’s lives had been so constant for so long, but that was something to turn over later, when she was alone without the distraction of standing in front of him.

they were speaking as plainly as dacey knew how, but there was still so much that wasn’t said - by her, and certainly by brandon. they were avoiding the inevitable conversation. she wasn’t sure if that would ever be addressed between them, if it was even her place to. it was an unscalable wall, and she wasn’t mentally prepared to climb it. she would not be the one to reopen wounds that had not yet begun to heal.

“no.” she agreed. “not in the way my sister was.” but there was a fundamental difference between alysanne and dacey. where the elder of the two invited such things, dacey was seeking to put an end to it. to rid winterfell of everything dark and dangerous, and hope that was enough. she didn’t know much, but she could not rid herself of the suspicion that doing so would not be the simple task he was posing it as.

she took a breath, small, but audible, as though steeling herself to say something she didn’t want to. “but i do want to be rid of all the things she’s left behind. i don’t think that will be so simple as casting them upon the fire.” she looked at him, half a moment away from begging him to tell her that she was wrong.

it wasn’t in dacey’s nature to lead the charge when trouble presented itself. she could scarcely remember the last time she had been involved in matters of the kingdom, save for her quiet, steadfast support. but times were changing, and she was tired. too much had been lost, and the eyes of those she would normally trust to handle things like this were either turned elsewhere or gone forever. and so, it fell to her, the wolf who had never found her howl nor bite.

she heard his warning, considered it, then nodded. “there’s something you’re holding back.” it was a statement of fact, devoid of confrontation, spoken with nothing but concern. “and i understand. i don’t expect…” she trailed off, mind racing to find the right words. “i trust you.” any bad blood between stark and karstark would not find root in dacey stark. perhaps it should have been easier for her to put distance between them, when more of it existed to begin with than with owen or alys or cassana, but that wasn’t so. “and i’m sorry. for bringing this to your door.”

#c: dacey #dacey 001

[wintervsuns]

♞

he found no insult in her natural assumption that brandon himself could have provided more light on the complexities of what it was they were beginning to wade through, a pool whose water had long since darkened and was far deeper than either of them could thoroughly grasp and understand. his hand moved to rest on the side of his neck with a low exhale, a movement he often did when he found himself thinking, and thinking, and then overthinking.

there would be no way the princess, or any living soul, would be able to encounter the associate that alysanne had found herself working closely with - and the reason why came not from differences within their class, title or rank. the reason why, was because that woman no longer was able to speak, or be, anything.

a part of him knew wished to address something, the obvious space in the room: the obvious matter which needed to be discussed when the names stark and karstark came together in a sentence within these months. even the lowest at court had heard the news of the king obtaining a new hand, and the sun of winter no longer sat upon the council at all: that, paired with aleksander's noticeable storminess he showed toward the majority of starks, truly set the scene before any who had any questions.

"hm." came his only response regarding what was right, and what was wrong. even after everything, he still believed entirely in the concepts - that all humans knew the difference between what was right, and what was wrong. he hoped she did not address what it was she seemed to dance around, with a tone and a poise so elegant it appeared as though she could have been some blue rose, plucked from the rolling fields of the reach or the banks of the trident, and forced to withstand the harsh snows of the far north.

he remained stood with both of his hands clasped before his furs, half expecting the conversation to come to an end, for her to offer him dismissal. and for him to be able to let out the breath he kept caged deep within his chest. and then she uttered the words which made his grey gaze go from utterly aloof, to his usual gaze. a flicker of the sun of winter, a flicker of recognition. "yer not desperate enough to engage in such matters." he responded, his tone far curter and more informal than it had been some moments previously.

the last thing he needed, was a princess of the north going poking her head in the matters of various woods witches, following a conversation with him. the last thing he needed, was more being traced back to him. no, he was no longer the hand of the king, but gods knew he would have no trouble in going to owen directly and informing him of what seeds were being planted here. "yer right. she ain't here to stop." he heard the sounds of his boots crunching beneath his feet again, the sound of an ancient tongue coming from the lips of the princess - the sight of her eyes going white, then black, and the blood seeping from her nose. he had stopped her then. was he to blame for this?

"alysanne knew her stuff, and still, she found herself…" his voice trailed, as though he were hinting at the obvious. somewhere deep within his gut, he knew she was dead: knew she was no longer breathing. he could still hear her laugher from across the table. "if the line ain't for crossin', then i advise you. do not cross it."

"easy enough, yes," there was a glimpse of a smile, tired and heavy and devoid of any real amusement. "but not right." brandon had been a guiding light for the starks for a long time ; so long that it was difficult to think of him as anything but infallible, someone who held answers where they were needed. he was not that anymore, nor did she imagine he wanted to be, but old habits died hard.

"i'm sure there are." finding answers would not be the issue, she expected, but finding answers from people she trusted was another matter entirely. it wasn't that she was cynical. if anything, she was naïve, offering more goodwill than was deserved at times, but the list of people she could trust dwindled by the day. she was certain brandon would understand that. you could not go through something like what he had faced and not lose some of your ability to trust.

the facts as dacey understood them were this: alysanne, whether with the best of intentions or not, had dabbled in things best left untouched. alysanne was gone, and there were no clues to unravel, no leads to follow, and no indication she would ever return. alysanne had left behind her remnants of what, in dacey's eyes, was a dire mistake, and the only thing she could do was ensure nobody else had to pay the price for it.

"then i suppose i know where i should start," there was a resigned sort of acceptance in her voice, as though she'd rather be doing anything else but that, and that was because she would. "assuming her associates will make themselves known to me." she had no idea how to circumnavigate that particular snag, but she would cross that bridge when it came to it.

at the mention of jon, something in her seemed to shift. her back stiffened, an anger uncharacteristic to dacey crossing her face. "we were all desperate." what had happened had broke something in dacey, perhaps beyond repair. she understood desperation, but this she could not condone. "there are still lines that should not be crossed. are not meant to be crossed." she understood her view of the world wasn't the norm, too idealistic, to unrealistic, especially for the north, but if this was the depths they were willing to stoop to, did that make them any better than those they would call enemies?

there was logic in what he was saying, but something tugged at the back of dacey's mind anyway. perhaps it was simply the fact she was born with all the caution other starks lacked, too much of it. she'd never been one for kicking a hornet's nest - and the situation at winterfell had never felt so complex. "was," she repeated, more of a musing than anything else.

"yes," she had to concede that, if nothing else, owen would want to know. "and yet you know all you have told me, and don't know if he does. which means you haven't told him, either." it was not an accusation, her words as gentle as they had been since the moment she entered the room. "and i understand our reasons may be different," she added. "but what good would it do? he can't stop her. she isn't here to stop."

#c: dacey #dacey 002

[wintervsuns]

♞

there had been a time where such meaningless conversation was no major disturbance to the sun of winter: where such moments where invited and received with warmth, for as much as he held a great sense of pride in what it was to be northern, he detested the notion that the northern folk were somehow lesser people in being equated to having a lack of genuine respect. and yet, when the distantly familiar features of lady velaryon approached him, he found himself wishing he had departed far sooner from this bustling hall.

it was not hard to hear the sounds of the king of the north's wild laughter, and there came a sense of bitter angry at the very back of his head: the awareness of it unsettled him to his very core.

he found the drunken spiral he seemed to go into as respectful as it was to spit in his face: a core reason as to why he found himself unmoved in the other's presence. "m'lady." he greeted, his northern accent wrapping around each of his words in a way which made his words sound far harsher than they actually were. "find no personal fault in it. northmen don't belong 'ere." it was hardly a secret that the king of winter despised the dragon king; and always had done.

even brandon, at mention of how lovely the new dragon king was, merely stilled. his dark grey gaze looked up at the lady of house velaryon, whose family had too fought beneath the banner of black: as though to tell her she need not lie to him, not here. she had told him she had heard troubling things, and a part of him resisted the urge to scoff darkly into his goblet of ale. instead he lowered it, raising to his feet; how he towered still, just as he had done all those years ago.

the mention of his family no doubt was a sore subject; a wound, which had infected and festered. there was no stitching it, there was no saving it - there was no way any of it would ever be okay again. and he was still figuring out what that looked like. "tell me what yer've heard and there'll be answers."

Aerea tired of the festivities, of the endless joy that seemed too natural in some, too forced in others. She no longer maintained a pretense of happiness, instead choosing stoicism through every event and every dinner that social niceties demanded she attend. When it was all over, she did not know what she would choose- to return to Driftmark and live in a place that seemed too empty now, or to continue to be haunted by memories here. King's Landing did not feel safe, but it was better to live amongst the danger than it was to wait for it to come for her in the night. 

A familiar face among the thinned crowds that night, though not one she had seen in years. Aerea had been to the North but once, when she still had a dragon and travel had been easier. Her place had never been there, unlike her cousin, and though she enjoyed the visit she found it too cold and too strange to have any desire to stay for long. But they were loyal, those Northmen, and had stayed loyal to their cause. Even now, she thought they might prefer another face on the throne. But they also knew the wisdom of peace, as painful as that might be. 

"Lord Karstark." Forgive my bare words, she might have said, but in the North they spoke sparingly too. It was only in the warmer Southorn environments that they demanded each speech flow. 

"I am sure you are eager to return home. I hope your family fares well. I have heard... troubling things. As lovely as King's Landing and our new King are, nothing compares to home." Nothing about it felt lovely or right; perhaps here she would find a sympathetic ear who did not pretend this was anything other than strange. Though given what she'd heard of their own princess, the man likely had greater concerns. How much of what Aerea heard was true she did not know. She was no spy, and her connections were merely social gossip.  @wintervsuns

#c: aerea #aerea 001

[wintervsuns]

♞

there was a level of self consciousness that became clear in the minor details of how she stood before him, and yet there had never been a time where he could not recall her in such a way. "easy to assume." he spoke, referencing the culture of karhold: they were further north than many, with their own dialect. the sun tongue. and dacey before him, had always remained the quiet princess, the soft princess, caught in the middle of the pack: who would ever hear the gnawing of paws upon the dirt of the earth when the others howled over each of her attempts?

"there are many who would be able to provide you with the real answers you seek." the north was rooted in ancient practices, a place so strange he almost forgot - that was until he was beyond the wall, visiting his uncle who remained the current lord commander of the night's watch. the desolate emptiness and the creeping knowledge of what remained beyond the wall, the strange practices that caused a chill to run down the back of his spine.

he could delve further into the information regarding what it was she sought that night, reveal the conversations they had within the wagon or atop horseback through all weathers as they passed through the neck. he was not knowledgeable enough about such practices, though he had gotten her message all too clearly: there was ample risk in what it was she was planning to do. he cleared his throat slightly as the memories of the night flooded back to him, the churning sound of the wind and the leaves beneath his feet as he witnessed her stood by a fire; and when she looked up at him, there was blood running from her nose. with eyes that remained black.

and perhaps he would have backed away rather than forward, if he had not been confronted with what it was the old gods could force upon mortals merely some weeks earlier. he'll never forget the way in which meera reed's body had remained warm, for the days they spent travelling for her to be entombed within karhold. the sight of her eyes as they opened, and she drew in a large amount of breath that sounded like her last all the while.

"i can confirm the princess spent time studying such practices. she had many associates within the woods." the witches, who too worked methods that could be used for good or for evil. brandon firmly believed it was not magic itself that was evil, but how it was to be used. "after the murder of the late prince, she was desperate." and those were all the words he was ready to say on the matter, until she spoke of perhaps not mentioning details to the king.

brandon found himself wondering how he had managed to stumble himself in such a situation - as though he had not sworn the personal matters of the starks was not his issue. and now, the princess admitted to perhaps withholding information from the king - information he knew. "we both know the fixation the king holds on knowing all the facts." brandon responded. speaking objectively about his closest friend, his closest companion: who had once been so much shorter than him. "he would want to know. she was his twin, in the end."

dacey turned her head, dark eyes fixing on brandon. there was much that neither was saying, but she wasn't sure they needed to. she couldn't change what had come to pass, but that did not erase the years of knowing him. there was a small comfort in that, the fact that despite everything, she could still find a way to understand him.

"no, of course not." she almost felt a fool for asking. she was in unfamiliar territory, tasked with dealing with things that scared her, that her morals did not hold with, but that did not need to become his problem. still, there was a hesitancy in her, as though spending enough time with what alys had left behind to get rid of them would stain her by mere proximity. she dropped her gaze to her hands. "if there's a way to get rid of such things without making things worse, i'll find it."

she knew little of such practices, except for the gnawing feeling that alys dabbling in them had been a dreadful mistake, and that she would need to be careful in how she proceeded. her first instinct was to throw the whole cursed lot into the fire, but the logical part of her mind told her that would be a grave mistake. the old valyrian empire was steeped in stories of magic, coming from fire and blood. dacey kept to the old gods, but there was a significance to the flame she didn't want to invite. neither did she want to remove alys' belongings in such a way that others could find them.

"and what are your thoughts, brandon?" the formality between them was dropped, driven from her head by the distraction the issue before them presented. she could guess, and was pretty certain her assumptions were close to accuracy, but she would hear it in his own words first, should he be willing to share them with her.

"hmm." her brow furrowed. "i suppose whether or not owen knows is... somewhat irrelevant. for as long as alys remains missing, at least." something deep in dacey's heart told her she would not see her sister again. should that continue to remain true, she wasn't sure that owen's knowledge was relevant. "i don't think i'm going to tell him."

#c: dacey #dacey 001 #this is a tale of brandon always being pulled into stark bs somehow and it honestly makes me giggle sm #brandon: i won't deal with it anymore #dacey: i won't tell owen #brandon: what