he had warned against the match since he had first heard of it - since he had returned from euron greyjoy’s ship and been welcomed by rumours he didn’t understand at first. and rodrik had resented it: they were forresters, sworn vassals to the glovers. their place was at ironrath, to roam free in the wolfswood, to know where they belonged and where they didn’t. and they didn’t belong at winterfell, they never would. but vows had been exchanged in front of the old gods, vows that would bind their two families together forever, and there was no turning back - not now, not anymore. and as much as the warrior wished to ease his mind, he knew a storm was brewing on the horizon. the last time a forrester had dared to love, his brother had paid the price by losing his home and his true love in one fell swoop. but mira had angered the north. and rodrik knew even wolves could not fight an army on their own.
perhaps he looked dour at his own sister’s wedding, but he felt an outsider amongst the festivities: his family was not in attendance, not his lady mother nor his youngest siblings. yet there were lords and ladies he scarcely knew or cared for, soldiers he had bled with but never truly spoken to, and childhood friends who seemed to be nothing more than strangers now. making his excuses, rodrik went in search of a quieter corner of the camp - desperate for a moment to himself so he could think. or perhaps even use a tree as a training post, his sheathed blade hanging from his belt. but when he heard a voice from ahead, the forrester heir stilled. dacey mormont was unmistakeable, of course: she was a fearsome warrior and sworn sword to the king in the north, and rodrik had heard much of the mormonts from his lord father. so when faced with the point of her arrow, he knew to stop dead in his tracks.
“ i doubt anyone would disagree with that, ” he replied wearily, scrubbing a hand over his tired features. he was buzzing with nervous energy and a hint of rage he couldn’t quite place. he felt at ease with the vanguard, but celebrations exhausted him and smalltalk had never been a strength of his. “ might i join you? ” if nothing else, rodrik could not spend another moment with drunkards toasting to a hurried marriage. “ this seems to be the only peaceful place tonight. ”
It took Dacey a moment to recognize the face emerging from the darkness, her bow arm remaining straight and tense all the while. But as she realized her company was a fellow Northerner, she quickly lowered her guard (although in these times, perhaps a bit too quickly). There was a certain naivety in Dacey’s absolute trust in her fellow Northerners, as if no person could break the ice and snow that bonded them (but after all, ice did have a tendency to shatter, did it not?).
“At least not to my face.” she responded with a shrug, sheathing her arrow and slinging her bow back over her shoulder. She looked back at her newly acquired company and realized he looked like she felt. Nervous. Tired. Too tired to be nervous. But too nervous to get a decent’s night rest. “You can.---But there is not much to be found out here, other than my pacin’ of the camp’s borders and pointin’ me arrows at friends not foes, apparently.” She chuckled humorlessly, knowing that she probably seemed over zealous.
She wasn’t even on guard tonight, Robb having insisted that other’s could take the job of protection for one night, so she could enjoy the festivities and help him celebrate. Perhaps that’s why she felt guilty, sitting and patrolling at the edge of camp. She should be happy for Robb, should she not? Not only was he her King, but a man she considered a friend. But yet, she found herself...Disappointed? Of what she wasn’t exactly sure.
“The festivities gettin’ to ye?” she asked with a cocked brow. She would have assumed that a family such as the Forresters would’ve been overjoyed to have a sister or daughter married to not only a Stark, but the King in the North, and was surprised to realize that Rodrik did not look thrilled in the least.
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