;;two worlds

there was an ease about minthara that she had not felt in months. being away from the islands had been difficult for her, even more so being in king's landing, and there weren't words to explain how she felt finally returning home. it was not just the familiar warmth that settled in her bones, nor the sound of the ocean lapping at the beaches. it was all of it, the comforts of home, being in a place she belonged with people who loved her, that was missing from everywhere else.

she rolled on to her stomach to look at lucerys, the smirk on her face one that could only be described as evil. she had not been witness to lucerys' little flirtation, but she could picture it clearly. she knew lucerys inside and out. as different as they were, he was undoubtedly the other half of her, the one she could never quite hide from, and could never hide from her. "not that i picked it," she mimicked, her smirk descending into a cackle of laughter that echoed on the night air. "you're a lost cause. the gods took all the charm out of you to give to me."

but then, she had always been bold, where lucerys was cautious, as he had always been clever, where minthara was not academic at all. clever, until it came to things like this. "he was laughing because he was waiting for you to do something. you know that, don't you? people don't go and look at the stars with their mates, luc. don't think me and bri or rhaena or vivi have ever done that once." it felt like she was pointing out the obvious, but somehow, lucerys needed that. "besides, who knows when you're going to see him again? you might have missed your shot."

she rolled on to her back, eyes fixed on the green canopy of leaves that provided shade to the balcony when the sun was high. "threatening to throw myself into the sea is my trick, luc. and it never works, anyway. you all know i'm bluffing." she pointed out. "can't believe this, you know. i leave you to your own devices for five minutes and look at you. a mess."

luc stared at her like she had just personally betrayed him.“a shot?” he repeated faintly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “minty, there was no shot. it was stargazing. scholarly. educational. practically monastic.”

he faltered under her look he knew she was giving him without even needing to look. “all right, not monastic,” he muttered.

the sea crashed below, loud and relentless, as if it too were laughing at him. he dragged a hand down his face and sat up fully now, knees pulled close to his chest, blanket slipping around his shoulders.

“he moved closer.” luc admitted, quieter. “i did not imagine that. i am not inventing it to soothe my own tragic ego. he moved. his arm touching mine…and he kept looking at me and not the sky so much and….. i dont know" luc buried his face in his hands again.

“i told him i wouldnt have left if anyone else had invited me. that it was important he invited me…” he groaned. “what does that even mean. is that flirting? would he even know that?”

he peeked at her through his fingers, genuinely distressed. “and what was i supposed to do. grab his face. confess undying devotion under the stars like some kids story? minty, i could be wrong. you know what happens if i am wrong.” that was the part he did not joke about. he was serious. he knew the consciquences if he was wrong. they all did. this was not dorne. this was not somewhere even close to that. this was new valyria now. a place he was meant to have multiple wives. he didn't even want one. he lowered his hands slowly, shoulders slumping. “i cannot afford to misread this. not with someone like him. not anywhere. especially not here.”

the wind brushed by them salt catching on his lashes. after a moment, he nudged her foot lightly with his.

“but he said he was glad i was there,” luc added, softer now. “and he meant it. i could tell.”

a pause.

“i,.. did not miss my shot,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. “i just… left the door open. im seeing him again at ther verdant concord.”

norbie let out a quiet laugh, leaning forward momentarily to place his cup down on the balustrade of the balcony. they were close enough that when he moved, their sleeves brushed against on another. "i come out here sometimes," he said, fingers resting lightly on the stone. "not as often as i should, mind you. i suppose i take the viw for granted." he cast lucerys a sideways glance. "or perhaps it is just best enjoyed in the company of insomniac stormlanders."

it must have been the wine, making him a little bolder, or perhaps it was just the comfort of being in his own domain. either way, as soon as the words were out, norbie felt himself flushing, and he was glad of the darkness to cover the redness of his cheeks. he gestured upwards, diverting attention to the skies. "yes, they get a little brighter if you head towards the mountains, but they can be hard to see here. same stars, though, wherever you go. its more than can be said for the sea, isn't it?" he was rambling now, and he knew it.

there was a pause then, and though norbie felt awkward, it wasn't entirely awkward in its silence. "i'm glad you're here, luc," he said, finally, quieter than before. "i don't know how it compares to greenstone, or king's landing, or anything. but... it's good. having you here, i mean."

he didn't quite look at him as he spoke, instead leaning over the railing slightly, as though something in the city had caught his attention. "should have brought some chairs out here," he mumbled, more to himself than to lucerys.

luc felt the brush of their sleeves like a spark carried on a summer current. it was nothin. fabric against fabric, accidental. fleeting. and yet it rooted him there more surely than the stone beneath his palms.

he swallowed, watching the city lights shimmer over the dark water. same stars, wherever you go. the words settled somewhere deep in his chest.

“they are.” he agreed softly. “though i think they look different depending on who you’re standing beside when you find them.” he said his eyes quickly glancing out to the sea, not able to look at him after that.

the wine had warmed him, or perhaps it was simply norbie’s nearness. luc turned slightly, enough that their shoulders nearly aligned, close enough to see the faint outline of norbie’s profile in the lantern-glow spilling from inside. was this all too much? was this in his head again and again as he feared. but each word norbie spoke gave him a new spark, a new hope that maybe he was right this time.

“i’m glad i’m here too.” he admitted, voice quieter now, stripped of its usual nervous tumble. “greenstone will always be home. the storms, the heat, the way the air feels thick before the rain. but…” he hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around the stem of his goblet. “here, everything feels closer. louder. as though the world is happening right beneath your window. like you are right on the edge of the world….does that make sense?” he said giving a small nervous laugh. he spoke without thinking though deep down he knew he was not speaking of gulltown but of him. "i suppose this means next time i will have to host you at greenstone."

he leaned his forearms on the railing beside norbie’s, close enough that the warmth between them was undeniable now. “i don’t think i’d have come, if it were anyone else who invited me.” the confession slipped out before he could catch it. luc’s breath caught a second later, and he gave a small, flustered huff of laughter at himself. “i mean…gulltown is lovely, obviously. very strategic port. excellent harbor depth. trade routes…”

he stopped, shaking his head. “i just meant…” his voice softened again, earnest and unguarded. “it matters that you asked.” he said. "you know me….introvert i guess" he said trying to cover for himself.

lucerys had been warned to pace himself — “it’s a weeks-long event, luc, not a sprint” — but it was proving impossible. highgarden had never looked more alive. music drifted faintly through the winding garden paths, punctuated by bursts of applause or thoughtful murmuring from the open-air forums.

he stood at the edge of one such pavilion now, a leather-bound notebook tucked under his arm, cheeks still flushed from the last discussion he’d stumbled into — something on the ethics of alchemical advancement and the moral obligation of progress. he hadn’t meant to speak, but someone had misquoted maester edryn on the nature of equilibrium, and, well… it would’ve haunted him all week if he hadn’t corrected it.

now he lingered, scribbling half-formed thoughts onto the page. his glasses had slid down his nose again, ink smudged on the side of his hand.

"gods," he whispered to himself, grinning. “it’s like the citadel if no one ever told you to shut up during a lesson"

a breeze stirred the silken banners above. somewhere nearby, someone was demonstrating a waterwheel-powered loom. elsewhere, he could hear laughter — or maybe debate; it was hard to tell here.

luc turned, scanning the growing crowd with quiet excitement. familiar faces, curious strangers, potential allies — or perhaps just someone to talk philosophy or anything with.

he adjusted his spectacles and smiled, open and eager. for once he felt….social? like his normal nerves just melted away “did you catch the last forum?” he asked, the person next to him who had also stopped at the debate. “i think the speaker misattributed that bit on civic harmony but overall it was very interesting”

and yet. he had lingered at the edge of a debate. not for the topic, not really. he could not care less about civic harmony in theory. but there was something in the tone, passionate, flawed, reaching, that made him stay. when the discussion ended, edrick remained, arms crossed, expression unreadable as the crowd thinned.

the boy next to him spoke, sudden and bright.

the lord of the dreadfort turned slowly, gaze moving from spectacles to ink-stained fingers to flushed cheeks. another academic, it seemed. the sort who thought debate a kind of courtship and knowledge its own armor. he might’ve scoffed, but there was no arrogance in the young man’s voice. just genuine interest. it disarmed him.

“i caught it,” he said. his voice was low, gravel rough. “they fumbled through more than civic harmony. barely touched on the realities of governance. too much theory, not enough blood.” he glanced toward the retreating speakers. a cluster of robes and confident laughter.

“still. better than most. at least they weren’t quoting songs and pretending it was philosophy.” his attention returned to the boy, man, he supposed, and the notebook under his arm. he looked like he belonged here. not just comfortable, but lit from within.

Luc turned in slight surprise. not by the voice which felt low and worn like stone but by the fact that it had answered him at all.

He hadn’t expected a reply, not from the man like him. Tall, cloaked in northern attire that looked out of place among the lilac silks and gilded brocade of Highgarden, the stranger had stood so still through the forum that Luc had assumed him a guard or someone tragically misdirected. But now, as the man turned toward him, half-shadowed beneath the silken canopy, Luc caught something else not dismissal, but precision. Thoughtful. Honest.

Luc’s nervous grin didn’t disappear, but it softened into something quieter.

“I…yes. Well. I did study at the Citadel,” he said, lifting his notebook slightly as if it explained everything. “Didn’t take my vows, though. Life… went another way.” A shrug, self-conscious, but not regretful. “I was drawn to trade, navigation, history. The practical parts. I suppose it’s easier to argue philosophy when your ships are still afloat.”

He glanced toward the path the speakers had vanished down, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right, though. There was no grounding. It’s easy to talk about harmony when you’ve never had to enforce it. Easier still to forget that some systems don’t bend. they break.”

A beat passed before Luc straightened, embarrassed at his own forwardness. “Sorry. I-I'm Lucerys. Luc, if you’d rather. Of Greenstone. luc estermont” He extended a slightly ink-stained hand with an apologetic smile. “And you are?”

lucerys had been warned to pace himself — “it’s a weeks-long event, luc, not a sprint” — but it was proving impossible. highgarden had never looked more alive. music drifted faintly through the winding garden paths, punctuated by bursts of applause or thoughtful murmuring from the open-air forums.

he stood at the edge of one such pavilion now, a leather-bound notebook tucked under his arm, cheeks still flushed from the last discussion he’d stumbled into — something on the ethics of alchemical advancement and the moral obligation of progress. he hadn’t meant to speak, but someone had misquoted maester edryn on the nature of equilibrium, and, well… it would’ve haunted him all week if he hadn’t corrected it.

now he lingered, scribbling half-formed thoughts onto the page. his glasses had slid down his nose again, ink smudged on the side of his hand.

"gods," he whispered to himself, grinning. “it’s like the citadel if no one ever told you to shut up during a lesson"

a breeze stirred the silken banners above. somewhere nearby, someone was demonstrating a waterwheel-powered loom. elsewhere, he could hear laughter — or maybe debate; it was hard to tell here.

luc turned, scanning the growing crowd with quiet excitement. familiar faces, curious strangers, potential allies — or perhaps just someone to talk philosophy or anything with.

he adjusted his spectacles and smiled, open and eager. for once he felt….social? like his normal nerves just melted away “did you catch the last forum?” he asked, the person next to him who had also stopped at the debate. “i think the speaker misattributed that bit on civic harmony but overall it was very interesting”

As he listened, his cool blue eyes took in the spectacle: the impassioned speakers waving their arms with theatrical precision, the clamor of polite applause, and the occasional indignant murmur when a point was challenged. To Cato, it all seemed a far cry from the realities of duty and swordplay, a cacophony of cock swinging that suited neither the grim seriousness of his mission nor the harsh truths of the world.

He moved along the edge of the crowd, his presence measured and detached, all while keeping a sharp focus on his true objective—scouting potential allies for the Lion Prince amid the throng of learned men. It wasn't that he cared for the debates; he merely tolerated them as a useful distraction from the far more practical task at hand.

When someone, perhaps a lord, finally turned to him, spectacles slipping down his nose and eyes alight with theoretical fervor, Cato offered nothing more than a sidelong glance. The weight of the ongoing discourse pressed in around them, but Cato's mind was fixed on the absurdity of it all.

luc blinked.

for a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard the man correctly. he glanced over at the source of the remark, tall, composed, and wrapped in that sort of effortless detachment only soldiers seemed to wear well. not a single book in sight. no eager scrolls, no ink-stained fingers, not even a badge of house or order. just a man who looked like he’d rather be in a sparring yard than beneath silken banners, surrounded by hopeful scholars debating the ethics of flame and stone.

luc cleared his throat, unsure whether to laugh or apologize on behalf of the speaker. “ah” he said, shifting his weight slightly and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “i suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

the breeze caught the edge of his notebook, fluttering the pages. he tucked it closer to his side. “though, in fairness, it wasn’t the worst forum i’ve sat through today. i’ve heard more convoluted theories in the first hour alone than i did in an entire year at the citadel.” he paused. “still, i think they were trying to say something worthwhile. somewhere underneath the, um… word soup.”

luc tilted his head curiously, eyes catching on the way the man’s posture was less curious and more… assessing. assertive maybe. not the gaze of a fellow scholar, but someone used to watching, waiting, judging. perhaps he was wrong thought. but he wasn’t used to that kind of attention at these sorts of things, and oddly, it made him stand a little straighter.

he gave a tentative smile, then offered a hand. “lucerys estermont. from greenstone. i am here for all sorts of scholarry talks and debates… apparently too many opinions on old maesters.” a beat. “you’re not here for the talks, are you?”

"well," he began, letting the grin tugging at his lips linger. "i think luc suits you well. it always has. not that lucerys isn't a wonderful name. it is. your mother chose well." your mother chose well? what on earth was he thinking?it was all norbie could do not to wince, but even in the throes of his embarrassment, he could not help but think about the ease with which luc's name had slipped from his mouth.

he looked down at the book again, fingers brushing tenderly over the binding of the cover. it were not just the book he was holding in his hands. it felt as though he was clutching the weight of memories, the nights shivering under the stars with only the soft flicker of a latern to illuminate them, luc's voice quietly recalling the constellations above them. he was holding something he thought had been banished to memory, and now here was lucerys, offering him a little piece of it back.

"of course i remember," norbie said, in a voice softer then before. "it doesn't feel all that long ago to me. i doubt i could forget it if i tried." he lifted his gaze to meet luc's, and there was something in his expression, the way he moved to adjust the way his glasses sat upon his face, that almost made him feel weak at the knees. he knew he ought to be more careful, but something tugged at him, pulling him closer even as his mind told him to tread carefully. he did not notice the fact he had even physically moved closer, shuffling forward until he stood only a few inches away.

"i'd like that," he said. "to look at the stars. with you. one more astronomy lesson." he tucked the book under his arm, rocking backwards on his hels with a sort of nervous energy. "if my memory serves, you were always better than me at recalling their names, anyway. can't think of anybody better to look at them with."

luc swallowed hard, his breath catching as norbie stepped closer, close enough that luc could see the flicker of firelight reflecting in his eyes. he had always thought them striking—deep, thoughtful, filled with something he couldn’t quite name. something that made it harder to breathe when they looked at him like this.

he let out a short, breathless laugh, glancing down at his own feet as if that might steady him. gods, get a hold of yourself.

“well, uh… i appreciate that,” he murmured, his fingers once again adjusting the slipping frame of his glasses. “about my name, i mean. not that i picked it, obviously. but, um, i suppose it suits me well enough.” he winced internally. why am i like this?

he was overthinking every little thing, as he always did, and norbie was standing there—too close, too warm, making it impossible to think straight. or, well… straight in any sense.

when norbie spoke again, voice softer, that quiet sincerity threading through his words, luc’s heart did something strange in his chest. he dared to glance up, and for a moment, it was like he was back in the citadel, sitting under the stars, books and notes scattered between them. those nights had been his favorite—when the world felt vast and endless, but here, in this small pocket of space, it was just the two of them.

“it… it doesn’t feel that long ago to me either,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “i—” he hesitated, then cleared his throat, shifting slightly on his feet. “i’d like that too. to, um… teach you. not that you need teaching, i mean, you were good at it. i just—” he stopped, exhaling sharply. gods, stop talking.

he let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his dark curls. “i guess i should warn you, though—i’ve only gotten worse at being normal since then,” he said, offering a lopsided, self-deprecating grin. “but i suppose the stars won’t mind.”

luc’s fingers twitched at his sides, an urge rising in him to reach out, to close the last bit of space between them. but he couldn’t. he shouldn’t. instead, he gestured toward the open terrace beyond the solar, where the sky stretched out in a canvas of deepening blues. “shall we?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something nervous but hopeful.

he wasn’t sure what this moment was. what it could be. but for now, under the cover of night, he could pretend—just for a little while—that it was something more.

“lord lucerys, forgive the intrusion for the sudden call.” wylliam swann lingered in the doorway of the solar, his hands fidgeting at the cuffs of his sleeves. the room was dimly lit, the late afternoon light filtering through narrow windows set deep into stone walls. greenstone carried the scent of salt and seaweed, a constant reminder of its perch on the edge of the stormy narrow sea. a fire crackled weakly in the hearth, its glow doing little to dispel the strange dampness that clung to the air; it were uncharacteristically chilly in greenstone for this time of year. “your hospitality is, as always, gracious,” wylliam continued, stepping cautiously over the threshold. His boots left faint prints on the worn flagstones, still damp from the misty walk up from the harbour. “tell yer mama her fish stew is still impeccable."

he gave a faint, self-deprecating chuckle, adjusting his spectacles with a habitual push of his finger. his hair, untamed by the sea air, fell messily across his brow, and he brushed at it absently as he approached the hearth. the warmth there was inviting, though he didn’t dare sit—not yet. instead, he stood stiffly, his hands clasping and unclasping behind his back; there was something that they need to speak of, and in ways, how wylliam had failed the stormlanders by being unable to stop the latest thing from rolling out.

“truth be told, i’d not planned to visit, but i couldn’t pass so near without stopping. the condition of the stormlands, you see—it weighs heavily on my mind.” his voice faltered briefly, and he glanced at lucerys, searching his face for any flicker of agreement.

“and the isles—yours especially—are far too often overlooked. it’s all very well for the lords of the mainland, with their fields and forests, but when the tax collector calls on your harbour, what’s left? fish bones and salt, i’d wager.” he moved then, pacing the edge of the room in restless strides. his boots scuffed lightly against the stone, and his fingers traced the rough surface of the wall as though its texture might anchor his wandering thoughts. “i’ll not sugar-coat it; things are worse than i expected. every road, every village—thin faces and empty storehouses. the conditions are ready for disturbance, especially with nightsong being taken from our lands." he paused by a narrow window, the jagged coastline visible beyond. the sea churned angrily against the rocks, the foam white as bone. he pressed his palms against the cool sill, leaning into it as though to steady himself.

the solar was dim, the golden light of the sinking sun filtering in through the narrow windows, casting long, flickering shadows across the stone walls. the air carried the ever-present scent of salt and damp parchment, a testament to greenstone’s place amidst the ceaseless tides. the sea was restless today—luc could hear it, the distant crash of waves against the jagged cliffs below, the wind howling as if it carried the voices of the storm gods themselves.

luc stood by the hearth, one hand braced against the edge of the heavy wooden table where his ledgers lay open, their pages weighed down with inked columns of numbers that only spoke of loss. his other hand instinctively went to adjust his glasses, a nervous habit more than necessity. he turned as wylliam swann stepped inside, the sound of damp boots meeting stone too familiar in this keep where mist crept through the cracks like an uninvited guest.

“lord swann. please please call me luc, but thank you.” luc greeted, softer than formality required. there was little need for excessive pleasantries between them. they had known each other too long, if not well. “no forgiveness is needed—you’re always welcome here.” he forced a small, fleeting smile at the mention of his mother’s stew, though it faded just as quickly. “i will be sure to tell her that. she will be happy to see you here, she speaks of you and your family fondly very often.”

his gaze flickered toward the window where will now stood, silhouetted against the storm-gray horizon, speaking of the suffering of their people. of the weight pressing down on the stormlands, on greenstone—on him.

luc inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the edges of the ledger before releasing. he crossed the room with slow, measured steps, standing beside will at the window, looking down at the angry sea below. “it’s bad,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “worse than i’ve let on.”

his gaze followed the horizon, where the waters stretched endlessly, where trade routes should have been thriving instead of faltering under the strain of war and heavy levies. “the taxes are crushing us, but the worst of it isn’t just the coin we lose. it’s the faith that’s slipping. the men who sail my ships, the families who fish these waters—what do they have left, when the crown takes and takes? how do i tell them to be patient, to endure, when the stores are empty and winter approaches?”

luc shook his head, exhaling as his fingers pressed down over his head.. “greenstone has always been overlooked. we are small but bountiful, an island battered by storms, an afterthought to those who rule from dry, gilded halls. but we bleed just as much as the mainland. more, perhaps, because we have less to lose.” he turned to will then, meeting his gaze properly, his violet-flecked eyes dark with exhaustion and something heavier—responsibility. “we are looked down upon for more than one thing. the same blood of the valyrian runs through my family's veins as it does there and yet…” his words trailed off. "we are different"

"lucerys! er - lord estermont," his tone was full of warmth, though he was shaking his head. "well, i suppose there's no need for formalities between us, is there? norbie suits me just fine, if it pleases you?" vis voice pitched up a little at the end of his sentence, turning it into a question.

in truth, he was glad to see him. many years had passed since their time together at the citadel, but their last chance encounter in king's landing had reminded norbie how it had been lucerys' company that made that time bearable for him. it had been a strange thing, to get what you wanted and realise it was not for you after all, but finding a friend within oldtown had been a welcome reprieved. and he was touched that lucerys even remembered him at all - he had spent far longer there than norbie had. he must have seen far more novices come and go.

"a present?" his eyes flicked curiously to the wrapped package in lucerys' hands, then widened when lucerys explained what was inside it. there was no denying the way his heart did a little hop-skip-jump in his chest, and he was glad, in that moment, that there was nobody else around. "you found it and thought of me?" he asked softly, voice barely more than a whisper, and when he reached out to take the book, his fingers brushed lightly against luc's.

he was almost reverent as he unwrapped the book, opening it to a random page and scanning the contents. the weight of it in his hands were grounding, even as his thoughts spiralled up to the clouds. "of course i remember," he murmured. how could he forget? it was such a thoughtful gift, that he barely knew how to respond.

carefully, he closed the book, tucking it under his arm. "i love it," he declared. "this is... wow." his cheeks flushed half a shade darker. it was rare norbie was lost for words, but lucerys had rendered him momentarily speechless. "thank you, lucerys. i wasn't expecting... oh, but i have nothing to give you in return."

his brow creased in thought. he wanted to say more, about how much those nights under the stars had meant to him, but instead, he found himself falling back on something that felt safer. "i know you must be leaving soon, but if you happen to have a few hours to spare before you do, perhaps we can look at the book together? only if you have time, of course. i'm sure you have much to do."

luc’s heart stuttered at norbie’s words, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar mix of relief and nerves. the warmth in norbie’s tone, the way he said “lucerys” like they were back at the citadel again, made it all feel surreal. “y…yes yeah yeah that would please me. i mean it would be fine. lucerys is fine or luc whatever you like” he stumbled out his words nervously. as norbie’s fingers brushed his, luc felt a jolt—soft and fleeting, but enough to send his thoughts scattering.

“oh, you don’t need to give me anything,” luc said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “i just… i remembered how much you liked astrology, and when i saw it, i thought whoa i know…i rememember someone—well, i thought you might enjoy it.” he glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even remember, honestly. it was a long time ago.” he dared a look up at norbie, his cheeks warm and his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. adjusting them, he managed a shy smile, the corners of his lips twitching nervously. “i’m glad you like it,” he murmured, and gods, he meant it. seeing norbie’s reaction was worth every ounce of anxiety that had knotted in his stomach.

when norbie suggested looking at the book together, luc’s heart skipped again. he nodded quickly, a little too eagerly, before trying to temper his excitement. “oh, yes. i mean, if you’d like. i’d like that too.” he laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i don’t have much to do before i leave—well, i suppose i could make time. for this.”

his gaze darted to the book tucked under norbie’s arm and then back to him. “it’d be nice,” he said, quieter this time, as if the words carried more weight than they should. “to look at the stars again. like old times.”

luc’s fingers twitched at his sides, his nerves buzzing, but for the first time in a while, he felt a faint flicker of hope. was this how everyone else felt?

the chamber was dim, heavy velvet curtains muffling the daylight and creating a cloistered atmosphere. amir manderly sat at the long table, feeling out of place despite the rich sea-green of his doublet, the silver merman of his house gleaming faintly in the candlelight. the room reeked of pipeweed and ambition, a combination that made him restless. this wasn’t his usual arena—he preferred the simplicity of a sword’s edge or the honest chaos of a card game.

but his brother nasir sat beside him, calm and composed as ever, a steady anchor in these murky waters. he should be speaking, amir thought, resisting the urge to fidget.

the network was gathered in full today—mootons, estermonts, peakes, wyls, and, of course, the manderlys. the most powerful coin families in westeros, they liked to think themselves puppeteers of economies and alliances. amir wasn’t sure he believed that. the reach of the network always seemed to falter at the vale and the westerlands, and now, with rumors of the iron bank’s expansion to gulltown, it felt like the limits of their influence were being laid bare.

"gulltown...would be an issue, nah?" amir asked, breaking the lull in conversation, though his voice was quieter than usual. it felt strange to speak here, among people who seemed to measure their worth in ledgers and gold. it were not his usual manner of discussion. "it’s just... it’s hard to say what we’re even dealing with. i mean, rumors like this—they can spread like wildfire, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything real behind them."

he glanced at nasir for reassurance but found his brother’s expression unreadable. amir pressed on, unsure if his words carried any weight. "and if it is true—well, what then? what could we even do about it? gulltown isn’t exactly friendly to us. they’d probably see us coming from a mile away." he tapped his fingers against the table, the sound hollow against the polished wood. "maybe," he added after a pause, "maybe it’s not about stopping it. maybe it’s just... knowing for sure. someone should go, figure out what the iron bank’s actually planning. at least then we’d be dealing with facts instead of whispers."

In contrast to his dear friend, the Lord of Mooton felt comfortable in attire the exuded opulence. His doublet, fashioned from rich red velvet, features intricate gold thread embroidery. White silk cuffs elegantly peek out from the sleeves. The colors of his house always proud, always part of his wardrobe. Draped over his shoulders was his cape of red, gold, and white feathers layered like dragon scales, a golden clasp of the leaping salmon of House Mooton.

And as he began to speak he nodded his head, there were whispers about the Iron Bank and the Vale, their relationship was historical and while the other regions were falling to pieces in connection to the East, the Vale seemed the only region not burning bridge. And the North, he dared say the North's working relationship with the East was growing year by year.

"Amir speaks the truth. These rumors run deeper than just talk. I heard, before our departure to the West, Gulltown ships were going East. I don't who they were visiting." Word had not reach him yet, and he hoped to have more soon. "The bank in the Vale will be great. The Graftons have considerable wealth and Gulltown has never had whispers of struggle." The Vale remained mostly untouched during the Dance and perhaps suffered more in the hands of their dead King.

He glanced around the table, eyes falling to Tion Peake. The Lord was new to their network, returned and given a seat at the table. A chance to join them, bring in the Reach and reclaim their status in their network. "Have you heard anything of note, Tion? The late lord of Oldtown held a connection to one of the five families in the east."

his uncle should have returned by now, bound for braavos himself and departing from king's landing during the coronation of king jaehaerys, and then silence. there were plenty of reasons why the ravens may not have come, and so, tion had been patient, but more than a month had passed since unwin peake was expected home. his enquiries were leading him to the same place this conversation was pointing toward - gulltown.

"ties he severed well before his death," tion mused, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he thought. "and now the lady antaryon finds herself lord grafton's guest. that can be no coincidence." the pieces were falling into place. if the iron bank desired a presence in gulltown, it was the smart move to dangle a woman before their lord, someone to turn his head and advocate for their interests.

"i can go to gulltown," he offered. "as luck would have it, personal matters would see me travel to speak with lady antaryon, regardless." his strength was not in the gathering of information, but he had reason to be in the right place, without raising suspicion as to his business there. the opportunity was thereto dig a little deeper, to find out more about the truth behind the rumour. even if the pieces seem to fit, they needed to know for sure.

"what do we know about this lord grafton? norbert, is it?" his eyes swept the men at the table. by all means, norbert grafton was a man well connected, but whether those connections extended to any in this room, tion did not know. "what sort of man is he?"

nasir manderly sat with a measured calm, his hands steepled under his chin as the room’s tensions ebbed and flowed. the flickering candlelight carved shadows across his sharp, contemplative features. he let the others speak first, as was his habit, allowing their voices to weave a tapestry of speculation and concern. amir’s uncertainty had not gone unnoticed, but nasir had offered no outward reassurance. instead, he waited, letting the weight of his brother’s words settle in the chamber like silt in still water.

he finally leaned forward, his voice soft but deliberate, slicing through the murmurs like the tide against a rocky shore. “gulltown,” he began, “is no idle rumor. jalabhar is right—these whispers have weight. a foothold for the iron bank in the vale would be... significant. and a set back, to most of you.” his gaze swept the table, lingering briefly on tion peake, then on lucerys estermont. "right now, the vale and the north stands united."

he straightened slightly, folding his hands before him. “but amir raises a good point—what can we do, if anything? as tion has offered, a presence in gulltown would help. information is a currency of its own, and knowing the truth of these plans may allow us to position ourselves accordingly.” his words were deliberate, carefully balanced between caution and resolve. he looked toward tion. "does your king have any association with the vale?"

he hesitated a beat, his mind flickering back to the faint memory of lucerys from their shared time at the citadel. "i don't know anything about norbert grafton." was it lucerys, or merely someone bearing the estermont name? nasir could not be sure, but the idea was enough to draw his attention. “luc,” he said evenly, “did you come across him when you were at the citadel? i'm sure i heard somewhere he trained for some amount of time."

luc’s fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table, the rhythm betraying the nervous energy bubbling beneath his composed exterior. his heart had been pounding ever since norbert grafton’s name had been mentioned, and now it felt as though everyone in the room could hear it. he adjusted his glasses—not because they needed it, but because he needed it, a familiar gesture to steady his thoughts before speaking.

“yes,” he began, his voice faltering slightly before he cleared his throat. “i—i knew lord grafton at the citadel. we studied together for some time. he, uh, left quite suddenly, but while he was there… well, he was brilliant. a real mind for navigation and astronomy.” luc paused, hesitating as he fought to keep his words neutral, casual. “he stood out,” he added softly, almost to himself.

realizing he might have said too much, he shifted awkwardly in his seat, glancing at the others before quickly looking back down at his hands. “what i mean is, i don’t think he’s—well, he never struck me as the scheming type. if the iron bank is interested in gulltown, it’s probably more about the graftons’ position and wealth than anything lord grafton himself is plotting.”

luc adjusted his glasses again, his fingers fumbling slightly as he did so. “actually,” he said, his tone a little rushed, “norbie has invited to gulltown myself. if there’s concern about their intentions, i could… i could ask a few questions. subtly, of course. nothing too direct.” he said. “norbie has become more of a friend again.” he said not realizing the name slip he had twice.

the room felt stifling, and luc could feel the weight of their gazes. he forced a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “it’s just—well, i think keeping things amicable is important. at least for now.”

his hand returned to the table, fingers tapping again in that nervous rhythm, his thoughts a chaotic tangle of worry and hope. gods, what am i doing? he thought, wishing desperately that the discussion would move on to something—anything—else.

"Women are not scary, nor are they simple minded unless you wish to find one of simple mind. Perhaps a Mallister sister would do you well." His smile came easy as he finished the wine goblet, sat it down on a passing tray and then grabbed another in a motion that synced perfectly with the servants as they passed them by.

"I only wish to ensure my guests are well taken care of and well fed with their thirst quenched." Ja wished to help the Lord of Estermont simply because of their friendship and the long standing connection between their houses. It would do him some good to take a woman to his bed and put to rest the rumors Ja oft heard. Though, he had to admit. if there were swords being swallowed then it did not surprise him it was Lucy.

Valyrians were queer that way. Alas, Lucerys Estermont was a good man. Who needed heirs. They both needed heirs.

luc’s laugh came soft, almost sheepish, as he adjusted his glasses—a nervous habit that betrayed the thoughts racing through his head. "my type?" he echoed, glancing down at the wine goblet in his hand as though it might somehow provide the answer. what even was his type. the gods knew really what was his type. if he could be truthful maybe it would help but maybethe answer felt like it could unravel everything he was supposed to be. did ja already know? already suspect what the real answer was. the way he had hesitated when saying “what was his type…of women” the thought made him swallow hard, though he tried to casually brush it off.

"if i’m honest, i wouldn’t even know where to begin. suppose all the time at the citadel, thinking i was going to be there forever i didnt think about it much." he admitted, forcing his voice to stay light, though his shoulders had tensed. "someone i could talk to, i suppose. someone who… understands things. books, trade, the stars. someone who wouldn’t roll their eyes if i went on about something like histories or navigation charts." he paused, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "not that i imagine anyone like that would leap at the chance to dance with me."

he risked a glance at ja, his old friend who had always been so effortlessly confident. ja made things like this seem so simple, so easy, as if the world itself bent to his charm. luc had always admired that about him, even envied it.

"but you’re right," he added quickly, his words coming out in a hurried rush. "women aren’t scary—not really. it’s more… the expectations, i suppose. knowing how to act, what to say, what’s too much or not enough. that’s the part that leaves me fumbling. gods you should have seen me trying to talk to vhae velerayon. it was truly awful."

luc hesitated, taking a sip of wine to mask the slight waver in his voice. "i suppose i’m just not made for all of this. but you? you thrive in it. i’ve always admired that about you, ja. you make it seem… effortless." he looked back at his friend, offering a small, genuine smile. "but i suppose i’ll have to take your word about the mallister sisters. who knows? maybe you’re onto something."