THE HANGED MAN

“and thank you,” she continued, the faint warmth in her voice a small shield against the memories his presence stirred. “though the hall itself might be doing half the work for me tonight.” there was a lightness to her lips, a trace of the girl she had once been, before war, before absence. she had seen families fractured by loss, men returning altered, some pretending the same, others reshaped beyond recognition. “my family endures,” she said word chosen carefully, with the weight and pride of a stormlander. “we bend, we weather, and we pretend the thunder doesn’t frighten us quite as much as it does.” her tone hovered between humor and gentleness, the honesty of experience layered with an almost imperceptible tenderness.

Her comment about the hall somehow playing a role in how she looked drew the faintest curve to his mouth. It was small, almost uncertain, but real. He knew it was no trick of the light or the environment that made her stand out. Ulises still thought her the loveliest woman he had ever seen. She simply was. But he did not say it. He didn't feel he had the right to say it anymore because their summer happened and their summer ended. He wasn't quite sure what role he might have in her life now. Instead, he let that warmth within his chest remain unspoken and focused instead on what she shared about her family. “All we can do is weather the storms,” he answered in a low tone. It wasn't only the rains and thunderclouds so present in their lands, but the war that tore through the Stormlands. The Dance had set so much aflame, had turned so much to ash. It was hard to tell just how long it would take for that chaos sparked by the Targaryens to truly settle.

Truth be told, his mind still measured everything against that endless horizon. He still compared his present experiences to the silence, the desperation, the peace, the resignation, the endurance. Even now, with lively music playing and the content voices around them, a part of him felt exactly like Vivi had phrased it. Like stepping into someone else's life. Ulises had not only returned to attempt to reclaim some version of himself, but he'd also discovered his father had perished in the very battle that left him adrift. He was a ruling lord, and so he now wore the mantle he'd inherited.

“It does feel that way,” he admitted at last, his voice low and sincere. It was both a relief and somewhat heavy to know someone could see it so plainly. It wasn't that he was hoping to pretend or perform, but he didn't want to present himself as someone broken. He had not been broken, really. He had endured. He had been tested by the Mother and her ocean currents, but the Father and his temperamental storms, and even by the Stranger with his allure to find respite in beginning death's journey. “I’m still… adjusting,” he added. To being back. To being the ruler of his house. To finding all the ways in which his former self wasn't the man staring back in the mirror. “It will take time,” he added, not as an apology but as the simple truth. It would take time to let go of the underlying guilt he felt for his survival and not his father's, and for the changes that didn't reconcile with the person others had hoped to see return instead of who actually came back.

at his question, her lips curved again, gentle and sincere. “braavos is well, and my family with it,” she replied. “busy, as ever, but in good health. i thank you for your prayers, lord trant. they are received with more gratitude than i can easily put to words.” she paused, then added softly, “it pleases me to know that our houses remain connected in your thoughts. i have continue to pray for you and yours, as well.”

her gaze followed his briefly toward the displays he had been studying, and there was a flicker of interest there. “this is the perfect place for a curious mind,” she stated, warmth threading her voice. “the concord lends itself well to that. there is something reassuring in seeing people turn their attentions toward building and understanding, rather than only conquest or grievance.” her fingers laced together lightly, posture composed but open.

The lord's hand rested briefly over his heart as the Braavosi lady let him know his family was in her thoughts and prayers as well. It was true that fate had united their houses in an unexpected way, and Ulises hoped that the tether wouldn't easily break. “I hope you know that you and your family will always be welcomed in Gallowsgrey. I don't believe a formal invitation was ever extended, and I apologize for that,” the lord added with a polite bow of his head. “It would be an honor to host you, to host any member of House Zalyne, in my homeland”. His words were formal, yet the sentiment behind them was undeniably sincere. Ulises tended to be quite serious, unless in the company of his closest friends and family. Yet, right now, there was a hint of warmth in his voice.

The Trant lord's lips tugged up into a subtle smile as Sabiha spoke of the Verdant Concord as the appropriate space for a curious mind. The way her voice shifted a little, rang a little brighter, made him think that she had such a mind. “There is comfort in that, I suppose. It's an optimistic observation,” he mused. It was optimistic to view things as she did, focusing on the building of bridges between regions through art and new technologies. He felt a bit like a hypocrite in Sabiha's presence for a moment, though. He was curious to see it all, of course, and he appreciated the positive environment this gathering appeared to have fostered. But he was also here studying what could be used as a tactical advantage in the event of war, of revolution.

"truth be told, mate, when there was talk of calling it off being thrown about, i almost took the chance then and there," he confessed, an admission he had made to none other. "but it wouldn't have looked good, would it? not for her or me. and besides, she's decent enough as far as potential wives go. i suppose i have to marry someone." he did not delve deeper into the matter, did not share that after losing her inheritance, it felt to him that losing her betrothal was one step too far. that was too sentimental for aemon, and he would hate anyone to think he had a conscious buried under all his bravado.

"it's all just an excuse for a part with some paperwork attached though, isn't it?" he spoke casually, as though it mattered very little. "i try not to think about it too much, anyway. just do me a favour, if i get married and it changes me and i end up going around looking as serious as you do these days, it's up to you to make sure i start seeing sense and acting like myself again." that much, he was serious about, at least.

When Aemon confessed there had been talk of calling off the wedding, however, Ulises stilled. There was a subtle change in his expression, a slight furrowing of his brow. “I didn’t know that,” he said. He was admittedly surprised to learn there had been some matters happening in the background of it all. The Trant lord didn't know the reasons, since Aemon didn't speak of it, but he had a feeling that the optics of it all hadn't been the only reason he chose to move forward with the planned union. “And that was the only reason?” he asked, his voice a little lower. He wasn't trying to be meddlesome. He was merely trying to better understand his friend's decision to opt in or out of this marriage.

At the lord's admission that he had to marry someone, Ulises gave a slow nod. It was true. For men like them it was never a matter of if they would wed one day, but when. Their titles did not allow for indulgent bachelorhood forever, no matter how loudly one laughed and wished to pretend their lives shouldn't change.

Ulises let out a low breath, a half-chuckle, when Aemon teased about not wanting to become serious like him. “As your friend, I suppose that task does fall onto me,” he said, nodding lightly in what seemed agreement to the pact. And perhaps he was partially agreeing to it. Of the two of them, he was without question the serious one. And it was strange how he turned out to be that way. The sea had taken them both once. The depths nearly claimed Aemon in a single violent grab, and yet the Velaryon lord emerged brighter for it, apparently carefree and more alive after the incident. For his part, Ulises had drifted for weeks between the ocean and the sky, and he returned almost hollowed-out, quieter, dimmer. There was an asymmetry there that he couldn't fully understand. Aemon was casual. Ulises could not be. And yet they remained friends, despite standing on opposite ends of the spectrum about several things.

it was day three of minthara's stay at gallowsgrey, and she was beginning to grow restless. it would be different if she was here by choice. it was the time of year where the stormlands lived up to its name, lightening whip-cracking through the sky and wind howling rather than whistling. even in the quieter moments, when one storm had burned out its rage and the next hadn't quite found it's own, a grey, drizzling mist pressed against the windows, fogging them up from the inside and out and making visibility poor. it would be stupid to board a ship in these conditions, and so instead of returning home, she had sought refuge with her trant cousins.

weather like this made her think of her father, and her poor brother, the two of them lost to the sea. it was not a heartbreak she spoke of often, mainly because finding the words to do so was a struggle, but something about the prospect of sailing through the storm meant that it was never far from the forefront of her mind. and yet, despite this, she felt unmoored, as though she was holding her breath until the sky cleared enough that she could complete her journey home.

it made her even more difficult to live with than she normally was. the weather confined her to the keep, trapping her indoors, and she was spending her time drifting from room to room, moving to the next when she got sick of looking at the same four walls. in her wake, she left a mess - half-drunk cups of tea that had grown cold abandoned behind her, shawls she had forgotten she'd brought into a room left behind on the floor, books pulled off the shelf at random and not put back, balled up scraps of paper where she had started writing and decided she hated it. the evidence of minty was everywhere, in every room, even ones she had stopped frequenting.

she had not even known this room was here, but it did not take her long to realise that it must be ulises' study. she should have turned back around and left once she came to that conclusion, but she hadn't. instead, she'd been nosy, opening drawers to rifle through them, touching trinkets, helping herself to a glass of gallowsgrey tequila. if she took too much of it, she could always fill the bottle with water. nobody would be any the wiser.

her gaze started up as the door swung open, and she found herself face-to-face with ulises, glass in one hand, the other still in his desk drawer. "i wasn't doing anything," she said, immediately, before he had even spoken, whipping her hand out of the drawer and nudging it closed with her knee. "just looking. besides, the door wasn't even locked." it was the words of someone far too used to being caught somewhere that she shouldn't be, and already had her protests ready to deploy.

"anyway, i'm bored," her tone now took on a whiny quality, as though her restless mental state was all his fault. it wasn't entirely fair - granting her shelter had been kind of ulises to do, but neither was she particularly in the mood for gratitude. "there's nothing to do stuck inside all day." had the weather been better, she could have amused herself exploring outside, rather than being left feeling as though the walls were pressing in on her.

Somehow, it wasn't at all surprising that she didn't waste any time getting up to some mischief. The faint rustling he could hear inside his study as he approached was a dead giveaway that someone was there. And there was his cousin, tequila in hand, caught red-handed with one of the desk's drawers open. “Someone who hasn't done anything usually doesn't have to state it, Minty,” he stated plainly as he stood at the door. He wasn't pleased by catching her snooping, of course, but he also didn't display any outright anger. He had the sort of demeanor of someone who appeared more disappointed than angry. Which, he knew, usually felt worse when on the receiving end of it.

“Please be bored without snooping into my things next time, yeah?” Ulises added as he walked over to this desk, closing the drawer she'd kept open. He felt an uncomfortable, uncertain feeling, wondering just how much his cousin had read. How much she had understood, from the writings and letters scribbled in both the common tongue and his native one. Ulises kept nothing that might make him feel fully exposed, but still, it wasn't particularly comfortable to have others read your things without permission. Most people in Gallowsgrey knew not to enter his study out of respect, even if it wasn't kept under lock and key. Minty wasn't of Gallowsgrey, clearly.

“You do this kind of thing often, don't you?” he added with a subtle chuckle, softening only so slightly, “You're awfully calm after having been caught”. He extended his hand so she would hand over the bottle of tequila. Instead of storing it back into its rightful place, he pulled out two small glasses and poured one drink for Minthara and one for himself. His cousin had made herself comfortable on his chair, and Ulises remained standing as he downed his drink in one quick gulp. Some people found Gallowsgrey's distinctive drink too strong, too burning, but Ulises found it soothing.

context: sabiha was aboard the merchant ship, owned by her family, that found and rescued ulises during the dance.

the sun cast a warm glow over highgarden, softening the edges of the towering roses and trimmed hedges that marked the paths of the verdant concord. sabiha moved slowly through the courtyard, her eyes attentive to the subtle movements around her, noting the way sunlight pooled against stone and how voices shifted with the breeze. her gaze settled on a figure near the edge of the gathering, a man whose posture and bearing stirred a faint recognition deep in her memory.

her lips curved into a small, controlled smile. it had been many years since she had seen him, but she would recognize him anywhere. lord trant. she inclined her head slightly, a quiet warmth threading her precise movements. “lord trant, it is good to see you,” she said, her voice steady and measured. “you look well.”

her dark eyes lingered on him thoughtfully, noting the subtle changes time had brought. “how is your home?” she asked gently, with some knowledge and whispers of how the dragon king ruled over the stormlands, there was a bit of curiosity in her that she attempted to simmer down. “and are you enjoying the gathering? highgarden can be… lively.” she gave a laugh. "it's pretty much as i've read it to be, though this gathering has been interesting."

When she called his name and his gaze lifted, the recognition came swiftly, even if it had been a long time since he had last seen the Braavosi woman. Ulises tilted his head in a polite greeting. “Lady Sabiha,” he said in a serene manner, though the visceral memory of their first encounter, in such pivotal circumstances, was hard to suppress. “It is good to see you as well”.

He acknowledged her words with a faint nod. He had been well, yes. Any sort of appearance would be an improvement compared to the emaciated, sunburnt, half-dead soul that her family's merchant ship plucked from the ocean's grip. The lord looked healthy once more, though some indelible marks of the experience remained on his skin, in his eyes. Instead of focusing on himself, Ulises opted to focus on her inquiry about his home. There was little he could say truthfully in a space like this, however. “My home remains steady,” he said, his tone measured. “And we continue to be blessed, thank the gods”. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. He knew better than to speak plainly about the current state of the Stormlands, stained by the pretentious name of New Valyria.

His dark gaze stayed on her, and with subtle curiosity, he asked, “And Braavos? I hope that your family, that your house is well”. There was something solemn in his words, something that hinted at his gratitude for the Zalyne house. “After all these years, your house remains in my prayers. I ask that the gods look after you all, that they give you good fortune”. It went without saying that he hadn't forgotten what she and her family had done for him. It was inevitable for Ulises to feel that in some ways, there was a debt there that he hadn't yet fully repaid.

When she spoke of Highgarden, Ulises glanced around, one brow lifting subtly as if in acknowledgment of how different this was for him. The rhythm of the Reach and the abundance of everything surrounding him were so unlike Gallowsgrey. “It is lively,” he agreed, a slight hint of dry amusement in his tone. “I admit I am enjoying the chance to see what others have brought to offer. There are many things one would not encounter without a gathering such as this,” he added, stormy eyes briefly glancing in the direction of the display he'd been interested in some minutes ago.

the rain had come early that morning, soft and steady against the windows of rain house, a sound that morgan had always found grounding. the hall was lit warmly for once, the great hearth alive with fire, candles scattered along the long oak table where friends and family gathered. birthdays had never been much of a spectacle for him, he preferred quiet evenings to lavish feasts, but his steward and kin had insisted. there was food enough to feed twice their number, and casks of wine had already been opened.

morgan stood near the edge of the room, half in conversation and half apart from it, a cup in hand, his blue gaze tracking the familiar flicker of firelight on the wet stone. he wasn’t one for speeches or toasts, though he’d nodded politely through a few offered in his honor. his contentment came in quieter forms, in the murmur of voices, the scent of rain through the open windows, and the rare ease of company without duty pressing close behind.

It wasn't long before the Lord of the Rain House approached him, and a faint, genuine smile crossed Ulises' lips. “A stormy day doesn't keep me from the road, my friend. I was not going to miss the chance to toast to your good health today,” the Trant lord answered. They were men of the Stormlands, after all. It took much more than thunder and rain to keep men like them in place. Ulises turned briefly to the table again to pour a second cup of wine for Morgan. “Happy name day. May the gods bless you this year,” he added as he handed over the drink to Morgan and raised the cup he'd poured himself a moment ago.

the stormlands hall was loud with forced cheer, the rough laughter of lords echoing off stone walls still damp from the season’s endless rains. banners of houses both proud and weary hung overhead, some frayed, some stained by travel and weather and war rather than ceremony. wine flowed freely, drums beat in uneven rhythm, and somewhere a fiddler scraped out a tune meant to sound triumphant. this was not some king's hall, there was no gold, no polished marble, but there was firelight and stubborn joy, and that, in its own way, felt truer. still, vivienne penrose stood slightly apart, glass in hand, the wine warm against her palm but doing little to soften the quiet vigilance settled in her bones. these gatherings were meant to keep spirits high while war gnawed at the edges of their lands, but celebration had begun to taste like ash.

her gaze moved across the hall, sharp beneath the veneer of grace. she read faces the way she read music — in tension, in breath, in the small notes between words. men she once knew moved differently now, carrying new weight in their shoulders; women laughed too brightly, as if trying to drown out the sound of distant thunder. then, through the smoke and flicker of torchlight, she saw him. or perhaps she only saw the shape of a memory at first, but her heart knew before her mind could catch up. a steady thrum rose in her chest, urgent and startling, not fear, not quite relief, but something dangerously close to both.

“ulises!” the name left her like an exhale she’d been holding for years, clear enough to cut through the music and the clamor of voices. it felt strange on her tongue, too familiar and too foreign all at once, as though she were calling to someone half-living, half-remembered. they had said he’d vanished, said he’d died, said a dozen things that never once sounded like truth, but truth was standing before her now, marked by war but unmistakably him. she did not falter, did not allow herself the luxury of disbelief. she had loved him once in a summer that felt like it would never end, and no rain, no war, no passing of grim seasons could steal that recognition from her.

Ulises didn't entirely keep to himself, he was flanked by his siblings and engaging in simple pleasantries as they were greeted by other lords and ladies of the Stormlands. Still, he felt somewhat out of place, still adjusting to the noise of people gathering, to music, to the aroma of feasts. It was strange how easily all of it could be taken for granted. Perhaps the day would come when he could more easily reconcile being back, when he could enjoy it without the weight in his chest. But that day hadn't come yet. He still carried the shift his mind went through because of the basic survival of his days at sea. He still compared and contrasted. He still felt tied to that piece of wood that became his whole world as he floated in the vast emptiness of the ocean.

The moment he heard her voice, he felt a pang a guilt go through him. He knew it was a matter of time before he saw Vivienne again, before she saw the man who returned and noticed all the pieces of him that did drown. “Hi Vivienne,” he greeted her softly, his voice low, a bit raspier than it used to be. Even his voice had changed, morphed by the many days of silence and solitude he endured. “It is me,” Ulises answered plainly, attempting a brief smile that was barely noticeable on his lips. Her comment sparked some warmth in his chest, a subtle flame attempting to keep him normal and human. “You're the first one to say that,” he murmured. Most people had been pointing out how different he looked. The longer hair, the sharper lines of his face, the weight he hadn't fully regained. His body had become so accustomed to hunger that he had been gradually teaching himself to eat a healthy amount again. Despite his hunger, he could only eat a small amount during the first days back home. Even when he wanted to eat more, a bowl of broth and a small piece of bread were all he could stomach before an odd feeling of nausea set in.

the gardens of the concord were meant for leisure, yet yelizaveta celtigar had never been one for leisure. each banner, each noble face, each slip of gossip in the breeze—she catalogued them with hawk-like precision, her gaze flicking from one corner of the exhibition to the next as though the world itself were hers to dissect.

the blood-red silk of her gown trailed like a spill of wine in her wake, catching the light as she moved unhurriedly through the throng. a delicate parasol rested easily in her hand, its shadow shielding her from the sun but not from notice. for notice was what she invited; let them see her, let them whisper her name, let them wonder.

yet when she paused, when she allowed her parasol to tilt just so and her lips to curve into a smile, her sharpness softened into something warmer. cordial, inviting, deceptively harmless. “what a marvel” she murmured to the person next to her though her voice carried easily enough to draw an answer. “so many faces gathered in one place. so many stories waiting to be told.”

her eyes lifted, catching the next gaze that dared meet her own. a tilt of her head, a welcoming smile, and the sense that perhaps this was not chance at all, but choice.

“tell me” eliza said smoothly, “are you here for something in particular? or just here to enjoy?”

Ulises had spent the better part of the morning not perusing through the stalls of artistic pieces of jewelry or standing before exhibits of whimsical inventions, but with the specialized librarians and archivists who lingered at the edges of the most extravagant spaces of Concord. A few tomes and weathered parchments now rested beneath his arm, which were both pieces of art and of memory. The Trant lord had been studious since his youth, though he cared little for what could remain mere theory and stay in the realms of intellect alone. He wished to understand the practicality of it all, how to transform ideas into tools, into resources, into answers. And the fragments of Stormlands' ancient history he acquired could serve just that purpose.

Carrying those items he acquired, he didn't look like a scholar, however. He carried himself with the kind of martial posture of a weathered Stormborn lord. And when the lady's lilac eyes caught his own, he thought of her as a peacock out of place. It was customary for many Valyrian folk, he supposed, to make a deliberate spectacle of themselves. What was it in their blood that seemed to crave reverence, to be worshipped even in the smallest gestures?

"well enough," in an instant, the frown on his face had disappeared, and but for the extra stubble around his neatly-kept beard and the slight bloodshot of his eyes, it was impossible to tell he was suffering a hangover at all. "or i will be when this paperwork is done." he set it to the side for now. there would be time to finish it later, if he could be bothered to do so. "still waiting for some people to confirm their attendance - i think morgan wylde's disappeared off into the rainwood again, missed the invitation." to aemon, that was the most important thing. not his bride, not the fact he was tying himself to vivienne penrose for a life time, but the spectacle of it, and who would be there to witness it. he was not thinking about the reality of it all, or how his life would need to change, for he was not planning on changing at all.

he took the bottle, eyeing its content with interest. it brought back fond memories of his time in gallowsgrey and its agave fields. "remember the time you sent me to help with the harvesting?" a grin had appeared on his face. "soon changed your mind, didn't you? don't think anybody has ever fucked up that badly before. he'd ended up hacking the thing to bits before ulises had, sensibly, sent him to do literally anything else, and had spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in the sun watching everyone else do the hard work for him.

Ulises looked at the glass that had been nudged his way, the faintest tug of a smile appearing on his lips. “I remember,” he answered, his voice even, though his dark eyes carried a gleam of amusement. “I'd never seen anyone massacre an agave like that before. I should've charged you for the damage”. His tone was wry, but it was softened by the memory that turned out to be quite a fun time to remember. Those days at Gallowsgrey had been easier ones, lighter days during a simpler time.

The Lord of Gallowsgrey, the one some called the Hanged Man for the gloomy air about him, actually smiled when his friend opened the bottle of tequila and chose to drink some of it with him. “Well, it's yours. You get to choose how it's shared,” he said as he took the glass in his hand, lifting it for Aemon to pour some of the rich, amber-colored drink. Aemon's bride would get to try it on another occasion. For a moment, the thought of Vivienne Penrose hovered at the edges of his mind like a specter trying to be recalled, but he pushed it away. That had been another life. A younger man’s life. Ulises would always cherish the memory of the love they once felt for each other, but so much of the young man he'd been then had drowned in the ocean that nearly swallowed him whole. When the sea spat him out, Ulises Lazarus Trant had inevitably returned as a changed man.

stepping out of the booth, dacey saw the second round of pictures had already been printed, picking up the strip and taking them in with a smile before offering it to ulises to look at. "see? much better. we just needed to practice."

her gaze swept around the fair, noting familiar faces, and those that were less familiar. "did we really go to school with this many people?" she mused out loud. "it didn't seem like so many at the time. though i suppose some of the people here are just guests, aren't they?"

Once outside the booth, he stood close to Dacey as they saw the results of their second photoshoot. “I love these,” Ulises murmured, a tender smile appearing on his lips. The first ones they took were cuter while these were a bit more playful, and both seemed so romantic to Ulises. “Can I keep these?” he asked. He could already picture having them at one of their bookcases at their place, so the pictures would be more theirs than his anyway.

Ulises' hand slipped into hers and he looked around the fair as well when they walked. “Yeah, a lot of people came here. A lot comes back to this place,” he said, which felt like a massive understatement considering so many of those in their social circle came from this place. It all connected back to this school in one way or another. Ulises wouldn't have befriended Adam if it wasn't for this school, and he wouldn't have met Dacey. “I've seen alumni from so many different years too. I guess that's why it feels like so many of us showed up”. A good sign, he thought. With so many alumni, it was possible the donation efforts would meet their goal.

“I'm sure. Come on,” he said with a nod, confirming he really was eager to take some more pictures with his girlfriend. With their first set of pictures safely tucked inside Dacey's wallet, they were back in for another round of photos inside the booth. Ulises wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer. He felt Dacey's kiss on his cheek, which immediately made him grin for the first picture. Ulises allowed himself to be a little sillier and have fun with her, winking at the camera for the second picture. He turned to look at her for the third one, just pausing there. Ulises looked at her with so much warmth and adoration in his eyes, but that look wasn't for the camera, it was just for Dacey. His free hand moved up, slipping to the back of her neck and he leaned in to kiss her. He had no clue at what point the fourth picture was taken.

"i think i had my eyes closed for that last one," dacey admitted, leaning against the outside of the photobooth as she waited for the little strip of pictures they had just taken to develop. it had seemed like a fun, cute idea at the time, but almost immediately as she had stepped into the cramped booth, she had been unsure how to pose, what to do with her face, where to put her arms, and she was sure that they'd just taken nearly four identical photos.

the strip finally printed, and she picked it up, gingerly, careful not to smudge it before it dried. "yep. see? eyes closed." she sighed a little, before a smile came over her face. "i like the first picture, though." in it, ulises was facing the camera, but dacey wasn't, her chin upturned to instead look at him. she looked happy. "do you want this, or can i keep it?"