hugovance

[hugovance]

Hugo Vance made his way through the festive crowd, his black tunic embroidered with subtle golden patterns at the cuffs and neckline catching the light with every movement. His golden mantle hung loosely over his shoulders, clasped with a dragon-shaped brooch, the deep shade of the fabric contrasting sharply with the golden lanterns glowing warmly around him. His eyes, always watchful, scanned the busy scene, but it was a familiar voice that soon broke through the noise, calling his name.

"Elys Brax," Hugo said, his grin wide as he caught sight of his friend. "Now there’s a happy sight, indeed."

He strode toward him, his step light, and when he arrived, Elys clapped him on the shoulder in his usual boisterous manner. Hugo gave a laugh and raised an eyebrow at the merchant’s display, his hands clasping together as he tilted his head. "A cask aged since the coronation of Maegor the Cruel? Bold claims indeed. Boldness and honesty, as you well know, are very distant cousins. In some cases, they’re a branch on entirely trees."

Hugo’s smile only widened as the merchant scrambled to fulfill his orders. He watched the man hurry about with amusement before taking the cup that was pressed into his hands. Raising it high, he said, “To the little prince. May the gods bless him with a long and prosperous life.”

His eyes twinkled as he turned to Elys, his voice filled with warmth and camaraderie. “And to us, old friend. Let us drink until we forget the purpose of feet.”

closed starter for @hugovance setting : flashback to lann's day festival context : name a more unlikely friendship than elys brax and hugo vance

the streets were alive with merriment, the lann's day festival in full swing. lanterns of gold and crimson hung from every corner, their warm glow illuminating the night, and for a change, elys brax was in a good mood, allowing the festivities to lift his own spirits. music drifted from the nearby performers, a lively tune competing with the laughter and chatter of the crowd. stalls lined the streets, selling everything from hot spiced meats to jewellery, but it was the mine merchant's stand that elys found himself leaning against, swirling his drink in his goblet.

it gave him a good vantage point of the festival, just slightly apart from the busiest part of the crowd. he was unmasked, not having arrived wearing one, his sharp attire immaculate even in the middle of the chaos. at his collar was a unicorn pin, silver filigree and inlaid with amythests, that glistened when he turned his head, watching the debauchery with amusement, and it was that he caught sight of a figure both familiar and welcome to him.

"hugo vance," his voice boomed as he raised a glove hand to catch hugo's attention and beckon him over. "now there's a happy sight." once hugo had reached his side, he clapped his shoulder in greeting, before gesturing toward the stall with a faint smirk. "this good fellow here claims to have a cask he'll open just for me, aged since the coronation of maegor the cruel. a bold claim, wouldn't you agree, to hold on to a vintage so fine? though boldness and honesty are often distant cousins, in my experience." the look he gave the merchant was pointed, as though daring him to challenge the fact elys was all but naming him a liar.

"well go on then, man. what are you waiting for? open the cask, my friend here looks thirsty." he barked his orders, and the merchant hurried to comply. elys finished his first cup, just in time for the second to be pressed into his hand. once both he and hugo were holding a cup of the wine, he raised the cup. "to the little prince," he said. "my great nephew. may the gods favour him. and to us, my friend. it's been too long."

[hugovance]

who: @briannabrackens what: a bit of banter happens between hughie vance and lady brianna bracken when: after yule where: in the halls of riverrun

Hugo Vance’s boots echoed softly against the stone floor as he wandered through the halls of Riverrun. The bustle of the feast was still distant, the hum of voices and laughter reaching him from the great hall, but it was the quiet of the corridors that caught his attention now.

And there she was—alone, standing in a shadowed alcove, as beautiful as ever. Brianna Bracken. Her striking presence filled the space, though her gaze was elsewhere. It wasn’t often he saw her seemingly unguarded, and for a moment, he allowed himself to drink in the sight of her. Hugo’s breath hitched, the familiar flutter of nerves rising in his chest as he straightened up, fighting the impulse to retreat back into the crowd. Instead, he forced himself to step forward, though the nervousness didn’t quite leave his shoulders.

A flash of a grin appeared on his face as he drew closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ah, Lady Brianna,” he called, his voice thick with the lilt of the Riverlands, the warmth of his accent giving the words a softness they might not have carried otherwise. “Tell me—are ye leadin’ more lords astray today, makin’ fools of ‘em so they’re taken by the ghosts of the forests again? Or are ye just enjoying some peace, for once?”

The jest hung in the air, a lighthearted jab aimed at a long-past encounter between them. Hugo took a breath, his usual confidence flickering despite his light tone. “Seems yer talents for mischief haven’t waned,” he added, his grin turning a little more uncertain, as if unsure how far he could push their familiar banter today.

Despite the years that had passed, his admiration for her hadn’t dimmed in the least. It made every word harder to speak—but none more so than the next.

[hugovance]

Hugo chuckled softly at her words, a warmth in his expression as he looked across at Fiadh. "Ah, steal away, then," he said with a wink. "I’ll be expectin’ to hear it pop up in one o’ yer stories soon enough. No doubt ye’ll make it sound a sight better than I ever could." His voice was warm, teasing, as he leaned back in his chair, the familiar comfort of their shared company easing his usual nerves.

When she squeezed his forearm, he let out a small, quiet laugh, the small gesture reminding him of how long they’d been at each other’s sides through everything. “Foolish or not,” he said with a grin, “I’d rather be foolish with ye than alone. There’s worse things than hopin’ for somethin’ better, eh?” His accent rolled with affection, the gentle teasing tone carrying the unspoken bond between them.

His eyes flicked around the room, the cluttered shelves filled with books and papers, the beginnings of something far greater than the sum of its parts. “Aye, this library’s a fine thing, Fiadh. More worthwhile than any marriage contract I’ve seen. It’s a legacy, that’s what it is. Something for the future, something for those who come after us to look back on, and remember that we mattered. Even if it’s just in stories.” His gaze softened as he looked at her, the firelight flickering across her face.

Hugo’s lips twisted into a thoughtful smile. “It might not fix all the messes, but it’s a start, aye?” He shook his head, his expression becoming slightly more serious as he looked back to her. “A start worth fightin’ for.”

When she spoke about the man from Harrenhal, Hugo grinned again, his eyes glinting with mischief. “No doubt ye’ll have his secrets soon enough,” he said, the words infused with quiet confidence in his sister’s determination. “You’ve always had a way with gettin’ people to spill their stories. Maybe ye’ll get him to trade in the dark secrets o’ the past for a story worth tellin’. But no matter how ye do it, I know ye’ll get there.”

At her explanation of her "order," he tilted his head, his lips curling up at the corners. "Order, eh?" he asked, his voice playful. "I suppose I’ll take yer word for it. But there’s somethin’ beautiful about the chaos too. If nothin’ else, it’s kept us both entertained for years." He raised an eyebrow as he added with mock seriousness, “Just don’t let that tea spill, Fiadh. We can’t afford to lose any more of that, now can we?”

as he spoke, fiadh absently pulled a bit of scrap paper and a quill toward her, jotting down his words upon it. "i'm stealing that line," she shot him a crooked grin. "the bit about the cartwheel and the twine. no idea where i'll use it, but i'll find a way." she blew on the page until the ink was dry, or at least, drier, and then lent forward, elbows upon the table and her chin in her hand. "i don't know," her expression was thoughtful. "whenever they brackens and the blackwoods are getting along, it's usually a sign there's a much bigger problem to deal with, like the lyseni. their feud is the way it's always been. when they're in the same room and not focused on insulting each other, that's when you've got an issue, i reckon."

her gaze softened as she turned her head to look at him, fondness evident in the way her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. "if hope is the mark of a fool, then let the pair of us remain foolish." her hand darted out, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze.

her feet lifted off the ground, and she tucked them beneath her, arranging her skirts around her. "this library, though. i think there's more hope in that than in wedding bands." she saw it when she stood up at feasts, when she picked up her lute to sing. it was in the way she had made easy friendships across the continent, bound by nothing but a love of stories, the good and the grim. there was something in it, even if it was just a distraction. "and we've made a fine start already," she gestured to the room, the walls covered in shelves with row after row of tomes, piles on every available surface.

"i'll find out his name before i write," she nodded. it was more polite that way. "and if he won't part with harrenhal's secrets willingly at first, i'll keep writing until he does." of everyone, hugo knew she could be persistent when she put her mind to something. the problem was more one of keeping her mind focused on it.

"hmm?" confusion briefly crossed her face, until she noticed that he was gesturing to her teacup. she let out a laugh, arranging the chaos that was her desk until there was a free surface to move the cup on to. "i'll have you know there's an order to this chaos. it all makes sense if you don't try and think about it too hard."

[hugovance]

Hugo listened quietly, his expression unreadable as Ben’s temper flared. The Blackwood lord’s voice grew sharper, his words like thunder echoing off the stone walls, but Hugo did not rise to meet the anger. He simply stood there, hands clasped in front of him, allowing Ben's outburst to unfold.

When the room fell silent again, Hugo’s wry smile softened, though there was no humor in it now. His green eyes held steady, never leaving Ben’s face. "Ah, Lord Blackwood," he said, his voice steady and measured, though his thick Riverlands accent carried a weight of both authority and familiarity. "It seems we’ve a bit o' misunderstanding, don’t we?"

He took a slow step forward, his boots silent on the stone floor, and leaned just slightly toward the table, as if the proximity might ease the tension. "I’ll tell ye this plainly, so there’s no mistakin’ my words: I don’t take kindly to men causin’ trouble, no matter their banner. Bracken’s lot started this, aye, but I’ve yet to hear one of yer own men tell me that they weren’t involved, just as much as the rest. You ask a Blackwood and they blame a Bracken, you ask a Bracken and it were you lot."

"The law’s simple, my lord," Hugo continued, his tone sharpening ever so slightly, but still carrying that lilt that made it hard to take offense. "I cannae make exceptions, no matter how much I might like to. A merchant’s dead. Men are bruised and bleedin'. And our Queen is new to her reign."

Hugo straightened, taking a step back, his smile returning, though it was faint and serious. "As for the toll, aye, I’ll be seeing Lord Bracken as well. But until then, the law stands. No one’s above it—not even ye, my lord."

there was a moment where ben was listening to hugo, his expression polite, if not particularly interested in the topic of conversation. so blackwoods and brackens had clashed - it was hardly news. they fought each other all the time. but the more hugo vance spoke, the more ben saw red, the polite smile wiped from his face and a storm brewing in his dark eyes.

"so let me get this straight," his grip tightened on the leather of the armrest, his voice low, but hard as iron. "bracken's lot sweep in and start it, and you expect my men to pay the price? have i actually heard you right there, lord vance?" he paused for a moment, the fire crackling the only sound in the room. he were giving hugo the opportunity to tell him he had heard wrong, that he was utterly mistaken, but it did not come.

"no." he said, flatly. "my men will be paying no fines for this, lord vance. if bracken's dogs can't keep their hands off our carts, then the blood's on them. you will not punish us for defending what's ours." suspicion clouded his expression as he sat forward, his whole body taut like a bowstring ready to snap. had a fine really been issued to both sides, or was hugo saying that to placate him? was he allowing ronan to do as he pleased, because he wore the hands pin, while demanding ben pay reparations for it? "you want coin for a dead merchant? send your riders to stone hedge. bracken started this. if there's a toll to pay, he can pay it in full."

ben's jaw was tensed. it was clear he was trying to control his temper, but succeeding horribly in that task. he rose to his feet, chair legs making a horrible screeching sound as they scraped against the stone floor, and began to pace, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. "i'll not be setting a precedent that blackwood men stand by and let bracken take what he pleases from us without answer. and i'll not have you," he jabbed a finger at hugo, "lumping them in with the bastards that struck first. bracken's fine is fair. mine is not."

he let out a huff of air, a deep, exasperated sound. hugo sat there, grinning at him like he was trying to patronise ben into lying down and showing him his belly, and talked of not making exceptions as though he could not see how unfair this was.

[hugovance]

who: @opheliafowler what: in a flashback thread hugo is trying to take initiative and search for a wife, unfortunately for him he does not realize he is about to have an awkward conversation with another man's wife. context: hugo makes mistakes and he is sorry.

Hugo Vance stood at the edge of the garden, his bright green eyes flicking nervously over the array of guests scattered amongst the rose-filled hedges and marble fountains. He was acutely aware of every rustle of fabric, every low murmur of conversation, but he had one singular goal in mind: to finally take initiative in the matter his mother had so often raised. His hands trembled slightly, the fine fabric of his tunic itching at his wrist as he fiddled with the cuff again.

He was dressed in a rich, deep green woolen tunic, embroidered with intricate silver thread that depicted twisting vines along the edges of his sleeves and collar, symbolizing his ties to the Riverlands.

Initiative, he thought to himself. Initiative.

This was supposed to be the moment. Yet, as he stood there, his mind remained clouded with self-doubt. It was difficult to ignore the swirling doubts about whether he was ready to make such a step. His mother would insist, of course, that it was the right time. She had always been right.

And then he saw her.

Whatever her name was.

Her deep raven hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, moved with the grace of a lioness. She looked if she were woven from the very heat of Dorne itself.

Swallowing nervously, Hugo steeled himself and took a few hesitant steps forward. He cleared his throat, trying to steady his nerves, before speaking. "My lady," he began, his voice betraying a tremor, thick with the unmistakable lilt of the Riverlands own rhythm. "Aye, forgive me for...interruptin' yer enjoyin' th' garden." He hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides, as if uncertain what to do with them. "It’s a...lovely day, is it nae?" he added, his words heavy with an unshakable awkwardness. He gave a practiced, smile. "Temperate, even...for a garden luncheon, aye?"

His gaze darted away for a moment, heart hammering in his chest, the slight strain in his tone betraying his nerves.

It was time for Hugo Vance to find a bride.

[hugovance]

who @benblvckwood what: lord vance speaks with lord blackwood about some issues on the roads.

The council chamber was quiet now, save for the crackle of the hearth at the far end of the room. Most of the lords had already departed, leaving the faint scent of wine and ink in their wake. The chamber itself was simple yet dignified—a long table of polished oak stretched the length of the room, surrounded by chairs marked with the sigils of their respective houses. The stone walls were adorned with tapestries of rivers and willows, their muted colors soft in the firelight.

Hugo Vance lingered near the table’s head, his posture relaxed but his attention keen. He was dressed in a dark green tunic embroidered with intricate golden patterns at the cuffs and neckline, a subtle nod to his house’s wealth and taste. A black dragon-shaped brooch clasped his crimson mantle at the shoulder, and a thin leather belt held a small knife at his side.

He turned toward Ben with a small, wry smile, though his blue eyes carried the weight of the subject at hand. “Ah, Lord Blackwood,” he began, his words rolling with a lilt that softened the edge of his formality. “Seems th’Fairmarket road’s grown a mite too lively these days, aye? Yer lads an’ Bracken’s clashed again—this time o’er, what was it now? A cart o’ timber, if I’ve heard true. Left a merchant stone dead, three o’ mine bruised an’ bleedin’, an’ th’poor travelers skittish as hares.”

Hugo stepped closer to the table, his hands resting lightly on the smooth wood as he leaned forward, the firelight catching the gold trim on his sleeves. “Now, as ye’d expect, I’ve gone an’ issued fines t’both sides. Bracken’s lot fer their rashness, an’ yer own fer stirrin’ the pot, so t’speak. The law’s the law, my lord, an’ it makes no exceptions—not even fer the likes o’ Bracken or Blackwood.”

Straightening again, he clasped his hands loosely in front of him, his smile faint but present. Though his voice carried warmth, there was no mistaking the seriousness beneath it. The cadence of his words may have sounded effortless, but his tone made it clear that Hugo was a man who expected the law to be upheld.

[hugovance]

Hugo leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smirk curling his lips as he spoke, his words thick with the rolling cadence of his accent. “Ah, ye’ve the right of it, sure enough,” he began, his green eyes glinting with humor. “The Blackwoods and the Brackens are as old a feud as the hills themselves, older than the stones of Harrenhal, I’d wager. Tryin’ to bind ‘em together with a weddin’ band’d be like tryin’ to fix a broken cartwheel with a bit o’ twine—looks well enough ‘til ye try to roll it down the road.” He chuckled low, shaking his head. “Aye, it was a fool’s thought, I’ll grant ye, but mayhap I’ve still a speck of hope left that some troubles can be mended with good sense and goodwill.”

He reached for his tea and took a sip, his expression unbothered by the chill of it, before settin’ the cup down with deliberate care. His gaze flicked to her own cup teeterin’ on a pile of books, but he said nothin’. Best not to meddle in Fiadh’s ways—it was her chaos, and it seemed to work for her well enough.

“As for Harrenhal,” he went on, his tone a touch more serious, “the name slips my mind. Though whether the man’s the sort to know what treasures lie buried in them cursed halls, or if he’d part with ‘em even if he did, well, that’s another matter. But if anyone can wheedle the truth out of him, it’s yerself. Write to the man, by all means. If we’re to build this great library o’ yours, let it be filled with truths, not just fair tales and fancy.”

His smile softened as he looked back at her. “It’s a grand vision ye’ve got, Fiadh, and a fine one for the Riverlands. Somethin’ worth leavin’ behind for the folk who’ll come after us. Mayhap it won’t end old grudges, but it might remind ‘em all of what we share—a bloody, messy history, aye, but ours all the same.”

His tone turned wry as he added, with a nod to her cup, “And speakin’ of bloody messes, try not to let that tea of yours topple. It’s the only thing here not already part o’ the cluttered masterpiece ye call a system.”

there were many things fiadh admired about her little brother, but not least the way his mind always sought to find a solution. her head tilted, lips curving into a fond smile. "perhaps you're right. i'd still like to get my hands on the original documents, though, translate them myself. who is harrenhal's castellan, these days? perhaps i ought to write to them." if there was an original copy to be found, it would be there. "if we're going to record the histories, we should make sure it's accurate." and therein was the skill of fiadh vance, the way she sought to weave the truth into art, rather than refusing to let it get in the way of a good story.

"we could do it," in another, it might have sounded arrogant, and perhaps it was, but there was no cockiness in fiadh's voice, just enthusiasm and hope. "i'd like to think that between the two of us, we can build something useful here. for the riverlands, not just house vance." the reach had the citadel, the north the wall. why could the vances not give the riverlands their own hub of knowledge, of histories? fiadh did not know if anything she did, any of her writings or stories would stand the test of time, but she liked the idea of leaving an echo of herself somewhere, that should she have grandchildren or great-granchildren, there would be something or somewhere to wave at them from the past.

and though hugo's ideas were often noble ones, ones fiadh found herself in agreement with, his notion of marrying a bracken to a blackwood had a flicker of something like disapproval crossing her features, unable to hide the fact she didn't like the idea very much. the brackens were few in number. hugo's suggestion meant that either bloody ben would take brianna to wife, or ronan to take the lady agnes blackwood. she did not much like the idea of either. "you're right. they would run you through." she kept her tone light, taking another sip of her long-cold tea. "besides, it's been done. more than once. and it's never actually worked."

she set the cup down on a pile of books, and it wobbled precariously, but held firm. fiadh didn't seem to notice. "i know you want to do what's best for the riverlands. that's why you're the sentinel, after all. but i can't help thinking forcing unity where it doesn't exist will backfire in the end. if it were that easy, the blackwoods and the brackens would have been singing love songs to each other centuries ago, and calling each other kin now."

[hugovance]

LEO WOODALL - Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy Trailer (x)

[hugovance]

"I don't know if it's a mistranslation it could be a metaphor or a fit of madness. In grief people do strange things to themselves and others. The last King Consort of our late seven kingdoms himself fell into a pit of madness they say. Perhaps it was Harrenhal herself that drove his wife into grief and madness. Build your keep from the bones of Gods and things happen." Hugo carefully laid down the scroll. "If there's more make sure to bind it together. We can make some important text and see the histories of the Riverlands grow. We could have a library as great and as full of old knowledge as the one at the Wall."

It was a pity he could never take his sister to the wall. Perhaps once the men were honorable again, warriors and not the realms criminals. So many were sent to the wall by Queen Rhaenyra and of those who made it perhaps they took honor with them.

And as the subject changed he smiled at her. Her mind was a wonder to him. He was proud of her for not allowing sitting things to get in her way. It was wise to educate sisters for they would be ladies of hopefully great keeps. They kept it all together when the men were at their tables arguing. Further proven by their queen and her abilities to where a crown of the Rivers.

He shrugged slightly, "No trouble. Luckily I was on duty or there would have been more trouble. Brackens and Blackwoods and their feud. I fear it will come to a head again and again until we can find unity. A common ground." He chuckled a bit, "we could suggest a marriage but I fear Ronan Bracken or Bloody Ben would run me through." His chuckle light, getting louder as he finished.

Hugo reached out and picked up a cup taking a drink, he didn't mind the tea being cold, with the orange slice and sugar cubes it made for a refreshing drink but he wouldn't start that conversation again, he barely left his last tea in tact after an afternoon with their mother.

"The roads are safe, safer than they were before the dance if I say so. Though, the men that are guarding the roads, I await the raven that says some Bracken or Blackwood fell foul of the others men. The queen needs unity at this time."

closed starter for @hugovance

at first glance, the room fiadh had commandeered at wayfarer's rest to serve as her study. sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the clutter within. it was not an unclean place - simply littered with stacks of books and papers covered in fiadh's own handwriting and doodles where her mind had wandered. in the corner, her lute was propped against the wall, by the fire, a basket where her fat, pregnant dog snoozed, and the few spots where there was available surface space, vases of wildflowers. it may not have looked at it, but there was a sort of care beneath the mess, an order to the disarray. everything had its place.

she'd managed to clear a bit of space at the table, where she sat with hugo, showing him a document she had unearthed from deep within their archives. "i think it's from the time of harren the black," her face was deep in thought, a crease appearing between her brow. "it's a lament, you see. written for a wife for her murdered husband. it's sad."

her fingers drifted down the paper, stopping to tap a particular line. "it's this bit that's giving me the trouble. it says that... well, that the wife drank his blood. after he died, i mean. but that can't be right, can it? it must be a mistranslation from the original."

shaking her head, fiadh looked up from the old parchment, leaning back in her chair and focusing her attention on hugo. "the past is the past, i suppose. but i'd still like to figure out the true story." she picked up her cup of tea, took a sip, and made a face. "eurgh, it's gone cold. anyway," the change of subject was abrupt, as it usually was with fiadh. her brain worked quickly, jumping from one conversation to the other. "i heard you were involved in a ruckus in riverrun the other day. something about the blackwoods and brackens. was it serious?"

[hugovance]

ADAM BRODY as DANIEL LE DOMAS READY OR NOT (2019) • dir. MATT BETTINELLI-OLPIN & TYLER GILLETT

[hugovance]

What was it like for a lady or a queen to live in a place like New Valyria, he wondered. Did the queen worry the burned dragon would take his sister to wife? Would there be more wars? Small ones, of course, who would be fool enough to thrust support behind - ah, right, King Tyland Lannister. Not a fool at all. Calculated wealth. It oozed from him and Hugo wished to know more but lions bit and who willing stuck their head in the lions mouth?

Well, Jaehaerys Targaryen but he was mad by all accounts. Hugo wouldn't speculate openly. That would only lead him to an odd place.

"I love art, I do, and I have to say it is mighty beautiful here. They styles are different and the eyes here in your statues, they really look at you." It was a reason there were not statues in Wayfaere, he were weary of great stone and marble men with eyes. He'd seen those Heart trees, the"sap" around their mouths that smelled of blood. If trees were devine, he didn't want to be around when statues woke up.

"The Riverlands, I feel, is where you find the best music, your grace." He added it as he couldn't recall if he said it before. "Clover folk are made of music. The sound of the devine I say."

"I consider myself a humble student of the arts, I would wish to learn more of these Westerland creations. What among us is your favorite, your grace." Hugo smiled as he looked around the room and then back at her. Why were queens so pretty? Had there ever been an ugly queen?

where there was art, the queen of the new valyria could be found. she was always drawn to it. she spotted the tapestry and made her way over, not taking note of who she was in the company of. “the honour is mine, my lord.” the words were easily spoken, they required no thought. it was a response she had used often by now. it was only when she actually took a moment to look at who had spoken that she recognised him. lenora could not place every face nor did she recognise every house, but she had prioritised familiarising herself with the houses of the small councils across the kingdoms. those who were known, at least.

she stood and took in the majesty of the tapestry, the image of the dragon that had once belonged to her husband. “i am always glad to be home.” it had been nice to return to a kingdom where she truly belonged, where her westerlands features could be seen in others. golden hair was the norm here, she could recognise her eyes among her kin. but mostly she enjoyed not having to be watched by a crowd of lilac eyes that judged her for not having valyrian blood. “i am pleased you enjoy it here, lord vance. although i feel like i must say that our art is often overlooked in favour of that of the reach. i believe the art of the west to be even more beautiful. more authentic.” while she had begrudgingly enjoyed the gardens of highgarden, lenora did not have much good to say about the kingdom or its ruler. she had attempted to make amends with the current lord of oldtown, but she had still not forgiven nor forgotten how calla had been treated. she knew the artists of the reach would be offended if they overheard her, and she decided that she did not care. “admittedly, i might be biased.”

[hugovance]

who: @lencra when: flashback, westerlands where: arts market

"I have never seen such beautiful art beyond the reaches of the Reach." Hugo spoke as he walked over to stand before one of the tapestries. It was a grand display of Vermithor mounted by the last living Dragon King if one ignored those on their stone. And while Hugo did not have a hint of admiration for the man who ruled New Valyria, he appreciated a man of the arts. Or, perhaps, a realm that appreciated the arts. It was what he enjoyed of the Reach, flowery and pompous but brilliant. As brilliant as they were cunning.

As he turned his head he recognized the woman because he had a knack for faces and names and this face belong to the dragon king's queen and as such he bowed forward. "Your Highness, an honor to meet you." He stood up and looked back at the tapestry. "Are you glad to be back in the Westerlands? Beautiful lands." Half as nice as the Riverlands but twice as nice as the Crownlands. Who wouldn't miss being home?

[hugovance]

There was a call for him, an out of breath squire panting as he explained what was happening, words that sent the Lord of House Vance to his feet and charging towards the fray, knights falling in line with him. Should would be useless, and yet he still shouted. The typically easy going man wore a stern expression and as the lords were grabbed along with their men he rested his forearm on the hilt of this sword and waited, watching as Ronan trashed about.

"That's enough that, my lords. By order of your Queen sheathed your swords or I will have them taken from you. Personally, I consider it a great dishonor for Lords to have their swords taken from them." And the Lord of Wayfarer did not smile as he closed his hand around the hilt his own sword, his jaw set. "Arrest their men." Hugo spoke the order and his men moved, "put them in the cells until they find their sense."

Hugo then glanced at the Lords, tutting as his hand relaxed and forearm rested against the hilt of the sword. "We have matters of fines to discuss, my lords."

there was a muscle clenched in ben's jaw, a futile attempt to keep hold of what little was left of his control. with each of ronan's taunts, it slipped further from his grasp. and yet, this was a language he understood well, one he had learned before he had ever spoken his first words. he could barely remember his mother, but he had learned to hate all of bracken blood at her breast.

it came so naturally to him. more than being a lord did, or any matters of the council, more so than even being a soldier, he was made for this, for drawing the blood of the house he had been born to hate and seeing his own spilt. if swords were drawn, only one of them would walk away. perhaps neither would.

ben knew this, and yet he drew his sword anyway.

it was an action taken in the heat of the moment, one ben may face consequences for later, yet he knew he would not forget it. the moment steel was in his hand, he was transformed, his mind clearer, his gaze burning into ronan's with a determined sort of focus. "come on, then," he grinned, with all the confidence of a man who did not care what the outcome would be, as long as he went down fighting. he was the first to pull his blade, and yet, he had enough honour not to advance on an unarmed opponent. when it came to the brackens, the normal rules did not apply, but he was not yet so far gone as to abandon all his principles.

"you want my fucking head? then come and take it." his voice had swelled to near a roar. ronan had spoken of his sister, and that was enough to push ben to the edge, to see him raise his sword and advance, honour be damned. before he could make the first blow, there was hands on his shoulders, pulling him back, a second pair wrestling the sword from his grip. he knew not who had intervened, but he thrashed against their hold regardless.

[hugovance]

Hugo listened intently and then nodded, smiling in understanding. One fact of life when having a conversation with Hugo Vance was that the young Lord would always smile.Yes, the smile faltered on occasion but it was a strong smile all the same. And genuine. Hugo never smiled when he didn't feel it needed and he always felt it needed. As a serious man it was important for one to make sure they were approachable. And now as a man who served as sentinel, the smallfolk would see him often and they would need to see him as the one who worked for the Queen. A surly man would leave a bad taste in the mouths of their folk.

"That, my lord, is a brilliant idea. It would be good for the men to understand it is to be in a camp. We remember those days." Dreadful, he thought as the smile briefly faltered only to return. "That looks like stopping bandits, should they be ran through then it is unfortunate they chose so poorly and should they surrender then arrest them and I will send men to do the rest. I wish to see labor created. Put those lads to work. Hold off on taking hands if they can be put to work somewhere. Fields, roads, builders, and logging. There is much to do, my lord."

"Also, if they are lords or knights, no matter what house they come from, please try to detain them peacefully, we do not wish for the Queen to earn a reputation similar to the things one hears of the Vale."

"what?" a brief look of confusion crossed ben's face, before it hit him what hugo had taken from his words. a misunderstanding. ben shook his head, letting out a laugh. "my apologies, lord vance. i think i chose my words poorly." his sister was better at this than he. benjicot was good with his sword, but had little talents outside the domain of battle. "i did not mean blackwood soldiers. just," he raised a hand, making with it a vague gesture. "soldiers. be they small folk or landed. let the young lads experience the camaraderie of a camp - as you say, the pavilion spaces would suffice. take a couple of seasoned commanders any house you trust has to spare to keep them in line, and let their presence keep the bandits off the road."

what he did not say was that he was having a hard enough time managing his own lands. he had no interest in making a play for harrenhal, cursed as the lands were. whatever went on there was not his business, nor did he care to make it such. only a fool would seek to make their home in those melted towers. as for his initial suggestion, though, it was one he was far more eager to jump into, feet first. "this protection of the roads," he began. "what does that look like? it would be best to clear up expectations now, i think, as to how you would like my men to proceed." was he speaking strictly of patrols, or would they be allowed to stop and search suspicious carriages? did they have the right to detain, or was it kill on sight?

[hugovance]

"Oh no, it's fine, Mr. Wyl is sporting and spirited if anything." Hugo spoke with that same smile he always wore. Some would say he spent a lot of time in his political form and while that could arguably be true, he was also the kind of man who knew it was better to start with a smile. His mother always told him that people remember a man with a warm and welcoming smile.

Hugo spoke to the bartender and then put his attention back on her. "You look inspired if I say so myself. Personally, I find myself disappointed there's not a single Ugg boat in the crowd." Hugo laughed at his own joke as he finished his drink, glad for the new one coming his way.

"I'm quite well. I don't know if you've heard but I've been elected MP of Greenwich. Quite an accomplishment, well on my way I'd say. I would introduce you to Ellie Swann, she's somewhere. Perhaps speaking to her brother." He turned back to her. "Tell me how you are."

who: @daceystvrk where: 2000's party, costume notable deets: high school sweethearts that ended after graduation with the pair going down different paths. very good terms.

"Ryon Wyl took my bandanna which I think really tied the whole thing together."

Hugo spoke as he rested against the bar, the obvious choice was for him to choose something closer to how he actually dressed back in those days but that wasn't fun so he went for the other trend he saw sweep through suburbanites of Vermont, gang culture and he did always enjoy Malibu's Most Wanted, it was perfect. As soon as they played Wanksta he would solidify his victory if he ignored Ben Shady in the corner.

"How are you Dacey? It's been quite some time hasn't it?" The young man smiled and took a drink from his cup, paused and then finished it. "Bit watered down. You want one?" He offered as he turned to the bartender.

[hugovance]

who: @daceystvrk where: 2000's party, costume notable deets: high school sweethearts that ended after graduation with the pair going down different paths. very good terms.

"Ryon Wyl took my bandanna which I think really tied the whole thing together."

Hugo spoke as he rested against the bar, the obvious choice was for him to choose something closer to how he actually dressed back in those days but that wasn't fun so he went for the other trend he saw sweep through suburbanites of Vermont, gang culture and he did always enjoy Malibu's Most Wanted, it was perfect. As soon as they played Wanksta he would solidify his victory if he ignored Ben Shady in the corner.

"How are you Dacey? It's been quite some time hasn't it?" The young man smiled and took a drink from his cup, paused and then finished it. "Bit watered down. You want one?" He offered as he turned to the bartender.

[hugovance]

Hugo didn't have the ability to say yes or no but he would explain why it could be an issue before he presented the suggestion to the Queen and then he would also tell her why it could be a bad idea. The Lord of Wayfarer smiled easily, the young lord wasn't one who relied on charm but friendliness. He relied on people understanding his nature as one that came without threat. Hugo was only a threat when forced to draw his blade and even then, he did not know how he would match up with the boy who went to war and survived. Alas, this was not a fight for House Vance held no ill-will with their fellow Rivermen.

"That's a wonderful suggestion, my lord. It does present an issue, by allowing your men to stay in Harrenhal it sends a message that Harrenhal belongs to House Blackwood." And it did not. This would come up again, he imagined, and if he went to the hand the hand would say no in a way only Rivermen could. And Hugo was not in the mood for such...long conversations about blood feuds.

"Though, I will happily speak with the Queen and the Castellan, only to let the Castellan know what the Queen willed of course. Who was the Castellan after the...incident with Ser Simon. Rather unsettling and unfortunate incident that it was. "Though, I am sure there will be no problem with you taking up space where one would have seen pavilions in the time of tourneys. Outside castle itself. It's sure to deter brigands and the like. At least until I can hold court with the queen herself."

ben found his head nodding as he listened to hugo's proposition. it was a sound plan, one that was in the best interest of the riverlands as a whole. he respected it, and for that, he was happy to lend his sword. if nothing else, it would be a distraction from the monotony of ruling a keep, and the fact that, in peace time, he found himself unnecessary, unable to offer anything of value, even on the small council. he liked it.

"done," he said, as though it were as simple as that. perhaps it was. "let me know how many men you will need, and you can have as many as my house has to spare, and my own sword if you have need of it." he would need to speak with maggie and lucius about the latter statement. it was not until he spoke the words that ben realised that may be easier said than done, but when ben wanted to do something, it was difficult to deter him from his course of action.

"if i may make a suggestion, my lord?" he offered. "if harrenhal is to remain empty, it may be worthwhile to establish a camp there for riverland soldiers to use as a base. a training ground of sorts. that way, it may deter any undesireable influence taking root in the area, and the crown won't need to waste money on rebuilding it." he had cut his teeth on war camps, rather than in raventree hall's training grounds. a simulation of such an environment would surely be beneficial to boys looking to become men.