It was not often that Essek was called home to his mother's house. The last several times had always proceeded grave news - the death of his father, the loss of a beacon, the outbreak of war.
Now an armistice was looming on the horizon, and Essek was left brooding over what bad news might have followed him home from the peace talks. It wasn't as if he didn't have plenty of it to potentially expect.
To satisfy his curiosity, more than anything, he answered the summons and arrived early for supper on the appointed night. His mother and her attendants were there, his brother was not, and worst of all there was a stranger sitting instead in his brother's seat.
He brutally refused to let any sign of surprise show on his face at the sight. As the newcomer's eyes flicked to his face and then gave him a once over, Essek was only mostly certain that he succeeded.
And when the shock passed, his mind raced to take in other details - an older drow. Not entirely a stranger - Issa of Den Daev'yana was a common enough sight in the castle. An older soul in more ways than one, on his sixth lifetime, beloved for his poetry and blood brother to Daev'yana's Umavi. No apparent ambition of his own, but skilled at making connections with powerful people.
(Skilled enough that, when he'd once tried to...press himself on Essek, thirty years past when Essek had still been but an apprentice to the last Shadowhand, one of Essek's first lessons about surviving in the Bright Queen's court had been that reporting the attack or making a fuss about it would be a waste of time. He'd simply tamped any lingering feelings about the attempted violation deep down into the back of his mind, been grateful that it had ultimately only been an attempt, and that had been that.
Or at least, he'd thought that had been that. Suddenly being confronted with those eyes again, Essek had an ugly moment of feeling as if he were naught but ninety years old again, young and out of his depth, a cold shiver down his spine and a fist around his heart.)
Shock and bad memories made him clumsy. It seemed as if Essek blinked, and he was sitting in his usual seat, conversation going on around him. He must have made the usual introductions and said the correct niceties on auto-pilot. It wouldn't have been the first time.
"--return from Bazzoxan soon," his mother was saying - the topic of conversation must have turned to Verin, as it so often did.
His finger were starting to twinge in warning. Essek made himself stop gripping his knife as if it were personally responsible for all his troubles. He ducked his head and tried to actually focus on what he was eating.
"Praise be to the Luxon that the conflict left him unharmed," Issa answered easily. "Perhaps we will even be fortunate enough to have him return for the ceremony."
"Ceremony?" Essek asked, before he could stop himself. The sight of both their gazes turning towards him made him feel cold, made him want to wilt - he knew he should have kept his mouth shut, should have made them involve him if whatever was going on was so important, but the feeling of being talked over like he was nothing but a child who needed time to get over a fit rankled in the way little else did.
(As both their gazes turned towards him, he felt a flash of childish wishing that Verin might be here with them already. Gods only knew that he and his brother often hadn't seen eye to eye, but, but...Essek was truly fond of him all the same. He knew in the way he let himself be certain of little else that at least Verin would be on his side against whatever storm was about to break.)
His mother cleared her throat delicately - a sign that he had been trained since childhood to understand meant "control yourself". A warning. He hated her for giving it now of all times, but made himself heed it for his own sake. He knew by the slow smirk spreading over Issa's face that the older drow wanted to see him crack. Essek would refuse him the satisfaction.
"That is why I asked you here tonight, Essek," she said. "In these changing times - certain decisions must be made. Though the conflict is coming to an end, that must serve as nothing more than an opportunity to us to strengthen ourselves and our dens in preparation for the next stab of treachery from the Empire. The head of Den Daev'yana approached me with a plan to perhaps allow just that. In these changing times, Essek, we must be prepared to change with them - to strengthen our house, in preparation for the next storm."
"We must stand together," Issa added and gods, just the sound of his voice made Essek want to shudder with revulsion. He held himself back with increasing difficulty and simply leveled a waiting glare at the stranger instead. Issa was entirely unmoved - he simply sat there, chin in one hand, trailing the fingers of another idly tracing the rim of his wineglass, smiling at Essek like a cat staring down a wounded canary. "And what better way to unite our disparate dens than with a wedding? Two families becoming one, to withstand the tests of time. Essek--" And this time, Essek was entirely unable to hold back a shudder of revulsion as Issa reached across the table and trailed his fingers lightly over the back of Essek's tightly clenched hand. "--I mean for you to be my bride."
FILL: The Most Delicate of Chains (Part 1/?)
Now an armistice was looming on the horizon, and Essek was left brooding over what bad news might have followed him home from the peace talks. It wasn't as if he didn't have plenty of it to potentially expect.
To satisfy his curiosity, more than anything, he answered the summons and arrived early for supper on the appointed night. His mother and her attendants were there, his brother was not, and worst of all there was a stranger sitting instead in his brother's seat.
He brutally refused to let any sign of surprise show on his face at the sight. As the newcomer's eyes flicked to his face and then gave him a once over, Essek was only mostly certain that he succeeded.
And when the shock passed, his mind raced to take in other details - an older drow. Not entirely a stranger - Issa of Den Daev'yana was a common enough sight in the castle. An older soul in more ways than one, on his sixth lifetime, beloved for his poetry and blood brother to Daev'yana's Umavi. No apparent ambition of his own, but skilled at making connections with powerful people.
(Skilled enough that, when he'd once tried to...press himself on Essek, thirty years past when Essek had still been but an apprentice to the last Shadowhand, one of Essek's first lessons about surviving in the Bright Queen's court had been that reporting the attack or making a fuss about it would be a waste of time. He'd simply tamped any lingering feelings about the attempted violation deep down into the back of his mind, been grateful that it had ultimately only been an attempt, and that had been that.
Or at least, he'd thought that had been that. Suddenly being confronted with those eyes again, Essek had an ugly moment of feeling as if he were naught but ninety years old again, young and out of his depth, a cold shiver down his spine and a fist around his heart.)
Shock and bad memories made him clumsy. It seemed as if Essek blinked, and he was sitting in his usual seat, conversation going on around him. He must have made the usual introductions and said the correct niceties on auto-pilot. It wouldn't have been the first time.
"--return from Bazzoxan soon," his mother was saying - the topic of conversation must have turned to Verin, as it so often did.
His finger were starting to twinge in warning. Essek made himself stop gripping his knife as if it were personally responsible for all his troubles. He ducked his head and tried to actually focus on what he was eating.
"Praise be to the Luxon that the conflict left him unharmed," Issa answered easily. "Perhaps we will even be fortunate enough to have him return for the ceremony."
"Ceremony?" Essek asked, before he could stop himself. The sight of both their gazes turning towards him made him feel cold, made him want to wilt - he knew he should have kept his mouth shut, should have made them involve him if whatever was going on was so important, but the feeling of being talked over like he was nothing but a child who needed time to get over a fit rankled in the way little else did.
(As both their gazes turned towards him, he felt a flash of childish wishing that Verin might be here with them already. Gods only knew that he and his brother often hadn't seen eye to eye, but, but...Essek was truly fond of him all the same. He knew in the way he let himself be certain of little else that at least Verin would be on his side against whatever storm was about to break.)
His mother cleared her throat delicately - a sign that he had been trained since childhood to understand meant "control yourself". A warning. He hated her for giving it now of all times, but made himself heed it for his own sake. He knew by the slow smirk spreading over Issa's face that the older drow wanted to see him crack. Essek would refuse him the satisfaction.
"That is why I asked you here tonight, Essek," she said. "In these changing times - certain decisions must be made. Though the conflict is coming to an end, that must serve as nothing more than an opportunity to us to strengthen ourselves and our dens in preparation for the next stab of treachery from the Empire. The head of Den Daev'yana approached me with a plan to perhaps allow just that. In these changing times, Essek, we must be prepared to change with them - to strengthen our house, in preparation for the next storm."
"We must stand together," Issa added and gods, just the sound of his voice made Essek want to shudder with revulsion. He held himself back with increasing difficulty and simply leveled a waiting glare at the stranger instead. Issa was entirely unmoved - he simply sat there, chin in one hand, trailing the fingers of another idly tracing the rim of his wineglass, smiling at Essek like a cat staring down a wounded canary. "And what better way to unite our disparate dens than with a wedding? Two families becoming one, to withstand the tests of time. Essek--" And this time, Essek was entirely unable to hold back a shudder of revulsion as Issa reached across the table and trailed his fingers lightly over the back of Essek's tightly clenched hand. "--I mean for you to be my bride."