Chapter Text
Vex sputters into her tea, hastily trying to recompose herself into some semblance of dignity again as she puts her cup down, coughing and choking. Beside her, Vax is doing the same, and she can’t blame him.
When they were told two days earlier that Lord Syldor Vessar, diplomat of Syngorn, was headed to Whitestone with a small envoy, a marriage of political convenience was far from the last thing Vex’ahlia had expected would be their agenda for the day.
Then again, she doesn’t know what she was expecting. She had never really expected him to come to or turn up in Whitestone, didn’t expect him to bring Divana and Velora (although Vex is fully aware that they are here only to keep herself and her brother in a good mood). She hadn’t expected him to wait almost a full day and tour Whitestone first before the audience he had apparently asked for, and she hadn’t expected to be part of it, much less for Percy and Vax to be part of the meeting as well.
What had Vex been expecting then? Not this. Definitely not this.
She doesn’t need a mirror or for anyone to tell her that she’s blushing furiously; she can feel heat in her cheeks and in the tips of her ears. There is tea still somewhere up her nose, and she coughs a little against the ache it causes in the bridge of her nose. Vex dabs at her mouth with a napkin, but the damage is already done; she can tell by the way Syldor is very clearly losing a battle with the smug smirk threatening to take over the corner of his lips.
“Beg pardon?” Vex asks, half-rasping and half-squeaking, determinedly not looking even in the general direction of either de Rolo siblings.
Syldor starts with a small shrug. “Was I not clear enough?” he asks, smugness barely concealed in his tone, “I offer - no, suggest a marriage of convenience. Vex’ahlia of Syngorn, and Lord Percival of Whitestone. Both nobility, both of age, both eligible, and both to mutually benefit from the union, in more ways than one, I’m quite sure.”
“‘Mutually benefit,’” Vax echoes with a snort, “With all due respect, Lord Syldor, I’m not sure Syngorn has anything that Whitestone might need or want.”
Syldor’s eyebrows rise in near-perfect arches on his forehead. “Oh no?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepling in front of him, “We have information, we have refuge, we have numbers and weapons to add to the fight against your dragons, to name a few.”
Beside Vex, Vax scoffs. “We’ve been over this,” he tells Syldor, “The war against the Conclave is not exclusive to Whitestone alone.”
Another shrug from Syldor. “Hence the proposal,” he states, looking from one person to the other, “I’m...sensing some...reluctance.”
“ Just reluctance?” Vax huffs, but Cassandra talks over him.
“As a diplomat yourself, Lord Syldor,” she says evenly, “You’ll understand that there are more components to this than just what will be exchanged between the two factions through the pairing.”
“Such as?” Syldor asks. The coldness in his tone irritates Vex enough to snap her back to the moment almost aggressively.
“Consent, for one thing,” Cassandra replies simply, chin almost parallel to the surface of the table they’re sitting at, “I confess I’m not very familiar with the way things are done in Syngorn, but here in Whitestone, and certainly in my family, we have always reinforced that any and all negotiations that involve any sort of trade requires only the fullest consent from all parties concerned, or no exchange will be allowed to take place.”
When Syldor turns his gaze onto Vex, Vex only returns his shrug, fighting very hard to keep a smirk off her face.
“Are you implying a lack of consent in this particular circumstance, Lady Cassandra?” asks Syldor, but his eyes stay on Vex. Vex just raises an eyebrow at him.
“Not at all, Lord Syldor,” Cassandra answers, sipping from her tea, “That would be up to my brother and to Lady Vex’ahlia to decide. You see, here in Whitestone, and certainly in my family, we aren’t in the practice of using a person’s faculties as currency.”
Both Vax and Percy let out small chuckles, while Vex is quite sure the gasp that just escaped her could be heard around the room. Across her, the grin Percy is offering his sister is one of smug satisfaction and pride; he isn’t even bothering to hide it, and that makes Vex nearly laugh out loud.
Syldor hmphs , tugging at his robes as if to straighten them. “My daughter, consenting to marriage? Not likely, not from what I knew of her as a child. I fear it might be easier to have Vax’ildan consent to a union with you, Lady Cassandra.”
It’s Percy’s turn to choke on his tea, and it’s just loud enough so that Vax’s “Oh, fuck off, ” is barely heard. To Vex’s slight surprise, Cassandra remains composed, smiling almost sweetly at Syldor.
“I appreciate the underlying compliment, my lord,” says Cassandra, “But you and your son will forgive me if I say honestly that I have no interest at this point in time. No offense, of course, Vax.”
“Absolutely none taken,” Vax tells her with a tiny laugh.
Cassandra offers Vax a small bow of her head. “Besides, Lord Syldor,” Cassandra continues, “As far as I have seen, I was under the impression that Vax is already spoken for.”
Choking on tea seems to be the night’s trend, as it happens to Vax as well now, the second time it has happened to him tonight. Vex is almost certain at least half his tea has ended up on his clothes or up his nose instead of in his stomach.
“Is he now?” Syldor asks, turning a raised eyebrow at his son.
“Don’t even think about it,” Vax warns him, matching his expression, “Cassandra isn’t wrong - I am spoken for.”
Syldor regards Vax for a while. “And so, I had believed, was your sister,” he tells Vax, “Or did I read incorrectly when your party came to Syngorn for my aid?”
“Read...what incorrectly?” Cassandra asks, unable to keep the intrigued look off her face.
It is Syldor’s turn to smile at Cassandra. “Did you not know, my lady?” he asks her, “I would’ve thought you did. Lady Vex’ahlia was titled by your brother in my home, in my presence, and in the presence of my court.”
Cassandra turns inquisitive eyes at Percy, who gives her a significant look over his tea that Cassandra clearly understands even though no words are spoken. Vex sees her give Percy a slight nod.
“That title, as it is a Whitestone title, was formalized in this court, Lord Syldor,” Cassandra tells Vex’s father, sitting a little straighter in her chair, “I can assure you.”
“Oh, do not get me wrong, my lady,” Syldor laughs, and Vex clenches a fist and reminds herself not to punch him in the face, “I do not question the legitimacy of the title, but I do wonder at the reason for it happening. I may not know how it is in Whitestone, but in Syngorn, and certainly in my people, titles are not granted lightly.”
Vex wonders if Syldor too catches the fleeting flicker that happens in the eyelids of Cassandra’s left eye.
“Neither are they here in Whitestone,” Percy answers, piping up for the first time since Syldor made his proposal, “And I can assure you that my actions were warranted. The reasons, however, are my own.”
The nod that Syldor gives Percy slowly is weighted. “Noted, Lord Percival,” he answers, “I had just come to understand that one of those reasons was a plan to unite our cities by marrying my daughter.”
This, at last, is the final straw for Vex. How dare he. How dare he . It’s bad enough that Syldor walks into someone else’s home and stomps all over her in front of her friends, but for him to imply that Percy could be so... shallow and petty ...
Vex bolts straight up, her chair scratching loudly across the floor beneath. All eyes turn to her, but her eyes are trained only on her father’s. “You have some nerve,” she says, feeling her anger bubbling in the pits of her stomach, “You walk in here, dump some fucked-up proposal to barter me like cattle , then blame it on some trumped-up impression of my friends subscribing to your archaic beliefs? What are you? What the fuck are you?”
But Syldor’s face is a pristine, if loose, mask of plastered calm. He doesn’t answer Vex, but she wasn’t expecting him to. Nevertheless, the fist Vex has at her side is shaking slightly.
“Fuck your ‘ offer’ of exchange,” Vex hisses, “And fuck you . I will be no one’s goddamn leverage.”
She stomps off, and in the silence that follows her statement, she can hear her own footsteps clattering on the stone and echoing off the walls.