bakerstreet | engagement.

Entry tags:

[meme] shipping

engagement.

engagement

You’re getting married! Congratulations (or condolences)! Now, for the awkward stretch of time between announcement and event. What can go wrong?

What can go wrong?

Well, you could find a way to get out of the engagement if you didn’t want it in the first place, but what else could go wrong…besides learning a secret that ruins your perception of your future spouse, you fall for somebody else, you-

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[ info in journal, happy to discuss assumed cr. characters 20+ preferred. ]

[ Pref for arranged/unwilling marriages, at least at the offset. ]

（ the obligate mage who did shady things for power, half-brother to an empress (in a world where there's no stigma against half-siblings/etc). pls forgive the lack of journal info, he's new and i'm still working things out!

personality wise: aloof, a bit acerbic, kind of remote. Not Capable Of Love ^TM until he's suddenly in the thick of it, idk how that happens.

highly likely to be a political arranged marriage deal.

con...gratulations...? ）

Edited 2021-11-29 23:39 (UTC)

Were you already aware that the Empress hates you?

[ she asks it over the dinner that is thrown ostensibly to celebrate the happy new couple's impending nuptials. yennefer hides her grimace behind a cup of wine. ]

Is that meant to be a condemnation of my sister or of yourself?

（ astalya may be many things, but she's the one who brought him back from the darkness. even if she did hate him — an emotion in which she would be well-justified — he could never say the same of her now. ）

Oh, that's the beauty of it. It can be both at once.

[ it's laughable, actually. genuinely laughable. in fact, yen does give a little chuckle now, setting her glass down. her eyes stay on the partygoers. expression the kind of court-placid that comes with practice. ]

The only reason she would marry us is if she felt you were a threat to her power.

I assure you, she does not.

（ she'd asked him once, if he wanted the throne. all he wanted of it was to see it a ruin — he had no more respect for its power than for the father that sired them. yet he could recognize that the people needed to be lead, and he was no man for the job.

astalya, as always, rose magnificently to the occasion.

he gives his bride-to-be a mild look over his glass, rubbing one thumb against its silver lip. ）

But I do not expect you would have much in common with a common-born girl who saw the suffering of her people and fought to assure them a brighter future.

（ he was old enough to remember the fall of at'na vedi. all its splendor, all its glory. he remembers the arching halls with their vaulted ceilings, designed to carry sound throughout the halls so none could be said to whisper. he remembers the fine drapery, the jade carvings of naga, the precious fountains looked upon jealously — and rightfully so — by the common folk. the vermeil murals lit with the red gems of their motherland that flickered like eyes in the everglow of the saintlights.

astalya has left the empty hollows for wondering eyes to find, and has not repaired the damage done by crudely lifting the silver. she's thrown open the doors to the gardens and given water to any who ask for it. and if they had much treasury to speak of, he's certain she'd be throwing coin in the streets. but then, astalya was born the night after their titles had been stripped from them, and never knew finery. she still prefers muslin to silk, and he's had to chase her from the kitchens on more than one occasion, where he's found her gleefully floured from nose to knees, helping the baker with that old trade she knew best besides war. ）

[ yennefer's open, relaxed expression tightens up. something behind her eyes deadens. what indeed did she have in common with a description like that? caring for the suffering of others would have required anyone had shown her how by caring for hers, first. her common birth had ended in slavery.

it had taken everything in her power to crawl out of it on her own. she would not be reaching her hand back down to help anyone else up that ladder.

therefore, she should have known better than to make an effort at kindness. but seeing the empress tether her brother to a guarantee of sterility seemed a surefire way to cut off the line, to ensure that he could produce no heirs to challenge her children's inheritance. a threat indeed.

for all that he wanted to hear it. she pushes her chair back. ] I find myself bored of revelry. Enjoy your bright future.

（ he — stands, as is proper, and offers his arm, steading himself with a gesture that nearly looks effortless, gloved fingers pressed against the table. it wouldn't do to cause a scene — the shalla will be looking for any signs of weakness to exploit, clan headsmen all.

in a murmur — ）

I apologize. That was cruel of me.

（ then, louder — ）

Have you have an opportunity to enjoy our gardens?

[ the last thing she wants to do is spend more time in his company, apology or not. it's plain as day that she's without allies here. but it does not change the fact that anything the reflects poorly on him now reflects poorly on her, hinders her position as well.

she cannot afford to be petty in public, just now. ]

By all means. [ she tucks her arm into his, and only when they have turned away, towards the door, she says. ] I don't give a fuck about your gardens or your apologies.

And I don't particularly give a fuck about your forgiveness, all things being equal.

（ since they're using their street words. seyvane is not so far away as all that.

his cane, made of a black curl of smoke given form, keeps the limp from being too prominent, but by the time they make it out the large arching doorway some many times over again their combined height, he lets go of her and switches it to his left hand, leaning heavily on it. the little show of strength has its cost.

these halls discourage whispering, but a flick of his wrist mutes the sound of the revelry nearby and, presumably, their own words. ）

I'm willing to cooperate with you in the interest of a relatively painless partnership, but if you insist on giving insult to my sister I'll slit your throat myself and dump you on the steps of the Saintsgrave.

Thank you.

[ she rounds on him, chin jutting high. ]

For making apparent with such immediacy that you are too emotionally vested in the silly politics of this empire to be trusted to analyze the situation your dear sister has thrust you into. Rest assured, I will expect no further wisdom on your part.

[ she narrows her gaze past him, frowns, then turns to continue walking. others are making their way out of the dining hall now as well. this is no place for argument. not until they reach the gardens. ]

（ good kioya, what the fuck has he agreed to. he follows her apace, the oddly dampened tamp of his cane echoing strangely in the exclusion space he's made for them. she hasn't angered him — his rage is a beast carefully leashed beyond many, many more layers than the knife she hopes to twist in him.

but he is annoyed, if only because her words are a dark throne she expects to find unassailable — arguing further only proves her point that he speaks from emotion. will he speak of his return to life at the banks of the senga? what astalya sacrificed to raise him? the wish that could have made her as she had always dreamed to be?

damn the witch. ）

I assure you, dear eshyvai, （ his mother's tongue, a word meaning one promised ） that my emotions do not cloud my judgement where At'na Kai is concerned. Astalya has earned my esteem — another thing I do not expect you to comprehend, since clearly if you cannot take it you prefer to act as if such things are beneath you altogether.