Chapter Text
VISENYA’S POV
The fervent click of heels against the solid floor was all Visenya could focus on as she marched toward her destination. This was the fifth meeting she would be having in an attempt to find an advisor. The first was too old. He wreaked of dusty cologne and stood too stiff. The second was more focused on flirtations than the seriousness of the position. Visenya’s jaw tightened at the recollection. The third was too young and giggled at everything. Her pace quickened as nervousness bubbled in her chest. And the fourth, in all honesty, nothing was wrong with Sabre Dion. Visenya and Sabre got on well. He wasn’t too old or too young. He was respectful and kind. Visenya arrived at her office door, which was adjacent to her bedroom, wringing her hands in a pathetic attempt to calm her nerves. Sabre was a good pick, but Iaeson said no.
She knew that it should be her choice, that her lover’s opinion shouldn’t weigh so heavily on her own. Her mother would have scolded her deeply for being so weak behind a man, especially of his status. But her mother was dead and she was weak. Iaeson had infiltrated the deepest reaches of her mind, buried himself between her ribs, and effectively taken over. She loved him, despite the warning signs.
So, here she was; standing outside her own office, silently praying to any god that would listen for this meeting to go well. Visenya didn’t want to be stuck with an advisor the Echelon picked, who would inevitably just be another set of eyes watching her every move. She steeled herself, rolling her shoulders back and tilting her chin upwards in feigned confidence. With a twist of the knob, her gaze fell upon a rather tall blond man.
VESTIR’S POV
There she was; the woman he’d heard so much about. She was smaller than he’d imagined; her features were softer. He shot up from his seat, silently cursing himself for sitting in the first place. He watched her smooth her dress and mirrored her movements, adjusting his hair and coat. They stood in silence for a moment, sizing each other up. Regardless of their size difference, he still felt tiny in her presence. Vestir bowed respectfully, and on her command, his eyes rose to meet hers. “By the seven, don’t let me mess this up.” He thought.
The faesa moved to sit behind her desk, a look of icy seriousness wrapped around her features. She spoke softly, in a steady self-assured pace. “So, it’s just Vestir?” Her eyebrow quirked, and he resisted the urge to shrink into himself. A hard gulp. “Yes, it’s just Vestir.” Visenya sat back in her seat, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of her jaw in thought. “Hm, that’s interesting. You have no claim to any house?” Memories of a past life flashed across his mind’s eye and for a moment, he almost dropped his mask. No, it was no mask. Estir Drevarin died in that house, he bled out on the floor of his bedroom. Estir Drevarin was a ghost that would always haunt him, but that was not him.
“No, but I did spend some time training to be an advisor with House Squala.” Visenya seems satiated with his response. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. She makes another noise of approval, “Mhm, I see.” The brunette’s fingers trace her jawline again. He glances down at the ground, his hands behind his back. “Your skill set and references are impeccable, especially considering your price point.” He opens his mouth to retort, and she cuts him off. “You’re underselling yourself.” Her eyes narrow, and he wants to run. He’s been figured out. He’ll be killed for this or worse, shipped back to House Drevarin.
VISENYA’S POV
What a curious case she has on her hands. Visenya knew with everything in her that hiring this man would not be a smart idea. She couldn’t resist the temptation of figuring him out. Maybe this would end badly, maybe it wouldn’t. But Visenya was determined to flip the coin. Vestir looked like he was going to burst under her gaze. “I have a party to attend tonight, will you be able to accompany me?” Her voice was like honey, sickly sweet as it buzzed in his ears. “Of course, Faesa.” He was eager. Too eager. She resisted the urge to grin and bit her lip in response. A curt nod of approval. “I will see you at seven, then.” Visenya turns and resumes her seat, filing through some paperwork. Vestir takes the hint and bows again, turning on his heels and leaving the room. “A lovely little mystery,” She thought with a smirk, “My lovely little mystery.”