Chapter Text
“Hi… Again. Gods I’m so bad at this. Like, I know I shouldn’t just come to you once a year when I want something but… Hi. It’s me again. Keyleth, I mean. But you probably know that.” Keyleth was knelt beside a tree in Zephrah - the same one her mother left through exactly fifteen years ago, and the same that her father went through ten years later. It held one of the few clear memories Keyleth had of her mother - of being held on her hip, reaching up for the trinkets tied to the tree, and giggling as her mother told her about it. Most of these trees are older than most people, and smarter than them as well. Always be kind to the trees, little sprout. And now, Keyleth sat beneath it, a worn pendant to the Wildmother in her hand that one of the elders had given to her when her mother first went missing. Her fingers brushed against the hard bark, some of it delicate enough to snap away in her fingers. Closing her eyes, she focused on the exposed bark, crafting small cherryblossom flowers in the crack as a dedication.
“Look I… don’t know what I’m doing. But I know my mother thought you listened to those in need so I have to try. I just… If you could bring them back to me, maybe… maybe I’ll repay you! I could be a cleric for you! Or… something. I don’t know if I’d be good at it, but I’d try!” She continued to ramble. The wind blew through the air, rattling the charms and offerings left on the tree, and Keyleth sighed– it was the closest she was going to get to a response, and she knew it. She wasn’t a religious woman, but it was the only thing she had that made her feel closer to her roots. “It was worth a try…” She muttered, shaking her head at herself. She wasn’t a child anymore, she had turned eighteen a few months ago, but the old habits died hard.
Heading back to her home, Keyleth frowned to see the door already open, the warm light of the fire coming from her kitchen. The house had been empty when she’d left earlier that afternoon on her errands, and she hadn’t been expecting anyone to come over. Stepping inside, she frowned, seeing Oltin, one of the Air Ashari elders, sitting at the dining table. She bristled slightly seeing that he was sitting in her father’s chair - the one she’d refused to sit in herself since he left.
“What are you doing in my house?” She asked, before she shook her head– she had been living here alone for five years, it wasn’t unheard of for members of the village to come by and help take care of her. “I… I mean… Kaitiake, Elder Oltin. What a… surprise to see you here.”
“Keyleth, take a seat.” He said tiredly, motioning to the seat opposite her. As strange as it felt to be offered a chair in her own home, she sat down, tense. Oltin stared into the fire, finally letting out a long breath. “There is no easy way to say this, child, but with your father and mother… indisposed, the council have decided that… Zephrah may not be the best place for you.”
“What?” Keyleth blinked at him, the pendant tightening in her left hand. “What do you mean?”
“First your mother left on her aramente, and never returned. Then your father sought her out, and also didn’t come back. There is a fear that your path amongst the Ashari may be… tainted.” He chose his words carefully, but there was a hollowness that he didn’t have to say for it to sting. Your parents failed us, and now we’re punishing you for it.
“I… Elder Oltin, please. I-I can go on my own aramente! I can stand in my mother’s place, please, if you’ll just let me prove myself–”
“It is not just our council that has concerns, Keyleth.” He said firmly, shrugging a shoulder. “Other Ashari tribes have found the instability unsettling. Our people remember the pain of losing Vilya, the future Voice of the Tempest. Then we lost your father, one of the brightest scholars we had. They look at you and it is a reminder of all that we have lost.”
“So that’s… just it? I’m supposed to just walk away from my home? I’ve never left the village before!”
“We are aware of that. That is why we have made arrangements for Lord Vessar of Syngorn to take you into his household.”
Keyleth said nothing for a moment, just staring at the man. She’d heard of Syngorn, of course, and most importantly, it’s dislike of those who weren’t of pure elven blood.
“Take me?” She asked, dumbstruck.
“You will be given room and board, and the protection of a noble house. It is a respectable position, one very much sought after.”
“What do you mean, ‘position’?” She blinked, still trying to process everything she was being told. She could hear the blood pumping in her ears, her adrenaline both pinning her to the chair and making her want to run.
“Household service.” He said, plainly. “Lady Vessar has requested a druid to help with the gardens, and Lord Vessar requires a personal maid for his eldest daughter, and the education of his youngest. You understand duty, and you are still at an age where you have much to learn. This is an ideal opportunity for you to learn how the world outside our tribes works.”
“So you sold me.” Keyleth’s voice was shaking - out of fear, or anger, or a mixture of both, she couldn’t be sure. She slammed her hand down on the table, the Wildmother pendant digging into her palm.
“This is an arrangement in your best interests.”
“Did he pay you? This… Lord Vessar?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. Oltin pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You make it sound so ugly, Keyleth. This was the best decision for all those involved.” He said, rapidly losing his patience. Keyleth’s shoulders slumped, and she looked up at him imploringly.
“Elder Oltin… please. Zephrah is my home. This is where mother and father will come back to. I wanted to serve my people, not… not some elf noble, please…”
“Keyleth, you are old enough that I will not sugarcoat this, or protect you from the facts.” Oltin stood up, his face more severe than she had ever seen it before. “Your mother has failed her aramente. She has been gone fifteen years, either abandoning her duty, or dying in the name of it. And similarly, your father would rather go on a wild goose chase and leave you in the guardianship of the village elders than stand and help to lead his people. Zephrah cannot afford the risk a third time.”
Keyleth stared at the floor, her whole body shaking.
“... When?” She whispered, hoarsely.
“We have arranged to transport you to Syngorn first thing in the morning. I will be accompanying you to ensure you don’t get lost.” He said softly, standing up and moving towards the door. Without looking back, he sighed. “Take the evening to say your goodbyes and pack your things, Keyleth. This gives you purpose, and belonging. You will thank us for this decision one day.”
And with that, he left. Despite the warmth of the fire, Keyleth could only feel the chill of his words. Staggering to her feet, she stared down at the wooden pendant, the markings of it now embedded in her hand.
“... You haven’t helped me before. I don’t expect you to start now.” She muttered, tossing it into the bottom of her pack before she moved through to her bedroom to start packing.
You will be pleased to know, my dear lady, that I continue to be the disappointment you always suspected I would be. I am beginning to think Syldor collects unsuitable matches just to fuck with me. Another was turned down today, so hopefully now you’ll see my rejection of your family’s proposal is nothing personal, and more that I didn’t want Kima to bite my ankles. I suspect I will be summoned shortly if my letter has arrived. If you never hear from me again, I trust you’ll ensure your ex-fiance has a beautiful funeral.
When Vax’ildan heard the knock and his father’s head servant ducked a nervous head around the door, he couldn’t even feign surprise, and laid the quill down, folding the parchment hurriedly. He knew exactly what this was about.
“Your um… Lord Vessar would like to speak to you in his study…” He muttered, and Vax rolled his eyes. How a human as nervous as this could’ve risen to the position of head servant he didn’t know - though realistically he knew it was because Syldor Vessar loved to take the vulnerable and desperate into his service - they were malleable, just like he thought his children were.
“Thank you, Edwin. I’ll be along shortly.” He muttered, going to his bedside table and pressing a silver coin into his hand. Edwin blinked, nervous.
“Sir, you don’t have to–”
“Call it damage pay for working for my father.” He said, biting back a smirk. Edwin didn’t return it, though - too hesitant to speak against his employer - and simply nodded, backing out of the room.
Vax waited a few minutes before he made his way to his father’s wing of the house, not wanting Edwin to get in trouble for not delivering a message in time. He’d seen the lashings on his back before, and he knew exactly where they came from. Not waiting to knock, he pushed the door open, smirking as he’d clearly interrupted a conversation between his father and Devana.
“Yes?” He asked, flopping into the chaise lounge in the office. His father’s office was as cold and stiff as the elf himself, full of stuffy textbooks and portraits of ancestors dating back centuries. Ten years of living in this house, and Vax still couldn’t have named half the faces staring down at him, much to his father’s irritation. Syldor pinched the bridge of his nose, glaring at his son.
“Could you explain to me exactly what in the gods names you thought you were doing, sending a child a dagger?”
“It was as blunt as a letter opener.” Vax said flatly, not even looking at him. “And what were you doing having me meet with a child.”
“It was a gift for your betrothal! One that would never have happened until she was of age!” Syldor snapped, throwing a parchment on the table. “And this letter alongside it?” Vax pulled himself up and leaned forward, resisting a chuckle at recognising his own handwriting.
Lord Lionet,
Thank you for the wine and the gift during you and your daughter’s recent visit. Beauregard is a delightful, spirited child of considerable promise. It is therefore with certainty that I inform you that no contract will ever be entered into between myself and her. I hope you will see fit to return your gift to Beau directly; I’m sure she will find much use for it. This will be the last time I will discuss the matter.
Warmest Regards,
Vax’ildan Vessar
“The Lionet family are furious!” Syldor snapped. “They have refused any trade with Syngorn, and this was to be our entry into the Dwendalian Empire!”
“She is eight years old and not a bargaining chip. Velora is eight, and Beauregard had more fun playing with her than she would’ve had speaking to me. And I assume you aren’t looking for creepy older men to start marrying your precious elven daughter.” Vax said, his teeth gritted, and all humour gone. “I never would’ve entertained the visit if I’d known.”
“Why the hells do you think I didn’t tell you!” Syldor hissed. “The marriage wouldn’t have taken place until she turned eighteen. I’d have hoped you’d have found some decency by then.”
“If by decency you mean another ten years to become you, you’ll be waiting an eternity.” Vax moved to stand up, but Syldor rounded the desk, standing in front of his son.
“This is the third suitor you have rejected, and I am fast losing my patience, Vax’ildan. I still don’t understand what was wrong with the Vysoren girl.”
“She was a stuck-up arcanist with her head up her own arse.” Vax muttered, rolling his eyes. In actual fact, Allura had made it clear during their meeting that she was courting a female halfling, but Vax wasn’t about to out her. He respected her, and their correspondence still continued, though not to the level that his father had clearly hoped for.
“And Cassandra de Rolo?”
“Her family had just been decimated! You wanted to palm me off as payment for Syngorn's help pushing back the Briarwoods!”
“It was a deal that had mutual benefits for both Syngorn and rebuilding the economy of Whitestone. Sylas Briarwood paid for his ambition, and his widow, at least, appears clever enough to learn from it. Your sister understood that when she accepted Percy’s hand when you failed to deliver.” Vax flinched slightly at the implication, and narrowed his eyes
“My sister understands she can’t say no to you.” He snapped, finally standing up to get in Syldor’s face, desperate to punch the smug look off his face. His hand twitched at his side, relaxing only as Devana cleared her throat.
“Perhaps a compromise is in order.” She said quietly, looking between the two. “A ball. Your father will invite those he deems suitable for you, and by the end of the evening, you will choose one you find agreeable. Of course we will invite the de Rolo heirs, it’ll be a chance for Vex’ahlia and Percival to spend time together before their marriage is arranged.” She smiled softly, looking between both. Vax bit into his tongue, tense. He hated this. He didn’t want an arranged marriage– he didn’t want anything that Syldor decided was good for him, but he knew slighting Devana’s suggestion wasn’t an option either. At least with her’s there was still some illusion of choice.
“I will… attempt to choose one.” He said stiffly, his eyes still on Syldor. “That is the closest to a promise I will make.”
Syldor took a step back, motioning to the door. “In that case, you are dismissed. Devana and I will make the arrangements. Now go– I have a new servant girl arriving to be evaluated.” He paused for a second, locking eyes with Vax, pointedly. “A young half-elf.”
Vax felt a cold wash over him, hearing the insult beneath the words. His father didn’t need to say it out loud. You would be where she is if it weren’t for me. Be grateful.
He didn’t answer him, just walked silently out of the room, slamming it on his way out. He glanced over as he saw Edwin jump at the loud noise. He opened his mouth to offer an apology, and instead, all that came out was a sigh. What was the point? Edwin would still return to his duties, Syldor would still be in control of both of their lives– they were as trapped as each other. Instead, he simply walked away.