Vivazzi Plaza was no place for a gently bred lady to be past dark, but desperate times called for extraordinary measures. Isabeau, in the form of a greater racket-tailed drongo, watched the hulking building with the cracked bell and struggled to keep her human-thoughts in order. The drongo’s mind was not made for reconnaissance; it wanted only to flee to the treetops and eat bugs.
Alas, there was no way she could walk through the Blind Eye’s doors. But flying in through a window? That was eminently doable. Helpfully, one of the windows on the top floor was always open. She flew to the window sill and scanned the room with beady dark eyes. Master Frey and his pet were out. The room within was calm and dark, though the scent of griffon made her drongo body want to flee. Isabeau hopped down and returned to her human-shape, shivering as feathers gave way to skirts and skin.
There was much that was interesting to look at here but Isabeau could not afford to be caught. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair and faced the door she knew would lead out to the hall, listening for movement. Satisfied that she would not bowl into a servant or – worse – the owner of these rooms, Isabeau crept out and shut the door quietly behind her.
At this time of night, the Blind Eye was packed. She could feel the vibration of music and voices through the thin soles of her slippers. The office she was looking for was close – if Lord Pavus had been the type to leave his windows open in winter, she might have saved a little bit of trouble.
Bent over, Isabeau negotiated with the lock. It was not spelled; the iron itself was simply resistant to meddling by its very nature. It was easier by far to eject the fittings from the wood entirely – Isabeau vented a tiny sigh of effort as the knob and mechanism came away in her hand. She carried these inside, letting the door float closed, though of course it would not latch again. That was alright. In the end, she wanted to be noticed. Eventually. By one person.
She took in the dark office, frowning very slightly to herself. Unlike his partner, Pavus did not seem to spend much time actually residing here. The furnishings were fine enough, but the books on the shelves had the uncracked spines and crisp edges of the never-read. The brass stove was polished to a shine with no ashes in the grate. Abandoning the doorknob on the desk, Isabeau set about building a small fire within.
Then, she sat down in Lord Pavus’ chair at the desk – and waited. Surely he’d come upstairs at least once before morning?
Hells, the man could drink. It had been ages ago when Enzo signaled to Simone to lighten his drinks while keeping the man's strong. Would he need to signal to cut the alcohol from his drinks altogether? The man, a Lord of some fashion from the Free Marches, had taken pains to liken himself to Enzo throughout his visit to Minrathous. Like Enzo, he was above the base need for a profession, instead enjoying more refined pursuits such as hunting. He also loved horses, something that he indeed had in common with Enzo. The man, unfortunately, was not as fond of dracolisks, but that was a fault of most foreigners and Enzo did his best not to hold it against him.
But while they might not be directly involved in trade, both Enzo and this Free Marcher Lord had much interest in it. And celebrating the union of one of his cousins from a lesser house to one of the man's... nephews?... was the acceptable way to close the negotiations around the resumption of a previously very profitable trade route. So Enzo smiled, matched toast for toast, and waited for the man to run out of steam.
That happened some time after ten. Early, by the Blind Eye's standards, but they'd started at the late morning engagement breakfast. After entrusting the man to Simone, who hailed him a carriage back to the residence the man had been renting, Enzo stumbled up a back set of stairs. He was not entirely drunk, but he was too far along to brave the Blind Eye at its peak hours, yet not so far along to want to go to bed. He'd stay for a while. Quinn was out and it was always good to have some form of management on site after all.
Enzo whistled as he made his way from the stairs down the hall to his office, content at how the Free Marcher's visit had gone. Foreigners did not know, or even really care about how the Pavus name had lost face in the years since the veil fell and the barrier was raised. All they wanted was the return of their trade routes. And Enzo was happy enough to provide. One thing the other Altus houses couldn't take was Pavus' wealth. So while he did his best to claw them back out of the social hole his cousin had condemned them to, he did his damnedest to ensure the gold continued to flow.
His whistle stalled, sinking in pitch from high to low when he eyes registered the missing knob on the ajar office door... and the flicker of firelight beyond through the gap. That certainly helped to sober him some. Brow furrowing, Enzo took a deep breath as he pushed magic through his body. Eyes dilated to take in every detail the dim light could provide. His ears rang for a moment as his magic pushed them to greater accuracy. Every muscle flooded with blood and energy, ready to act. Taking another step, he stood to the side of the door, allowing only a narrow swath of the room to be visible as he slowly opened the door. Moving with it, he was able to take in the room as the door opened until the apparent culprit came into view.
Enzo blinked at the woman seated at his desk, cozy in the firelight from the stove. Inwardly, his mind raced in search of a name, or a house, but nothing came to him. Puzzled, he glanced at the doorknob on his desk, then back up at the woman. She wore the clothing one would expect of a lady from at least a minor house. Her lack of curtsies and "Sorry m'lord"s also lent to the theory that she was in some way noble. And, he supposed, he had no real reason to be rude to a lady who had perhaps come looking for him.
"Are you in need of some assistance, miss...?" he allowed the question to trail off, just as he allowed the magic he'd stirred up to settle slowly in his system.
There were few things worse than waiting. Especially at a time like this, with the dull roar of merriment downstairs tempting her to go and see. She’d spied on the Blind Eye for many nights – but what if it was different this time? What seemed like a bunch of frightening noise to a bird might become quite intoxicating to a woman’s senses. There had to be a reason people came here. And then there was the desk itself. Tidy on initial inspection, but who could guess what secrets were filed away out of sight? Isabeau kept her gloved hands to herself, steepled in her lap.
She was almost dozing by the time Lord Pavus made his appearance, lifting her head and blinking at him. The air was briefly charged with magic, enough to raise goosebumps – but he appeared to change his mind about attacking her. Isabeau merely cocked her head, wondering at that. Weighing judgement, unable to arrive at a satisfying answer. He was simply too much a stranger.
Was he the sort of man to dismiss a threat merely because it was female? In any case, she was glad it wouldn’t be a fight. That would be terribly inauspicious for what she had in mind, going forward.
“Perhaps.” Isabeau stood and rounded the desk, so that she could study Lord Pavus in greater detail. In fact, she walked a slow orbit around him, as though judging a new dracolisk for her stable. He seemed as finely put together as the gossip mongers would imply, though she remained skeptical. There had to be a reason he remained unmarried – and she doubted the stain on House Pavus’ name was the whole of the story. Finally, coming to stand in front of him, Isabeau offered her hand. Whether to shake or to kiss, she gave no indication.
He did not recognize her, which was slightly vexing. Izzy wasn’t used to introducing herself, except to excitable fourteen year old students.
“Isabeau of House Icarius. I think we could be useful to each other, Lord Pavus.”
Though the lady was quite obviously younger than he, Enzo felt an immediate sense of being judged as she regarded him. His brow furrowed as she stood, that sense of judgement only increasing as she approached. He caught himself standing a bit straighter as she circled him, and had to stop himself from smoothing the fabric of his waistcoat. What in the hells was this woman up to?
After making her circle, she offered her hand a moment before her name. Enzo was mid way to taking her hand out of sheer habit when recognition finally hit. Icarius? His pause was barely perceptible before he clasped her fingers gently and dipped his head over her hand. "Miss Icarius." he said, then released her hand as he furthered the bow just slightly more before rising. "I am your humble servant. Please," he gestured toward the couch which was also positioned near the brass stove, then glanced back at his desk and the doorknob, "...continue to make yourself comfortable. May I offer you a drink?"
Bewildered, he turned to the sideboard in the corner of the office to pour himself a drink, if not them both. He used the time to sort through his thoughts. It was no wonder he didn't recognize her. Enzo knew her name, but not her face. The girl, for that was what his mind conjured of her, had disappeared into education. Iovita was more Enzo's contemporary, but they had no love for Enzo or House Pavus. Indeed, they'd all but shunned him. And the younger one, Enzo could not think of his name, was politely not talked about these days. No, Enzo had very little crossover with House Icarius for some time. So what, then, could this Isabeau be doing here?
"I have whiskey and brandy here." And without an escort? "But I can send for something else, if you would prefer." And how did she get up here? He turned around, offering a smile. He'd need to have a word with Aquila later.
It was a very pretty bow, though at such close proximity she caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. It shouldn’t have surprised her – and yet it did. Isabeau allowed herself to be directed to the couch and took a seat upon it, biding her time by carefully rearranging the fall of her skirts. She did not wish to ensnare a drunk man, one who might not even remember this conversation come morning.
“Tea would be appreciated, if you can arrange it.” Was that his fatal flaw, then? Alcoholism? No, most likely not. It was hardly remarkable for a man to indulge in spirits, even to excess. And Lord Pavus did not seem particularly impaired by it at the moment.
Though, that could change if he went through that brandy quickly enough. She knew a poison-neutralizing spell that could sober one up in a pinch. Most unpleasant for the subject, however. A short hangover that came about all at once, like a hammer blow to the stomach and sinuses.
Isabeau watched as he made arrangements, her courage beginning to falter as she came to the heart of the matter. There was no delicate way to put it – and though she had practiced to her reflection many times … It was quite different, being the focus of a stranger’s attention. She drew in a deep breath and sat up straight.
“I find, rather suddenly, that I must secure a husband. Before my family cuts me off, as they have already done to my brother.” There. That was the worst part, out in the open. It would not reflect well on the House were the words to make it beyond this room – and she certainly could not trust Lord Pavus yet. But if the disinheriting of Ignacious-the-Fourth had not ruined them, then that of a spinster daughter would not either.
“By my observations, Lord Pavus, you are my best option.” The Tilani heir was married and breeding. Members of Houses Calidus and Obsidian were being murdered or disappearing without a trace. The Umbra patriarch was engaged. Verax and Serpentis, they were too new and too weak respectively.
That left one mysteriously eligible bachelor in the field, unless she wanted to settle. Just because House Pavus had fallen out of favor did not mean it would stay that way forever. Less likely with her genius on their side, no?
After his question, he turned leaning slightly against the side board with his tumbler in hand. The finger or so of whiskey that he'd poured swished idly as his hand moved in a slow, rhythmic circle. At her request, he nodded and his free hand motioned at the bell pull on the wall behind his desk. He held up his hand in a gesture bidding the lady's patience as he walked to the door. A moment later, a servant was moving down the hall.
"Tea service, please." he said before the servant was close enough to see into the office. "You may leave it here, when you bring it." He gestured beside the door and the servant bowed and hurried back down the stairs. If his new acquaintance had gone through the trouble to sneak in, it would feel a bit rude to ruin all the effort by letting her be seen.
"You'll pardon the wait, I hope." he said, turning back around. Then, noticing the dimness of the office, waved his hand again and flames darted from the stove to the lamp on his desk and another on the sideboard. "There." he said, a satisfied smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. Closing the office door he moved to his desk, leaning against the front edge of it and crossing his free hand across his torso. "How might I be of service?"
To her credit, the lady kept a rather straight face. There were, of course, the usual cues of one not quite comfortable in their environment -eyes that darted a bit more rapidly, settling and resettling the fabric of one's clothing, a slight increase in breathing- but she schooled these well enough that this might have just been her first time in this room... which it was. If she felt truly nervous, Enzo would have to dip into magic to read it.
A slight sigh of a laugh escaped him at her first statement, then his mouth closed and his eyebrows raised at the one about her brother. That was something that would send the gossip scene into a tizzy. But he could hardly take the time to ponder on what it revealed because the young lady sitting in his office needed help... finding a husband? Was her mother unwell? Had she no aunts? Surely her father would-
“By my observations, Lord Pavus, you are my best option.”
He did laugh then. The single note of it escaped him before he could stop it. He snapped his jaw shut after, but it hung in the air between them. He smiled, his expression twisting it to show he had not meant to laugh at her. It was just... well, it was ridiculous, was it not? Old Ignacious would never agree. He'd not cared for House Pavus before Dorian, let alone now. He had a mind to tell her just as much when...
“And I know I am yours.”
His eyes focused on hers as his back straightened slightly, the smile melting from his lips. Now he was tempted to reach into her mind. What was this? A joke? His brows furrowed as he watched her. Very little changed in her demeanor after delivering her... was it a proposal, then? But he could not be sure that lack of change meant sincerity. And if she were sincere, why the hells would she approach him in this manner?
Because she is correct. And you are beneath her.
A knock on the door was enough to pull Enzo's mind away from a row with Envy, for the time being. He glanced to the door, then back at Isabeau. Taking a short sip from his tumbler, Enzo set it down. Breaking his eye contact with the woman, he turned and walked to the door. Retrieving the tray from the hall, he brought it in and set it on the low table in front of the couch. He then quickly lifted the pot and tipped the spout over one of the cups to fill it. His eyes glanced up to hers again, brows rising in silent question as to her preferences for milk, sugar, or honey.
"Forgive me, Miss Icarius, for I am no expert on the matter but... this seems a rather odd way to go about procuring a husband." he said, finishing the tea to her liking and handing it to her. He stood, crossing back to lean against his desk once more. He was a bit out of his element here, unused to such direct bluntness from a lady. "I think we both know that your family would not approve of this course of action." He lifted his tumbler but held it to his chest rather than drink from it. "Or of me, since we're being brutally honest." he chuckled.
There were, of course, few choices amongst the Altus houses. But she was not the Icarius heir. Had her family considered from the lower houses? Had she refused such prospects? With the younger son cut off, there was more pressure to keep her match to someone of status he supposed. But Obsidian or Calidus had children to spare. And then... why was she not already married? Was she at her last resort not to bend to the will of her parents?
Isabeau did not appreciate being laughed at. Her brows pinched together, once, before smoothing away. She had known she ought to expect ridicule and worse – but this proved to be one of those areas where being right stung. Somehow disappointed in the stranger in front of her, Izzy accepted her tea plain, leaning back to hold the cup between her hands. The porcelain would have been hot enough to burn were she not wearing gloves. At least the tea would be properly steeped, not sitting in a cold pot until it got bitter.
It was clear Lord Pavus was not taking her proposition seriously. And yet, he hadn’t exactly said no; get out of my office, either. Did he think she was mad – or else playing a cruel trick on him?
“You think you know my father better than I do. How amusing.” Her tone of voice said it was not amusing at all, actually. Isabeau wrinkled her nose and pushed back one sleeve to test the rim of the cup with her bare wrist. Still a little too hot. It would be ready to drink when she could bear the touch.
“I am thirty years old. I have a career. I do not have the will or the time to be shopped around town to someone else’s satisfaction.” One season of that at twenty had been more than enough, thank you. The thought of enduring it again – by now too old and far too educated – was a peculiar kind of horror. The men would be the same as they had always been. The girls might as well be a different species altogether. One, alas, that she did not relate to in the least.
“Do you believe a woman should not advocate for herself, Lord Pavus?” Her chin raised in challenge, a shadow of doubt in her eyes for the first time. She was here specifically to avoid chaining herself to the kind of man that would wish to control and minimize every aspect of her life. Had she misjudged him all along?
“Do not fret. I do not plan to give my family a chance to foul this up.” Isabeau sipped her tea, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. If all the Blind Eye’s offerings were of the same quality, she could begin to understand the establishment’s popularity.
“We will arrange a suitable introduction – this meeting will not have happened. You will court me for some few weeks this spring.” Pavus already had a reputation, this would not be difficult. A wallflower taken in by a libertine’s charms? The gossip sheets would write themselves.
“And then, at the biggest ball of the season, we will be caught together en déshabillé. You will do the right thing and ask Magister Icarius for my hand. He will not refuse. Though, I admit, dear Iovita may not see it the same way.”
It was becoming increasingly obvious that he was doing the lady a disservice -if not full insult- in his dismissal of her proposal. The slight shift in her expressions, the tone and emphasis she put into her words. She'd not come to this decision lightly or without careful thought, but a too large portion of him was struggling to accept this entire scenario as real. It was too strange. Too abrupt. Yet here was the young lady, sitting on his couch, drinking his -so to speak- tea, and proposing marriage. There was a moment or two where he thought to speak, but she soldiered through. So he kept his mouth closed and listened.
In all, it was a simple, but effective plan -entirely believable and all too common. Enzo chewed on his lip as he listened, eyes cast down idly on his shoesas he nodded along. When she'd finished, he allowed the silence to settle for a few moments before looking up at her. He waited another beat, then turned his head slightly to the side as if to better position his ear. His brows arched, expectantly. Another beat.
"And then...?" he asked. "We'll be wed. Alright. Lovely." he added, gesturing with his tumbler hand as is to wave through the expected steps. "You'll provide me an heir?" Enzo pushed himself from the desk, circling around the low table to the empty side of the couch. He sat, leaning into the arm rest and draping his free hand across the back of the couch.
"Several would be better, truth be told." he amended, pointing toward her with the forefinger of his hand holding the glass. "The line must be strengthened. Can you bear children, Miss Icarius?" Leaning forward, he set the tumbler on the table and turned slightly toward her. "I do not mean to be indelicate but, as you said, we are each other's best option. A wife would do me a lot of good, I won't argue that. And a binding connection to your family would indeed be quite valuable. But a marriage would only serve me if it gives me an heir.
"You have thought your plan through, so I will not insult you by assuming you have not thought this part through as well. But, since I was not privy to the planning stage of our union, I will ask that you make it clear to me now." Enzo leveled his eyes on her, dropping all pretense and humor from his expression. If she wanted him to take this seriously, then he would do so. "Will you bear my child?" It was a simple question, but not easy. All the magic and science in all of Thedas could not make surviving childbirth a foregone conclusion. "This... marriage of convenience would be much less convenient for you than me. I won't take what you are not willing to give. But if you are not willing, then you are not my best option."
To be perfectly honest, Isabeau had never given motherhood much thought one way or the other. For much of her life, it seemed a foregone conclusion. The end and purpose of her sex and social class. And then, when she had not married, simply a fuzzy and indefinite place upon the canvas of her life. The theoretical consequence of becoming too friendly with men, yes – but easily solved by a witch of her skills.
At least she had not learned to fear it.
And there had been no friendly men, besides. She watched Enzo settle on the other end of the couch, adjusting her posture to angle towards him. Her mouth opened to answer, then closed on a smile. She did not laugh, but only just. As far as she knew, Lord Pavus had no bastards despite his reputation for smiling at anything female. He was either very careful or—
“I suppose I will take it on faith that your primary sexual characteristics are in working order.” Izzy glanced at his hand, stretching almost into her space. Paired with a promise that he would not rape her, the situation was turning strange beyond even her wildest expectations.
“I am in good health and my courses are regular. I have no reason to believe that I could not. Additionally, the physical demands of my work are light, so it should not interfere until my time of confinement.” Though, several worried her. In this future that they were negotiating, was he so mad for children that he would jeopardize her health? Still, she had him. Isabeau snuggled into the cushions and finished her tea.
“There must be eighteen months between pregnancies to ensure proper recovery. And in the event you must choose, you will not prioritize a fetus over my life.” She would live as a poor academic before signing her life and body over to someone with no regard for either. Isabeau pushed up from the couch and offered him her hand once again.
As she turned the question of ability back onto him, Enzo couldn't help but smile. It was only fair, and he did not begrudge her the point in the least. His shoulders shook slightly with mirth as he nodded his head in concession to the point. As she continued, laying out further terms, he again nodded as he could not conceive of being so cruel as to jeopardize her life or well being. But, just as he had reason to push the point of an heir, the truth of the world gave her reason enough to push the point of her own safety.
She was, in every way, entirely reasonable. And that intrigued him, if nothing else. But, it was just all so sudden. The suspicious part of his mind -on guard since his House's fall from grace- would not be still. He did not know this woman. A scheme like this, if it backfired, would harm him more than it harmed her. And what if some ulterior motive lurked beneath the surface? He could not afford to ignore these possibilities.
So, standing just a moment after she did, Enzo did not immediately take her hand. Instead, he lifted his glass from the table, tilting it toward her then took a small sip. "You have given me a great deal to consider, Miss. Icarius." he said, nodding his head and allowing his eyes to divert for a few moments into the middle distance. "You've had your time to decide on it. I would ask that you permit me the same consideration. Respecting that it is a pressing subject, I will have an answer to you by, say... tomorrow evening?" He held his own hand out then, not taking hers, but rather as a counter offer. "Discretely, of course."
Ah. It was slightly disappointing to not have a definite answer right away. But, Isabeau was used to that if she were being honest with herself. Few people made decisions as quickly as she did, bright leaps of logic that seemed so obvious to her – and only her. Pressing people on the subject never ended well. So she merely met Lord Pavus’ gaze and nodded, passing off her teacup to his outstretched hand.
“Very well. You may write to me here.” Izzy withdrew a slim envelope from her cloak’s inner pocket and deposited it upon the desk. It was not unusual for her to receive correspondence at the Circle, from academic peers and students past, present, and presumptive. As long as he wasn’t foolish enough to send perfumed love letters, anything else should pass without remark.
“I will be waiting.” She spent a moment at the window, watching the plaza below. The streets here never truly emptied – but there was little reason for anyone to be watching this window in particular. Unlatching the window, Isabeau drew her cloak tight around her shoulders and resumed her bird form, diving back out into the late winter night.
