The morning is enjoyable, despite the fact that he has to hide beneath his parasol for most of it. Learning about Emon firsthand is important, and doing so with Percival as his guide is...nice. Though Essek would never say so, it feels almost like a date, or what he imagines a date must be like, at least. He's never really been on one before, so his assessment could very well be off the mark. But it feels that way even despite Percival's friend, the charming enchanter Shaun Gilmore, flirting ridiculously with him practically the entire time they're in his shop. Walking along the waterfront, through the marketplace, and seeing the city's prominent sights together has a certain romance about it, which puts Essek in a fine mood. It's unfortunate that their day has to be interrupted for the sake of this party, and he expresses as much with genuine reluctance.
There is something calming about the ritual of getting ready, however, even as he shares space with Percival. Essek dresses in his usual dark colors, this time veering toward a blue-black in an intentional effort to match his husband's color scheme. The cut of his clothing, even the layers that won't be most apparent, is precise and sharp, his boots are shined, and he styles his hair into a neat coif with a casting of Prestidigitation. The jewelry he chooses is understated, but elegant in its simplicity; silver, of course, pointed caps for the tips of his ears, delicate chains lacing down to connect with a duo of smooth white pearls dangling from each lobe. Practical as well as stylish; he could use them to cast Fortune's Favor in a pinch.
Standing in front of a mirror, he sees Percy approach over his shoulder and turns to meet him, gaze darting curiously to the fabric draped over his arm. With light steps, Essek follows him to the end of the bed to see it laid out. Once he realizes what it is, the question he'd been about to ask dies on his tongue.
Reverently, Essek brushes his fingers over the embroidered crest, feeling the quality of the craftsmanship and the fabric itself. The alteration from the usual gold to his preferred silver shows real consideration. The thought of this cloak draped over his shoulders, clearly displaying his connection to Whitestone and the de Rolo family, is genuinely touching in a way Essek could not have anticipated. The sense of belonging and acceptance that it conjures fills his heart. This is no paltry gift.
"Percival...this is incredible." His words are hushed. "You had it made for me?"
"Yes," he says with a small, bright smile. "You are my husband and a lord of Whitestone, Essek Thelyss, and shall be afforded all the rights that come with that title. And everyone should know."
He knows that Essek will be the only drow in the room, even if he is not the only person that has come from Wildemount. And he knows, by virtue of the nature of their marriage, that people will have a spectrum of opinions and will have heard a dozen rumors prior to their arrival. Percival wants to offer this as a shield, if he can: a clear mark of acceptance and belonging even if he cannot be by Essek's side all night.
Percy steps closer and he clasps his hands behind his back to resist the very sudden urge to take one of Essek's hands.
"You are not just a figurehead or symbol," he says quietly. "You have stepped into a role and I have watched you fill it admirably. You are here as my partner, and I will not leave you to enter this sphere alone."
Then, he does give in, but does so in the most elegant way possible. Percy holds Essek's gaze as he takes one of the wizard's hands. He bows over Essek's hand, then presses a light, chaste kiss to the ring that matches his own. His touch lingers as he stands again, but eventually he does let go, returning his hand behind his back.
Percival's words of support and acceptance strike a tender place that Essek has been carefully guarding for most of his life; his desire to belong, to be welcomed, to feel like he is doing something meaningful. In the Dynasty, among his own people, the son of one of the three most powerful women in Xhorhas, Essek had always felt alone, even as he was lauded for his talent for dunamancy and rose through the ranks to become Shadowhand at an unprecedented young age. His brother was his only solace, and eventually Essek pushed even him away,as his ideas and research become more dangerous and heretical.
His isolation, caused by the oppressive expectation of his position in Kryn society and further self-imposed as he felt out of place among his peers, has made him the man he is today: cold, distant, driven, and calculating, with a desire for knowledge stronger than any moral compass he may ever have possessed. Or at least, that was the man he had been before the Mighty Nein. The love and acceptance and forgiveness shown to him by his first ever true friends have changed him irrevocably. He can acknowledge, even in this moment, that he would not be here feeling this rush of powerful emotion for Percival if it weren't for the way they had successfully thawed his heart first.
When his husband takes his hand and raises it to his lips Essek is immediately reminded of the night before. They haven't talked about it, as is Percival's right, but the echo of it and the vulnerability Percy had trusted him with is not lost on him. That the kiss is pressed deliberately over his ring is another plain layer of meaning, and Essek feels a rare sense of certainty. First, the he is exactly where he should be, and second, that he has unexpectedly fallen in love with the man he married.
"I would like nothing more." His voice remains steady only due to a literal century of practice. He holds Percy's gaze, steeling himself. "But in a moment, please."
Percival has withdrawn his hand behind his back, but Essek steps closer to negate the space between them again. Slowly and carefully, wary with every movement of overstepping, he slips his arms around Percy's torso and tucks his face between his collar and his shoulder, initiating a gentle, cautious embrace. "Thank you, k'allis," he murmurs. "This means more to me than you can possibly know."
Even as Essek closes the distance between them, Percival doesn't entirely know what to expect. And so, for an embarrassing moment, he's a bit stiff as his husband embraces him. But after the brief surprise, it feels terribly natural to slide his arms around Essek, to hold the other man against him in a moment of comfort and solidarity. And he allows himself to rest his head against his husband's. He has no idea what Essek has called him, but he suspects it might be a term of endearment if the tone is anything to go by. And he finds himself hoping he might earn hearing it again.
"Neither of us expected to be where we are," he says, voice soft.
He rarely speaks of his family, but moments like this offer tiny hints and glimpses. The third of seven children and the second son, Percival never anticipated needing to step into a leadership role. He'd received the same education as his siblings, but all of that had been very abruptly cut off and never really finished. He has done his best to learn as he goes, all while trying very hard to be seen as a man with purpose and direction. To seem like he knows what he's doing.
And, though Cassandra has been there through it all, he'd felt rather alone in the endeavor. Until recently.
Percival slides his hand up along Essek's back, stopping at his shoulders to keep himself from mussing up his husband's hair. Slowly, somewhat reluctantly, he lets Essek go. He gives the wizard a fond look before retrieving the mantle.
"Now then, shall we go make a devastating impression on the Council and every noble from here to T'zarrm?"
Essek's chest still feels full enough to strain his breathing slightly when they part again, but it's an overwhelmingly good feeling. He thinks he has only been held that way once or twice before in his life, and he already longs to feel those arms secure and comforting around him again.
"I think we have no other choice," Essek declares with a coy smirk. "Especially as my husband looks so dashing tonight."
With that, he turns his back to Percival to allow him to drape the dark blue mantle over his shoulders. The mantle of the Shadowhand always felt so heavy, even after he got used to it. The weight was, eventually, comforting, as was the way his cloak concealed him completely, neck to toe. But this cloak is open enough in the front to show the layers beneath, and the weight of it is not nearly so oppressive. As Percival secures it for him, Essek raises his hands to the clasp around his collar, allowing his fingers to brush over Percy's. He can still see the two of them in the mirror; together, they look perfectly matched.
They do make a striking couple. Percival lingers where he is as Essek's fingers brush over his. It would take nothing to turn his head, to kiss his husband's earlobe... He wets his lips and gives Essek a smile through the mirror before he pulls back to gallantly offer Essek his arm.
The journey to the palace through Emon reveals a different side of the city, but Percival can't quite take his eyes off of his husband. He slips out of the carriage first and offers Essek his hand. The way is well-lit by fires both magic and mundane; the evening air is brisk, but soon enough they're indoors and any outer cloaks and coats are taken to be stored for them. Percival keeps Essek on his arm as they pass through impressive, cathedral-like halls, led by a page. Sometime between the keep and this moment, Essek's husband has shifted from just Percy to the man who is announced when they arrive at the top of the stairs that descend into the ballroom: Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III of Whitestone, accompanied by his husband, Lord Essek Thelyss de Rolo.
Still, a faint smirk ticks his mouth when he hears the whole thing rolled out. He's quite certain even Essek hasn't heard his entire name since the day they were married.
Before them, the grand room is filled with people from across Tal'Dorei, as well as some emissaries from Wildemount and Marquet. Curious eyes - and some judgmental ones - look their way. As they descend the stairs, Percy turns his head to speak in Essek's ear.
"They will separate us at some point," he murmurs. "It's inevitable. But I am just a call away."
Percy briefly touches the single earring he must have put on some time between the keep and the palace, and in an impressive bit of sleight of hand, he delivers a matching one to his husband. He probably should have given it to him sooner, but they had honestly slipped his mind after the embrace in their bedroom. The earrings are enchanted with the message spell: Essek only needs to touch it while he speaks and Percy will hear him so long as they are within a thousand feet of each other. He has every intention of at least staying in Essek's line of sight, but it never hurts to have a back up plan.
Essek floats, of course. Hovering at his usual height makes him nearly as tall as his husband. He isn't about to change his habits for these people, and part of him takes a vicious sort of pleasure in it, knowing that even the arcane minds among them will more than likely have no idea how he's doing it--if they notice at all, beneath the long, rich mantle.
As they're announced his grip tightens every so slightly where his hand rests on Percival's arm. Essek Thelyss de Rolo. The full effect is quite different now than when he'd heard it for the first (and last) time at their wedding. It feels more suited to him. He glances over just in time to catch the ghost of a smirk on Percival's mouth before he turns his attention back to the room at the large. There's a faint shiver at the near brush of lips against his ear and the low pitch of his husband's voice, but nothing obvious. Essek has ever mask and veneer firmly in place, carrying himself effortlessly with the Shadowhand's haughty poise.
There is only a moment to wonder about the earring before he's slipped on himself. Clutching it, his hand moves at his side, tracing subtle glyphs as he murmurs the arcane words for Identify. As the spell takes hold, Essek's expression shifts from curious to impressed.
"Clever."
He spares a smirk for Percy as he secures the earring among his own, hardly out of place. Essek can feel the weight of others' scrutiny on them as they pass among the other party-goers, but that is hardly a new sensation. He makes no move to disengage his arm from Percival's, in no rush to separate any sooner than they have to.
"I presume we must greet the hosts first," he murmurs. It certainly seems like Percy knows where he's going. The confidence he radiates in this setting is striking, and if Essek is being honest with himself, attractive.
Percival cannot help but admire his husband's utterly impassive mask and the staunch confidence of his bearing. Though he has only been deeply engaged in politics for a relatively short amount of time, he's known the value of that skill considerably longer.
"Something like that," he agrees. "The Council is somewhat scattered a the moment, and so..."
He guides Essek through the crowd to introduce him to Allura Vysoren, Master of Arcana and council member, and her wife, Lady Kima of Vord. While Allura has been a friend and ally for years, Percy is vaguely aware of her role in bringing Tal'Dorei into the conflict between the Dynasty and the Empire, even if only to a small extent as a neutral third party. None the less, it's that intervention, and everything that came after it, that led to Essek's current position. He cannot fault her, though, and he cannot say he is disappointed in what has come of her effort.
Of everyone in the room, though, she is the person that Percival trusts the most, and her experience with the arcane and her position on the Council make him believe she and Essek might have plenty to talk about if the ice is broken gently. He hopes so, anyway. He finds himself wanting her support for this union and all that it has become.
This is not, of course, the first time Essek has met Allura Vysoren. Incidentally, the two of them have worked together in the past in a sense; when Allura appeared at the Lucid Bastion, a neutral third party advocating for a ceasefire, Essek had joined her in convincing the Bright Queen to halt the assault on Rexxentrum. Essek recalls the tense atmosphere in the throne room that day, the Bright Queen's desire for blood only temporarily stayed through the joint effort of Allura's argument, Essek's confirmation of the truth of her words, and both invoking the name of the Mighty Nein.
Essek is equally well aware that it is likely Allura's intervention on behalf of the Council that had opened the doorway for his union with Percival. Privately, he has to be grateful to her; if it were not for his useful exile to Whitestone, he would likely be dead or pursued for the rest of his life.
After Percy has been greeted warmly and Essek introduced to Allura's wife, Allura welcomes him and expresses that it is a genuine pleasure to see him again, to Essek's great relief. That she calls him Shadowhand in the process only stings a little.
"My former title," he corrects regretfully. "Unfortunately, I cannot fulfill such an integral role from a continent away. But I have my duties now in Whitestone toward which I have dedicated my full attention. Perhaps Percival has mentioned--"
It is easy, from there, to steer the conversation toward his new position on Whitestone's Council as their own arcane advisor, and, inevitably, the matter of their marriage in general. Though he genuinely likes Allura, he can tell that her wife is scrutinizing him, and speaking with two of Percival's close friends about their relationship and what they intend to make of it together is more than a little intimidating. Essek keeps his arm threaded through Percival's like a lifeline.
Unsurprisingly, it is Lady Kima who asks point-blank what he thinks of Percy in a way that reminds Essek so staunchly of Beauregard that he almost feels homesick for a moment. Thankfully it passes quickly, because he has mere seconds to craft a convincing and truthful response to an increasingly complicated question.
"I have grown quite fond of him," he decides on, with a flicker of a smile and a quick glance toward Percy. It is honest, but not dramatic. "He is a kind, intelligent, and dedicated man who cares about his home and his people. Working with him has already proven enjoyable and fruitful. I think that we are well suited to one another."
Percy relaxes by degrees as the conversation takes off. He watches Essek as he talks to Allura, digging deeper into his expertise with a mind that can not only keep up, but can rush ahead with him. He doesn't realize how fond he looks, but it's likely that anyone within view does.
Including Lady Kima.
He gives the halfling woman a dry look, but doesn't chide her. Rather, he finds himself warming under Essek's quiet praise and, while he cannot hide the sort of bashful look that crosses his face, he manages not to blush. Percival looks down for a moment, then his gaze flicks up to Essek's face, bright and warm and... perhaps it gives him away. But perhaps that's all right.
"Impressively so," he agrees. "It did not take us terribly long to realize we are in the same book, if not always on the same page." But even that they have managed in stride and Percy rather thinks they're there now. "Essek has been integral to some new projects."
He lifts his head when he catches sight of another familiar face. With measured grace, Percival disengages from Essek. His hand slides along his husband's arm to catch his hand, offering it a chaste kiss before they part entirely.
"I leave you in capable hands, I need to have a word with the Hearthmaker." Another council member he will happily introduce his husband to, but Percy wants to get a word in with the somewhat surly dwarf before exchanging pleasantries. He holds Essek's gaze for a moment longer before he gives a polite nod to Allura and Kima. He sweeps off, moving at an impressive clip to catch up to Theadorn.
Despite Percival's seeming propensity for kissing his hands, something that Essek would never complain about, his parting kiss as he leaves to speak with another member of the council is still unexpected. Essek stares after him for a moment, watching his husband's back as he weaves through the crowd. His jacket really does highlight the shape of his shoulders very well.
"You do like him," Lady Kima declares slyly, as though Essek had not just said something much to that effect. But it brings him back to himself and reminds him of the conversation he is supposed to be involved in.
"Yes," he agrees simply, because that seems to be the right thing. "I do."
If he had his way, he would spend the rest of the party talking to Allura. She's interesting, knowledgeable, and he knows for certain that she thinks he belongs here, which is more than he can say for anyone else. But alas, she has others to converse with, and cannot spend her evening discussing magic with him, though she does promise another meeting in a less formal setting. Essek hates parties. At least in Dynasty, he was so well known that he never had to look for anyone to speak with; other would come to him, clamoring for his attention and perhaps a little favor. Irritating, to be sure, but it meant that he had power, which in turn opened up further opportunities.
Before she leaves him entirely, Allura imparts an absolutely crucial bit of wisdom: she lays a hand on his shoulder and leans close enough to speak undetected. "So that you are aware: there are emissaries of the Empire here."
Essek certainly doesn't need to be told why that may prove a problem for him. They could confront him directly, they could spread their malicious misinformation to those he will have to see and work with here, ruining his reputation before he can get a handle on it, or even worse--
Immediately Essek feels his blood run cold. It's because of him. What other reason does the Archmage of Civil Influence, a former Volstrucker, have to suddenly attend a soiree in Tal'Dorei? It isn't exactly her scene. After a week spent at a cautious distance in the Blooming Grove, she would recognize him very well, and he has no doubt that she is aware of the full scope of his crimes, and what a danger he is as a loose end. Which isn't even touching on the awkward circumstance of her being the former lover of his almost--whatever he and Caleb almost were--
His fear and trepidation must somehow register on his face, because he feels Allura squeeze his elbow, her expression sympathetic. "I'll do what I can," she promises him. "She hasn't asked about you, if that is any consolation."
It isn't. Of course she wouldn't ask.
"Thank you," he manages to say, tightly. "The warning is very much appreciated." He and Allura separate after that, and Essek dedicates himself to locating two people: his husband, and Astrid Beck.
One could say that Percival de Rolo has no cause to hold a grudge against the entire Cerberus Assembly for the actions of one disgraced member. And yet, he has been nursing it for years, and despite vengeance, he still doesn't know if there has been any true justice.
When he hears it announced that a member of the Assembly is here, something in him goes steely. The title isn't familiar, nor is the name, but that hardly matters to something etched into his bones. He keeps an eye on her after he's made aware of her presence, though he is careful not to be distracted from his conversations.
"That's Lord Essek Thelyss de Rolo, Baron of the First House of Whitestone and Conservator of Arcane Interests on the Whitestone Council. And he is my husband."
Quickly enough, Essek is successful in locating both of his queries: Percival is closer, in a circle that includes--to Essek's chagrin--at least two people wearing the owl crest of the Dwendalian Empire. Astrid, meanwhile, is almost clear across the room, now speaking with Allura herself. She is wearing what is probably the simplest dress in the room, Essek notes, though the lack of sleeves and the low neckline does nothing to conceal the multitude of visible scars on her body, nor the mazelike tattoos that snake up her arms. She's certainly not making any effort to seem like her background is anything but what it is. Interesting.
He makes for Percival first, meaning to at least advise him of his own wariness, when he overhears the tail end of the conversation in his husband's circle. Honestly, what the Dwendalian spouts is nothing Essek hasn't heard before, and he isn't especially ruffled by it, expecting as much from those of the Empire as a matter of course. But watching Percival snap to his defense without missing a beat, lethal and efficient and cuttingly haughty--now that is something special.
Essek hovers back for a few moments longer just to let the shame and embarrassment really sink in before he approaches, smoothing sliding his hand into the crook of Percy's elbow. "You look bored, k'allis," he says, inviting and coy. He can't keep the smirk from his lips as he very deliberately looks at no one else, as though they may as well not be there. "Have you missed me that much?"
As the two of them make their exit and the conversation plays out behind them, Essek wonders how it could be that entirely by chance he has somehow married the perfect man. He'd resigned himself to a life of lonely exile in a cold corner of a continent that is not his home, and somehow he'd been delivered straight to Percival, who has upended all of his expectations.
Well--perhaps not all of them, he notes wryly as they approach the dance floor. Though they've practiced, Essek would prefer they avoid dancing entirely. Still, Percy has the right idea about where to go to avoid being overhead, and Essek resigns himself with a sigh. "I suppose I should do this properly." With care and consideration for his beautiful new gift, he lifts the edge of his mantle until it is drape over his arm, well clear of the floor, before he allows his feet to touch the ground. "Lead, please," he requests primly, and arranges his hands accordingly to follow.
They slide into place smoothly among the other dancers, which Essek credits to Percy's grace in this area. When he feels sufficiently obscured, he begins to share the most pressing (and least incriminating) pieces of what is on his mind.
"I am very concerned about Astrid--the Archmage of Civil Influence, who is in attendance tonight," he confesses, keeping his voice low. "She and I are...acquainted, from my stint with the Mighty Nein." Among other things. "I am not entirely certain how she feels about me, given my former position, or my presence here. She is an extremely dangerous person, even without her new title."
Percy has the grace to hide his surprise when his husband lowers himself to touch the ground, but he cannot hide his pleasure. When Essek is ready, he steps closer to gather his husband in his arms. He waits, allowing Essek to settle into the position and to make sure he can start on the right beat. But then, they're off.
"I cannot say I am thrilled to hear of any member of the Cerberus Academy in Tal'Dorei." He knows there are certainly agents across the continent, but a ranking member is another matter entirely. Percy knows his distaste for the Assembly may seem random, but he does not offer any further insight to his position. He's more concerned about Essek's discomfort.
As they spin around the dancefloor, Percy manages to catch sight of Astrid in passing. The fact that they are in motion obscures that he is looking at all, and quickly enough his attention is centered on Essek again.
"Do you think she's hear for some specific purpose? Something regarding you?"
Lips pursed in a thin line, Essek shakes his head. "I cannot say. Perhaps."
What he wants to say is yes, I think she is here because of me but I don't know what she wants. But that would be presuming much, even if it is likely, and he also can't give Percy an honest reason for why she would want to target him specifically without exposing things he is far from ready to discuss with his still relatively new spouse.
While he knows that Percy must be looking for her when he glances away, Essek keeps his gaze steadily on Percy. "You are probably aware that the Assembly and the Empire's leadership have a...symbiotic relationship, you could say. Though the crown has its own network of spies, the Augen Trust, the Archmage of Civil Influence is specifically in charge of the Volstrucker, an elite force of assassins and spies specially trained in the arcane arts. Astrid was one herself until very recently."
As he talks, excuses come to him. It doesn't feel good to tell his husband half truths, but they sound plausible, which is what he needs now. "I have been a target for such assassins practically since I became Shadowhand. But this is the first time I have ever been...vulnerable, I suppose. Far from the Dynasty. I still know many secrets that would be of great use to the Empire. I worry that I am now seen as...easy pickings, perhaps. My own arcane abilities can only protect me so much, especially against an opponent who is a trained killer and also an experienced magic user."
"Would she risk the upheaval it would cause?" he asks, keeping a frown off his face but not hiding his concern. To strike Essek now would put a treaty in jeopardy, though... it is between Tal'Dorei and the Kryn, and the Empire may see no reason not to try to dismantle it. On the other hand, it means provoking both parties against the Empire, and if they were to be a united front...
Percival looks at his husband and his hand tightens briefly where it holds Essek's. He's quiet for a moment as he leads them around the floor, relying on muscle memory as his mind works.
"We could always try to find out why she's here," he says after a moment. He'll try to get something out of Seeker Assum, or at the very least alert him. Though he cannot imagine that the Council's spymaster would have no knowledge of this woman or the risks she could pose. Still, he wants to protect Essek however he can.
"You may yet be a target, but you are not alone. Nor are you completely unprotected."
Percy spins them to the edge of the floor and stops them there. Unthinking, he reaches up to cup Essek's cheek. This man who has become dear to him... He looks up again, making a quick scan of the room. Then he leans down, lips against Essek's ear.
"She's leaving with someone, out into the hall. I suddenly find myself in need of a bit of air... will you join me?"
"If she were to do anything, I have no doubt that she would be able to cover her tracks well enough to avoid casting suspicion on herself or the Empire. We should attempt further investigation, but I think it is likely that her presence tonight is merely an assessment, or perhaps an intimidation tactic. Volstrucker are not clumsy. It is why so few people are even aware of their existence." Essek grimaces, glad when Percival leads them off the dance floor. His head isn't really in it and he feels clumsy, even if he hadn't missed any steps.
Lost in his own thoughts, Essek is startled by the hand cupping his face, and briefly thrown off by the sweetness of the gesture. His eyes dart up to meet Percy's and he finds a gravity there that serves to calm his anxiety enough for focus to return. He isn't alone. He has his husband, someone who cares for him. Someone who had mere minutes ago defended him without even knowing that Essek would overhear it. After a lifetime of relying only on himself, it's easy to forget that he now has someone else willing and able to protect him. Being reminded of that brings a surge of emotion that Essek can't compartmentalize quickly enough to keep it from showing. His lips part gently and his brow furrows up. But the time for these feelings is not now. They have a chance to find out what is really happening here, and they must act quickly.
It's honestly remarkable how quickly Essek can school his features back into a confident smirk, and how it immediately makes him feel more secure. Honesty is difficult.
"By all means, let us step out for a moment."
He reengages his anti-gravity spell automatically as they make their way as quickly as they can toward the hallway exit without seeming suspiciously in a rush. Floating means that Essek easily avoids stepping on any toes, and when they finally leave the ballroom chamber and step into the comparatively low-lit hall, he makes no sound beyond the soft rustle of his cloak.
They're just in time to see Astrid enter a door several rooms down and close it behind her. She was speaking, but as Essek processes what little he heard, he realizes he didn't understand a word of it and immediately recognizes the language as Zemnian. This close to the party, Essek would guess that the room she's using must be an ancillary sitting room or something of the sort for hosting more private meetings. If anyone is still talking, their voices don't carry this far through the closed door. They'll have to get closer.
While Percival doesn't have the benefit of floating, he has plenty of experience making his way quickly through crowded spaces. They move with confidence, but not raw urgency. To do so would draw attention they most certainly do not want.
The corridor is far more quiet and cooler, and Percy breathes a quiet sigh. He doesn't mind social functions, but the press and the swirl of people occasionally overwhelms him. He'd learned long ago to mask that. He catches sight of the woman in question disappearing through a door and he mutters a soft curse. He recognizes the room, though, and his fingers brush Essek's on his way closer. He recalls the door being relatively light: built for privacy but not security. Which means they may have a solid chance of hearing through it if they're just close enough.
Percival brings them to a little alcove near the door itself, purely decorative and not immediately visible from the door itself unless someone makes an effort. He lets Essek stand closer to the room, assuming he's in better position to provide cover. He doesn't speak Zemnian - perhaps an oversight that should be corrected - nor does he have any spells that might allow him to understand.
The slightly more secluded spot Percival leads them to puts them well within range to hear the murmur conversation through the door, thankfully. Muffled, but audible. Essek hears what is distinctly Astrid's voice followed by a male baritone, low and resonant, and recognizes that voice right away also. Of course she brought her guard dog along. Had he been at the party the whole time, or somewhere else? It's the latter thought that's more concerning.
With a whisper and a gesture, Essek casts a high-level Comprehend Languages, enabling both of them to understand what's being spoken. Essek's ears prick, the tips flickering minutely.
"--found nothing about increased shipments." Eadwulf. A chuckle follows, and his tone turns teasing. "You sure this wasn't just an excuse to check up on Bren's drow boyfriend?"
"That isn't important here, as you are well aware." Astrid, unruffled. "What matters is that he is now the lord of Whitestone's drow husband. The Kyrn aren't going to let the disgraced Shadowhand retire to Tal'Dorei to marry just any noble. There is a good reason for his placement, and I can't think of a better one than residuum. Even in small quantities, more than half the raw ore on the market comes from Whitestone. If the Dynasty is getting a direct supply, I need to know about it."
Essek feels a churning in his stomach, though he can't immediately tell if it's nerves or relief. They apparently aren't here to assassinate him. That's good. That's very good. But the Empire digging into Tal'Dorei's arrangement with the Dynasty could be catastrophic, especially with Astrid's knowledge of his crimes. She could leverage that any number of ways if she decides to. And the casual mention of Caleb--it's a lot, on top of everything else. Without really meaning to, Essek shrinks back a little further into the alcove, putting his back to the wall. In hindsight, would really prefer that Percival not hear any of this.
It's strange as the spell takes effect, like coming back into a conversation he hasn't been paying attention to. He listens closely, intent and quietly grave as they discuss the economic situation between Whitestone and the Dynasty. Though the marriage treaty had been arranged with Tal'Dorei, Whitestone is self-governed and so it is with Percy's ultimate consent that any of this happened. Allura had been convincing in her arguments, but he'd been active in the negotiations regarding trade agreements. He isn't an arcanist but he understands the value of residuum and, in a general way, what it can be used for.
It takes him a moment to realize that Essek has backed away, pressed to the wall in the alcove as if he can't stand to hear more. But Percival cannot bring himself to stop listening. They might only be here for the sake of gathering information, but it is information that ultimately involves Whitestone. And his husband's place there.
Percival looks away from the door, turning his attention to Essek. He doesn't want to risk speaking just yet, but he reaches to touch the wizard's hand, fingers lightly catching.
Percy's touch is reassuring, despite the circumstances. When Essek looks up at him he realizes he's been gradually lowering himself to the floor. The tips of his toes are nearly touching it. He almost wants to open his mouth and apologize. As much as he wants to change, he can't possibly live a life free from deception. He wants to tell his husband the truth after this, lay everything out for him, but how can he be sure he'll still have a husband and a home afterward? He has done heinous, unforgivable things, and it is nothing short of a miracle that the Mighty Nein have weighed his actions against one another and found him worthy of love still. There is no promise that Percival would come to the same conclusion. And if he could no longer keep up his part of their marriage agreement, his exile and therefore the stay on his execution would expire. He needs to be certain that Percival will still keep him. His life literally hangs in the balance.
While he has been thinking, the conversation in the next room has continued.
"So what do you want to pursue?"
"We'll meet with your contact. You'll get details, and I'll have to return to the party."
There's a little shuffling, possibly the scrape of furniture against the stone floor. A few other words whispered too softly to hear. And then, "Okay, come on."
There is no sound, but Essek feels the thrum of high-level magic in the air. The silence continues for several long seconds as he considers what may have occurred. Have they gone somewhere else? Was the spell Teleport? If one has the spells to spare, that would certainly be faster and easier than sneaking around a crowded castle. Essek frowns as he looks to Percy again. He doesn't want to depart just yet on the chance that he is wrong, but he risks a murmur, drawing closer to do so.
"I think they have left." He hesitates a moment before adding, "I am sorry. All of that was..." What are the words for it? Incriminating? Proof that he is not to be trusted?
Percival frowns at the mention of a contact. His mind races as he considers his options. He could speak to Seeker Assum, even if it's possible the spymaster already knows all about this. He could get a message back to Cassandra. He could--
He turns his head back to Essek when he speaks. The hesitation in the wizard is noticeable. Percy knows that Essek is caught up in something. Why else would the Bright Queen marry off such a ranking member of her court? He's suspected there is more to this arrangement on the Dynasty's end, but he has refrained from asking Essek - he seems to have embraced his new life. The Empire's interest in him doesn't really surprise Percival, all told, but...
His thumb brushes lightly over Essek's wedding band. Vows are only as good as the people making them.
"Was politics that I'm not entirely ignorant to," he says quietly as he meets Essek's gaze. "Essek--"
He cuts himself off as light pours into the corridor from one of the ballroom doors opening. Percival freezes, suddenly wondering if this alcove is enough to conceal them from people that might walk by.
The moment Percival says his name, Essek feels his heart beat harder in his chest. He should tell him the truth. Have the Nein taught him nothing? Whatever the risk to himself, he needs to be honest with his husband, for Percival's sake, for the sake of his new home--
Everything is interrupted by the beam of light slashing into the corridor's relative darkness as several figures emerge. Essek can hear them talking and laughing, but what they're saying doesn't matter. What matters is that there is no way they won't be seen as the group passes by. Essek immediately curses himself for not preparing Invisibility today. He can't cloak them, but being spotted here will look deeply suspicious.
Apart from snooping and conspiring, what else could they be doing? The answer is obvious.
"Trust me," he whisper urgently, which is probably the most absurd thing in the world. With Percival's hand still holding his, it's easy for Essek to return the grip and tug on his arm, urging him closer as he puts his back to the wall. Raising his other hand to his husband's face, he traces the sharp, handsome line of his jaw with the tips of his fingers before boldly covering the back of his neck, using it to draw him down as Essek leans up. There is no time to prepare himself. One moment he is looking into Percival's eyes and the next he is kissing him, full and wanting. This needs to be convincing, and a tentative, hesitant kiss won't cut it.
It's unexpected and sudden and possibly far too soon, but Essek feels his heart trip anyway with nervous excitement, feeling Percival's mouth against his and his body crowding close.
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There is something calming about the ritual of getting ready, however, even as he shares space with Percival. Essek dresses in his usual dark colors, this time veering toward a blue-black in an intentional effort to match his husband's color scheme. The cut of his clothing, even the layers that won't be most apparent, is precise and sharp, his boots are shined, and he styles his hair into a neat coif with a casting of Prestidigitation. The jewelry he chooses is understated, but elegant in its simplicity; silver, of course, pointed caps for the tips of his ears, delicate chains lacing down to connect with a duo of smooth white pearls dangling from each lobe. Practical as well as stylish; he could use them to cast Fortune's Favor in a pinch.
Standing in front of a mirror, he sees Percy approach over his shoulder and turns to meet him, gaze darting curiously to the fabric draped over his arm. With light steps, Essek follows him to the end of the bed to see it laid out. Once he realizes what it is, the question he'd been about to ask dies on his tongue.
Reverently, Essek brushes his fingers over the embroidered crest, feeling the quality of the craftsmanship and the fabric itself. The alteration from the usual gold to his preferred silver shows real consideration. The thought of this cloak draped over his shoulders, clearly displaying his connection to Whitestone and the de Rolo family, is genuinely touching in a way Essek could not have anticipated. The sense of belonging and acceptance that it conjures fills his heart. This is no paltry gift.
"Percival...this is incredible." His words are hushed. "You had it made for me?"
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He knows that Essek will be the only drow in the room, even if he is not the only person that has come from Wildemount. And he knows, by virtue of the nature of their marriage, that people will have a spectrum of opinions and will have heard a dozen rumors prior to their arrival. Percival wants to offer this as a shield, if he can: a clear mark of acceptance and belonging even if he cannot be by Essek's side all night.
Percy steps closer and he clasps his hands behind his back to resist the very sudden urge to take one of Essek's hands.
"You are not just a figurehead or symbol," he says quietly. "You have stepped into a role and I have watched you fill it admirably. You are here as my partner, and I will not leave you to enter this sphere alone."
Then, he does give in, but does so in the most elegant way possible. Percy holds Essek's gaze as he takes one of the wizard's hands. He bows over Essek's hand, then presses a light, chaste kiss to the ring that matches his own. His touch lingers as he stands again, but eventually he does let go, returning his hand behind his back.
"Shall I help you into it?"
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His isolation, caused by the oppressive expectation of his position in Kryn society and further self-imposed as he felt out of place among his peers, has made him the man he is today: cold, distant, driven, and calculating, with a desire for knowledge stronger than any moral compass he may ever have possessed. Or at least, that was the man he had been before the Mighty Nein. The love and acceptance and forgiveness shown to him by his first ever true friends have changed him irrevocably. He can acknowledge, even in this moment, that he would not be here feeling this rush of powerful emotion for Percival if it weren't for the way they had successfully thawed his heart first.
When his husband takes his hand and raises it to his lips Essek is immediately reminded of the night before. They haven't talked about it, as is Percival's right, but the echo of it and the vulnerability Percy had trusted him with is not lost on him. That the kiss is pressed deliberately over his ring is another plain layer of meaning, and Essek feels a rare sense of certainty. First, the he is exactly where he should be, and second, that he has unexpectedly fallen in love with the man he married.
"I would like nothing more." His voice remains steady only due to a literal century of practice. He holds Percy's gaze, steeling himself. "But in a moment, please."
Percival has withdrawn his hand behind his back, but Essek steps closer to negate the space between them again. Slowly and carefully, wary with every movement of overstepping, he slips his arms around Percy's torso and tucks his face between his collar and his shoulder, initiating a gentle, cautious embrace. "Thank you, k'allis," he murmurs. "This means more to me than you can possibly know."
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"Neither of us expected to be where we are," he says, voice soft.
He rarely speaks of his family, but moments like this offer tiny hints and glimpses. The third of seven children and the second son, Percival never anticipated needing to step into a leadership role. He'd received the same education as his siblings, but all of that had been very abruptly cut off and never really finished. He has done his best to learn as he goes, all while trying very hard to be seen as a man with purpose and direction. To seem like he knows what he's doing.
And, though Cassandra has been there through it all, he'd felt rather alone in the endeavor. Until recently.
Percival slides his hand up along Essek's back, stopping at his shoulders to keep himself from mussing up his husband's hair. Slowly, somewhat reluctantly, he lets Essek go. He gives the wizard a fond look before retrieving the mantle.
"Now then, shall we go make a devastating impression on the Council and every noble from here to T'zarrm?"
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"I think we have no other choice," Essek declares with a coy smirk. "Especially as my husband looks so dashing tonight."
With that, he turns his back to Percival to allow him to drape the dark blue mantle over his shoulders. The mantle of the Shadowhand always felt so heavy, even after he got used to it. The weight was, eventually, comforting, as was the way his cloak concealed him completely, neck to toe. But this cloak is open enough in the front to show the layers beneath, and the weight of it is not nearly so oppressive. As Percival secures it for him, Essek raises his hands to the clasp around his collar, allowing his fingers to brush over Percy's. He can still see the two of them in the mirror; together, they look perfectly matched.
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The journey to the palace through Emon reveals a different side of the city, but Percival can't quite take his eyes off of his husband. He slips out of the carriage first and offers Essek his hand. The way is well-lit by fires both magic and mundane; the evening air is brisk, but soon enough they're indoors and any outer cloaks and coats are taken to be stored for them. Percival keeps Essek on his arm as they pass through impressive, cathedral-like halls, led by a page. Sometime between the keep and this moment, Essek's husband has shifted from just Percy to the man who is announced when they arrive at the top of the stairs that descend into the ballroom: Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III of Whitestone, accompanied by his husband, Lord Essek Thelyss de Rolo.
Still, a faint smirk ticks his mouth when he hears the whole thing rolled out. He's quite certain even Essek hasn't heard his entire name since the day they were married.
Before them, the grand room is filled with people from across Tal'Dorei, as well as some emissaries from Wildemount and Marquet. Curious eyes - and some judgmental ones - look their way. As they descend the stairs, Percy turns his head to speak in Essek's ear.
"They will separate us at some point," he murmurs. "It's inevitable. But I am just a call away."
Percy briefly touches the single earring he must have put on some time between the keep and the palace, and in an impressive bit of sleight of hand, he delivers a matching one to his husband. He probably should have given it to him sooner, but they had honestly slipped his mind after the embrace in their bedroom. The earrings are enchanted with the message spell: Essek only needs to touch it while he speaks and Percy will hear him so long as they are within a thousand feet of each other. He has every intention of at least staying in Essek's line of sight, but it never hurts to have a back up plan.
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As they're announced his grip tightens every so slightly where his hand rests on Percival's arm. Essek Thelyss de Rolo. The full effect is quite different now than when he'd heard it for the first (and last) time at their wedding. It feels more suited to him. He glances over just in time to catch the ghost of a smirk on Percival's mouth before he turns his attention back to the room at the large. There's a faint shiver at the near brush of lips against his ear and the low pitch of his husband's voice, but nothing obvious. Essek has ever mask and veneer firmly in place, carrying himself effortlessly with the Shadowhand's haughty poise.
There is only a moment to wonder about the earring before he's slipped on himself. Clutching it, his hand moves at his side, tracing subtle glyphs as he murmurs the arcane words for Identify. As the spell takes hold, Essek's expression shifts from curious to impressed.
"Clever."
He spares a smirk for Percy as he secures the earring among his own, hardly out of place. Essek can feel the weight of others' scrutiny on them as they pass among the other party-goers, but that is hardly a new sensation. He makes no move to disengage his arm from Percival's, in no rush to separate any sooner than they have to.
"I presume we must greet the hosts first," he murmurs. It certainly seems like Percy knows where he's going. The confidence he radiates in this setting is striking, and if Essek is being honest with himself, attractive.
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"Something like that," he agrees. "The Council is somewhat scattered a the moment, and so..."
He guides Essek through the crowd to introduce him to Allura Vysoren, Master of Arcana and council member, and her wife, Lady Kima of Vord. While Allura has been a friend and ally for years, Percy is vaguely aware of her role in bringing Tal'Dorei into the conflict between the Dynasty and the Empire, even if only to a small extent as a neutral third party. None the less, it's that intervention, and everything that came after it, that led to Essek's current position. He cannot fault her, though, and he cannot say he is disappointed in what has come of her effort.
Of everyone in the room, though, she is the person that Percival trusts the most, and her experience with the arcane and her position on the Council make him believe she and Essek might have plenty to talk about if the ice is broken gently. He hopes so, anyway. He finds himself wanting her support for this union and all that it has become.
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Essek is equally well aware that it is likely Allura's intervention on behalf of the Council that had opened the doorway for his union with Percival. Privately, he has to be grateful to her; if it were not for his useful exile to Whitestone, he would likely be dead or pursued for the rest of his life.
After Percy has been greeted warmly and Essek introduced to Allura's wife, Allura welcomes him and expresses that it is a genuine pleasure to see him again, to Essek's great relief. That she calls him Shadowhand in the process only stings a little.
"My former title," he corrects regretfully. "Unfortunately, I cannot fulfill such an integral role from a continent away. But I have my duties now in Whitestone toward which I have dedicated my full attention. Perhaps Percival has mentioned--"
It is easy, from there, to steer the conversation toward his new position on Whitestone's Council as their own arcane advisor, and, inevitably, the matter of their marriage in general. Though he genuinely likes Allura, he can tell that her wife is scrutinizing him, and speaking with two of Percival's close friends about their relationship and what they intend to make of it together is more than a little intimidating. Essek keeps his arm threaded through Percival's like a lifeline.
Unsurprisingly, it is Lady Kima who asks point-blank what he thinks of Percy in a way that reminds Essek so staunchly of Beauregard that he almost feels homesick for a moment. Thankfully it passes quickly, because he has mere seconds to craft a convincing and truthful response to an increasingly complicated question.
"I have grown quite fond of him," he decides on, with a flicker of a smile and a quick glance toward Percy. It is honest, but not dramatic. "He is a kind, intelligent, and dedicated man who cares about his home and his people. Working with him has already proven enjoyable and fruitful. I think that we are well suited to one another."
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Including Lady Kima.
He gives the halfling woman a dry look, but doesn't chide her. Rather, he finds himself warming under Essek's quiet praise and, while he cannot hide the sort of bashful look that crosses his face, he manages not to blush. Percival looks down for a moment, then his gaze flicks up to Essek's face, bright and warm and... perhaps it gives him away. But perhaps that's all right.
"Impressively so," he agrees. "It did not take us terribly long to realize we are in the same book, if not always on the same page." But even that they have managed in stride and Percy rather thinks they're there now. "Essek has been integral to some new projects."
He lifts his head when he catches sight of another familiar face. With measured grace, Percival disengages from Essek. His hand slides along his husband's arm to catch his hand, offering it a chaste kiss before they part entirely.
"I leave you in capable hands, I need to have a word with the Hearthmaker." Another council member he will happily introduce his husband to, but Percy wants to get a word in with the somewhat surly dwarf before exchanging pleasantries. He holds Essek's gaze for a moment longer before he gives a polite nod to Allura and Kima. He sweeps off, moving at an impressive clip to catch up to Theadorn.
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"You do like him," Lady Kima declares slyly, as though Essek had not just said something much to that effect. But it brings him back to himself and reminds him of the conversation he is supposed to be involved in.
"Yes," he agrees simply, because that seems to be the right thing. "I do."
If he had his way, he would spend the rest of the party talking to Allura. She's interesting, knowledgeable, and he knows for certain that she thinks he belongs here, which is more than he can say for anyone else. But alas, she has others to converse with, and cannot spend her evening discussing magic with him, though she does promise another meeting in a less formal setting. Essek hates parties. At least in Dynasty, he was so well known that he never had to look for anyone to speak with; other would come to him, clamoring for his attention and perhaps a little favor. Irritating, to be sure, but it meant that he had power, which in turn opened up further opportunities.
Before she leaves him entirely, Allura imparts an absolutely crucial bit of wisdom: she lays a hand on his shoulder and leans close enough to speak undetected. "So that you are aware: there are emissaries of the Empire here."
Essek certainly doesn't need to be told why that may prove a problem for him. They could confront him directly, they could spread their malicious misinformation to those he will have to see and work with here, ruining his reputation before he can get a handle on it, or even worse--
"Who?"
Allura leans back, brow furrowing. "Astrid Beck, the new Archmage of Civil Influence, and a few attachés from Dwendal's court. She asked to be put on the guest list last minute. I'll admit that I don't know much about her yet."
Immediately Essek feels his blood run cold. It's because of him. What other reason does the Archmage of Civil Influence, a former Volstrucker, have to suddenly attend a soiree in Tal'Dorei? It isn't exactly her scene. After a week spent at a cautious distance in the Blooming Grove, she would recognize him very well, and he has no doubt that she is aware of the full scope of his crimes, and what a danger he is as a loose end. Which isn't even touching on the awkward circumstance of her being the former lover of his almost--whatever he and Caleb almost were--
His fear and trepidation must somehow register on his face, because he feels Allura squeeze his elbow, her expression sympathetic. "I'll do what I can," she promises him. "She hasn't asked about you, if that is any consolation."
It isn't. Of course she wouldn't ask.
"Thank you," he manages to say, tightly. "The warning is very much appreciated." He and Allura separate after that, and Essek dedicates himself to locating two people: his husband, and Astrid Beck.
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When he hears it announced that a member of the Assembly is here, something in him goes steely. The title isn't familiar, nor is the name, but that hardly matters to something etched into his bones. He keeps an eye on her after he's made aware of her presence, though he is careful not to be distracted from his conversations.
He's in a circle with a few of the attachés from the Empire, as well as a handful of nobles from other parts of Tal'Dorei, a glass of wine in hand. He's already in a mood, and so when one of the attachés so casually says something insidiously vile about the Kryn Dynasty in general, and makes an insinuation about Essek specifically, he has no interest in holding his tongue while his husband is slandered. He's in a mood to obliterate someone.
"Excuse me."
Percival does not raise his voice, but suddenly everyone in their circle has fallen silent and they are looking at him. He looks at his wine for a second longer, then cuts his gaze to the attaché. The man starts to open his mouth again and Percy makes a gesture to silence him.
"That's Lord Essek Thelyss de Rolo, Baron of the First House of Whitestone and Conservator of Arcane Interests on the Whitestone Council. And he is my husband."
His tone is genteel, with a few generations of nobility and sheer wealth to back up the snobbery he is about to unleash. His back is straight, and his eyes are utterly unforgiving despite the ease with which he speaks. He might almost sound friendly, if not for the way he has pinned the man in place. The attaché squirms beneath his unyielding attention.
"So despite what opinions you may hold of drow or the Kryn in particular, do watch your manners."
The condescension in Percy's voice is enough to make a few people look away in secondhand embarrassment. He holds the attaché's gaze, then smiles. There is nothing kind in it.
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He makes for Percival first, meaning to at least advise him of his own wariness, when he overhears the tail end of the conversation in his husband's circle. Honestly, what the Dwendalian spouts is nothing Essek hasn't heard before, and he isn't especially ruffled by it, expecting as much from those of the Empire as a matter of course. But watching Percival snap to his defense without missing a beat, lethal and efficient and cuttingly haughty--now that is something special.
Essek hovers back for a few moments longer just to let the shame and embarrassment really sink in before he approaches, smoothing sliding his hand into the crook of Percy's elbow. "You look bored, k'allis," he says, inviting and coy. He can't keep the smirk from his lips as he very deliberately looks at no one else, as though they may as well not be there. "Have you missed me that much?"
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"Only debating matters of etiquette," he says warmly. "But your absence was sorely noted."
He hands off his wine glass to a passing server and offers a gracious smile to the others in their circle.
"Pardon me, I have neglected my husband long enough."
As Percy turns them from the group, he can hear a flurry of low voices pick up conversation: more than one suggest the attaché should probably find a way to apologize before leaving Tal'Dorei, as it would be terrible if trade with Whitestone suffered due to a slight. There is something to be said for sitting on top of a very valuable mineral, and while Percy has no intention of interrupting trade, he's content to let someone sweat over the possibility.
He steers them toward the dance floor, as it is one of the few places they might have any chance at privacy without stepping out.
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Well--perhaps not all of them, he notes wryly as they approach the dance floor. Though they've practiced, Essek would prefer they avoid dancing entirely. Still, Percy has the right idea about where to go to avoid being overhead, and Essek resigns himself with a sigh. "I suppose I should do this properly." With care and consideration for his beautiful new gift, he lifts the edge of his mantle until it is drape over his arm, well clear of the floor, before he allows his feet to touch the ground. "Lead, please," he requests primly, and arranges his hands accordingly to follow.
They slide into place smoothly among the other dancers, which Essek credits to Percy's grace in this area. When he feels sufficiently obscured, he begins to share the most pressing (and least incriminating) pieces of what is on his mind.
"I am very concerned about Astrid--the Archmage of Civil Influence, who is in attendance tonight," he confesses, keeping his voice low. "She and I are...acquainted, from my stint with the Mighty Nein." Among other things. "I am not entirely certain how she feels about me, given my former position, or my presence here. She is an extremely dangerous person, even without her new title."
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"I cannot say I am thrilled to hear of any member of the Cerberus Academy in Tal'Dorei." He knows there are certainly agents across the continent, but a ranking member is another matter entirely. Percy knows his distaste for the Assembly may seem random, but he does not offer any further insight to his position. He's more concerned about Essek's discomfort.
As they spin around the dancefloor, Percy manages to catch sight of Astrid in passing. The fact that they are in motion obscures that he is looking at all, and quickly enough his attention is centered on Essek again.
"Do you think she's hear for some specific purpose? Something regarding you?"
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What he wants to say is yes, I think she is here because of me but I don't know what she wants. But that would be presuming much, even if it is likely, and he also can't give Percy an honest reason for why she would want to target him specifically without exposing things he is far from ready to discuss with his still relatively new spouse.
While he knows that Percy must be looking for her when he glances away, Essek keeps his gaze steadily on Percy. "You are probably aware that the Assembly and the Empire's leadership have a...symbiotic relationship, you could say. Though the crown has its own network of spies, the Augen Trust, the Archmage of Civil Influence is specifically in charge of the Volstrucker, an elite force of assassins and spies specially trained in the arcane arts. Astrid was one herself until very recently."
As he talks, excuses come to him. It doesn't feel good to tell his husband half truths, but they sound plausible, which is what he needs now. "I have been a target for such assassins practically since I became Shadowhand. But this is the first time I have ever been...vulnerable, I suppose. Far from the Dynasty. I still know many secrets that would be of great use to the Empire. I worry that I am now seen as...easy pickings, perhaps. My own arcane abilities can only protect me so much, especially against an opponent who is a trained killer and also an experienced magic user."
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Percival looks at his husband and his hand tightens briefly where it holds Essek's. He's quiet for a moment as he leads them around the floor, relying on muscle memory as his mind works.
"We could always try to find out why she's here," he says after a moment. He'll try to get something out of Seeker Assum, or at the very least alert him. Though he cannot imagine that the Council's spymaster would have no knowledge of this woman or the risks she could pose. Still, he wants to protect Essek however he can.
"You may yet be a target, but you are not alone. Nor are you completely unprotected."
Percy spins them to the edge of the floor and stops them there. Unthinking, he reaches up to cup Essek's cheek. This man who has become dear to him... He looks up again, making a quick scan of the room. Then he leans down, lips against Essek's ear.
"She's leaving with someone, out into the hall. I suddenly find myself in need of a bit of air... will you join me?"
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Lost in his own thoughts, Essek is startled by the hand cupping his face, and briefly thrown off by the sweetness of the gesture. His eyes dart up to meet Percy's and he finds a gravity there that serves to calm his anxiety enough for focus to return. He isn't alone. He has his husband, someone who cares for him. Someone who had mere minutes ago defended him without even knowing that Essek would overhear it. After a lifetime of relying only on himself, it's easy to forget that he now has someone else willing and able to protect him. Being reminded of that brings a surge of emotion that Essek can't compartmentalize quickly enough to keep it from showing. His lips part gently and his brow furrows up. But the time for these feelings is not now. They have a chance to find out what is really happening here, and they must act quickly.
It's honestly remarkable how quickly Essek can school his features back into a confident smirk, and how it immediately makes him feel more secure. Honesty is difficult.
"By all means, let us step out for a moment."
He reengages his anti-gravity spell automatically as they make their way as quickly as they can toward the hallway exit without seeming suspiciously in a rush. Floating means that Essek easily avoids stepping on any toes, and when they finally leave the ballroom chamber and step into the comparatively low-lit hall, he makes no sound beyond the soft rustle of his cloak.
They're just in time to see Astrid enter a door several rooms down and close it behind her. She was speaking, but as Essek processes what little he heard, he realizes he didn't understand a word of it and immediately recognizes the language as Zemnian. This close to the party, Essek would guess that the room she's using must be an ancillary sitting room or something of the sort for hosting more private meetings. If anyone is still talking, their voices don't carry this far through the closed door. They'll have to get closer.
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The corridor is far more quiet and cooler, and Percy breathes a quiet sigh. He doesn't mind social functions, but the press and the swirl of people occasionally overwhelms him. He'd learned long ago to mask that. He catches sight of the woman in question disappearing through a door and he mutters a soft curse. He recognizes the room, though, and his fingers brush Essek's on his way closer. He recalls the door being relatively light: built for privacy but not security. Which means they may have a solid chance of hearing through it if they're just close enough.
Percival brings them to a little alcove near the door itself, purely decorative and not immediately visible from the door itself unless someone makes an effort. He lets Essek stand closer to the room, assuming he's in better position to provide cover. He doesn't speak Zemnian - perhaps an oversight that should be corrected - nor does he have any spells that might allow him to understand.
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With a whisper and a gesture, Essek casts a high-level Comprehend Languages, enabling both of them to understand what's being spoken. Essek's ears prick, the tips flickering minutely.
"--found nothing about increased shipments." Eadwulf. A chuckle follows, and his tone turns teasing. "You sure this wasn't just an excuse to check up on Bren's drow boyfriend?"
"That isn't important here, as you are well aware." Astrid, unruffled. "What matters is that he is now the lord of Whitestone's drow husband. The Kyrn aren't going to let the disgraced Shadowhand retire to Tal'Dorei to marry just any noble. There is a good reason for his placement, and I can't think of a better one than residuum. Even in small quantities, more than half the raw ore on the market comes from Whitestone. If the Dynasty is getting a direct supply, I need to know about it."
Essek feels a churning in his stomach, though he can't immediately tell if it's nerves or relief. They apparently aren't here to assassinate him. That's good. That's very good. But the Empire digging into Tal'Dorei's arrangement with the Dynasty could be catastrophic, especially with Astrid's knowledge of his crimes. She could leverage that any number of ways if she decides to. And the casual mention of Caleb--it's a lot, on top of everything else. Without really meaning to, Essek shrinks back a little further into the alcove, putting his back to the wall. In hindsight, would really prefer that Percival not hear any of this.
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It takes him a moment to realize that Essek has backed away, pressed to the wall in the alcove as if he can't stand to hear more. But Percival cannot bring himself to stop listening. They might only be here for the sake of gathering information, but it is information that ultimately involves Whitestone. And his husband's place there.
Percival looks away from the door, turning his attention to Essek. He doesn't want to risk speaking just yet, but he reaches to touch the wizard's hand, fingers lightly catching.
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While he has been thinking, the conversation in the next room has continued.
"So what do you want to pursue?"
"We'll meet with your contact. You'll get details, and I'll have to return to the party."
There's a little shuffling, possibly the scrape of furniture against the stone floor. A few other words whispered too softly to hear. And then, "Okay, come on."
There is no sound, but Essek feels the thrum of high-level magic in the air. The silence continues for several long seconds as he considers what may have occurred. Have they gone somewhere else? Was the spell Teleport? If one has the spells to spare, that would certainly be faster and easier than sneaking around a crowded castle. Essek frowns as he looks to Percy again. He doesn't want to depart just yet on the chance that he is wrong, but he risks a murmur, drawing closer to do so.
"I think they have left." He hesitates a moment before adding, "I am sorry. All of that was..." What are the words for it? Incriminating? Proof that he is not to be trusted?
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He turns his head back to Essek when he speaks. The hesitation in the wizard is noticeable. Percy knows that Essek is caught up in something. Why else would the Bright Queen marry off such a ranking member of her court? He's suspected there is more to this arrangement on the Dynasty's end, but he has refrained from asking Essek - he seems to have embraced his new life. The Empire's interest in him doesn't really surprise Percival, all told, but...
His thumb brushes lightly over Essek's wedding band. Vows are only as good as the people making them.
"Was politics that I'm not entirely ignorant to," he says quietly as he meets Essek's gaze. "Essek--"
He cuts himself off as light pours into the corridor from one of the ballroom doors opening. Percival freezes, suddenly wondering if this alcove is enough to conceal them from people that might walk by.
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Everything is interrupted by the beam of light slashing into the corridor's relative darkness as several figures emerge. Essek can hear them talking and laughing, but what they're saying doesn't matter. What matters is that there is no way they won't be seen as the group passes by. Essek immediately curses himself for not preparing Invisibility today. He can't cloak them, but being spotted here will look deeply suspicious.
Apart from snooping and conspiring, what else could they be doing? The answer is obvious.
"Trust me," he whisper urgently, which is probably the most absurd thing in the world. With Percival's hand still holding his, it's easy for Essek to return the grip and tug on his arm, urging him closer as he puts his back to the wall. Raising his other hand to his husband's face, he traces the sharp, handsome line of his jaw with the tips of his fingers before boldly covering the back of his neck, using it to draw him down as Essek leans up. There is no time to prepare himself. One moment he is looking into Percival's eyes and the next he is kissing him, full and wanting. This needs to be convincing, and a tentative, hesitant kiss won't cut it.
It's unexpected and sudden and possibly far too soon, but Essek feels his heart trip anyway with nervous excitement, feeling Percival's mouth against his and his body crowding close.
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