dragonsung | arranged marriage au.

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arranged marriage au.

It was not Ysayle's decision, but nor did she protest -- she'd be a fool to think that there was a better gesture of solidarity. Oh, she knew that Ishgard would have difficulty swallowing the fact they were marrying off their golden boy to Lady Iceheart, the heretic. But if they proved that they could forgive her (and oh, she wanted that forgiveness, even if she knows she does not deserve it) or at least let her walk amongst them a free and accepted woman, then the dragons would have another sign of the changed minds of the Ishgardians.

And she will do everything in her power to see peace between the two.

Which is why she is here, sitting across from the Lord Commander at a table that is startlingly large for the two of them in a building that seems needlessly empty. The dinner must have been his idea, for Vidofnir would never have thought to suggest it and Ysayle simply agreed to a wedding, not... whatever this is. Courtship, mayhap? But that would imply feelings, and she is certain that duty is their motivator here, not desire.

He is at least passable company, however, if the nature of the situation makes them both overly stiff and formal.

Ysayle cannot help but make it moreso. "I do not mean to intrude overly into your personal life," she says, mid bites of her dinner in a silence that had become increasingly more uncomfortable the longer it went on. "If you have other attachments you wish to pursue even after we are wed, I shall harbor no ill-will towards you or they." Unlike many Ishgardians who pretend that they are above such things. Was not Haurchefant Greystone one of the bastards that Ishgard had so readily dismissed? And Hilda, too, to say nothing of Aymeric himself. Ysayle has no plans to delude herself that such things were rare or uncommon, nor that she could expect fealty in a relationship with no romance.

If he could find joy apart from her she finds no reason to deny it.

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He makes it hard to argue against him; whether or not he intended to push for change in Ishgard he fits the role better than any she has yet to meet. He offers himself up as an ally in her reformed cause -- their's, considering how he has dedicated himself to it -- and so long has she been alone in championing it that his words visibly surprise her for a moment.

"I..." A falter, a crack in the ice that she wears. Ysayle composes herself once more with an incline of her head. "Thank you. I confess that I am not yet accustomed to the idea that I am no longer alone in this. The Warrior of Light was the first to extend their hand, and I had thought they would continue to be the only one."

That there are others, while part of what she wanted, still takes her aback. If she is to enter a partnership with him then, Ysayle muses, she had best learn what that means. Folding her hands in her lap, she meets his gaze -- icy, but only for the color of her eyes and her resolve rather than an indication of any ill-will towards him. "An ally is all that I require at the moment. And, perhaps, a guide to maneuvering in your society."

She does not care about the opinions of the Ishgardian nobility, but knows that a misstep may be more damaging to their cause than she might know.

She will learn, if she hasn't already, that while he can make himself unreadable, even under considerable duress, he rarely does so in private. His tells are just very subtle, instead. There's the slightest bit of softening around his eyes when she seems surprised at his words, perhaps a bit of knightly instinct under there, to protect her, even though her loneliness and hurt is in the past.

"Many things have changed very quickly," it's a politic understatement, but it isn't as though she doesn't know the full extent.of what has happened and why. "We could all use more allies." He considers her request about society and his lips actually curve into a very slight smile,

"I confess, I may not be the best guide in such matters. I know how to comport myself as a knight and as a Commander and could certainly teach you such things, if you were willing, but I have little and less knowledge of what becomes a young lady of Ishgardian society. I am sure, however, that a tutor could be provided for you."

"Or perhaps..." he adds, after a moment, and it is hard to pinpoint what exactly has changed about him, but there is something undeniably more boyish about him, something about the light in his eyes or the lilt of his tone, but she gets a rare glimpse into the more delicately subversive side of him, "you would rather go armed and armored at my side. There have been standing bets among my knights and the noble houses both for years about whether or not Lucia and I were to be married. You would hardly raise eyebrows as knight instead of lady."

Ah. That subversiveness appeals to her far more than the upright, by the letter politeness of their dinner. Ysayle can feel the corners of her mouth turning up slightly, matching the change in him. It is easy to forget that she is young beneath the ice, dedication, and faith, but for a moment she looks more her age as he looks young. "That I find myself more suited to," she agrees, the corners of her eyes still holding mirth even after her smile has faded.

"I have no excessive experience with a blade, but no small familiarity with magic. To say nothing of that which dwells in my soul." Saint Shiva. She still doesn't know what, who, it is that she invited into her; perhaps she never will. "Ishgard must needs change -- a knight of ice and dragons is better suited to the battles we face than a lady."

Is that insulting? Possibly, but Ysayle remembers the nobles of Ishgard turning their nose up at her village when they'd come seeking someplace safe. She shan't keep her opinion to herself should they ask. Or perhaps even if they do not.

If it is an insult, it is not one to him,

"I agree. Though I hope more of the victories to be won in the future are to be decided in the boardroom rather than the battlefield, I also think such hopes are likely idealistic at best. This new Ishgard is young and young countries often need more might than they do politics. I don't think it a coincidence, to find myself still the one a great number of people seem inclined to turn to." There's no self-aggrandizement in the statement, it is simply fact. "There is precedent for magic users to be in the ranks of The Knights Most Heavenly and the Heaven's Ward alike. Though you need not be an official member of the military, of course, most people should recognize such a thing, even the more... difficult members of the nobility."

"You would, of course, need to be both ready and willing to fight for such a thing to have the appropriate weight, however," he points out. He doesn't doubt she is, of course, but he does want to make sure that she understands all the same. It is unlikely that it will be necessary, but Aymeric is aware that there is still unrest and instability in the country. Assassination isn't likely, given the power vacuum it would create, but it is possible.

Would you be willing to fight for Ishgard and would you be willing to fight to protect me are two different matters, he's well aware. If she's by his side and armed, it is clear which of the two people will be expecting.

Aymeric sells himself far too short. He may be the military commander, but were he not a good man, then people would not look to him so readily, so eagerly. They do not know each other well, that much is true, but she knows that those she admires -- the Warrior of Light most of all -- look to him as a friend.

That he is willing to do this all in the name of peace speaks greatly of his character. That he does not consider his character overmuch speaks even louder.

"There is no measure of good faith large enough for anyone to look kindly upon my joining your military." And, more importantly, she would rather not look upon the faces of those whom she has faced in combat. Ysayle carries every life lost in the name of her cause with her, and she could not, in good consciousness, seek to insert herself amongst ranks which she has played a roll in thinning.

The implication settles over her shoulders, making her pause. They have been honest with each other so far; se sees no reason to not be so now. But the words are careful, pointed. She does not want him to misjudge her intent, nor doubt her word. "Once I had thought I would usher in an age of peace. Now I know that to be a foolish notion of a misguided girl. My hope for Ishgard rests in you, Ser Aymeric, and t'would likely die with you. You have my word that I will not let that come to pass."

He cannot deny that she speaks the truth regarding the likelihood that she would be well-liked in the military but he actually thinks here that perhaps she underestimates his sway. If he said that she was enlisting and had his approval, he has little doubt that the Knights Most Heavenly would take her in. That she would then face discrimination at best and outright hatred at worst is inevitable but then, it isn't as though he was immediately and warmly accepted either.

It's the nobles who are the problem, he thinks, those who have lost sons and daughters in the war effort in recent years rather than a slow descent of misery like in the Brume. She's proven herself enough to the common man, he thinks, for her to have little problem there, but all of that accounts for nothing if those with the power and influence despise her. Still, while he doesn't think the military impossible for her, he cannot deny he would rather have her as a free agent.

"My hope is that such hopes prove founded and such resolve proves itself unnecessary, both," it's polite, humble, but he decides after a moment to dare more. She will be his wife, after all, and while such a thing is a purely political matter, he does wish to show her more of who he is when he is not the Lord Commander.

"I... do not think it is a foolish notion. Is it not what you are doing now? What we are doing? There is yet much and more to be done before I would call what we have peace, and yet, if we are not among it's stewards, then who else would you name?" Warmer, but still too formal. It is difficult, to try to set it aside. He tries again,

"To be a force of change in Ishgard is not a burden I ever thought I would share. But it is one I would gladly have rest in more than I."

Ysayle can't quite pinpoint the moment that something shifts in the conversation; perhaps she had ushered it in with her direct honesty, or perhaps the idea of being no longer alone in the cold has wormed its way into her chest and made a nest there. The strange, warm feeling in her chest is not one of love -- she knows that much -- but of relief and acceptance.

It is enough, Ysayle thinks. Enough to see this through, enough to stand by his side and see this future in together. Her own guilt, her own worries -- they still eat at her; she knows that her atonement is not completely, nor may it ever be.

But he does not seem to care.

It takes some time for her to reply -- not out of a lack of want, but simply because she cannot think of what to say. "It seems you will not be dissuaded no matter how many times I tell you that I am undeserving. Ishgard makes for stubborn men to test my resolve," said with something akin to humor, a lightness in her eyes that fades only when she closes them in contemplation. When she opens them once more to meet his, they are bright and sharp. "Together, then. For Ishgard. For peace."

And perhaps in doing so, they may find some measure of it for themselves.

Not one to linger overmuch on emotions she has no real skill with, she continues. "I do have one thing to ask of you. Crystals -- placed wherever you suspect an attack is most likely to come." Ysayle knows what she is asking for, knows that he is well within his rights to deny it, but she will not have what she knows is her best strength out of reach completely.

"It is not, nor has it ever been, for us to decide whether we get what we deserve. We can but do what we can with what little we are given, both in time and gifts." From someone else, the words might seem overly formal, particularly given the conversation they had been having, but he just seems earnest about it, and it serves as an unintentional reminder that, for all that Aymeric was part of toppling the theocracy, it was never his faith in Halone that was challenged, merely his faith in men.

It is, perhaps, a bit of a shock to find him still so thoughtlessly devout, but then, isn't that really what had landed him in the Vault in the first place-- a misguided belief that the Archbishop surely still had the same faith he did?

"Together," he nods, and it is decisive but there's also a hint of a smile curling his lips. He seems content enough to just let the silence sit, but he doesn't protest when she fills it, though he does raise his brows slightly at the request,

"Given what we know about the primals... are you sure that is wise?" he says that, but he's very clearly already running through what would need to happen in his head, "It will be very difficult to convince the others that it is necessary, but to do it in secret is political suicide."

It will not be a permanent grief -- they are both willing to put aside their personal wants for their goals, after all -- but for a moment Ysayle mourns for Aymeric, that life would force him into this marriage with her rather than one out of love. It is clear his belief is heartfelt, that his humbleness is not done out of necessity but from his very character, that denying a good man of such a large joy seems cruel indeed. But this is Ishgard, not the village she grew up in, and it is doubtful that he would have had that right to begin with.

That she thinks so much of him after so little time in his company is shocking, and something Ysayle intends to take to her grave. Far be it for her to be known as someone easily won over by good intentions and similar ideals.

"No," she admits, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning back in her chair. She is not defensive, but rather contemplating the facts of the matter. "Yet I summoned her unto me in order to forge the way ahead, towards peace. I would see my folly have a chance to be used for that purpose, should dire need arise." A small, hesitant moment before she meets Aymeric's eyes again. "Every time I call upon her my own life shortens. But know that I will not hesitate if doing so will protect our dream."

"It would need be delicately done. If there are crystals enough for your purpose, might anyone then use them to summon a primal? Is there even the slightest chance they might summon one on accident, were a situation dire enough?" he frowns slightly, but he's not disagreeing with her desire or dismissing it, merely working over the risks, how best to achieve it if they believe they should in spite of them.

"Ishgard is a nation of faith and men ever fall back on their faith in times of crisis. I would not become the very problem we wish, in part, to solve," he says it firmly, but he shakes his head a moment later, "Then, too, I would be a poor commander indeed to ignore a weapon of such magnitude, were it needed to prevent a greater catastrophe," the look he gives her is a bit wry, but it's clear he's neither joking nor patronizing her when he says, "I will simply have to work harder to make sure it is not a decision you ever need make."

His mention of faith and the problems it might cause makes her pause, considering. "T'would depend, I should think. Your--" No, that's not right, and Ysayle corrects herself. "The Archbishop and the Heaven's Ward needed not the crystals to turn themselves into primals at will. But the belief they used was the result of centuries, based on lies, and directed with a purpose. Belief simply will not conjure a primal if there is no one to shape it, give it form, direct the worship."

But she will not deny that there is some risk to it, to say nothing of his proclamation that he will see to it that she has no need of calling upon Shiva. That earns him a startled huff of laughter, soft and almost more of a puff of air. How noble of him, but it is in his delivery, the sincerity of which he delivers it that keeps her from dismissing it as an unnecessary statement of protection. Or from dismissing him outright.

"I fear that you could work yourself down to the bone and still not prevent the possibility of the worst coming to pass." There... is some concern there, genuine enough to take even Ysayle by surprise, though she continues on, smoothly. "The crystals need not be permanent, however. There are those we consider friends who are well acquainted with what signals the summoning of a primal, and at the first of those, they could be removed. And they need not stay after the first few throws of change have passed."

"For better or worse, Ishgard's children have always looked to something to believe in. I see no reason to suspect that has suddenly changed. With the void left by my father," he doesn't change his tone, but it's clear that it's a little pointed, to say what she shies from, "there are plenty of those looking to fill it," he takes a sip of his wine, considers, "In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if my new political appointment comes as a bid to keep me from trying to take that mantle," he shakes his head, "Which just shows how little anyone seems to know about myself or my motivations, really. Perhaps once, I might have been convinced to do something of the sort for the sake of Ishgard, at the request of the Archbishop, but it would have been a duty, a burden I would have gladly shouldered, but a burden nonetheless."

"T'would be an easy space for someone to attempt to fill, all the more so with Ascian backing, though I confess I know little and less about precisely how they fit into all of this. I shall leave that to those more capable than I." He trails off, realizes that they've once again descended into talking about politics and logistics almost exclusively, and he tries to at least bring them to a more pleasant version of the topics,

"But while it will all be difficult, I doubt not that the effort will be well worth it. If nothing else, to have proof of Saint Shiva blessing this new direction for Ishgard will appeal to some of the populace, at least." It's surprisingly shrewd, since it's highly likely that the Warrior of Light has given him a report about the true nature of Ysayle's gifts.

They are political creatures, as much as Aymeric seems to wish otherwise. Not helping his cause is Ysayle's struggle at allowing herself to be known as a person, not just a cause. She has dedicated all of herself to her goals, defined herself by them, and rebuilt herself using them. What remains of Ysayle Dangoulain is buried beneath ice and snow, has been since she was nineteen.

But this is a partnership, and while Ysayle does not feel a thaw forthcoming, she can try. As dedicated as he is to keeping her from misery, Aymeric should be met with something in return in thanks. Which means an attempt at moving away from politics towards things that are lighter in topic. Though that thought does not last long at the subject he turns to.

That there should be people glad to hear of Saint Shiva startles her, and her eyes go wide as she looks at him for a long second before her head falls, shaking to dismiss his point.

"A false image of her, created by the dreams of a lonely, desperate woman." She explains, gaze focused on the hands in her lap before she moves to take a sip of the -- admittedly excellent -- wine. "Tis not a thing to be proud of, Ser Aymeric, or celebrated."

Edited 2020-08-15 17:26 (UTC)

"People oft see the version of us they wish to and there is nothing that we can do to stop them," he doesn't sound bitter in the slightest, but there's a weight to the words that suggest it's not merely some repeated platitude. "For the people who are glad to see peace, a symbol of the link between our people will be welcome, whether false or true in truth."

He considers the rest of her words for another moment, clear that he's not entirely finished.

"I rather think it is," he says, after the pause, to her summoning Shiva as a thing to be celebrated, "I doubt there are many others who might agree with me, but you did what you did in the fullness of your beliefs. You were willing to sacrifice everything for a cause you believed in and you are still ready to use such a power to secure the peace you longed for, even at great cost to yourself. Even when we were on opposite sides of this war, your commitment and fervor were never in doubt. Such things are precisely what are needed to save this nation and preserve the peace."

"There are things you have done to Ishgard and her people that are not to be celebrated," he adds, a bit more darkly, but he is an honest man, for all that he can play the political game, "Take what victories you can."

If it were anyone but Aymeric, she would have dismissed it, unless it came from the Warrior of Light themselves. But the heaviness with which he speaks makes it near impossible to argue. Ysayle is not the kind of woman to simply sit back and accept his words, however, something he no doubt expects.

"It becomes clear now why so many people turn to you in order to uphold the causes and beliefs they hold dear." Not so much flattery as it is a simple statement of the truth that she sees. He may not have been her ally at the beginning, but his willingness to accept the truth and change while never quite becoming a reviled character for all of Ishgard is something she, perhaps, envies a little. Some of the ice melts for a moment as she catches his eyes, and while there is no smile on her face there is a spark in her eyes. "We may disagree on the matter of your praise, or the worthiness of it, but... it is noted, and not unappreciated."

Her eyes close, head bowed in acknowledgment of the truth that he speaks. "I did not wish for bloodshed. Whatever you may think of me, of what I have done, know that." There is blood on her hands, she will not deny it.

"Few revolutionaries do. But there was nary a revolution that happened without it. Whether it was what you wished for or not, you knew the dragons did not come initially to sue for peace when they flung themselves at our walls," he shakes his head, "Don't misunderstand me, my hands are no cleaner than yours-- I was never naive enough to think the truth would only set people free and not confuse and terrify some. But such a sentiment, that bloodshed was never your intention, might be one best kept away from dinner tables that contain more than just you and I. The youngest Hallinarte in particular is not likely to believe you on such matters, since I hear he almost went off Witchdrop due to one of your men. I think he more upset about his family's good name and his own piety being called into question than nearly dying."

He says it lightly, perhaps, as close to nobleman's gossip as he ever gets, but the warning inherent is not quite so light as that. She will have to face down Francel, after all, and while for many people her involvement in the war is impersonal, there are a scant few who's lives she has directly ruined, or nearly so.

"Better to let men like him think you have had a change of heart, rather than that you would have preferred they not have to die at all."

A change of heart? For a moment Ysayle's expression darkens -- her eyes narrowing. It is not her who has had a change of heart, but... well, it doesn't matter now. Ysayle swallows her ire, although the darkness in her eyes doesn't abate for the moment.

"Then I shall remain silent on the matter entirely, until there is a time for me to confess." That, at least, she agrees to do without complaint. She won't shy away from facing those she has wronged, accepts it as both punishment and a chance to... move on, move forward. For a better Isghard. A frown, then, and Ysayle fixates on a point past Aymeric's shoulder for a long second before catching his eyes again.

He has tried, with her, and so she can give him something of herself. Something that may help him understand her more, help them navigate the tricky politics of their future together.

"Did you know that Ishgard turned my village away? After the Calamity we came to its gates seeking refuge. And we were denied." As were many others. Ysayle is not attempting to make her case a special one, simply putting a story to her name, heard from her and not any reports he may have read. "It was only after that all but myself perished in an avalanche, and I would have suffered the same fate if not for Hresvelgr himself."

A tap of a finger against the wood of the table in pointed thought, though there is no point she is trying to draw his attention to beyond that of understanding. "You have fought tooth and nail for the seat that you sit upon, I will not deny that. But you speak to me of the concern of nobles as if I should care for their reputations, of their plight, when none have cared overmuch for those of me and mine. We swear to strive for change, aye, but that change should not come at the cost of dignity, of pride, for those who have always stood at the bottom."

She will not beg and grovel for the approval of nobles, appeal to them for forgiveness when it is their society, their families and their reputation that is built on lies, on stasis and an intolerance for those considered 'lesser'. As much as she must prove herself to them, so must they to her. Better that he know that now than later.

"I did not know but it does not surprise me." He lets her talk, otherwise, lets her finish, and then lets the silence sit for a long moment while he figures out the best way to address the thing lying on the table between them.

"I expect for you to be able to make them believe you do, at least," he says, finally, "I have always needed them. You now need them. And they will not only not rally to your banners but actively desert mine if you do not. We must bridge the gap and if we cannot do that by making either side understand the plight of the other, we must stand balanced in the middle."

"You took your power, by virtue of who you were and what you believed in. I was elected to mine. I hold yours to be the truer power, make no mistake, but if I am immediately unelected because my wife poses an imminent threat to the nobility, there will be more bloodshed," it's said very matter-of-factly, though it's far more open than he would normally be with most anyone. It's becoming a bit more clear, throughout dinner, how he's managed to climb so high.

He's a shrewd man, and as much of a political tactician as he is one on the battlefield. That he doesn't dismiss her out of hand is a point in his measure, as is his honesty and openness. Ysayle inclines her head slightly in recognition of his points as she considers her words.

( His wife, and she never thought to be wed to anyone -- even before her misguided crusade. )

"For whatever worth you place upon my words," does he trust her? Does she trust him? Ysayle is quickly coming to respect Aymeric, his careful maneuvering and desire for change, but trust is earned. "I swear that I will not work to undermine Ishgard's future, this peace that we have gained. I know that you are its best hope -- do not try to pretend otherwise -- and I will not seek to undermine you or threaten your authority. Overtly and otherwise."

She will hold her tongue when it is required, though she knows herself well enough that she will taste blood in her mouth every time.

"'Tis a good thing I am already a villain to them. Even the slightest act of concession will be more than they expect."

"I trust your words wholly and in their entirety," he says it so easily, far more so than she might have been expecting, particularly since she herself is still figuring out where her trust in him lies. "What I have less faith in is your understanding of how Ishgard works and what, precisely, will be necessary for you to be able to keep your word," it's as harsh as the earlier words are kind, but it's honest, and he tempers it a moment later with a small, slightly warmer smile, though it's still a bit forced,

"But there's time enough for that later. I could not teach a lifetime of Ishgardian politics in a single night if I even had the stomach to try. This endeavor is as fraught with potential peril as any other, but I have faith in both of us-- not to weather it without any mistakes, but to be able to weather the mistakes as well as the triumphs."

"Tell me," he continues, after another sip of his wine, "is there anything you wish for in more practical terms? You'll have your own room, of course, but do you have other preferences? Books? A particular type of tea?" this time the smile is smaller, but it's probably genuine, "I spend so little time at home, I have always endeavored to make it a place of refuge when I do. I would gladly do the same for you."

How-- how can he say such things with ease and certainty? Ysayle knows the strength of conviction, of what it means to speak with the full belief of your cause and your actions. She knows where it comes from, but by the same turn, knows what it feels like to have that all ripped away, out from under you, and to flounder.

A small nod of her head, a hint of a smile, as she finally relents and lets him move the conversation away from politics. They will have time enough for that later.

"I--" A pause, as she looks at her hands. "Birds." Her eyes flick up to his, and there is something there in her gaze. Her voice seems to soften, to let her hard edges melt slightly. "When I was younger, I enjoyed falconry. It... has been many years since I tried my hand at it, but given the chance to begin again--" Well, she won't turn it down.

It is clear the request charms him, a kind of delighted surprise settling over him for a moment before he turns his mind to the more practical considerations of her request. House Borel has never been ostentatiously wealthy, but Aymeric also rarely spends money on anything aside from necessities and small, creature comforts. It is less a matter of can he grant that request and more how.

"You may well be relegated to the attic for such a thing, to give them the space needed. But perhaps the birds would prefer that. I don't think it would be terribly difficult to repurpose the space. I should think you'll likely find poor sport hunting in Foundation itself, but it is but a short flight to places where I daresay you will likely have better luck," it's a subtle joke, given the two most likely destinations from Ishgard by air.

"I must admit, though, I know little and less about falconry beyond the barest basics. I've no idea where one procures such things. You shall have to instruct me." He's not discounting her ability to do so herself, of course, but there's a willingness there, to learn, for no other reason than it interests her.

She does not understand why such a simple thing can bring out such a response in him, but at the same time Ysayle finds herself grateful for it all the same. He does not brush it off as self indulgent, or as meaningless.

"I have made do with less, and you have offered more than I expected. It does not go unappreciated," that he would be so willing to help in what way he can. The shock of his desire to learn is clear on her face -- wide eyes, surprise obvious, and pleasure too.

Setting aside her glass for now, she continues. "Finding a leatherworker will do for now. They will likely be easier found outside of the city -- Tailfeather, perhaps." That he wants to learn is a surprise in and of itself, but she does not discourage him. "If you seek to capture a bird from the wild we will need traps, or if you would prefer to purchase one bred for the sport they are no less skilled than their wild brethren. Provided we do not purchase one in Ishgard itself."

Ysayle has her doubts on the capableness of those.

"It may be that Tailfeather is the best place for gear and bird alike. I imagine they have some skill at such things, and some need. I confess, it's more a sport I would see the Gridanians interested in, though, than any of our current outposts," the current is important there. He's well aware that there used to be a great many more small settlements who would have practiced such things.

Actually, though...

"Perhaps I will flex some of our newfound diplomatic powers," he says, musing over what would be required. "I don't know how the Seedseer, herself, feels about such things, but I imagine that there's something to be said for introducing Gridanian falconry skills to Ishgard. Perhaps she would send a tutor. If such a thing would interest you, of course."

Everything is political with him, but politics and personal enjoyment aren't opposites.

Back when things were not covered in ice and snow. Ysayle knows that other parts of Eorzea have suffered after the Calamity, but Ishgard's situation has always struck her as unique. All at once things changed, but there was rebuilding to be done, time to recover. Ishgard is simply going to be cloaked in eternal winter until the end. "Those who remember will no doubt be willing to engage with it once more," Ysayle muses, but at the mention of getting someone from Gridania brightens her eyes.

"I-- yes. It would, immensely." Ysayle feels she can admit to that, at least. The ice in her eyes retreats for a moment, softening when she looks at him. "I see now why you have the position you do, Lord Commander. I do not mean it as an insult, only complementary. You are quite skilled at this."

He gives her a thin smile. It's genuine enough, but there is both much that he says in the not-saying and much that it says that he trusts her with that much.

"It has been a talent and a necessity both. It pleases me to be able to use it for something that is likely to be agreeable to everyone, for once," his eyes drop and there is something both genuine and practiced about the way it makes him look more demure, like he might deign to blush if he were someone else. It's as though the expression were practiced so thoroughly that it became a natural expression. "And, perhaps, to please someone of whom I think highly."

It's a bit more... guarded of a bit of flirting than some of his earlier, more honest but less flattering attempts had been. But this, too, is somewhat calculated, a small show that he can play the game when he needs to, perhaps, or perhaps some kind of leading by example. Even so, there is nothing about it that seems disingenuous.

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arranged marriage au.

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at this point i'm just winging it please correct me if i've gotten something wrong

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