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Verstael has always had options and, in some ways, he’s chosen the roughest road imaginable for himself. It promises the grandest rewards, that’s true, but he’s gone all in with Ardyn and if the angry mob ever comes with their pitchforks to burn the witch he’ll be right there on the pyre too. It’s too late to back out. He’ll either be one of the greatest men in all of Niff history or he’ll be one of the worst. That’s all there is to it.
Conquering Eos is a while off yet. They still have to beg, borrow and steal to secure their power at court. Ardyn’s climbing the ladder through any means necessary and Verstael is secreting away a million backup plans and assets to try and prepare them for any eventuality but every month these past three years has brought them that little bit closer to victory.
Verstael is a child of this modern century. He’s thought about his red thread plenty. He used to daydream about it when he was a lonely child being shuffled back and forth between estates and warring parents. But, honestly? In his accelerated college courses he started to think about it less and less, what with limited time, and then he found the Adagium conspiracy and then….
And then he found Ardyn.
Verstael knows he’s jaded, that’s part of the problem, but there’s more too it than that. He and Ardyn don’t match. Verstael already knows that. Ardyn’s only ever spoken about it once, one very dark snowy night in a tent up north, but Verstael knows the Oracle whom Ardyn’s thread was attached to is long dead and no one, no force on this green earth, will ever exactly replace her. But, still, every day they put one foot in front of the other together.
They’re a team now, like it or not, and as hopeless as it perhaps is Verstael can’t fight the fact that he’s never been happier. He’s never felt more invigorated. This quest for glory and vengeance is his whole world. He can’t match Ardyn’s hatred for the Lucius Caelums but he can match his passion in spades and every day he comes at it stronger than ever. Ardyn broods, Ardyn hesitates, and Verstael compels them forward.
Verstael…
He doesn’t want to find his soulmate. He knows that’s not fair on them, this imaginary third person, but it’s true. Maybe they’d be the love of his life, maybe he’s making a terrible mistake, maybe he’ll regret it on his deathbed but the only thing Verstael genuinely wants right now is to spend the next however many years he gets rewriting the world with his fucking idiot Starscourge.
That’s why Verstael very pointedly ignores the Accordan official who comes to help organize the Nifleheim oversight of the islands. He’s some man, unexceptional at first glance, but Verstael can’t ignore the tug on his ring finger or the way his entire stomach sinks through the floor.
His name is Victor Howl. He’s from a good, politically savvy, family who have held positions of power in Accordo for centuries. He’s smart. Verstael’s investigation reveals he has two degrees and he speaks at least two languages. Verstael has him beat on both counts but that’s not the point. He could be a lot of things. He could make Verstael feel a lot of things. But Verstael doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want any of it.
So Verstael pulls a few strings and ensures that across the next six months they’re never exactly in the same room.
He doesn’t tell Ardyn. He can’t bare what he might hear. He’s not sure what would be worse: if Ardyn didn’t care or if he did. Both seem set to break Verstael’s heart so he keeps the information suppressed as long as humanly possible. He doesn’t want to admit he’s attached like that. He knows Ardyn is loyal to him, he knows Ardyn is fond of him, but he’s no Oracle and he’s not looking to compete outright. He just wants the life he can have, stolen though it might be.
Ardyn is running through a scheme with him in his office sometime deep in the cold pits of October. They have the scotch out and they’re plotting methodically. They’re not playing at this. This is serious. They’re certainly not in any kind of compromising position but still, all the same, Verstael feels like he’s been caught doing something when Victor Howl comes busting through the door.
“Can we help you?” Ardyn tilts his head, slouched in an armchair and already half amused by the breathless desperation leeching off the Accordan.
“Lord Besithia,” Howl begins in a surge, trying to cross the divide. “I have to talk to you.”
Verstael glances, trapped, between Ardyn and the official; his official soulmate.
“Later, Mister Howl.” Verstael replies coolly.
“I have sent multiple requests for a meeting to your secretary. I have been ignored.” Howl flusters. “I am sick of waiting. This is important, you know this is important. I can’t be crazy. Surely you—”
“I’m in the middle of something,” Verstael diverts again, voice painstakingly level. “I am not having this conversation in my office. Yes, Mister Howl, I’m sure I understand what you’re talking about but I’m not doing this right now.”
Ardyn has lowered his scotch. His clever eyes are darting back and forth between them subtly. He loves a good spot of drama that’s for sure.
“When then?” Howl demands. “It doesn’t take a genius level IQ to know you’re avoiding me and our connection.”
Ardyn’s eyebrow raises slightly and now both men are looking at Verstael like he’s supposed to have some answers.
Fuck.
Verstael feels a very violent surge of anxiety and embarrassment flicker into acidic anger in an instant. It’s like a chemical reaction. One second he’s mortified and then the next he’s pissed.
“What connection?” Verstael spits. “There is no connection. I don’t know you.”
“But—” Howl holds up his hand and Verstael can see the thread even if Ardyn can’t but he’s sure Ardyn’s imagining it just fine.
“I know,” Verstael snaps. “I’m not an idiot. Why do you imagine that makes any difference?”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Howl demands.
“I—Ugh,” Verstael stands up from his desk and rounds the table to grab Howl’s hand and crush it in-between his fingers. “I know. Listen to me; I know. But I’m telling you it doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t understand,” the Accordan murmurs.
“I’m not interested,” Verstael answers, “I’m very sorry but I’m not. I—Yes, I know, if you’ll let me finish?”
Howl closes his mouth again.
“No one hurt me, no one has broken my heart, you can’t rescue me.” Verstael explains. “I’m just… I’m already happy. I’m genuinely very happy. Whatever way you might be able to improve on that I’m not interested. I’m sorry this had to be so explosive but I’m saying no.”
Howl looks bamboozled.
“You can’t be serious,” he laughs weakly, “some people never even find their soulmate and you’re telling me you’d rather take the gamble with someone else?”
Verstael forces his hand down, away, and chews on it for a moment.
“Yes,” he puffs his chin up stubbornly. “That is what I am telling you.”
“And what about my happiness? What about my future?”
“Well, I am sorry,” Verstael repeats, “but you’ll have to muddle on and find your own way like the rest of us.”
“You…” Howl slackens, mystified. “You’re sure…?”
Verstael nods.
He feels like an idiot, but he means it.
“Well…” Howl runs his fingers through his own perfectly styled hair weakly. “I… I hope this someone else is proud of themselves.”
Verstael shrugs, he doesn’t expect anything. He doesn’t need anything more than he already has. He’s happy enough. He can’t explain that to this stranger though. It would only confuse him further. The point remains regardless.
Without another word the Accordan stumbles out slamming the door behind himself a little too hard.
Verstael winces.
Sighing, feeling sick, he runs a hand over his face.
He doesn’t want to look at Ardyn right now.
He wouldn’t take any of it back, not a word, but he doesn’t want reason to doubt his decision right now. He just—
Verstael yelps.
Ardyn forces him back against the opposing wall with an inhuman speed.
Verstael expects a myriad of things, a flash of worry runs through him; will Ardyn be offended? He can’t have his soulmate. He lost his lifetime with her. Is he angry Verstael would so brazenly shun his own eternal happiness in front of him?
But Ardyn doesn’t yell at him.
Ardyn certainly doesn’t hurt him.
Ardyn crushes their lips together like a typhoon rips the roof off a house.
Verstael’s hands scramble for purchase in a blind panic. He lets it happen. Let’s Ardyn’s fingers curl in his hair and his arm hook around his waist. He forgets how to breathe and just lets Ardyn consume him with a world bending kiss.
Ardyn kisses him so long and so hard Verstael is sure his lips are going to crack. He can barely get a word in edgewise. He grips at Ardyn’s shoulders, fumbling stupidly, and just tries not to drown.
Ardyn presses their foreheads together, the pair of them panting, Verstael heaving with lost air. Ardyn kisses his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose…
Verstael starts to melt.
Ardyn doesn’t explain himself, not immediately, but Verstael can feel what he wants to say.
“You’re mad,” Ardyn laughs bitterly into his skin. “Who in their right mind would choose this?”
“This idiot, I guess,” Verstael snorts weakly.
Ardyn kisses him impossibly harder and Verstael can feel his desperation and his gratitude and his delight in every millimeter of skin.
“I intend to make that decision worthwhile,” Ardyn murmurs, bundling him up in his arms.
“It already is,” Verstael shrugs dumbly, slumping into him.