Long Games and Long Prices

AN: A short story about Ren from some time before she met the party. Hadn't originally planned on making exes a part of her backstory but ran with the joke and the result was 2.5k words of Ren being an edgy dick very vaguely inspired by CaitVi dynamics because I've been on the Arcane brainrot.
 
CW: Emotional manipulation, drug use, implied/fade-to-black sexual content
 
*********************
 
Day 1
 
Ren lurked beneath a store’s awning, watching Isobel have tea again.
 
She’d been shadowing Isobel for weeks now, preparing for this day. She’d followed her every time she left her grand mansion on the High North side, took note of the stores she frequented, the people she visited, the pink tulips she favored at the flower shops. And every day at midafternoon, like clockwork, Isobel would walk down Market Street and have tea. Alone.
 
Ren pulled out her pocket mirror and checked her hair one last time. It was dark and long and the type of stylishly tousled that could only be achieved with several hours of patience and an ungodly amount of product. She’d looked carefully at the people Isobel talked to, made note of who made her smile a little wider and laugh a little harder. Tall, dark, handsome, and flirty seemed to be the common theme. Not very original, but Ren had obligingly dyed her hair, stuffed insoles into her boots, and practiced a cocky wink in the mirror until it felt like second nature.
 
Ren observed as Isobel stood up and thanked the hostess, left her customary tip, and prepared to leave. Ren quickly ducked out of her shadowy corner, tugged on her cravat to loosen it a little, and made her way across the street towards the tea shop. As she crossed, Ren pulled from her coat pocket a necklace that she had purchased just last week. It was finely worked silver from which dangled a sapphire pendant of excellent cut and clarity. Simple but expensive. Elegant without being ostentatious. The sort of piece Isobel often wore and admired.
 
Ren walked quickly, carefully watching Isobel out of the corner of her eye. This had to be timed perfectly. Finally, Isobel stepped out of the tea shop, one hand rising to her brow to shield her eyes from the glare of the setting sun.
 
Ren ran straight into her. Gave her ankles a discreet nudge, just to be on the safe side.
 
Isobel let out a little shriek and began to fall. Ren smiled and caught her.
 
One hand on her shoulder, the other around the middle of her back - no lower. Let her dip down, just a little. Lean over her, but not too close. Make sure the sun is behind me so the light is flattering. There we go.
 
“My deepest apologies, my lady,” said Ren. She lingered just for a moment over Isobel before gently bringing them back upright. Ren released Isobel’s waist to lightly clasp at her hand, and took a step back before bowing deeply over it, lips just brushing the gloved surface. “I hope I have not caused you any great harm. I was unforgivably careless.”
 
Head still bowed, Ren glanced up at Isobel. She looked flushed and her eyes were a little wide. Ren released her hand and stood upright.
 
“Ren Darzon at your service,” she said as she dipped down again into a pointlessly complicated bow. Ren threw in her practiced wink for good measure.
 
This is ridiculous. Who the fuck actually falls for this crap?
 
“I beg you allow me to make up for my uncouth display of - Oh! My necklace!”
 
Ren made a show of frantically patting down her pockets, before turning to examine the ground.
 
“Forgive me my lady,” she said, weaving distress into her voice. Now that Isobel was paying closer attention, Ren let the faintest hint of a street twang mingle with her persona’s posh accent. Just enough to be roguish, not so much she’d frighten the delicate sensibilities of society’s upper echelon. “I was headed to the jeweler's to return a necklace, and must have dropped it amidst our entanglement. Please, give me a moment. It was of the utmost importance.”
 
“Oh dear,” Isobel spoke for the first time. Her accent was the perfect cut-glass enunciation of those bred and raised on money and privilege. “Please, allow me to assist you. It must be found before some street hooligan snatches it up.”
 
“I would appreciate that greatly, my lady.” said Ren. “I’ll check beneath this stoop. Perhaps you might see if it did not fall to the floor concealed beneath your garb?” She gestured to Isobel’s long and full dress that trailed on the ground.
 
Isobel daintily lifted her skirts and examined the floor. “I don’t see it.”
 
That’s because you’re stepping on it, you idiot.
 
“Perhaps behind you?” suggested Ren.
 
Isobel turned to look, stepping to the side and revealing a flash of silver.
 
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Here it is. It seems to have been caught beneath my boot.”
 
She stooped down to pick it up, pausing to examine the craftsmanship.
 
“It’s exquisite,” she said softly. “Sapphires were always my favorite.”
 
I know.
 
“You said you were returning it? Was it a gift?” she asked.
 
“It was meant to be,” Ren replied, “but I’m afraid it was rejected. I’ve held onto it for far too long, nursing false hopes. But I’ve come to realize it was never meant to be, so It’s time to let go.”
 
Isobel’s face softened as she listened to Ren.
 
“Forgive me for prying.” she said, handing back the necklace. As Ren cupped her palm to take it she let the tips of her fingers brush lightly against the exposed skin of Isobel’s wrist. “I understand your pain. I’ve recently experienced rejection myself. My partner left me and I too held on to false hope for many months before coming to terms with it.”
 
I know.
 
“I’m sorry to hear that, my lady.” Ren offered a small, wry, smile. “Although I must confess, I’m relieved you find the necklace appealing. I was beginning to wonder if the true reason behind my rejected suit was due to my poor taste in jewelry.”
 
“How absurd!” Isobel laughed. “The necklace is far beyond suitable. It’s gorgeous. Any person should feel fortunate to receive such a gift.”
 
Ren looked down at the necklace which lay coiled in the palm of her hand. She delicately lifted it, and held it out toward Isobel.
 
“Then please,” she said softly, “will you accept it? My apology for causing you distress.”
 
Isobel shook her head but she was smiling now, a genuine smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
 
“I couldn’t possibly,” she said. “It wouldn’t be proper, we’ve only just met.”
 
“How about dinner instead?”
 
“Dinner would be perfect.”
 
Ren smiled and held out an arm, which Isobel took. Ren made a show of pocketing the necklace with a wink and a little flourish.
 
“For later. Once we’ve gotten to know each other better.” She was rewarded with a faint blush that dusted Isobel’s cheeks and nose.
 
“Lead the way, Lady -- my apologies. Manners seem to have escaped me entirely today. What with all the excitement I’ve completely forgotten to ask your name.”
 
Lady Isobel Gianora L'onore Corbett van der Bellen. Human, 34 years old. Divorced 5 months ago and her former spouse left the city. Heiress to her late mother’s small but extremely profitable poppy plantations which produce high grade opium. No immediate family, few friends, few expenses, no notable vices. Lonely.
 
“The error is entirely my own. I’m Isobel van der Bellen.”
 
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady van der Bellen. Please,” Ren gestured with her free arm, “Lead the way.”

 
Day 10
 
“Oh! I adore pink tulips! How did you know?”
 
Ren grinned from where she stood on Isobel’s doorstep, hat in one hand and a proffered bouquet of pink long-stemmed tulips in the other.
 
I stalked you. Duh.
 
“Well,” she said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “this is of the utmost secrecy, but I trust you, Lady Isobel. I have a friend who tells fortunes which are always true. He is the most highly sought-after medium this side of the sea. And he told me the love of my life would favor pink tulips above all other flowers.”
 
Isobel crossed her arms and arched a perfectly groomed brow. “Really? And what else did this supposed medium happen to tell you?”
 
Ren grinned sheepishly. “That you should check the card.”
 
Isobel plucked the card from the bouquet, and turned it over.
 
“Is ten days long enough?” she read.
 
She glanced up, eyebrows raised in surprise, and saw Ren dangling the silver and sapphire necklace from her fingertips.
 
“He also said that Ren Darzon is a rogue and a liar, and what really happened is that she went to the flower shop on Market Street and asked if anyone knew what Lady Isobel’s favorite blossoms were.” Ren smiled.” Forgive me, my lady, but a girl has to have some tricks up her sleeve. Will you accept this now?”
 
Isobel burst out laughing, took the necklace, and invited Ren in.

 
Day 95
 
“I think I’m in love with you.”
 
Ren looked back from the window, where she sat smoking from one of Isobel’s beautifully carved ivory pipes. Isobel was lying in bed watching her, her own pipe still smouldering softly on the bedside table. The faint moonlight cast the room in shadow but Ren could see the glassiness of Isobel’s eyes, and the sluggish way they followed the movement of Ren’s hand as she raised the pipe to her lips.
 
About time.
 
Ren took a deep drag. She didn’t normally indulge while on the job. Opium left her moody and unpredictable, a pointless risk while running this sort of game. But Isobel had insisted and so Ren had relented; poppy was a fashionable pastime at the moment amongst the upper classes, and refusing wouldn’t fit the sort of person Isobel imagined her to be.
 
Needs must. Easy enough to play the sybarite from the comfort of a velvet chaise longue. And it helped that Isobel’s opium really was quite good.
 
"Hm?" Ren murmured. She'd caught Isobel’s words the first time, of course. But she wanted to hear her say it again anyway. Ren was feeling maudlin tonight.
 
"I said I'm in love with you," Isobel sat up in bed and stretched languidly. "I have been for some time now. You're everything I've ever wanted, Ren."
 
You don't know me.
 
“You sure it’s not just the poppy speaking, darling?” Ren teased gently.
 
“Nennie!” Isobel laughed and tossed a pillow at Ren, who let it smack softly against the side of her head. Gods, how she loathed that fucking nickname. “Yes I’m sure, you impossible creature. I love you. And I know you feel the same. So I’ll keep on telling you until you say it back.”
 
Well, aren’t you sweet. Did you inherit all that optimism along with the family jewels?
 
Ren put out the pipe, and stood up.

Sorry I can’t be like you, dearest. But I’m not a fucking idiot.
 
Ren went back to bed, and said she loved her back. She cupped her hand around Isobel’s cheek and whispered “I’ve loved you since the day we met, darling”, and when she said it Ren thought of kissing her and also of stabbing her through the eye.

 
Day 153
 
It had been offensively easy, in the end. Ren let it drop, mid conversation, that it was her birthday.
 
It wasn’t, of course. Ren had no idea when her birthday was, but she had had as much of this game as she could stand. She was beginning to feel restless again, and when she got restless she got stupid, so a birthday was as good an excuse as any. Isobel loved birthdays; her own had been some time ago and Ren had spent an entire week spoiling her with every gift and entertainment she might find appealing. Ren hadn’t eaten well for a month after that to make up for the cost.
 
So Ren mentioned it was her birthday and Isobel’s eyes had lit up. She’d insisted on taking Ren to her favorite restaurant. Ren had put up the necessary token resistance, then acquiesced. As they were getting ready, Isobel putting up her hair and Ren sprawled on the bed watching her, she’d asked for Isobel to wear the necklace.
 
“The necklace?” Isobel frowned. “You mean the sapphire one you gave me all those months ago? It doesn’t go with this dress, love. And I keep it in the safe.”
 
I know.
 
“Please darling. It’s my birthday. I like seeing it on you.” Ren rolled off the bed and came to stand behind Isobel, watching her through the mirror on the vanity. “Just this once, for me?” Ren grinned. “I know mismatched jewelry is a faux pas most unforgivable, but I wouldn’t fall for someone who I thought couldn’t misbehave a little.”
 
Isobel laughed and Ren saw the briefest flash of hesitation cross her face. But Ren played long games and she’d chosen her moment perfectly, so the hesitation was precisely that - brief. Isobel slid off the seat and made her way across the room. Ren kept her back turned and posture relaxed, but her eyes were focused on Isobel’s reflection. She noted the drawer from which Isobel removed a ring of keys, and the painting she moved aside to reveal the safe hidden within the wall. She listened for the words she spoke to dispel the enchantment surrounding the locks.
 
Just think of it as noblesse oblige, darling.
 
When Isobel turned back around, sapphire necklace in hand, Ren was leaning against a window, looking out at the city lights, smiling.
 

Day 154
 
“Where’re you headed, Mister?”
 
The farmer looked up from the cart he was loading to the young man who had spoken. The lad had sandy brown hair, shorn roughly close to his scalp, and poorly groomed facial hair. His clothes were worn and patched to within an inch of their life. He seemed to be down on his luck, which made the manic grin on his face a little unnerving.
 
“I’ve got to finish loading this cart then I’m headed towards Baldur’s Gate.” the old farmer looked up at the sky. “Should be leaving around dawn.”
 
The young man smiled wider.
 
“Perfect,” he said. The boy had a thick country accent, not unlike his own. Likely from farmer stock as well. “Need a hand? I’ll help you load her up in exchange for a ride.”
 
The farmer shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
 
The young man worked fast, almost frantically, and between the two of them they were able to head out before dawn had even begun to lighten the sky. The young man was restless on the seat beside him, bouncing his leg, fidgeting with his clothes and patting at a satchel tied close to his chest, as if he needed constant reassurance that it was still there. Every once in a while he’d let out a quiet cackle.
 
The farmer cleared his throat uncomfortably.
 
“So,” he said, “what’s your name, son? Why are you headed to Baldur’s Gate?”
 
The young man grinned.
 
“The name’s Ren,” he dug into his satchel and pulled out a silver and sapphire necklace, holding it up to admire how it glittered in the morning light before securing it around his throat. “And I’ve recently come into some money.”
 
The farmer raised a brow. "Mighty fancy necklace you got there, boy. You didn't come across that by untoward means, did you? I won't travel with thieves, I don't want any trouble."
 
"Nah," he laughed. "Nothing shady, don't worry old man."
 
Ren lifted a hand to toy with the necklace. He knew he should have left it behind. Isobel wouldn’t think to check the contents of her safe for at least a couple of days, but she’d notice the missing sapphire immediately once she woke up and it was no longer around her neck.
 
But it really was extremely pretty.
 
“I’m just the cleverest person in the whole fucking world.”