She was positively certain they had said the wrong name, brow furrowing in confusion as they repeated it, eyes catching people moving to hug her in congratulations, but the penny still didn’t drop. She dumbly accepted thanks wholly unaware what she’d be named, searching the small band of wellwishers for familiar, trusted faces who could explain. Ruth was almost as dumbfounded as her, jaw hanging open and scrambling back into a wry grin, eventually laughing and then asking if that meant he could keep her cottage. She’d be moving, surely.
That finally shook her out of some dissociation. A familiar right hook struck the blonde from seemingly nowhere, quickly followed by a frank warning that he needed to behave. Her head still twisted and turned, a familiar cloak and hood missing as the group dwindled to just her, Ruth and a number of the healers and underlings Megara had been working alongside.
“This calls for celebration!” announced Ruth, “One drink for Madam Meg. We can’t have Arlathan’s First Lady dancing in the streets.”
But it happened. Between Sylaise’s encouragement and Megara tempering her own shock, more than one pint was imbued. Ruth had kept an eye on her as best he could, but by either distraction or indulging in a sneaky snort or two of lyrium, he had lost track of her until hearing the commotion. Shit. Nairn might hit him, but at least she was enjoying herself? She wasn’t crying about it at least.
Regardless, there was someone staring too closely for his liking as she was… dancing. Or what Meg thought was dancing. There was lots of jumping and flinging of arms to the bard's tune. Ruth chuckled. It was peculiar to him how such a clumsy and inherently unrefined elf had pulled it off. Yet, those eyes were still lingering and he was about to kick off from the wall he was leaning against to sort it. But then a familiar shadow slipped into view and as usual, Megara remained unaware of him until she turned into him on a wobbly spin. [color=#008e02]"Wheeeeeeere have you beeeeen?!"[/color]
Nairn had left the competition early, a missive from the Coterie headquarters had required his attention. He'd transversed the Eluvian Network, until he was standing back in Kirkwall. The meeting had taken longer than he would've liked, and he'd left an informant dead on the floor for someone else to clean up.
And then it was back through the Network, a weaving path of here-to-there, until he arrived once more in Arlathan. To find a celebration taking place.
Nairn, carefully cloaked in shadow, studied the crowd, gaze sweeping across faces. Before he showed himself, he was ascertaining escape routes, making mental note of danger...
And then he caught sight of lingering eyes on a familiar form, and he ground his teeth. Before schooling his features, and drifting through the crowd to settle just out of view of her, close enough that when she spun again, she'd find herself in his arms.
Working. And you've been drinking? He raised his eyebrows, as he steadied her. And his gaze cut across the crowd, to ensure that whomever had been lingering no longer did so. Satisfied with what he found, he let his gaze drift towards Ruth.
Seems you've had a bit much. Why don't we get you some water, and you tell me why we're celebrating? He inquired, slipping an arm loosely around her shoulders to ensure she'd not stumble and fall.
[color=#008e02]Oooooh he has his mad face on. I’m in trouble.[/color]
[color=#aaaaaa]Just smile. He’ll forget about it in a minute. [/color]
Meg grinned, fingers curling into cloak as she focused on his nose then back up to his eyes. Her head said ‘hello,’ while her mouth uttered quite proudly, [color=#008e02]“I have had foooour pints.” [/color]
A snicker came from behind them as Ruth made his way over to them. “Admittedly, that’s one more than you managed in Skyhold.” He’d offer, then carefully he’d appraise Nairn. “Don’t hit me, she’s fine.”
Megara piped up, [color=#008e02]“I am not. I am mad at you.”[/color]
“And what’s new with that?”
Megara pouted, [color=#008e02]“... Good point. But this is baaaaad. I can’t really be in charge, can I?”[/color] She let out a small whine, her body sinking into Nairn’s side. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder, letting out a raspberry of air before hesitantly letting the truth drop.
[color=#008e02]“I won, Nairn. They picked me. Me.” [/color]
Nairn leveled Ruth with a glare, as he adjusted how he was holding onto her. Especially as she sank into his side, concerned that she'd lose her footing, his arm slipped from her shoulders to around her waist. Four? She sounded proud of that, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her.
It was impressive, for her. And she'd been watched after... mostly. It was better than if she'd been left to her own devices with alcohol in her hand, he supposed. And eventually his gaze left Ruth.
They picked you? To run Arlathan? He grinned, and let his gaze find Ruth behind them. Good reason to let her get drunk, he acknowledged, almost too quietly to hear. No-one was watching them; too busy with their own booze and entertainment, so after another glance around he pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead.
You'll do wonderfully. Though he'd known this was a possibility, he hadn't expected it. Certainly, he'd wanted her to win... but he'd not thought much past that ideal. How this complicated his position with the C, how it'd complicate her ability to stay with him in the Marches...
But his face is schooled with a grin, and despite those complications, he's proud of her.
Ruth huffed, his arms folding over to match Nairn’s glare with a roll of his lone eye. In his defence this was nothing too nefarious, especially for him and with him keeping a, well, his one good eye on her. Megara, though, lazily snaked an arm around Nairn’s waist, merry and both equally concerned and grateful that he was there.
Nairn was not amused by her increased tolerance though. Lips pouted at first when he rolled his eyes. Reaching up, Meg would boop his nose with a finger, [color=#008e02]“I’m okaaaay.” [/color]
Seeing that he was spared a black eye, Ruth shrugged hands unfolding to find the pockets of his breeches. “Yeah well, part of the whole plan for my world domination,” he’d jest. “Now that you’re back. I’m free to chase whatever tail I fancy.”
Megara ignored Ruth, focusing solely on the man holding her, kissing her brow in congratulations. It suddenly made everything very real. If Nairn said so, it was certain. The pride in his face that she’d managed to achieve something she hadn’t even entered willingly. The responsibility, a heavy one, the lives, wellbeing and livelihoods of many now depended on her and who she chose to lead the City into its future. Her head was spinning now, worse than when she had been flapping to the music.
Her face suddenly shifted from flushed and rosy to a ghostly pale, [color=#008e02]“On second thoughts, I’m not okay. I think.. I think I’m gonna be sick.” [/color]
[color=#aaaaaa]Do not be sick. You cannot be sick. You are First Lady now. [/color]
[color=#008e02]Not. Helping. And that’s not what it’s called. [/color]
Turning in his hold, Meg let her head rest against his chest, focusing on the rhythmic ticking and clockwork mechanism.
Nairn pulled a face, as she booped his nose with her finger. He grumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Ruth as the man declared he was free to chase tail, now that he didn't need to keep an eye on Megara. The look was more, quiet acknowledgement. Enjoy your choices, Ruthie. After all, he was not here to judge the other man on his habits.
He'd kissed her brow, congratulated her, and he watched as her face shifted from flushed and bright to... pale. At her declaration, he grumbled, and gently scooped her into his arms, one arm supporting her knees while the other held her to his chest. Mmm. Maybe your tolerance isn't improving at all, he mused, as he weaved their way out of the celebration. His steps were steady and even, and the ticking of his mechanical heart didn't falter. How's'about I take you home, a suggestion that he was already acting on, feet carrying the both of them further from the celebration. He doesn't head towards her home just yet; he's waiting on her agreement before he swept her too far from the party.
Meg snickered wickedly as he pulled a face. Vaguely aware that Ruth was leaving she waved him off absently, her glassy focus still on Nairn. He’d congratulate, her stomach would drop with reality and then, what she was most accustomed with, happened. Gravity upended, but not from that of a stumble.
The scene had begun to spin as she mumbled her complaints, there were now three of him she realised. Four had been too many apparently, but quickly, cobbled streets, strangers and colleagues enjoying the evening shifted to just him and the sky behind his head. A lazy grin spread across her face, hands reached around his neck to aid him some. Even if he didn’t need it. [color=#008e02]“Ma vhenan. Nooo, but it did get me the best view.”[/color]
As they moved through the crowd she’d press her ear close, eyes drifting closed as she listened to the soothing ticking. [color=#008e02]“Yup. Best plan. Four pints and too much spinnin’ make for a date with a bucket iiiiiin…”[/color] voice paused, actually giving it some genuine thought, [color=#008e02]“ten minutes.” [/color]
Nairn chuckled as she gave him a time estimate, I don't like when you're drunk, he spoke softly, as he carried her away from the party, walking a familiar path, the one he'd often use when he was stalking outside of her home and she'd had no idea... You aren't a fun drunk, Megara. He grumbled, though the careful way that he walked, carried her, held her, and the fact he was grumbling about her state at all, were all familiar tells that gave away how much he cared.
But every-so-often isn't so bad. He added, as they turned a corner. Tick. Tock. Nairn could see the dark windows of her home, just ahead. As he stepped up onto the stoop, he'd settle her onto her feet, keeping a hand on her waist to steady her. He'd only release her once he was certain she'd stay upright.
Go settle on the couch," he'd lean around her to open the front door for her. And once she'd enter, he'd follow. He'd light a match, and go around lightning lamps so that they'd be able to see. He left her quest of finding a bucket to her.
Meg smiled as he chuckled, easing some of the tension coiling in her gut. It gained them an extra brief moment or two before her estimated downfall. As the party began to fade behind them she focused on his voice, pouting at his words, voicing a protest. [color=#008e02]“I am. I'm a hoot. I just have to pace better.”[/color] Then it shifted, eyes began searching his to reassure him, [color=#008e02]“I always have you or Ruth around when I don’t though. I’m safe as houses.” [/color]
Nairn weaved them back to the cottage easily and as she slipped down to touch ground a hand reached to cling on the doorway, taking a moment to ascertain her balance was sure. An arm dropped to his waist, fingers dancing idly as she grinned up at him. Despite the slight meandering path she took, Meg did as she was told drawing her arms around herself as she lost his comforting warmth.
[color=#008e02]“Bucket’s under the sink. I uh,”[/color] she paused, cheeks filling with air at sensing the telltale beginnings, [color=#008e02]“yeeeah, two minutes to chunky stew time.”[/color] Crawling onto the couch, Meg drew her limbs into the foetal position. [color=#008e02]“Ugh, why… why did they pick me?” [/color]
Nairn snorted. Safe as houses, huh? He chuckled as she settled on the couch. He lit the last light in the living room, before he retrieved the bucket from under the sink for her.
He sat it on the floor, within easy reach, and took his time settling on the couch beside of her. Because you won a contest. He stated. That was the simple fact of it. She'd won a contest.
It's not the end of the world. Though, you might feel like it is, given how much alcohol you consumed, he teased. Easy-going, even though he was irked with her, in the end it was just a hangover waiting for her in the morning. Nothing worse.
But aside from winnin' a contest, I think you were the best one for the job. Prideful, and he doesn't try to hide it.
[color=#008e02]“Is that not the thingy, the sayin?”[/color] head tilting, grasping at knowledge out with her reach for the moment. It didn’t matter, the couch felt nice. As Nairn fetched the bucket, Meg pulled over a thick blanket when her body’s temperature began fluctuating between hot and cold.
One minute to go.
Her face pressed into the couch, voice muffled but clear enough, [color=#008e02]“I didn’t even enter it, that was Ruth’s smartass move.” [/color]Sitting up suddenly, she’d scowl, [color=#008e02]“The Dick. I should kick him out.”[/color] A huff followed, along with her shoulders shrinking instantly, [color=#008e02]“I can’t, we’d find him dead in a ditch in a month's time.”[/color]
She snorted. [color=#008e02]“Pfft. I’m not Ruth, I don’t choose to suffer.” [/color]She could ease the woes brought by the drink simply enough after this, it just couldn’t help with the overwhelming expectation placed on her shoulders.
[color=#008e02]“You… You really think I can do it though?”[/color] Surprise and a number of emotions too quickly flickered through her face, but soon enough they settled on one, the one of ‘Oh shit.’ Hands reached and pulled the bucket over, face disappearing beneath the item's circumference.
Nairn shook his head at her, chuckling softly. He sat upright, and as she reached for the bucket, he moved to gather her hair, adjusting her blanket around herself so that it was out of the way. You'll do a great job, ma vhenan.
Done with fiddling with her blanket, he carefully removed the tie from his own hair, and pulled her hair into a low ponytail instead. You've lived Dalish. You've lived Coterie, which is a helluva step up from living City. He rubbed her back and sighed.
If there's anyone who understands every side of being an Elf in today's world, it's you. He left her side, to retrieve a glass of water for her, settling back next to her, water in hand. You've seen the bad of the Dalish, and the good. And you've seen the City Elves. You're a healer, a nurturer. The city will thrive with you.
The room swam as her stomach rebelled, the traitorous thing. Meg cursed as the porridge of beer and dinner came back to bite her, [color=#008e02]“Ugh, whyyyy?”[/color] Not expecting it to be answered, Megara listened instead between her wretchings. A soft whine of thanks fell as he took care of her hair and comforted her, interjecting his heartfelt reasons with, [color=#008e02]“you’re so sweet to me.” [/color]
Meg’s head eventually came up, rubbing away the tears shed in the crook of her elbow. [color=#008e02]“This is a lot bigger than running an infirmary, even running the Coterie,”[/color] she’d sigh. As he fetched her a glass of water, Meg pulled her head up, arms stilling using the bucket as leverage. Staring off, she listened, her mind tangling his faith, Sylaise’s, Ruth’s, the many others around her who all were gladly putting Arlathan’s future in her hands with her doubt.
[color=#008e02]“Nairn, I’m scared.”[/color] She admitted. [color=#008e02]“I’m scared cos I don’t want another Kirkwall. I know it’s silly, I know. And your right, you’re all right. I would be kinda good? Not sure how this,”[/color] she wagged a finger between them, [color=#008e02]“cos well I gotta meet Myt- OH. GODS.”[/color] Eyes wide, Megara sucked in a deep breath, hands clenched the bucket before she began talking, voice barely a whisper. [color=#008e02]“IgottameetMythalohmygods.”[/color]
Nairn nodded, listening to her. She admitted she was scared, and he chuckled. And then, very quickly, she'd hit a realization and Nairn laughed. Loud, full-laugh, as he moved to settle behind of her, so that he could slip an arm around her.
Ah, my silly girl. You're going to do beautifully. He squeezed her in a half-hug. Want me to come meet Mythal with you? He rubbed her back.
And he sighed, still holding her glass of water in one hand. Besides, it's not like you're the only one running Arlathan, ma vhenan. You'll have help. It's not all on you.
His laughter snapped her out of the terror coursing through her. Mythal was… well she was Mythal, Mother of all. The comfort and reassurance brought from his arms began to ground her, drawing her back from the drink compounding her quiet worry. [color=#008e02]“Would you?” [/color]surprise laid heavily in her voice, along with a gentle plea.
[color=#008e02]“I… I don’t know if you’ll be allo- Wait. I’m in charge, of course you can come.” [/color]Chuckling to herself, Meg leaned deeper into him, setting down the bucket and taking the water finally. [color=#008e02]“Yeah, that’s true… gonna need all the help I can get.” [/color]She sat for a moment, enjoying his arms around her between sips and just letting her mind wander, wondering at how tomorrow was going to be very different.
Against the rim of her glass Megara blew some bubbles, done with the water and being sick she sat it on a side table. The thrum of alcohol still dulled her senses and reflexes, but she’d passed the worst, the hangover something to tend to later when it rose. [color=#008e02]“I missed you,”[/color] cheek rubbing against his, [color=#008e02]“You missed me dancing.” [/color]
