Ruth had gathered Megara, and Nairn had paid half down on his replacement, in the form of a gold bracelet and earring set that he'd nicked off a mark that morning. He wanted to be at home, before she got there. He took his time walking, still buzzed and quite overwhelmed with the fact he had a son. What was perhaps, more overwhelming still, was the fact he'd basically raised his child without knowing who they were. He'd ask questions, if the boy's mother was alive, but her letters had explained it well enough...
He'd never thought she still needed his funding after he'd been pronounced dead. He should have set up a trust for her care; ensured she and the boy never came near the Coterie again. Too late now, the thought weighed heavy on his mind. Haulean had never been the kind of child that Nairn could bring himself to break down and recreate; he'd always been so pure, so happy. Not like many of his age group; many of those children knew only hardships... but Haulean?
He'd been well-cared for, before being sent to his father's care. She must have known it was a gamble that he'd treat the boy as well as he had. But perhaps that was easier than watching him experience hardships like hunger...?
Eventually, he stood in front of the door to his home within the Coterie's network, the lights were dark. Good. That meant Ruth hadn't arrived with her, yet. He could go in, lay down, sober up a bit before she got in... And learn to ignore the fucking gear that clanked every-so-often. He'd pay the dwarf in rubies if she'd stop that from happening, for sure.
He settled on the couch, eyes closed, and sighed. He never wanted to be a parent for a reason; no matter how good everyone said he was with training the younglings within the C. That was easy, he was creating workers. Giving them tools to survive...
Much different than raising your own child in a criminal network. He didn't even like that Megara was here so often. Eventually, he'd drift off on his back, one arm over his eyes, even the clanking of that persistent gear couldn't keep him from napping as he came down from his high.
She had expected to be left waiting for a while, but when the time ticked over past the three hour mark Meg’s foot had begun to tap. Concern filled her gut before annoyance, anger that she’d been left abandoned at an expensive location. Lateness she expected but a no-show raised concerns spiralling when she saw Danny walking through the restaurant towards her. Her back straightened, taut with tension until the lad explained, gaze finding Ruth following though his drunken weaving between the tables did nothing but infuriate her.
Hauling the healer by the scruff of the neck, Megara instructed Danny to take her home to Nairn, all while interrogating the still high Ruth over this supposed ‘accident’. Danny led the way, quietly thankful he didn’t understand the vicious way Meg snapped at Ruth in Dalish, unnerved by the complete shift in her normally sweet character. By the time they had made it through the Eluvian she had him by the ear, chastising him and ordering Danny he was in charge of the fool and she’d make her own way home. Her stern look was enough that the Coterie lad didn’t offer an argument, quickly taking Ruth off her hands and to the dorms to sleep off the night's events.
In the short walk it took from the Eluvian to the door she had already prepared a number of healing spells, mentally checked where her supplies were and the sustaining ward if his heart was failing. Nairn!? Ma Vhenan!? calling as she pushed through the doorway into the hallway. The door fell closed behind her as hands went to pull off the shawl wrapped around her shoulders, searching every corner for him until landing on his resting form on the couch.
Seeing his chest rise and fall Meg felt she could breathe again, sighing heavily and reaching to steady herself on the doorframe.
What were you and that idiot up to? Ruth was far too gone to be of any use, so explain yourself!
Nairn startled, always a light sleeper, and promptly toppled off of the couch. Too fucked up to catch himself, he'd hit the floor hard. Blearily blinking sleep from his vision, he'd stare at her from where he lay. Processing.
Realizing. And when he realized, he pushed himself upright clumsily. There was no use in (nor any easy way to) hide that he was anything but sober at the moment. She was a healer — and she'd been his healer long enough to recognize when he was drunk or high, or both.
Ah... He rubbed his face with one hand, carefully touching his nose. ...Barfi-i-i-ght? He furrowed his brows, that wasn't quite right. Ruth-fight. He nodded, as if that explained everything.
He leaned against the couch, legs splayed out in front of him. Mmm. Green is your color, he murmured, appreciatively taking in her appearance. And then it dawned on him, that this was a special dress. Yes, she looked good in it. But she rarely wore it. Wash-nervoush.
He scrubbed his face with both hands, wincing when he was too rough with his nose, before he reached into his pocket. Almost frantic, because he didn't check that it didn't get lost—
Fingers clasp the small box, and it's withdrawn from his pocket, opened carefully as if he needs to make sure it's in perfect condition. Frowning at the ring, he'd glance over the top of the little box towards her, in the doorway. And immediately realize that he's ruined any hope of surprising her.
But logically, if he were sober, he'd recognize she must have guessed on some level, to wear that dress. It doesn't stop him from flushing, and closing the ring box, though. He doesn't offer it to her, instead he turned and shoved it in-between the couch cushions, like that might help.
In the doorway Megara watched, stared at him with an ever deepening frown the more she picked up the signs.
Wasted. And high. On their anniversary.
Furious wasn’t enough to describe how the elf felt, her hard gaze following him up to his feet, arching with the faded memory. And? knowing there was far more to it than a simple brawl, he was too twitchy, anxious without the stimulants coursing in his system. She drew the shawl into her hands, folding the fabric roughly, desperately needing something to occupy her hands.
Their motions stopped dead when murmured at her, gaze finding his wandering over her outfit. It only infuriated her more. A curse in dalish fell, Nervous? Of wha- cut off as he checked himself for something. Suspicion. Something that rarely entered her expression now consumed it, eyes narrowed at the box unable to comprehend at first. Him hiding it only reinforced her need to know the truth.
Her voice clipped between breaths, demanding an answer from him. What. Is. That Clasping the shawl in one had Meg pointed between the cushions.
Nairn bit his lip, when she honed in on the box. Demanded to know what it was. Wasted as he was, he was far less anxious, far less stoic. It was about the only time his expressions were clear on his face. Absolute panic; he didn't want her to know about the ring, or what tonight was supposed to have been. N-nothing. he struggled for a moment with the word, brows furrowing in concentration. Well, it was harder to keep himself from stammering or lisping while fucked up. Late because'f Haulean.
Not a lie. If he lied to her, she'd be able to tell.
Kid's mom died. He sounded genuinely upset. That wasn't going to be enough to keep her off the ring, though. He exhaled shakily, Never wanted kids, still don't want kids. He'd pulled one of his knees to his chest, gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. 'm all he's-got. Not an outright confession or explanation, especially since the Coterie tended to consider the children in Nairn's training his.
It was something. His avoidance of it left no doubt in her mind that it had reason for the utter panic his face paled with. Eyes squinted, he didn’t even look convinced by his own admission the more she studied him. And then it came tumbling out, a more plausible reason for his no show, work.
It didn’t make sense at first. The confused line across her brow became more pronounced than anger, Haulean? Megara blinked, expression turning lost and her gaze shifting while his words repeated themselves in her mind. None of it made sense, the kids had always been a part of the C. What difference was it now? Nairn… what are you talking about? What happened with Haulean to make you s-. Her words halted abruptly, dying in her throat when an image of the young lad came into her head.
Eyes widened but the rest of her stood frozen in the doorway, preparing herself, not even her hands dared play with the shawl.
Say it. her voice barely above a whisper, grew in volume though still not enough to yell.
Nairn couldn't bring himself to look at her; this revelation was going to break her heart, if only because he'd never warned her that such a thing might happen. It hadn't seemed like it was important... he'd never expected to know the kid. Ki-kid's mine. His throat felt dry, like he was choking on cotton, and he rested his forehead against his knee.
Nothing he could say would make her react any different. So he didn't try to explain. He adjusted, chin resting on his knee, almost looking at her but not quite. He didn't want to see the hurt on her face; he already had to hear it in her voice.
Now, she'd definitely forget the ring. Maybe it would be better that way. He's lied to her before, sure. But never about this sort of thing. The clanking of that gods-damned gear became his new focus, anything so he'd not have to watch her realize their lives were changing drastically.
He had promised her. That after coming to his rescue and finding out he’d been alive all this time, that all the big lies were over. It stung. He knew this would cut her deeper than anything else, which was why he’d probably hoped it would never come to light, but nothing stayed in the shadows forever.
Meg inhaled a shaky breath before a pulse, felt only beneath their feet rumbled out across the floor. The boards began to vibrate in place, gentle in the beginning, but then shaking up all the dust trapped between them into the air. Plant pots cracked spewing soil across their water trays to begin gathering into a bodily shape that gasped, green orbs illuminating where eyes would be, shocked and concerned.
The elf had pushed out her companion. Body shaking while tears began their current over her cheeks. You. Lied. Again.
Megara… the dust and soil echoed eerily. Not. Now. I needed you out so I don’t do something foolish.
Taking a breath, Meg’s eyes reopened indifferently. You have a son. And you said nothing.
Nairn flinched, listening to her cry, caught the way she trembled from the corner of his eye. But his gaze had flitted, startled to the being that came to life from the dust and dirt. Sylaise. Nosy fucking Evanuris.
There was a-al-always, he frowned at himself, brow furrowing. a chance. D-didn't seem im-pro... important, if it wasn't true. He cleared his throat, and pressed the fingers of one hand against his lips. He inhaled slowly, and let his gaze leave the spirit in the room. His... mother, never t-told me if the ch-child survived. He'd settled the hand against his lips against his chest, tapping silently against metal, in time with the gear's broken whir. Why... would I tell you if I don't know if it's true? Just as bad as a l-l-lie.
Because in his mind, it was. If the child was dead, she's worried about someone who's gone. He exhaled deeply, and leaned against the couch, staring towards her but still not meeting her gaze. And slowly, eyes glancing from her to the spirit, he'd push himself to his knees. And with a great amount of concentration, he'd find his feet. Taking a second to acclimate to being upright, he'd move to stand in front of her. It doesn't occur to him to explain how he knows this is his child; save for the obvious familial resemblance between the two of them.
Ir abelas, Meghren. An apology was not enough; he'd always been adamant he'd never wanted children, that her inability to provide that would never come into play in their relationship. He'd meant it. But now's not the time to tell her that he doesn't want this son. He reached to touch her face, fingers gentle despite callouses built-up over time, unless she pulled away he'd swipe his thumb under her eyes, wiping away tear tracks. I'm sorry.
The dust and dirt that had formed into Sylaise awkwardly shifted, the sediments rippled under the force of magic suspending the Evanaris outside her host. She tried to turn, looking elsewhere than the revelations unfolding between the lovers.
Megara on the other hand continued to stare through Nairn, each breath frayed and catching while trying to listen. She’d chew the inside of her cheek, scowling when words like not important and if it was true tumbled out of his mouth. You knew. Don’t you dare try and say you didn’t know he lived. You just- Her mouth snapped shut, jaw wobbling with the repeating cycle of abandonment. Again, and again, and again. She had been content childless, why want what she couldn’t have?
Her gaze stared off, lost and wrestling with emotions and feelings long buried, attention only returning to him standing, reaching to wipe her tears away. His apology hung in the air, a fragile bridge between them. Flinching, snatching her head back, Meg's expression hardened, tears turning to a fire in her stare.
Nairn, she hissed, voice laced with seething anger, you never told me. Some things we don’t share with each other, but this, this... Her calm snapped, taking the tail of the shawl and she whipped the fabric against his shoulder. Do I mean that little to you that you couldn’t trust me at all!?
Realising she had screamed the last part, Meg sucked in a deep breath and turned on her heels, storming off towards their bedroom.
Nairn inhaled sharply, when she yelled at him. Screamed, rather. He watched her for a moment, before he followed, reaching out to grab her by the wrist. You mean the wo-or-world to me. He hissed, against her ear.
I'm goin'. I'll send Ruth for my clothes. He loosened his hold on her, and leaned to murmur against her ear, I l-love you. Too quiet for the disembodied spirit to catch, though no doubt she'd figure it out. He let her go, and scowled as he turned.
The front door shut behind of him, so quiet that if not for his things still in the home, it was like he was never there at all. That wasn't how he'd wanted to finally say those words. But he couldn't take them back, now. And he wasn't certain if he'd get the chance to say them again, either.
