#haylan had a glass too much of wine

[vancilart]

day 3: bold

bro not where the other nobles can see noo haha broo stoooppp

[calamity-writes]

EH 27.4 - Endgame

Cast: Haylan ( @siriusdraws ),  Rythlen Theirin ( @picchar )​, Milliara (me!) Theseus Trevelyan (@perditionxroad), Peanut Adaar ( @cupcakelogic ), Fiowyn ( @shyquisitor )

Guest appearance: Karya and Aldes ( @kingsdragonage ), Kenslynn ( @megan-mayhem ), the DuMarcs ( @fangrl-esque )

Milliara - The Winter Palace

There was always a fine line between a pleasant numbness to the evening and being tipsy and risk upsetting the careful balance the Inquisition had managed to achieve in the Orlesian court.Milliara was currently dancing along that line as though it were a balance beam, glass of bubbly wine in hand. The night had been both easier and worse than she'd imagined and she wasn't about to go through the rest of it sober.

Sooner or later she would have to address what had happened, explain to Theseus why Frederic was dead, and figure out where to go from there.

But right now there was waltz playing and she hadn't danced properly in ages and anyone who even thought about stopping her from getting onto the ballroom floor was going to have the empty champagne flute shoved into their face or worse. Speaking of champagne... she finished off the flute and set it down on the passing tray of a human server who was passing by. Celene had found replacements for all the dead elves, somehow. Now food and wine was flowing again, a fact that went a long way to relieving stress in the court.

Spotting the New Guy speaking to one of the Lesser DuMarcs, the bard in Millie stirred, and she breezed over to join them, slipping her hand into the crook of Galaren's elbow.

"Why Mister DuMarc," Milliara said, purposfully forgetting the man's purchased title. It was paltry, anyways. The Patriarch and the main line were carefully avoiding the New Guy, despite the significant resemblance of the man's brows and chin. "Do you mind if I steal your nephew for a dance?" A twisted blade of a phrase. The man speaking to Gal couldn't have been more than ten years his elder, but the titters of onlookers ensured that they'd heard Milliara purposefully call him older, and tie Galaren to the family name.

"Inquisitor," the older man said with a stiff bow. "He is yours." Then a beat later. "please."

"Oh he's not mine," Milliara said with a laugh to end all bitch laughs. "Not yet."

Winking at the older man, she guided Galaren towards the ballroom floor, smirking at the sputtering she left behind.

"Have I mentioned that I like you?" Galaren said, grinning and glancing over his shoulder. "Because I do."

"Everyone likes me until they get to know me," Milliara said easily. That statement was a little too true after tonight. "I hope you know how to dance. Also, they should at least have sent your actual uncle over to try to shame you into leaving, not second-cousin Patrick."

"Someone did their homework," Galaren said, turning to pull her into a dancer's frame as they reached the edge of the floor. It appears he did, in fact, know how to dance. Or enough to not be horrid at it.

Milliara eased into the frame, adjusting her natural position for his height and frame. It was second nature, easier than riding a bike, even after so many years away.

"No," she said. "I used to be a pet of a member of the court, dealing with your family was part of the Game. Well, extended family, I'm assuming. Very extended based on the Ferelden accent, hm?"

He stepped forward and she followed, flowing with him into the slow circuit of dancers. They'd cleaned the floor but she was sure there would still be drops of red somewhere underfoot. That was nothing new, of course.

"My mother's side," Galaren said with a twitch of his shoulder. Milliara felt it through his forearm where her hand rested delicately at the crook of his elbow. "And they'd hesitate to let me use the name but it was on the certificate after I was born."

Illegitimate then, Milliara reasoned.

"The guy you took out, that you were yelling about earlier- that was the guy who used to own- er," Gal started, then stopped, realising what he'd said.

"No, you're right," the bubbly wine said through a lying smile full of teeth. "He owned me. See that's what happens when a ranked Chevalier rescues a street rat and pays for her education, food and housing. Slavery is only technically illegal on Orlais."

They danced without saying much for a few bars, and Milliara thought about her cousin. This was were Fiowyn would say something cute and suggestive and then have a fling to ease off the stress. But everything Milliara could think of just kept swirling back around to work or the murder of her ex. Besides, she didn't even know this man, aside from that he was a DuMarc and had been stiffed by Gaspard.

"I hope it hurt," Galaren said after a moment.

Reflex got the words out of Milliara's lips before her brain had a moment to think about them.

"when I crawled up from the Abyss? Only a bit." Tick, tick, tick, and she realised he hadn't used the terrible pickup line. "Wait- you said you hoped it hurt, not did it hurt." She pursed her lips, frowning slightly. "I think I can't hold as much wine as I used to be able to."

"I could try a pickup line," Galaren offered with a wink but then shook his head. "No, when you killed him. I hope it hurt."

Milliara thought about the ribbons of skin and flesh, covered with pink foam and slicked red.

"It did," she said with a small nod. "Excuse me, I think I need some fresh air actually," she said, stepping back and out from the frame of his arms. "You should go ask that man over there to dance," she said, gesturing over towards Dorian. "He'll be better company, I'm sure."

She bobbed her head as a half apology and slipped through the dancers towards the balcony where she had climbed up only an hour or so before. The night air was cool and fresh, and she sucked it down to try to calm the roiling in her chest. It helped, but more than that, it was the quiet, being away from the Vipers and whispers and eyes.

Curling her fingers over the marble ballistrade, Milliara leaned forward and rested her hips against it, looking out into the garden. Half-heartedly, she debated hopping over and making a run for the hotel, just disappearing and lettng the party run its course without her. But that would send the other Inquisition members into a Panic. Cullen was already grieving, Josie was playing catchup with the Rousseau clan after Fred's death had come to light, and she couldn't abandon them, even if she wanted to.

"I thought I might find you out here." Milliara looked over her shoulder to see Solas standing at the doorway into the ballroom. "Do you wish for company? If not I will let you be alone."

Milliara glanced past him, but it seemed he was alone. Small blessings.

"No," she said quietly, turning to face the garden again. "I actually don't know what I want, to be honest." Whoops. That was the wine again. "I mean-"

When she glanced back, he was smiling, and he rested a gloved hand on her forearm. Kid leather, black and soft, she could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin leather. Milliara tried not to think about how his hands had felt on her back.   "It is a reasonable answer to everything that has happened tonight," Solas said gently. "I did not mean to cause any of-"

"Solas," she interrupted. "You couldnt have known, I- I kissed you. I don't regret it, not really. Sure the timing could have been better. But if it wasn't that, something else would have set him off. Being here, around everything that I used to be, everything he used to be, it would have happened sooner or later." It boiled down to that, really. Deep down, she and Fred had been poison. Now he was gone, and Milliara wondered if she was poison without him. Could she move on now, and be the person she wanted to be? Or would she have to face the fact that she always had been and always would be a bad person?

The thought terrified her.

"You don't regret it?" Solas asked, lifting his eyebrows. "I thought you had made your choice for the Templar."

Milliara shook her head.

"I thought I had too," she admitted. "But now..." After seeing him angry, seeing him act a little too much like Fred, even if it had been valid, scared her almost as much as his use of Lyrium did.

"You should speak with him," Solas said, stepping back from the railing. "However, if the offer is not unwanted, I cannot allow this opportunity to pass me by. Lady Inquisitior, may I have this dance?" He dipped into a courtly bow, looking up at her with a small smile.

Heart hurting, Milliara took his offered hand and stepped away from the railing. Tonight, she would just enjoy this. She could sort out feelings and the mess she'd made tomorrow.

Stepping into Solas's arms, she blinked in surprise, a slow smile spreading on her face as he guided her into a slow waltz on the balcony itself, away from the crowd. The smoothness of his steps and ease of movement surprised her, but she bit back the questions on the tip of her tongue. They could wait.

As the music slowed, song drawing toward an end, Solas cupped her cheek. Lifting up onto her toes, Milliara closed the distance to his lips. This kiss was everything the other was not. Soft and quiet, not impulsive and meant to burn away old memories. His lips were warm, and he tasted like wine and cake and magic. The heady flavours made Milliara cling closer, tucking herself into Solas's arms where she was safe and warm and-

Milliara heard a scuff of shoes on stone behind her and a sharp intake of breath. Breaking the kiss, she turned, and felt her heart twist in her chest at Theseus's face.

"Forgive the interruption," Theseus said coldly. His face was tight, hands balled at his sides. "Excuse me." He turned on his heel and hung there for the barest of hesitations. Milliara knew this was where she was supposed to call out and apologize, explain. Something. But there was just... nothing left of her to put into it.

It seemed as though she was poison after all, entirely independent of Fred's presence.

Theseus marched out of sight, shoulders taut. Millie let him go, biting her lip.

"Solas," she said, looking back up at him. "Would you escort me back to the hotel? I think... I'm done with the ball." The hotel had hot showers and wine and beds, and maybe if she was feeling like enough of a bitch, an apostate who could help scrub away the lingering grime of the night.

"Of course," Solas said. Stepping back, he offered his elbow to her, and she took it, grateful for an anchor in the middle of too many feelings.