mahalakshmi | AU - MAGNI & LAKSHMI

A nod, though her gaze flickers to the bite of her lip, the nervous tension in it, and she damns herself silently.

"Yes." Wait. Say more. "I thought you might need to rest, first." Another long moment, as Magni starts to lead them to the staircase ascending to the other floors. "And— adjust before so many people arrive."

A quiet huff to herself, frustrated with her own ability to articulate, a though she's been stunted in her words and communication.

She is so damnably tall. As she leads at a length. Enough that Lakshmi that she has to extend to keep up with her. At least until the stairs and at least... that is at the same pace.

How ridiculous she must look, kept beside such a tall woman. Trailing after her in a flutter of material as the long skirts and veils and shawls drape behind her on the floor. "It will be alright, with a few hours, I can prepare." What sort would they have all this cold? Huddling around the fire hoping their fingers didn't freeze off.

That's mean, Lakshmi, but at least it gives her something to giggle on the inside over.

Just a little nod. Of course. Perhaps she was underestimating her. Perhaps that was insulting. In silence she keeps walking, reaching a long hallways, carrying on until she reaches a heavy oak door, a tree carved into it, the boughs weaving over and under one another. She opens the door, and holds it open for Lakshmi.

The room itself is beautiful, the bed extensive and made up with blue and gold silks, the curtains heavy and flowing velvet, ornaments of carved wood, and a glittering chandelier of intricately woven and metals. I made this for you, she would say, but she cannot. Instead, she moves towards the window. The views are stunning, looking over the lake, the forestry that reached over the land.

In the cupboard there are furs, blankets some warmer clothes. "I hope it pleases you. The clothes are... for your comfort. I do not expect you to set aside your traditions from home."

It's - beautiful. All of it. She'd never admit to letting her head getting filled with miserable stories, but she knew not to expect anything grand. Getting her hopes up over hasty marriages was a foolish thing.

But this far exceeded them, and in the privacy away from their staff, the household, and even for a moment, it overwhelms if they were there. Her face is filled with utter wonder as she looks over it all. Her hand moving against the wooden bedframe, smoothing over it with a reverent touch. "It does."

That said - this was her bedchamber. Or. Their bedchamber, when it was time for it. It makes her pause... her hands stop, and for the first time, she realises, as she walks around the table - they're all alone. She clears her throat, as she walks back. Slowly. Carefully. Her shoulders roll back, lifting her hands up to the veil in her hair. Slowly sliding out the pins that hold the material in place. Letting it, and all the hair it held in place on top of her head, fall free. Tumbling long and black down her back.

"I... if you would like me now. Or later tonight..."

Oh.

That— oh.

Magni stares at her wife for a moment, and for that impossibly long span of time it feels like her heart has stopped. Carefully, she tries to summon words that might save them both from this, from discomfort and disease. "You are not beholden to my wants." Her lust or demands, her whims. "I honour you as you have honoured me. We need not—"

She clears her throat, shakes her head, and bows to Rani. "Make yourself at home."

Lakshmi just about wants to melt into the floor before she speaks again. Waiting, for something that at least would tell her that her wife was interested in her now that no one was watching them. A kiss, maybe lingering close. A touch. Something at all.

We need not. Her eyes look down, immediately retreating back. Oh. She didn't like her? That might... well, the rumours. She hadn't given them much thought until now. If she'd been... no, no Lakshmi had probably just made an utter fool of herself.

Better to just move on, pretending her cheeks weren't burning. "Thank-you. I will see you at dinner."

A quite sound of agreement, before she bows to Lakshmi, and walks swiftly to the door to make her exit. Get out, go, don't let her see the hands threatening to shake or how thrown she was. Don't let her see.

She watches her go in silence. Worried, to say the least of it. Unsure how to feel beyond that. That turning over dread in her stomach that - she'd overstepped some line, or misunderstood a custom or.

Or worse, that in some way, she was utterly unappealing to her new wife. The others, the others she could make up for. The others she could learn and apologies for. But if she was unappealing then - ?

The rest gets swallowed up, at least, when her ladies arrive. Chattering eagerly and at least conversation is easy. At least, she can be lead along and, with it, at least a plan. At least, when they begin to undress her, that being unappealing was something she could something about. That she turns them and instructs for what had to be the first time in her life she'd ever been concerned over such a thing, that she wanted to look beautiful. Taking up the clothes that had been laid out of her, and instructing them to do as much as they possibly could for her.

So that when she appears for the night's celebratory dinner - she is exactly that. Dressed regally for the rank she had come from but in the manner of the family she had joined, dripping with gold, her fingers stained delicately as rings and chains hung off them. Her eyes darkly lined and her brow painted in a thin line of dots that curved around and into her hairline - as a newlywed bride would wear on such a night. At least warm, now, that she could walk into the hall with her head held proudly high. Her long black hair trailing almost to her knees, falling back behind her.

If the hope of, please let this be enough, is there, it is buried deep to making sure she did not misstep or fumble as she walks up to take her place as Lady here, to the house and lands. To sit beside her wife, and nod, deeply to her new people, when they bowed to her.

When she sees her, Magni has to fight not to stare. That would be rude, disconcerting, but it is hard to keep her gaze from her wife. She was undeniably beautiful, a mix of pride, bravery and strength that Magni was certain lay beneath that demure manner that propriety demanded. When she had first heard of her, on the heels of devastation, the thought of marriage had been frankly hard to stomach. A marriage that was practical and political, rather than for love? That at least felt like she could do some service to her family and repair the mess that she had started to create around her in the aftermath of two very painful betrayals.

Seeing her now, she has to inhale slowly. There is a strange sort of pride - not a possessive she is mine sort of pride, but something gentler. Proud that she has taken this so much in stride, that she looks so much a part of Talonhold and yet holds on to something of her own home. That is... Magni is not certain how well she would manage that, in truth. She can feel very comfortable at home certain of herself, but that normal confidence and steadiness has been eroded by the loss of two of those that she counted closest and dearest to her. It has been a slow erosion these past three months, and she is not entirely sure how to rebuild herself. It seems an unfair thing, to have wed someone and yet feel so unsteady, that Rani cannot possibly realise how precarious Magni feels most days. She cannot let her down.

There are many guests. Local nobility, dear friends and family, and there are drinks and hors d'oeuvres being circulated on silver platters, as a string quartet plays. As Lakshmi enters, a hush falls over the room, and Magni approaches her wife, bows, and— Fjorleif Beritdottir, Magni's mother, approaches swiftly, curtseying and then takes both of her daughter-in-laws hands. She isn't quite so tall as her daughter, but her bearing is almost regal, hair blonde turning to silver, and her gaze sharp. It is she who played a key roll in organising the match. "It's wonderful to meet you at last."

Lakshmi sinks into a respectfully deep bow, to her wife, her hands offered up to be taken as she does so - to know her place within these new halls with the weight of expectation. That at least, as she has first arrived, there is only one person who is her sole keeper, who she must see to obey in all things.

To respect, in more than just her singularity. As her new mother-in-law is introduced. Someone who Lakshmi at least, knew from letters that her father had given her to read and make the choice over. Her respect for her is equal, a bow just as deep, "And you, Lady Mother, to finally meet the one who is responsible for my happiness."

Something she hopes is not too bold either, but she knows her role perfectly, how to talk and seem, but it is earnest. I will be happy here, it might not be love, but she could settle for kindness and friendship. Something people were at least coming forward with easily, at present.

It's only when she looks back, really, that she notices that Magni seems to be looking at her, with something that isn't... just cursory, and with it, something swells in her. Whatever else, that was at least a kindness for the public to see. Makes it easy to grip warmly back to her mother in laws hands, dropping her head down to kiss them across the knuckles in affection.

The Dowager Grevinne's smile goes past approving and firmly into warm as she squeezes Lakshmi's hands reassuringly. "Come. We must introduce you to everyone."

She moves confidently, quickly, with full command of the room, drawing her daughter-in-law to the centre. Magni watches with— not concern, but a degree of tension as she moves to follow for this presentation, not leave Lakshmi alone in this. Fjorleif releases Lakshmi's hands and she claps her own, the music and the hum of conversation drawing to a watchful silence.

"My dear friends," the Dowager begins, standing between her daughter and daughter-in-law, holding their hands in hers. "Today Lady Tambe has joined us not only in Talonhold, our home, but in our hearts. I am honoured to call her daughter." She looks to Lakshmi, and smiles, as she brings Magni and Lakshmi's hand together in front of her, holding them together. "I wish you both every happiness, and that your marriage be long and happy, and showered with countless blessings. Please join me in congratulating the Jarl and Grevinne of Eidverfell."

Polite applause, accompanied by the inevitable murmurs (intrigued, approving, gossiping, puzzled) as the music swells once more, and the Dowager steps to the side. It seems as though people are already approaching to have introductions made, and Magni feels— reticence, for how many people she is about to be required to engage with. She wishes this could have been some small affair, just the two of them, a chance to come to know one another, and—

"— I must say, I was still partway expecting to see Miss Sabilline," a man who was just introduced to Lakshmi is saying. Ostensibly it's quiet enough only for the Dowager to hear, as if it could be some conspiratorial chuckle, but Magni's jaw sets, and it's certainly loud enough for Lakshmi to hear, even if the other guests might not. There is enough murmuring and looks that he can't be the only person with that line of thought, and Magni's back goes rigid.

With her skirts held in one hand, she nods and bows and makes herself as pleasant as possible with her hand being led as she is introduced to each member of this Hold, all that they see too. Well-wishing or otherwise. Paraded before them to every kind of inspection that she dutifully goes through without complaint.

Because in truth, where her wife might be silent - Lakshmi herself is certainly not. She seeks to engage with each person as they come. To make her presence known to each of them. How devotedly she puts each name and face to memory. This is her life, now, and she will make the best of it that she can.

At least, until there is a name that she doesn't know. Her mouth opens, curious, looking up because the snap of tension of in her new wife is sudden and absolute. But her response is a gently reassuring as she could be. "It is very far from the deserts for a Tambe, isn't it? But both our families hope to expand the trade now that we are one." Diplomatic, playing off with an air of laughter that lets others do the same with her words.

It's careful, slowly, that she looks out of the corner of her eye to watch Magni, her breath held.

He makes an approving sort of sound, faintly surprised but warm enough. Apparently taken off-guard that she would respond, but appreciating it, and giving her a renewed appraisal before he moves on, and the next person arrives.

"Forgive me," she murmurs, before taking a step back. There is business to attend to, maybe letters she can write, work to be done.

She cannot leave, though, without essentially abandoning her wife, and she stops herself before she can even begin to turn.

Her stomach flips over itself, as her wife begins to leave her grasp, alone in front of all these people. Which would be an embarrassment that she'd never lived down. Not on what amounted as their wedding day. Her face heats up, panic tinging in her features, as she catches her hand before she can go too far, turning with her and the worry of so many watching them that, she smiles, straining, but continued.

"My Wife," Do not leave her alone with all of these people. Rather, thinking rapidly as she can, she motions Magni's mother close and with her eyes lowered and a truly apologetic gaze. "Forgive me, my journey was so long, I think I am beginning to tire."

Let them sit down, where at least they could have a barrier to everyone prying in. Give Magni a second to get away.

Magni looks to Lakshmi, and her expression is too much contained. The apology in her gaze is hard to parse, the strain that pulls at her. Fjorleif's hand briefly rests at Magni's forearm, squeezes fleetingly.

"Of course, my dear." Not willing to undermine Magni's authority, she looks to her daughter. Magni is capable, has proven herself able to carry her father's mantle, and she must snap out of the haze that her failed engagement has brought down on her if she is to allow them to carry on.

A blink, and Magni feels more returned to her senses, and rests one of her hands at the small of Lakshmi's back, as though to steady her. "It is very warm. Perhaps we can visit the balcony or—" Or, uh? "Or retire for the evening."

"I am - " what would be a good thing to divert from everything that has been said, that would - merit them leaving. " - cold, actually. I am afraid we southerners aren't used to your northern winters."

This had to be winter, surely? She didn't care what anyone said to tell her different, this was utterly freezing. The clothes helped, certainly, but this would take some getting used to. In more than one way.

Granted there is an easy distraction with the clap of a hand, a raucous bit of laughter. "It's your wedding night, Lass, I am sure you won't be cold long, aye?"

She can't help, she flushes and immediately drops her gaze. Which earns yet more laughter. Swallowing dryly, trying not to think about the conversation they'd already had about that topic.

"You forget yourself, sir." Magni's voice is louder, for once, cuts more harshly across the laughter. "Though perhaps that's what passes for manners and good breeding in Millertham."

(Fjorleif listens, watches, makes mental notes on the behaviour of Mr Mortimer Walsham on this occasion. She will have to spend time educating Lakshmi on their network, the understanding and observations she'd made over the years.)

Mr Walsham, faced with the looming giant of a Jarl, blusters a little bit, before he stands down. Doubtless the crassness would not end with that, and Magni sighs internally. What nightmare had they inflicted upon Lakshmi? She looks back to her wife, and doesn't linger on how to break the time of year to her.

"The drawing room, then." Smaller, a good fireplace, a good retreat.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Carefully, this time she reaches for her, earnestly. Looking to take her hand so that she could be led away. Stepping in to be close to her, the seeming intimacy for what was supposed to be a newly wed's behaviour with each other.

If things were other than what they are.

The reach— she responds to, taking Lakshmi's arm in her own, drawing her closer. Stiff, still, shoulders too upright, but she so wants to be protective, doesn't want to give the jackals room to tear pieces off them. Fjorleif must stay with the company, carry on the party, but she speaks softly to Lakshmi - thanks her for quick thinking, touches her back briefly in a gesture of soothing that one might offer to someone not feeling well, and smiles with genuine warmth as they draw away.

She can see to the party. Her daughter is a capable Jarl, but she is not blind to her present struggles.

So they make it to the drawing room, and Magni feels almost shaky as she closes the door behind them and exhales a shuddering breath. Pull it together. Get in control of yourself.

Lakshmi doesn't linger once they're away from prying eyes. Stepping away from her to stride towards the fire. Her hands lifting as she goes, holding them where they had turned icy to the tips.

Not really sure what to say after - that. But in her best attempt at some humour for both their sakes, she tries: "I am sure we must go back out eventually." Considerate for them to, after all, at least to bid farewell to the guests.

AU - MAGNI & LAKSHMI

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