Disclaimer - I do not own the rights to Baldur's Gate I ToTSC or BGII SoA or ToB. I do however own my Bhaalspawn and any OCs that turn up.

Romance - Xan

Author's notes - Strictly speaking, I've written this before. However it was a multi-chapter story that I had neither the time, nor the inspiration to work on. Instead I re-wrote it as a one-shot. It's based on a line said by Xan in the tutu romance mod. (The one in the summary)

I may write a multi-chapter sequel, set during BG2, since I prefer writing for the second game.

I may have tweaked the dialogue a bit. (I must stop writing when It's nearly midnight and I'm half asleep.)

Few people glanced up as the doors of the inn swung open, one lone young man practically falling through them in his hurry to get out of the heavy rain that was besieging the world outside. Shivering slightly, the stranger parted the curtain of dripping wet hair that obscured his face, tucking it behind his pointed ears; which, he noted grimly, were red and sore from the cold.

Sighing, the elf began to trudge across the floor of the tavern, accidentally leaving a small, shallow river in his wake. He winced slightly and grimaced apologetically as the barmaid sent him a withering look as she moved to fetch a cloth.

The innkeeper looked him up and down warily before giving him a brief curt nod of acknowledgement as he approached.

'Watcha want?' he asked gruffly, as he picked up a grimy tankard and began to clean it with a cloth that looked even dirtier than the tankard itself.

'An affordable room and-' the stranger winced as the innkeeper spat into the tankard before continuing to clean it. 'And a drink.'

Seldarine knew he needed one right now.

'Ah, not that one, please,' he added cringing in disgust as the innkeeper moved to fill the glass that he'd just spat into. The human man scowled at him before turning to fetch a new one.

'Bloody sissy elves...' he grumbled as he filled a slightly less grimy tankard with ale. Turning around the man slammed the tankard onto the bar. 'Yer in room 9, its at the end of the hall upstairs, so ye'd have to be blind to miss it. Now push off, I've work to do.'

Sighing again (something that seemed to be an increasingly common habit for the man) the elf gingerly took his tankard and moved to sit at the nearest empty table.

A sense of loneliness and longing overcame him as he glanced at his surroundings. It seemed that still after all these years the world beyond his homeland remained a foreign oddity. The humans, their customs and their (lack of) manners... He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as visions of the Greycloak hills filled his mind, bringing with them an intense sensation of homesickness.

Sighing for the hundredth time that evening, the elf studied his drink with distaste, barely noticing as somebody sat across the table from him.

'You stare at your tankard as if it was filled with poison.'

The elf started as a woman's voice registered in his ears, thick with an exotic accent. Lifting his head up, he came face to face with a middle aged human woman. Her skin was a shade of brown that spoke of many years travelling beneath the sun. Elaborate gold jewellery could be found on almost any part of her body that was not wrapped in colourful pattered silk, and she wore a wide, enigmatic smile on her lined face.

The young man coughed slightly as the heavy scent of spice and incense wafted over to him.

'It might as well be, from the looks of it,' he said sullenly, once again giving the tankard a suspicious glance.

The woman laughed in response, leaning forward she took hold of his spare hand, her dark eyes scrutinizing his palm, bangles chiming as she moved. 'Such delicate fingers you have,' she noted absently, ignoring the frown on the elf's face as she invaded his private space.

The frown quickly morphed into a disturbed expression however, when she next spoke

'One day,' she said casually. 'You will gladly be drinking from a poisoned goblet.'

'What?'

'You will pour poison into your goblet and drink it laughing, for you will love Murder above all else.'

The elf stared at her, disturbed and horrified by what the woman implied. 'I- You-' he swallowed. Was this woman trying to imply that he would become a madman or a serial killer of some sort? It was true, the way his life was going, sanity seemed to be a commodity that was in increasingly short supply... but...

'Excuse me, I must be taking my leave now,' he said, pushing away from the table and practically running away, not even glancing back at the woman.

It was nothing to worry about, he tried to reassure himself as he hurried towards his room. She was probably just a fake diviner, there were plenty of those around after all...

Back at the abandoned table, the woman picked up the elf's abandoned drink and began to sip at it absentmindedly, the enigmatic smile still in place. 'Do you understand the true meaning of my words?' she murmured to nobody in particular. 'I wonder, Xan of Evereska...'

'Mmm... such lovely, delicate figers...'

Xan sighed in exhasperation as he felt her slim, dainty fingers curl around his own.

'You remind me of a Roma woman who told me that I would "pour poison into my goblet and drink it laughing, for I would love Murder above all else". I am glad to say she was mistaken but...' the enchanter trailed off with a sigh, noticing that his companion had fallen asleep again. 'But you are not even listening to me, so I shall not bother to continue.'

The elf shook his head in disbelief as he examined the young woman currently sleeping in his arms, her small, warm hand curled around his own. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered how she had appeared in his dreams only moments ago, her formerly-bright eyes glazed over in death and boring accusingly into his soul from where she lay, crumpled and motionless on the bloodied ground.

He had woken with a start, soaked to the bone by cold sweat, and oh, how his heart had nearly stopped when he saw her lying only a few feet away, unmoving.

He felt his cheeks reddening as he remembered how he had rushed over to her in a panic, lifting her into his arms and desperately checking her vital signs. It was horrifically embarassing now. Of course she had only been sleeping! Sighing yet again, he frowned at her, deliberately ignoring the way his heart seemed to skip a beat when he saw her lovely face, a small, sleepy smile on her lips.

He had found himself becoming increasingly irrational and easily distracted since this young woman came into his life. Frequently forgetting to prepare his spells in favour of watching her prepare her own, enthralled by the way she seemed to tug at her wild fiery hair in frustration. Always distracted by her smile, and the way her cheeks creased into adorable dimples, and the way her pale, silvery eyes glitter with mischief like starlight...

Oh, Seldarine, now he was writing poetry about her, he realised with a groan. This woman; no, this girl, was going to be the absolute death of him. He had seen many women more beautiful, more talented, more intelligent, more graceful, more... everything than this girl, and yet in mere weeks it seemed that she had become his entire world, filling his mind at every turn. She was a dangerous distraction, he reminded himself firmly, and if this kept up he would lead both of them to their doom.

You will love murder above all else... Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about that, he decided sourly. His obsession with this girl hardly left room for an obsession with murder.

Yet again he sighed as he roused the girl from her sleep yet again, the seer's ominous words lingering at the back of his mind.

It would only be later that same day, when their little group was gathered in the late Gorion's study, that the full meaning of the seer's prophecy would dawn upon him, when they were gathered in the late mage's study listening to his last words being read out to them in a trembling, broken voice.

That was the day he walked away from her, swearing never to think of her again, even as their shared memories chased his heels.

But even later still to come was the day when he would discover that fate is not a force so easily escaped.

I tried to make the ending a little clearer and less jumbled up this time.

Feel free to critique, but at least give an opinion on the one-shot drabble-y thing? (Incidentally, my use of ' ' and " " is not incorrect. It's British grammar.)