Author's Note:

So is this where I tell everybody I don't own nwn2? It'd be pretty cool if I did but, sadly, nope; none of the characters or places involved in this game were my creation. Brin, however, is all mine. I've tried to make her likable and realistic, without broaching Mary-Sue territory or becoming a cliche.

About the story itself- the idea of this came years ago when I was replaying the NWN2 campaign with the addition of Domi Sotto's 'Bishop Romance' mod. I enjoyed it quite a bit, and I highly recommend the mod to any Bishop fans out there. Anywho, I began wondering how a relationship between Bishop, arrogant a-hole that he is, and a sweet, 'small-town girl' type of protagonist would realistically develop. I was discussing this concept with a friend, who said something rather thought-provoking. I can't remember her exact wording, but it was something along the lines of; "The scary thing about guys like Bishop is that they're real. There are actual Bishops out there- manipulative, selfish, just want to sleep with you and tell their friends about it, only they aren't as obvious about it. And with guys like that, how can you tell they aren't just playing you? How do you know they really care?" And that question sparked a whole story-line that will, hopefully in part, offer an interesting Bishop-based answer to that question.

So that's a little insight into how and why I started writing this story, several years ago. I intended this to be primarily a Bishop romance. However, as some of you know, I took a very long- unintentional- haitus from writing. I have started up again, to my great joy, but I have a few new thoughts on how exactly I want this to play out. Make no mistake, this is still a Bishop romance. However... without giving away too much, I will say that I have always know exactly how I want this story to play out. There are specific scenes that have been written for years (and had to be re-written due to some computer issues, but that's neither here nor there), and before I even started writing the first chapter I already knew exactly what would be in the last chapter. So although the basic plot still stands, I now find myself appreciating the Casavir character even more than when I first played the game as a teenager. Now, as an adult, I find myself wanting the 'good guy' to... well, not win, but also to not lose. So, as I am re-writing and updating, I find myself wanting to include Casavir a bit more. Hopefully any readers who are fans of his will be satisfied with his character development, face-time, story arch, and the relationship that develops between him and Brin.

For those of you who read this years ago when it was first published and are re-reading now as the updates come- thank you, and I apologize wholeheartedly for the wait! Hopefully I will deliver an enjoyable, fun, and ultimately satisfying story. As I add new chapters I am also editing and re-writing bits of old ones, so I encourage anyone who enjoyed the story the first time around to check each chapter as it gets an update (identifiable by the inclusion of a chapter title).

Now, with all of that said... enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Sunken Flagon

"Please tell me it's not much farther, Brin!"

"It's not much farther," I replied automatically, without turning to face Neeshka. My voice was mild, but to be honest I was nearly as anxious to return to The Sunken Flagon as she was. We'd been traveling through orc-infested mountains for nearly two weeks, and I for one couldn't wait to collapse in the nice, comfy bed my Uncle Duncan had provided for me.

I had just entered a beautiful fantasy where nothing but me, that bed, and an enormous but beginner-friendly spellbook existed in the entire world when our newest member's voice broke into the daydream.

"I believe Neverwinter is no more than a few hours' walk from here, Neeshka," Casavir said politely, and I glanced back at him with an approving look. At first I'd been a bit nervous about bringing him along- not because of his personality or skill in battle, both of which were impeccable from what I could tell. No, I'd been worried about having a paladin- holy warrior, fights for good and justice, all that stuff- in close vicinity with Neeshka. I didn't know much about tieflings, and if they tended to have her personality then I had nothing against them, but I did know that people with demon's blood tended to be looked down upon by holy warriors. Casavir didn't seem to be planning to attack her any time soon, though, which I took as a positive sign. He and the tiefling weren't exactly best buds, and they tended to walk at opposite ends of our little group, but they had both made an effort to act civilly throughout the journey. Neeshka claimed that being close to the paladin made her skin itch; other than that one complaint, though, the two had gotten along just fine. "We should reach it by supper."

"Oh, great!" she sounded relieved. "I'd give anything for a real bed and a hot meal right now!"

"And a mug or two o' Duncan's finest!" Khelgar joined in the conversation, his beard bobbing up and down with every step. "Though his finest ain't exactly… er, the finest. No offense, lass," he added, glancing towards me, "But we dwarves prefer our ale a bit stronger than what yer uncle can brew."

I snorted and gave my head a little shake. "None taken."

Grobnar, who had been walking almost at my side and humming happily, also had something to say. "I myself am quite excited to see your uncle's establishment, Lady Brin." I smiled a bit at his little nickname for me. I'd told him at least ten time to just call me 'Brin,' but he seemed intent on using the more formal title. "I certainly hope your uncle is not opposed to having a bard such as myself present! Why, I could even serenade you all when you retire to bed!"

"No music at night, gnome," Khelgar growled.

"Yeah," I didn't have to turn around to know that Neeshka was grinning as she teased, "It tends to give Stumpy terrible nightmares."

Khelgar growled again at that, and I heard Casavir chuckle. It was the closest sound to laughter I'd heard him make, and I couldn't help but think that it was… well, a surprisingly pleasant sound. Deep and rumbling, like a friendly earthquake. I grinned at the thought.

They continued with banter and good-natured ribbing, and I re-entered my bed-and-book fantasy. I had just nestled in to the fluffy, imaginary pillows, and was about to open to the first page when-

"My lady?"

My head snapped up from its near-dozing position, swiveled to face the paladin who was now walking beside me, and… and I remembered why I shouldn't daydream while walking. My foot hit a rather large rock, Casavir's face spun wildly for a moment, and then I was face-down on the path.

"My lady! Are you-"

"Fine, great, never better!" I hopped up, brushing dirt from my robes and avoiding his concerned gaze. "I did that on purpose, actually." Not exactly a convincing cover-up. I flushed, aware that I was a terrible liar. And couldn't paladins always tell, somehow, when people were lying? Drat.

After a quick scan to make sure I was uninjured, his lips twitched in amusement. "Did you?"

I continued walking, looking straight ahead and trying to control my rapidly heating face. "Yes. Yes I did."

He chuckled lightly again and I shot him an abashed look. "You sort of caught me in the middle of a daydream. Not a good thing to do while walking, I know."

"Perhaps, but the fault is partially mine."

I peered up at him, squinting against the sunlight and mentally wishing that I was taller. Or that he was shorter. "Huh?

He glanced down, black hair stark against the fluffy white cloud that, from my angle, framed his head. "I startled you. Forgive me."

"Oh, it's fine. I'm jumpy all the time, it's not your fault."

"The lass ain't jokin', lad," Khelgar said from behind us. "She 'bout nearly roasted me beard off, first time I woke her up."

I wasn't exactly a morning person. "Yeah… um, I'm still very, very sorry about that."

"Heh," he waved a hand and grinned. "Ain't no problem, lass. Me beard's intact, an' that's all an honest dwarf can ask for."

Neeshka rolled her eyes. "I can think of a few more things you might want to ask for, stumpy. A few more inches, for one thing."

"Hey! I'm a perfectly fine height!"

"For a barrel-headed dwarf, maybe."

I tuned them out and looked back at Casavir. "Was there something you wanted to ask me, Sir?"

"'Sir?'" He raised an eyebrow curiously. "There is no need for such formalities, my lady."

"Oh. Sorry." I furrowed my brow in thought. "A priest once told me that paladins should always be addressed with the highest regard, though."

"You needn't apologize. And yes, it is customary for paladins to be addressed by their full titles, but we are comrades, and such formalities are now unnecessary." I nodded in understanding and he continued, "Who was this priest, if I may ask?"

"Brother Merring, a cleric of Lathander. We didn't really have temples or churches or anything in West Harbor, and he was the only priest."

"West Harbor? I have heard of that Mere village, though I know little about it. I did not know you originated there."

"Oh, yeah. I grew up there, and only left it recently, in fact." I perked up at the chance to talk about West Harbor- I missed it's safety and simplicity, and talking about it was a welcome distraction.

"You left it, you say? Why?"

Oh boy, now that would take some time to get into. But if he was going to be travelling with us- which I definitely wasn't opposed to, since he still didn't seem like he was planning to attack Neeshka any time soon- then he would need to know exactly what he'd be getting into. My story was a bit unusual, after all; it's not every day your hometown is attacked and you're sent off on a perilous mission by your foster father, hunted by strange creatures along the way. I launched into the tale, more than willing to tell him about the Harvest Fair, the attack, the shard, and everything that had happened since then.

Before I knew it Neverwinter's gates were looming on the path ahead, and I could practically feel those fluffy white pillows…

"This is my Uncle Duncan's inn, the Sunken Flagon," I explained to Casavir and Grobnar as we approached the establishment. It was all I could do not to sprint ahead and dive through the door.

"It looks simply marvelous!" Grobnar beamed happily, fingering his lute. "And I can't help but notice that there's no music coming from inside! It's a good thing you came across me when you did, Lady Brin! After all, what's an inn without a bard to play in it?"

"Why, it's not an inn at all, Grobnar," I agreed, shooting Neeshka a grin. She rolled her eyes as I hurried towards the door. It wasn't so much the inn itself I loved, but the welcoming arms of my uncle. And the fact that, while in the Sunken Flagon, I didn't have to worry about what might try to eat me in my sleep or how bloodstained I would get the next day.

We reached the door and were practically overwhelmed by the cacophony of drunken laughter and yelling coming from inside. I felt a tinge of unease, opened the door, and stopped short; it was packed. Not a single table was devoid of customers, most of them drunk or almost-drunk dockworkers.

The laughter had been cause by Qara, who seemed to have dumped a brimming mug over the head of a too-friendly man. The laughter at his expense was soon replaced by angry, impatient cries for food or drink, and Qara stomped away.

Duncan, looking particularly frazzled, was pouring drinks as fast as he could manage, and Sal was rapidly fixing dinner plates for the angry patrons. I weaved through the crowd, my companions behind me, and approached the bar.

"Hey, Uncle D!"

"Who in the Nine- oh, lass!" He turned and gave me a tired, but nonetheless bright, grin. "Welcome back, girl! How was- in a minute, damn you!" he snapped at a man who was teetering unsteadily on his bar stool. Duncan turned back to me and wiped some sweat from his brow. "You'll have to tell me about your trip later, Brin. I'm a bit busy here."

"I can see that," I glanced around, feeling a stab of sympathy for him, and offered hesitantly, "Do you need me to help with anything?"

"No no, you don't need to-" he was cut off by Qara. It appeared that she had been fondled by another man and, instead of taking it in a stride like most other serving girls tended to do, she was in the process of threatening to set him on fire. Duncan barked at the girl to get back to work, and I gave a resigned sigh; he obviously needed help, and the only decent thing to do was… well, help him.

"I don't mind, really." That wasn't exactly true- okay, it was a blatant lie- but he seemed relieved that I was offering.

"Well, if you're sure. Maybe your friends could lend a hand, too…"

Neeshka's tail drooped and Khelgar grumbled something under his breath, but neither they nor Casavir offered much complaint and we set about bringing the patrons their orders.

It was tiring and messy work, but it was still better than fighting orcs. It didn't last too long, either- barely fifteen busy minutes had passed before almost everyone had been served.

I was returning a dirty plate to Sal when a large, sweaty hand grabbed my wrist. I glanced down at one of the local dockworkers, drunk and swaying unsteadily in his seat.

"Do you need something?" I asked politely, preparing for the worst.

"Yeah, I wan'… wan'… I wan' shome pie…"

My lips twitched in both amusement and relief. Having relatively boyish figure, and being covered with dirt from the road, I hadn't received nearly as many lecherous grabs or suggestions as poor Neeshka. The few I had received had been unpleasant and embarrassing, though, and I was fed up with them. "You and me both, guy." I gently disentangled my arm. "But how about something to drink instead? Some coffee, maybe?"

He blinked at me and nodded sluggishly, nearly falling off his stool. I lifted his empty mug and headed for Sal, but paused after barely a few steps. The back of my neck was prickling uncomfortably, and I glanced around the room.

My eyes landed on a table near the crackling fireplace, which was only occupied by one man. He was leaning back in his chair, boots propped rudely up on the table, and he was looking at me. He seemed… not quite angry, but close enough to put me on edge. Maybe he was waiting for a drink- a lot of Duncan's customers tended to get irritable when they weren't served right away.

I handed Sal the plates, got the man his promised drink, and headed for the stranger's table. He was still watching me, his yellowish eyes cold, and I felt a bit nervous as I approached.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" My voice sounded meek, even to me, and I cleared it awkwardly.

His eyes left my face and traveled slowly down the length of my body. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering what exactly he was looking at, and he brought his gaze back up to meet mine. The man's mouth curved up into a smirk and he said scornfully, "If I wanted a wench, I'd go to the local brothel."

My mouth dropped open in outrage. Who the hells did he think he was? "Okay, well, fine!" I snapped, "Say hi to your mother while you're there!"

I whirled and stomped off, feeling my face burn with both anger and humiliation. Hearing a drunk tell you how much he wanted to bed you was one thing- hearing how much he didn't want to was much different. And much worse.

Once I reached the bar I sighed, straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin obstinately. His opinion wasn't important, I told myself, he was just some drunk. I resolved to forget the incident, then grabbed a tray from behind the counter and began piling dirty dishes onto it. With any luck, that bed-and-book daydream from earlier would become a very welcome reality before the evening was over.