!!DISCLAIMER!! I don't own Neverwinter Nights 2 in any way, shape, or form. Like I always say, sometimes it's fun to take someone else's car out for a spin. Please don't sue me, Bioware! They say imitation is the best form of flattery!

!!SPOILER ALERT!! This fic will undoubtedly refer to events in the plot that will spoil the game for those who have not finished. I just wanted to make sure I gave ample warning, because personally I hate being unintentionally spoiled. :(

NWN2 was a good game. Great even! Some of the game (especially the characters and the romances!) really needed some fleshing out. Casavir was such a great character – so much potential! His angst with Bishop was delicious. I couldn't pass up the oppourtunity to write more. So here is the result of my ruminations. Thanks and enjoy!

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It was the first time I noticed him. I mean truly noticed him.

I was staring into the tall, licking flames of the candles and resting my body weight on the railing before the altar, my arms hugging my shoulders. I was too jumpy to rest in the pew behind me. My mind was spinning in circles as I attended to my vigil in the church in Neverwinter. I was supposed to be "purifying" myself, asking for forgiveness for my transgressions, invoking Tyr to forgive me should I kill Lorne in the coming hours.

I really was not asking for forgiveness this night. I tried, all the time, to live the good life, to put everyone else before myself. What sins did I have to forgive? Instead, for my vigil, I was asking for Tyr to guide my hand, to protect me. To keep me from death.

In short, I was afraid. I was deathly afraid. There were few bouts during my days in the West Harbor militia that compared to the raw, primal fear I was experiencing this night. The fear was so strong that I felt it like a claw pressing into the base of my neck and piercing into the tender flesh in the rear of my throat. I, too, remembered Lorne from those days in West Harbor –- he was so small and defenseless then, the son of a simple farmer. But now, he had grown into a hulking beast of a man.

I saw his intense visage after Lord Nasher declared my innocence. He stood, challenging me personally when he offered to duel as Torio's fighter in the ring as an appeal Nasher's declaration of my innocence of the massacre in Ember. The bloodlust and evil burned brighter in Lorne's eyes than the flames of the white candles on the altar before me – and it did not take a paladin to see his anger and his desire to spill my blood and organs into the sand in the combat ring.

Watching the flames of the candles dance in the quiet chill of the church air calmed my discontented soul minutely. I believed there was no way I could defeat the man tomorrow. Sure – I had fought off gith, lizardfolk, bandits, and other savage monstrosities to get this far, but the difference was that I had done them with the full support of my companions. This vigil gave me a chance to consider strategy and accept the fact there was a fair chance I might not make it out of that ring, least of all in one piece. If Luskan was going to such great lengths to bury me, underestimating them now at this late hour would land me only six feet underneath the soil.

I was not afraid to die. I just hoped it might be later rather than sooner.

"Forgive me," he started, his voice was dripping with respect, only barely audible, "I did not mean to disturb the Rites," he whispered with extreme politeness, as if his mere presence here was blasphemous.

I was so lost in my dark thoughts and the bright candle flames I never heard my fellow paladin companion enter the church, or come to my side. I had no idea how long he had been standing there. He was not looking at me then; instead he, too, was gazing almost desperately at the statues on the altar, as if he was offering up silent prayers of his own.

Turning my head, my eyes shot from the candles to his steely blue irises. I watched him intently and felt my heart beat a handful of times. When his gaze moved off the statues and matched mine, I felt like I needed to say something, lest be offensive to him.

His lips were pursed and there were shallow lines of worry in his handsome visage. I was accustomed to those lines because I grew quite prolific in noticing them in my foster father's face, even though he went to incredible lengths to hide them. I went to open my mouth to say something to ease the paladin, but he continued first.

"I was troubled. I thought by perhaps seeking you out, I could help somehow."

I began to wonder what might be troubling him so, to bring him to the church and interrupting my most sacred and traditional vigil. I figured that maybe he, too, was a bit preoccupied worrying about the upcoming duel.

I dismissed the though and quickly chastised myself for assuming anything and being so self-centered. It was not as though I was the first to ever fight this battle for freedom, cleric Hlam made that perfectly clear.

I inhaled a breath and asked him, "Why are you here?" my voice also a bit of a whisper. I was supposed to hold my vigil in solitude, and I was afraid the clerics would discover us and remove my companion. His presence here gave me an outlet for a conversation and I knew that right now it would be the perfect thing to clear my head of my fear.

His face was unreadable then. "I know something of knightly combat, more so than your opponent, I suspect." He paused for a beat. "Are you familiar with the etiquette of the duel?"

The only etiquette I could figure was that this would be a fight to the death. I figured that this basically equated to a lack of rules, but an abundance of ferocity -- and the desire to come out on top by any means necessary.

"Any weapons or spells are permitted in the arena -- each combatant is expected to fight to the best of their ability, with all the resources at their disposal," he fleshed out, giving speech to my assumptions.

I felt the need to speak up again, "Anything else?" I answered dumbly, immediately regretting the harshness that edged into my voice, still trying to clear my foggy mind and put my fearful thoughts aside.

He nodded once, his voice still low but serious and commanding, "Do not yield to Lorne - if there is a chance you can still win, keep fighting, for Lorne will not accept your surrender. Lorne's strength is in close combat - as such, there is no dishonor in keeping him beyond arm's reach."

He was making small talk to ease me. Still, I rolled that thought around in my mouth for a few moments. Fight at a distance, hm? I suddenly wanted to kick myself for not paying better attention to my foster father's attempts to teach me better archery techniques. Then, my adoration had been for the longsword, not the bow and arrow.

I looked away from the paladin, my hand coming up to my chin as I began seriously contemplating carrying a bow and quiver into the ring. I was not totally satisfied that my archery skills would be sufficient to bring the formidable man to his knees.

As I stared into nothingness, trapped by my thoughts once again, the paladin quietly cleared his throat. "And if you do not wish to face him, know that I will gladly serve as your champion," he suggested, his voice sounding slightly embarrassed.

That was the moment I first noticed him. I mean truly noticed him.

Our eyes met. I saw the concern and yearning behind his blue eyes. It was the first time I actually looked at Casavir and appreciated him as a man and a friend, and not just a fellow paladin. I was touched by his offer, truly. I was touched that he would offer to put himself into harm's way for me. No one ever had done that for me in the past.

But… I should have expected that from him. That is the paladin's bane, why we exist at all. There were plenty of times I put myself into bad situations for my friends and acquaintances in West Harbor because I felt it was my duty and responsibility to protect those who could not protect themselves.

But did he say he would "gladly" serve as my champion? That was taking it another step. I was touched so deeply to the core, I did not know how to answer him. I could not actually let him possibly die for me, but the idea of sending his superior battle expertise into the ring gave me pause and warmed my skin.

"—if you would permit me," he finished, his embarrassment becoming more evident in his face apparently at my silence.

"You would fight in my place?" I asked, feeling a blush creeping up from my stomach into my neck.

"It is not beyond the rules."

That was true. I could not argue that point.

I was not even really thinking at that moment, my mind spinning once more, "If you wish to fight in my place, I'd be… honored," I blurted out.

He smiled slightly at me then. That was the moment I began appreciating him then as less a paladin and a teacher and more as a man –- an attractive man who was willing to stand up for me to all of Neverwinter, and we had only known each other for a short time, a couple of weeks at best. I studied his face; after feeling the blush rise into my cheeks because of my own embarrassment, I slowly traced my gaze down to his chin, his neck, then his muscular shoulders. Then I found a dimple in the fabric of his shirt and fixed my bashful gaze there, forcing myself to focus on something other than the soft skin showing between the v-cut of neck his tunic.

It was then I began to first notice those feelings towards him, those feelings of adoration in my heart and fluttering in my belly. I felt so foolish, telling myself I was feeling this only because he was going to fight as my champion tomorrow morning.

My champion… I repeated a few times in my mind, enjoying the sound of it.

The silence between us then was not awkward, but it was easily to discern how abashed each of us was. I felt that any words I could speak then would only have cheapened the moment, and I was proved correct when he brought his hand to clasp the back of my elbow.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, considering I have only watched him beat our enemies senseless in the past few weeks with his mace. Although his touch was only a gesture of peace and friendship, I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated him. I wanted him to know that I appreciated his time, his company, his lessons, his visit this night, and especially his willingness to defend me. I did not know how to say all of this in a meaningful way and not sound like the child that I felt I was.

Behind us, I heard Hlam shuffling around the church, muttering to himself, probably coming to check on me and make sure I had not fallen asleep. This broke the spell between us. Casavir heard the disturbance as well, looking in the direction of the door knowing he would soon be caught.

As his eyes returned to mine, he smiled –- genuinely and knowingly, as if all the things I wanted to tell him were written across my face like a page in a book. I simply returned the smile, feeling my embarrassment melting away as I beamed up at him.

He began pulling away to head for the door and leave, as to not make it seem like we had broken the seclusion rites of my purification ritual. His fingers left my elbow, and then traced down my arm to my fingertips, where they lingered for a few fleeting moments. Then, he turned around, heading for the door, and quietly slipped away in one swift motion.

I stood, watching the door in breathless silence. Hlam shuffled around in the background of the church, his movements an echo. My thoughts were moving away from their earlier darkness and instead onto the paladin that was becoming my ray of light.

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A/N: I plan to keep going, but I have to go to work. :( Please feel free to leave any constructive feedback! Will continue so stay tuned!