A/N: Similar backstory for Khalid and Jaheira is in the BG1 NPC Project.

—

Mirtul, the Melting

It'd been a year since they were married. Two years since she rescued him from a Zhentish torture cell.

Khalid practiced his sword in the early mornings. Jaheira didn't think he knew that she knew. He was so secretive about it when he first started, as though he thought she would be angry at him for beginning too soon and interrupting the healing.

She fretted about him, but it was foolish to keep anyone from a thing they loved.

Jaheira went out before sunrise, to prowl the forest in bear's form and hunt for meat. She returned to the hut earlier than her husband knew, watching him from the narrow window. Khalid was stripped to the waist, sweat gleaming on his brown skin in the sun. His red hair was tied into a ponytail, growing wild and untamed. The sword was an old one, once belonging to some brigand. It was well oiled and sharpened, and shone silver in the morning light.

Khalid was diffident and stammering in speech, hesitant and stumbling over himself, but when he held a sword he changed. Jaheira was taught how to use a heavy oak staff to crack heads and brains as quickly as possible, but Khalid used a sword like a musician his instrument. There was grace in it, crafted by a deft precision. The tip of the blade flashed forward, the same movement repeated until perfected. His corded muscles played against each other below his skin. Jaheira also saw the white line of one of the old scars she hadn't been able to heal, stretching down below Khalid's hip. She knew what the Zhentarim torturers had done to him.

Khalid swept his sword into a dazzling whirl. The blade's gleam seemed to Jaheira to trace the petals of a pomegranate flower. She would not tell him yet, but she was glad for his joy.

She would not think about the future. With Silvanus' blessing she and her husband would stay in their quiet retreat for a long time still. She needed to be certain Khalid was well. Jaheira had never been so much at peace in her life.

Khalid laid down the sword, and went to find the shovel instead. He sung under his breath, digging the latrine.

Jaheira was dressing the rabbits when she heard Khalid's cry of surprise. It was lucky that the thick oak broom was within her reach.

—

"W-welcome back, old friend," Khalid offered. Since there were only two chairs in the hut, he hovered behind the man's back. "What b-brings you here?"

The mage Gorion wore a Harper pin, the same as they had left back on a shelf somewhere. Jaheira had retired them so that Khalid could heal, but they had not taken the time to return their organisation's symbol. Those who Harp, those who seek to restore balance to the world, those who act quietly in secret harmony.

Gorion had grown older. His beard was whiter than ever, and there were a few more lines around his eyes than the last they'd seen him, but for a human and for a mage he still moved incredibly quietly. His wrists were thinner, his robes hung very loosely on him and were torn and dirtied more than usual for the forest, and he sat down as if something weighed heavily on his mind.

"Out with your reason, Gorion," Jaheria said, "Silvanus knows you haven't come out of simple friendship."

Harper trouble, she knew that. Whether it was Harper trouble she and Khalid ought to drag themselves into remained to be seen. It had not been so long; her Khalid needed more time to heal. They were happy here. Why should Gorion come to them now?

"Da? Can Thea come out now?" a childish voice asked, buried somewhere in the depths of Gorion's robes.

Jaheira realised that this form of trouble would be completely new.

—

"I want you to come with me. No, I need you to come with me," Gorion said. His eyes were tired, very tired, and absent-mindedly let the toddler tug on his beard. "I fought four Eldreth Veluuthra on my way here. I doubt they're the only group after me."

The child was called Theodora, a human name, and yet she had elvish ears. Fullblooded, from her looks, with delicate bones and green eyes. Tight black curls sprung from her head. Jaheira would have guessed her to be ten or fifteen years old.

"What have you done, Gorion?" Jaheira demanded. "Did you steal this child?"

"J-jaheira!" Khalid choked out a protest.

"No one else wants her. The elven lands drove her out. Old allies refuse me. There is no safe place on earth, not for her."

The Eldreth Veluuthra were terrorists, but they didn't fight against full blooded elves. They hated elven blood mingling with other races, such as Khalid and Jaheira.

"You want our help, Gorion, and I don't know that we can give it," Jaheira said. It was hard to be stern in front of the child, but she managed it. "The least you can do is tell us what is wrong."

Khalid offered the child a cup of water, but she pushed it away, giggling as she splashed him. Not disheartened, he searched for the last of the dried apricots.

"She's a ... Her mother was of Suldanessellar. A friend of mine," Gorion said. "But she is now dead. She told me to take care of Thea. Even the Queen cannot protect her."

"From what, Gorion?" Jaheira asked sharply.

Khalid had managed to tear the apricots into fine strips, and laid them out in a star shape on the rough wooden plate. This time, it seemed to please the child. She laughed and took a bite.

"From the Eldreth Veluuthra. From Deathstalker warriors and Zhents. From the Twisted Rune. From paladins and knights in a holy war. From other Harpers," Gorion said.

He was an archmage. Jaheira first met him when she was barely even a druid. But he was shaken and afraid as he asked for help. And his child understood none of it, her face sticky with apricots.

"Thea is a daughter of Bhaal, God of Death," Gorion muttered. "Help me find a safe place to keep her."

—

"If you've led Eldreth Veluuthra or worse to our doorstep, I won't forgive you," Jaheira said. She'd set nature's wards on their home, while they talked about what to do next.

The Lord of Murder roamed the earth in mortal form, raped women of all races, and forced them to give birth. The Harpers didn't know the reason why. Deathstalker cultists were then placed in charge of sacrificing many such children. Theodora was an elven child, daughter of Ellesime's great-niece, and even her homeland was not safe for her. This was the only Bhaalchild Gorion was able to save.

"She's three years old," Gorion said. No wonder people thought the baby unnatural! Half-elves grew more slowly than humans, and full bloods slower still. Elves must see her as a monster.

"Then you must take her to human lands," Jaheira said. "They will notice less. You should find some ignorant village."

"I can eat my toe!" Theodora said to Khalid, or at least, Jaheira guessed that was what she said. If she was a daughter of Bhaal, then she was unnatural; Jaheira's druid training taught her to sense such things. The toddler stuck her bare foot into her mouth.

"We left active duty, Gorion, and we are not archmages," Jaheira said. "I protect this forest from bandits and foresters. That is enough."

I protect Khalid, for I know better than anyone else that he still wakes up screaming from what they did to him, she thought. Where he went, there she would go.

Gorion knew her meaning: that she would not help. His face fell. But Khalid was by her side, touching her shoulder.

"Jaheira," he said, "we are g-going with Gorion ... we are to find this child a home."

And after that, there was little choice.

Let us hope, Jaheira thought, that this child does not prove the death of us.

—

In Mirtul, the Melting, Gorion and his friends left on a journey to find a safe home for the Child of Bhaal.

Jaheira offered Theodora her forefinger. Over Khalid's shoulder, the child laughed.

—