This is my first shot at writing a fanfic of clickable slashy goodness. Enjoy.

A mind away from truth

By: Berg'inyon Baenre-Senshi

Artemis Entreri raised the jewelled dagger in his hand far above his head, then brought it down in a stab that cut into the halfling's flesh. Dondon Tiggerwillies flailed his fat arms about in his death throes, seeking an escape from the inevitable.

The dagger refused to stop, though, it was an entity seeking only one ultimatum: Dondon's death. Entreri raised the dagger again, but stopped. Instead of an obese halfling, there was a drow with a bald scalp, and an eyepatch that covered one of two unseeing eyes.

Entreri, the hunter, sayer of hundreds, dropped his dagger as an emotion he had ne'er felt before surged through him. He felt fear, loss, and sadness all at the same time. He screamed an unearthly scream as the blood on his hands darkened to become the blood of Jarlaxle Bregan D'aerthe.

That scream ended rather abruptly as Entreri sat bolt upright, and in so doing, whacking his forehead on the ceiling of his and Jarlaxle's room in the Copper Ante. Designed for halflings, the ceiling was only four feet up, with a bed that was far too short, even for Entreri's small, powerful frame.

Taking more care this time, he sat up and looked across the room to the other bed. Jarlaxle lay in it, snoring softly. Entreri chuckled, and maybe even blushed, but quickly shook it off. He was an assassin! A master of the silent killing arts!

He had no room for emotion, let alone for someone of the same gender. However, no matter how many times he told himself that, Entreri couldn't shake the feeling that he loved Jarlaxle.

It wasn't a love like what he had experienced towards some tavern wenches, but a love that he felt would last more than one night, possibly for the remainder of Entreri's comparitavley short life. He quickly dismissed that notion though.

He'd have to keep his feelings from Jarlaxle.

Entreri stumbled down the stairs of the Copper Ante, still a bit groggy from sleep. He dropped onto one of the bar stools, which promptly broke as a result of his being far too big.

Entreri wearily stood up, looked at the barkeep, and spoke: "Get me a bottle of your finest brandy," he said.

A melodic voice floated out from behind him, "Good morning, Artemis. I had no idea you drank hard liquor."

Entreri turned around, a bottle of Cormyr brandy in hand. "Dwahvel," he muttered as he spied the female halfling that had become his only friend. Entreri swigged the liquor, and winced at the burning sensation going down his throat.

"You are right, my dear Dwahvel," the assassin mumbled. "Shall I tell you in private?" And with that, Dwahvel gestured to the very room where Dondon had been forced to live as a result of a death threat... that is until Entreri had ended the pitiful creature's life.

Entreri took another gulp of liquor, and walked in behind Dwahvel. No more half eaten food or voloptuous halfling females lay strewn about the area, only soft, colorful cushions lay where all that had been. The dream flashed back to him, where he had stabbed Jarlaxle with the fiend dagger that rested oh-so-comfortably on his belt.

He barely cared, though, as the liquor surging through his veins and made him see an array of blue dots flash before his eyes. Entreri flopped onto a cushion, and told Dwahvel about the dream.

When he stopped, Entreri's bottle was empty, and Dwahvel had a stunned look on her face. "Well," she said abruptly, after a long silence. "You are: A. twisted. And B. gay."

Entreri turned his head to Dwahvel, with his eyelids drooping, and a slight blush on his cheeks. "Is that bad?" He asked. Dwahvel hung her head low, "It depends on how you look at it. In your case, I'm saying no. You just keep quiet about this."

"Ummmmmmm... a'ight," Entreri said, and left the room.

Jarlaxle was woken up from a scary dream involving a rothé ham and his sister Quenthel by a thud in his room. He sat bolt upright, hitting his bald head on the cieling, and saw Entreri snoring softly on the floor.

Jarlaxle got out of bed, walked over to Entreri, and poked him a few times. Entreri was making odd noises anyhow, "zzzzzzz... beaverzzzzzzzz..." Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, having no idea whar beavers were, and shook Entreri awake.

Entreri opened his eyes halfway, and sat up. Only then did he realize that Entreri was drunk, but even then, he didn't expect what happened next.

Entreri grabbed the front of Jarlaxle's shirt, pulled him close, and kissed him.

Jarlaxle freaked out. Maybe this was a dream within a dream invoked by the magical rothé ham and Quenthel. But how in all of Faèrun would Quenthel and an inanimate piece of meat that had no brain whatsoever know what Entreri looked like?

Besides, as far as he could tell, Quenthel was killed in the tail end of the fight with clan Battlehammer, along with his mother and at least one more of his sisters. The ham was dead anyways, so why the hell was he thinking about it?!

That thought was ended as Jarlaxle felt somthing squirming around inside his mouth. "Oh my god," he thought, "Is this his tounge?!" Jarlaxle became even more worried as Entreri rolled him onto his back.

Entreri leaned close, licked Jarlaxle's pointy ear, and whispered, "You know that I like it on top." Entreri then proceeded to drag his tounge across Jarlaxle's face, down to his lips, where he nearly sucked them off in a wet kiss.

Jarlaxle, rather frantically, brought his left leg up to his chest in a limber move that no normal human could have pulled off. He pushed with all his might, and eventually managed to shove the eager assassin off of him.

The plan worked perfectly, except there was a crunch of bone, and Jarlaxle knew he had shattered the tip of Entreri's sternum. Entreri went flying, and landed on his back, twitching. Jarlaxle rushed over to the prone form of his partner in crime, and saw his lips coated in a thick coating of blood, with more coming out with each of Entreri's heaving breaths.

Jarlaxle panicked. He rushed to the corner of the room where his hat hung on a peg. He tore a loose flap of cloth from the flamboyant headpiece, and reached inside. He had to throw a wand of fireball, a fake wand, and cloning wand about the room before he found the wand of restoration.

Jarlaxle walked over to the near dead form of Artemis Entreri, pointed the wand at him, and spoke the activation word for the most powerful charm in the wand. A few blue sparks shot from the tip of the fleshy wand, shooting down Entreri's throat and into where Jarlaxle had kicked him.

The blush on Entreri's faded, and his eyes popped wide open. A few minutes after the magic had run it's course, Entreri sat up. He looked at Jarlaxle, and saw that his partner had one eyebrow raised in a skeptical look. Entreri stammered, "Did I...? To you?" He kept asking Jarlaxle questions about whilst he was drunk, and Jarlaxle confirmed his fears.

"Well, if you kicked me off, you mustn't want me. I shall go and pa-" but he was cut short by Jarlaxle pressing their lips to one another's. Jarlaxle pulled back, stroked Entreri's cheek, and said, "Who would want someone who was drunk?"

They smiled, kissed again, and put the two beds in the room together as they should've always been.

Epilouge

Jarlaxle was the first of the new couple to wake up. He looked at his lover, then at the bite mark on his own shoulder. He sighed, "Artemis, you really put the 'ass' into assassin."

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