Wizards of the Coast owns pretty much everything in the Dungeons and Dragons Universe, whether 1st, 2nd, or 3rd edition, whether it's something Gygax would have liked or not. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended. (That last part should be pretty obvious on account of the fact that the story involves magical, fantasy-based creatures.)

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Author's Note: A friend of mine has had some problems with D&D stories lately, so I'm trying to write something he might like. If I had to choose a world, this is Forgotten Realms, though I guess it could work in many places that aren't Krynn.

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The Scorpion and the Frog
by
Nevermore

Cassalianna waited several minutes before emerging from the shadow and stepping into the open. She knew in her heart that she had managed to slip away from her village unseen, but her mind kept cautioning her against overconfidence. You know damn well how quiet our people can be in the forest, she warned herself. Your own brother is a scout leader.

Finally deciding that she was safe, she stepped lightly onto the thin, wispy grass that grew in the shade of the willow tree. The Silverwine brook gurgled happily in front of her, swelled by the spring rains that were only beginning to die off as the heat of summer approached. Cassalianna knelt down on the bank, making full use of the moonlight as she checked her appearance one last time. She combed a slender, platinum comb through her golden hair, struggling not to think about how her father had likely never intended for her to use it in preparation for a suitor like the man she had grown to love. She tied her back, pulling some stray hairs over her pointed ears to make it appear as if she had not spent as much time on her appearance as she had.

"Did anyone see you?" a whispered voice called out, its source lost among the shadows of bushes that hugged the stony riverbank.

"Of course not," Cassalianna answered with a sly grin, allowing her eyes to dart from one bush to another, not bothering to hide the fact that she was eager to find her forbidden love.

"I hope not," the voice said. Moments later, a thin figure emerged from directly behind Cassalianna, wrapping her up in a tight embrace that first made her gasp in surprise, and then giggle with glee.

"I'll never let them know about you," Cassalianna assured the elf who stood before her. Unlike her pale, alabaster skin, his was as ebony, betraying the fact that he was a drow. A dark elf, his very presence on the surface was considered a threat by every single one of her people. But Cassalianna knew better; she knew that this elf did not deserve the label of demon that her fellow elves thought fitting for all drow.

"I hope not," he said with a grim smile. "I treasure our time together, but I think I'd treasure it far less were my head no longer attached to my shoulders."

"They wouldn't kill you," Cassalianna protested.

"Of course they would, Cassie. They would hunt me down and, if I were lucky, they would give me a quick death."

"Don't say such things," Cassalianna cooed, grabbing the draw's wrists and wrapping his arms around her, burying her face against his shoulder. The smiled at the scent of him, earthy and faintly musty. The first time she had met him, she had thought his distinctive scent to be much like the human loggers and trappers who sometimes traveled within the local area. It was like something out of a fairy tale, Cassalianna remembered, the smile on her face hidden in the dark fold's of the drow's cloak. I stupidly got caught in a bear trap, and he cam along and saved me. My silly, childish fears vanished when I saw that he was not like the stories. Well, most of the stories, anyway. There were a few bard's tales of "good" drow who had come to the surface and left their peoples' ways behind, some of them even embracing an aspect of their surface cousins' customs, but Cassalianna had always been told that those were fairy tales. Now she wondered.

Perhaps our subterranean cousins aren't so different from us, after all, she mused, drawing back to look at her lover's face. Framed by the all-too-common white hair of the drow, his jet black face seemed to absorb the moonlight in a shroud of darkness broken only by the red pinpoints of his eyes, indistinguishable from the red eyes of any of her people seen in the dark. We're not so different, after all.

"Istorvir," Cassalianna muttered, pausing only momentarily to kiss the drow's lips lightly. "What if there was a way to make my people understand?"

"We've already been through this," Istorvir answered. "They can never know. They'd never understand."

"But how do we know if we don't try?"

"I know," Istorvir spat bitterly, unknown memories clearly dancing across his face, forcing Cassalianna to wonder at what horrors her love had faced before meeting her.

"I love you," Cassalianna said, holding Istorvir tightly once again.

"Say it again," the drow responded, pulling back just enough to gaze into Cassalianna's eyes as she repeated herself.

"I love you," Cassalianna repeated. Her confused expression made it perfectly clear that she did not immediately understand the sensation in her abdomen.

And why would she? Istorvir wondered. She's no soldier. She's likely never been cut by a knife, to say nothing of being run through with a gladius.

Cassalianna's legs went rubbery and she staggered back, confused by the suddenly indifferent gaze in Istorvir's eyes. "What…" She fell to the ground and struggled for several moments, like a fish on a beach, trying to get her body to do her bidding. Then she felt the pain, the mind-numbing agony that blotted out her vision and made her want to cry out in terror. She could feel her blood flowing freely from her body, and still Istorvir did not come to her aid. It was then that she realized. I've been stabbed. Istorvir stabbed me.

"But Istorvir, why?" Cassalianna gasped, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, staining the spun gold dress that had already been ruined by a crimson-soaked hole in her belly.

"Because there's a group of humans that wants your people to move from this forest," the drow explained. "They paid a great deal to ensure the death of one of your people as a message to the rest. Your village's scouts are trained soldiers, and they're never out alone. Whereas you…"

Cassalianna shook her head, stubbornly refusing to believe what she was being told. "But… I love you," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You love… me. You…"

"Shhh…" Istorvir muttered, a hint of compassion in his voice giving Cassalianna hope. He does love me, she thought, ignoring the fact that the drow's affections – or lack thereof – would be a moot issue within a few more minutes. "I… just need to know…" Her voice trailed off as the young elven woman could no longer draw enough breath to speak.

"How could I?" Istorvir guessed, choosing what he thought the most likely question from his victim. "I'm a drow, Cassie. Haven't your people told you? The drow are evil. We're murderers without conscience, and we have no use for you and your ilk. You pleased me for a time; I certainly preferred your tender affections to the harsh, sometimes violent passions of drow women. But despite my affection for you – and you did evoke some feeling, I have to admit – I found the loggers' offer quite persuasive." Istorvir laid Cassalianna's head back on the grass and stood above her. "How could I?" he asked again. "It's in my nature."

Cassalianna finally died, and Istorvir turned away to return to his employer and collect his payment. Just as he began to slip into the surrounding shadows, he stopped in mid-stride and quickly returned to the elf's body. After a brief search, he pulled the platinum comb from the folds of her dress and placed it in his back pocket. Nice workmanship, he decided after a quick appraisal. I bet I could get a hundred gold for this.

Fin