Her Last Days

by Eristarisis

She devoted her life to Neverwinter. Betrayal and pain were her rewards. She devoted the ending of her life to herself at the hands of a dealer of death."

1. Chapter 1 - A War of Words

Chapter 1: War of Words.

He would have normally stood there, tall and proud, with the matching but differently enchanted blades drawn. The fire enchantment upon one mirrored his temper, while the acidic enchantment upon the other mimicking the very corrosive nature of his words. The raven hair and eyes of his face failed to hide the verbal fury or the temper that he employed against the only target within the opulently decorated chamber.

The elite bodyguards of Lord Nasher, the Neverwinter Nine, stood at perfect attention around the room. One in each of the four corners of the room, with two flanking the splendid arched and vaulted door that lead in to this room. The remaining three members of the Nine were amongst those who gave their lives in the valiant defense and counterattack against the Luskans and Uthgradt invaders. Normally, their postures would have been no less than perfect, but today their fingers twitched constantly, ready to draw the finely honed steel blades at a moments notice should the fury of the verbal maelstrom turn to physical violence.

The Commander of the Nine stood at the heart of the maelstrom, his own voice, roaring with unrepressed rage and anger, his own salt and pepper hair shaking to emphasize his point, of outright refusal. The younger raven-haired man refusing to back down before the storm that rained upon him by Lord Nasher, though he stood his ground with both fists clenched, determined to maintain a measure of control even as he roared back.

Any other man would have been thrown in to the dungeons of the castle. It was also a lie that kept the six chosen bodyguards of the Lord of Neverwinter from engaging the Death Dealer in combat. Even six on one their chances of victory were slim indeed. The raven haired man screaming at Lord Nasher was known to rout armies single handedly.

Darius Angelus the "Death Dealer" was the most dangerous man in Neverwinter. The man had done more good for the city since the Wailing Death. The man who had single handedly stalled the Luskan advance by stopping the War Golems that had decimated Neverwinter's Army and the City Guard. The same man had seen to the destruction of the catapults that had rained fire and damnation upon the city, and brought to end the Cult and delivered death and eternal damnation to Maugrim Korotheir.

The same man who had fought the Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande and brought her to her knees in defeat. The same man who had convinced that fallen lady, the once proud paladin of Tyr, the traitor and Dark Champion and Commander of the Luskanite Forces to surrender herself, and her knowledge to the forces of the Lords Alliance, allowing them to beat back and drive the Luskans from the city that she had once so proudly served.

Lord Nasher had passed his judgment, and had shown no mercy, sentencing her to death at the Hangman's noose, at dusk in two days. Darius had heard of the judgment and had spared no time in demanding a meeting with Lord Nasher, in the hopes of somehow changing the man's decision. A "lively discussion," would have been a poor description of the war of raised voices and harsh words hurled back and forth by both men.

Darius knew that hope aside, he had little chance of changing Nasher's mind. And Darius knew that Nasher knew this. And Darius knew that his temper was getting the better of him. "She surrendered herself to you, at my persuasion! She has shown that she knows the error of her ways! Show some mercy!" he shouted yet again, "Do you think that she does not feel for what she has done? Spare her and show that you do understand the nature of kindness!"

"She betrayed this city that she had sworn to serve and protect," retorted Lord Nasher shaking his head, "I cannot show her any leniency. The penalty of High Treason is Death. Darius, she has been, she still is the daughter that I never had, but I cannot change the Law. She led Luskan Forces against her own people! She slaughtered them upon the field of battle, even as they ran for their very lives! She once served this city, but turned her back upon it. High Treason is the crime and her betrayal…"

"Her Betrayal? You dare accuse her of Betrayal? What do you call your own actions? The "people" of Neverwinter were nothing more than a bloodthirsty mob! They demanded blood, as if the blood of Desther was not enough! You gave them Fennthick Moss! You surrendered Aribeth's beloved to the judgment of the mob!"

"His own actions condemned him," cut in Lord Nasher, "I had no choice…"

"No choice? You are the Lord of Neverwinter! Think of this, "Lord" Nasher, if Aribeth had been the one to leap through that Portal from your very own Throne Room, from this very room, when the cure was stolen, your first thought would have been of sending aid to assist her against Desther. You would have probably sent me, being the closest at hand," he paused from breath at this point, taking only a moment to gather his strength to hammer his point home, "Her betrayal is not in question. It happened. But examine the causes of her betrayal with open eyes and an honest heart and you will find yourself as the root cause, oath breaker!"

At these words, Nasher's hand went to the blade that he wore at his own hip, "You dare question my honor? You dare call me a traitor within my own house? My city…"

The movement was not lost upon Darius, as his feet shifted slightly, letting his muscles relax as his fingers flexed. Stealing a rapid glance around the room he turned his attention back to Nasher, "I don't dare question your honor. I don't dare call you a traitor," snarled Darius, "I call you traitor! I call you backstabber! I call you the lowest of the low! I call you a man without honor! I call you oath breaker! Face you own actions Lord of Neverwinter! You betrayed Fenthwick Moss when you let the mob of your citizens hang him! You betrayed her and abandoned her without explanation or time to mourn a loss that you inflicted! That loss destroyed her ability to love and care for others! You betrayed the two who held you in the highest esteem, who gave love, limb and life in your service, to your city!"

"I sent her from this city, giving her the sacred duty, to hunt down the very cult that took Fenthwick from her! She was a true Paladin of Tyr and should have understood that I was giving her opportunity to take divine vengeance!"

Darius plunged on heedless of his own safety, "You do at least know how she became a Paladin of Tyr? Or did you not even bother to find that out?" Darius knew. She'd told him on the long nights of the hunt and pursuit before her betrayal. Lord Nasher could only stand for a moment, but was not given enough to time to reply, "You don't even know the life of the woman who has served you for so many years!" The words of Darius cut through, striking deep in to the core of the man who had built the entire city.

Lord Nasher was bound by the very laws that he swore to serve, and administer. Justice must be done, and that justice meant the death of Lady Aribeth. He could not escape this fact. However, her surrender had given the defenders valuable information that had allowed Captain Trancer along with the Neverwinter Nine and every man able to wield a sword to drive the Luskanites from his city. Nevertheless, it was not enough to redeem the hundreds of deaths that rested upon her head, whose blood coated her hands, "Be that as it may," breathed Lord Nasher, "My decision is unchanged. Aribeth De Tylmarande, shall die for the crime of high treason against the city and people of Neverwinter."

Darius Angelus, paused for a moment, gathering strength, to restrain and cage the beast that reigned within. He fought and found his control slipping as it broke through whatever barriers and walls he had put in place, mentally steeling himself for this long and drawn out affair, that he knew in his heart had known he would lose before beginning, "So years of loyal service mean nothing in the final count? Those who do care for her are not even allowed to say good-bye or have a one moment of happiness with her? I had not known, that the Lord of Neverwinter, in addition to all else, was also a truly heartless barbarian who belongs outside the walls of his civilized stronghold."

The straw that broke the proverbial camel's back, as Nasher himself drew his sword, the blade rising from its scarab with a sharp hiss. He did not have the chance to raise the blade before a voice as cold as the smoke of dry ice cut through the air of the chamber, "Leave that blade, Nasher, this is the only warning that I will give." The gathered strength in the room drew their blades, "I could kill you all, and take what I want, but, I have no desire to kill here. We have all seen enough bloodshed." A part of him however…

Nasher hesitated for a moment, before letting the tip of his sword touch the floor, he would not add to the damage done, by getting himself killed or worse, by being called to answer for the murder of the Hero of Neverwinter. Nasher knew that he had no choice, that by the laws of the City and by the Code of Honor that governed all members of the Lords Alliance: Aribeth would pay the price for her crimes.

However, there was still one thing that he could do, he hoped, that would be enough to placate the man before him. Darius was dangerous and the Death Dealer had no qualms about shedding anyone's blood, for any reason. Aribeth was a good enough reason for the Savior of Neverwinter.

Lord Nasher had much blood upon his hands, both that of the guilty and of the innocent, some of it fresh, and some of it old. It was blood nonetheless, and he wished that there was another path that he could follow. He knew that there was one thing that he could offer, "Darius," Nasher paused, as the glare from Darius's would have turned blood to ice, "There is one thing that I can offer: I can grant her the remaining days of her life in relative freedom, in protective custody. Then she must face judgment, or anyone who protected her will share her fate."

Darius stared unblinking, the hard obsidian colored eyes tearing through Nasher, as Nasher noted where once was passion to serve and a measure of loyalty, now only stood anger and hatred akin to that the Luskans had for Neverwinter. He shuddered as he realized that a dangerous enemy stood before him. While the plague of the Wailing Death was over and the invading armies shattered, this man could probably finish the job singlehandedly.

"Two days?" growled Darius even as he considered it for a moment, considering choices and options. He had realized that getting a concession from Lord Nasher would prove to be almost impossible. Darius knew better than to turn down the offer, "Two days from the rising of the next sun. But, you release her in to my custody and my custody alone – tonight."

Lord Nasher considered this condition even as he considered the man before him. Darius was a man who did what was right, because it was right, but only when it suited him. Darius could have easily joined Aribeth when she led the forces of Luskan, and that he knew, would have been the doom of his city, "So be it. Two days then Lady Aribeth must be returned to face her judgment."

Darius nodded his understanding, and waited as a scribe wrote out and then handed the letter to Lord Nasher who signed and affixed his seal to the letter. It changed hands, and Darius nodded his acceptance of it. Without another word, Darius turned and left, throwing open the double doors and not bothering to shut them as he headed in to the depths of the Castle, towards where only the most dangerous of prisoners would be kept: Aribeth de Tylmarande.

Within her cell, Aribeth stared at the smooth and naturally formed walls of her prison cell. The only thing added to ensure its security had been a solid oak door, and several guards upon the other side of the door. The elven paladin was however, able to hear the pair of raised voices that had been shouting back and forth for hours.

She sighed silently, knowing that Darius would not let up and that they could go on for hours yet. Aribeth was somehow, unable to care about her fate. She had accepted the almost certain likelihood of death when she abandoned the war against Neverwinter and surrendered herself to Lord Nasher and the Neverwinter Nine.

She noted the sudden silence before her keen hearing detected the heavy foot falls, that she had learned to recognize long ago. The guards outside her cell challenged somebody, a scroll of paper being thrown at someone. In moments her cell was thrown open and Darius strode in, his normally unreadable face contorted in to a mask of absolute fury. "You tried to speak to Nasher?" Aribeth asked rhetorically.

She saw the fighter gave a slight nod, as they both knew how successful his "conversation" with Nasher had been, "He will not reconsider his decision." Darius snapped, the fury in his face faded and was replaced by a mask of gentleness, of sorrow, "I, I'm sorry. I did not mean to…"

Aribeth quickly cut off the warrior before he was able to continue, "Do not regret Darius. There is nothing that can change the past. I foresaw my fate, the moment I abandoned Maugrim and Morag. However I choose this course, and I will walk in to its end."

"You knew? Yet you choose this?" Darius eyes widened slightly in shock, "You know what… and you still choose to submit to the judgment of that deluded old fool?"

"It was wrong, Darius." Aribeth answered, "I was wrong. I choose to walk the wrong path, and I committed unspeakable acts of horror and atrocity. I couldn't look myself in the mirror and accept what I had done."

"Why come here though?" Darius pleaded startling Aribeth slightly, "Why not run? Leave? Make a fresh start, a new life in a different part of Faerun? You did not have to come back. You could have started over and forgotten everything that happened here."

"I would not be able to live with myself." The elf answered truthfully, trying unsuccessfully to hide her emotions, even as her eyes revealed her inner fear, "I would not be able to live with myself, knowing that my thirst for vengeance against one man had caused the death of thousands and that many more are left homeless or widowed. I will not run away. I accept my fate and will walk the path to its very end."

Aribeth watched as the young man who stood before her did not know what to do or say. She could not blame him as she had been in the same position as Darius only a few months ago. She doubted however, that Darius felt anything other than a strong, close friendship. He knew her better than anyone else alive, "How long?" Aribeth asked straightforwardly.

"Two days," Darius replied somberly, his eyes were downcast as he examined the dirt of the dungeon floor. "We have two days from sunrise tomorrow."

"We…?" Aribeth questioned, not completely understanding.

Darius looked up as he answered and met the wood elf's bright blue gaze. "Nasher has granted me the authority to release you from your cell as long as you stay within the confines of the city."

Aribeth nodded at least she would have some free time of which to do as she pleased before she surrendered herself to her fate. She examined the youthful young man before her. She was an equivalent age by elven standards, causing a small smile to creep across her delicate features, as she noted that Darius was staring at her, but staring at something that she could not see, "Well then?" She asked promptly, snapping the fighter out of his reverie, "Let me out of this cell. I want to feel the touch of the sun again."

For the first time that night and many days before, a flicker of a smile passed over Darius's features and he nodded gently as he stepped to the side, holding the door open for her, "Let's get going."

Darius locked gazes with Aribeth and smiled as she walked past him. With her back to him, she did not see him shake his head, or his hear his thoughts. Aribeth stepped out her cell and stretched slightly, the cramp confines had caused her muscles to cramp and it was a rather unpleasant experience. Finishing the quick routine, Aribeth tapped Darius, "Ready when you are."

Both were silent as Darius led her through the now vacant streets of Neverwinter towards some unknown destination. As they passed through the broken and desolate streets of the city that she had once served with pride and honor, Aribeth unconsciously drew closer to Darius's side, her hands wrapping around his forearm. More than once, Aribeth had seen the guards of the castle glaring at her, their desire to kill her obvious in their eyes as they still saw her as the commander of the dark army of Luskanites and Uthgardt that had laid siege to the city she now walked through. And they probably would have tried, had it not been for her protector and escort.

The pair wandered through the city, and Aribeth noticed the changes all around as the scent of unwashed bodies faded away, and the quality of the houses around them degraded rapidly before beginning to increase in quality. Aribeth knew of only one district in the entire city that had such flamboyant and extravagant housing: Blacklake District.

Aribeth hid a smile and the coughed, to hide a chuckle, as she wondered what the guards and people of Blacklake would make of such a man wandering through their district, in his well worm armor and pair of blades, one riding upon his hip, the other across his back. The cloak with its hood up hid his face, just as the cloak she wore did. The wealthy merchants and highborn nobles would definitely suffer indigestion at seeing the two of the wandering through their district. Aribeth pinched her lips together as she imagined the expressions on the faces of all the wealthy "upper class." The images however were downright hilarious to Aribeth as she was unable to stifle the gentle laughter that came from her.

Darius jumped slightly, turning his head to the side at the unexpected noise as he regarded the female elf, staring in to her sapphire eyes, "What?"

"We are heading towards Blacklake are we not?" the fallen paladin asked.

"Yes, we are," Darius confirmed, "Why?"

Aribeth managed to answer giggling all the while, "It's just the thought of you in Blacklake is rather comical."

The fighter turned, bringing them both to a halt as he assumed an indignant pose and pouted like a child, "And what makes my appearance unsuitable for me to show my face in Blacklake?"

Aribeth laughed harder before she was able to calm herself enough to reply, "Darius, you profession alone would be enough for most nobles to turn green before they turn up their noses at you, and that's before they have even seen you armed with a pair of blades in battle scared armor. Plus you despise the so called "nobility" that inhabits this district as much as they had you."

"I suppose that my appearance is less than noble, but nothing I own cost a dragon's horde to buy," replied Darius, "and the only reason I have accommodation in this overpriced district is because of an old washer woman, Milly, who was one of the last victims to be claimed by the Wailing Death. "

"And the nobles of the Black Lake have never been the same since." Aribeth snidely remarked, her grin widening, "and if those twin blades of yours did not cost a dragon's horde to buy…"

"My swords did not cost anything." replied Darius, a little sharp, "The flame enchanted blade, I call "Fire Star" was actually the blade that my father used before," he paused for a moment, before continuing, "Before he was killed."

Aribeth picked up on the sharpness of his tone, and smoothly deflected the subject, "and who did the green, poison enchanted blade belong too?"

"…" Darius was uncertain if he could tell her the truth, but decided that she deserved to know some of the truth about him, "The green blade, belonged to somebody I knew, long ago, before I answered Neverwinter's call."

Aribeth stood back and listened as Darius leaned, back first against a wall, staring in to the distance, at the sun that was slowly disappearing, "She was one of the most important people in my life, who meant everything to me…" To Darius, everything else became invisible as he saw the entire scene playing out before his eyes, as it had done numerous times in his sleep….

She stood back, giving him a moment to himself, because she knew that he would regret telling her anything because it revealed that he was human and had a heart capable of emotions. She knew that he was as human as the next person was, just that he often times did not know how to express those feelings. Without waiting for him, she pressed on towards Blacklake.

The pair drew closer to the gates that separated the rich quarters of the nobles from the rest of the city. With their privately hired and managed Black Lake Guard that guarded the lavish solid wrought-iron gate. The cost clothing of even the lowest ranking guards here would have kept those who called the Beggar's Nest home, fed for at least half a year. Darius hated these so-called "guards," and he remembered their cowardice during the invasion, when they had done little to help in the defense of the city, most of them simply cowering in shelter with the women and children. Cowardice – he hated cowards with a passion.

The female elf remembered during the Wailing Death, how these so-called "nobles" had locked themselves within their district, hoarding food and supplies to let the rest of the city starve during the quarantine. She remembered how these cowards, who accounted for nearly a fourth of the city's military power, had refused to join the fight, their cowardice leaving the city under-defended against the combined forces of Luskan and the Uthgardt Tribes.

"Drop your hoods and be counted," a voice ordered from the parapet a top the gate, who glared down, with the sun at his back, "Or I shall take great pleasure in having you run through!"

Darius eyed the guards with a very unpleasant look. Aribeth could tell that their cowardice in the defense of Neverwinter had not gone unnoticed. Darius took a deep breath to calm himself, his hands remaining at his side, but clenched tight, "I am a simple traveler returning home." Darius replied the contempt in his voice staggered Aribeth. Darius was rough around the edges, with a mouth that could shock anybody, except perhaps a blood-sailor, but the way he spat the word left no doubt what he really meant – I am somebody who fought, and bled to defend this city, and want to return to my home you coward.

The gloom and shadows of the night must have obviously been affecting the guard's eyesight and ability to recognize people in the poor light, but it was also possible that these "guards" were mere thugs, and stupid. Otherwise, they would not have been so bold with their next remark, "Simple travelers are not wanted or welcome in Black Lake!" the guards sneered, "You could not afford a pair of boots here! Turn around and wander towards the Beggar's Nest, where you'll find something more appropriate for the likes of you."

Aribeth breathed in silently, and cursed the guard's stupidity. To be impolite to Darius was one thing, but to openly insult him, was very unwise. The Elf remembered how Darius had reacted when another student at the academy had belittled the fighter's skills. Darius had almost slain the youth with three strikes from the flame enchanted bastard sword Darius called "Fire Star." The youth had needed a visit from the priests and clerics of Tyr to heal the wounds and burns he had suffered – that fight had lasted a few seconds. If this came to a fight, it would last slightly longer than that one.

Aribeth was pulled out of her musings as Darius strode forwards and threw his hood back with his anger barely concealed, "I am not a noble but my house is in the Black Lake area so either you open this gate, or I run you through and open the gate myself!"

It was obvious the guards recognized the hero of Neverwinter by the blood that drained from their faces as fear overcame their expressions, "I'm sorry milord, I…I could not make you out in the gloom."

Darius's gaze did not relent for a second as he stared down the guard who fumbled to open the gate, causing the guards to become even more uncomfortable, "As you please, but I recommend that you mind your manners. In future, I might not be so, well tempered."

"Yes milord." The guard said with an enthusiastic nod, relieved that he had been spared a beating, and more likely death, "If I may ask milord, who is your companion?"

Darius simply glared at the guard who hurriedly opened the gate and let the pass, bowing his head in submission before barking orders at the other guards who had remained silent throughout their exchange. The gate opened silently on its well oiled hinges. Moments later, the pair wandered the nighttime streets of the Black Lake District.

"Did you have to terrify the guard?" Aribeth asked even as she drew the hood over head determined to hide her identity from everyone around her. She did not want her identity known as it would only cause trouble

Darius would have protested had he not noticed the humor that her voice carried, "Absolutely necessary. That is the sort of scum that should be in the Peninsula Prison."

"Be that as it may, he nearly died of shock when you lowered the hood upon your cloak," she replied with a slight the beginnings of a smile upon her face.

"I was kind of hoping he would, but seeing him squirm and feel like the dozens that he has bullied in the past, was good enough for me, " replied a none too serious Darius – glad that the topic of conversation had shifted away from himself.

"Agreed," Aribeth answered with a giggle even as she considered how people abused the authority granted to them by the government. She remembered how all too often she had been the one to heal the consequences of these abuses.

Darius looked around and checked their surroundings as the pair carried on through the streets until they came upon what could be considered the "heart" of the district, close to the Boards Laid Bare tavern. Darius had won the gauntlet fighting challenge and also owned the District's only tavern. He bypassed it, in favor of the small neat house that had been left to him by the spinster washer woman, Milly – who Darius had been unable to save from the Wailing Death. It was small and perhaps a little cramped for two people being the small single storey house that was tucked away in to a corner of the district.

"We're here." Aribeth heard Darius announce as he turned towards the door. He pulled the key from a pocket and fitted it in to the lock. With a sharp tug upon the doorknob, the ancient wooden door swung open to reveal a dark room, lit by the dull light of a single oil lamp that threw shadows along the wall, "Ladies first," he said as Aribeth graciously accepted the invitation and stepped through closely followed by Darius.