A/N: This has been floating about my head for a while now, though I'm not sure how well I can pull it off (if at all) -- so be warned. It's mostly just a writing exercise for me to see if I can tackle subjects and issues which I (cough) tend to blush at, though feel free to leave your views and opinions!

Also, I guess I should explain... Lene takes the place of the PC, though she hasn't 'grown up' in Candlekeep -- her history is vaguely described, but to clarify: Gorion rescued her as a baby, and found her a steady home to live in with trusted non-Harper friends, in the hope that she could have some semblence of a normal life. Of course, it was not to be, so she was called for to live with him, and then they ended up leaving, pretty much as they do in the game. Lene, however, resents him more than anything else, for taking her away from what she saw as her family, for no apparent reason.

This will not (if I manage to keep going with it) follow the events of BG as they normally go, though they would be running concurrently in the background :) Oh, and, chapters are likely to be short, at least until I get into her head and into the feel of it... as I say, it's an exercise for me!

Prologue

She sat before the large mirror and rhythmically swept the brush through her hair, admiring the way it seemed to shine in the dim light of the tavern room. It curled around her shoulders, shorter than a lot of the other girls wore their hair, but in far better condition than the knotted, tangled messes that was the norm. It was her pride and joy -- the thing that helped her rise above the others every night, the attraction that ensured the attention of many of her clientele.

When she was done she cast a critical eye over the rest of her appearance. Her blue dress had seen better days, it was true; but if she was careful and stayed out of the harsher lights downstairs, people were less likely to see the rips and tears. Still, she'd almost saved up enough to buy a replacement, and one more fashionable too! The gown she was wearing was plain and extremely dull; one she'd been ordered to wear when she was taken to live at Candlekeep with the strange old sage. Originally it had covered her from neck to ankle, but with the aid of a pair of scissors, she'd managed to tailor it into something much more stylish.

Unfortunately, despite her best efforts she couldn't fully repair the rents in it that had been caused by her terrified flight in the middle of the night. No sooner had Gorion called for her to come and live with him at the library settlement than he'd declared that they must leave urgently, and soon. And so she'd been dragged away with barely a chance to grow accustomed to him at all, with his insistence that she should seek out two of his friends should anything happen to him on the road.

And it had happened; bandits or some such had attacked -- she wasn't really sure who they were or what they wanted from the mage, fleeing away from them as they conversed. And she'd been right to -- her final glance around had been to see Gorion falling, which did nothing except to make her run faster. And she ran until she couldn't any more, stumbling onto the road that the sage had insisted they leave as dawn broke around her. She remembered his words; Find Khalid and Jaheira, but she chose to ignore them. She hadn't known the old man at all, and she felt nothing at his death except bitterness. He'd taken her from her home, from the people who loved her, and now he was dead and she was alone.

So she'd set off determinedly to the south, finding her way to Beregost somehow. She planned to get a job, save for a while -- earn enough to go home, perhaps... but she wasn't sure where home was. She knew the people looking after her weren't her true parents, but it hadn't mattered -- it had never mattered, because they cared for her and nurtured her. But then they'd let her go. Why had they let her go?

The more she dwelt on the matter, the less she wanted to return to them. So when she met her current companion, she'd accepted her aid immediately, listening to her advice and tutelage and accepting a job as her associate. The coin was good -- and there was always the chance it could be better if the customer had drunk one too many ales. It meant she had a roof over her head, a safe place to stay. And, more importantly, she was now in control of her own life.

There was a knock at the door, and it opened as she turned, smiling to the woman who entered. The older human looked the girl over, nodding approvingly at her efforts and returning the grin with one of her own.

"Are you ready, Lene?" she asked, her voice deep and husky. Her hands were smoothing her own dress, a deep scarlet colour which complemented her brown hair beautifully.

Lene nodded. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Safana smiled and held out her hand. "Come, then," she purred deliciously as Lene took her hand and they began to walk towards the stairs leading down to the lounge. "Let us see what wonders shall behold us tonight!"