Under a Violet Moon

Disclaimer: "Neverwinter Nights" and all the characters and places within belong to Obsidian and Bioware, not me, and I just borrowed them for a little joyride through Faerun. Keridwen is mine. Attentive readers might find some of her weaponmaster philosophies similar to some aspects of Frank Herbert's 'Dune' saga... and they're right. ;)

I always found his concept about fear and its control highly intriguing, and so I decided to use it as Keridwen's mantra in an altered form.

Author's Note: You know it already, but I want to thank my reviewers for their comments and support, and those who added my story to their favourites and on their alert lists – I really appreciate it!

Kalyane: I really had to grin at your comment. If Bishop actually realised that his actions were fueled by something more than just his own twisted sense of duty, he'd probably pack his things and run as fast as he could. ;D

I'm glad that you like the pace of the story, so we'll just have to wait and see whether these two will ever sort things out between them. Keridwen certainly has a difficult time right now, but since they're both skilled when it comes to hiding their true feelings and emotions, it could take a while.

And I'm really glad that you like Bishop's body language. Since I couldn't show his inner struggle outright, I feared the hints were a little too subtle… and so I'm happy to see they worked for you. :)

Psychic Koala: First of all, I'm truly happy that you like my characterisation of Bishop. He's one of my favourite characters ever and I truly want to do him justice, trying to keep him close to his complex character without making him an evil cardboard cut out, or too soft and sociable.

And of course I'm happy that you like Keridwen, too. Due to her weaponmaster training, she always appears calm and controlled on the outside, but I'm glad that she didn't turn out too controlled or powerful and still seems likeable. And thanks for your suggestion - now that the first argument between Bishop and Keri is over, there's more time for thoughts and feelings, and I hope you'll like it. :)

*****

3

It was a nightmare.

Bishop had obviously chosen a route that led through the mountains north of the Keep and so they were able to hear it all, the noises only a little subdued. The arrival of the siege towers. The calls of the trumpets, theirs and those of the Shadow army, giving signals to the troops. She could hear the artillery of magic missiles and fireballs raining down on the Keep, and the distant cries of the men.

Once she heard Bishop rise to his feet, and Keridwen opened her eyes just to see him standing at the edge of the plateau, staring intently to the South and East, and the red glow that illuminated the southern sky told Keridwen everything that she needed to know.

Crossroad Keep was burning.

The battle seemed to wage on for an eternity, each cry of pain that echoed with the wind piercing her heart like a needle. As the dark colour of the nightsky finally gave way to the steely grey of dawn, a thundering noise echoed through the air and made the ground beneath her feet shake ever so slightly, and Keridwen knew beyond doubt that the walls of the Keep had finally been breached. It was only a short while after that that the slaughter began.

Then, after what seemed to be another eternity of screams and pain, there was silence.

The sun finally rose in the East, intending to bring the light back to the world of the living, but the dark clouds that had already distorted the light of Selune hadn't disappeared. They hung menacingly upon the land like a veil of despair as they reached slowly for the northern skies, refracting the light of the sun and making the landscape appear as if it had been drowned in blood.

Bishop had remained silent during the long hours of the night, and so had she. What was there left to say, anyway? The faces of her friends and family had haunted her thoughts instead, and her fear for their safety had made her almost feel sick. Were they safe? From what she had heard, it seemed as if their forces had been as outnumbered as they had feared, and Keridwen hoped that Nasher had been far-sighted enough to give orders for an immediate retreat before the undead had begun to swarm like maggots through the breach in the wall and most likely killed everyone who had stood in their path.

Had they even known that she was gone before the trumpet had finally called the men to their battlestations? Keridwen imagined the look on Casavirs face as he must have realised what had happened to her, and felt a sharp sting of regret pierce her heart. How often had he told her that Bishop couldn't be trusted, that she should send him on his way for good?

Strangely enough, she had never felt the same. She and Bishop had understood each other in a way that she and Casavir never would, no matter how much she valued the paladin as a friend. Casavir had always wanted to protect her from all harm and therefore had sometimes acted as if she were made of glass, a delicate flower rather than a battlehardened warrior who knew how to wield a blade, and Keridwen had silently endured his kind protectiveness because she liked the paladin far too much to say a word, knowing how it would hurt him. Bishop, however, had never felt that way.

What do you see whenever you look at her, paladin? She's a warrior, not a damsel in distress, and by treating her as such, you just dishonour her and all the strength she's got!

She closed her eyes as her mind drifted to the memory of their first fight together. They had been chasing the githyanki on their heels back into Luskan territory, trying to rescue Shandra with Bishop as their guide. During the long nights and days of their pursuit, Bishop had been thoroughly unwelcoming and hostile, and his simmering anger about Duncan's interference on Keridwen's behalf had been edged clearly into the sharp features of his face.

Keridwen had understood his feelings and had therefore tried to leave him alone as much as possible, encouraging her companions discreetely to do the same, simply to avoid confrontations in their own ranks. But Bishop seemed to relish these little confrontations, probably to vent some of his own frustration, and had sought her company of his own free will, trying to provoke her with his sneering comments and biting sarcasm.

Keridwen had found his constant taunts actually much more fascinating than infuriating, a fact that had not stayed hidden from the ranger and seemed to set his temper even more on edge, not easing their relationship in the slightest. But then, on the third day of their hunt, they had walked into a trap.

The attack had started as soon as they had set foot on the deserted market square of the small village of Ember. Shouting githyanki had suddenly appeared from all directions, whirling their vicious looking blades, and they had been forced to defend themselves on the spot. Keridwen had fought her way through the first wave of attackers, her strokes fast and deadly, and had let her instincts guide Shiranui's blade while her eyes had searched for the spellcasters.

There had been two of them, standing on the other side of the market square and hiding behind the well. The air had already been wavering around them, as they had obviously had enough time to cast their protective spells, and Keridwen had simply ducked another well-aimed attack at her heart and had sliced the githyanki's guts with another fluid turn of Shiranui's edge while she had hastened past the now cringing form of her adversary, her mind solely focused on the two mages who had already begun with another incantation.

A fleeting feeling of heat had suddenly caressed her cheek, and a fire arrow had soared dangerously close past her face to pierce the first mage's flesh, stopping his incantation effectively as the githyanki sank to his knees, clutching his chest. Another arrow had been fired, taking down the second mage with the same deadly skill, and Keridwen had turned around to see Bishop standing a few steps behind her, lowering his bow as his hand had reached for another arrow from his quiver. Several githyanki had lain on the ground around him, their motionless bodies still smoldering from the burning wounds his enchanted projectiles had caused, and he had lifted his eyebrows in an almost cocky fashion as his eyes had met hers across the battlefield.

Suddenly, there had been a movement behind him, and another githyanki had jumped from the shadows between the houses, his blade aiming for a killing blow. Bishop had whirled around, raising his bow, but the githyanki had already been too close for a straight shot. Realisation had dawned on the ranger's face as he had analysed the scene, and he had thrown himself to the right to evade the githyanki's blade as Keridwen had suddenly stepped up behind him, keeping Shiranui low at her side to hide its movements from their enemy while she used Bishop's ducking body as a shield. Then, with one fluid motion, she had raised her sword to let it follow the line of the ranger's retreating back in an upward-arc, her blade now aiming at her unsuspecting opponent.

The edge had been close enough to Bishop's head to cut the tips of his hair as Shiranui had soared through the air to embed itself forcefully into the forehead of the githyanki, cleaving his head neatly in two. Blood and other, much more unsavoury bits had sprayed everywhere, but Keridwen had simply let her blade's momentum carry her further, helping her to avoid most of the red projectiles.

A quick glance around the scenery had told her that the fight had almost been won, and so she had turned to find Bishop standing only a few feet away, watching her quietly. His evading move had saved him from most of the blood as well, but his face and parts of his leather armour had been spattered with red drops nonetheless. His dark eyes had searched her face, their stare intense, and his voice had sounded calm and almost a little impressed as he spoke. "You sure know how to wield a blade."

Keridwen had returned his intense stare, her reply evenly solemn. "I do." After a long moment of careful scrutiny, she had tilted her head a little in his direction and had nodded at the dead githyanki at his feet, arrows protruding from their chests, and the weapon in his hand. "But no more than you know how to use that bow."

He had smiled at her reply, the first true smile she had ever seen from him, and then had simply made his way to the well to wash the blood from his face. She had never asked him about it, but after this incident, his demeanour towards her had changed noticeably. There had still been a sneer in his voice whenever he spoke with her, but now, it was more often accompanied by respect than contempt in his piercing hazel eyes. And then, after a while, his voice had even lost its sneer in her presence, and Keridwen had found comfort in the strange kind of comradery that seemed to have developed between them with each passing day.

She opened her eyes to find him standing at the edge of the plateau once more, one hand raised to shield his face against the first light of dawn as he stared intently to the South and East, and Keridwen wondered if she had been a fool to assume that his changed demeanour had meant something to him, and if she had not simply led herself astray to believe that he had come to think of her as a companion, maybe even a friend.

Stop lamenting over things you cannot change!, she reprimanded herself as another wave of sorrow and loss threatened to overwhelm her fatigued body. Stay focused. Concentrate. You will not allow him to play this game by his rules alone.

Keridwen watched the man standing in front of her, and her sharp eyes caught a hint of his exhaustion in the light shadows under his eyes and the way his normally so tense shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly, and it suddenly occurred to her that he could not have slept, having had to keep watch all night. Her jaw clenched ever so slightly as she seized up the man before her just like any other opponent, and her mind raced as she realised that she could use his fatigue to her advantage.

She would rest. She was the victim, after all, and this whole mess of a situation was his idea. She would force him to stay alert, numbing his already fatigued senses while she would recover her strength. Bishop turned and walked back to his sitting place, his expression sour, and she hastened to close her eyes as she did not want to ignite another confrontation right now.

Let him keep watch, Keri. Let the man exhaust himself just a little further.

Because she knew that if she only had the patience to wait long enough, he would finally make a mistake. And if he did, she would be ready.

***

The woods were quiet, but Bishop did not allow himself to be fooled by the peaceful scenery around him. As if the strangely reddish light of the sun wasn't enough to put every cautious man on alert, all it had taken him was one look at the southern sky and the dark clouds of smoke that were now rising in the South and East to know that the Keep had been thoroughly dismantled, and that any man who wanted to survive these dangerous times should keep his weapons handy, should trouble finally decide to catch up with him.

Of course it's not as if trouble hadn't already caught up with you all along…

Bishop scowled at the mocking voice in his head and cast a furtive glance at Keridwen's sleeping form, wondering not for the first time how things could have turned out so completely messed up between them.

He had known that she would be mad, after all. He had told himself over and over again while he had waited for her to return to consciousness that even if she would not throw a fit, she would most likely be not too pleased with the decision he had made for the two of them (however smart it might have been, though, considering the recent fate of her oh-so-beloved Keep...), and therefore, all that he had to do was to remain calm and wait until she would finally come to her senses, realising that he had done her in fact a great favour by taking her with him.

But instead, he had allowed her to drive him mad.

Bishop cringed involuntarily as the memories returned unbidden to his mind. He, kneeling beside her, his hand grabbing forcefully for her soft hair to pull her towards him, her large eyes reflecting the violet moon and her lips so close to his own now that he could have touched them with his mouth, and his voice, hissing loudly into her ear about his debt and his true feelings for her.

And true they were, the gods may be damned! He was none of her lackeys, after all, only waiting to fulfill the wishes of the glorious Knight-Captain at the smallest wave of a hand. He had never stayed because he had liked her, he had stayed because he had been forced to!

But if that was true, why had he felt his heart ache ever so slightly as he had noticed the sudden distant look in her eyes? Why was the memory of her soft voice enough to make him feel almost ashamed of his actions even now, when all he had said to her was the truth?

You are right. We've never been friends.

Bishop scowled at the sleeping woman before him. It was all her fault, anyway! He should have known that she wouldn't be grateful. He should have known that she would stay the same stubborn, righteous little bitch she had been since the first day he had met her, daring to lecture him about his actions und feelings and then even demanding to be cut loose so that she could join an already lost battle, and that after he had almost damaged his back to carry her sorry hide all the way into the mountains, just to keep her safe!

But what is so special about her that you wanted to keep her safe, anyway?

The thought made him feel a little uncomfortable, but now that it had found its way into his mind, he couldn't find the strength to ignore it. It were her eyes that had started all this trouble, Bishop decided after another long scornful look into her pale, sleeping face. This look of hers, as if she could see right into the deepest regions of his soul, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep a secret from her gentle stare, no matter how desperately he tried; it was this look that made him behave like a madman nowadays.

Her eyes had fascinated Bishop right from the beginning. When he had joined with her motley band of adventurers, the others had looked at the surly ranger with the same barely disguised expression of disgust and superiority as everybody else, and Bishop had smiled secretly because that look meant that his oh-so-valuable companions believed exactly what he wanted them to believe about him, so that in the end, they would never see him coming, self-righteous fools that they were.

Keri had never looked at him this way, though. Her large blue eyes, adding even more to her youthful appearance than her delicate physique, had stared at him in a way that he had never experienced with a woman before. This eyes with their look of gentle curiosity seemed to tell him that she was actually very well aware of all the masks he was wearing, but that all she really was interested in was to get a glimpse of the man behind them all, and her gentle stare had been a silent invitation to open himself just a little to her, so she may come in to share his thoughts.

At first, he had resented her offer. He didn't need her to keep him company, after all. But for the first time in too many years, Bishop had had the impression that there might be someone who was actually interested in him, the man, and not only in his skills as a tracker or in his body to warm a bed. So, in a single moment of weakness, he had allowed her a little closer, just to get a better measure of the woman himself, and had found himself drawn as irresistably to her as a moth to the flame.

There was something about her quiet strength and character that intrigued him. The way she would stay focused even in the cruelest slaughter of battle, her pace never wavering even when the world seemed to shatter around her - that was a silent strength he could respect, and Bishop's respect had never been earned easily.

But what had intrigued him the most was that softer, compassionate side she showed whenever the circumstances allowed it. He remembered how he had watched her in silence when she had comforted her friends after the death of the farm girl, strangely touched at the tears that had shone in her eyes as she had spoken during Shandra's funeral ceremony in one of the Keep's courtyards, and for a fleeting moment, his heart had urged him to stand beside her, to hold her in his arms and to whisper words of comfort into her ear until all the pain he saw in her eyes would finally go away…

He caught himself just as his mind wanted to delve even deeper into his memories, and his eyes widened noticeably in astonishment as he truly realised what he had been thinking. For a fleeting moment, a strangely mingled feeling that tasted uncomfortably of longing and fear threatened to overwhelm his senses, only to be washed away almost instantly by the same blazing fury that had made him grab Keridwen's hair last night.

Bishop snarled, and his hands clenched tightly into fists as he fought to control the storm that suddenly raged inside him. He glared at the woman before him, sleeping peacefully under the cover of his woolen cloak, and shook his head in disgust. She was nothing to him, after all. A nuisance, a burden, a constant reminder of Duncan's unbearable interference in his life, a symbol for all the chains that bound him to the unfortunate path his life had taken, and he would sooner kill himself before he allowed himself to feel anything for a petty little wench such as her.

And yet here you are, guarding her sleep while undead roam free across the land…

With a hissing sound, Bishop jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing. Shut up!, he growled at the mocking voice in his head and crossed the distance between him and Keri in one single, furious stride. Kneeling beside her, he reached for her shoulder and shook her roughly, only once.

Keri's eyes opened as soon as he touched her. There was no drowsiness or confusion in them, as he would normally have expected from a person who had just awoken rather abruptly after a night of strenuous privations, but all he could see was vigilance and calm concentration instead. It showed that she was well experienced in sleeping outdoors and under difficult conditions, a quality he had actually found quite admirable about her. Right now, he loathed her for being admirable at all.

"Time to get up, Captain.", he sneered, his voice rougher than he had expected. She simply stared at him, her look calm and demanding without a single sign of fear, and he had to fight down the sudden urge to raise his fist and hit her hard in the face, just to vent some of his frustration. He stood before his anger could get the better part of him and glared at her from above, his voice dripping with venom.

"The sun won't slow its rise for you, believe me, and we still have a lot of ground to cover."

*****