It didn't take long for heartache to become anger for a drow. Khaless was no different, though hers was not dirrected at the man that had scorned her. It was focused inward. How had she been so stupid? She walked down the narrow passages of stone, her fingers trailing along one side as she moved. She wasn't putting any effort into stealth, not when she expected to be alone. When she was far enough away from the surface to be comfortable, she stopped and dropped her supplies, making camp quickly as only an expert could. But by the time she had a small fire lit and hidden, she heard the sound of jogging feet. She turned abruptly, hand on an arrow with her bow at the ready, but she halted immediately when she saw who it was. "Ghaundar?" The drowess slung her bow across her back again.

The male drow skidded to a halt in front of her and took a minute to regain his breath. "Vaene is gone and it's my fault." It was the first thing Ghaundar said to his friend, the full reality of what had happened hitting him now that the adrenaline had faded. The pain in his eyes was as fresh and powerful as her own.

Khaless stepped in and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. The male drow stiffened for a second, then relaxed. No one else he knew would ever offer him comfort like this, but he wasn't going to turn it away when it came from her. He knew that even if she would never admit it aloud, his fellow soldier did care about him. And she knew how much the loss of Vaene would wound him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, pushing her own anger and hurt away. There would be time to feel that later. She wasn't so selfish that she would continue to stew in that and abandon him.

His whole body started to tremble as she sat down with him. His fingers knotted together and he leaned forward with a bowed head. "I just left her to die. I ran. She told me to run and I ran. I should have stayed. Now she's gone."

Khaless could smell the blood on him, even dry. She saw wounds on his arms and shoulders. The drowess fished bandages and a salve out of her kit. "Who were you fighting?" she asked. It was clear he was still in shock, stunned from the suddenness of his loss.

"Elves, surface elves who came below the ground. They wore the symbol of Shevarash," Ghaundar said. He let her unbuckle his armor, sitting there numbly. He was veteran enough to recognize the sign of the elven god of vengeance. It was not the first time his path had crossed an avenger's. "They killed her. Their kind has no mercy. Khal, how...?"

She knew what he was asking. How do I go on? How do I undo what I have done? How do I bring her back? "I don't know," she said honestly, binding up his wounds. She didn't linger, going from one to the next with alacrity.

One of his hands caught hers in a crushing grip. "I want revenge," he said hoarsely.

Khaless stilled, thinking for a moment of Thalion. Would he kill her to defend his brothers or sisters in arms? Probably. But Ghaundar was in pain, no matter how well shoved to the back of his mind, and this was something that would at least bring him momentary peace. Besides, what did she care? Her friend had a right to this much and she was no friend to elves. "Then we'll claim it," she promised, giving the unmarred part of his shoulder a rough squeeze of something approaching reassurance. Vaene had been her ally in life, so Khaless felt she owed the sorceress in death. The heads of her killers would probably put her at rest.

He nodded and turned his eyes to the flames in silence, though it made them sting and water. He was quiet and still as a statue as Khaless tended to her bow and checked all of her arrows. Even the smell of cooking food did nothing to stir him. The rogue was trying to give him space to grieve in his numb way. But finally, she disturbed him with a question. "What brought you here, so close to the surface?"

"Myrineyl Baenre thinks you are a heretic and was determined to put you to the question and find out," Ghaundar said dully. His gaze didn't waver from the fire as the hurt and anger churned inside of him. It was coalescing into a hatred for elves beyond what he already possessed. "We came to warn you not to return to Menzoberranzan."

Khaless bit the inside of her cheek, cursing Myrineyl silently. "Then I'll need to acquire supplies away from the city if we plan on fighting them. That'll be expensive and difficult, though worth the cost. You will have to return to Menzoberranzan alone to equip yourself and perhaps acquire a few others with a similar axe to grind." She knew that she didn't need to tell Ghaundar what kind of risk they were running. This vendetta would likely get them both killed, though they could easily take quite a few elves out with them. "Who was responsible?"

"There were two. A female with a scarred face and a male who wielded a great-sword. Both were dark of hair," Ghaundar said.

The rogue knew that 'dark of hair' just meant darker than white. It hardly narrowed it down, but the scarred face helped as did the knowledge that they were both avengers of Shevarash. "And the others?"

"Run of the mill soldiers. Why does it matter? Let us kill them all and be done with it," he said with a growl. She could see his temper rising when he looked over at her. Khaless held up both hands.

"We will do our best," she said in an effort to soothe him. It seemed to placate him a little, at least. "I'll wake you for a watch."

Ghaundar nodded dully and laid down. The rogue had rightly guessed that he wouldn't be hungry. She herself wasn't feeling particularly famished stared down at her warmed up rations and tried not to remember the way she'd kissed Thalion. If she was going to make war on the avengers of Shevarash, he would hate her quickly enough if he didn't already. The idea added its own tremor of pain to what she had burning in her chest already. She had a definite feeling that the Dark Maiden was not going to approve of her behavior. Unlike Naruvir, she would be doing this of her own will. But this was deserved. She looked over at Ghaundar, who was laying with his back to her and the tiny fire made of an enchanted stone designed to burst into flame and burn without fuel at the command word. A similar word would extinguish it. He needed this, she told herself. And Vaene deserved to have her death avenged.

A part of her knew that this venture was doomed to end poorly, possibly to the extent of killing them. But what was she going to do? Say no to the only person in her life who remained faithful and constant? Anyone else would turn on her in a heartbeat, but not him. He wasn't even blaming her for Vaene's death, at least not yet, since they'd come so close to the surface and into danger searching for her.

She picked up a small, loose piece of stone from the cavern floor and turned the rough rock over in her fingers. Sometimes she would keep smooth pebbles from where the underground rivers flowed just so she would have something to brush over with her thumb when she was lost in thought. But now her thoughts turned to places where they couldn't be soothed in the slightest. She'd tried to steel herself so hard against rejection, she'd known better, but that moment had turned hope into a blaze. It'd made her think that she couldn't be wrong. Then, as quickly as things seemed perfect, the ground was jerked out from under her. And she'd done it all to herself.

The worst part was that she still felt that tug of warmth when she thought of Thalion. She still wanted and wished and thought of him. The memories of times they'd shared pulled and pushed at her thoughts, rearranging her as they pleased. He really did have power over her. Even though it hurt so badly, she was still drawn in like a moth to flame. Just like the moth, she was destined to burn herself up for it. She just didn't know how. When Ghaundar left for Menzoberranzan, she would have to seek out Alassëa for some kind of guidance. Rûdhon might have given better advice, but she wasn't ready to admit to him that she had harbored even a single thought towards the avenger.

She was turning into a masochist, she was sure of it. Why couldn't she just run like a normal drow would? Maybe, just maybe, she would return to the City of Spiders with her friend instead of trying to go to the surface again. Instead of pretending that nothing had happened, because it hurt too much to hide. She needed the anger that was simmering under the surface of her thoughts. She would need it to keep herself whole through the ordeal of an inquisition. And if she died, she died. It was that simple. It was a consequence she could accept.


"What did you do?" Alassëa demanded, cornering Thalion in the small home that had been given to him in gratitude for protecting the village. Before he could protest his ignorance, she threw a mess of tattered and water-stained papers onto the table. They were the drawings, he realized, torn from the journal and destroyed. He picked out the painting of the rose, its stem blurred and weeping ink in dark blue-black rivulets down the page. It made his heart twist painfully, so he set it down. Never had he imagined that she would have ever destroyed something so precious to her. The journal had been more than a book. It was prayers, hopes, and dreams all mixed together. But now here it was, utterly ruined and he had a good idea of who had made it that way.

"I..." he started to say before hesitating. There weren't words enough to express his regret. He could still see Khaless's face perfectly and the way it had looked when he backed away from her. But it was true. They couldn't. It was dangerous, insane, and absolutely forbidden. It didn't really surprise him that Alassëa had decided to jump down his throat over what he'd done, however. It was almost reassuring to know that Khaless had someone so willing to fight on her behalf despite the distance between them. "I hurt her."

"You had her trust. Whatever you did, you destroyed that," Alassëa snapped. She could tell he was pained as well just by looking at him. "Are you finally satisfied? Your god of vengeance has had his pound of flesh from her."

"That wasn't what this was about," Thalion said hotly, standing up. He was incensed despite his own feeling of guilt. If Alassëa was going to rake him over the coals for hurting Khaless, she could at least know something of the truth. "It's safer this way. For both of us. We can't be...it doesn't matter."

The priestess of Eilistraee stared at him for a moment, the pieces falling into place swiftly. For an elf, Alassëa was young, but she wasn't stupid. "Gods, you broke her heart, didn't you?" she said softly. Whatever she had expected of him, and she didn't know that herself, this was infinitely worse. She hadn't even imagined Khaless had learned to love anyone yet, but now she could see it. All those nights that Thalion had vanished, he must have been with her. And the poor drow was just sinking deeper and deeper under the weight of everything she felt. Alassëa knew what heartbreak felt like, and even for her it was agonizing. How much worse would it be for someone who had spent so long with their feelings shut out, only to finally have someone break down the barriers and let everything out? "Thalion, how could you? Did you even try for a moment?"

"She had to know it would end this way," he said, avoiding Alassëa's eyes. It wasn't something he was proud of. If he could undo it, he would. But now Khaless was lost to him, away in the darkness. He doubted she would return to the surface again, not unless it was to pray. Maybe she would still do that. He could hope. Maybe he would even have the chance to catch sight of her. He missed her already and she'd only been gone for half a day. "She's a drow."

"That's cold, even for an avenger," she said. The priestess's voice had grown sharp and distinctly cool. She was not pleased with what he'd done any more than he was. And Thalion knew it was true. That was cold. The whole thing had been, particularly since for a moment he'd given her hope just in time to crush it.

Please, Thalion. Please don't do this to me. That had been all she asked of him. Just to not break her heart and all the trust that went with it. He hadn't even been able to do that. "Alassëa, I know," he said quietly. "I wish it was different more than anything."

"If you loved her back, you would make this right," Alassëa said quietly, turning and opening the door the rest of the way. She let herself out, brushing past Héra with only a nod of acknowledgment. It didn't even occur to her that the female avenger might have heard something.

Héra had heard every word. This was exactly the opportunity she and Naracion needed to lure the elusive drow out. It would mean hurting Thalion, but that could be healed in time. It was likely he didn't even love her the way he thought he did. But there was also a little twinge of jealousy that ran through her. She pushed it away. It was more important to focus on curtailing the spread of this one's venom through the ranks of Shevarash's faithful. If the drowess had managed to charm and seduce one, she could do it again. That was unacceptable. It was just a matter of making sure that Thalion escaped the punishment. She owed him that much.

But all that could wait. First she had to convince him to stop trying to be noble. It wasn't a position that she'd ever imagined herself in, certainly. "So," she said warmly, stepping through the door. "I didn't think you were Alassëa's type. Or does your famed charm overpower everything else, including good sense?"

Thalion sighed. "Funny," he said even though he wasn't in the mood for humor or even seeing Héra at all. He sat down at the table and rested his head in his hands. "I have enough heartache, thank you. The last thing I need is Alassëa in the mix too."

"So it is a love problem," Héra said. She sat down across the table from him and picked up the picture of waterlilies under the moonlight. She recognized the water-distorted calligraphy beneath as the drow tongue, though she couldn't read it. She just knew enough to identify it and bring it to Naracion, who could. "This is beautiful. Did your mystery lover draw it?"

"She's not my lover," Thalion said, reaching out. He tugged the picture from between her fingers, careful not to tear the page. It was still not quite completely dry.

"But you wish she was," the female elf said quietly, her green eyes sympathetic. She reached out and covered his hand with her own. "Thalion, what's wrong? You know you can talk to me."

He nodded. "I do wish she was," he said. And wasn't that the truth. Those kisses had been sweeter than honey and more intoxicating than wine, no matter how brief they were. If he could have had a lifetime of those, he would have taken it gladly. It was strange how something so slow growing could suddenly flower. But he'd nipped it in the bud. "But we can't be together. No one would approve. She's not an elf."

"Since when do you care what people think?" Héra said, giving his hand a soft squeeze. It seemed to reassure him a little, but it didn't really help with the pain. Thalion chewed at the inside of his cheek and shrugged his shoulders a little bit as if to say that even he didn't know. "Did you tell her no because of that? I can't think of another reason that you'd be so upset."

"Yes," he admitted quietly. It was good to have a sympathetic ear, even if he couldn't tell Héra the details. Would Khaless have the same comfort? He doubted it among the drow. Where would she even go? Back to Menzoberranzan and the iron claws of Lloth? He hoped not. He didn't want to think that he'd crushed everything good in her heart. It was painful now, he told himself, but it was the wise course of action.

"Thalion," she said with a gentle disappointment. "You have to fix things."

"But I can't—"

"Can't or won't?" Héra said, cutting him off. Her expression was soft enough that it didn't sting. "Listen to yourself, Thalion. You've always been the brave one and you're running away from love, of all things? You deserve to be happy. Maybe people won't approve, but isn't it worth it anyway? The life of an avenger is so often cold and empty. People don't understand the toll it takes to do what we do. If you've found someone who knows who you are and loves you anyway, that's worth any risk."

"You really think so?" he said uncertainly.

"Of course I do," Héra said. She gave him a soft smile. "Just make things right."

"I...don't know how," Thalion admitted. "I don't think there's anything I can do to fix this any more. I broke it so badly. If you had seen her face..."

"Now is not the time for that," she said. "Just apologize. Earn her trust back. If she loves you, she'll forgive you." Or if she wants something from you, the female avenger said in the privacy of her own thoughts. She was under no illusion that the drowess felt anything even approaching love for her comrade.

"If she even returns," he said, shaking his head a little. Khaless had her pride. She wouldn't just walk into his open arms after everything that had happened.

"Trust me, she will." Héra didn't imagine the female drow would abandon her designs so easily, even if her plan hadn't worked the way she intended. At any other time, she would have lauded Thalion's good judgment even if she didn't approve of how close he'd gotten. But this time, she needed him to draw her enemy out. This was a problem they could be rid of once and for all.