Chapter 14: Her Father's Daughter

Ilyrana

Ilyrana shut the door to the bathroom, leaned back against it, closed her eyes, and tried not to scream.

She was dead on her feet. Imoen had wanted to draw her a bath, help her bathe, and chat. Which would have been fine, if not for the fact that it would have been impossible to hide the burn scars on her thighs, as well as the marks on one side of her neck from Sarevok. She didn't know which would have been harder to explain.

In order to try and redirect her sister, Ilyrana had insisted on eating first. A good plan, except that she had to actually eat in order for that diversion to work. Imoen had called down to the kitchens and had a tray of cold cuts, bread, and cheese sent up. Along with several bottles of Berduskan Dark, a heavy, sweet wine with a deceptively high alcohol content. It had put Ilyrana out nearly forty gold to buy the expensive stuff, which was blatant robbery, but it was one of the strongest drinks they had that Ilyrana felt she could stomach with food. And she was desperate enough to hope that the wine would knock her sister out before they were done eating.

It had worked… sort of. As Ilyrana had nibbled on a flaky croissant filled with thin slices of roast beef and a soft white cheese, she unmercifully plied Imoen with drink. Dodging questions and asking about their trek to this place, if there had been any developments with Haer'Dalis (there hadn't), and the town, despite already having got the information from Valygar.

It hadn't been difficult to get her inebriated, as the girl had already been drinking prior to Ilyrana's arrival. No, the snag in her plan had been when Imoen had suddenly burst into drunken tears and thrown herself on the bed, sobbing and trying to explain how happy she was that Rana was alright despite the fact she was crying. Ilyrana had laid with her, brushing her hair back out of her face, trying to decipher the slurred words through the hiccups. She had felt bad for what she was doing, but not enough to do anything differently. She'd just have to make it up to her sister later.

Eventually, the snoring began. Ilyrana had sighed with relief, and rolled onto her back to savor the small victory, only to realize her arm was pinned beneath an unconscious Imoen. After extricating it, and accidentally hurtling herself into a nightstand from the exertion, adding yet another bruise to her already battered body, Ilyrana had downed the remainder of the wine, forced as much food down her throat as she could tolerate, and stumbled into the bathroom.

Alone at last.

Throwing a discarded towel over the vanity mirror above the sink, and then fumbling at the tap on the tub, she began filling it with water as hot as it would go, praying the shoddy inn at least had decent plumbing. As she waited, she began peeling off her clothes and tossing them into a nearby wicker basket. Digging through her bag, she pulled out her chest of soaps, the coarsest piece of cloth she could find for scrubbing, and every article of clothing she brushed against. Tossing the latter into the basket until it was overflowing, she wrapped a scratchy towel around herself and went to put her laundry outside the door for the innkeeper to wash, checking to make sure her sister was still sound asleep on the way.

The water was scalding, just as hot, if not more so, than the hot springs. Resting the back of her head against the rim of the porcelain, she felt her muscles begin to relax for the first time in what felt like years. Goosebumps rippled across her skin, making her shiver and sink a little lower into the water, until it came up to her chin, the tops of her knees just barely breaching the surface.

She floated in and out of consciousness, buoyed by the languid feeling brought on by a full stomach and copious amounts of strong wine.

Scenes from earlier that night played out in her head. Images of what had happened, and what Sarevok had manipulated in her mind, blurred together until she wasn't entirely sure what was real. In her present state, however, reality meant very little to her, so it wasn't hard to become lost in her meanderings, drifting between memories, dreams, ideas, what ifs, and what could bes.

It was only when her nose slipped beneath the water that she woke, sputtering and shivering in the now cold bath. Getting up to peak outside the bathroom door, Ilyrana could see through a far window that it was still night, and her sister still slept, now on her back with one arm thrown across her face.

Deciding that, even though the bathwater was murky from just the long soak, she wanted to be scrubbed clean. Pulling the plug to let it drain, she grabbed the towel again and went to look and see if her clothes had been washed.

They had!

Snatching up the basket, she froze when Anomen suddenly stepped out of a room just down the hall. His back was to her, and he swayed a little as he struggled to get his key into the hole to lock his door behind him. Deciding it was best not to have the drunken man learn of her return from the dead by seeing her fetching her laundry in nothing but a bath towel, she quickly ducked back inside and tiptoed a retreat to the bathroom. Twisting the handle to release the steaming hot water again, she began filling the tub up a second time.

For some reason, she felt like a child again back at Candlekeep, sneaking around the massive library and labyrinthine corridors in order to find naughty books, unattended baked goods, and the occasional copper penny or two. Even though she was an adult now, in a rented room, about to take her second well-deserved bath of the night, while trying to evade the besotted knight in shining armor.

She felt a little cheated that none of those bodice-ripping romance novels she'd read warned her about this kind of situation. Or about the dangers of becoming involved with one's evil half-brother. Then again, those books probably assumed their readers were smart enough to figure that one out on their own without even resorting to trial-and-error.

Creeping yet again into the bedroom, she snagged the half-full glass of red that had been Imoen's before she passed out, cursing herself for not having the presence of mind to buy more of that wine earlier.

Settling herself back in the tub after locking the door, just to be safe, she began lathering her hair, alternating between picking out detritus and untangling the elaborate knots that had formed in it. After ducking her head underwater to wash the cleansing oils out, she loosely pinned the mass up in a bun and began abrading her skin with the washcloth.

She couldn't help herself from thinking about the feel of Sarevok's hands on her skin and in her hair. Not just after their sparring match, but what he had shown her through their soul. Ilyrana hadn't had a clue it could work that way. Or that elaborately, anyway. Her hands slowed in their ministrations as she remembered how strongly he had reacted to her physically.

Before Irenicus, she had been just as meticulous about her appearance as most other young women were. She'd style her hair if they would be staying in a town for longer than a day. She'd kept a hand mirror to ensure her face remained blood and grime free during her travels. Acquiring a new scar was lamented, because it was an imperfection. She'd even worn makeup on more than one occasion.

After Irenicus, Ilyrana never willingly looked into a mirror for longer than a few seconds. The small clay pots that held her makeup had been stealthily integrated into Imoen's collection. Her fingers were the only comb her hair knew, except on the rare occasion an actual comb had to be used in order to pick out shards of bone from her scalp after a particularly brutal battle. New scars meant nothing. Her nicer clothes were ones she'd stolen from her sister to wear when she had nothing clean. Some of her shirts had once belonged to Valygar, or Keldorn, before she'd filched them because they were big, comfy, and smelled good. The rest were tops almost threadbare from travelling, ripped leggings, and very worn-in leather boots of varying styles.

She hadn't owned a dress in years, and the last one she'd worn had been a ceremonial gown for a celebration in Suldanessellar. Where Ilyrana had not given a single fuck what she had looked like during that feast in her honor. All she'd cared about was consuming as much Evermead as she could get her hands on in order to drown out the still-fresh memories of being in Hell with Irenicus. That was the night she'd nearly attacked Queen Elliseme.

Ilyrana could still vividly remember the woman's apology for the misery her decision to exile Irenicus had inflicted upon her. Could still remember her vision going scarlet with fury, the Slayer coiling just beneath the surface in response to her rising bloodlust. Could still see the moment Elliseme realized her mistake in trying to justify her actions to Ilyrana.

When the Queen had attempted to explain herself further, Ilyrana had taken her knife and cut away the laces of her gown, letting the dress fall into a pile at her feet. Ilyrana had stood there before Elliseme, naked, her body trembling with stark hatred and rage, and made her look at what the other woman's decisions had done to her. How Irenicus had carved and burned his obsession with his Queen into Ilyrana's flesh.

She had spent the following six months or so in Suldanessellar. She hadn't wanted to, at first. Being around that many other elves, especially the males, had made her uneasy to say the least. The Queen had promised to help heal Ilyrana's mind, though, to teach her how to move past the horrors inflicted upon her, and to control the darkness tainting her soul. To some extent, Elliseme had succeeded. If temporarily.

Ilyrana's control had certainly improved, and for the first time since the Slayer had ripped its way out of her body, she was confident she could keep it contained. The rest, however… didn't stick. Maybe, if she were a stronger person, a better person, she could have forgiven the Queen, aided the people in the aftermath of their homes being destroyed, and become more enlightened or whatever the fuck they had tried to teach her.

Instead, she had taken what knowledge she felt would benefit her the most in the future, helped rebuild and restore anything that would aid the children there, but refused to assist in anything else. The night she walked out of there, heading towards the stones that would speak to her about her fate, and where Sarevok had appeared to her to bargain for his rebirth, she hadn't said goodbye. No one, not even the Queen, knew that she had left until the following morning.

When she finished scrubbing every inch of her skin, she drained the now dirty brown water and toweled off. Taking a deep, bracing breath, she downed the half glass of wine and turned to the mirror. Reaching out to tug down the towel she had thrown over it, she noticed her hand was shaking. She would never be able to do this sober.

When the last bit of the glass was uncovered, she let the towel slip from her fingers and, for the first time in years, looked at herself.

The first thing she focused on were the scars. The silvery lines on the side of her neck and the torn vampire bite near her shoulder. A fresh, pinkish scar on her chest, another on her lower abdomen, and one on her leg from the crossbow bolts. The jagged scar that wrapped around her right side from Sarevok. Turning to look over her shoulder, she counted the Xs running down her spine. Twelve. She was surprised how little that knowledge, and the sight of them, affected her.

Facing forward again, she followed the curves of her breasts with her eyes, down her tiny waist, her slightly fuller hips, her scarred thighs, and everything in between. She had obviously dropped weight that she already couldn't afford to lose, evidenced by how she could count her ribs. Tilting her head, she tried to look at herself impartially. She knew the effect her appearance had on men in general, and she had preened over it years before, but it was still hard to find herself appealing after everything that had been done to the body.

It was more like looking at a suit of armor. One that had already been used, and thus was no longer pristine, but it's ability to fulfill it's purpose hadn't been hampered. She had come to find it's marred surface to be a reminder of what it had endured. Not just as a physical representation of the damage, but also a reassurance that it can hold up to further mistreatment because it had already proven itself to be resilient.

Perhaps that was another reason why she took such little care of it these days. She ate enough to survive, but not to thrive. She put forth the barest minimum of efforts to properly nourish and sustain her body, unwittingly punishing it for, in her mind, its role in the agony that had been inflicted upon her. Ilyrana had, in essence, become as cruel an abuser to it as others had been.

Strange. She'd never thought of it like that before.

Raising a hand to her neck, she traced the healing cut on her throat, then the red bite marks that dotted one side of it. Stepping closer to the mirror, her eyes finally met the gaze of her reflection. Saw the dark shadows beneath them. Noted how cold her expression was. Her skin had become rapidly paler as the redness from the hot water faded. Only a few shades shy of alabaster. Making her hair even darker in contrast. Imoen had been right about her almost-vampiric appearance.

Breaking the stare, having looked into her own eyes as long as she was able to, Ilyrana finally noticed the faint bruises around her waist. Lightly, she touched her fingers to them, remembering the raw strength of the hands of the one who gave them to her. It was because of him that she was facing herself in the mirror. Because of the possessive way he'd clutched her to him, and the way his dark eyes had consumed her, making her feel simultaneously vulnerable against such intensity and yet powerful because of how desperate he had been for her.

Truthfully, she still didn't know what to think of all this. If they didn't have so much history, had they met under vastly different circumstances, it wouldn't be perplexing at all. She was a being of power, a creature of violence and destruction. He was a paragon of those things. Like called to like. She would have wanted him the moment she saw him, to throw herself against that arrogance and cunning, knowing he could weather her storm. Knowing he wouldn't balk at the darkness in her blood, because he shared it. Reveled in it, as she secretly longed to do.

She had told Valygar there wouldn't be a next time, and while she could obstinately deny that that power play with their soul had been a 'next time', she couldn't pretend it's effect was any different than if it had been real. She also couldn't discount the list of reasons why bedding him was a terrible idea.

Perhaps, if she knew it would only be the one time, she'd do it without much reservation. She could scratch this itch with no one the wiser and then move on. The problem was that it might not be just once. And the longer this affair was drawn out, the likelier it would be discovered. And once it was brought to light, all Hell would break loose. She couldn't afford that. Not this late in the game. Not when she was this close to finally being free of fate, and destiny, and prophecies, and being just another pawn of the gods.

A tiny part of her, though, wanted to throw caution to the wind and just be selfish. To give herself to him, come what may. It was her body, her life. How many times had this kind of choice been stripped from her? So rarely did she have a say in what happened to her. If the others had a problem what could they do? She and Sarevok were too strong to take on together, and if her companions left, there were others who could replace them. Remembering their battle against the mercenary army, and how many just the two of them had slain, she couldn't help but wonder how much more powerful they could become. If they could fully trust in, and work with, each other. If they could become what they had planned to be when they were children.

Leaning down, Ilyrana plucked a long-sleeved shirt out of the basket of freshly laundered clothes and slipped it over her head. Next, her smallclothes, followed by a woolen pair of loose fitting pajama pants. Stepping out of the bathroom, she idly began braiding her hair over her shoulder as she studied her sleeping sister.

Ilyrana could accept the repercussions of taking Sarevok for a lover, all of them, except for Imoen. She knew her little sister would never accept it.

So no, there wouldn't, couldn't, be a next time. Not if it meant losing the only thing left in this dark world that truly mattered to her. The only thing good.

Blowing out a few of the candles on the nightstand, she slipped into bed, pulling the sheet up over herself and Imoen. Reaching out, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her sister's ear, smiling a little as the girl mumbled something incoherent in her sleep.

No, if she had to choose, her choice was already made. And she would have to choose if she tried to have both.

Still, even knowing this, she felt that tug of loneliness again. After all, before she loved Imoen, or anyone else, she had loved Sarevok first.

Sarevok

Heading down the stairs, tense with exhaustion from a restless night plagued by dreams of her, Sarevok scanned the dining room. Two tables of mercenaries sat huddled over their breakfast, talking amongst themselves. Keldorn and Valygar sat at a table on the opposite end of the room.

As he approached the other men, the ranger glanced up at him, motioned to the chair beside him, and leaned back, sipping his coffee.

"So, I expect you've noticed by now that we're short a Bhaalspawn or two," Valygar said as Sarevok poured his own cup of coffee.

"Where are they?"

"Somewhere here in town. Haer'Dalis is tailing them to make sure they don't get into any trouble, intentional or otherwise."

Sarevok studied the men. Valygar looked almost gleeful, like he'd just heard a joke and was eager to share it. Keldorn appeared equal parts amused and exasperated.

"And?"

"I'm surprised you didn't hear the commotion earlier this morning. Apparently, Rana and Imoen woke up to a rather large spider trying to crawl into bed with them. Now, the term 'large' here apparently has differing meanings to them, because one swears it was the size of a dinner plate, and the other adamantly believes it was at least as big as a dog. Both of them, though, decided they wouldn't be staying another minute in this inn, and said they were going to search for accommodation elsewhere."

"You're telling me we're leaving because they saw a spider? They've fought dragons-"

"I tried to point that out as well, and received a very loud lesson in how the number of legs and eyes a creature has is what determines how terrifying it is. Dragons, having the 'acceptable' amount of limbs and eyes, are a far more preferable foe to a dinner plate or dog sized arachnid."

Keldorn slid a plate of food towards him and picked up the story.

"The bard was kind enough to relay a message to us just a few moments ago that says, and I quote, 'Our lovely birds have found a new roost. Be prepared to do your own laundry.'"

For some reason, none of this conversation sat well with him. He decided he might as well eat while he had the chance. He'd deal with whatever Ilyrana was scheming once she returned. In the meantime, there was much to think about.

Sarevok hadn't meant to ensnare her with his half of their soul. He didn't know what had possessed him to even try it. He hadn't even known something like that were possible. Replaying their mock fight and the aftermath over and over again, he just hadn't been ready to relinquish her to her companions.

But once he'd had her, and the possibilities of what he could do began to unfold, he couldn't stop himself from toying with her. Showing her the means of escape, then giving her every reason not to want to use it, was far more satisfying than he could admit. All she had to do was tell him to stop. It had taken her longer than he'd expected. Long enough that he'd begun to drown in the very fantasy he'd created. Next time, he would be better prepared.

"Ah, I see Anomen has finally decided to grace us with his presence," Valygar mumbled as he watched the young man trudge wearily down the steps and begin making his way toward the bar.

"Someone told him about Rana, correct?" Keldorn asked. "Please tell me you did."

Valygar apologetically shook his head while Sarevok merely raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of directing that question anywhere near him.

"Torm help me," the old paladin murmured before rising and intercepting the man.

Sarevok watched the Helmite raise his head and look directly at him, his bloodshot eyes widening in shock to see him alive. He could tolerate Rana's companions for the most part, but the Harper, and especially the priest, he would have her do away with if he could convince her to do so. Better yet would be if he could bury them, but they would have to do something to make Rana acquiesce to executing them.

He doubted Jaheira had it in her to do anything horrible enough, or treacherous enough, to push the girl that far. Even if she belonged to a group who'd done far worse than even he had. Anomen on the other hand...

His own intentions for the girl were far from pure, but the priest's were just as suspect, if not more so. Sarevok had seen plenty of men like him in Baldur's Gate. He recognized that calculating, obsessed, look. Knew it was only a matter of time before Anomen grew tired of pursuing something he could not have. And, instead, try and take it by force. He had his doubts that he actually had the balls to take on Rana, and risk the Slayer's immediate retribution, but desperation and disillusionment were powerful motivators.

And now the Helmite knew of Ilyrana's return.

As the two stared at one another, Sarevok felt his eyes begin to glow in response to his mounting rage. Anomen coveted what would be his. The fool's days were numbered.

"Easy, Anchev. We don't want to give those sellswords a reason to look twice at us."

"Let them look twice. They'll fall just as quickly as the priest."

"I don't like him either, but he hasn't done anything to justify being executed."

"Yet."

"You want to murder a man because he may do something to deserve it in the future? You of all people should understand-"

"Don't pretend you don't know what Anomen wants, Valygar. That he isn't one of the reasons you rarely let her out of your sight."

"Of course I know what he wants. He's been making it painfully obvious for as long as he's been around. It's the same thing you want."

"Then you should understand why I want him dead."

"Funny. I didn't take you for the insecure type."

"I have no concern whatsoever that she will suddenly decide she wants the priest. He's had years to court her and failed. My concern, and one I believe that you share as well, is that he's going to grow tired of pathetically pining after her and do something stupid."

Valygar didn't immediately reply. Sarevok reigned in his temper and broke the stare with Anomen. It infuriated him that he couldn't act on his impulses, and cull the weak and foolish from this company. Adjusting to obeying and following another had been difficult. He'd faked it often enough with Rieltar to know how, but he much preferred calling the shots. Though, despite his earlier words to her on the subject, Ilyrana was incredibly skilled at leading. Especially considering what she had to work with.

"I almost killed you last night," Valygar said softly. "When I saw you with her. I wasn't sure if what the two of you were doing was consensual. For a few seconds, at least."

"And now that you know it was? You said the priest and I both want the same thing. Tell me, ranger, why is it you do your best to keep him away from her, yet you haven't foolishly tried the same with me?"

"Because you know what she is. And I think you want her because of it, not in spite of it. Yoshimo feared her. Anomen can't see past the pretty face and harrowing destiny to truly understand what it is he wants to get in bed with. You do. I don't fully trust you, I don't fully trust anyone, but I do trust her. I also know you're not stupid, and you've seen the Slayer, so I don't think I have to threaten you about hurting her, because there won't be anything left of you for me to kill once it's done with you."

Sarevok decided, then and there, that he liked the man. He also made a note that, if he found himself in a situation where he would have to kill some of her companions, Valygar would be his first target. Such loyalty was rare, and deadly when used properly. Sarevok wondered how Ilyrana had earned it.

"And what is she, Valygar?"

The ranger gazed steadily at him, his face passive, before smiling a little sadly.

"She's her father's daughter."

"My lady!" Anomen exclaimed, loud enough to quiet the room and have everyone turn to look at him before turning to look at the front door.

Ilyrana and Imoen entered the dining room, both of them looking simultaneously mischievous and triumphant, and Sarevok wished he'd cut the Helmite in half like he had fantasized about doing.

It was immediately obvious that she'd actually gotten some sleep during the night. The shadows under her eyes were lighter, her skin a little less pale, her eyes a little clearer. For perhaps the second time since his resurrection, she'd left her hair down, so that it fell in sable waves down her back, the tips just brushing her waist. The shirt she wore hung off one shoulder, exposing the silken skin that he wanted to sink his teeth back into. He wanted to pluck out every set of eyes that had a cock attached to them.

In her hand, she twirled a scroll of parchment. She had looked up at Anomen's exclamation, and smiled in greeting, before turning her gaze to Keldorn, then Valygar, and lastly Sarevok.

Her face gave nothing away as to what was happening inside that head of hers, and she looked away too quickly for him to try and read anything.

Grabbing a chair at their table, Ilyrana turned it so she could straddle it, while Imoen did the same with the chair next to her. The two of them moving in tandem like that made that feeling of unease from earlier come roaring back to the fore.

"Alright, where's Jaheira and Viconia?"

"They were both down earlier this morning for breakfast, but I think they retired to their rooms," Keldorn answered.

"Can you ask them to come down here?"

Keldorn bowed his head and left to retrieve them.

"Where's Haer'Dalis?" Imoen asked, looking around.

"He's been following us all morning, I expect he'll walk through the door any minute."

"He has?! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh. I thought you knew. He's not exactly the stealthiest. And you can smell the sulfur from pretty far away."

"I don't have your sense of smell, Rana."

"My apologies for your inferior human senses."

"Rana, Keldorn's only just told me, I thought you were… well, I'm glad you're alive," Anomen said, obviously trying to control his emotions. And failing.

"Me too," Ilyrana replied with a small smile.

"Alright, so do I need to make a public service announcement about spiders surpassing dragons in terms of the dangers they pose to the common folk?" Valygar asked in a serious tone.

Two pairs of eyes fell on the ranger and narrowed.

"You can joke all you like," Ilyrana said archly. "But unless you're volunteering to kill them when they appear in our bedrooms, you don't get to complain about the measures we feel we must take in order to assure our own safety. And peace of mind."

"Measures meaning fleeing the building and moving camp," Sarevok responded dryly.

"I don't hear you offering to kill them either," Ilyrana shot back.

"I shouldn't have to. They're spiders-"

"My lady, I have no objections to killing the things," Anomen interjected.

Sarevok saw Valygar quickly raise his mug to his lips to hide his grin, while purposefully avoiding looking at anyone.

"Thanks, Annie! That one should still be in our room, here's the key," Imoen said cheerfully and tossed the key to the man. "Oh, and don't forget to dispose of its corpse and clean up any mess you may have had to make whilst battling it."

"How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?"

"Oops. Sorry, Annie. I won't anymore, I promise."

Sarevok feared Valygar's attempts to contain his laughter might result in an apoplexy.

"It can wait a minute, Anomen," Ilyrana said before the priest could embark on his quest. "We have an announcement to make once the others get here."

"There's Haer'Dalis," Imoen exclaimed as the tiefling walked through the door.

Sarevok watched Ilyrana watch her sister, gauging the other girl's reaction to the Bard's appearance.

"Was I being awaited? I'm sorry, my birds, this sparrow needed to stretch his wings and-"

"We know you were following us," both girls chorused.

"Humph. Well, you could have slowed your grueling pace, then. I'm afraid I'm not as young as I appear to be."

"You got winded just by walking around town?" Sarevok drawled.

"No, he got winded from all the pickpocketing he was doing while trying to keep an eye on us while also trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to avoid detection."

Haer'Dalis gave Ilyrana a sullen, wounded look. She gave him an almost innocent looking smile. The Bard's lips quirked up at the edges as he fought to remain unfazed by it. Losing that battle, he sighed dramatically and collapsed into the chair Keldorn had vacated to begin rifling through his "earnings".

Keldorn began making his way down the stairs with Jaheira in tow.

"Ooh, gimme that fire opal ring," Ilyrana whispered and reached out to pluck it from Haer'Dalis.

"You don't get to share in the spoils if you did not partake in the effort to earn them, my raven," he chided, turning in the chair to avoid her.

"I'll trade you this diamond necklace I snagged," she countered, digging in her pouch.

"Diamonds are worth far more than opals, bufflehead."

"But they're far less pretty."

"I won't argue that," Haer'Dalis agreed and made the trade under the table before the paladin saw them.

"You two should feel ashamed," Valygar murmured, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Hey, we stole these fair and square, so they're ours to do with as we please."

"Besides, that diamond necklace is gorgeous and as soon as Haer'Dalis let's his guard down, it's mine," Imoen quipped.

"Perhaps you would have better luck with petty larceny if you didn't announce your target and your method for extraction, my wildflower."

"What if I said I was going to try and seduce you for it, instead?"

"You're still announcing your intentions," Sarevok said.

"No one asked you, and I think I know a little bit more about thievery than you do."

"Though a lot less of seduction if your obvious technique is anything to go by."

"You've never seen me use my 'techniques' so your opinion means nothing."

"Thank the gods for that."

"Alright, we're just waiting on Viconia," Keldorn announced as he and the druid joined them.

Sarevok watched Ilyrana cast a wary glance at Jaheira then look away before their gazes met. It wasn't surprising. Ilyrana's reaction to that Protection from Evil spell definitely would have been cause for alarm. Some sort of talk must be coming and she knew it. He wondered if the Harper's overbearing nature might end up working in his favor.

Leaning back in his chair, and reaching out with his half of their soul, he tried to get an idea of what was going through Ilyrana's mind. He watched her eyes lock onto him and narrow as she felt him briefly make contact. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, trying to warn him off.

He turned his gaze to the paladin, who had begun explaining why Viconia was taking so long. He didn't care what he had to say, he just wanted Ilyrana to put her guard down a little. Without looking at her, he tried again.

She must have anticipated this because, as soon as he reached out, she struck. Exactly as he had the previous night. Completely unprepared for her assault, it took him a moment to orient himself.

Mercilessly, she formed a vision in his head before he could mount a defense. The others disappeared. It was just the two of them now.

He stopped struggling.

He watched her rise from her chair and begin slowly walking around the table towards him, her nails lightly skimming the surface of the wood. Her eyes glowed brighter as she neared him. She stopped once she stood beside him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn't give her the chance. Pushing back, he briefly won control of this little scenario. His arm shot out, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her into his lap, so that she was straddling him as she had just been doing to the chair.

He felt her fight back, trying to regain dominance. He let her half of their soul have it, relinquishing his foothold. For now.

Sliding her hands up his chest, she leaned forward until her breasts pressed against him, her back arching just as her lips brushed his throat.

Did you honestly think I was going to let you do this again?

Her voice rolled through his mind, already husky with desire. Her nails softly raked the back of his neck and her teeth grazed an earlobe. Her intoxicating scent washed over him, momentarily blocking out his ability to think. As much as he wanted to see what she'd do, he couldn't remain passive. Couldn't possibly go without touching her.

Give me some control, Rana.

Why would I do that?

Because you want to.

She pondered his request for a moment, pressing small, almost chaste kisses down the side of his neck as she did so.

Alright, just a little.

Immediately his hands wrapped around her hips, squeezing as he lowered his mouth to her shoulder so he could nip at the skin there; as he had been longing to do since she walked in.

A small sound escaped her lips and she went still for just a moment, her breathing becoming ragged as his tongue flicked against the scar he found there. Then she began to move.

He couldn't stop from groaning as her hips rolled up and then back, grinding against his lap. His thumbs slipped beneath her shirt, teasing the sensitive skin just above her belt.

Her head fell back and her hands slid to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as she languidly moved against him. He reached up to wrap a length of her hair in his fist, keeping her head pulled back, leaving her throat open to his teeth. She bore down harder on him, whimpering when he thrust up against her.

Releasing her hair, his hand slid to wrap around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her breaths quicken. His thumb then glided up to brush across her bottom lip. He hissed in a breath when he felt her tongue flick against it before she drew it between her lips, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked.

Look at me.

Her eyes met his, half-lidded, glowing like candlelight. Breathing out a curse, the hand at her waist slid up her shirt to cup a breast.

Logic and reason left him. The fact that all of this wasn't real faded away. That they weren't actually alone, but among the others, did not matter at all. He wanted inside her, one way or another. Now.

You're mine, Ilyrana.

He snarled at her, readying to assume complete dominion over this vision, and her. It was at that moment that she struck again, wresting back full control, thus stripping him of the power she'd given him.

I think not.

She vanished, only to reappear out of his reach, with the table standing between them. Her eyes still smoldered, but her expression had gone cold.

Stay out of my head, Sarevok. Keep your half of my soul on your end, and I'll do the same with mine. No more of these tricks and illusions. I will not let you endanger everything I've fought and bled for.

Rage burned through him at her words. This was all a game? Though nothing like the one he had played last night. She had intentionally teased him, rousing his desire to a fever pitch just to draw away. For what purpose? What was he endangering?

What are you talking about?

You can't look outside yourself for just a moment to consider what I'd be risking? What I stand to lose?

This was about her sister? And perhaps the others, as well, but Imoen always factored into everything Rana did. And didn't do. Her attachment to the girl was holding her back from far more than just him. He had to make her see that.

You risk NOTHING! You stand to lose NOTHING! You are a child of Bhaal. How can you possibly bend to the whims of others when they are beneath you? You want this, I can feel it in OUR soul.

Yes, I do, but-

But NOTHING! Tell me you haven't wanted this since our talk about the memories. Tell me you haven't ALWAYS wanted this, even if you couldn't admit it to yourself. It took me awhile to realize it, too, Rana, and even longer to accept it, but ever since the night I saw you outside of Candlekeep, I've wanted to claim you as my own. I just couldn't see past the taint and my hate. I can now. And I know you can, too.

She looked away from him and closed her eyes, all but confirming what he said was true. After taking a deep breath, she turned back to him.

What I want doesn't matter-

It DOES matter, you little fool!

He tried reigning in his temper, knowing that lashing out at her would only cement her decision. But gods it was difficult when she was trying to run away from him. When just moments ago she had nearly been his.

Rana listen to me, you and I are not like those you surround yourself with. We aren't even like our kin. We are greater. And, together we can be more than we ever could be alone. Give yourself to me and I will not rest until all of your foes are dead at our feet. Until you can claim what's rightfully yours.

And what is rightfully mine, Sarevok?

He should have picked up on the careful tone of her thoughts. Should have remembered that foolish, stubborn commitment to her sister. Should have eased her into this discussion only when he was certain she was open to see reason, like she tended to be when she was away from the others. His lust for her body, as well as her power, though, blinded him.

Your birthright, little one. I truly believe that you could be the one Alaundo's Prophecy spoke of. How could you not be? Look at everything you've done. At everything you've overcome. Rana, you and I swore we would be unstoppable one day. That when we grew up, none could stand before us, because nothing could come between us. Look at us now. We are so much stronger than we ever imagined we could be. If you can trust me, we can fulfill our vows to one another. And once the rest has fallen before our might, you will ascend, and become what I could not. Think of it! You, the new Lady of Murder.

And what of you? What would you become?

Whatever you desired me to be. With your blessing, I could lead your armies and crush any who displeased you. I would conquer nations in your name. Men would tremble at just the thought of your wrath, I would make sure of it. Nothing could stop us, Rana. Nothing.

Is that what this has all been about? Your fucking ambition? Gods, how could I have not seen it?! You try and chastise me for caring for Imoen while pushing your own selfish agenda. How could I have let myself forget for a single instant how you are?!

Rana, wait, you misunderstand-

I misunderstand nothing! You thought to seduce me so you could start whispering your schemes into my ear and start twisting everything I am to suit your purpose. To turn me into a more pliant version of you. So you could wield the only power that's available to you now that godhood is off the table. And you DARE bring up what we promised each other when we were younger? You don't deserve to even possess that memory! You are everything that we hated as children. Everything we yearned to destroy.

Damnit, girl, listen to me!

I've heard enough. Stay the fuck out of my head, Sarevok. I will not be your plaything. And you better hope I don't decide to become your goddess, because I swear to you I will make you suffer.

Pain flared in his head as she viciously broke the link between them, slapping his half away from her own.

"My lady, are you well?" Anomen asked, resting his hand on Rana's shoulder and studying her as she zoned back into the world around them.

"I'm fine. Just tired. Been a long morning," she replied, shrugging the priest off and rising to her feet.

He was startled to see that not nearly as much time had gone by as he thought. A minute or two perhaps, and Viconia was just now making her way down the stairs.

Keldorn looked at the two of them, reading far more into what had just happened than the others could. His brow furrowed in concern, but he said nothing at the moment.

"What is this all about, abbil? Why did you have this fossil come fetch me?"

"Come now, Viconia, I'm not that old. Surely, you-"

"In light of the recent spider assault, Imoen and I decided to search for nicer, cleaner, bug-free lodgings," Ilyrana spoke over the paladin, her tone almost flat.

The excitement that had been there before their quarrel was gone now.

"We found a recently vacated estate for sale near the outskirts of town. Fully furnished."

Ilyrana broke the wax seal around the scroll in her hand and unrolled it before placing it on the table.

"You bought a house?" Valygar asked in surprise.

"We bought a house," Imoen corrected, pointing to her signature below Rana's.

Sarevok stared at her, his head throbbing. He cursed himself for springing his plan on her without having had any time to ease her into it. But, he had felt her slipping out of his grasp, clinging to the dead weight that was her love for Imoen. He had to try and make her see reason, make her see that she could be so much more if he were at her side. If she allowed him to guide her to her full potential.

What was infuriating, though, was that, had he not mentioned the prophecy, or her ascension, he was almost positive he could have at least changed her mind about being with him. She had wavered in her convictions, torn between what she wanted and what she thought she should want. He had felt it, and should have capitalized on it. Should have persuaded her to bind herself more to him before he did anything else.

"How big is it?"

"How many rooms are there?"

"Am I going to have to share a bathroom with you rivven?"

"Wait, did you say we're going to have to do our own laundry?"

"Can we hire housekeepers?"

The voices of the others rose as they began to badger Ilyrana and Imoen with questions. It did nothing to improve his headache.

"Alright, listen," Ilyrana raised her voice to be heard over the din. "If you want servants, you can pay their wages, since I bought the place. And you need to do a thorough interview of them first, please. If I find out one of you hired an assassin or informant, I'm going to be irate. There's plenty of space, so there shouldn't be too much fighting over bedrooms, but if you want to dispute a claimed room, you have twenty four hours to throw down the gauntlet and settle it in a non-lethal way of your choosing. The exception being that Imoen and I have already chosen our rooms and the place is in our names so those aren't up for dispute. In the meantime, I have some errands to run and I know some of you want to organize and restock your gear, settle in, explore town, or help the locals, so we're not going anywhere for the next three days."

"Rana, I'd like a word, please," Keldorn said, waiting off to the side as everyone began shuffling to their rooms to begin packing their things.

"Not right now," Ilyrana replied, rolling the deed back up and handing it off to her sister. "I have some business to take care of, Keldorn, you can speak to me tonight or in the morning."

Sarevok watched the paladin start to argue, then think better of it.

"As you will."

"Is someone going with you, godchild?" Jaheira asked. "It's not safe to go out into this place alone when we still don't know too much about it. Not to mention-"

"No, Jaheira, I need to do this alone. When you're all ready to leave, Imoen will show you where our new place is at."

"My lady, before you return to your room, let me make sure the spider is gone."

There was a squelching thud off by the foot of the stairs, and everyone looked up to see what had caused it. Viconia stood at the top of the stairs, hip against the banister, leisurely cleaning her dagger with a piece of cloth. On the ground, lay the curled remains of a dead, dog sized, spider.

"Abbil, next time one of these bothers you, please inform me. I do so enjoy disposing of them."

Anomen let out a displeased, put out, sound. Ilyrana's lips twitched, almost into a smile, before she bowed her head to the drow, and began making her way towards the stairs and to her room. Giving the dessicated corpse a wide berth.

"Valygar-" Jaheira began, turning to the ranger, but he cut her off.

"I'll keep an eye on her."

"Thank you," she replied in an almost formal tone.

Valygar brushed past her without replying.

Sarevok watched all of this unfold. The Helmite's thwarted attempt at slaying a spider in order to gain his lady's favor. The way the druid and the ranger seemed to barely tolerate speaking civilly to one another. The paladin's obvious reluctance to let Ilyrana leave without speaking to her; and the way the man's gaze kept coming back to rest on him. When Keldorn eventually turned to him, Sarevok pinned him with a glare, rose from the table, and began heading toward the room he'd barely been able to snag last night.

He'd give her some time to cool off. They weren't leaving this town for three days. So he had plenty of time to get his thoughts in order, in private, where he couldn't get distracted by the sight and scent of her.

Sarevok wasn't ready to cede the battle to her just yet. He would respect her demand to stay out of her head, especially now that he knew she could turn the tables on him so effectively. Besides, there were other, more traditional methods of seduction.

As he finished ascending the stairs, he felt the space on his back, between his shoulders, tingle. Turning, he locked eyes with Imoen who was standing by the front door. She had obviously been watching him for some time, though he hadn't any idea why. The girl stared unblinkingly up at him, long enough to begin making him uncomfortable, and he started to get the impression she was seeing straight into him.

His eyes began to glow in anger at her impertinence. Slowly, she turned her back on him. His unease began to fade. Shaking his head, he continued on to his room, cursing the irritating nature of female bhaalspawn.