Fates
"Talk to me" he asked. And so she did.
"The inn-owner, the oldest of the three… Rina. Her husband cheated on her, so she threw him out. He died a year later, in the desert. She doesn't know. She's wondering about him right now, looking into the horizon, that's what triggered the vision, I think. The youngest, Imalia, is pregnant. The child will be born early, a girl. She'll be sickly, but survive. The man who came with a caravan, the one by the bar… Because of his actions, the souls of his wife and daughter were taken by a powerful lich..."
The caravan came to the oasis, a group of twenty or more people with camels and goods. Daria's party was preparing to depart the next morning. The rest was nice, but it was getting quite crowded and it was time for them to face the fates once more.
With each person, a past and a slew of futures opened before Daria. The moment she relaxed, they flooded her with thousand important little moments, devouring her attention. It took a lot of effort to come back to the present and little to get lost again.
"I should note it… A lich's lair could be a good source of magical items. And we can still save the daughter." Daria took a diary Imoen gave her. She and Jaheira insisted the diviner noted most of what she saw. It was their plan to force Daria to open up more, to let them know what was going on in her head. The elf talked too little and there wasn't enough time for her to work out this bad habit.
"I'll remember it, but for now… Perhaps we should go somewhere more peaceful?" Xan was given the diary to read also. It was hard to get through Daria's bad writing, but he committed each line she wrote to memory.
Night has already freed the desert from the scorching heat, but there was no way the diviner would fall asleep with that many people around her. Besides, the starry sky over the desert was a pure delight compared to the clouded skies painted with smoke she was used to seeing over Saradush. It reminded Daria of the nights on the tallest tower of Candlekeep, spent learning astronomy with the monks. She took a bedroll, ready to sleep outside. Hesitating, Xan took his.
He didn't hear Imoen's comment, only saw the overly dramatic disapproving eye-roll the thief gave him. He did hear Jaheira's reply.
"Oh, leave them be, Imoen" the druidess did quite a good impersonation of the blonde thief. "You sound like a grumpy bat." The conversation usually worked the other way around.
Daria was already at a distance. She picked a spot by the water, under a palm tree. Xan caught up and placed his bedroll nearby. The sun elf in turn closed the gap between the two beddings. None spoke up. They were both afraid words would fail them, lead them back to the twisted, guild-ridden past. So they chose those small gestures to communicate instead.
For now they ignored the beddings, taking time to prepare the spells, setting basic alarms and making sure everything was prepared should an emergency arise. Those were rare with Daria's talents, but she insisted everything needed to be packed, spellbooks especially, should they need to abandon camp in haste. Daria took off some of her rings and amulets – most stayed on at all times – hid them in her bag and took out a light blanket. Nights on the desert could be freezing, but she preferred to rely on a spell rather than cloth, to keep herself warm.
They laid down at the same time, turning to each other. It was dark already, but their sight was sharper than human's, they could each see every frown, every sign of discomfort, should it appear on the other's face. Xan began, moving his hand to the edge of his blanket, the border that separated them. He didn't cross it. It was a gentle invitation.
Daria took it, moving closer to entwine their fingers. His hand was warm – there was no need to adjust the spell to create a warmer micro-climate. His thumb stroked her index finger.
This was – could be – her turn. Should she choose.
She shifted on her bedroll to line her shoulder with the border. This was the question they were asking each other – where were they going? She waited.
He shifted too, now shoulder-to-shoulder with her, hand in hand. They were so close, should he want, their noses would touch. He seemed to not mind… Daria nudged him, smiling, for the first time tonight.
Now it was getting risky, crossing this line. The last time… Xan couldn't forget their first voyage on Galante, but they went back on the very same ship. The trip was very different then. This could all end in a disaster one more time. Xan felt its patient weight on his chest.
With a sigh he let go of Daria's hand and put his arm under her head, opening his arms to her. Now he was partly on her side of the bedrolls. He looked up at the stars, beautiful, without a doubt… but lucky? They never seemed lucky, above him.
His beloved moved to the nook of his arm, pulling her blanket to cover both of them, hugging his chest. He felt her warmth seeping into his body, to the very center.
They could kiss. They could do more. They could talk about the stars and the sky and nothing important for hours, days… What he wanted was to tell her what he felt, honestly, this time.
There was only silence in the darkness, but he knew she didn't sleep.
"Xan… I..." she was hesitant to speak up. There was no right thing to say right now. All seemed false, forced. As if the fact that the silence wasn't uncomfortable between them anymore was the best they could ask for. As if breaking it meant being ungrateful for this small miracle. But there were too many words held back for it to be enough. "I saw… remembered my mother. She was a priestess of Bhaal. When I was born, she gave me a name – Nonaphir. Born to Death or..."
"Born to Die." He sighed. Yes, he taught her that much elven. Not only an evil father, but a mother also. A woman like her. Unbelievable. "By my parents I was named Tahlimil. Bound to the Blade."
"We both were given a fate at the day of birth, weren't we?"
"No. It was still my decision to take my sire's Moonblade, no one else's. And you… you don't have to..." he felt his voice fail him.
She pulled him closer, the warmth of her body looking to conquer the sudden chill he felt. He needed to tell her.
"Melamin… Whenever I told you, before, that I love you… Each time it felt like a lie" he confessed. He felt her stiffen. "I needed… I had to make it like a lie, unreal. Because Daria, if you die, if I have to bury you… It will destroy me, do you understand? It would be easier if it was just a crush, a silly fleeting thing… But it isn't and it won't be. I love you. And I will never stop."
He loved her. How could he love her? He was never supposed to, not outside the silly little fantasies in her head she abandoned long time ago. She never did anything to deserve it. Daria gazed into Xan's eyes trying to see what he saw in this mess of a person, in this elf – not really an elf; in a Bhaalspawn – really didn't want to be a Bhaalspawn; this vegabond, outcast wherever she'd go.
And she couldn't guess, but saw it clear as day. The look of devotion, caring, love so obvious that grasped her heart and held it dearly, unable to let go, no matter how bad things gotten.
She still didn't understand, but swore to cling to this love as long as she'd be able.
She moved up, closed the space between their lips.
"I love you too" she whispered. He felt tears on her face as they kissed. Maybe that's why it felt more like a defeat than a victory.
A/N: Back to the regular schedule, new chapter on Sunday. Thank you for the review!
