A/N: So this was inspired by my own playthrough of Divinty: Original Sin 2. I finally got around to cleaning it up and publishing. Reviews are always appreciated, especially because I have a couple more chapters of rough drafts laying around.
- Kravor
The Bard, Lohse, and the Prince eagerly began to loot the area whilst trying to look like they were not enthusiastic grave robbers, which he supposed they all were. The red-scaled Lizard continued to strut around, somehow managing to keep an air of snobbish indifference even as he pocketed a silver goblet inlaid with precious gems. Lohse, in contrast, whistled a jaunty tune as she sifted through chests and piles of gold, tossing anything that caught her eye into a steadily-growing burlap sack.
He frowned as he eyed the heavy sack. She'd probably try to get him or the Prince to carry it for her. Again.
Wandering down the corridor a short ways, he came upon another room. This one was all bare stone as opposed to the wood-paneled walls and floor of the previous, the only decoration being a statue kneeling on a pedestal in the center. Oddly enough, the statue was missing both its hands and its head, leaving only a body clad in robes and two feathered wings sprouting from its back.
He supposed it wouldn't be too hard to add sacrilege to the list of Braccus Rex's crimes. The man had certainly done worse, after all.
He found himself wandering into the room, eyeing the statue critically for a reason he couldn't place. Something just felt… off.
Given that he was in an ancient vault filled with booby-traps and a self-resurrecting skeletal necromancer guardian, everything was off about the situation. The buzz in the back of his skull that usually preceded his magic use was a constant drone in his ears, as if he'd been hit in the head with a wand.
Which had happened, once. Not his proudest moment.
"Found anything interesting?" came a sultry voice behind him. Thankfully he managed not to jump this time and settled for glaring over his shoulder at the familiar figure in the doorway.
"Just this," he replied casually, doing his best to ignore the way she sauntered into the room. 'Sauntered' may have been too generous, she practically glided into the room, hips swaying slightly with each measured step. Despite himself, his eyes caught the way one dagger at her waist bounced against the flesh of a smooth thigh. He was fairly sure she did it on purpose.
The sideways look she shot him, all-knowing with a teasing smirk, told him enough.
Vixen. He grumbled internally, tearing his eyes off her slim form and back to the significantly less attractive statue of some god.
Her arms came to rest over his shoulders, hands clasped on top of his chest. Her bosom ghosted against his back. He could smell her now, something sweet and earthen, and just barely feel her breath tickling his ear. A lover's embrace to most, but he didn't miss the way she drew a nail down the side of his throat. He refused to show any sign of discomfort as his ire began to rear its head again. Let her play her games.
"There's something… other here", she remarked.
He gave an agreeable noise before noticing a crack at the base of the pedestal, one he was sure wasn't there before.
He raised one hand. "Do you see that-"
There was a sudden flash of light.
He blinked, looking around. He stood on some kind of platform, made of blue crystal and seemingly floating in a bluish-white void. On either side rose cliffs of the same blue crystal, disappearing above and blow as far as he could see. The platform was deserted save for him.
He started when he realized he couldn't feel Sebille's weight on him and whirled around, confirming that he was, indeed, alone in this odd landscape. His surprise continued as he turned back toward the platform and saw a radiant figure of golden light standing in the center.
The light faded slightly, revealing knightly armor and visor that obscured any facial features. He made to ask the being's name when it suddenly opened one hand and a glowing blade of starfire coalesced in its palm. The figure pointed the sword at him and began to advance.
"I'm not here for a fight" he said to the approaching knight, palms flat and facing outwards. He still had his blade strapped to his side, but honestly? It was getting annoying that everything wanted to kill him. In fact, the only things not trying to kill him were his companions, and even that was subject to change.
The iridescent phantom stopped when its blade nicked at his chest.
"Fight!" it suddenly roared at him.
Well. Now he was getting somewhere.
"No. Tell me what's going on here" he deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. Not so easy to do with armor and at swordpoint, but he made it work well enough.
In a flash, the glowing knight was suddenly behind him and grabbing by his short hair. The shining blade was pressed against his jugular, deep enough to slice his throat open from the merest twitch from either of them.
"You are to be my Champion!?" It roared again. "You who would not even take up arms to defend yourself!? Perhaps I wasted my time saving you from that sinking ship!".
He jerked his head backwards, feeling his throat cut open as his skull collided with his opponent's helmet.
The shining knight gave a surprised noise as it stumbled backward, reflexively clutching the metal that covered it's nose. He felt his torn throat suddenly close up, the flesh knitting back together without a drop of blood. Somehow, he knew there was not even a scar.
The knight raised his visor, revealing green eyes and satisfied grin.
"Ah, that's more like it".
When he returned to the normal world, he found himself stumbling on shaky legs, nearly falling on his ass. Which he did, when his elven companion stumbled into him and sent them both crashing onto the stone floor in a heap of limbs. She ended up on top of him, not that they noticed as they shook off the combined nausea and dizziness of their abrupt spiritual journeys.
It was minutes, or maybe seconds, he couldn't tell, when the world stopped spinning and he could raise his head without feeling the urge to vomit. Said action left him face to face with the elf that tormented his thoughts, in more ways than one.
"Not that I'm complaining," he grunted, "but are you okay?"
She managed a nod, still looking far too disoriented than ever. He struggled into a sitting position, leaving her to weakly straddle his lap as he rubbed his face and tried to figure out what the hell just happened.
"I don't suppose you met a God too?" he inquired dryly.
She stiffened but nodded, leaning back onto their legs. A part of him protested the sudden lack of her against him. A small part.
"Yes, I did" she spat. He raised an eyebrow at her scowl, thankfully directed far away from him as she stared through his armored chest.
"What happened?" he asked tentatively, knowing how easy it was for her to retreat into silence.
"I'd rather not talk about it." She made to rise, but his hand catching hers gave her pause.
He tried not to flinch as her hateful gaze moved to him, but they quickly lost their fire. Not all the way, it was still there, just not directed at him.
"A burden shared is a burden lessened," he said slowly. "I find some things easier to cope with when spoken of".
She hesitated, clearly looking like she wanted to speak.
"Tir-Cendelius, the Old Father… wants me to become the next Divine".
Be wary of your companions, for there are other gods seeking champions.
"That doesn't sound… bad" he said carefully. Could he trust her with the knowledge that he too had been chosen to become the Divine? It would be all too easy for her to kill him. One less obstacle on the road to godhood.
Her eyes were fixed on some unknowable point, looking but not seeing, her mind far from the cold stone walls.
She breathed silently for a few moments, before placing her hands on his chest, tracing the grooves of the metal as she spoke.
"Gods bearing gifts… divinity. And yet, he treated me…" She hesitated.
Like what? A friend? Colleague? Lover?
That last one brought an odd tightness to his chest.
You will be the next Divine. Do not disappoint me.
Ah. Like a servant, like an obedient lapdog, like a-
"Like a slave" he murmured. Her sharp eyes fixed on his, this time with wariness. It eased as she took in the disgust in his gaze.
"Yes," she hissed, "Like a slave. As if I am to be nothing more than a pawn in the games of the Gods. His was a lesson, meant to discipline, not edify. Why would I obey such a god?"
The anger in her tone melted into a cold rage, her hands unconsciously clenched on his shoulders.
She sucked in a sudden breath as he gently placed a hand on her cheek. The one with the scar. Her lips pressed into a thin line, dark eyes flashing a warning. Unperturbed, he waited for a few moments to be sure of her attention before continuing.
"You are not a slave anymore, Sebille." He said lowly. "No one can force you to do anything. You have a choice now. You can always tell your god to go fuck themself".
She blinked, took a deep, shuddering breath, then nodded. She unconsciously leaned into his touch. "Thank you. I… am still unused to such kindness" she said softly. He only stroked her cheek with his thumb in response, carefully avoiding the harsh scar that decorated it. It made something clench painfully in him every time he saw it, that horrible flaw on her otherwise perfect features.
They both jumped as Lohse's voice echoed down the hallway.
"Hey, where'd those two run off to?"
Sebille abruptly climbed off him as the Lizard joined in.
"Perhaps they found another treasure room?"
"More like they finally found a place to grind out all that tension, huh?"
"I… what?"
"You know, on each other!"
He managed to groan almost at the same time as the Red Prince. He missed the rosy hints on the elf's cheeks before she schooled herself into something more neutral.
They made their way back to the other half of their group, both pondering the future.