Author's Note: fluff warning, beware. Mwahahaha.
Intersection
Half a year, and she still missed Nalfei… that is to say, the Underdark, not the mage. Definitely not the handsome, ancient dark elf with the preoccupied, absent gaze and the magnificent mane of hair. Nothing to do with him at all. Really.
S'kaerik let out a sigh as she stared at the tiled ceiling in the airy rooms provided in Candlekeep University, and wished she believed it. Word had been occasionally sent from Menzoberranzan dwarves to say that they were working on her case, but it would take some 'time'. Nothing from Jarlaxle or Nalfei… nothing from Jarlaxle, that is, but that was hardly surprising – she doubted that the mercenary leader had anything really important to say to her.
That was a little depressing, but at least it wasn't as bad as sleeping. S'kaerik had started dreaming of Nalfein a week or so after she had left Sshamath, and since she knew that dreams generally reflected subconscious preoccupation, this was somewhat disturbing. Especially since the dreams were, in general, none-too-innocent. Other than that, it had been a pretty good half year – the translations had sold well, oddly enough, and she had managed to extend her book collection to a few old, pre-printing handwritten and illustrated tomes from her suppliers that she had been aching to get for years.
Her brother H'ienrik had finally gotten mated to Nish'rik, even though Mother did not really approve, it was the age of freedom. Males could get mated to males if they wanted to, though Mother bemoaned the lack of direct grandchildren, and then shot S'kaerik a stern look, as if to say the duty now fell to her, which was unfair, and besides, when she was a youngling she had a crush on Nish'rik. But they were happy together, so that was fine… idly, she wondered what Nalfein would think of that, and fielded the thought just in time. Not good.
Sleep was important. Tomorrow she had to attend some strange discussion about the Underdark, and it was necessary to stay awake during the meeting. It was undignified to take naps when one was still young, anyway…
With an irritated growl, S'kaerik rolled off the bed and dressed, deciding to go for a quick walk around the elegant, walled-in garden of Candlekeep University. Perhaps the crisp, cold night air would pull in the soothing arms of sleep – it generally did so whenever she tried it, which was more and more often.
Candlekeep University gardens were kept neat and landscaped in an attempt to recreate the romance of wilderness without the 'wild'. None of the animals tried to eat each other, the plants were trimmed and immaculate, tastefully placed to complement the colours of their surroundings. Even the ponds were carefully asymmetrical, and the swans floated on it like living statues that, at night, shot S'kaerik accusing looks of beady-eyed suspicion from their nests in the reeds. Cats were cats, as far as they were concerned, even though they looked human.
S'kaerik set off on an easy jog down the stone path, the fresh night air walled away from the smells of modern Candlekeep City – still considered a small, university city compared to the large metropolises of Baldur's Gate and Waterdeep, but now housing enough people to make certain streets smell as though they were not only in pressing need of a sewage system, but also possibly a very large fire.
Nocturnal birds sang discreetly at even intervals from the trees, having been caged there. S'kaerik found the metaphorical quality of Candlekeep's 'wilderness' garden highly amusing, from the specially moss-grown slate flagstones that she loped on, to the ivy-covered broken statues rising occasionally out of the bushes like affronted natives, to the little stone benches under judicious spots of shade, perfect for picnics and… there was someone on that bench close to her left.
S'kaerik slowed down, curious. In all the times she had taken a nightly jog in the gardens all she had met were a few students sneaking off over to the gates in search of entertainment in the city outside. They generally did not linger inside the gardens, especially if they saw anyone coming…
Tail twitching inquisitively, she wandered over, politely making enough noise such that the person could hear her approach. She was relatively sure that she could handle intruders, or at least run like hell for help… as she couldn't smell any firearms on him. The figure stood up as she got close, and the scent was so familiar that she drew in a sharp intake of breath. Moonlight sleeted off bone-white hair, as Nalfein faded out of the shadows from the trees.
"What are you doing here?" S'kaerik hissed quietly in shock – that he had left his library, let alone the Underdark… She caught his arm, solid under the sleeves rough with arcane embroidery. Nalfein seemed rather distant, his expression unreadable and traced with shadows, but S'kaerik was far too stunned to consider the implications as she embraced him fiercely, rubbing her cheek against his firm chest. "Gods, I missed you," she whispered.
Nalfein gingerly enfolded her with his arms, stiffly, as if in affronted dignity, and S'kaerik pulled back guiltily, about to apologize, then was surprised again when he cupped her face in both slender hands and kissed her hungrily on the lips, tongue gently but insistently entering her mouth to deepen the gesture. S'kaerik slid her arms up around his neck and gasped "My room," when he broke the kiss for air.
Nalfein grinned, and kissed her again, this time more slowly, and the air seemed to change abruptly in smell and texture to the cleaner tones of her room. Blinking, she pushed him off, but let his stroking hands encircle her waist. "Again… what are you doing here?"
"I was going to ask you to come back to Sshamath with me," Nalfein said, then smiled wickedly as wandering hands teased a gasp from the Weyr-Cat, "But something must have possessed me. And we can do this -" S'kaerik moaned at his touch, "without fear of interruption in my pocket plane."
"Tempting as that is, I have a lot of things I have to do first… and I need to get permission to leave." S'kaerik said, grabbing his hands and jerking them away from her. "The dwarves said it won't be very much longer…"
"I can't wait much longer," Nalfein growled.
"Mrr. Well, you didn't even go and see me off at the platform," S'kaerik said accusingly, between rasping licks at his neck, playfully pulling his hands behind his back.
"Because you did not seem inclined to wish to visit after you had your books," Nalfein retorted, arching slightly as she found the clasps to his robes and pulled the top half open to move the ministrations of her tongue downwards. "Aah…"
"I was busy, and you weren't very friendly when you gave them to me," S'kaerik replied, slightly irked at the idea that Nalfein had thought it was fundamentally her fault.
Nalfein sighed, frowning as he realized, when he tried to move his hands, that a Weyr-Cat's strength is well-hidden in their lithe frames. "Can we just forget about that?"
"No," S'kaerik said mischievously, pushing him onto the bed and shifting his arms so she held them by his wrists over his head. "But you can try and convince me."
**
S'kaerik looked out of the train window to hide her grin. They were only a day into the train ride, and Nalfein had already become extremely skittish, like a cat in a dog pound, never having been so long away from his books for centuries. Ostensibly, he was reading the catalogue she had gotten for him, but whenever she looked away she could feel his accusing stare on the back of her neck. She was the one who'd refused to teleport, after all, because S'kaerik rather liked trains, and she wanted to stop over in Menzoberranzan briefly to thank the dwarves there. The ride back was in one of the new luxury trains for the tourists, and they had a first-class room…
She didn't really know why he was complaining, because she had made it quite clear that if he wanted to, Nalfein could go back to his library first, by himself. That had stalled quite a few of his protests, and he had resorted to sulking.
The last few days had actually been quite fun. Nalfein's presence had caused quite some consternation in Candlekeep, and, though he had been allowed into the Library at S'kaerik's request, he was escorted by a suspicious train of some of the University staff, whom he had surprised by speaking Common and not trying to kill anything. After that he took her to Baldur's Gate to arrange her things, when word coincidentally – or perhaps not – arrived that she had a seat in the Silver Falcon back to the Underdark at the earliest date, and a job waiting in Sshamath, something that she would be briefed on fully when she reached there, but probably involved Nalfein's library.
From the carefully immobile expression of Nalfein's face when she told him this, she knew that he probably had something to do with it.
"I still think we should have used magic," Nalfein muttered. "We would be…"
"Back earlier, I know," S'kaerik turned her gaze back to him. "But does it matter? You'd live forever anyway. What is a week or so to you?"
Nalfein glared at her. "It means less to me than it does for you."
"I like trains," S'kaerik grinned impishly as Nalfein scowled. "Remember?"
"I cannot imagine why," Nalfein said snappishly.
"Well, you spend most of your life in a room less luxurious than this one, and with about the same amount or less of standing space," S'kaerik pointed out.
"My room had books," Nalfein said simply.
"Well, you were the one who chose to leave them."
"Because I did not think I would be leaving them for very long."
"You have books now," S'kaerik pointed out. They had brought along quite a bit of her personal collection, as well as books donated from the Five and their publishing companies.
Nalfein muttered something darkly in the drow tongue, and looked so adorable in his frustration that S'kaerik could not resist walking over to his couch and nipping his neck. "Bed?" he asked, a little breathlessly after a while, when she ensconced herself on his lap.
S'kaerik chuckled. "I'm still a bit surprised that you like me this way. After all… we're not even of the same species…"
"That is probably part of the reason," Nalfein replied, moaning as she kissed the hollow at his neck. "And I like you in many ways…"
"Really."
"Aah… Bed?"
"If you insist."
**
"So how was your return to the Surface?" Jarlaxle asked politely. S'kaerik had kept her rooms in Sshamath instead of moving in with Nalfein, because it was near-impossible to reach her if she decided to stay in his pocket plane. Grumbling on the mage's part had not accomplished anything, and he had given up.
"It was restful… until Nalfein showed up," S'kaerik smiled at the memory, and then shot a look at Jarlaxle. "Did you have anything to do with it?"
"Me, Lady Cat?"
"Yes, you… I'm quite sure you had something to do with it. What did you say to him? I don't think Nalfein would have left his library without a lot of instigation…"
"I did not say anything of the sort to him, Lady Cat," Jarlaxle said mildly, "But I did not tell him that it was nearly confirmed that you were supposed to come back, so I assume he grew tired of waiting."
"But he's been alone for centuries…"
"So perhaps he does not wish to be alone any longer," Jarlaxle smiled.
S'kaerik shrugged. "Well, if he does not tire of my company all I can do is stay with him for two centuries maximum."
"We shall see, Lady Cat," Jarlaxle said mysteriously.
"What?"
"Just speculation on my part," the mercenary said irritatingly. "And I heard that you saw Zaknafein?"
"Oh yes," S'kaerik said, forgetting about the 'speculation' in the rush of recollection. "He was very handsome."
"There has to be some reason why Malice put up with him for so long," Jarlaxle grinned. "Zaknafein always has to have his own way, and so does Malice. I've always thought they were an extremely incompatible couple, though I'd thought that it would have continued to work out relatively peacefully if they never had children."
"Well, they broke up. Violently."
"They never really did," Jarlaxle corrected, thoughtfully. "He was always in love with her, even after that ugly incident with Vierna, and the somewhat less ugly parallel involving Drizzt."
"How did you know?"
"I believe he would not have given his life so easily in sacrifice for his son, no matter how Drizzt's memoirs make him out to be. I have known him for a large proportion of his life, most of which revolved around his Matron, even after she rejected and humiliated him. He died the first time mainly because he saw that Malice really wanted him to die, and he let her kill him because life, for him, already had lost all its appeal once he understood her wish."
"Then he came back the second time because she was the one who called him."
"He could have refused?" S'kaerik frowned. "I thought it was easy to call back spirits."
"I understand that if one enters the Blessed Realms, divine magic that is evil in nature cannot pull one back into a state of undeath, as the good-aligned Gods guard the Blessed Realms with their power. So to return – and as Zin-Carla, there must have been a very good reason."
"But he killed himself…"
"Because he saw that he was about to fulfil his function, after which he would have accomplished nothing other than the death of his son, because Zin-Carlas are sacrificed again after they finish their hunt," Jarlaxle said solemnly. "And he could see that his presence was slowly killing his beloved."
"This might sound like an overly sentimental question… but from your judgement, did Malice love him?"
Jarlaxle smiled. "In her own fashion, I believe so, yes – because I believe that if she did not love him, she would not have been able to hurt him as much as she did. He could never see that love is an emotion whose meaning is shaped anew by each individual – or perhaps he did not want to see. Perhaps he wanted her to love him the same way he did her." The mercenary inspected his gloves. "Malice was Zaknafein's biggest blind spot. If he had treated her more like a Matron, it is quite likely that he would not have died that way. He never knew how to handle the idea of her being jealous of him loving his children." A quick smile. "Which shows you that four hundred years can only layer cynicism over stubbornness, and not replace it."
"Did you have blind spots?" S'kaerik grinned.
"Never, Lady Cat," Jarlaxle said, with mock indignation. "The very idea!"
"You gave up Bregan D'aerthe once…"
"Because I was bored, and I wanted to look at the Surface."
"And your conclusion…?"
"That except for certain aspects it is so akin to the Underdark that there is little point in my preferring to stay in either based on anything other than profit." Jarlaxle smiled. "The same prejudice, the same fears, desires, stupidity, bloodshed and hatred just exist in different mundane levels in both places. My assassin friend did not agree with me, so I left him to his devices in Calimport after a few years. He said my presence was beginning to make him even more cynical than normal."
"I wonder why," S'kaerik said mischievously.
"Are you teasing me, Lady Cat?"
"No, of course not," S'kaerik replied, mimicking his tone. "I would never dream of doing that."
"Good," Jarlaxle grinned. "I might die of hurt if you did so."
"I might die right now if I have to continue on this train of conversation," S'kaerik said dryly.
"You had better not, Lady Cat. If anything, it would be hell to explain to Nalfein." Jarlaxle winked at her. "He has become quite possessive."
"But I don't let him order me around…"
"Which I believe might be part of his problem," Jarlaxle said, and laughed at S'kaerik's expression. "Suffice to say, he has never met anyone like you."
"Well, I certainly hope he doesn't lose interest."
"I have never seen him leave the library for anything other than summons by Mage Lord councils, so I doubt he would, Lady Cat. Very well done."
"Oh yes, I heard you won your bet," S'kaerik grinned. "Though Nalfein was reluctant to disclose its nature."
"Thanks to you, Lady Cat – I was all but despairing of finding anyone who could fulfil all the conditions of the bet."
"But you won."
"I always win, Lady Cat," Jarlaxle said, tipping his hat. "That is why it is always amusing. But I would like to thank you again for helping Nalfein - he looks more alive now than I have ever seen him. Give him a year or so and he might even learn how to speak properly automatically. I was afraid that he would turn into one of the many pieces of furniture in his pocket plane."
"Did you steal anything when he let you into the other rooms?" S'kaerik grinned.
"Of course not," Jarlaxle said, the mock indignation returning to his expressive voice.
"Somehow, I don't believe you."