A Paladin's Fall

I walk towards her; she seems no more than a ghost, a dreamed apparition after all this time. My companions are watching from a distance, determined that no harm will come to me while in this dazed state.

Sixty seven days or not, I am foolishly confident that she is somehow the same Imoen that was before Irenicus. In the days after her capture by the Cowled Ones, I had forced myself to forget that I had to carry her out of Irenicus' dungeon, that she had clung to me sobbing as we ventured towards the light of the outside. In my naivety, I had pictured a different reunion. Laughter and smiling, the light would have returned to her eyes, and perhaps mine.

Reality, however, is a harsh mistress.

I can hear Jaheira pacing, muttering about mad wizards. Her words are not lost on me, and as move closer to Imoen, I see just how true they are. Imoen sits on the filthy stone floor, eyes downcast. If she sees me she does not let it show. If she recognises me, her expression is equally as apathetic.

One of my footsteps has caught her attention. She stares up at me, and her face turns to snow. My dreams were right. I did come too late. I have played the part of the epic paladin too long, and only now do I understand how foolish I have been. I am the rescuer of damsels, slayer of dragons, saviour of entire towns. I am the hero of Baldur's Gate and, indeed, the Sword Coast.

I am also a coward. It was my own fear that kept me from reaching her until now. Afraid that the Imoen I loved would never be again, I left her here to rot until I was able to suppress any lingering doubts. Even as I needed her, I stayed in Amn, craven, all the while risking my life, and those of my friends everyday. Imoen was the one to pay for my cowardice.

I kneel before her, as I did in the dungeon. She shies back as she did in that created hell. This time, there are no games I can play to make her smile, no quips to make her laugh. I was arrogant to believe they ever could. She submits to my touch as I bring my hand up to caress her pale cheek. In that instant, what is left of my youthful fantasies shatter like so many pieces of broken glass.

It's alright Imoen, I'm here now. Everything will be fine. I can hear my voice faltering, and the words are ludicrously hollow. Empty promises - I am not sure why I bother. I pick her up, and carry her, like a child back to the others. She is stiff in my embrace, and I can feel her tremble where she used to laugh.

She is everything to me, and it was my cowardice that did this to her.