Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 47

The tyranny of choice

The torches burned bright despite the hour. Elene glanced about the deserted space, taking in the rows of shelves stacked with books. The faint scent of vellum lingered in the air; not as strong as it was in Candlekeep, but still noticeable enough for one familiar with it. She leaned back against her chair and sighed, grateful for the solitude. Even after everything that had happened to her, she would always feel at home in a library.

Her fingers traced the spine of the book on the table. The Adventurer's Guide to the Realms emblazoned on the cover, Imoen's thoughtful gift from months ago. At the time, she'd wondered if she would survive long enough to even consider visiting these places. Since then, she'd read the thing cover to cover twice already, marvelling at the detailed illustrations of the places she could visit, near and far. And yet, she doubted that reading the book for a third time would give her a better idea of where her path should take her next.

Not that she needed to go anywhere. No, she and her friends had been well-cared for in the Ducal Palace for the past two weeks, had their every need and whims catered to, much to Imoen's great pleasure. Of the six of them, Imoen was by far the happiest with the current living arrangement. First, she managed to convince Aldeth to throw a big party to celebrate Elene's nameday, forgotten while the group had been pursuing Sarevok. Then she topped it by getting Grand Duke Liia Jannath herself to teach her magic, astounding all of them with her powers of persuasion.

And her friend's happiness was the main reason Elene remained. She'd lost count of how many dinners and banquets she'd had to attend since they surfaced with news of Sarevok's defeat, and she hated each one of them. At first, she'd tried to take Coran's advice and wear the more fashionable frocks the noble ladies here favoured. Except the cut of the bodice exposed the pink tissue on her throat, as well as the tips of an old scar on her chest. In the end, she decided that the high collars were necessary to stem the stares from curious party guests, fashion be damned.

She pulled idly at her sleeves, frowning.

Of course, on the face of it, the nobles and well-wishers smiled and greeted her like a hero. Once she turned her back, though, the muttering, the whispers would start up. Once the findings from the Undercity trickled out through word of mouth, it became clear who, or rather what Sarevok truly was. Then inevitably questioning gazes began to focus on her, the woman powerful enough to defeat him, in single combat as gushed by the bards in the palace.

In the proceedings after the disastrous coronation, Grand Duke Belt read out the list of crimes Sarevok and his cronies were guilty of. No details were spared: the Nashkel Mines, the bandit camp in Peldvale, the secret iron stockpile in Cloakwood were all brought out into the open. He'd then lauded her group in the work they'd done, tracking down the plot and cleaning up house along the way, eventually exonerating her of the murder of the Iron Throne leaders. Still, the accusations continued to cast a pall over her image. That, and the trail of blood she'd left behind. The wicked illusion she'd cast to clear out the palace on the coronation day hadn't helped matters either. Many a golden pantaloon had been left soiled from her act of trickery, even though she did it with the best of intentions.

In some quarters, they had taken up calling her the Terror of the Sword Coast.

She scrubbed tiredly at her face. Imoen told her not to pay heed to such malicious whispers, but she couldn't help it. Of late, she'd chosen to disappear into the woods around the Gate with Kivan rather than deal with people. The Gate was filled with noise when she wanted quiet, to process her own thoughts.

After killing Sarevok, she expected to feel…relief. Catharsis. Vindication. Something, at least. Instead, most days she went to bed feeling empty and waking up the same. She felt hollowed out, spending hours in a day reliving different aspects of the events after her departure from Candlekeep. Along the way, she'd said and done things she wasn't proud of…and yet she wondered if she would have done anything differently if given another chance.

Perhaps…she simply needed to learn to put the whole thing behind her. And move on with the rest of her life.

If only I knew how.

Just this morning, Husam had appeared at the city gate to greet her when she returned from another ranging trip with Kivan. Ostensibly to record his thanks with a reward, a ring with protective magic, but before he left, he'd hinted at the possibility of a long-term partnership with his employer. Of course, she had no intention of taking him up on it. Although she wondered what it said about her, that the nefarious Shadow Thieves seemed to favour her.

Measured footsteps from the hallway gave an excuse to pause her gloomy musing. She turned, craning her neck to peer expectantly at the doorway, and was unsurprised to see Xan step through the threshold. Still in the elegant grey doublet he'd worn from dinner, he nodded as he caught sight of her. She gave him a small smile as he moved to join her, feeling both gladness and trepidation at his presence. They hadn't spoken much since Sarevok's defeat, ostensibly due to Xan needing to recover from his injuries, then the group getting caught up in the Flaming Fist investigation of Sarevok's crimes. In truth, though, they'd both not known what to say to each other now that their shared objective had been met.

"You left quite abruptly. I take it dinner wasn't to your liking," Xan began as he settled in the opposite chair.

"What do you think?" she asked, giving him an unhappy look.

He half-shrugged, a gesture curiously reminiscent of Kivan. "I can't imagine who in their right minds would enjoy being scrutinised down to their teeth like that."

She paused at the familiarity in his tone. "Was that what you had to live with growing up?"

"To be fair, elven nobles possess more subtlety."

Said with a dry quirk of his lips and a twinkle in his eye. Watching him, she realised that she missed this. She missed him. Once upon a time they could have sat in this library and jostled each other with irony-laden conjectures and anecdotes for hours. Safe to enjoy each other's company unfettered by the threat of people trying to kill them.

She swallowed. Those halcyon days had passed, though. These days her thoughts were filled with survival, of being one step ahead of the next possible threat. And living with the weight of her heritage.

"They talked about Tamoko," she admitted.

He frowned, catching on. "Elene, these people don't know…"

"Exactly." Her eyes flashed. "They don't know what she sacrificed to give us the means to stop Sarevok. They have no right to speak to her like she's just…some harlot on his payroll." She shook her head, fingers tightening. "Tamoko was…a good person. Maybe she'd fallen in over her head, but she tried to do the right thing, right up to the end."

The end being a noose for Tamoko, who chose to surrender to the Fists and give evidence to indict the rest involved in the conspiracy. It wasn't enough to secure her a pardon, though. Instead, she was given a vitriolic public execution for her role in supporting Sarevok in his nefarious schemes. Elene had refused to be in attendance despite Duke Eltan's invitation, as did Imoen. She'd advocated for a more lenient sentence, but the rulers of the city wanted to make an example of Sarevok's consort. That she was a foreigner did not help her case. While the rest of her group had attended the execution to give face to the dukes, she appreciated that none of them shared what they saw that day. Until she had the misfortune of hearing it described with relish by her neighbour at dinner.

Lord or no Lord, she'd wanted to drive her fork through the plump man's hand. Only a warning look from Imoen had stopped her from staging an 'accident' to shut the man up.

"She deserved better," she concluded, her anger fizzling out into bitter regret.

"Sometimes it's not about justice," Xan said quietly.

She sighed. "It's about sending a message, I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Silence descended between them, awkward and ripe with unsaid thoughts. None of them had walked away from the Undercity unscathed. Physical wounds had been healed, perhaps. The mental ones, though, would linger on. For her, seeing her brother's corpse erupt into golden dust put her own existence in stark perspective. That she would never be normal, and she would always have something to fear from those who did not understand her motivations. The smiling faces and outstretched hands can swiftly morph into snarls and torches at one wrong step, such was the fickleness of public perception.

They would turn quickly on her if they saw reason to. Tamoko's fate could very well become hers.

Xan cleared his throat, drawing her gaze. "The palace healer has given me a clean bill of health."

She watched him without interrupting, already guessing where this was headed.

"I…will be taking my leave in two days. It's been almost a year since I've seen home," he finished.

"Will you be hiring a carriage?" she asked after a while, not knowing what else to say.

"A horse will do," he replied with a small smile. "We've amassed something of a small fortune in equipment, but I won't be taking much with me."

"Going through Scornubel?"

"It is the shortest route, yes."

Suddenly it was difficult to look him in the eye. Almost six months of his company, and just like that, he was leaving. What could she say? Jaheira had warned her from the beginning that he would be bound by his duties as a Greycloak. He'd never given her any illusions on where his loyalties were. All well and good as information, yet in the end, this was what it truly meant. That she would have to bid him farewell. That his duties would always come before her.

Her eyes began to grow hot. Swallowing, she began to scrabble for words.

Say something. Come on, anything.

"Would you ever consider…coming with me?"

Her eyes whipped up to meet his. He began to fidget slightly in discomfort, as though the words had come out on their own volition. Wild hope bubbled in her chest as she stared at him, trying to discern his meaning.

"I mean, not in any official capacity," he amended quickly. "I've no intention of dragging you into Greycloak business. Just…if you'd like to visit Evereska, you're welcome to come. Since you've never seen an elven city before."

She spotted the problem even before he finished his sentence. "Xan…wouldn't you have to tell them what I am?"

He grimaced at that. "Well…perhaps. At least some of it, they would have to know." The look he sent to her after was tentative. "But even if they know, no one is going to come after you with pitchforks. You've broken no laws."

Even as her heart swelled at his words, at his belief in her, she felt conflicted. From what she understood of Evereska, the powers that be there were not that different from the authority she'd lived under in Candlekeep. Certainly, she saw the marks of it on Xan, likely why they both had so much common ground. Although she missed many things about Candlekeep, she did not miss being under the pitiless scrutiny and judgment of men who deemed themselves wise. Despite what Xan hoped for her, she would never be a true elf. She would always be an outsider wherever she went, even more so in an isolated, self-governed city like Evereska.

And he would be tarred by the same brush by extension.

The childish part of her wanted so badly to jump on this opportunity, to see the beauty of his home with her own eyes, and perhaps even to stay with him after. To say Hells with it and do what her heart wanted for once in her life outside Candlekeep. But…she was no longer a child. Every action had its consequence, and she could not bear the thought of him paying the price for her sake. She extended her hand to twine her fingers with his.

"Gorion…" she began slowly, "He gave up his profession, his friends…and then his life for me. I would hate for you to be in the same position as he was. I think…Sarevok is only the beginning. There will be more to come."

He studied her face. "Did you sense something in that place?"

She thought of the sensation prickling her consciousness as Sarevok's spark dissolved in the forgotten temple. The touch of fate. "I…don't know. A foreboding, maybe. I doubt anyone still living truly knows what Bhaal had planned. But most people, be they humans, elves or otherwise, fear what they don't understand."

Xan's brows furrowed as he pulled his hand away, and for a moment he looked like was ready to argue in defence of his brethren. They'd lived hundreds of years, collected wisdom spanning the ages from the dawn of the age. The Godswar had been a blip in history for their proud kingdom. What did they have to fear from one unassuming Bhaalspawn? Then he seemed to arrive at a realisation on his own, as his expression became pained as he looked at her.

"What will you do?" he asked instead.

"Survive," she answered simply. "I suppose to do so, I need to understand better. Bhaal, whatever he intended. The material I've found in the city is insufficient, even though Bhaal had a strong foothold here."

"You're thinking of going back to Candlekeep." He didn't phrase it as a question.

"Maybe. I haven't discussed this with Jaheira."

"And after?"

"After?" She considered it for a few breaths, then shrugged. "All I know is I can't be in one place for long. Best to remain a moving target in case any other 'sibling' surfaces. Beyond that, it depends on what I find. If I can find a way to slip away into obscurity, believe me, that would be the first route I would take."

Xan watched her, thoughtful. "I pray that the choice will be yours."

"Funny thing to say, given what you did in the warrens," she said softly, recalling how he'd killed Winski, Sarevok's mentor, before she could even raise her sword. "Why did you take the decision away from me?"

"I…" he ducked his head, shadowing his face. "I wasn't sure what you were thinking when you reached for your sword. But then, you surprised me with Tamoko." He raised his eyes to fix her with a look of awe. "You showed mercy even when she practically begged for death."

She looked away, recalling Imoen's restraining touch. Had it not been for her and Xan, things would have ended up quite differently, she suspected. Although, she kept that thought to herself. "It wasn't easy."

"I recognise that. And I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Please don't apologise," she told him. "You were right to doubt."

And he had nothing to say to that. In the ensuing silence, Elene avoided his gaze. Thinking back, she would have indeed executed Winski with her own hands. A part of her was thankful that he did it for her. Another part, though, mourned for the blood staining his hands because of her. At least with Tamoko, she had redeemed herself somewhat, not succumbing to the killing urge. Only for the woman to die anyway, she thought bitterly.

"I have to ask, though," she said, turning to other matters. "How heavily will I feature in your report?"

He sighed. "Were it up to me, not at all."

"Truly?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"You are…not far off with your view. There's no telling how my superiors will respond to the news of an elven Bhaalspawn who appears to be as strong as Sarevok." He shot her a wry look before she could utter a word of protest. "You know you are. You would not have been able to withstand him as you did otherwise. But I digress. I cannot say with certainty if you will be left alone after the fact."

"Is it up to you?"

"To some extent, yes." He flashed her a weary smile. "I cannot completely conceal your involvement, but I can…water it down."

For the second time that evening, he left her baffled. "I…you'd do that for me?"

His expression softened as he gazed back. "You'd be surprised at what I'd be willing to do for you."

This time she couldn't stop the blurring of her eyes as tears began to prick them. Throughout their fraught relationship, they'd both shied away from any declaration of love or devotion. Expressing such sentiments aloud seemed like too big a step, so they'd demonstrated their care through action, by being there for one another. And yet such words coming from him cut her so deeply because while she felt the same, she could not give voice to it. It seemed like a pointless endeavour now that they were at the cusp of farewell.

"Except staying," she pointed out.

"Elene." His voice was soft, so soft in their shared space. "You know I can't. And you know why."

Yes, she knew. Who was she kidding? They were doomed from the very beginning.

She wiped quickly at her eyes, catching the tears just as they were about to trail down her cheek. "Thank you. I wish you well, Xan. You…you deserve only the best, and I hope the Gods, elven or otherwise, will grant you nothing but that. I will miss...your company and your counsel."

It was a pathetic effort that did not do him justice, but what could she do but fall back on the manners she'd been taught? When she looked up, she caught the disappointment in his eyes before he schooled his features into neutrality. It hurt worse than any wound ever inflicted upon her. Not for the first time she cursed her fate and wished things could be different.

"I pray that Labelas will aid you in finding the answers you seek. And for Corellon to watch over you, wherever your pursuits may take you," he intoned, painfully formal.

He stood. For a long while, they simply looked at each other, as though waiting for the other to crack and say something else. But really, what else was there to say in the face of what's been decided? He was a code bound Greycloak, and his duties did not include gallivanting off into the unknown with a Bhaalspawn. While her life was too fraught with danger and uncertainty to offer to share it with another. There was never a compromise to be had between them. She could see that now. She'd only been putting off the inevitable, like a creature burying its head in the sand.

"I will see you before I depart," he said, then shifted to leave.

As he moved past her, she shot up to her feet. Driven by an emotion she refused to name, she pulled him back into a tight embrace, just as she did the night he'd given her a precious gift. Unlike that night, though, he closed his arms around her without hesitation. Everything that needed to be said contained in the embrace. All that was; all that could be.

"I will always remember you, Xan," she whispered.

He said nothing, only pressed a kiss into her hair.

There was no telling how long they stood there, though to Elene it would never feel long enough. Eventually, he began to pull away. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. She watched his face, imprinting the artful slant to his cheekbone, the depth of his mournful blue eyes into her mind's eye. Then he let out a shaky breath before touching his lips against her forehead.

"Take care, Elene."

A nod, a sad smile, then he was gone.

She slumped into her chair, dropping her face morosely into her hands. A horrible sensation was tearing its way through her chest, making her wonder if anyone had ever devised a potion to cure heartbreak. Because she would pay good money to have it in that moment, if only to drown out the crushing feeling overwhelming her insides, the sensation almost as painful as one of Sarevok's brutal strikes. Moisture fell into her cupped hands, only to slip through her fingers and fall to the floor.

Should I have tried to hold onto him?

Did I make the right choice?

How will I ever know?

Drawing a shuddering breath, she lifted her head once she had wrung herself dry. She gripped the pendant on her chest tightly. Would it always be like this for her, she wondered, to have to drive away those she cared for? What about Imoen, Khalid and Jaheira? Was it right to continue to count on them to stand with her through thick and thin, even though they've freely pledged themselves to travel with her?

So many unresolved questions. But at least one thing had been made clear in her mind that night. She needed to move on to her next objective. The sooner the better.

A quick cantrip to freshen up, then she was striding through the halls of the Palace. Guards dotted the floor every few dozen paces, the Fists giving her a crisp salute as she walked by. Her service to Duke Eltan had endeared her to the rank and file. If that wasn't enough, Sorrel had told the story of her exploits at the bandit camp to any who would listen, earning her the 'Firestarter' moniker among the officers.

As she reached the floor of her residence, though, she paused at the sound of approaching footsteps. Swallowing, she quickly wiped at her face when she recognised the cadence of the steps. Sure enough, she found herself face to face with Jaheira as the druid rounded the corner.

"Uh, hello Jaheira," she stammered.

She received a frown in response as the druid scrutinised her blotchy face. "What happened?"

"Nothing." As Jaheira's frown intensified at her too-quick answer, she walked her statement back, "I mean, well, it's not important. I'm fine." She tried to change the subject. "Where's Khalid?"

Fortunately, Jaheira seemed willing to let the matter go. "With our brethren, closing out a few loose ends from the recent…happenings, shall we say."

"He's fully recovered?"

"Yes, the healers here do admirable work. For that I am grateful." Jaheira sighed. "Though I must admit I am getting restless swanning about these lavish halls for nearly two tendays. At times it feels like a gilded cage."

Elene smiled slightly. "I know what you mean."

Jaheira's gaze turned appraising. "I know that look. Do you have something in mind?"

"I was thinking…maybe we can head off to Candlekeep in a few days."

"Again? That didn't go so well for us last time, child."

A soft chuckle was her reply. "Well, the situation is a bit different this time. I've been reading into Bhaal and his worship this past week and there's not much of substance I can find here in the Gate. I think I need to search the old archives and properly research Alaundo's material this time. Not just…skim through like I did a few years ago," she explained.

"What are you hoping to learn?" Jaheira prompted.

Elene hesitated. "I need to understand what I am, so I don't become…like him."

That gave Jaheira pause, the druid crossing her arms as she mulled it over. Elene wasn't sure, but she felt like the dynamics between them had shifted of late. The other woman was more willing to listen, more open to trying her way of doing things, sometimes stepping back and simply offering guidance rather than outright instruction. An odd sensation, to be on the receiving end of Jaheira's trust - Elene hoped she would continue to be deserving of it.

Finally, Jaheira nodded. Then with a smirk, she asked, "So when can we leave, oh enlightened authority figure?"