„The Darkest Night"

Daria watched the almost full moon through a dusted, partly-covered window. All her companions were already soundly asleep on the ground around her, huddled in their coats and blankets, but she couldn't hear the soothing call of sleep just yet. She felt nervous and uneasy, only barely restraining herself from walking around the common room of the Imnesvale Inn, worried not to wake her friends. She felt caged in a space far too small for her, she wanted to break free, to leave this humid place and look directly at the sky, not obscured by the dusty glass. She could only think about today's battle with the shadow fiend, about helplessness she felt, weak and unarmed against her enemy, about resignation to the death, she learned the first time in Irenicus' dark dungeon and above all, about the feeling she tried to bury, but once again failed.

She kissed him. She remembered the touch of his lips on hers and the smell reminding her of books and magic, always surrounding him. Seeing, hearing and feeling everything after dividing herself into material and immaterial in her trance, she always remained beyond the grasp of others' senses. She wondered how he would react were it different. Would he be shocked? Surprised? Would he fall back with disgust? No, he wouldn't. He wasn't like that. He would look at her with his ever sad eyes that cleaved her heart in half and said: "I'm sorry Daria…"

Her heart lurched painfully at the thought that he would pity her. She needed to go out, to leave this cage before she'd lose her mind and start crying or screaming or… or kisses him again, just to find out. The walls were so close to her that she couldn't catch a breath. She ran to the back doors, not as heavily fortified as the front and began unbarring them wildly. When she finally felt a gust of wind on her face it seemed to her it was the last moment for escape before succumbing to madness.

She closed the door behind her and began walking forward through the sleeping village, in the midst of the silent houses. She hastened her pace and then broke into run, sprinting ahead without direction as fast as she could. When she stumbled and fell gracelessly at last, the village was already far behind. She let herself lay on the ground trying to catch her breath, a pale distant moon being the only source of light on an empty glade she reached. It was like that from the very beginning, when she met Xan in the deepest tunnels of Nashkel mines. The first thought she had when she saw him in the murky cave that was his cell, was how could anyone imprison someone so beautiful? It was stupid and childish, she didn't know him and he didn't know her, but since then a part of her was linked to him and there was simply nothing she could do about it. She accepted him in their group, learned from him and eventually became his friend. She would make him smile from time to time and harass him to teach her a new charm or word in elven, but there was nothing more…

Her breathing steadied as she lied on her back looking at the moon and the stars only barely covered by the clouds. She remembered the moment, when it got to her at last that it's only friendship for him, that she was imagining things. It was a time before all the Bhaalspawn revelations, before reaching Baldur's Gate. They were sitting in front of each other by a stream, at the edge of the Cloakwood, studying their spellbooks. She found herself stealing a look at him more often than actually looking into a fat tome she held on her knees. He had a thorough expression on his face he always took when dealing with magic and she enjoyed watching his eyes moving along the lines in the book - she got so caught up in this visage that she actually missed the fact that he stopped reading and was now looking at her.

"How do you say 'I love you' in elven?" she asked the first thing that came to her mind. She almost choked when she realized what she just said.

"It's 'amin mela Ile'" he answered plainly and returned to his studies. She didn't remember what she felt when he said that. Anger and betrayal were possibilities, but knowing her pathetic self, she probably stood up and went to find a secluded corner to cry in peace.

It was ironic that the thing she wanted to hear the most was the same, which took away all her hope. It didn't mean anything to him, so it was just an empty statement. The confession was just an example of a foreign language use, and so she was just a silly little girl, who grew up reading romantic stories hidden among the bookshelves.

And there she was now. Her great secret – the first thing she hadn't told even Imoen. She was hopelessly in love and hated herself for it, for being unable to say 'no' to him, for hugging him and touching his hand whenever she had an occasion, for crying her eyes out at night, when she couldn't take the loneliness anymore and for smiling at him again in the morning. She hated life for not being a fairy tale, despite what Ajantis and others like him thought. And she hated herself for kissing Xan, because the memory would haunt her till the end of her short life, reminding her constantly what she would never be able to have.

She got herself from the ground. She was a mess, plain and simple, sweated and covered in mud, leaves and small twigs tangled in her hair. Tears couldn't stop flowing from her eyes – one more reason for self-hatred. She forgot her cloak upon her hastily escape and was now beginning to shiver. Her ankle hurt after the fall.

She tried to determine with her magic whether there were any shadow monsters on her road to the village, but her attempts to concentrate resembled trying to squeeze water from a stone. She was unsure if she wanted the road to be clear and safe, or swarming with undead. She began to hobble in the direction of the inn.

What was it that made her love him? She kept wondering. Was it that he was one of the few of the elven blood she knew? She knew Kivan and Coran, and some other nameless elves she met throughout her adventures and felt nothing even bordering that emotion. Was it that they shared a fascination in the arcane arts? Was it that no matter how hopeless and unpromising he claimed their situation was he never left her side? Or maybe it wasn't love after all, only a foolish attachment of a girl, who lost her father and desperately wanted someone – anyone, to take care of her?

'It doesn't matter' she thought and repeated it in her head over and over again. 'I will go to the inn, block the door, fall asleep. I will wake up and say 'good morning'. I will smile at him. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't…"

He was standing at the door of the inn looking directly at her. Her heart skipped a beat.

Xan walked up to her hurriedly scanning her features for a sign of what happened as she stood petrified. He reached to her hair and touched it.

"Are you hurt?" he asked with concern in his voice. He was holding a leaf he pulled from her hair in his hand. Daria felt her lips are trying to formulate a smile automatically. Her tears began to fall with renewed strength.

"I'm alright" she said with breaking voice and fell in his arms. She felt spasms shaking her whole body as she gave in to the sadness and misery embracing them inside. He gasped in surprise and fell to the ground, but held her nonetheless, close to his heart, a familiar beat near her ear. Never breaking the embrace she clang to him and cried until his whole robe was covered with her tears, until her heart was empty and she couldn't cry anymore. And even then, when the dawn was breaking on the east and first rays of sunshine messaged the coming of a new day, she knew only sorrow, though and because, her best friend was there for her.

***

It was dawning by the time the elven woman he held in his arms stopped sobbing. All the time he held her and whispered futile words of consolation she couldn't even hear, lost in her despair. It was almost more than he could take, seeing her so devastated, so hurt… And he couldn't even imagine how painful it must have been for her. She buried her face in his robe and he couldn't see her weeping, but he could feel her grief, even though he couldn't understand it. She wasn't wounded, but he knew there were emotional scars much deeper than any cut a sword could leave. When her crying ceased he picked her up from the ground and carried indoors. She wasn't resisting, she hasn't even raised her eyes at him and he wondered if she finally fallen asleep from exhaustion. She didn't, he realized when he tried to place her on a blanket in the silent corner of the common room. She let out a strangled sob when he released her from his arms. Her hand clutched at his robe.

"It's alright. I am with you. For as futile as it is… I will not leave you" he whispered gently. The rest of their party was still asleep on the other side of the room, oblivious to their leader's absence. He wanted to wake up Jaheira, to take care of Daria's swelling ankle, but when the girl raised her eyes to meet his he realized that a hurting leg was the least of her problems. He saw what he knew for a long time, but hoped she would never find out. He once again saw that life was a cruel game and they were always on the losing side.

"Don't leave me…" she sounded helpless, her voice hoarse from crying. He sat near her blanket. Her entire face was wet and swollen, and he began wiping her tears away with a piece of cloth he had in his pocket. She closed her sore eyes, slowly dozing off under his careful treatment. How much must she have suffered to be left in such a state? He covered her with his cloak, watching her features relax slowly. What had this foul creature, this 'Shattered One' done to her, to break her like that? What kind of monster would be able to hurt such a delicate being, like she was hurt? Xan was certain it was not an elf. No elf could ever deal such pain and remain unscathed.

He sat by her side for about an hour, before a shuffle behind him announced that his companions were beginning to wake up. He looked at her one last time and got up to prepare his spells she would undoubtedly need today.

When he saw her again half an hour later she was clad in her cloak and wore her gloves again. Her eyes weren't swollen anymore and she looked as always – exchanging small jokes with Yoshimo and arguing with Jaheira. When she looked at him her face became still for a second and then she gave him her usual smile. He was almost fooled.

Hiding his hands under a table Xan quickly summoned up the gestures of a simple revealing spell. Just as he thought, Daria's face was covered in a gentle mist of illusion. For how long…? She was hiding her feelings, her pain, under a mask and he didn't as much as notice. If he hadn't woken up just then he would answer her grin with a half-smile as always and wouldn't think about it more than a minute. How could he be that blind? He saw gentle signals – she rubbed her eyes more often and he could notice some measure of falseness in her easy-going manner. Did she really want it to be like that? No one noticing her tears, no one holding her when she cried? She was like that, he knew it. She would bleed to death, but she would never say she needed help.

She said something to Jaheira and pointed her foot. He overheard her saying she 'must have twisted her ankle yesterday'. It didn't make Xan feel any better knowing that the druidess hasn't became aware of her ward's misery either. Instead she made a standard speech about being more careful and used a healing spell. Daria made a sour comment that she was not a druid to be able to walk in the wilderness like Jaheira, and beamed an out of character smile, probing her healed leg. Xan decided that he was a blind fool indeed.