Chapter 2 A Request.
The house was small, but very clean, and fairly tidy. The only mess was causing by the broken windows, destroyed during the battle for the city. Darius had considered taking her to the Board's Laid Bare – the district's only tavern that he also owned, but felt that the last thing the fallen paladin would want is to be surrounded by a crowd.
The pair was quiet as Darius gave the brief tour of the three room house that lasted only a minute, "Bedroom is back there, through that door, the kitchen and living room, you're standing in them and the last room leads out back to the well and the bathroom."
Aribeth was considering the important question of where she would sleep as there was only one bedroom, and more importantly, only one bed, and the hour was growing late. But Darius was not too concerned about the hour as he relit the fireplace and several small lamps that he placed around the room, allowing the small lights to effectively light up the room. Darius paused and turned to face Aribeth, "I don't have much in the way of food or drink I'm afraid – not had the time to do any real shopping."
However, she had not been really paying any attention to anything that had happened since they entered, as she finally blurted, "I'm sorry."
Darius paused, his train of thought completely derailed as he stared at her, "For what?"
"For…" she broke off and looked away, out through the bars of the broken window, the iron bars she noted, built like prison bars, "For everything, for what I've…" she stalked towards the window, resting her hands upon the window sill, as she rested her head upon her hands crossed forearms, sinking to her knees, as she hung her head as she lost her focus, already being overwhelmed by what she had done, and how many she had hurt.
Darius was uncertain about what to do next, as the last time he had held a woman in his arms, he had kissed her good bye and held her close before telling her he loved her, and then had been forced to watch the life leave her eyes before they closed and she went limp. He blinked away the tears in his eyes, and took a pair of halting steps towards her, before his stride firmed up and he crossed the short distance across the room to place a hand upon her shoulder, squeezing gently. Her hands lashed out with the speed of a striking cobra, and grasped his hand, holding it tight as she cried.
Simply touching her should brought back a flood of memories that caused him to shake slightly, before biting his lip and quashing them in to the back of his mind, unwilling to let them take him over and break him down. He crouched and held her close to him, closer than he meant to and he somehow felt that he could not let her go. He could not let her go, and he could not let her walk to her death, no matter how honorable an end that would be for her. He vowed silently, as he held her close and felt her shake in his arms, holding back his own tears, as she mumbled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry," over and over and over.
Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, together as he held her, and she clung to him heedless of time, as he finally straightened, gently lifting her back to her feet, holding her up, slowly as he half carried and half walked her across the room, sitting her down gently upon the worn and beaten sofa. She had gone completely limp, only her eyes and slow steady breathing gave any indication that she was still alive.
It took Darius a moment to revive the flagging fire, and its warm gently filled the room, warming the entire house as the tongues of fire threw shadows upon the walls. He returned to her side, and gently guided her to her feet, talking quietly, whispering to her, quiet words of comfort - all that he could do, as he struggled to prevent his own hands from shaking as he helped her in to his bed. He took a moment to undo the thongs that held his armor in place before shrugging off his armor as he stared at the Paladin, who looked up at him with pleading eyes. She spoke no words, but her request was clear as she shook slightly beneath the blanket.
He nodded his understanding but said nothing as he dropped his armor at the foot of the bed. The few candles in the rooms threw a shadow that was larger than him against the wall as he undid and dropped both his war belt and shoulder harness, placing both his swords alongside the bed before removing his own boots, and sliding beneath the covers. He lay next to her, as her hand reached out, in the darkness beneath the blanket searching for his.
Her fingers caressed his and he tensed almost uncontrollably, a reflex that he managed to control after a few seconds. He wrapped his fingers around hers, determined not to break away. He could feel her need for a moment of tenderness, a gentle touch she had not felt nor seen in many days had her craving. She turned towards him, and placed her head against his shoulder, as her tears continued to fall in silence, even as he unconsciously pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close until she was snug against him.
Every muscle and fibber within him screamed that he should not be here, lying with her in his arms. It was not because she was a traitor to Neverwinter – he had no love for the city, no care for its people since they turned on Fenthwick long ago. It was his ghost from the past, the one that he wished every night could be with him again, instead of… He sighed quietly as he held her close, unwilling to leave because he did not want to hurt her anymore. He knew that beneath the hard exterior that she wore, her heart and soul were shattered by the loss of her lover, and regret for what she had done as the willing leader of the Luskan Forces. It took only a while before her tears subsided, and she fell asleep, still curled up against him, like a kitten seeking rest and sanctuary in the protective warmth of its mother.
He did not stay long, unable to let her take the place, of somebody else that should still be here with him today. He slid out of bed and went in to the living room to stretch out on the sofa. He doubted that she would try to run, and he knew that by now, the people of Neverwinter would know that he held her in protective custody. Moreover, that meant that some fool hotheads, would definitely try something very stupid. If they tried to do anything in his house, he could kill them without reprisal.
He closed his eyes as he slid in to his typical sleep, allowing him to rest and regain his energy but without compromising his alertness to any sound, whether suspicious or otherwise. He slept, and the hours of night passed quietly, without disturbance until the middle of the night, when a series of whimpers broke his sleep, sending him shooting upright, as the red blade glowed ominously in the darkness of the room, the fireplace having dimmed to glowing embers. He stared around the room, his eyes used to the dark as he noted the sound of whimpers and sobs came from his bedroom. He stood, and stretched, working the slightly stiffness from his muscles as his lanky six foot frame did not fit well when forced to stretch out on a sofa that was not as long as he was. He threw another log on to the fire as he sheathed his blade. Without his armor, he slunk in to the room, to find her deep in the throes of a nightmare as her hands clenched, knuckles turning white as her body shook, causing the sheets to shudder back and forth as if possessed.
He sat down quietly next to her on the edge of the bed, he hesitated, wishing that he had someone or something to guide him but he only had his own heart and mind to guide him. His heart told him to hold back, not to let somebody else fill that void. His head told him that there was nothing to be gained from this. He had a choice to make and he hesitated for a moment. He decided that for the moment, he could comfort her, and make the decision later.
He crossed to the far side of the bed, and slid in, retaking the place he had hours earlier, curling himself against her as she continued to shake, and tremble, tormented by something that only she could see and fight against. He was as gentle as he slid an arm around her and pulled her close, whispering gently to her, "Aribeth, its alright, Aribeth," he shook her gently causing her eyes to flash open moments before she rolled, trying to escape his grasp as she screamed.
He almost let go as she screamed the name of her deceased lover, the pure pain and agony that scream echoed was something that Darius could almost taste. In the past he had thought that he understood what she had suffered through but he knew now that his owns pains, were nothing compared to everything that she had suffered. He had to struggle to hold her until her scream ended, and she fell back on to the bed, shuddering uncontrollably as tears ran down her face, "What have I done? What have I done?"
She cried as she buried her face in his shoulder and continued to shed her tears, "How could I have done this?"
He had no way to answer her as he held her close to him and rocked back and forth with her held as tight as he could, his own decision made in a moment, and he had yet to realize that he had even made it, as he held her close to him, unwilling to let her go. In spite of what memories were brought back by him being so close to her, he knew that there was no way he could turn his back upon her. Gradually, her tears dried as her drained body collapsed in on itself, as she feel in to a deep, dreamless sleep, exhausted by the abuse she had heaped upon herself.
The remainder of the night passed in silence, as she slept curled up in his arms. Again, he tried to slip out of bed, but was caught out, as she curled up against him, wrapping her arms around him, cinching them tight, refusing to let, even as she whispered, while still half asleep, "Darius, please… stay with me… I'm scared, I can't do this alone."
He didn't reply as he pulled her closer and held her, himself drifting off to sleep, with her tight against him, his original plan to stay on watch, to be on guard forgotten as he felt something calm him so that he could finally sleep, in peace, without his nightmares and ghosts returning to haunt him as they always did…
The day had dawned bright and early and the pair had risen early as they were both accustomed to doing. It was not intentional but simply out of habit. She woke before him but only a few moments as her stretching woke him. She looked over at him, and nodded to him, "good morning."
He returned the greeting and slid out of bed, stretching out his back and shoulders slightly cramped from the way he had been sleeping. Standing side by side, they stared out, through the window in the front room, on the streets of Blacklake District where the so-called nobility and social elites were wandering the streets, pompous and full of themselves, as if they had something of vital importance to do for the city that they called home.
An hour later, the pair was ready to wander in to the streets, as Aribeth had requested that there were things that she wanted to do, in the first of her last three days of freedom. She wore what clothes she had, simple plain clothes, her weapons and armor taken from her when she surrendered to the Neverwinter Nine at the gates to the castle. Darius glanced at her, critically from head to toe before stepping towards a closet, the only closet in the small house. From within, he pulled a cloak and a set of well worm chain link armor. He hesitated for a moment before pulling a Bastard Sword from the closet along with a pair of short swords, "People will know soon enough that you are not being held in a prison cell, because what's left of the Neverwinter Nine will talk."
"But under protective custody, only the protectors are allowed to bear arms," she replied testily, even as she ran her hands down the length of the sheathed blade, "I would be violating the laws that are keeping me alive."
Darius shrugged in a non committal fashion, "The laws can rot. The administrator," he paused as he cinched his war belt tight around him, "of those laws can also rot in hell." He paused as he hefted a rack of throwing dirks and slung them across his chest, "I'd rather you take a weapon or two, and be able to defend yourself, because this city will devour you alive, or at least try to if you are recognized," he sheathed both the fire and the poison blades, "I will not be enough to stop an angry mob from seeking its justice," he winced, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean,"
"No, No," she reassured him, "I understand what you mean. You are the one who is taking a grave risk by taking this responsibility upon yourself for Lord Nasher."
He intimately understood what she had left unspoken as he nodded, "I do it, for me, and for you," he paused, and almost said his name, but decided against it. He was after all, keeping the promise he made, the day Fennthick was betrayed and murdered. "Not for anyone else."
She nodded her understanding as he turned to stare out the window as she went back in to the bedroom to change in to what she had been given to wear, along with the bastard sword, her preferred blade, and weapon of choice for any combat situation. She emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed and he noted that she was beautiful, even in full armor with a sheathed blade at her side. There was simply this aura around her that he could somehow see, somehow read and understand. It allowed him to see so much more of her than she herself would have possibly liked, and he kept his secret to himself. He wondered if he would ever tell her, if he would get the time to tell her.
She nodded and Darius opened the door, and the two stepped out in the bright shinning sun of a brand new day, her final day free, before she would have to be returned to the Castle, to face fate, with honor at Sunday the following day.
They stepped in to the bright, sun lit streets of the district, and Aribeth stared around, her eyes almost blank. The darkness of the previous night had hidden the extent of the damage that had been inflicted to the city during the short but brutal siege. The damage wrought by enemy catapults made its presence felt in the burned out hulks, and the skeletal remains of numerous buildings along with the faint stench of burning flesh, whether left over from the plague or from the assault was uncertain. The physical loss bordered on the terrifying. The people had soldiered on through the warfare and were now rebuilding, as best as they could. Aribeth shuddered as she looked around the broken remains of the Blacklake. If Blacklake was in such as state, she could only wonder what the rest of the city such as the Beggars Nest had fared underneath the brutal assault of Luskanites and Uthgradt.
She maintained an iron grip upon her emotions, as she refused to shed even a single tear for the very people that had condemned her to pain and suffering that would last the rest of her natural, when they stole her only love from her, and were helped by her former lord. Her sadness turned to fiery anger as her thoughts centered upon the one man who had broken her in a single action. She remembered her personal vow of vengeance against Lord Nasher Alagondar. If she had followed through to the end, there was no doubt in every muscle, nerve and fiber of her being that she would make him suffer eternally for his crimes against her.
She heard Darius behind her, drawing level with her. She turned to face him as he spoke to her, "Aribeth, I know what you think. But you did the right thing, following the course of honor. I know you look around, and a part of you wishes that you had never surrendered. I can feel the hatred and rage coming off you, like a wave, placing a wall around your true feelings," he hesitated, knowing the irony of his own words, "Don't let your dreams, your memories destroy who you are."
She laughed openly at the remark, "There is much that you do not know about me," the laugh light and heart felt, as she broke in to the warm radiant smile that he had seen her wear, even during the trying time of the Wailing Death. The smile faded slightly as she took his hand in hers, "Come with me Darius," she paused, "there is something I want you to see, something I want you to know."
He almost pulled away from her touch as if scalded by fire or by a poison. He did not trust himself to speak as he only nodded, and allowed her too lead the way. She knew the different districts well, as she led him to the district gates. Even with her face masked beneath her borrowed cloak, she could feel the glares and stares of the guards that promised deadly violence, even if they could not see the blade worm upon her back, all but its grip hidden beneath the cloak she wore.
Darius noted the looks that would have caused lesser men to flee. Last night, he had developed the measure of the supposed black patrol, and knew that they were little more than the thugs he had killed in the Peninsula District, only better dressed and better armed than the now long dead rabble. Following her, she led him towards the western quarter of the city, towards the woods near the docks district, "These woods are part of the city?"
She nodded, understanding his hesitation, "They are. The city wall runs part way through the woods. It's actually a part that many of the people have forgotten exists. These woods have been here since my first days in Neverwinter, and while they have grown somewhat since then, it is arguably one of the tamest and most peaceful places in the entire city."
He nodded as she picked up the pace, "So what is in these woods?"
She did not answer as they continued their rapid advance through the city. Within minutes, they had reached the woods, and she led them off its main path, down a side path that had seen little in the way of traffic in a long while, the presence of weeds and creepers had made it almost invisible to the human eye, unless you know where to look. However, she knew. He followed without question, but still kept a firm grip upon the hilt of one sword, cautious of the unexpected.
He noticed that the ground sloped slightly, causing them to crest a small hill that broke through the treetops. Incredibly as Darius scanned the view, he could still see the city walls in the distance, meaning that somehow, they were still within the city itself. Aribeth had wandered towards the lone tree that flourished upon the hilltop. Darius watched as she traced the outline of something in to the tree trunk with her fingers, as she bent and kissed it. He moved slightly, and he was able to make out the shape of a heart carved in to the tree but not the letters carved within it. Nevertheless, he did not need to be up close to know that the initials that would be carved in to the tree trunk, "FM" and "ADT."
She sank beneath the shadowy comfort of its branches and held the trunk of the tree. Darius could see that there were no tears, just a sense of calm and peace radiating from her. He approached quietly, and she nodded, waving to the space beside her, asking him to join her there. He nodded and sank down next to her, waiting for her to break the silence. He knew that there was more to this than just a tree trunk. She stared to speak, staring off in to the distance, where the ground and horizon seemed to merge together, "Long ago, before I became a Paladin of Tyr …"
She spoke, and he leaned back, listening as she poured her life out to him again, her past, the story that few knew, about her past and her life, as the daughter of a ranger, the orc tribe that wiped out her family, of her hate filled carnage driven vengeance. She also told him how the snowstorm had driven her in to the arms some savior that had varied her in to the arms of the llmateri monks had shown her the path and given her part of the training to become a paladin of Tyr. She was trying to leave a good memory of herself, for him.
She continued on describing the early days of her relationship with Fenthwick Moss, and finally, Darius understood the significance of the tree they rested beneath – it was the place where Fenthwick Moss and Aribeth De Tylmarande first made their vows of love and devotion to one another, so long ago. Before everything went wrong from the both of them, but Darius was no fool, as he understood finally what she was doing. In her own way, Aribeth, was saying good bye, to those who cared for her the most, and he had to fight, to hold back his own tears, even as she shed a few of her own.
Aribeth wiped her tears away as she stared across the short gap between the two of them. He returned her gaze, their eyes locked as they both understood, and the unspoken truth that had passed between them the previous night. Neither of them were uncertain of how to broach what passed the night before, they both spoke at once, before they fell silent again, both of them staring at the distant horizon.
Finally, she took a deep breath, "I, just want to say thank you for what you did, when you stayed last night. You didn't have to," she paused unable to finish as Darius took her hand in to both of his, before sliding across the grass to close the gap between them.
One of his hands rose and gently cupped her chin, as he stared in to the sapphire eyes of the half elf, "I did not have to, but I chose to," he hesitated, "What I am about to tell you, he paused, "Long before I answered the call of this city, I had a wife who I lost, during child birth… It was my fault that I lost her – she never wanted children but she gave in to my desire for a son or daughter. I killed her."
It was her turn to sit back and listen, as he explained why he let none past the wall around his heart, why he could never bring himself to love another, less he make a mistake, one of the many he felt that he had made that caused him so much pain, that prevented him from sleeping easy at night. The massacre of his family had been avenged, laying the tormented spirits of his mother, father and sisters to rest. The loss of his wife, he still blamed himself for. Daelan Red Tiger, his body claimed by his tribe to be buried as a deserving warrior. The many others that he could not save, that had died at his hands. He blamed himself.
Aribeth, already leaning against him, looked him straight in the eye, "Darius, you cannot blame yourself for these deaths. You could do nothing to prevent them. All you seem to remember, all of your memories seem to be those of pain, guilt and suffering that you have inflicted or have suffered, let go of your past Darius. You cannot live like that."
He stared at her, and she stared back, neither of them breaking eye contact, the sun still shinning above them but now beginning to set in the western sky, sending trails of orange and red across the sky. Finally, he surrendered to what his heart felt, that he could no longer control. He cupped her face in his hand and guided her, as kissed her gently but firmly. It lasted only a few seconds.
The first kiss was soft and brief but the next was confident and more feverish. She didn't know how they had suddenly kissed, but she felt a thrill that she had not felt in a long time. He was overwhelmed as she was but the kiss awoke something primal, something she had not felt in many long months, since the first outbreak of the Wailing Death. She remembered suddenly, how her first real look at him had made him seem almost angelic. Maybe he was an angel, an angel in devils clothing with an equally horrifying temper – but a warrior angel none the less.
He broke away suddenly, "I, I can't do this."
"Don't let your memories kill you," she said softly, "I know you are still capable of love. It's not too late."
"It's too late. My memories and ghosts killed the part of me capable of love a long time ago. They don't get anyone but those who cross me killed."
"Perhaps, but a good memory could be what saves your life. She ran a hand down the side of his face, only to have him pull away, before he whispered quietly, "I'm not somebody that you want to get involved with. I'm not somebody that anyone should get involved with."
"I know that you have done a great deal of good."
"You told me once, Aribeth, you told me once long ago, that if you ever needed anyone, that you would want it to be me."
"I told you that, and I meant it when I said it in Port Llast. You are the only one that I can turn to now that… Fenthwick," she shook her head, "There is nobody but you left in my life that I can trust!"
He had thought that he understood her purpose of bringing him out here, but now he realized that there was something else, that she wanted a final something from him. But the trouble was that, he was absolutely unsure what exactly she wanted. Fed up of games and runabouts, "Aribeth, what do you want from me? I know you well enough to know that there is something," he took a deep breathe, "Please, tell me."
She hung her head, "You know me as my love did," she reward him with a small smile, "and you can read me almost as well as he could. You are right. I do want something from you," she took a deep breathe, "I know that I will die for my crimes. But I don't want to face Nasher's hang man…. I want, I want… you…"
Darius could only stare at her in disbelief, "You want me to…"
She nodded, "I would prefer your blade, to the hangman's rope."