Author's note: this story is based on an idea that corglacier and I were tossing around. It is the idea that both Bishop and my CE assassin Carianna could actually earn redemption and become better people.

I also discovered that ancient warriors would wear tattoos of their Gods on their predominant weapon arm, hand, etc. I thought that was cool.

I owe stickchick a ton for helping me with this; I couldn't have done it without her. It's totally alternate universe, and outside the OC, but it's just meant to be a good, emotional read. So, don't take it too seriously, alright?

I awoke the next morning to Karnwyr licking my head. I groaned and sat up; Karnwyr seemed pleased with his job and moved on to licking Bishop's head. "Eh, whazzat? Whozzaire?" he said groggily, sitting up as well. Karnwyr whined as I shook my head; my futile attempt to shake off the last remnants of sleepiness.

"Oh no; Cari, we have to pack up, now," Bishop said urgently, throwing on his trousers and tunic and quickly buckling his leather.

As I pulled on my own clothes and armor, I asked him, "What's going on?"

He shook his head. "No time, just pack up!" I don't think I'd ever torn down camp so quickly. I had just thrown everything onto my shoulders when Bishop grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into a nearby thicket.

Thankfully, a ranger and an assassin are skilled at moving without leaving a trail, because not two seconds after we dove into the brush did a Luskan scouting party come through, obviously drawn by the pyre, which had thankfully died down.

"I know they're here somewhere, Captain," a gruff voice said.

"Yeah, they can't have gone far," a higher-pitched voice agreed.

I could feel Bishop tense next to me. I knew his hatred of Luskans was something to be feared. We kept still as the small band looked around, but we'd done such a good job hiding our tracks they couldn't tell which way we'd gone.

After what felt like years, the scouts moved north, obviously heading back to Luskan. I felt Bishop relax once more. I had feared his anger would get the better of him, and I was scared of what may have happened to him had we been spotted. I looked at him with concern. "Bishop, are you alright?"

He sighed. "Cari, for the longest time, the only genuine emotion I could feel was hatred towards those people, but now, now I felt fear. Not even fear for me, all I could think about was what I would do to them if they so much as looked at you. I couldn't bear it."

"Really?" He nodded.

"I was thinking the same thing about you, mo leannán," I said quietly.

"Were you?" He seemed astonished. "I've never had anyone care so much about me before, fy cariad." I smiled and gave him a quick kiss. He blushed, a bashful smile playing around his mouth.

I giggled. "Should we get going?"

Bishop nodded. "The grave isn't far, Cari, only a couple hours. Then, our last stop, and we'll be free. If the Morninglord agrees with us, that is," he added hurriedly, looking up at the Heavens as if wishing Lathander himself would come down and give him a pat on the head.

We stuck to the shadows of the forest for the rest of the trip north. It didn't take long for us to reach the mass grave Bishop had buried the Luskans in. I didn't dare ask him what he had done here, or near here, for his face had taken on a stony quality as he looked at the simple boulder marking the large pit behind it.

"I know I cannot make amends to every family each victim is a part of," he said quietly, "I only ask for forgiveness for my actions, actions that were once driven by hatred. There is no room in my heart for hatred anymore," he looked at me, "only love, and the other wonderful emotions that come with it."

I smiled and took his hands. "I too, feel no hatred anymore. Not towards anyone, not even that monster of my youth. My heart is only filled with my love for you, Bishop." The ranger smiled back, but we broke apart as we were simultaneously hit with a fierce wave of pain.

I cried out as the skin on my inner forearms burned; I could hear Bishop yelling as he clutched the back of his right hand. Then, as suddenly as the pain had started, it ceased. I tore my bracers off, expecting to see my skin burned off, but instead I saw two highly-detailed, golden-red suns on my forearms, one even covering the long, thin scar on my left arm from when I left Cyric's service. I looked at Bishop and raised my arms; he looked down at his hand in amazement as he turned it to face me. He bore an identical sun on the back of his bow-hand.

I stared at the brands in amazement. "Lathander must think we can really do this, Bishop, he doesn't bestow these brands on just any pilgrims."

Bishop laughed. "Hey, I'm happy to do this as long as we can, just as long as I don't have to become a paladin…ouch!" He yelped and grabbed his right hand, making a face as he looked up to the sky. "Fine! No more paladin cracks!" I laughed.

Lathander obviously has as much faith in us as we do in him, I thought. "You ready for that last stop, Bishop? It's a last stop of sorts for me as well."

He nodded. "Let's head out. If we're lucky, we can make it to the Keep in a little over a week."