Title: Not Yet by Lightning

Chapter: Twenty-One

Author: Jade Sabre

Notes: A million bazillion thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Mere words cannot express my thanks and my happiness. Only one more chapter to go!

This one was tough, guys, and I hope I did it justice.

Disclaimer: I don't own Neverwinter Nights, or any of its sequels or expansions, or any of the characters contained herein, aside from my PC, who was created on a Bioware engine and thus probably therefore partially belongs to them too.

21

There were very few people in the world (fewer, now) who understood why Laura Farthing was so quiet and calm, all the time, how she managed to pare down her reactions to the smallest of smiles or the briefest of nods that, so rare in their frequency, warmed the hearts of anyone on the receiving end of one. Those knowledgeable few also knew that Laura was as unaware of her effect on other people as she was aware of her own sense of poise, and its origin. She stood tall, straight, and quiet, and could do so for hours on end; she looked on everything with a regard as indifferent as it was observant; and sometimes, very rarely, it seemed her blood ran as cold as an elf's.

Laura loved her father and knew he loved her in return, and so she modeled herself on his behavior, unconsciously as a child, with a growing conviction as she grew older. Their love was never one of emotion, of words or of the normal gestures—a hug, a kiss goodnight—but one of action, of protection or teaching or sheer patience. She thought she understood him, as much as anyone understands the ones they love, and so she knew that he never said he loved her because that would leave him open, vulnerable, and she wanted to be as strong as he was. As she grew older, and learned the how and the why of his silence, she understood that his strength lay in the wall he had constructed between himself and the world, and that whatever he felt behind the wall he kept to himself. So Laura mimicked him, and over time the mimicry became habit, and she found her wall useful and saw no reason to destroy it simply because others found it strange or unnerving—she privately enjoyed the faint pride in her father's manner when she behaved reasonably and rationally, rather than emotionally. They were alike; they understood each other, and she needed no other form of support.

Now, however, with her father directing her archers and her soldiers looking on, she realized she hadn't understood, not really, and that her walls weren't half as well built as those surrounding her keep. Now she knew the wall wasn't the strength, but the resistance; walls were only as strong as the ones standing atop them, defending them, and her father had nothing left for such. She didn't realize she knew this; it was as instinctive as her panicked attempts to shore up the breach, to lock down the places she'd somehow missed when she'd first tried to harden her heart, and just as painful. And she could fool her soldiers, and she could fool her sergeants, and she could fool her closest companions; but behind the reserve, behind the numbness, behind the wall, there was no strength; only pain.

"I almost stayed," he said. "And that's why I have to go."

I almost stayed, he said, facing her from across the courtyard, but the open gate framed his shoulders and the backlit sun left his face in shadow, and he was already turning away.

"Then go," she said.

And he went.

The wind stirred, brushing her hair, and blowing away the traces of his footprints in the dirt.

And he was gone.

"Um," Neeshka said, into the silence of the courtyard, devoid even of chirping birds—Elanee had sent all the wildlife elsewhere—and Laura didn't know what expression she gave in return. "What do we do now?"

"We fight," she said.

"But—" Casavir started.

"He wanted to go. He's gone. We can hold the Keep without him. We could hold the Keep if all we had were farmers with pitchforks. The men are ready; the walls are strong; our wills are sure. We fight."

She said the words, and knew the others believed her, and didn't know why; she was nothing more than a stupid girl with a broken gate and a wall with no defense—

But there were soldiers on her walls, and her mind, always two steps ahead of her heart, knew what to do—

Hoar protect me, she prayed as the men regained their courage, slowly coming out of their surprised stupor and fortifying for the attack. Hoar protect them from my own stupidity. Hoar protect me from myself.

She felt overcome with peace, locking away the distractions so carefully she was sure she didn't feel anything at all, and a rush of strength that defied any understanding; it filled every crack in her soul, and begged to spill out over the walls, even as the sentries shouted the first warning. Trust in my strength, and your self, little one, he whispered, and I will see you through this day.

She smiled, and raised her shield to face the onslaught.