General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

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Searching

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Jaheira decided they did not have the time to wait for Coran to come around from Xan's spell, and she instructed Nalia to stay with him until he had recovered, and only then for them to follow on. Maiyn glanced at her surroundings and moved to walk beside Imoen when the half-elf hesitated.

"On second thought, we may need some more backup of a magical nature," she said, signalling for the human girl to follow Minsc and Solen as they led the way through the winding platforms towards the far side of the city. "Maiyn can stay here with him."

The ranger paused and glared at Jaheira. "You will not treat me differently over this," she said warningly.

Jaheira scoffed slightly. "Of course not, gracious leader of ours," she said, moving closer to Maiyn and lowering her voice. "He will not sleep for long. Make the use of the time before you rejoin us."

Maiyn nodded, offering a weak but thankful smile, and watched the others as they disappeared around a turn, behind one of the tree homes that graced almost every side of the platform. She sighed as she looked down at the still unconscious Coran, settling down beside him and lifting his head gently so that it rested on her arm as Verya watched.

"He is sad."

Maiyn nodded slowly. I have hurt him a lot.

"You are sad."

I am conflicted.

"Why?"

I do not know what to do.

There were a few moments of silence, and Maiyn was sure Verya looked almost thoughtful. Then the cat began to purr. "Follow your instinct."

-----------------------

Imoen managed to find herself walking beside Nalia after Anomen had disappeared, rushing to be one of the first to follow Solen. The noblewoman was looking drawn and tired, and she seemed to have aged in the little time Imoen had spent in her company. The young mage gently reached out, taking the other girl's arm in her own as she did often with Maiyn. Nalia looked puzzled initially, but then smiled weakly, even when Yessie came bounding down from the trees and perched on a shoulder between them.

"It's been a strange few days, hasn't it?" Imoen asked conversationally.

Nalia sighed. "It has been a testing year. Had I know what was in store..."

"I've lost a father too," Imoen said softly. "Though Gorion wasn't our real father, I think we both loved him and treated him as if he was."

"It must have been hard to lose him and to find yourselves on the road at such a young age," Nalia observed. "I am, perhaps, lucky in a sense; my home is secure -- or as secure as it can be in these times -- and I can go back to it whenever I wish. Once, though... once before, I yearned for adventure... for a chance to do good and make things right." She paused. "But then I suppose I realised the harshness of it all," she finished bitterly.

"It's not all bad," Imoen smiled. "We sometimes even manage to get a 'thank you' from people!"

Nalia chuckled slightly, reaching up to gently ruffle Yessie's head with her finger. The squirrel chattered happily.

"Mostly, though, we do it because we had nothing else we could do, I suppose," the mage continued thoughtfully. "Maiyn kept saying that I could and should have gone back to live with Winthrop in Candlekeep; but I couldn't have left her, you know. Not then. Not now, either."

"It must be nice, having a sister," the darker-haired woman said hesitantly. "I was an only child, and visitors to the Keep were always so stuffy. Even their children were dreadfully prim and staid."

Imoen nodded sympathetically. "Candlekeep could be like that," she reminisced. "Lots of old monks and dusty books, and very few other youngsters for us to see. I think that's why we're so close -- we either had to love each other, or really dislike the competition!"

"Then it is good, for you both, that it was love," Nalia smiled.

"It is," Imoen agreed. "And we've found friends on the road... Jaheira and Khalid were the first we stayed with for any time. They were Gorion's friends, and they stuck by us even when they found out what Maiyn was. When she ran away from Baldur's Gate, they were the first to get ready to follow her."

"Khalid died, didn't he?" Nalia asked timidly. "In... in the mage's dungeon?"

Imoen couldn't help the shudder that rippled through her, causing Yessie to scamper away into the trees again. She shook her head as Nalia began to apologise profusely.

"I'm fine, really. It's just sometimes hard to remember, you know? But... yes. Khalid died there, and so did Dynaheir. She was Minsc's witch before he asked me to take the place."

Nalia nodded. "Coran has spoken on occasion about his former companions, and he's mentioned those names. It is nice to know of them, to know of his past..."

Imoen squeezed the other girls arm as Nalia sighed. "Dynaheir was always quite disapproving of his casualness," Imoen explained. "And Khalid gave him a far less hard time than Jaheira did. But they all got on, in their own way. We all did."

"He spoke of Jaheira being... trying," Nalia said quietly. "She seems decent enough, if a bit..."

"Bossy?" suggested Imoen.

Nalia nodded. "But she welcomed him back so warmly. I was expecting her to be giving him the cold shoulder, or some such."

"That's not really her style," Imoen said, looking up as the rest of the group stopped. They were passing a large, fairly ornately decorated building. Small carved rocks had been set against the tough bark with clay which had dried in the sun to decorate the frame of the open door leading inside. Solen was discussing something with Jaheira, his hands pointing to various walkways leading further into the city. Imoen tugged gently at Nalia's sleeve.

"C'mere," she whispered, pulling the other mage after her as she sidestepped towards the grandiose settlement. The others didn't seem to notice them; most of the elves and the companions were listening to the debate being held over what route to take, while Minsc and Anomen were standing side by side at the edge of a precipice; staring down in wonderment at how high they'd ascended without realising.

Nalia's eyes widened as Imoen dragged her into the foyer of the building; first with worry about being caught, but then with awe at the sight. The room had been almost completely destroyed by the war; urns and pots lay shattered on the hand-woven rugs, while paintings lay fallen from their hangings -- and, more often than not, shattered. In the centre of the room was a solitary object, still gleaming with an eerie white glow despite the huge crack that had split it almost in two. The basin was empty, but the statues that had once graced the fountain in complete majesty were unscathed.

"They're beautiful," Nalia whispered, unable to take her eyes from them. Imoen nodded her agreement, then let go of the other girl's arm and moved slowly forward to examine them more closely. Nalia called out a low warning, shifting uncomfortably and checking behind them -- no one was there, though, and the sounds of voices could still be heard outside. They hadn't been missed.

"Just a second," Imoen murmured, approaching the sculptures and reaching out to touch them. They were cool to the touch, and she felt no magical radiance coming from them which made her feel a little disappointed. Still, she couldn't help but gaze at them. A man and a woman both, she entwined around him as he smiled to his watchers neither overly benignly, or cruelly.

"Imoen!" Nalia called. "Come on -- they're moving!"

She nodded distractedly, her eyes trying to take in as much details as she could so she could remember the sight for a long time. It took a fair amount of effort to tear herself away, running back over to Nalia and rejoining arms as they slipped back outside, only just in time to join the last of the group without being spotted by anyone except Minsc; the berserker nodded with relief when he spotted Imoen, turning back to stride forward to the front of the group again as she waved cheerily at him.

"What do you think that was?" Nalia asked quietly as they walked. The noblewoman looked back over her shoulder as she asked, almost as if she thought someone would overhear them.

"I don't know," Imoen admitted. "Somewhere quiet, perhaps, to go and pray perhaps?"

Nalia frowned slightly. "I suppose it could be. They do have a temple, though..."

"Maiyn doesn't meditate in a temple, though," Imoen noted. "She prefers to be outside, but I guess that's because she's... well, more an outdoors type." The mage shrugged. "I guess it was maybe just somewhere nice and peaceful to go."

Nalia nodded. "It's a shame to see it like that. Perhaps they will repair it, though. Everything looked so..."

"Personal?" Imoen asked. The two girls nodded together; despite the destruction, the pieces and furnishings of the room had appeared to be lovingly crafted by the elves of the city and donated to the room to add to the atmosphere. Imoen couldn't quite explain the feeling she'd had as she first looked into the foyer, but it was peaceful. She'd felt almost at ease.

Nalia, however, was looking sad again. Imoen frowned slightly.

"For someone who said she was lucky before, what with having a home and all," Imoen remarked, "you look pretty miserable."

Nalia stared at the other girl for a few moments, then snorted slightly and allowed herself to finally smile properly. "I take it you tire of the subtle approach after a while?"

"It gets kinda boring, yeah," Imoen grinned. "And we're surrounded by doom and gloom almost constantly. It doesn't sit right with me that someone we've only just met should be quite so depressed already. I mean, we had enough of that when we met Xan..."

"He is close to Maiyn, isn't he?" Nalia asked carefully as she bit at her lip.

Imoen raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Well, after the scene you just witnessed, that's a pretty strange question to ask."

Nalia reddened.

"If you want to ask something, then just ask," Imoen said matter-of-factly. "I know there's something between you and Coran, and I know that there used to be something between him and Maiyn. I don't know quite what he's told you about her, but you're obviously dying to know, and at least I won't betray her trust in answering your questions."

Nalia nodded and lapsed into a thoughtful silence for a few minutes. Eventually she spoke again.

"Everything just seems to have happened so quickly. Coran did not hide anything about himself, but it took time for him to reveal the complete story to Valygar and me, I think. And then, just as I was getting used to it, we managed to catch up with you all, and..."

"And you went from his main confidante, to just another one of the group?" Imoen asked.

Nalia shrugged. "I don't think I mind that, as I expected it to happen. I mean, you travelled together for a long time and you've all been extremely kind to me. Even Maiyn is polite and friendly when we converse."

"That's because she doesn't hate you or think you're a terrible person," Imoen reasoned. "I think she views the past few months as a series of unfortunate events, which had consequences worse than she could ever have imagined. She had tried to hard to convince herself that Coran was gone so she could move on, and she did, in part; and now she's found out that he hasn't gone. And I really don't think she knows what to do."

"I think Coran does," Nalia said softly. "He was so excited every time we thought we would catch up with you, and so disappointed when we did not. I think the only reason he did not reach you earlier, when you were in the catacombs, is because he'd convinced himself that he would miss her again. And when he found you all instead, he actually looked like he fit in."

"He does. And so do you, now, for as long as you want to," Imoen smiled. "You all need to talk, obviously -- this can't go on, and things need to be decided, settled... but you're all adults. Well, you and Maiyn are. Clearing the air would do everyone a lot of good."

Nalia shook her head. "There's no air to clear, not on my part," she said. "Whatever Coran and Maiyn had, they had it long before I appeared, and he doesn't feel the same for me as he does her. I'm... I'm content to be his friend. It's been something I've tried to ignore for a long time, but the realisation can't be ignored any longer; not now we're in this company."

"There's more than the three of you involved," Imoen pointed out, looking over to where Xan walked along, his eyes turned down to study the path before him. "A lot of emotions and pride is being consumed by this."

"Perhaps we all just need some time to think it over. Things sometimes become clearer the further you are from them."

"Sometimes," Imoen acknowledged. "I think Maiyn will need space... she has more to deal with now than ever before, and it can't be easy for her."

"She will have Coran if she wants him," Nalia said. "Your druid friend may have tried to pretend that she was concerned about your sister's health, but I think her motives were slightly more involved."

Imoen shrugged and gave Nalia's arm a reassuring squeeze. "I think she, more than any of us, accepted Coran and Maiyn being together. It was never much of an issue for anyone really... if they were happy, then it was fine with us. They didn't go out of their way to really rub it in anyone's faces, and it was their own business."

"What about Xan?" Nalia asked quietly. "He must have cared."

Imoen nodded slowly. "He must have... I always thought he liked her, but he never stood much chance. Coran's personality completely overshadowed his, and Coran went straight for her, while Xan... Xan always seemed to be on the edge. There, and dependable, and so obviously caring in his own, distant, gloomy way. But she was swept away by the more animated of her kin, and I think Xan just quietly accepted it."

"And then they thought Coran..."

"I guess so."

"Do you think Maiyn really wants him?"

"Xan?" Imoen sighed. "No -- if you want me to be completely honest, then no. Perhaps, if... if Coran had died. But not while Coran is still around. I think her feelings for him haven't died enough for her to move on, even if she did want to."

Nalia nodded, offered a weak smile, and gently removed her arm from Imoen's; moving away slightly and staring ahead to the platform they were fast approaching. Many elves were clustered in the centre, the uninjured tending to the hurt as they had been at the main gate of the city. Imoen wondered just how many citizens had perished fighting for their home, and it sent a shiver down her spine. They'd arrived just in time, it seemed; one more item to find, and then Jaheira and Xan could lead them to perform the ritual they'd been instructed to do. Imoen had overheard Solen speak vaguely of the Spirits of the Leaflord with awe in his voice. He had not witnessed them himself, but had heard tales from his forefathers -- and he did not doubt that their strength would be enough to secure the city from the outside threats and any remaining within its enclosure.

The only danger that would be left would be Irenicus -- and it would be down to Imoen and her friends to deal with him; for the city, for the elves, and -- more importantly -- for Maiyn.

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Xan watched as Solen approached General Sovalidaas, and wondered how many casualties the solider had come across during his own fights through the northern sections of the city. A brief conversation ensued between them, loud enough that Xan could have overheard had he so wished, but he found his mind dangerously wandering onto other matters.

So now she knew. He wondered how long Jaheira would have kept it from her; he couldn't believe the druid would have wilfully held such important information from their leader, but he could accept that things had happened and prevented there from being a 'right time'. But still... he could not decide if he was glad of Maiyn's discovery or not -- though he was certain that the way she'd found out was extremely undesirable.

But it had only been a matter of time, hadn't it? Anomen and Imoen appeared to be even closer than they had been during the days spent in the cloisters of the Order, and so it was no surprise that the secret had finally spilled to the excitable young human girl considering that the priest knew of the condition. Also understandable was her reaction, to a degree; to know that, once at least, she and her sister had shared every secret, no matter how large or small, and then... for fate to take its course, pulling them apart, and then throwing them together again to learn that they were closer then they'd originally thought...

...And that they were actually competitors against each other for their dead father's inheritance.

Imoen had said nothing to him to suggest she knew how Maiyn was feeling. He'd wondered if it was truly because they had drifted apart in their separation to a degree, or if it was merely because Maiyn didn't know her own mind. The latter weighed heavily in his heart; the reappearance of Coran had only served to cause him more uncertainty about her feelings for him, but the discovery of the child had taken away the option of withdrawing completely from her life.

And so Imoen, assuming that Maiyn was party to the knowledge of her state, had been hurt and upset by the exclusion, and unwittingly informed the elven ranger before she was meant to know. And then, due to his own inability to feign surprise at the news, she had realised that he'd already been told. He wondered how it had made her felt; he was sure that it wouldn't be anything positive.

And, of course, now Coran was aware. More aware? He had acted almost like he had known or suspected something, and the real issue -- that of the child -- seemed to have escaped him, blinded as he was by the realisation that he'd been overlooking his alleged rival all this time. Would that be enough to turn him against the girl? Xan doubted it; not unless Coran was an incredible hypocrite -- and though he would happily call Coran many things, he didn't think he was that a charlatan on that level.

What would happen now was anyone's guess. Jaheira had been unsuccessful with her attempts to disguise the motives of her asking Maiyn to stay behind with the other elf, although she had made a commendable effort. They would talk, of course -- Jaheira would have made it clear to Maiyn that she would look after things, she would see to the Palace, so the old lovers could rediscover their passion and their closeness. To think anything else was hopeless.

And where would that leave him? He had duties, he had responsibility. But he would also have an heir. The thought made his stomach lurch; what if it was a son? What if his blade remained active until his death, and sought a new wielder? That possibility had been the deciding factor in his decision to never settle. He did not want this legacy to become someone else's burden, even if it was meant to be an honour.

And even if it meant he would be alone forever. But now he could be alone, and yet still have the painful realisation that, one day, he would be inflicting this weight -- this responsibility, onto someone else. He groaned quietly.

Was it not enough to think that, son or daughter regardless, his child would be brought up with only the barest of contact with him? Even if Maiyn did not find her destiny lay with Coran, she was unlikely to choose to be with Xan after all that had transpired. She was growing away from him, and whether or not she'd become affected by her God, she was becoming more feral; more alone and solitary from the People.

He could never live like that. The limited experiences he'd had at feeling apart from his kin as he grew up and became absorbed in his studies had taught him how important it was to be a part of something; to belong. Perhaps that was why he'd been so anxious to claim his father's blade, though now it appeared little more than a curse to him. Perhaps she would be right to turn her back on her kin, to be seduced by the wild elves as they left their lands and populated small, sparse settlements in remote woods; together, but alone.

But he could not live like that. And the only glimmer of hope he could find, was believing that Coran could not, either.

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Maiyn had ensured that Coran was as comfortable as he could be, settling herself down beside him and letting her arm cradle his shoulders as he leaned against her. She now sat there, back against the gnarled tree behind her and stared quite openly at Laerir until he moved his own gaze elsewhere. She had noticed his curious looks, only half masked by the distasteful expression he levelled at the unconscious Coran.

He was not the only one -- many of them had given her curious looks as she sat there, holding the other elf in her arms and stroking his hair gently. She could hear them murmur -- noting the humanness of it all! No elf should behave like that... they should hold themselves poised, with grace and elegance, watching from a distance no matter how they felt inside. It was so terribly N'Tel'Quessir; so terribly crude to throw oneself down beside the body of a loved one and weep at the loss. It was much more tragic to watch the event with an unreadable expression, leaving those around who were not as bound to the Weave confused as to their feelings.

She saw two elves, both fitted with elven chainmail and carrying beautifully ornate swords; one man, one woman. They barely looked at each other, and instead surveyed their surroundings with an air of coolness and readiness, fully aware that another attack could come at any time. And yet, twice now, she'd caught them when their eyes met; their gazes softened; worry, love, fear all shone through, the concern for the other shining brightly for only a split second. And then they'd return to their stoic displays, reminding her of when she first met Kivan. How he had changed -- how he had mellowed -- in his time with the group. Even Xan had, perhaps...

She looked back down at her ex-lover. He looked almost peaceful as he lay there, his breathing regular, his cheek twitching now and then as his mouth threatened to reveal a sleeping smile. It brought back many memories of lazier mornings in Baldur's Gate when they had cared for Namara. Maiyn would wonder, occasionally, how the child was faring, but now it almost seemed to be forcing itself into her thoughts. She'd loved the child, and yearned for the day when she'd be able to bring her own into the world... but then she'd found out what she was and the dream had been taken away from her.

It had been cruel to discover that something that should have made her so happy would now only serve to cause her so much pain. But perhaps it needn't necessarily be like that. If she survived the battle with Irenicus, there was no reason why she could not just go far away from everyone who knew what she was, and bring up her child with the love she knew she'd have.

But, Xan... She sighed to herself. What was it she felt for him? He was, she had to face, almost as outwardly indifferent to emotion as the two elven lovers she found herself intermittently watching. But she'd grown closer to him -- close enough to know that inside he was warmer. He was not like the elves here... her own kind, but so different to her that it almost hurt. But he was almost like them -- and his duty bound him to them, as it bound him to all other elves. She wished nothing more to do with the denizens of Suldanessellar. Would Evereska hold the same? Was this truly how her kin were?

She could never settle for that, it was painfully clear. Her childhood years surrounded by humans had made her how she was, and she would not -- she could not -- change for anyone. She had comrades, companions -- she had friends. And she'd had a lover who was of her kind and who understood her. Could she really say that Xan understood her?

No one understands you, child. Except your father.

She sighed bitterly. I see you are back. I had hoped you'd given up.

Why would I give up? You are now conversing with your own head. If you are so easily maddened, it will be simple for your taint to overwhelm you.

But it hasn't yet, has it? And anyway, Imoen is my sister. Surely she can understand me?

Does she communicate the voices in her head?

Maiyn thought for a moment. Does that mean you talk to her too?

You said I had been quiet. Perhaps I was absent from your conscious -- there are plenty of others to choose from, after all.

Maiyn grit her teeth. Then why don't you go back to them? I'm sure there's more out there that are like my dear old brother, and whom you'd have a great deal more success with.

It is not a success unless there is a challenge beforehand. Victory is much sweeter when the victim fights but cannot resist.

What do you mean by that? Silence. Maiyn repeated the question on her thoughts over and over again, but she could not sense the presence any more; either it had gone again, or it had discovered how to conceal itself from her detection. Either way, it was not good news -- she had to find Imoen.

"Coran -- wake up," she whispered, gently prodding the fighter. He grunted and let out a loud snore, then attempted to roll over and promptly tumbled over onto the ground. This was enough to bring an abrupt end to his slumber.

"Come on," she said, scrambling to her feet and causing Verya to stalk away, then holding out a hand to him and heaving him to his feet with some difficulty. "We've got to catch up with the others."

Coran blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking around him with a puzzled expression. "What-" he began.

"No time," she interrupted, firmly taking his hand and grabbing her pack. "Verya -- can you lead?" The cat turned on its tail, padding down the walkway Maiyn's companions had used as they left. "I'll remind you as you walk," she said, dragging the fighter along behind her. "But for now, we have to find the others." She paused, casting one dark look behind her and jerked her head to something lying on the ground. "You might want to... take that."

Coran looked back blearily, his eyes settling on the large sword lying inconspicuously on the ground. He frowned slightly. "It looks... familiar," he noted, moving over and picking it up gingerly.

"Oh, it is," Maiyn replied, matter-of-factly, trying not to think about it too much. "But never mind that for now -- we need to be elsewhere!"