Disclaimer: I do not own 'Baldur's Gate', the 'Forgotten Realms' or any characters therein. Wizards of the Coast do, at my last check. Lucky them. I do, however, own Fritha and certain other characters and plot points. Basically, if you don't recognise it from the game, it's probably mine.

– Blackcross & Taylor

A Hell of her making

Fritha awoke, aching muscles instantly tensing as the cold wind blasted over her. The girl struggled to sit, fighting through the mess of hair that was being whipped about her face to take in not the Hells, or even the Fugue Plane, but a blasted wilderness of smooth grey chequered tiles. The floor, which would not have looked out of place in a ballroom, stretched off about her, un-broken and featureless in every direction, to meet the sky on the distant horizon, a sick boiling green that swirled and moved like oil in water.

Her sword was gone, as was her bag and armour, the girl without even a cloak to pull about her against the chill. Perhaps this was it for her. A person who had done such things as she – perhaps this was to be her hereafter. A sound enough theory, though it did not explain the presence of the others.

She let her eyes drift over them, the seven bodies that lay unconscious about her, not breathing, and she held her breath for a quarter hour before she convinced herself that this was not a problem. Her friends were dead… and so was she.

They were beginning to stir, and Fritha watched as one by one they sat, each doing exactly as she had, noticing first her, but not quite managing a greeting before their attention was pulled to their surroundings. Then they would turn back to her, questions burning in their eyes, though she would just shake her head and gesture to the next stirring body until all were awake and sitting about her.

'Where are we?' came Imoen, gazing about with a mix of awe and disbelief. 'The last thing I remember was that blast of fire and the feeling of my stomach dropping.'

Valygar shrugged, looking uncomfortable in his skin.

'Aerie's spell killed the dragon, but the creature destroyed the walkway in its end. I presume we died in the fall.'

'Minsc died first in our company,' offered Jaheira, the man himself nodding proudly, 'taking with him the demon that had already killed half our own group. For me, I did not even see the blade, though I felt its sting sure enough.'

'And Solaufein?' asked Aerie, noticing the drow was not among them. The druid shrugged.

'Still fighting when I fell -the drow were on the losing side by then, perhaps he survived.'

'So we all fell…' the elf sighed, looking for a moment sad when a sudden panic lit her face, 'then Irenicus-!'

'Is dead,' finished Fritha, 'He died moments before I did.'

'Do you think he could be here as well?' asked Anomen, looking pale and ghostlike -a thought that made her want to laugh, though she merely shrugged.

'I can make a guess as to why I would be here, without my soul and everything, but the rest of you…'

Minsc was nodding wisely. 'Minsc and Boo felt it, the welcoming call of our many ancestors who have died in glorious battle. We were to ascend to them and join the Great Hunt. But then we felt a tugging and we realised our work by your side was not yet over. You called and we answered.'

A round of nods, the others had all felt the same it seemed. Fritha shook her head.

'I… I am sorry, if I had known-'

'We would have come in any case,' said Anomen.

'So, you didn't get your soul back then,' offered Imoen with another wary glance to their surroundings.

'I don't think so; perhaps I died before it could happen. Perhaps it was never going to.'

'Do not worry,' assured Jaheira firmly, 'if we were all able to join you here, then there must be a reason for it. We still are together and together we will face whatever comes.'

'Well,' said Imoen, clapping her hands together, 'are we just going to sit here and wait for it?'

Fritha nodded. 'Imoen, is right-'

'I usually am.'

'We should split up. Everyone pair off and spread out -we can meet back here in a quarter hour.' Fritha sighed, gazing about the blasted wilderness. 'I would warn you to be careful, but now we're all dead, it would seem rather redundant.'

Imoen sent a tentative smile to the man at her side as, about her, the others rose and began to move off.

'You with me, Minsc?'

The ranger nodded, reaching down a large hand to help her to her feet.

'So,' she continued, scanning the distant horizon, 'this way then?'

She started forward, the girl half glancing back to check he was following and Imoen just stifled her cry of surprise, jolted by the realisation she was suddenly alone.

'Minsc?' she shouted, casting frantically about her, 'Min- ah! Fritha!' she cried, whipping back to find the girl stood impassively behind her, 'Don't do that! Gods, you scared the life out of me!'

'Sorry.'

'Did you see where Minsc and the others went? I only took a step-'

'The space here is warped,' the girl provided promptly, 'I told him I'd go with you when you disappeared. He went with Jaheira.'

'Oh,' said Imoen shortly, half wondering from where these insights came as they fell into step, 'Well, good, because we haven't had a chance to talk for a while, what with Bodhi taking Anomen and everything that followed.'

Fritha snorted dully. 'And what would you have us talk about?'

'Well, what we're going to do. I mean, like Jaheira said: we're here, it has to be a good sign. We just need to find someway back.'

'Yes,' the girl sighed, 'I suppose you still have everything to lose now you've got your soul back. Imoen's in trouble, and suddenly she's desperate to pitch in and help.'

'What?'

'But it's always been like that, hasn't it?' Fritha continued matter-of-factly, a cruel counter to Imoen's rising emotions, 'You've always been very good at putting yourself first. Like back in Candlekeep -it was always your games, your rules, your way. And you couldn't wait to drop me when something more interesting came along –or someone.' She shook her head, smiling absently. 'It was so nice to meet Aerie and Nalia and everyone, and find out what it was like to have real friends. What is it?' Fritha asked, seeming puzzled by her injured expression. 'Oh come on, Imoen, let's face it, we never would have been friends if not for the fact we were forced together by our circumstances.'

Imoen shook her head, the lump in her throat making it painful to speak.

'Fritha, why- why are you saying these things?'

…

'Because they are the truth, brother,' she cried, Moira's pale face, tear-streaked and wretched as she gazed up at him, Anomen's heart torn by the sight. He had lost Valygar almost the instant he had stepped out from their group, the knight not alone for long and startled to find himself suddenly before the spirit of his beloved sister.

'Moira,' he entreated, desperate to alleviate the guilt churning within, 'I understand that I left you alone with Father after Mother died, but you assured me it was what you wanted! You told me to return to the seminary.'

The girl hiccupped a bitter laugh.

'It that how you recall it? I remember a girl in mourning tell a brother who was clearly so eager to leave he should follow his heart, the tears from the funeral still fresh on her face! And leave you did. But even after you entered the Order, you still had no time for me. I was left to care for Father while you pursued your precious knighthood! You knew of my misery -you always knew and merely pretended not to realise! You left me to die!'

…

Haer'Dalis stepped back, the words screamed with all the hatred of the wronged, his hands raised as he tried to calm the weeping girl before him.

'Kaerid, we spoke often of Equis –you said you would not leave him!'

'So you just abandoned me to my misery?' Kaerid sobbed, the long curtain of dark hair thrown back as she screeched the truths at him. 'You were my only friend!'

'But I did not leave,' he pleaded, 'My mother died –there were no money for lessons after that.'

'And it took coin to visit me?' she sneered wetly, 'You could have come to the school or even my home. But you did not come, because you did not care! You have never cared for anyone but yourself!'

'No, that is not so!'

…

'Oh, I think it is,' the gnome chuckled unpleasantly, 'You knew they all laughed at me, and you did nothing!'

'Kalah, it wasn't like that!' Aerie cried, 'I was so shy back then, I did not mean-'

'Lies!' he shrieked, 'You watched as they laughed, just as the others did. But perhaps you could see I was drawing close to my retribution. You guessed what I had planned and realised in that you could have your revenge too.

'No!'

'To get back at all those who had laughed at you, taunted you as you wept in that cage!'

…

'No, good Dynaheir, Boo says-'

'Boo says!' the witch shrieked, fine face screwed up in her contempt, 'Ever with that rodent. Does it speak of thy failure, Minsc? Mine sisters in the Wychlaran warned me, told me thou wast too addled to serve me as guardian, but I vouched for thee –I took thee on my Dajemma and thou killed me!'

…

'You killed yourself, Dermin!' Jaheira retorted angrily, 'We gave you a choice and you chose to fight us!'

The old man gave a bark of laughter.

'And what did you see in my eyes as you drove the blade in to my chest? A reflection of your victory?'

The druid shook her head. 'I saw an old friend who had been lost to beliefs that blood is stronger than will.'

'And I have been proved wrong since, have I?' Dermin crowed, 'Is Fritha still the model Bhaalspawn?' He gave another derisive laugh. 'You murdered me, betrayed your Harper brothers and you have doomed the whole of Toril for it!'

…

Valygar dipped his face, anything to avoid the piercing dark eyes of the woman before him.

'I see it now, Mother, I was wrong. At the time I believed you mad -corrupted beyond redemption.'

'And I suppose your attitude is much changed thanks to this admission?' she snapped, haughtily shaking back the mane of braided tresses in her disgust. 'I know it is not so! Even now you would doom our family to end all for your unfounded fear of magic!'

'It is a curse, mother!'

'You are the curse!' she shouted back, 'Oh, why had we only one child? Why were we damned with you?'

'Mother, please!'

'Dare you use that title for me? You murdered me, just as you murdered your father and your hands will never be free of that stain!'

…

Fritha walked on. There had been a slight flutter of alarm when she had turned to find Jaheira gone, but she could not feel properly afraid there. She looked up, the churning sky so discordant and yet somehow familiar, as though she had seen this place many times before.

'Fritha…'

She whipped back, the voice so familiar she did not even need to see the face. And there he was, just standing before her with the same woolly smile, the plain, grey robes of Candlekeep swathing his tall frame –as though he had never left.

'Gorion?'

The smile broadened at the address, his worn blue eyes sparkling. 'Fritha, my child.'

He stepped forward, his arms held wide ready to embrace her. Fritha's fist came out of nowhere.

'Sod off!' she snapped, at the old man now sprawled before her, 'You're no more Gorion than I am the Tooth Mouse, so stop wasting both our time and tell me why I'm here!'

Gorion's face twisted with a sneer and he called her a word she doubted her foster father even knew, before he faded into smoke and disappeared all together.

'Hells Teeth!'

She whirled at the booming laughter, nearly staggering back a step at the sight that met her. It was Sarevok, but not as she had known him. No longer the raven-haired, striking youth who had once held the Sword Coast in his grip -he looked much older now, as though there were suddenly decades between them, his hair hanging to his collar, shaggy and white -with stress or age, she could not tell. He had no armour, no sword –just the man walking slowly towards her, smiling grimly.

'You always were stronger than I ever realised; it is good to see others can make the same mistakes. How did you know it was not your father?'

Fritha frowned, but answered anyway. 'Because there is no way Gorion has been confined here and I don't imagine the dead can just wander about the afterlife as they choose -which begs the question as to why you are here as well.'

The man just shrugged.

'I am no shade, at least not in the way he was, and as for why I am here, well, I came because you summoned me, sister.'

He gestured to the ground at their feet and Fritha dropped to sit crossed-legged next to him, the huge man giving an amused sigh.

'It is ironic, is it not? I would have sacrificed anything -family, friends, the whole of the Sword Coast- in order to take up Bhaal's legacy, but it is you who would shun it, who is further on than all of us.'

'What is this place?'

'A fragment of our father's own domain, summoned and shaped by your mind.'

But Fritha was shaking her head. 'I did not shape anything – I had not the chance.'

Sarevok grinned that familiar predatory smile, one large finger tapping his temple for emphasis.

'Not your conscious mind, sister, but your unconscious one, the one that dreams of blood and death. It pulled you here even as the very fabric of the universe dithered over what to do with you: the soulless godchild. This place is its last chance –your last chance. Your soul is here as well, waiting to be claimed, but there is still one remaining who can steal it from you.'

'Irenicus is here?'

'Yes, he is being tested as your companions are -as you would have been had you not seen through the ruse. This place is yours, but it is our father's, too, and torment was his tool –all here will be tested and judged. They are pained, can you not feel them?'

Fritha closed her eyes. She could feel them –her friends- their pain and sorrow echoing about her mind. But she could feel their strength, too. Perhaps this was what was needed - everyone had to face their demons at some point.

'So why are you here?'

Sarevok shrugged again, broad shoulders shifting.

'I could not say. Perhaps a part of you knew I would hold these insights. I studied much of our Father before my end, and I am now well acquainted with the Abyss.'

Something behind those shrewd, grey eyes seemed to darken a moment, but then Sarevok blinked and it was gone. Fritha sighed.

'So Irenicus is being tested and then what? We fight and I will win back my soul? What does it matter? My body is dead.'

'Your body is nothing!' he burst out, seemingly angered by her resignation. 'You are not dead yet, and priests may perform such miracles of the flesh every day! It is your soul that will be your salvation -the others' too- if you choose to fight for it!'

'Then there is still a chance?' she pressed urgently.

Sarevok sent her an enigmatic smile. 'There is always a chance, sister, always…'

His voice faded with his form and she was alone once more in the howling winds. Fritha heaved herself upright, a new sense of purpose filling her as she set a point upon the distant horizon and began to walk. It began at first as a dark spot on the horizon that grew larger and longer with every step. His back was to her, though his shoulders seemed somehow hunched and he did not hear her approach, her footfalls masked by the roaring winds.

'Hello, Joneleth.'

He whirled at her voice, clearly startled though he straightened instantly when he saw it was her, proud and defiant. But Fritha could see the haunted look to his dark green eyes; he had faced trials, too, and she wondered briefly who he had seen. His sister perhaps? Someone else?

'Fritha,' he greeted, a cold smile that seemed more front than feeling pulling at his mouth, 'it seems our battle is not yet won and we are brought together again. I warn you now, I do not intend to lose this time. You will remain here in this Hell, and I will finally claim your soul as my own!'

'Hell?' Fritha repeated, 'This is no layer of the Abyss –as you will soon learn firsthand. You shrink from this place, because it is not you… it is me. I have looked into the depths of my soul, Irenicus, and I am not afraid -can you say the same?'

His face twisted with an angry sneer.

'You will fall!'

The spell was already building between his palms, Fritha moving on instinct to draw the sword that was no longer there, a desperate surge of panic seeming to fuel it as, within, she felt the essence stir. There was nothing for it, and Fritha felt a strange peace washing through her as she surrendered, even her scream seeming far away as bones cracked and muscles lengthened, and her last conscious thought was one of amusement; Irenicus's face, far below her and lit by the green glow of his spell, a mask of horror as he gazed up at what she had become.

As man or beast, the fight was hard. Irenicus battled as one who had everything to lose, spell after spell wracking her form, what part of her that was still there recoiling at the reek of burning tissue, the pain screaming through her body even as the essence pressed on, reaping flesh with claw and teeth.

Even now, as he teetered on the brink, Irenicus clung to life, his battered body working to summon his magics, one arm hanging limp and bloody by his side. Fritha could feel her own body flagging -even this monster's form could not take the punishment he had dealt it, her head heavy on its long neck and the blood in her mouth was not all his.

Irenicus's eyes were locked on hers, too full of hatred to hold any fear as he slowly backed from her. His magic was building; it was now or never. One last surge of will was all it took and she watched as a great clawed hand swept out. A hoarse scream, a spray of blood and the world faded to forgiving darkness.

…

Fritha's eyes snapped open, taking in the pearlescent blur of the high vaulted ceiling as her lungs, unused for days, drew in a great gasping breath.

She was alive.