This is an AU. I'm not a stickler for accuracy in the details of the Neverwinter universe such as gods etc. but I do try my best. This story does have explicit sexual content, 18+. If you are offended by sexual themes don't start reading! There is artwork for this story at my deviantart account under aeltari.
For several days, Sand watched Kyrie, unseen. He saw her learn to care for the farm animals, eventually trying her hand at hitching up a horse to a cart. He watched her climb on the fence to reach the horse's back, and ride off to the river, or through the fields for hours at a time.
Color returned to her face, and she began to smile more. One cool evening, Kyrie emerged from the little house and sat on the porch stairs, looking out over the yard. Magda had gone out to visit her neighbours in her little goat cart, and the cat sought out a warm lap and climbed into Kyrie's. She absently stroked the soft fur.
There was a disturbance in the air, and she felt something being draped around her neck. Raising her hand, she pulled away a finely carved necklace, tens of tiny leaves and flowers wrapped around a vine, carved from a bright silver metal and adorned with tiny red gems.
It was midday; the heat in the sun was oppressive. Kyrie sat with her back to a rock by the river, her boots beside her, her feet dangling in the water.
Tomorrow they would head off to Old Owl Well, where an orcish uprising was causing big troubles for a member of the King's personal guard. She was tired of travelling, tired of fighting, tired of trying to be strong for her friends.
She had watched a guardsman propose to his sweetheart on the battlement of Forte Locke, attended the wedding and celebrated with the happy couple. Her heart ached. Love seemed something so remote, so untouchable for one such as her. Who would want to romance a child of the Mere of Dead Men? Who would want to dance with a lady whose body was covered with mithril and plate? What beauty lay in a face sometimes bruised and battered by battle, hair never allowed to flow free? What charms could possibly be found in eyes the color of a sunset and hair the color of midnight? No, love was something that would not find her. Love, children, the trappings of normality were not written into her destiny and she would be well versed to remember that.
"May I join you?" Sand smiled down at her, and at a nod he lowered himself to the ground beside her. He held a box in his hands, and placed it into her lap.
"I had this made for you in town. There was an artisan there, and he was elven like myself. Elven crafters are quite adept at their chosen craft. I do hope you will like it, I know it may not be quite what you are used to, but nonetheless, there it is then."
Kyrie had opened the hand carved box, and lifted out the most intricate, beautiful necklace she had ever seen. Tiny leaves, with flowers set in red gemstone, were carved around a vine of the purest silver. The tiny leaves tinkled when they moved. In all her days, Kyrie had never beheld such finery. Her hands felt clumsy, unworthy to hold such a delicate gift. Tears she would not allow stung her eyes and she turned to Sand.
"I don't deserve such a lovely gift, Sand. It's far too beautiful, for one such as I. My clumsy hands might shatter it."
He had simply smiled and taken it from her.
"It is not meant for your hands, Kyrie." He placed it around her neck, and then gently brushed her cheek. Cupping her face in his hands, he touched his forehead to hers, longing to kiss her, not daring to make so bold a move…
Kyrie stood up and turned around, the necklace falling from her hands to the porch floor, the cat running off with a vocal complaint. Sand looked at her, the sky blue eyes full of regret. She stepped up towards him slowly, eyes level with his.
"I, remember…the sun, the river, the …the box…"
He nodded slowly, barely breathing. Her eyes were wide, liquid gold, her hair hanging loose around her face. She raised her hands to his face, fingertips gently tracing his eyes, his cheeks. A feeling of certainty, of hidden knowledge flowed over her again. Memories whose details would not reveal themselves, easily gave up their collective feelings with a rush.
"You wanted, you…wanted..." her voice trailed off as she touched her lips to his.
He didn't move, didn't dare to breathe. This woman, whose heart he had sought after for so long, whose lips he dreamed of, whose body he longed for.
Kyrie stepped back. "You couldn't tell me how you felt, all those times when I was alone and hurting, you just watched me and didn't say a word. Why, Althraion? Why didn't you tell me how you felt before Old Owl Well, when you gave me this gift? Those days, those nights when Cassi and I were first getting to know each other, you had so many chances but you just let me go. Why?"
Sand was trembling. "Because I thought you could never want me."
Kyrie shook her head sadly. "But I did, Sand. I did."
The air displaced, and he vanished.
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The nightmare tore through Kyrie's dream with a vengeance.
The scent of burning flesh, the sound of horrified, tortured screams replacing the soft memory of a softly playing flute, and two strong loving arms holding her gently.
She found herself standing in a dark room facing a figure hanging on the wall in chains, blood oozing from several slash wounds on the body. The head hung down, what was left of the man's clothing hung in tatters.
She could smell blood and waste, could hear moans and screams bouncing off the walls, prayers unheard being whispered in desperation.
Occasionally a malicious laugh would echo from deep within that hellish place.
Kyrie's breath grew shallower and shallower. She was sure she was asleep, but at the same time she felt as though she were truly standing in that place of death.
The figure on the wall moved slightly and raised his head. Kyrie heard a woman's terrible heart rending scream and realized it was coming from her.
The man's eyes had opened and he had stared right at her, eyes of bright blue, in a face battered and bruised and covered with blood.
Casavir.
Kyrie screamed.
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"There is no denying it, wizard. She has the power of the sight. We canna keep her here, she needs to go home and find her fella." Magda was packing up several pieces of dried meat, cheese and bread, and filling two wineskins with well water. "I willna have her here cryin' for him when the seein' comes upon her, not when ye can help her find him."
Sand paced back and forth in the small kitchen. "I saw his funeral rites, Magda. I saw the coffin, I saw them place it in the ground. I have been to his gravestone myself! I'm not denying her celestial bloodline affords her some visions but this is preposterous, not to mention unhealthy."
Magda stopped and gave him a hard look. "Do ye love her, wizard? I mean truly love her, from here." She thumped her chest.
Sand nodded miserably.
"Well then do ye want this to lay between ye? The knowledge that the man she loves may be dyin', that ye didna believe her when it mattered the most. Do ye know what faith is, wizard?" The little dwarf touched his chest with a finger. "Its believing in something ye canna see, trusting when all the signs point elsewhere." She continued her frenetic activity, tying shut the packs and dumping them in Sand's arms.
"Dig up that coffin if ye must, lad. Do what ye have to do to assure yerself, and her. Only then can ye be free to love her with nothin' between ye. And if it doesna come to pass, that means it was never meant to, and ye must walk a different road. The wee lamb was right when she told ye to be true. Now go. Take her home before ye make this old dwarf weep."