Author's Note: And the story continues in chapter 2. This was a really fast update; I'm afraid I can't guarantee that updates will continue coming this quickly. I would love that, but I don't know that it will happen. I do have a bit of chapter 3 done already, though. I was going to hold off posting this chapter until Thursday, but since I finished it-actually, I wrote it on Friday, then ripped out the second half and completely rewrote it on Sunday-I decided I might as well post. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it. If anyone has any requests/suggestions/ideas for places to take this story, feel free to let me know, and I'll try my best to work it in.

Disclaimer: Nadina Nemiah is my original character. Everything else belongs to R.A. Salvatore.

Chapter 2

Acceptance

The next time Nadina awoke, it was a slow, easy, natural awakening. It was, however, reminiscent of the previous time she had woken from a sound sleep in that she was once again confused regarding her whereabouts. She was lying on her left side in a considerably more comfortable bed, but how she had gotten here, she could not remember. Slowly, she sat up, supporting herself on her left hand.

This was not the room she had occupied the last time she had been unconscious. This room was larger, and though the stone walls remained bare, it was a far cry from the sparsely furnished first room. The area was clearly lived in, but it was not filled with anything save necessities and few personal affects, nothing that identified the owner. It seemed the type of room that belonged to a person who did not rely on objects to remember the past, or did not easily form emotional attachments to anything.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress, a brush with the cold stone floor made her aware that she was barefoot. Looking around the room from her higher vantage point, she spotted her cloak and boots beside a table. Odd that she could see so well, but there was no evidence of any light sources. That was when she noticed the white lines around her left ring finger. Before, she had barely been able to see the lines. Now, they stood out boldly, as if they had gotten brighter, or…

Or her skin had gotten darker.

Startled, Nadina leaped to her feet, splaying her hands in front of her, sliding one sleeve up her arm. Frantic, she reached back and pulled a lock of her hair forward.

It was pure white, contrasting dramatically with the darkness of her hands.

Breathing deeply, Nadina simply stood staring at it until the ache in her feet from the cold floor grew too great to ignore, and she slowly sat back down on the bed, pulling her feet up. Clearly, Jarlaxle's potion had worked while she had been unconscious. Almost not daring for fear of the answer, she reached her hands up to the sides of her head, pushing the hair aside until she could trace her fingertips over the tops of her ears, exhaling in relief when she found they remained rounded. She was still human, despite her skin and hair color.

And that explained why she could see, even with the distinct lack of candles. Nadina grinned. She was no longer a prisoner in the dark. With eyesight, and the perfect disguise, she could easily slip through the drow ranks unnoticed and make her escape. It was almost too easy. Was Jarlaxle such a fool that he could not see that?

But what would she do on the surface?

Her heart sank again. Even if she could find her way out of this black tomb, the people on the surface would never believe her story. They would see her only as a drow temptress to disarm them, perhaps the vanguard of a larger attack. They would hunt her down and kill her, and she had no way of reversing the effects of the potion, or any idea of how long it would last.

Perhaps the mercenary leader was not as foolish as she had previously thought. He had managed to singlehandedly ensure that she would not try to escape, to make her completely dependent on the drow to survive. Her fate was tied to them in a hopelessly tangled knot. She was now completely at their mercy, subject to any whim. Despite her training, she knew that she could never survive the Underdark alone for long.

Nadina traced a fingertip over and over the lines on her skin as she thought, staring across the room at the far wall, but the mindless activity did nothing to help her find the answer. Every way she looked at the circumstances and every angle she considered, she was trapped, for whatever reason Jarlaxle wanted her here.

And while she had no idea what that reason might be, she doubted she would like it.

But she refused to give up that easily. Nadina rose from her seat on the edge of the bed, stepping quickly across the freezing floor on tiptoe to her boots and slipping into them. For good measure, she drew her cloak around her as well, relishing in the familiarity of her own clothing—the only things she now owned, she realized.

Partly to take her mind off such despairing thoughts and partly out of her own curiosity, Nadina began exploring the contents of the room. The first thing she did was find the door, though it was, unsurprisingly, locked. There was truly nothing in the room in the way of personal belongings, but nearly every storage space was neatly filled with books, and several sat on the desk, pages marked, amid neatly scribbled notes and papers. Nadina picked one up, but it was written in drow, and she could not read it. As she returned it to its' spot, she heard a noise outside the door, and she froze, straining her ears.

Someone was unlocking the door.

Without thinking, her training to fight back kicking in, Nadina whirled, grabbing the nearest item—a wide book with a two inch high binding—and pressed her back against the wall beside the door, heart hammering in her chest. She would have to time this perfectly, to catch the entering person off guard, but she would need a split second to judge his height…

Kimmuriel jerked back instinctively before he even registered the object flying at his face, feeling something graze his cheek as he did so. Raising a hand, he formed a barrier to protect himself, then shouldered the door to his quarters open.

His guest flew at him again, attacking, and Kimmuriel shot his other hand forward, a wave of invisible psionic energy catching her in the chest and throwing her back, where the weight of the item she held caused her to stumble and sprawl on her back.

Taking the moment's reprieve, Kimmuriel turned to shut and lock the door, standing sideways so that she would not catch him off guard again. His blast and the fall appeared to have knocked the breath out of her for a moment. The drow spared a glance for her, then stepped over her prone form and picked up the object she'd swung at his head—a book—and set it back on the table. He turned and opened a cabinet on the wall, removing a small container before twisting the top off and smoothing a fingertip of the paste over the bleeding cut on his cheek, then replacing it and facing her again.

The human sat up slowly as he worked, supporting her weight on her hands, watching him. Kimmuriel had not seen her since the potion had done its magic, and now he found her almost unrecognizable, the red of infrared vision coming from her eyes. He would have to tread a bit more warily around her in the future. Not that Kimmuriel considered her a threat, but he had not been the only surviving member of his house because of luck—it was caution and preparation that had kept him alive this long. Again, he wondered exactly what Jarlaxle wished to accomplish by this.

Looking away as he looked at her, Nadina climbed back to her feet, straightening her robes and shoulders. In truth, his gaze intimidated her, but she refused to show weakness before a member of such a merciless race. And the casual way he dealt with her attack infuriated her, for some reason. Nadina was not known for easily becoming angered, but perhaps the stress of the situation, combined with fear, uncertainty, and despair, pushed her to the breaking point.

Nadina dove for the book again, and came up swinging. The drow ducked under her strike, and she quickly twisted to prevent him from grabbing her, and launched the book at him. Kimmuriel turned to the side and caught it easily, setting it back on the table. He spun back to her to catch a pillow in his face, which, while it did not hurt him, confused, surprised and disoriented him. He tore the object away from his eyes and searched for her. The scrap of wood on stone from over his shoulder was the only warning he had, and Kimmuriel dove forward into a roll, feeling the chair breeze past his back. The maneuver left him crouched beside the bed. Keeping his head down, he didn't need to reach out with his mind to know where she was—the rattling of the door gave her position away.

Calmly, Kimmuriel rose to his full height, and she whirled to face him. The drow leaped, using his innate levitation abilities to launch himself over the bed. She moved as soon as he did, diving at the table. She jerked another chair up between them, denying him a grip on her, and dashed away, leaving him to drop the furniture to one side and scramble after her towards his desk.

Nadina's frantic hands found another book, and she turned and threw it without a second thought. The drow held out a hand, and it bounced harmlessly off the seemingly empty air. What sort of spell did he kept casting? she wondered in frustration, but had no time to dwell on it, turning to grab another book as the dark elf lunged towards her.

Nadina turned to hurl it and flinched, biting back a scream, not expecting her adversary to be so close to her.

Kimmuriel grabbed the book as she turned back to him and ripped it from her grasp, his patience used up, though outwardly his face remained blank, only his jaw taught. He dropped the book and seized both of her wrists in a bone crushing grip to prevent her from finding anymore possible weapons, but she continued thrashing frantically. His superior strength and height logically proved that fighting his hold would be in vain, but logic seemed to be the last thing on her mind at the moment.

"Stop this idiocy," he ordered, struggling to still her movements, but she didn't seem to hear him. With a swift manuver—perhaps slightly rougher than he intended, but only slightly—Kimmuriel shoved her back against the desk, pressing himself flush against her in an effort to keep her still. "Stop this," he growled a bit louder.

The human's eyes widened fearfully, and she bent over backwards, desperate to escape him. Kimmuriel's eyes widened slightly as the movement sent her hips into his, but he regained his composure quickly, drawing his mind away from such thoughts. He kept a firm grip on her wrists, holding her gaze with one that clearly told her she would not like to consequences if she continued to resist.

Nadina swallowed as his eyes pierced hers before looking away, the intensity in his gaze once again overwhelming her. With a deep breath through her nose, she forced herself to still her fighting, though her shoulders and frame were still tense, trembling with nervous energy.

Kimmuriel drew a deep breath as well, and took a miniscule step back, partly to reward her for complying, but mostly because with the close proximity of their bodies, her quivering was very noticeably felt throughout his lower regions.

"What were you trying to do?" he asked, once again having to force his thoughts back to the situation at hand.

Nadina looked up at his quiet voice—quiet, but in no way gentle or reassuring. It was the voice of a killer, calm, steady, cold.

"That should be obvious," Nadina answered, her fear provoking a defensive, snappy response.

"And where exactly did you plan on going had you gotten past me?" The lack of emotion in his tone was almost worse than if he had been ranting and raving at her. It unsettled and unnerved her.

"Anywhere away from you drow," she retorted.

"I fail to see the logic in that. You would not survive a day alone in the Underdark."

Nadina could find no answer for that, having already reached the same conclusion, so she kept her lips pressed together, though she looked everywhere but at him. After a moment of watching her, Kimmuriel gave an almost impeccable nod of satisfaction that she understood her delicate situation.

"Knowing that without us you will not survive, is it therefore logical to attack the person responsible for caring for you?"

Nadina went to glare at him, but her resolve dissolved as soon as their eyes met, and she looked to her right, studying the floor. Kimmuriel shifted himself backwards, then straightened her out of her backwards bend by pulling her wrists towards him. Nadina glanced up at him in surprise, then down at her hands, noticing how close together their bodies were for the first time. She swallowed again.

It was a strange thing to look at her hands, and his, and see no dramatic difference between the two. His were slightly larger, with slightly rougher palms and shorter nails, and certainly they possessed more strength, but with hers now the same ebony shade, she could not find them so foreign. His were slenderer than a human man's hands, for he was of elven heritage, but there was no denying their masculinity.

Suddenly she realized he was waiting for an answer.

"Perhaps I would prefer the fate that awaits me out there to being locked up with the creatures who stole me from everything I love for the rest of my life," she snapped with far more bravado and daring than she felt.

The look he gave her assured her that he could see right through her guise. "Or perhaps you need more persuasion," he replied. "Therefore, I assure you that if you try to escape again, the people of your city will suffer the consequences."

Nadina pursed her lips as she registered his words. Jarlaxle was the leader of the mercenary band, and technically only he could order such a thing—but she had no way of knowing if this was his rule, or if Kimmuriel had enough power within the band to make such a thing reality.

"I see," she murmured quietly, bowing her head in defeat. She could not take the risk, either way. The guilt would haunt her for the rest of her life.

To her surprise, the drow loosened his hold on her wrists, then surrendered them back to her, though he didn't move away. She drew her hands to her chest, rubbing her wrists tentatively. Almost if he was daring her to try something, the drow slowly took a step back, then stepped to her right, up to his desk. She turned with him, watching as he straightened the objects she had upset in her quest for a weapon, slowly relaxing as it seemed he was content that he had made his point. He glanced at her as she leaned a hip on the desk, then returned to his tidying. The done, he opened a book and began paging through it. Without his eyes on her, Nadina found herself able to look over his figure, side on.

She had already known he was taller than her despite her own advantageous height, but now she realized that he was only a half a head taller than her. It was simply his stature and the way he carried himself that made him seem larger, more intimidating. Despite the loose clothes and cloak he wore, it was obvious that his form was slender and slim, but in no way feminine, simply lithe and powerful. The profile of his face captured her. It wasn't that he was overly handsome—though she would admit that he was attractive—but the sharp, exoticness of his chiseled features were like nothing she had ever seen before.

Nadina pulled her eyes away, looking down and tracing a finger over the white lines on her skin again—an action quickly turning into a nervous habit, she noticed with a wince. She folded her hands together in an attempt to prevent herself from doing so unconsciously. A movement drew her eyes back up to the drow, who had closed the book and turned to look at her again.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. The words prompted a shocked start from her, though his tone of voice was the same as before. He was not offering out of the kindness of his heart, but out of a responsibility to keep her alive, the way a pet or beast of burden was fed. Regardless, she nodded, having not realized how hungry she was until he asked.

"Stay here," the drow instructed, a firm note in his voice, "and I'll return soon." Without another word or gesture, Kimmuriel crossed back to the door and opened it, exiting smoothly before closing it behind him. Nadina heard the lock turn, and she was alone again, staring at the door. She remained there for a few moments, then, looking around, felt her face heat slightly as she suddenly noticed the condition of the room, embarrassed that she had allowed herself to react so violently. Such a loss of control was unusual for her.

Then again, this entire situation was unusual.

More for something to do than out of respect for the room's owner, Nadina set about righting the living space, returning the chairs and books and other articles she had knocked over to their proper places. That done, she returned to the table and seated herself in a chair facing the door.

It was almost an hour before Kimmuriel returned again, but she knew better than to try the same attack twice. He would be expecting it, and she could not hazard retribution on her city. She was still sitting in the chair, arms wrapped around her knees, when she felt a strange tingle in the back of her head that caused her to sit up. It was promptly forgotten as she heard the lock turning and the door opened. Nadina stood up, but remained where she was as the dark elf entered and closed the door, easily balancing a book and plate of food with an effortless she had to admire. He came towards her, setting the book and plate on the table. With a glance at her, he slid the plate towards the chair she had been sitting in, then stepped around her and over to his desk, where he sat down himself.

Nadina watched him, then reseated herself and surveyed the food. While it appeared different than her accustomed fare, she chose to ignore questioning the contents of her meal and simply satisfy her hunger. The smells filling her nose argued against delaying consuming the meal anyway.

Her hands going through the thoughtless actions of feeding herself, Nadina took a moment to wonder what was happening on the surface. Would they try to find her? She hoped not, any battle between drow and humans would result only in a massacre—and it would not be drow bodies littering the caverns.

It seemed like an eternity had passed since she had found herself in the stone room she had woken up in that—morning? How did one tell time down here, without the sun? How many days had already passed while she was buried in this black tomb? Unbidden, tears rose in her eyes, but she blinked them away before any could fall. The unhappy thought caused her to set her food down, however, and she slid the plate away from her.

A movement drew her attention, and she turned to find Kimmuriel had removed his cloak, scant armor, and was stepping out of his boots, leaving him only in a loose shirt and trousers. She blinked, previous thoughts fading from her mind. The drow twisted to look at her.

"Come here."

Confused and wary, Nadina did as instructed, rising and slowly stepping over to where he stood. He looked her up and down. "Is that how you intend to sleep?"

Nadina looked down at herself, then stepped back, turning away from him nervously as she unbuckled her cloak and draped it over the back of a chair. Removing her belt, Nadina tugged the tunic she wore over her shirt over her head and set it with her cloak. She stepped out of her boots, trying to hide the discomfort caused from the cold floors as she faced him again.

She spoke to break the heavy silence. "I'll not share a bed with you."

"Then where do you propose to sleep?"

Nadina looked around. She had no qualms about sleeping on the floor—she had done so before—but she doubted her cloak, being a thinner summer one, would ward off the cold. The drow stepped towards her, and Nadina jerked back.

"What are you doing?" she demanded apprehensively.

"Do you truly think I am going to leave you unattended while I rest?" he inquired. "Think of your city."

Nadina backed further away from him, her back pressing against the table, but his words stopped her from hurrying around it. Kimmuriel held his position for a moment, then he advanced. "You will make your stay here much more pleasurable for both of us if you listen to what I say," he told her calmly in that quiet voice. Nadina turned her face to the right, once again unnerved and intimidated by the strength of his gaze. She watched his feet move closer out of the corner of her eye, and nimble fingers were laid across her forehead. She leaned away, not in an attempt to escape, but simply to delay the inevitable.

"I'll wake you in the morning," were the last words she heard.

XXXXX

Kimmuriel caught the human by her shoulders as he used his psionics to knock her unconscious, preventing her limp form from collapsing to the floor. He stood there for a moment, studying her still profile. Now that her human paleness had been replaced with the inkiness of his own drow ancestry, it was easier for him to admire the delicate, feminine features of her face. The drow studied her closely, then pulled her to him and lifted the human in the fashion he had before, carrying her to the bed and placing her in it. She was what he had expected from a human, but she was not one to let emotions govern her, as he had known even some dark elves to do. She reasoned things out, she calculated odds, she thought things through, she considered all angles. He could respect that. Wits were needed to survive the Underdark as much as brawns were. He looked down at her before moving to the bed's other side and lying down himself, rolling onto his back. It wasn't long before he slept too.