Chapter 3: Revelations

Sarevok went very still. He might have even stopped breathing. His eyes, though, began to glow, brighter than Ilyrana had seen since Baldur's Gate.

She didn't react to the storm of fury that was obviously building as a result of her question. Not outwardly, anyway. Inside, her anxiety ratcheted up even higher. She didn't really know what she had expected his reaction to be. A mocking laugh followed by the answer she thought she already knew, maybe. Definitely not this, however.

Why the anger?

"That is your question?" He snarled. "You dare-"

"Just give me an answer. It should be simple."

For a second, Ilyrana saw a flash of uncertainty on his face… and something else. It had almost looked like fear. The mask of arrogance and rage dropped back into place before she could decipher that glimpse of what was underneath.

"I don't know why you would waste your question when you already know the answer," he said, leaning forward again and resting his hands back on the desk, pinning her with his glare. His eyes had dimmed, but the glow wasn't fully gone. His rage was still simmering.

"I got the memories back at the same moment you did," he hissed. "When I was standing above you, while you were bleeding out at my feet, with my sword poised to send you to your beloved Gorion."

Sarevok's voice rose with each word, biting out the last with venom.

The threads of the tapestry of assumptions began to unravel. The warp of what if and the weft of maybe untangling at his words. Ilyrana's heart was thundering now, and she couldn't seem to get enough air.

For the first time, in a long time, Sarevok's deep voice lost some of its self-assurance.

"You didn't get them back at the same time I did," he said slowly, watching her unexpected reaction.

Ilyrana's eyes were wide, trying to keep the sudden tears from falling. She felt that hollow ache in her chest like before, an echo of the sorrow, and her arms tightened around her stomach, as if she were trying to hold herself together. Hold the threads of herself intact before it all came undone, leaving her naked against the onslaught of memories of their battle and of their childhood.

"When did you think I had remembered them?"

"Years before!" Ilyrana screamed, shoving off the wall to pace, one traitorous tear escaping down her cheek. "It made sense! Why else would you have hated Gorion that deeply? And why go to the lengths you did to get rid of me, compared to the other bhaalspawn you murdered?"

Sarevok's face was completely emotionless, giving away nothing. His breathing, though, was quicker than it should be, and his shoulders were taught beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He lowered his head, hands still planted on the desk, and spoke without looking at her.

"When, then, did your memories come back to you?"

Ilyrana stopped pacing, her back to him. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair before curling her arms around her stomach again. Another tear slid down her face.

"Ilyrana."

She shouldn't have asked. Why did she have to know? Why was this so important to her? It was so long ago, when they were children, and they weren't the same as they were then. Their promises, made in innocence, didn't count for anything now. Too much blood had been spilled between them.

"Rana!"

More tears tracked down Ilyrana's cheeks, and she had to bite back a sob as the sound of her nickname, in his voice, rang loudly through the room. She turned around to face him.

"I got the memories back about fifteen seconds after you did," she whispered. "Just after I put that katana through your heart. As I watched you die."

Almost all of Ilyrana's strength was spent. Exhaustion made her entire body tremble with each breath drawn, as if the very act of breathing took too much energy. And she needed more and more air to fight the cold creeping through her muscles. It wasn't long now. If he didn't finish her off, the massive wound in her side would do it. She had lost so much blood. She had been so close to avoiding his sword. Had almost missed being struck at all, as only the very end of his lethal blade had scored her. Days spent pursuing him to this temple beneath the city, though, and the hour or so that their fight had dragged on, had taken their toll.

Desperation was what urged her to keep crawling towards one of her short swords. It was mere feet away, now. Her knees slipped in the blood that saturated the stone floor. Her blood. If she could get to her sword, and if she could stand, then at least she could go down fighting.

That last shred of hope died as she watched him lazily flick her sword away with a plated boot. Her arms began to give out, she couldn't really feel them anymore. The numbing cold, an effect of the blood loss, was spreading throughout her body, sapping the last of her strength and will.

Ilyrana collapsed onto her unwounded side, and looked up into Sarevok's face as he brought his sword up, blade pointed down. It was over. She almost felt relieved. She was so tired, and she couldn't breathe, but, mercifully, she didn't feel much pain at this point. She could hear Imoen screaming her name, it sounded so far away. None of her companions, those still alive, anyway, would reach them in time to stop what was about to happen.

"Finish it," she whispered hoarsely.

He didn't, though. Instead, he slowly lowered his sword, his golden eyes, no longer glowing, were wide with shock as he stared down at her. What was happening? Why wasn't he finishing the kill? It mattered little, she supposed, she was almost gone anyway.

"Ilyrana!"

Ilyrana turned her head and saw, in the shadow of one of the massive columns of the temple, a figure. Her vision blurred, and she had to blink a few times, but, eventually, she could focus enough to make out Tamoko. Time seemed to slow as Sarevok's former lover knelt, placed her katana on the ground, and sent it skimming across the floor towards her.

She glanced up at Sarevok. His sword now hung loosely at his side, and his eyes were a kaleidoscope of confusion, pain, and anger. None of that mattered. Reaching out, she caught Tamoko's blade. The worn leather of the handle, and the weapon's weight in her grip, gave Ilyrana one last surge of desperate strength. Pushing off the ground, she spun the katana, wrapped both hands around the handle, and struck.

It took a few seconds for both of them to realize that she had buried the sword, almost to the hilt, under the plate armor protecting his torso. Her burst of adrenaline faded, and she fell heavily to her knees, then back onto her side. Sarevok collapsed a few feet away. She looked at him, and this time, when their eyes met, for the final time, she remembered. Everything.

She was told some time afterwards, by Imoen, that, after Sarevok fell, Ilyrana had started screaming. When Jaheira got to her and immediately begun the healing to try and save her, she had begged the druid to let her die. She had cried and kept reaching towards the spot where he had fallen and turned to dust. None of them knew why she had acted that way. They would end up attributing it to the delirium of utter exhaustion, blood loss, and the overall trauma of the last few months.

Looking back, Ilyrana realized how foolish she had been to believe he had gotten his memories back years before that. Those final moments, though, from the time she was cut down, to the second she lost consciousness during Jahiera's healing, had been a vague blur up until now. She didn't know why the puzzle piece slid into place at this moment, maybe her subconscious was finally ready to face the truth of what had happened that day.

"Now, tell me why you hadn't healed almost a month after that fight."

Ilyrana turned away and looked out at the night sky through the far window. It was jarring, seeing that so little time had passed since he had entered her room, and turned her world upside down. She felt as if she'd aged years in the span of an hour.

"Answer me."

She didn't want to. Didn't want to continue this conversation. She wanted to forget this night had ever happened, just as she had forgotten, either naturally or by magic, so much of her past. At every point in time that Sarevok had been in her life, there had been pain. She should have never allowed him to live again. Should have known that this time would be no different.

"Ilyrana!"

She flinched at the volume of his voice. Why did he care about this so much? He was almost always a step ahead of her, he should have reasoned out the answer by now.

"You already kn-"

"ANSWER ME!"

She spun back around, teeth bared in fury, eyes blazing. She took a step back after she saw that he had come around the desk, was now only standing a few feet away. What was wrong with her?! Not only had she not heard him move, but she'd had her back to him twice now. She had to crane her neck back a little to look him in the eyes. He looked furious, but his eyes were barely glowing. His hands were clenched into fists.

Ilyrana suddenly stopped caring about what he would think, or whatever cutting remark he would make. She wanted this to be over.

"I hadn't healed, because I was dying," she bit out, surprised to feel tears in her eyes again. "Of sorrow. Because, watching you die, as I remembered the first several years of my life, and you, who was the only good part of that time, made me want to die as well."

"Why the fuck did you not tell me any of this," Sarevok whispered, barely containing his rage. "I've been alive for months-"

"How in the name of Hell was I supposed to know when you got the memories back?!"

"Why else would I have stopped from killing you?!" He roared back.

"In case you've forgotten, I was dying when that happened! I can't remember exactly what and how things happened. Especially when I spent the next month delirious from hovering on the brink of death!"

"Then why did you even leave Baldur's Gate if you weren't healed?"

Everything was happening too fast. Too much information to process. Sarevok began to pace, never taking his eyes off her. She eased back another step, trying to put more distance between them. When he was still, it was fairly easy to ignore just how big the man was. In motion, however, that was impossible.

"The other Grand Dukes figured out, or were told, that I was a Bhaalspawn, too. They began to think that we were fighting for control of the city and it's army, that I wasn't there to stop the war, but be the one to steer it rather than you. It wasn't safe to stay anymore."

"And, as a result, you were too weak to avoid getting captured by Irenicus," Sarevok finished.

Ilyrana looked away. She didn't want to be reminded that he had seen what came after that. It wasn't shame, exactly. Maybe it was pride. Either way, she didn't like him, or anyone, knowing about it.

"You should have told me, Ilyrana," He continued, his voice now sounding weary, and still angry.

"What does it matter," she replied, still not looking at him. "What would it have mattered?"

He was silent for a moment, long enough for her to turn her gaze back to him, to watch him take a slow step toward her, getting just close enough that she couldn't turn away again.

"It would have mattered. It does still matter."

There was a banging on the door to her room, and the sudden explosion of sound after the pregnant silence that followed what Sarevok had said made Ilyrana jump.

Sarevok turned, his hand reaching for the sword that wasn't there, because he had left it back in his room.

"Rana, there's a large mercenary company heading this way from the west, just over a mile out," Valygar said from the other side of the door.

It took her a moment to remember that he was one of the ones on guard duty tonight, patrolling and scouting the area around the inn they were staying in.

"Come in."

Valygar opened the door, stepped inside, and stopped when he saw Sarevok. The ranger looked at the two of them, and, to his credit, managed not to look at all surprised or concerned, but then, not much ruffled the man. It was one of the many reasons Ilyrana liked having him in her group. He also got along with Sarevok far better than most of the others did. Not surprising, since he detested magic, and those who wielded it, and Sarevok was no mage.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's too many of them for us to deal with. They have about fifty mounted fighters, two dozen wizards, as far as i can tell, and at least another fifty foot soldiers."

"Could you see their banners?" Sarevok asked.

"Yep. They're the ones from Amkethran."

"Balthazar," Ilyrana growled. "Alright, wake the others. Tell them to be ready to leave in ten minutes. We'll keep pushing east, towards the mountains."

"Where both Sendai and Abazigal are hiding with their respective armies," Sarevok retorted.

"Do you have a better idea?" Ilyrana snapped. "Valygar, tell the others to meet downstairs when they're ready."

The ranger nodded, and backed out of the room. Ilyrana started to move past Sarevok to begin gathering up her belongings, but was stopped when he put an arm out in front of her. She didn't look up at him. She wanted to get as far away from him as she could, to pretend she had learned nothing tonight, to go back to the familiar habit of hating him.

She stifled a gasp when she felt his calloused fingers under her chin, turning her head up to look at him. It was the closest they'd been to each other, since they were children, without trying to kill one another. Ilyrana, still reeling from the night's revelations, and feeling raw after...well, feeling so much, couldn't help but notice just how small she was compared to him. And even being uncharacteristically gentle, she could feel the strength in his hand.

"This isn't over," Sarevok murmured. He stared down at her for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something more, before dropping his hand, turning, and leaving her to pack.