Chapter 20: The Ties that Bind
*Explicit Content Warning*
Ilyrana
Throwing down another empty quiver, Rana picked up a fresh one, her last, she noted. Clipping it onto her belt so that it hung from her right hip, she resumed firing at the tree stump behind her home. The dead wood was now peppered with too many shafts to count.
Her arm burned, and her back ached, but it was a welcome discomfort, a familiar one. It made thinking difficult, which is why she was out here, wasting arrows.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rook pounce on some hoppy bug in the grass, then proceed to bat at it with his paw until it jumped away, giving him an excuse to leap after it.
An arrow with striped brown fletching suddenly joined the mass of black feathered projectiles in the stump. Rana turned her head and saw Valygar give her a small smile as he moved up beside her, bow in hand.
"I've been looking for you."
"Is something wrong?"
"Not with me, no."
"I'm fine."
Valygar snorted and shook his head, firing off another arrow in tandem with her.
"Because you didn't immediately ask if something was wrong with someone else, and automatically assumed I was referring to you, you obviously aren't 'fine'. Haer'Dalis mentioned something about Sarevok and you getting into it yesterday. He couldn't stop laughing long enough to give me a satisfactory explanation, though, so I'm gonna assume it wasn't anything serious."
"Haer'Dalis can keep his big mouth shut if he doesn't want me sewing it closed in the middle of the night. Be kinda hard to sing Imoen love sonnets then."
"If anyone else just said that, I would assume they were jealous of Imoen."
Rana lowered her bow, arrow still knocked, and glared at her friend.
"I am not jealous that she has a bard supplying her with background music everywhere she goes. Silence trumps warbling every day."
"But because it's you," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say it's Haer'Dalis you're jealous of."
"Yeah, one sibling isn't enough for me, I've decided to complicate my life even further and go after my sister, too."
"You know that's not what I mean, Rana. You're not used to having to share Imoen with someone else. You've always spent as much time as you want with her, with no one to challenge that. Now, she's always with the bard… and you can't just go to her like before when you want to distract yourself from whatever's going on in your head."
"You should have been a paladin."
"Hah! No thanks. I'll leave the righteous judgements to those who can do so without being hypocritical. But, Rana, it doesn't take a paladin to see what's going on."
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Rana relaxed her stance and looked down at the gleaming Darkfire bow, still marvelling at its beauty. This was the first time she'd been able to use it, and it was every bit as powerful and smooth as she imagined it would be.
"So… do you wanna talk about it or keep deflecting?"
Rana clicked her tongue at Rook and the tiny kitten bounded toward her. Reaching down, she scooped him up with one hand and held him close, finding solace in the rumbling of his purrs.
"Just before leaving Baldur's Gate, I found Sarevok's stash of gold and, naturally, I took it. He found out about it yesterday."
"Naturally. How much was it?"
"A lot. Until I can direct him to where it's now hidden, or take him there myself, he's taken over my half of this property as collateral."
Valygar rubbed a hand across his mouth to hide his amusement.
"I told you one day you were going to steal yourself into a hole you wouldn't be able to easily climb your way out of."
"Yeah, well, I'm not that upset. He's only doing this as a way to hold something over my head. Most likely, he needed to feel in control again after getting me Rook, I'm sure doing something sweet taxed him to the point he felt he needed to level it out, so I'll let it be for now."
She decided it would be best not to mention Sarevok's subtle claim on her bedroom. He'd "graciously allowed" her to keep her room, but there had been something in his voice that suggested it wasn't solely hers now. As if he'd gotten a foot in the door, so to speak, and she should keep it locked if she didn't want him exercising his newly acquired right to invade her sanctuary. The problem was that Rana wasn't entirely sure if she minded that or not. Which annoyed her.
"I figured that's how you got him," Valygar grinned, scratching the kitten behind the ears until it bit at him. "Well, if it doesn't bother you that much, why are you out here killing that poor tree stump?"
Because why does it matter if he now owns my half of this place when we're stuck together for an eternity anyway? Why are we stuck together for eternity, you ask? Because I'm an idiot with terrible impulse control. Because I agreed to give him a small part of my elven soul without considering the very possible and life altering ramifications. Because I expected him to only take the agreed upon tiny portion. Because he's always been such a trustworthy guy, so why would he try and take more?
"Just a lot on my mind. I'm ready to start looking for the rest of the Five, but I think it might be better if we just wait on reinforcements. Which could take weeks."
"We can keep broadening our scouting range in the meantime. By the time the others get here, we should know where the other bhaalspawn are at, and hopefully an idea of their forces, too. I know it's marked on that map, but I think we should disregard it for the most part. For all we know, there's more than just Sendai and Abazigal hiding in these mountains."
"And if none of them show up, then what?"
"Well, who all did you write?"
"Almost all of my former companions. Some who helped us with Irenicus, and a few who were with me back at the Sword Coast."
"You're not gonna say names are you?"
"Nope. It's a surprise. I want everyone on a level playing field once we bring in more people. I figure if I announce who all may be coming to join us, some of you mainstays will bail on me."
"Oh great, Rana, that's not reassuring at all."
"It wasn't meant to be," she replied sweetly.
"At least tell me what the odds are that a brawl might immediately break out once they arrive. You mentioned some from the Sword Coast, any of them going to be upset about Sarevok?"
"Almost for a certainty. To both questions."
Valygar sighed.
"Guess I'll savor the boredom and monotony of this part of our quest while it lasts."
"Wise decision."
As the sun began to slowly sink behind the trees, and the shadows grew longer, Rana and Valygar gathered up their now empty quivers and headed inside for dinner.
Mezoar had prepared yet another culinary masterpiece, judging by the aroma that hit them as they entered her home, the "Rookery", a moniker that still rankled, causing Valygar to grumble about lethargy and his softening midsection. When Rana coyly suggested he get more exercise with Jaheira, the ranger scowled at her, cheeks reddening in embarrassment, and stomped to his chair at the table.
This evening's supper consisted of medallions of venison that had marinated in wine sauce all day, then briefly seared over an open flame until they were nearly charred on the outside, but rare in the middle. Alongside that were potatoes whipped until they were fluffy, sweetened with cream and butter, and liberally sprinkled with rosemary. Green beans sauteed with red onions, bacon, and button mushrooms were also served, as well as crusty bread to soak up the juices from the venison.
Rana looked at her empty plate, feeling a little dazed by how much she'd eaten. Rook, who had finished his own portion long before she did, sluggishly lapped her plate clean, too full to move without waddling. He looked like he had swallowed an orange.
As unaccustomed as she was to eating this much, she had to admit she could feel herself gaining strength again. Mezoar's cooking made it deceptively easy to keep wolfing it down without realizing how much had been consumed until either the food was all gone or you suddenly felt like you would burst from another forkful. It reminded her of Winthrop's cooking back in Candlekeep, when she and Imoen seemed to compete in how fast they could clear out his larders.
When she was a child back in the Bhaal cult, food had been scarce, which is probably why, at Candlekeep, she'd eaten so much so quickly and hoarded anything she couldn't finish. Subconsciously she must have remembered what it was like to go days between whatever scraps she could get ahold of. As an adult, her mind made it too difficult to maintain an appetite, or to keep food down. At least, it used to.
Rook, too, was benefiting from the meals, as he seemed to be growing practically right in front of her.
While Chauntia cleared away the dishes and set out cups of coffee, Rana's was already made to her liking which still made her smile, Keldorn rose from his seat at the far end of the table and began opening up a dialogue on what would be on the agenda over the coming days.
Truthfully, she had little interest in this meeting. They couldn't go anywhere; not until her other companions arrived, and the dropping temperature was beginning to become a problem for herself, Viconia, and Jaheira, as well. Elves, and those who are half elven, don't have body hair, except for what's on their heads. They were more easily susceptible to hypothermia and frostbite. It wasn't quite that cold yet, but it would be soon. Haer'Dalis was the exception to this because of his demonic blood.
Autumn had only just begun, but this close to the mountains, they would feel the wrath of winter far before her time came.
As the others began moving seats, getting up to pace, and basically settle in for a lengthy discussion, Rana's mind wandered. She knew she should be paying attention, but she just couldn't seem to keep herself focused on what was being said. Sipping her coffee, she leaned back in her chair, curling her legs beneath her, and gently stroked Rook's fur as he sprawled across her lap and began to snore.
"I've heard talk of a ranger outpost…"
"Six children missing in half as many months…"
"No snow yet, so maybe in a fortnight we'll see some familiar faces…"
"Highharvesttide celebration begins tomorrow…"
"The Temple of Helm requires my services still…"
"He's getting fat," this from Sarevok as he took the chair Imoen had vacated on her right when the girl got up to sit on the Bard's lap.
Rana looked down at Rook, then up at the man with a raised eyebrow.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Reaching out to scratch behind the kitten's ears, Sarevok gave her a look.
"You're spoiling him rotten."
"And this is wrong because…?"
"He's going to be completely useless if you don't start refraining from giving him everything he wants."
"Oh. Right. I forgot he was supposed to be our next frontline fighter. Rather than, ya know, a pet."
"I just don't understand why you would want such a worthless creature."
"He's cute and he cuddles with me. What's so hard to understand?"
"You don't need a cat for those things."
"Perhaps not, but Rook won't try to change me. He's happy with the way I am. Finally feeling like I'm enough for someone, even a cat, is nice beyond words."
He snorted and didn't reply, obviously not wanting to argue about that right now. She narrowed her eyes at him, slightly irritated that he wasn't predictably rising to the bait to argue ascension with her.
"Rana, you feel up to going to the outpost outside of town with me tomorrow and speaking to the rangers there?" Valygar asked her from up the table.
"No. It's cold."
"Godchild, are you not concerned about the missing children?" Jaheira questioned, her tone heavy with disapproval.
"Of course I am, but my presence may actually be a problem. They'll have likely dealt with, or seen, bhaalspawn by now. Possibly even the drow or dragon's armies. If I show up there asking questions, they might refuse to answer out of fear of bringing the war to Tor Niedrig."
Jaheira pursed her lips, probably wanting to use Rana's explanation as an illustration of her declining morality, but her excuse was sound, and they both knew it.
"You could go with him, Jaheira," Rana pointed out.
"If you were paying attention, you would know that I've already said I would be investigating around the closed up mines."
"Watch out for kobolds," Sarevok drawled.
Jaheira went rigid in her chair. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, he returned her stare, smirking a little at her reaction to his reminder of the Nashkel mines. Of the kobolds that had overrun it under the command of Mulahey, one of his underlings.
The druid shifted her focus to Rana, as if expecting her to reprimand the Deathbringer for his brazen comment. Rana yawned.
"Perhaps it is you who should watch out, Sarevok."
"From what? You? Surely you jest."
"All right you two, that's quite enough," Keldorn interjected wearily before Jaheira could respond. "Sarevok, there was a commotion a few days prior that has come to my attention. A small mercenary party of seven men were found dead at an archery range near the center of town. One was cut in two, another had been impaled through the chest, and the rest were slain by arrows. Arrows with black feather fletching."
All eyes that had been on Sarevok turned to Rana, then back to him, then again to her.
"Your point, paladin?"
"Do you know anything about that? Either of you?"
Rana rolled her eyes and slouched back further in her chair, throwing one leg up to dangle across the corner of the table before pinning Keldorn with a bored look.
"Aye. We killed them."
"Why?"
"Why not?" Sarevok asked.
"They attacked me," Rana replied at the same time.
"Why?"
"Racism?"
"Can you take anything seriously?!" Jaheira demanded.
"I refused the Captain's advances and he and his minions took offense. I defended myself. Sarevok showed up and helped. A little."
"A little?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her, which she ignored.
"So neither of you instigated it?" Keldorn asked.
Rana shook her head. Sarevok bit back a yawn.
"Why did you not inform us?" The druid all but yelled.
"Is she to report everything to you, Harper?"
"Something like this, yes!"
"Hey guys, we killed a bunch of lecherous assholes-"
"Enough!" Keldorn bellowed, as those in the room either laughed or started to voice their displeasure at Rana's flippant attitude.
"There was also a report of a woman gone missing," the paladin continued, his voice hard with irritation. "The proprietor of the Sawtooth Inn, where she was staying, says he last saw her enter her room, but did not see her leave. When he went to collect her gold for another rented night, he found the door still locked. When he went in, there was no sign of struggle, and her belongings were still there. Along with a pile of ash just inside the room."
"A bhaalspawn?" Valygar pondered aloud.
Rana felt a chill when she noticed Jaheira still staring at her from across the table. The other woman's eyes had narrowed in suspicion as Keldorn described the bhaalspawn she had murdered.
There had been no point in denying being responsible for the death of those mercenaries. While black feathers were commonly used for fletching, her group would immediately recognize them as hers. Not to mention the sudden appearance of her new bow. Her deceased half-sister, however, was no one's business but her own.
"Do you know anything about this as well, Ilyrana?" Jaheira asked. "Sarevok?"
"Am I to be incriminated for every disappearance and death in this town?" The Deathbringer asked.
"What he said," Rana quipped.
"Well, seeing as the two of you already went on one killing spree, I don't see why taking the life of one of your kin would give you pause."
"Right," Sarevok sneered. "Because killing bhaalspawn is definitely not why we're even here in the first place."
"So you admit to killing this woman?"
"No. I did not kill her."
"Ilyrana?"
All eyes focused on her. It was her sister's anxious expression, and Sarevok's curious one, that bothered her the most.
"Nope. There are other bhaalspawn here in town, though. If this woman was one of the Children, then it's likely it was one of the others who got to her."
"How many others?" Valygar asked.
"It's hard to pin down a number. When I sense them, it's sort of like the feeling that you've forgotten something, or someone's name is just on the tip of your tongue. If I can just get to where that feeling is originating from, I'll remember, ya know? If I had to guess, I would say there's maybe… four points here in town where that feeling is coming from."
"Are they strong? That is, can you tell if they're empowered by the taint like you are, or are they like Imoen?" Viconia inquired.
"No one's like me, Viconia."
"Thank Shar for small mercies."
"They're weaker. They barely register as a threat."
"It's worth keeping an eye on, but for now, we have more to concern ourselves with," Keldorn sighed, looking down at the map of the outlying areas that he'd rolled out on the table.
As everyone's attention was drawn back to scouting, digging up the town's secrets, and bickering for the sake of bickering, Rana tried to will herself to relax. A difficult feat when Jaheira was still sending her suspicious glances, Anomen kept glaring at Sarevok for sitting so close to her, and Imoen seemed to be doing a combination of those two things.
"Why didn't you tell me about that bhaalspawn?" Sarevok whispered after awhile. "I assume it happened the same day as those mercenaries?"
"Aye, just before," she whispered back, keeping her gaze trained on Keldorn at the opposite end of the table while she spoke. "I don't know why I did it."
"You really are a terrible liar, little one."
"I'm not lying!" She hissed. "I felt her, followed her, and killed her. I was in a bad mood. I guess I needed an outlet."
"That rings with a bit more truth. I'm glad you vented your rancor on her rather than yourself this time. Though, I wonder if there's a bit more to it than that. Did you enjoy it?"
"No."
"Come now, Rana, you know you can tell me."
"Why does it matter?"
"It doesn't really. I just want to hear you say it."
"In that case, go fuck yourself."
Sarevok's sudden laugh quieted the room as everyone turned and looked at the two of them. Rana stared innocently back, ignoring the tingle in her elbow as she longed to drive it into the man's ribs to shut him up.
"As I was saying…" Keldorn continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.
"How in the Nine Hells can you listen to this?" Sarevok muttered as the group went back to their discussion.
The dining room was growing louder as some of her companions began trying to talk over others, and while a few were also holding their own off-topic conversations amongst themselves.
"It's easy. I don't."
"You are their leader."
"Am I? I'm happy someone remembers. Look, I've learned that the better and more skilled my group is, the more opinions they seem to have, and the louder they want to express them. They don't like sitting around, so they wanna yell about getting things done so that they feel like something is getting accomplished even though it clearly isn't. I'll pretend to listen, break up any fights, eavesdrop on the more interesting side convos, and that's about it. It's already been decided we're not moving until reinforcements arrive, so that's about all I can do."
"Merp!"
They both looked down at Rook, who had stretched out on his belly, one paw reaching out to bat at Sarevok's leg. The kitten continued until Sarevok sighed and began to pet him.
"The clerics here are very grateful for my assistance and I feel they will benefit from my continued presence…"
"I can't decide which would be more satisfying, choking him to death with my bare hands or peeling his skin off with a paring knife," Sarevok whispered as if to himself.
Rana gave him a sidelong glance.
"That's disturbing," she murmured back.
"Is it? I think you meant to say 'enticing' or perhaps 'permissible'."
Rana pursed her lips to keep from laughing.
"We should be focusing on finding the lost children. I believe by doing so, we can restore the balance of this town. I can't be the only one who senses the wrongness here."
"I can't begin to tell you how often I've fantasized of ripping her tongue out," he sighed, staring almost longingly at Jaheira.
"Stop it!" Rana hissed, kicking his leg beneath the table for emphasis, her face starting to hurt from the effort of fighting back her amusement.
"Why? Are my reveries giving you ideas? Are you concerned you might enjoy watching me carry them out?"
"If I am, it's only because I'm tired and wanna go to bed. Not because I want to see you torture my friends."
"Hmm. I'm not sure I believe that."
Anomen looked over at them, trying to catch Rana's attention. Maybe hoping she'd insist he stay at the house rather than return to the Temple of Helm.
By all means, don't let me keep you from your ego-stroking duties, Sir Anomen.
Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the noise, the glances, and Sarevok's gory monologue.
It didn't do much good.
As the meeting drew on, it became harder and harder to keep a straight face while the Deathbringer whispered about the varied and colorful ways he longed to torture certain members of her company. None of which should be amusing, but Rana was becoming more annoyed by the length and volume of what she considered to be a rather unnecessary waste of an evening.
"At which point I would carve out the-"
"Sarevok," she sighed after a particularly macabre exhortation. "You do realize how unrealistic these little scenarios you've created are, right? I mean, I get how appealing they might sound, but you know I wouldn't just stand by and allow it."
"Hmph. These are my fantasies so I'll do what I please in them. As will you. And trust me, little one, I have you doing a lot of things, and none of them involve standing."
Rana looked up at the ceiling, trying to pretend she hadn't just heard him say that. A small, insane part of her wanted to ask what sort of things she was doing then. The larger, more rational part of her knew that finding out wouldn't do her any good. At all.
Chauntia appeared to pour more coffee, prompting Keldorn to inquire about the time. Upon hearing their little meeting had already drug on for nearly two hours, and with little to show for it, the paladin decided to call it a night. Much to the relief of Rana.
With a groan she pushed to her feet, cradling a passed out Rook in her arms, and rolling her right shoulder as it had tightened up after burning through several quivers earlier. Sarevok hadn't moved from his chair, hadn't hardly moved at all, except his eyes stayed fixed on her.
"What?" She asked quietly, massaging her shoulder.
He shook his head and said nothing. His gaze flicked to the others as they moved about the room, either lingering to talk or heading for bed. When he looked back at her, she felt his half of their soul brush against hers. Before she could get angry that he would dare do that again while her companions were all so close, he withdrew and rose to his feet. Without a word he walked away, leaving her confused and a little irritated at his behavior.
"Something wrong, sis?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just tired."
"I'll bet. It sounds like you've been pretty busy lately."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Why didn't you tell me you were attacked in the middle of town?"
"Because it was dealt with and I figured the less people who knew about it the better, in case the guards came sniffing around."
"Oh. So it was just gonna be you and Sarevok's little secret. I see."
Rana narrowed her eyes, studying Imoen's cold expression.
"He knew because he was there. Not because I decided to confide in him and not you."
"So he just suddenly appeared while you were under attack and helped you. Out of the kindness of his heart. How uncharacteristically gallant of him."
"What are you trying to get at, Imoen? Drop the bratty attitude and just say it."
"Now, now, my feisty birds…" Haer'Dalis tried to intervene.
"You two seemed awfully chummy during this meeting. Totally condescending about killing a bunch of people, and then too absorbed in your own private conversation to deign to contribute to the plans the rest of us were trying to come up with."
"Sorry if I was having trouble pretending like the past two hours weren't a total waste of time. You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."
"Jealous?! Are you serious?"
"Yes. Because I was talking to him rather than you. Nevermind the fact that you stay wrapped up in him," Rana waved at the tiefling. "All the time that I can barely get a word in edgewise."
"Oho! Well, aren't you the raven calling the crow black. Who sounds jealous now?"
"Goodnight, Imoen."
As she turned to leave, she noticed the bard trying to drag her sister into a corner in order to prevent the girl from following her.
She didn't know what had triggered Imoen into starting this little spat, but she was in no mood for it. They were sisters and had always acted like it, even before finding out that they shared a father. Usually that meant they were closer than the best of friends. They knew each other inside and out. Sometimes, though, it meant they both knew where the other's buttons were and exactly how much pressure to apply in order to get a reaction. These squabbles never lasted long, and rarely ever scratched deeper than surface temper. At least, they didn't before. Now, with the taint tightening it's hold over each of them, and the ever-growing mountain of secrets Rana seemed to be collecting and hoarding, plus Imoen's growing relationship with the bard… it was only a matter of time before they began getting under each other's skin.
"Maybe I'd want to spend more time with you if you weren't always so closed off and moody," Imoen piped up before Rana could get out of the room. "I get it, your life sucks, but that doesn't mean I want to bask in the gloom with you all the time."
Rana stopped. The girl's words were like an injection of raw fury and indignation straight into her veins. She was thankful they were the only ones left in the room, aside from Haer'Dalis, but she didn't give a damn what he thought of this.
"Not everything revolves around you, Imoen. Some of us have inescapable destinies to contend with, I'm sorry that's such an inconvenience for you. If you don't have time for me, that's perfectly fine. Just don't act like a little bitch when you realize I'm not pining for your attention. Mmkay?"
"Likewise."
Pain flared in her palms as she clenched her fists, her nails cutting the skin. Taking a deep breath, Rana left the room without so much as a backwards glance or pithy reply. Her sister was obviously spoiling for a fight, so she wouldn't oblige her. Let the boyfriend handle that mess.
"My lady?"
Anomen appeared out of nowhere right as she reached the stairs to the second floor.
"What is it, Anomen?" She asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
She really just wanted to soak in a hot bath and go to bed.
"I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to the Temple in the morning. I'd like to show you the progress I've made with what passes for this town's guards. Perhaps we could stop at the Sawtooth Inn and speak with it's proprietor about the missing woman. Over dinner. I'm not convinced she was a bhaalspawn. I have a feeling whoever took her is also responsible for the children. I think I can get to the bottom of this far quicker than the Ranger can."
There was too much of what he'd just said for Rana to process properly.
"Valygar? This isn't a competition, Anomen. The finding of the children is what's important, not who found them."
"I disagree, Ilyrana. Imagine how grateful the people of this cesspool will be if a priest of Helm returns their kids. How beneficial their gratitude will be to the church. And in turn, how much order the church can then bring about to this corrupt place. If your woodsman finds them, they'll… what? Give him some gold? How can he effect change?"
"Who cares about the damn town? Or who gets the pat on the back? We should be working together, not turning this into a pissing contest. Besides, you've been with the Temple for a couple days and have learned nothing. Valygar has already asked around about the kids, so the next obvious place to go is that ranger outpost. Until he returns, I'm just gonna wait."
"My apologies, my lady," he said stiffly. "Please, don't let me keep you from eagerly awaiting Valygar's return."
While he stomped towards the front door, all she could do was stare after him in partial bewilderment and partial disgust. Was everyone smoking or drinking something and just not offering any to her?!
"Mistress!"
Halfway through her bedroom door, Rana turned to see Chauntia ascending the stairs and moving toward her, adjusting the green scarf she always wore around her neck.
"I was wondering if maybe… well, if you needed assistance with your bath. I saw you outside with your bow earlier, you must be sore."
She opened her mouth to decline the offer, but it was the girl's fidgeting that stopped her. It was obvious the younger woman was scarred. Rana had done much the same once to conceal her own. Before she'd stopped caring. Perhaps she could help.
"I would appreciate the extra hand. It's past time for a chat, too, I think," she added, having not forgotten the other intriguing aspects to the Chultan.
Something like hope glimmered in those emerald eyes, along with foreboding. Whatever Chauntia's idea of a late night conversation was, it didn't sit too well with her. Which scratched at Rana's curiosity.
Rook leapt from her arms onto the bed and immediately burrowed between her two pillows. Popping his head up, he watched her gather her nightclothes from her drawers before yawning and disappearing in his little makeshift den.
While Chauntia sat on the rim of the bathtub, testing the temperature with her fingers as it filled, Rana debated on how to open this little dialogue. There was a lot she didn't know about the girl. A lot that the girl obviously wanted to divulge, but for whatever reason was scared, or at least wary, of doing so.
In the dim light she could see mottled burn scars across the back of the younger woman's hands and up her exposed forearms. Normally she wore gloves, but she'd removed them to help her with her bath.
Without another thought, Rana disrobed, throwing her clothes in the bin and walking into the bathroom. Chauntia glanced up then went as still as a statue.
Wordlessly, Rana stepped into the hot water and sank down, resting the back of her head atop the porcelain, and closed her eyes. After ten deep breaths, and complete silence from the girl, she spoke.
"Ask, and I'll tell you about them."
"A… about what, my lady?"
"My scars."
A minute passed.
Then another.
"The burns… on your… on your thighs."
"A mage used a Vampiric Touch spell to hold them open to make it hurt more while he raped me."
He heard Chauntia swallow and her breaths come faster. She waited for the obligatory sympathetic bleating. They didn't come, and she felt her shoulders relaxing slightly, not even having noticed they were tense.
"The one on your side?"
"One of Sarevok's less savory gifts."
"What? Sarevok did that to you?"
"Sibling rivalry."
She opened her eyes to see the reaction those words would garner. She wasn't disappointed.
"I… I don't understand."
"He's my half-brother."
"Which is why I'm confused."
"Girl, that makes two of us."
Chauntia laughed, and though she was obviously still curious, she moved on.
"The ones down your back?"
"The same mage took spinal fluid samples, then decided to turn the incisions into X's 'cause he thought they looked nicer that way."
The girl's face looked haunted, as if she could feel the pain wrought by Irenicus's knife. Blessedly, she soldiered on, so Rana wouldn't be forced to dwell on the memory.
"The ones on your neck?"
"Gibberling on this side," Rana said, pointing to the three scratches before motioning to her shoulder. "And vampire bite over here."
"I thought vampires went for the jugular?"
"The more experienced ones do. The younger ones haven't learned to control their hunger and their bloodlust makes them sloppy."
The girl went quiet, absorbing everything she'd been told. After awhile, she moved around to sit on the floor behind Rana's head and began to lather her hair with oil.
"Mezoar isn't really my father."
Rana thought she'd had a pretty good idea of what sort of questions and comments Chauntia would make following her explanations of how she got her scars. This statement definitely wasn't one of them.
"Who is he to you then?"
"He used to be head cook in my family's estate back in Chult. He was employed there before I was even born, and so he watched me grow up, and had more of a hand in my rearing than my parents did."
"You know you have to tell me the whole story now. Not just about how the two of you came to be here, but also about your scars."
"It's only fair, I suppose," Chauntia agreed, her voice a little shaky with nerves.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, her hands still moving methodically through Rana's thick mass of hair, she began to tell her story.
"I was a member of one of the more prominent families where I lived. We were wealthy, thanks to my father's knack for knowing where to invest his gold, and my mother's ability to befriend just about anyone. I was their only child, and thus was being groomed to help my mother in establishing business contacts and the like. My parents weren't very affectionate and were pretty self-absorbed. They cared more about their image and their riches than they did anything else. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, I wanted more than anything to earn their love and attention."
She stopped here to take another deep breath. Rana could feel her hands shake a little against her scalp, but she said nothing, letting the girl take all the time she needed to get this out.
"About two years ago, my family hit a run of bad investments and we lost a lot of our wealth, and with it our standing and influence within the city. My mother and father began to quarrel, servants began to resign as their wages were cut, and my tutors left as we could no longer afford them. Things were bleak for awhile. Until a woman showed up one day, claiming to be a mage of great skill, and offered to apprentice me as she could sense latent magical ability inside me. My parents jumped at this, eager to have a mage in the family, hoping that maybe, once I returned, they could use my new status as a way of working their way back up the social ladder. They gave her what gold they had left, and I was eager to help my family, to make them proud. What a fool I was."
"Did you struggle with learning magic?"
Chauntia barked out a bitter laugh.
"I don't know if I would have struggled or not. The mage, whose name I will never speak again for as long as I live, didn't teach me. I'm pretty sure she lied about me having magical talent. As soon as I was away from my parents, squirreled away in her shabby hut outside of the city, I became her guinea pig. Her target dummy. Turns out she was a second rate sorceress who just needed the gold, so she conned her way into the good graces of desperate families like mine. Once she had their gold she had little real use for me, but of course she couldn't just turn me out could she? No, instead, she used my parent's money to purchase spells she was far too inept to cast, and I was the one she practiced on."
Rana closed her eyes so the girl wouldn't glimpse the glow she knew they had begun to emit. It was far too easy to blend her own memories of being helpless at the hand of a mage's experiments with Chauntia's. Too easy to let her rage take over, to burn away the pain.
"That's how you came by the burns on your arms. And the scars on your neck that you try to hide."
In answer, Chauntia stood and moved around the tub so she could see her. With shaking hands, she unwound her scarf and set it aside. Candlelight reflected off of pale swatches of scar tissue that dotted her neck and shoulders. Among them were more burns and a few jagged cuts.
"Why do you hide them?"
Chauntia's initial reaction to Rana's inquiry was to look at her like she were mad. That the answer should be obvious. Then, the girl's expressive eyes dipped to the scars visible on Rana's neck and shoulder. Her hand went up to trace the imperfections on her dark skin, and her face became contemplative.
"They're ugly," she finally whispered, now avoiding her gaze.
"I could say that beauty is in the eye of the Beholder. But, trust me, there's nothing pretty about those creatures."
Chauntia let out a reluctant chuckle at Rana's attempt at a joke.
"I could also say no one will notice or care, but we both know that's a lie. You're an attractive young woman, so a lot of men will look at your scars and think 'she'd be perfect if not for those things'. Women will either look at you pityingly or with a smirk of superiority, because they think your beauty is flawed. It isn't. The longer you live, the more scars you're going to accumulate. If you don't, it means you're not really living. Your scars tell a story. A tale of a sadistic woman whom you survived. If someone looks at you and doesn't see that, they're not worthy of your time."
The girl looked down at her arms, studying them in what Rana hoped was a new light. The girl was young yet, young enough to still believe that looks were everything. So she may not truly believe what Rana was telling her, but she was also smart. She'd realize the truth in her words eventually. Or not, and retain this insecurity.
I was like her once. Not so very long ago, but gods, it feels like a lifetime has passed.
The first scar to be added to her menagerie was from the gibberling. Not a day after she'd watched Sarevok cut down her godfather, she'd nearly been eviscerated by the ghoulish thing. It had come out of nowhere, it's preceding hellish scream the only thing that saved her. Jerking away reflexively, it's claws had only grazed her neck, rather than gouging out three deep furrows that would have made her bleed out not long after she hit the ground. Imoen had put an arrow through its eye before it could finish her off. Both girls had been in a complete panic afterward, though, so much so that they both wasted half their quivers shooting at any quivering bush, shifting shadow, or surprised rabbit they encountered on their way to the Friendly Arm Inn.
She couldn't help but smile a little sadly at the memory. They had come a long way from nearly wetting themselves from fear of another gibberling ambush. To see one now would actually be a relief. Rana would rather fight a horde of them before facing another vampire nest, dragon den, or spider of any size.
"I thought my body was ruined," Chauntia admitted quietly, bringing Rana back to the present. "That no one would want me because I've been damaged. I knew you had scars, probably more than just the visible ones. It… it gave me hope. I saw the way some of the men looked at you. Especially your half… ahem, Sarevok. He doesn't seem to find them unattractive, if he even notices them at all."
"It's not quite the same. He's a warrior, with far more scars than I currently have, so he only notices what they stand for. Many other men will look at me and see only the marred skin. Find you someone like… well, not like Sarevok, I wouldn't wish that upon you, but someone who will look at you and see your strength and resilience, rather than some damn scars."
This garnered a slightly more enthusiastic laugh.
"Ya know," Rana continued, tilting her head in thought. "There is another man under this roof who wouldn't see your scars as ugly. One whom I've noticed you get pretty flustered at just the mention of."
"You mean the one who doesn't notice my existence."
"If Valygar doesn't see you, it's only because he's masochistically pursuing Jaheira. But, just between you and me, a man like that is wasted on her."
"But she's very strong. And pretty. And-"
"Opinionated, self-righteous, hypocritical, and condescending?"
"You know I can't speak of her that way."
"No, but we both know it's true. Jaheira is a lot of things, but good for Valygar she is not. He'll realize that sooner or later. And when he does, I'm going to subtly push him in your direction."
"What?! No! My lady, please, I don't think I'm even capable of speaking to him without tripping over my own tongue."
"Oh this is happening. Resign yourself," Rana drawled, grinning at the girl's furious blush and weak attempt at a scowl.
"Now, tell me how you escaped the mage."
Chauntia dipped a pitcher in the water and began to rinse the cleansing oil out of Rana's hair.
"I was there almost three months. She quickly burned through my parent's gold, and when she did, she shackled me in her basement and left to find new people to prey on. I don't know how long I was down there in the dark. Probably only a couple days at a time, since I didn't starve to death, but it felt like an eternity. I worried about going mad almost as much as I worried about food and water. The only thing that got me through those long hours was the hope that surely my parents would begin to wonder why I wasn't writing them and investigate."
She stopped to set the pitcher aside, shaking her head at her own naivete, and handed a cake of soap and a washcloth to Rana.
"Eventually she'd return, sometimes with more gold, sometimes empty handed and furious. She'd take out her anger on me, but always made sure not to hurt me too badly. I'm not sure why she didn't just kill me. Maybe she hoped to ransom me back to my parents at some point. Anyway, one day I was lying on a cot in the spare room, passed out from another round of being hammered with magic missiles and acid arrows. She'd keep me in this room when she was home, only chaining me up in the basement when she left. I heard someone hissing my name through the bars of my window. When I looked up, I saw Mezoar."
The girl smiled when she said the older man's name, probably reliving the relief she felt at the sight of him.
"He told me to hang on, that he was going to free me later that night when the woman fell asleep. I remember wanting to tell him not to risk it, that I would hate it if something happened to him on account of me. I couldn't bring myself to send him away, though. I was just so happy to see him. To have hope. When it was dark, I heard the door to my room unlock. He had to half carry me out, I was still too weak. I'll never forget, for as long as I live, how terrifying that night was. We picked our way blindly through the surrounding forest. There was no moonlight and we dared not risk a fire. I was convinced she was pursuing us. That she'd woken to find me gone and had given chase. Every twig that snapped beneath our feet was thunderous, so loud that surely the woman would hear it and know where to follow. When morning came, I expected to see the city but we were still in the forest. We finally stopped to rest, not having much choice as we were exhausted, and my wounds had reopened long ago and I'd been bleeding through the night. It was then that I asked Mezoar where we were, if we were close to home. It was then that… that I learned the truth behind my imprisonment."
The girl took back the soap and washcloth once Rana was through with them and returned to sit on the rim of the tub, trailing her fingers in the water. It was several minutes before she spoke again, and it was unmistakable that she was holding back tears as she did.
"Mezoar had always been there when my mother and father were too busy to play with me, or tend to my skinned knees, and other childhood woes. In a lot of ways, he was the parent my real parents wouldn't bother themselves to be. So, he became suspicious when I hadn't tried to contact him or anyone else. My parents didn't seem concerned at all over the lack of correspondence. He said they started inviting dangerous looking people over. And that they'd be shut up in their study with them for hours at a time. When he finally asked them if they'd heard from me, or knew when I'd return to visit, they reprimanded him and threatened him if he spoke a word of my apprenticeship to anyone outside the household. This led him to begin eavesdropping on my parents. Eventually, he heard everything. Apparently, they sold me to the mage, knowing she wasn't going to train me and that she wasn't very skilled. Also knowing that they may never see me alive again. The shady people they brought to the house? They were rogues my parents were trying to hire to plant incriminating documents on one of the more powerful houses in the city. Documents that would describe my being kidnapped either by them or by their command. My parents were planning on reporting me missing, and directing the authorities to this other family, wherein the blame for my disappearance would fall on their shoulders. At which point my parents would have seized their wealth in recompense for my being kidnapped by them. The authorities would have eventually been led to the mage's home outside the city. By the time they would have finally found me, I would probably have long been dead, or at least crippled. The other families would have been horrified by what happened, and my parents would have soaked up the sympathy and attention. Along with all the assets they would have acquired from the framed family."
"So the mage is still alive," Rana whispered.
And her piece of shit parents. Not for long though.
"I suppose. When Mezoar told me everything he heard… I'm ashamed to admit that at first I didn't believe him. Or, at least, I didn't want to believe him. Even after all of it, I wanted to hold onto the illusion that my parents loved me. He said he wrote a letter to the captain of the guard, detailing what my parents were trying to do, and then set off to find me. When he left, he knew he wasn't going back, that he would be leaving behind everything he knew and had worked for. For me. That's when I couldn't keep lying to myself. We eventually came to a town, and he started offering up his services to anyone who would pay him. After a time, we moved on, travelling from town to town, port to port. He didn't want me to work, didn't think I should because I was born a noble, so he cooked for wealthier families to take care of me. I hated not being able to help, so I started to learn how to lift coin purses and open the locks on the safe boxes kept by stall keepers. Of course, he found out what I was up to, and scolded me something fierce. He said I was raised to be a lady, not a thief. I said that I wasn't going to stand by and let him break his back trying to provide for me. So, he started letting me work as a servant, maybe hoping it would be too strenuous and I'd beg to go back to being a lady. I actually don't mind the work. I like the routine and the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. But I never stopped honing the skills I was teaching myself. If I'm ever held captive again, I'll be damned if I can't pick my way out."
Rana stared at Chauntia, mulling over her story.
For a young woman who was gently bred, she adapted quickly to life on the road, and without the luxuries she would have become accustomed to at her former home. Not only had she survived an ordeal that would have killed a weaker person, she was flourishing.
"Do you know if your parents were ever brought to justice? Or the mage?"
"No. We were too afraid to ask around, in case they had put out a bounty stating Mezoar had kidnapped me. As for the mage, while I haven't heard anything about her, I have a feeling she'll get what's coming to her, if she hasn't already. Maybe, one day, when I'm stronger, I'll go back there and find out. Maybe. For now, I'm quite content here."
"I have contacts within the Shadow Thieves. It wouldn't take much to find out, Chauntia. If you want to know. And if you want them dealt with. It's up to you."
Chauntia went still, brow furrowed, her gaze far away. Rana gave her a moment to consider her offer, hoping the girl would allow her to help this much. Vengeance by proxy could still be satisfying.
"Does it make me a bad person if I find the thought of them dying to be satisfying?" Chauntia asked, her voice small and almost afraid.
"You may be asking the wrong person that question."
"I want to know what you think."
"No, it doesn't make you a bad person. A bad person is someone who sells their child for personal gain. A bad person is someone who uses another living being as target practice. Visiting bad things on bad people doesn't make you bad. Sometimes, depending on your motivations, it can make you good. Other times, it's neither. Or both. Like I said, a child of murder isn't the best person to ask questions regarding morality. It's in my very nature to encourage death."
"I'm not sure yet if I want to know if they're still alive. And what I want to do if they are."
"Alright. Let me know if you make up your mind."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Listening to my story. Telling me about your scars. For not pitying me. It… it means a lot, my lady."
"Rana. Call me Rana."
For the first time that evening, Chauntia's smile was genuine, unreserved, and radiant. Rana was utterly helpless not to return it.
"Also, if you'd like, I can teach you what I know. Lockpicking, pickpocketing, how to avoid being seen, and… other more useful skills."
She held the girl's gaze until she was sure Chauntia understood what she was implying. That she could teach her how to kill. Quickly and quietly.
"I'd like that. Very much. Thank you… Rana."
Later that night, as Rana snuggled down into bed, pulling a snoring Rook close to her chest, she thought about Chauntia and the mage who had hurt her. About how the girl had retained some degree of youthful innocence in spite of everything. She couldn't help but be reminded of Imoen. Her sister had suffered horrifically at the hands of Irenicus, and yet she had come out stronger, more sure of herself and her abilities, after it was all said and done. Not that Rana hadn't either, but she seemed to be missing that spark that Imoen and Chauntia shared. That inner light that helped keep the encroaching horror of what they'd seen and done away.
She wanted to think about it, to ponder why all three of them, with so many similar scars on their bodies and souls, came to view their world so very differently. Why Rana could no longer look at the stars and feel awe, but could look at the pattern of blood sprayed across the ground after a kill and find it mesmerizingly beautiful. Sleep tugged at her, though, muddling her thoughts and stealing her ability to concentrate.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow she would reflect on what she'd learned of Chauntia, and the questions that had arisen from the conversation. Tomorrow…
The room was dark, lit only by a few lazily burning candles and the light of the full moon streaming through the open window. Curtains rippling and billowing from an oncoming storm covered the soft sound of boots coming to rest on polished hardwood floors.
Slipping from shadow to shifting shadow, Rana ghosted toward the massive bed...and the man sleeping within it. Stretched out on his stomach, shirtless, the moonlight illuminating the scars lashed into the dark skin of his back, the sight of him made her pause.
He was bigger than she remembered from that night she watched him murder her foster father. Bigger, yet unarmored and unarmed, he was less terrifying. At least, for now. He wouldn't be if he woke.
At this moment, Rana realized this was a dream, one she'd had multiple times before, starting on the night she first arrived in Baldur's Gate. The last time she'd dreamt it was during a brief rest taken just before crashing Sarevok's inauguration ceremony at the Ducal Palace. She knew what was going to happen, assuming that is, after all these years, the dream wouldn't change. She tried to wake herself up, but as always, her mind overpowered her will and ignored her.
Withdrawing the dagger from within the hooded cloak she wore, she moved into position beside the bed. His face was turned towards her, and she couldn't stop her eyes from flicking to it every half second to ensure he was still asleep. Her heart was hammering now in her chest, hard enough that she seemed convinced it would wake him.
Adjusting her grip on the worn leather of the handle, she shifted her weight back, readying to strike with all of her strength to ensure the blade slipped cleanly through the back of his neck. Taking a slow, deep breath, she glanced back at his face one last time, and her heart stopped. Golden eyes, glowing like candlelight, glared back at her.
Everything happened at once. There was an explosion of movement as she struck, hoping to make the kill before his sleep deadened reflexes could kick in. His hand shot out and caught her wrist, the blade just nicking his skin, and he surged to his feet, other hand clamping around her throat.
Her back hit stone as he slammed her against the wall, the back of her head smacking against it hard enough that her vision blurred. Or perhaps that was from the lack of oxygen to her brain as his grip tightened on her windpipe.
"That was very close," he snarled. "You are going to live just long enough to regret ever making an attempt on my life."
Ripping her weapon from her hand, he reached over and slammed it to the hilt into the wood of a nearby desk. Her gloved fingers clawed at the hand around her throat, trying vainly to pry his fingers open.
Grasping the black fabric of her hood, he pulled it back, and his eyes widened as their gazes met.
"You!"
To her surprise, he released her and took a step back. Hunching over, she gasped for air. After a few recuperating inhalations, her attention on the shadowed recesses around the window she had come through, she lunged toward it.
Grasping the sill, she attempted to drop out, anything to escape him. An arm snaked around her torso and hauled her back. Before she could even utter a sound or move a muscle, she felt cold steel press against her throat. She froze.
"You are far braver than I gave you credit for, girl," his deep voice rumbled in her ear as he pressed her back against his chest. "But far more foolish if you honestly believed you could pull this off."
"I almost did," she snarled, digging the clawed tips of her gloves into his forearm.
"Almost," he sneered, pressing the blade hard enough against her skin to draw blood.
"Finish it, then," she bit out. "Like you did to Gorion, ambushing us with an entire group of soldiers in the middle of the night. Like a fucking coward!"
The knife cut deeper, making her think, for just a moment, that he'd done it.
"Is that what you want? A fair fight? The illusion of an actual chance to kill me yourself? Ah, Ilyrana, you poor little fool, nothing would please me more."
The knife disappeared, and she was shoved forward, hard enough that she hit the wall, causing pain to lance through her wrists when she caught herself against the stone.
Whipping out her short swords, she spun around to face him, to take her vengeance at last against the man who had butchered the only family she'd ever known.
He wore no armor and held only her knife. It didn't matter that he was far bigger, far stronger, and far more experienced. What mattered was that he was evil, and she was not, and that history usually favored the righteous. She was in the right, and she was still young enough at this point to believe that would be the deciding factor in who walked away tonight.
"Come, Ilyrana. Do what you came here to do. Avenge Gorion. Erase the memory of his pathetic whimpering as he lay dying at my feet. I know you watched him die, hidden away like a scared little girl while he perished. Dying, in vain, to protect your worthless life."
Rana struggled to wake herself, not wanting to see what came next. Not wanting to remember the shame she felt each time she had awoken from this dream. The confusion. The rage. The absolute disgust that her mind could even conjure a scenario like this. Assassinating him had been a fevered fantasy of hers during those years, but the dream always ended so very differently than she had envisioned.
His words ignited the helpless fury she had felt that night she'd seen Gorion cut down. It burned away the fear, lending her courage and clarity and a naive sense of arrogance.
She lunged at him, spinning both blades expertly in her hands to build momentum, aiming at his exposed torso. He leaned back, avoiding the strikes, then took a step back to dodge the next flurry of steel. She kept advancing, her swords only missing their mark by a fraction of an inch, each near hit giving her a dose of false confidence, a surety that next time she wouldn't miss.
Another slash. Another miss.
He stepped back. She stepped forward.
So close. Almost.
Just one more swing. The next one for sure.
She didn't see him strike. Didn't see the knife blur towards her forearm until it had cut through her leather armor, tearing it and the flesh beneath it. One of her swords went skidding across the floor.
Stumbling back, cradling her bleeding arm to her chest, she felt her bravery and confidence evaporate as he began moving toward her. The game was over.
She blocked the downward slash of the knife with her remaining sword, then kicked out, her booted foot connecting with his knee. It wasn't hard enough to incapacitate, but it was enough to unbalance him, however briefly, giving her the chance to dive for her dropped sword.
She rolled to her feet, both blades in her hands, ready to continue the fight, completely unaware that it was already over.
Faster than a man his size should be able to move, he was on her. His hands wrapped around her wrists and squeezed, forcing her own open, and her short swords clattered to the floor. She was shoved back into the wall, the back of her head striking the stone a second time this night, and this time left her seeing stars.
She expected to feel steel sliding across her throat, or plunged into her stomach, but the blows never came. When she could focus again, he stood just before her, both hands resting on the wall on either side of her shoulders, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. Those glowing, mesmerizing eyes held hers and she knew she had lost.
"Kill me then," she whispered, her words slurred a little from the pain of her injuries.
"I never wanted you dead, Ilyrana. I only ever wanted that Harper out of the way. Out of my way. Out of our way."
His words confused her. He spoke as if she should know what he was saying. For some reason, that scared her more than the thought of dying.
"What… what are you talking about?"
"You were supposed to be mine. He took you from me. I vowed I would get you back… and leave his corpse behind when I did."
"You're not making any sense."
She tried to duck under his arms, to get away, but he only dragged her back, pressing closer now to keep her from trying to escape again.
"You were supposed to be mine," he said again, his deep voice tinged with rage and longing. "Now, you will be."
His lips pressed against hers, and the shock of it kept her from moving for a few seconds, just long enough for her confusion and apprehension to melt away.
This shouldn't be happening. But it was. This shouldn't feel right. But it did. Something about the taste of him, the feel of his hands in her hair, his scent, tugged at her memory. Like she had done this with him before, but how could she? He felt so familiar to her, but how when he was a stranger?
Rana felt the tears coursing down her face, even in sleep. In the dream, and all those times she'd dreamt it in the past, she didn't know that she did know him. Had once known him better than anyone, as he had once known her.
The dream shifted, changed for the first time ever, and turned into a memory. One she had buried so deep that even the return of her erased memories hadn't brought it back. So painful and sweet was it that to remember it would have reinforced the sorrow of his death to the point she wouldn't have survived it.
"Rana, listen to me. If we ever become separated, make your way north, to that town where the priests get the food from. If I can, I'll find you there."
They were laying in their tree outside of the walls of the temple of Bhaal. Curled up together beneath the threadbare blanket he had given her months before.
"We're not gonna get separated. We'll go to that town together."
"Rana, please-"
"Why are you saying this? Are you planning on doing something stupid? Something that's gonna get you taken away from me?"
"Don't worry about me. I just need you to promise-"
"No. Whatever you're thinking about doing, don't. You don't get to do things without me, Sarevok. We're getting out of here together or not at all. Do you understand me?"
He sat up, so fast that she was nearly knocked off the tree limb.
"Damnit, Ilyrana, listen to me! This isn't a game! If, for any reason, something happens to me, you come here, get our bag of supplies, and start walking north. Even if you have to leave me behind. Even if I'm dead. Swear it, Rana. Swear it!"
"No!" She snarled, sitting up to face him. "You can't tell me what to do! If I don't wanna leave you, then I won't, and there's nothing you can do about it! Why is this so important all of a sudden?"
"Fine. Don't swear to it. I'm going. Come talk to me when you've grown up a little and changed your mind."
He rose to leave. Before he could finish climbing down the branch, she tackled him, knocking them both to the ground several feet below. Luckily, beds of autumn leaves broke their fall.
"You stupid girl!" He cried, spitting out dead leaves and trying to extricate himself from underneath her.
"You stupid boy! You're not going anywhere! Not now, and not ever! I told you I'm keeping you and there's not… not a damn thing you can do about it!"
He stopped struggling, laying his head back and sighing as he realized he'd lost this round. He never could keep fighting with her when she started to cry. Something about seeing those huge amber eyes welling with tears defeated him. Even though it was too dark to see, he knew what she looked like, and the image alone was enough.
Rana tried one last time to wake up, to pull herself from the memory. Not only because she was afraid she knew what was going to happen, even if this was the first time remembering it, but also because she had begun to realize she was seeing this from not only her perspective, but from Sarevok's as well.
Which meant he was, and likely had been all along, dreaming this with her.
"Do you hear me?!" She shrieked at him, trembling with emotion.
Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her, coaxing her to lie down atop him, and he tucked her head beneath his chin when she eventually did. She sobbed, and they both knew why she was really crying. It was fear. The fear of being alone again. Left to stand against the horror of this place without anyone beside her. He felt this, too, but the fear of her dying, or of her being left here if something happened to him, was what had prompted him to make her promise to head north should anything happen.
"Alright, Rana. I'm not going anywhere. I won't do anything without you. I promise. Can you stop crying now?"
"I'm not crying, you're crying!"
He laughed at her irritated response, which earned him a jab of her tiny fist into his ribs. It made him laugh harder. Hissing, she struggled to lean up. He let her.
"Stop laughing at me!"
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm not laughing anymore, see?"
She huffed. They both pretended not to hear her sniffling and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt.
"No more talking about being separated?"
"No more talking about being separated," he agreed.
She moved to get off him, but he tightened his grip, keeping her where she was. He felt her look down at him, puzzled. Reaching up, he wiped the tears off her face and smoothed her hair back behind pointed ears.
Neither of them knew why he did what he did next.
Gently, he took her face in both his hands and pulled her down to him until his lips pressed against hers. It was innocent in a way only children can be. He'd wanted to take her sadness away. And to make her understand that she wasn't alone. She would never be alone as long as he drew breath. Time stopped for a moment. Or at least until she thumped him upside the head.
"What was that for?"
He shrugged. She huffed.
"Are you done crying now?"
"I wasn't crying," she muttered, scooting to lay down beside him.
She let him tuck her against him, wrapping them both in the blanket that had fallen with them.
"I love you," she whispered just before falling asleep.
"I love you, too," he whispered back, almost too softly to hear.
Rana sat up in bed, gasping and hiccuping as tears ran freely down her face, as the voice of Sarevok the boy faded in her mind. Her chest ached so fiercely that she thought she'd been injured in her sleep. There were no wounds, though. At least none that could be seen.
There were no words, in either common or elvish, to come close to describing how she felt. First, that dream. Then that memory. Both so vivid that she wasn't entirely sure if the dream wasn't also a memory.
Gods, how could she have not remembered that? How much else was still buried inside her head, waiting for the proper moment to be remembered? And why now?
He had been her first kiss. Sure, it could be argued that it didn't count, they were both so young, and it wasn't done with the same intent as most kisses, but still.
And she'd told him she loved him. Which she had. And he had responded in kind.
Wiping at the tears on her face, she stumbled out of bed, gasping when the cold air hit her bare legs. She needed to move. Couldn't stand the thought of trying to go back to sleep after that. It hurt so badly that she was afraid it would trigger the sorrow all over again.
Reaching toward her dresser, and a pair of leggings to throw on, she stopped when she heard footsteps coming toward her room. She noticed her door had been left unlocked just as it opened.
"Go away," she whispered, turning her face away to hide her reddened eyes and damp cheeks.
"No. We're going to talk. Have you had that dream before?"
Rana glared at Sarevok, hating him for bringing up the dream while omitting that memory. Who cares about the damn dream?!
"Go. Away!" She snarled when he closed, and locked, her door behind him.
"I've had that same dream, Rana. Before tonight."
"What?"
"Of you attempting to assassinate me in my sleep. I've dreamt it several times before, back when I was still trying to ascend."
"How? That's impossible. We didn't share a soul then. You're lying!"
"Damnit, girl, what reason would I have to lie?! You think I enjoy these little unexplainable revelations?!"
She cringed when he yelled, and strained to listen if anyone was moving around outside her room and might have heard him.
"Our memories," he muttered as if to himself. "Just like how you would sleepwalk to the northernmost ramparts at Candlekeep because you felt drawn to Baldur's Gate. This is the same thing, it has to be, it was our memories trying to surface."
"Okay, but for both of us to have the same dream back then, before sharing a soul? How would our memories have any control over that? Was my dream exactly the same as the ones you had? Or were there differences?"
"The only difference was I saw everything from your point of view, because you were the one dreaming it. Every other detail was precisely the same as when I used to dream it."
Wrapping her arms around herself, Rana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, vainly trying to calm her nerves.
"It doesn't matter," she finally said. "There's a logical explanation, we're just not seeing it. Now, I want you to leave."
She wanted him gone. That memory still echoed just behind her eyes, and she wanted to simultaneously block it out forever as well as replay every bittersweet moment. Until she could make up her mind about it, the last thing she wanted was his presence further confusing things.
When he didn't answer, and she didn't hear her door open and close, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her like he'd never seen her before.
"What?"
"That last part… of us as children. I felt your reaction. Why did that affect you so much?"
"Are you serious?! Seeing a memory, especially one as poignant as that, remembering it for the first time, how could I not be affected? How could you not be affected? Ugh, forget that last question, I should know better."
"This was your first time remembering that?"
Rana took a step back, her arms tightening around her stomach.
"It wasn't for you?"
"No, Rana. That one returned with all the rest. It was that one that stayed my hand."
Further proof that this particular memory slipped through the cracks, waiting for a better time to present itself, so it wouldn't have fueled the sorrow.
"Please, Sarevok, just go," she whispered.
It was too much. This was just too overwhelming, she couldn't think straight, nor did it seem like she could get enough air into her lungs. It felt almost like she'd been hit by crossbow bolts again.
He stepped toward her, and her eyes flicked up to his, silently begging him to leave.
"Rana, is that my shirt you're wearing?"
She looked down and noticed that she was indeed wearing his shirt. And not much else. Thankfully, it fell to mid thigh, but still, the realization that she was wearing practically nothing while locked in a bedroom with Sarevok in the middle of the night left her feeling incredibly vulnerable.
His eyes glittered as he took another step closer, his gaze trained on her so intensely that it reminded her of the serpent hypnotizing the bird. Just before striking.
"Please…" was all she could manage, though she had no real idea what she was pleading for at this point.
Two more strides had him standing just before her. She looked up at him, unable to hide her emotions, the pain and confusion in her eyes.
"Do you have any idea what this does to me?" He asked, his voice a little forced, as he reached out to trail his hand through her hair, then down her arm, and to circle her waist. "Seeing you in my shirt like this?"
Rana swayed, her mind still racing to process everything, and she leaned into him for support.
She wanted him to leave. Didn't she?
But why did touching him, and being touched by him, feel so good? Why was it that being close to him made her feel both steadier and off balanced? Why did he always affect her like this?!
The man wasn't the boy. But she still responded to him as if they were the same.
His lips brushed her neck and she couldn't think anymore. Clinging to him like he were a lifeline in a stormy sea, she struggled to remember why she wanted him to go.
"Can't… we can't do this."
He tugged her closer, until her back was arched and she was standing on her toes, becoming more aggressive as he explored the slope of her neck.
"Then tell me to stop."
Slowly, he began backing her toward her bed.
"I…"
The backs of her knees hit the mattress.
"Say it, Rana."
His hands gripped her hips painfully, and she was sure her throat would be bruised in the morning from his lips and his teeth.
"Say it!"
"I… can't say it."
He lifted her off her feet, giving her just enough time to realize what she had set in motion with her admission, before she was laid back against her pillows. He followed her down, and when he settled his weight above her, something seemed to snap between them.
Suddenly, it was as if all of her misgivings were superfluous, her worry about what the others would say became irrelevant. All that mattered was that he didn't stop.
His mouth claimed hers, one hand tangled in her hair and the other wrapped around her outer thigh, dragging her closer as he pressed against her. Their teeth clicked together as thought and reason fled, both of them reduced to nothing but raw need.
"Wanted you… for so long, Rana. That dream… have you any idea how I felt each time I woke from it?"
Slowly, he worked her stolen shirt up as he spoke, exposing the thin material of her smallclothes, then her stomach, then her breasts.
"It made me hate you even more, because of how badly it made me want you there. In my room. In my bed. At my mercy. I should have known something bigger was at work, to not even imagine killing you if I had you like that."
She tried to reply, but his mouth clamped over her breast, his tongue swirling languidly around her nipple, and words became difficult for her.
"And what… did you imagine doing then?"
In answer, he released her breast, his lips skimming across her skin as he moved lower, down her stomach, making her twitch when he brushed a rib. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm ticklish. Don't get any ideas."
His heated smirk woke up those stupid damn butterflies again.
Her eyes slid shut, head lolling, as he drifted down her body, his breath raising gooseflesh when he reached her belly button.
When he teased lower, making her writhe beneath him in anticipation, she dug her nails into the corded muscle of his shoulders, which earned her a nip just above the waistband of her panties.
"Look at me," he demanded, voice roughened with desire.
Rana opened her eyes and looked at him dazedly, becoming almost immediately trapped by his gaze. She watched him hook his thumbs around her smallclothes and pause, waiting for her nod of assent.
She gave it.
Lifting her hips, he slid the cloth down her legs and dropped it to the floor.
It was at this moment, when he looked down at her, eyes blazing with desire, that her lust clouded mind fully grasped the very real possibility that they were going to have sex. From the first time he'd touched her since entering her room, until now, she'd been too swept up in the moment to consider the inevitable conclusion.
Nothing had been resolved between them. He still wanted her to ascend. Still just wanted to enjoy her body until then.
Okay, so say we sleep together and he never succeeds in convincing me to chase godhood. What then? He gets pissy and leaves me, most likely. Fine. It would never work anyway. But what if I lose Imoen along the way because she found out? What will I be left with in the end? Absolutely nothing.
It was a sobering thought. One that should be enough to tell him she'd changed her mind.
Yet she remained silent.
Even when he spread her thighs, his rough palms squeezing that scarred flesh, she didn't protest.
She wouldn't admit to herself that right now, the consequences meant nothing to her. Maybe it was the dream. Certainly the memory. Perhaps even the quarrel with Imoen earlier that evening. The ripples in the pond that would expand from what they were doing would be dire. But she just couldn't make herself care. She could cross those bridges when she came to them, and maybe even burn a few along the way if need be.
A gasp escaped her lips when she felt his mouth close over her sex. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt him groan against her. Her nails cut into his shoulders, hard enough to break skin, as his tongue flicked against parts of her that had been untouched for too long.
His hands disappeared from her thighs to grab both her wrists and pin them above her head, his grip tightening briefly before letting go, warning her to keep them there. Her fingers clutched at the pillow as she turned her head and pressed her mouth against her arm to muffle a moan as his hands brushed across her breasts before skimming back down her body to clutch her waist.
Rana soon lost count of how many times he brought her to the brink, only to back off, keeping her just a breath away from release. He did this again... and again… and again. Feasting on her whimpers and moans until she was shaking with need. Each time left her panting, undulating her hips to bring that feeling back. She wanted to strangle him, and would have tried to if she could only just remember how to order her body to do what she wanted it to. But she couldn't, because it was currently his, he had more control over it than she did, and that knowledge would have enraged her if she didn't find it so arousing.
"Sarevok, please…"
Her plea turned into a strangled cry when he set back in, devouring her with a hunger that bordered on savagery. Sliding his tongue between her folds, he took her to the edge again and held her there. She rocked her hips up to his mouth, silently begging him to stop playing this game with her. Slipping his hands to her knees, he pressed her legs wider, holding her open to him in an iron grip. She thought she would scream with frustration when he tore his mouth away to suck on her inner thigh. The teasing would kill her, she was sure of it.
"Please!"
Her arms dropped down to her sides, clutching the sheets until her knuckles turned white. He let out an agonized growl before he took her clitoris between his lips to suckle her. Her eyes went wide, then slowly slid shut. His kiss grew more forceful. Unrestrained. Ravenous. The sensations deepened, stronger and stronger as he snarled against her.
"Come for me, Rana."
Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle her scream as she helplessly obeyed his command. Back arching, nails tearing the linen beneath her palms, Rana surrendered to the fire that rolled through her as he finally allowed her release.
It was only when she felt him drag her toward him that she could open her eyes and even try to focus on anything outside of herself. Kneeling up and hooking her leg around his waist, Sarevok tore at the strings of his breeches.
His eyes burned into hers with a sort of madness, his breaths heaving, and she couldn't stop herself from leaning up to touch him; to run her fingers beneath his shirt to feel the scars and the muscles beneath them.
In a flash, her wrists were pinned back above her head in one of his hands.
"Not going to last with your damn nails in me," he snarled before kissing her with bruising intensity.
Without breaking the kiss, he shifted her beneath them, positioning her to receive him. She could taste herself on his tongue, and it made her whimper. He wasn't giving either of them time to think, and she was grateful for that. She didn't want her mind to catch up to what was happening. Didn't want to feel trepidation or anything of the sort. She just wanted, just needed, to feel him inside her.
He drew back just enough to look at her, and whatever he saw in her eyes made his grip on her wrists tighten.
"You're mine, Rana. Say it." He rasped as he took himself in hand, waiting for her reply before finally claiming her.
Before she could, though, the sound of doors bursting open downstairs made them both freeze. Jaheira's voice rang through the house, forcing everyone awake.
"DROW! DROW IN THE TOWN! ARM YOURSELVES!"