Chapter 23: Whiskey and Wisdom

Sarevok

"Oho! Hey, bro, you wanna finally tell me what Hell was like? Seeing as how you're not likely to remember this conversation?"

The sound of Imoen's voice grated against Sarevok's nerves just as badly as it would have if she had screeched those words at him. Blearily, he looked up from his seat on the couch in one of the sitting rooms and pinned the menace with a glare.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm sure you think you're super scary right now, but the bloodshot eyes just aren't doing it. I could go away and come back if you wanna try again? I could act scared maybe?"

"Can you just go away and not come back?"

"I coooooould," she replied in a singsong voice, further scratching along his nerves. "But I'm not. This is too good an opportunity to pass up."

"Opportunity for what, pest?"

Plopping down in an armchair across from him, and loudly kicking her feet up on the coffee table between them, she grinned cheekily at him.

"How much have you had? Chauntia said you've been in here awhile, and when you showed no signs of letting up, she panicked and went out and bought more whiskey. Said she was afraid what would happen if we ran out and you weren't done drinking."

"I've had enough that it would be unwise to be in here with me. Especially if you're in the mood for ceaseless chatter, because I am not."

"Aw, well that's too bad. So, how about you do the talking and tell me what dying was like. I know, I know, I've died before, too, but we both know an 'oops!' death is very different from a 'time to meet daddy' kind of death. You did meet him didn't you? While you were shacked up in the Abyss? I bet that was wild. What was he like? Did he think he was scary, too? Like father like son-"

"Enough! Gods, girl. Did you slip your leash? Where's the bard? Is he aware you're running around unsupervised?"

"Hah! Look at you being funny. But, seriously, bro… can I call you bro?"

"No."

"Oh, right. That would make it weird for you, seeing as how you can't seem to take your eyes off our sister. If that's your kink, I don't wanna remind you that we are also related."

"Trust me, little pest, I lament every reminder that you and I share any kind of relation. And I'll throw myself on my sword if I someday begin to desire you."

"Good to know. Does that mean I was right in my assessment of you wanting Rana?"

Sarevok's alcohol muddled mind was having difficulty keeping up with the girl's constant subject changes. Part of him wondered why he hadn't seen Bhaal in the Abyss. While another part cowered in horror at the thought of sexualizing Imoen. And yet another part was trying to warn him that the girl was far more clever than she appeared, and this sudden interest in his interest in Rana was dangerous ground.

"I mean," she continued, before he could formulate an answer. "It wouldn't be too big a deal, I suppose. You can't be any more pathetic than Anomen, am I right? And, just between you and me, she does need to get laid. Don't tell her I said that. But, anyway, you can tell me. I'm the best at keeping secrets."

Sarevok had to stifle a whimper at her beaming smile, completely unprepared for this.

"I thought you wanted to know about Hell?"

"Oh, dang, you got it bad then, huh? If you'd rather talk about your stay in the fires than admit how you feel about Rana."

"Do I look like the kind of man who has a lot of feelings?!"

"Nope. But you sure can't seem to gimme a straight answer. You forget, I grew up with the Queen of Deflections. Um… that's Rana, in case you're too drunk to realize who I'm talking about."

I'm back in Hell, aren't I?

"Come on! It's just lil ole me! You like her don't you? At least admit that you think she's pretty. Everyone does, so it doesn't even really count."

He briefly considered telling her the truth, if only to shut her up. And to watch her face when she learned just what he thought of their dear sister.

How would she react if I told her that I've spent the last day and a half thinking of nothing else? Thinking about just this question. There is no simple answer. Just as there is nothing simple about the woman.

Drumming her nails on the worn leather of her armrest, she tilted her head to the side, studying him.

"Are you having an attack of conscience right now? Is that what this is about?" She asked, gesturing to the empty bottles on the side table next to him, and the half-empty one in his hands. "Trying to understand why you saved Rana from killing herself? I bet that's a hard thing to wrap your head around. Doing something selfless. Or maybe it wasn't selfless? Maybe you hoped she'd express her gratitude by-"

"What do you hope to accomplish here, girl? A quick death? Because that's what's going to happen if you don't leave me alone."

"Ooooh, did I hit a nerve?"

"You've clobbered several," he replied through clenched teeth, rubbing his head in hopes of alleviating his growing headache, and downing the rest of his bottle.

"It's a talent of mine."

Either the girl possessed unparalleled skills in the bedroom, or Haer'Dalis was utterly insane. There was no other explanation for encouraging her attentions. For actually wanting to be on the receiving end of her.

"If you don't leave me be, I'll show you one of my talents. Namely how to kill you with only one hand."

"Yeah, yeah, you're stupid strong. Tell me something I don't know. Like about Hell! Or how you really feel about Rana! Ooh, or maaaaaybe you could tell me how long the two of you have been communicating telepathically! Yeah, I bet that explanation is a doozy. Or how about telling me why you want her to ascend so badly? Hmm, actually, scratch that, I'm sure I could guess that one. You're pretty one dimensional when it comes to power. Alright, I guess I'll settle for hearing about what the two of you were up to just before the drow raid. No, no, wait! I think I want the explanation of 'I lost you once, when Gorion tore us apart. And twice when I died!' or whatever it was you said to her. That sounds fascinating. I especially liked the 'I will not lose you again!' part."

Sarevok went still. When he met the girl's eyes, he felt that same chill he'd felt a while back at the inn. After Rana turned the tables on him with their little mind games. And again when the brat had barged in on them in the dining room, when Rana was trying to convince him, and herself, that she didn't want anything between them. There was that same eerie something. The taint, most likely. Seeing it manifest in the mageling had a sobering effect.

"I see I owe you an apology, Imoen. Here I thought you were just Rana's annoying sidekick, only capable of tripping over flat surfaces and accidentally wielding devastating magic, much like a Wild Mage, but without any of the finesse involved."

"Better men than you have underestimated me before, Sarevok."

"Of that I am certain. Tell me, little one, is our sweet sister aware of how much you know? And, pray tell, how did you come by this information?"

"No, she doesn't know. Not yet, anyway. I'm sure you'll tell her, though, seeing as how y'all are so close now. Or, if you want, I can do it. I haven't said anything yet cause she's been closed off since that almost-Slayer incident. Don't wanna trigger another episode."

"Wise. Now, answer my other question."

"How do I know all this? Easy. I've been paying attention."

"And by that you mean utilizing that cloak you bought."

At the time, he hadn't paid much attention to the ugly cloak she'd purchased in town. Her claims of it bestowing immunity to detection fell on deaf ears. At best, he assumed she'd use it for pranks, if it even worked at all.

Imoen gave him a smug look, dug around in a pocket, and withdrew a gleaming, yet dented and scratched, gold ring.

"I filched this off Keldorn a couple days ago. He still thinks it fell off somewhere. I'll give it back to him soon, and say I found it lying around or something. I figured if he, an Inquisitor, didn't notice me stealing his wedding band, then surely my cloak is genuine. You guys must have assumed I slept through Rana trying to kill herself. Nope, I was there, right outside the door, until you unlocked it, then I slipped in. And out again while Chauntia was leaving after cleaning up. So I saw, and heard, everything between you and Rana, and you and Viconia."

"I see."

He briefly considered snapping her neck, but dismissed it almost as soon as the image formed in his mind. What little remained of Rana's sanity would die with her, especially so soon after that nightmare.

Rana's biggest argument against being with him was how her sister would react if she found out. Now the girl knew. And he couldn't even lose her because he hadn't made her his, yet.

"So, ya gonna start talking? Or should I take this convo to Rana? While informing Jaheira, Valygar, Keldorn, yada yada along the way? Oho, I bet Anomen will be really upset to hear that he spent years pining after a woman who gave herself to her foster father's butcher a few months after resurrecting him. Poor guy never stood a chance, that's gonna be maddening."

I think you would be surprised at how little an effect this information would have on some of them.

"You think I fear the priest's rage? Come, girl, you've just revealed how clever you can be, don't make me regret elevating you from 'simpleton' to 'semi-competent'. And Rana hasn't given herself to me."

"Yet. Right? I can practically hear that word tagged on at the end of that sentence. I mean, I can pretty much guess that, from what I heard during you and Viconia's conversation, you've been trying to seduce Rana and yet you want her to ascend. So, you want to have your cake and eat it, too. You get to sleep with a beautiful woman, and not just any beautiful woman, the beautiful woman who murdered you. That's gotta be quite the ego trip right there, turning the tables like that. And to top it off, if you can convince her to become a goddess, she can bestow you with power you lost out on when you died. Am I right so far?"

Sarevok said nothing. There was nothing to say. How in the Nine Hells did he manage to completely underestimate both of these women? First, it was Rana, when he was trying to ascend. Now, it was this one.

"I'm gonna assume that's a 'yes' 'cause boy, you sure do look mad. Now, here's where I get stuck. You were talking to her like she was answering, but she wasn't, at least some of the time. I'm gonna make another educated guess and say your soul thingy has something to do with the telepathy. I think I'm on the right track there, since your eyes are starting to glow. Moving on. I have to know what you meant about not wanting to lose her. I mean, I can understand wanting to sleep with her, but maaaaaan that sounds pretty deep for a guy who was just yelling about having no feelings."

"I'm going to give you a chance to drop this, little one," he replied softly. "Talk to Rana, if you think that's a good idea, but my control frays with each chirp out of you, and I will not be held responsible for your death. So walk away. Gorion would have wanted more for you than a broken neck caused by the very same man who cut him nearly in half."

"Don't you dare talk about what Gorion would have wanted," Imoen hissed, leaning forward in her seat, her nails clutching the armrests. "The wrong man got a second chance at life. If Gorion could have come back instead, don't think for a second Rana would have even entertained the notion of resurrecting you. I don't know what creepy obsessive notions you have about her, or why you have them, it doesn't even matter. She and I are going to have a long talk, and I'm going to make sure she shakes off whatever hold you have on her. You and I both know that whatever she thinks she feels for you is nothing compared to what she and I have. So stay the fuck away from her, Sarevok. Or I'll kill you."

"I believe you would. Let me leave you with something to think about, though. When was the last time Rana actually spoke fondly of your foster father? When was the last time she looked sad about his death? Bring him up in conversation and watch how fast the Queen of Deflections steers it in a different direction. Then ask yourself why. Better yet, ask her why."

Sarevok rose from the couch and looked down at her.

"And, Imoen, I think we both know that it doesn't matter if I do stay away from her, because she won't be able to stay away from me."

He walked away, cursing the girl, Rana, himself, Gorion, the gods, all of them.

If, or when, Imoen took what she thought she knew to Rana, would Rana ever want him close to her again? Now that her beloved sister suspected something between them? Now that they knew she was running around, undetectable, thanks to that damned cloak?

All that aside, she hadn't even spoken to him in a day and a half, since her attempted suicide to keep the Slayer contained. Any time he went to her door, she either ignored him or told him to go away. And the only reason he obeyed was he could sense that if he pushed, even a little, she would snap again. In what way, he didn't know, but it wasn't worth the risk.

So he'd waited.

And he'd thought.

Which led to drinking. Lots and lots of drinking.

Sarevok ignored the tingly spot in the middle of his shoulder blades where Imoen was likely glaring daggers and fantasizing about hurling fireballs and death spells. She may want him dead, but killing him wouldn't resolve things between her and Rana. And deep down, the girl was likely terrified of finding out the extent of everything she didn't know.

Which brought him right back around to the same questions and thoughts that had been plaguing him to the point of drinking.

His father's throne was out of reach. For him, but not for Rana. If Rana came to care for him, and she ascended, she could give him the second best thing to godhood. He wouldn't be a god among gods, but he could be a god among men. He could conquer. He could rule. He could obtain anything and everything he desired.

But at a price.

A price he hadn't given any thought to until he saw the cut on her wrist, her blood soaking into the wood of the floor, and that shard of glass poised at the other. Until he felt her losing a battle against something he couldn't physically contest. Until she cringed away from his touch, and he realized the absence of her left him hollow.

He'd been so close to claiming her. He knew the sounds she made. The way her body moved beneath his. He knew what her skin felt like under his hands and lips. He knew enough to know what she would be like in bed. Yet since she turned away from him, it wasn't those thoughts that kept him awake. It wasn't her body he was craving when he went to her door, and it wasn't pent up lust that made his hands clench into fists when she didn't let him in.

It was her. Just… her.

That night he first saw her dreams, how she came by the scars on her thighs… the night he found out that she struck the killing blow because she didn't remember him until it was already too late, and not because she'd remembered and hadn't cared… that night had changed everything.

No… he knew enough by now to know that, even if their childhood had never come up, if they'd never talked about it, they'd likely be in the same place they are now. He'd been drawn to her since he first laid eyes on her, and it had never changed.

"Sarevok, a word, please?"

Turning, he saw the paladin leaning out of his room, looking tired and grim.

"I'm in no mood for-"

"Please, Sarevok."

Sighing, he entered Keldorn's room and raised an eyebrow when the man locked the door behind him before pouring them both a drink.

"Are you even allowed to get drunk, paladin?"

The man looked like shit. Well, he looked about like Sarevok did, like he'd been drinking himself into Oblivion in order to escape his own thoughts.

"I actually hadn't intended to reach this point of inebriation, it happened by accident," he sighed, handing Sarevok a generous amount of whiskey.

"You know that's how most people get drunk, right?"

Keldorn shot him a look before collapsing into a chair and gesturing for Sarevok to sit.

"What's this about, paladin?"

"I received a reply from Queen-" Keldorn stopped, rubbing his eyes and huffing. "Wait, I need to backtrack. Forgive me, I haven't been able to rehearse how I was going to say this."

That piqued his interest. Queen who?

"Okay," the paladin started again. "When I sent out Rana's letters to our allies, I sent a letter to Queen Elliseme as well."

"The elf queen? Why?"

"Because I had questions that I thought she could give me answers to. I know she and Rana aren't on good terms, which is why I didn't bring this up to her."

"Get on with it, paladin," Sarevok growled when the man went quiet and his eyes became distant.

"When Rana brought you back, you should have been undead. Yet you aren't. You came back completely restored. The only other beings who utilize souls in a similar fashion are liches, so you can understand my curiosity. When you told me about the Harper raid on the temple the two of you were at as children, my interest in this matter deepened. When you, Rana, and Viconia showed up here in town after the ambush in the hot springs, I noticed you and Rana seemed… closer. As if the link between you, between her soul and her piece of it inside you, had been tightened. I noticed this again the following morning when we were discussing Rana and Imoen's real estate purchase. So I began to connect the dots."

Sarevok set his drink down, hardly touched. The paladin was referring to the two times they had used their souls to show each other things. The first time, in the Last Stop, as Rana was retiring to Imoen's room. And the second, when she had turned the tables on him and he'd accidentally revealed his plan to seduce her in order to coax her to ascend. He didn't know exactly where the man was going with this, but the paladin wasn't one to waste words on meaningless things. It made him anxious.

"What does the elf queen have to do with this, Keldorn?"

"I wrote to her, explaining what Rana had done, the way she had returned you to life. And I asked two simple questions: How was it possible? And what did it mean for the two of you going forward? The day after I sent that letter, I had a talk with Rana, asking her about how she was able to get out of the hot springs alive. How she came back from the Slayer when she'd been dying at the time. She told me about how you used your portion of her soul to help her regain control of it and transform back. She also told me that you took half her soul rather than a 'portion'."

Sarevok ignored the anger in the other man's tone. He wasn't going to apologize for taking everything he could. At the time, he would have stopped at nothing to gain as much of an advantage as he could over Rana, and weaken her in any way. There was no point in wringing his hands over it now.

"Stop stalling and say what you called me in here for."

"When I read over Queen Elliseme's reply, and took into consideration everything I've learned since writing to her, I realize now that I have to break a promise I made to Rana. That you have a right to know this, and it is not my place, nor hers, to keep this from you."

"If you don't spit it out-"

"Sarevok, the Queen and I believe that when you took half of Rana's soul, you gained immortality along with it."

Sarevok stared at the paladin.

"If this is some sort of joke, old man…"

"If you wish to know for certain, you'll have to go before the Queen, otherwise, time will certainly tell."

Sarevok's head swam, and he suddenly regretted all the whiskey he'd been drinking throughout the day and night.

Immortality…

He would never age. Time was no longer his enemy, not that he'd ever given that much thought, but still.

"Wait… you said you were breaking a promise to Rana by telling me this. So she already knew."

"We had discussed the possibility, yes. I left the telling to her for when she felt the time was right to reveal this to you, but I could not, in good conscious, continue to keep this a secret after Queen Elliseme all but confirmed it."

That little…!

Sarevok wanted to be furious with her. For daring to keep something like this from him. The problem, though, was that he understood why she would. He'd rarely given her any indication that she could trust him enough to divulge something like that.

Before he could finish wrapping his head around all this, Keldorn interrupted his thoughts.

"That's not all…"

The look on the old man's face told him that what was coming next wasn't nearly as pleasant as finding out you're immortal.

"Tell me."

"You know when I said that I had begun to connect the dots? I may have discovered something else. It's a… hunch, but one I feel strongly about."

"Are we going to dance around another topic? Must I rip the answer out of you?!"

His patience was strained to its limit after his encounter with Imoen. And the fact that Keldorn had told him about his immortality first, before whatever he was about to say now, boded ill.

"Forgive me, Sarevok, I know you're under a lot of strain right now, with what happened to Rana. It is for this very reason, along with the sensitive nature of what I'm about to say, that makes this difficult."

Reigning in his temper as best he could, Sarevok poured them both another drink. He waited until they had both finished before prodding him.

"Out with it. If you hesitate out of fear of my reaction-"

"It's not that," Keldorn sighed, running a hand over his tired face. "Alright, do you remember, at the hot springs, when you told me about the Harper raid?"

"I haven't suffered a head injury since, so yes, I remember."

"Well, I believe Gorion did more than just erase you and Rana's memories of each other. Much more."

"Then by all means, enlighten me."

Gods, the man could build suspense better than the bard could while telling one of his more dramatic stories.

"From what I'd heard of him, and had confirmed by Jaheira, Gorion was a powerful man. Had even rubbed elbows with Khelban Blackstaff, and was a known friend to Elminster. That spell he used against the two of you, especially as young as you were at the time, should have been absolute. Those memories should have been erased completely, with no way to bring them back. They were not, however. Tell me, Sarevok, before you died, while you were working to bring war to Baldur's Gate and Amn, and contending with Rana, did you ever have dreams you could not explain? Seen, or felt, things regarding her that made no sense to you? Did you find yourself drawn to her despite the animosity between the two of you? And I am only referring to the time before your death."

Sarevok took a moment to answer, because of the unease that began settling over him.

Just the other night he and Rana had discovered that they had both had that dream of her attempting to assassinate him. The one that always ended with him enraged that he woke up desiring her, rather than hating her. And he certainly couldn't deny being drawn to her, even back then, but he'd always attributed that to the taint. That his divine spark recognized the one in her. Even if he'd never felt that with the other bhaalspawn…

"Yes. To all of those questions. Why?"

"Do you know if Rana also experienced anything of the like?"

He suddenly remembered the other dream, the one Rana had had after coming back from the Slayer, at the hot springs. The one that had been a memory, of Imoen finding her standing along the northern ramparts of Candlekeep, sleepwalking there again. The one that revealed she had dreams that mirrored the deaths witnessed in her forgotten childhood.

And what Rieltar had done to Sarevok as a boy…

I've watched myself bash Dreppin's face in with a rock. I've put a kitchen knife through Phlydia's neck. I've shot arrows into Jondalar's back while he ran from me. I've taken a rope and wrapped it around Gorion's neck and pulled until his eyes bulged and his face turned purple. I've… I've… gods… I've whipped you in the back with leather until there was hardly any skin left.

"Yes."

"And it was only when she was about to die, right as you were about to finish her off, that your memories returned?"

"Yes."

"And she remembered just after striking you down, as you died?"

"Yes."

"Sarevok, I believe that, due to the nature of elves, you and Rana forged an unbreakable bond when you were children. They don't form attachments in the same way most other races do. Like we do. When they come to deeply care for a person, it's much more than what we are capable of. They live far longer than most races, so their minds, and their hearts, expect the objects of their love to live on alongside them. Did the two of you make any promises to each other? I understand you were children, but-"

"Yes, paladin, there were many promises made. In earnest," he added in case that would be another damned question.

He was on edge, each question pushing him closer to the brink. Some rational part of his mind that hadn't been saturated with alcohol berated him to leave, that he was twisted up enough inside already, and this wouldn't help. But he felt like he was finally close to having an answer. To everything.

"I think Gorion's spell, regardless of how powerful it was, couldn't override what the two of you had formed between each other. It's a common enough occurrence, as you know, that spells don't always have the exact same effect on each person, or even each time it's cast. The intent behind the spell, the ability of the caster, the resistance of the victim, be it magical or mental, all of these are contributing factors."

"I know how magic works, now what are you getting at?"

"The spell did what it was meant to do, but it wasn't perfect. It couldn't be, could it? Sarevok… I think it's possible that your souls latched on to each other, or fused in some way, as a means of countering the spell, your vows and your bond doing whatever was necessary to remain intact. You lost your memories of each other, but they were just buried, not erased. They came back, and the timing of when they returned suggests it wasn't a coincidence, that perhaps it was a last ditch effort to save you both from each other. And from yourselves."

"You're saying Rana and I have shared a soul since we were children…"

"Yes. When she brought you back from the dead, she wasn't giving you a piece of her soul. She was giving you back part of your own."

He should have known. It all made sense. It explained everything. The dreams back in Baldur's Gate. Why he couldn't kill her, outside of Candlekeep, or within. Why he'd continued to throw assassins at her rather than track her down himself. He'd told himself he couldn't take the time away from the Iron Throne, but he could have managed it if he'd really wanted to.

"Now, none of this is certain, Sarevok…"

"No. I… I think you're right. It explains much."

"You're taking this better than I expected."

Sarevok snorted and put his head in his hands.

"A month or more ago, Sir Keldorn, I would have cut out your tongue and forced you to eat it for daring to even imagine uttering any of this to me."

"And now? What's changed?"

Sighing, he knocked back the rest of the whiskey and looked at the other man.

"She wasn't supposed to be like this. None of this has turned out like I'd expected. Before, I could plan out anything weeks, months, years, in advance. Predicting the outcomes of a hundred different scenarios and reacting to each before they've even happened. She defies reason and ignores every sensible move she could make in favor of doing things her own mad way. And yet it works. She shouldn't have survived this long. She shouldn't have been able to accomplish most of what she's done, yet here she is. Hanging on by a thread, yes, but still here."

"While I'm not disagreeing with you, you didn't answer my question. What's changed?"

He knew what the man wanted to hear. Even though they both knew the answer, the paladin wanted him to say it. If it were any other man, Sarevok would have kept his mouth shut, and then broken Keldorn's, but the old man wasn't insisting on an answer out of pettiness or even some kind of self-righteous inclination. He knew the answer, but he wanted to make sure Sarevok knew it, too.

"Me. I changed."

Neither spoke again for some time. Both wrapped up in their own thoughts. When they did finally talk again, it was to discuss the best way to break all of this to Rana.

Eventually, Sarevok rose and went to leave, stopping at the door to tell the paladin one last thing.

"By the way, Imoen has your wedding ring."

Later that evening, Sarevok sat in his room, contemplating his conversations with the little menace and the paladin.

He'd been running a whetstone over his sword, something he hadn't been able to do of late, for over an hour, and despite the weapon's generic look, he was certain it could cut through stone like butter now if he'd wanted it to.

After speaking with Keldorn, he'd paused by Rana's room on the way to his own, but he hadn't tried to knock. If for no other reason than he didn't know what to say. She needed to know that Imoen had been in the room with them during the Slayer's uprising attempt. That she'd puzzled out a good deal of what she'd seen and heard. Rana needed to be prepared for that eventual confrontation with her sister, because if the brat sprung it on her like she'd done with him, it could go very, very, badly.

Of course, Sarevok already knew what would happen the moment he told her that Imoen knew. That wall that he'd spent weeks tearing down, faster than she could build it back, would be right back up, taller and better fortified than he'd be able to contend with.

He'd lose her. He'd saved her from the Slayer, and from her taking her own life to stop it, but he was still going to lose her. And now, he understood why that bothered him so much.

Keldorn had offered to tell Rana about his discovery, but Sarevok had refused. He didn't know if telling her would be the last nail in the coffin of his ambitions, their relationship, or whatever this was, or if this would be his saving grace, but it would be better if it came from him. There was quite a bit the paladin wasn't aware of, more evidence that supported the theory, that he could use if she tried to deny it. He doubted she would, though.

A soft rap on his door interrupted his brooding.

"It's me."

"Come in."

She looked tired. Not drunk, though, so she was obviously doing better than he was.

Rana looked at the sword in his lap for a long moment. When she finally dragged her eyes up to his, there was nothing behind them that hinted at her thoughts, and she glanced away almost immediately.

"Come with me. I have something for you," she said, her voice cracking from misuse, and her tone almost mechanical.

"Wait, we need to talk-"

She turned and walked out of the doorway as if she hadn't heard him. Cursing, he rose to follow her.

When she led him into her room, Rook leapt off the dresser to twine around his legs. The gray kitten seemed to have grown in the short time since he'd seen him last.

"Rana…"

She didn't look at him, and she shifted away from him when he said her name, but he couldn't tell if it was intentional or if she'd even heard him. Gesturing to her bed, she moved to lean against her dresser. When he could finally tear his eyes from her and see what lay on the sheets, his heart stopped.

The sheath was different, but he recognized the dark red pommel instantly.

Slowly, he went to the bed and picked up the Sword of Chaos. The familiar weight of it in his hands, greater than the sword he'd been wielding since returning to life, brought back a torrent of memories. Almost reverently, he slid the blade from its sheath, and was pleased that it was still just as perfect as the day it was forged. The nearly black steel seemed to swallow the low candlelight of the room, and when he ran his fingers over the surface of the weapon, a jolt ran up his arm, as if touching it had awoken it.

"Some of your followers smuggled it out of Baldur's Gate, before your ashes could even settle, at the behest of Irenicus."

"Irenicus? What would he have wanted with my sword?"

Rana hiked one shoulder and crossed her arms across her chest.

"I can't remember the details, exactly. Something about wanting to study the blood that stained it. Yours and mine, I suppose. Perhaps to verify our divinity. I found it as I was trying to escape."

"And you kept it all this time? And maintained it? Why?"

Another shrug, and he noticed she still wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Seemed a waste to sell something like that. Figured I wouldn't be able to get what it must be worth anyway. As for keeping it clean, I wasn't going to mistreat a weapon because of its master."

"I see."

He didn't doubt there was more to it than that, but he didn't press her.

His own blood had gone into the forging of the weapon. It had been made just for him, exactly to his specifications, and the cost of the materials had been steep. Winksi was the one who'd seen to its completion, choosing a dwarf that his step-father had betrayed to forge it, and the result was still nothing short of a masterpiece.

"I'll give you two a minute alone," Rana said, with a trace of humor in her voice.

She ghosted out of the room before he could stop her. Sighing, he slid the the sword back in its sheath, still marveling that it was here. He'd given it only a fleeting thought now and again, assuming it lost, and lamenting it when the sword he wielded now didn't feel anywhere near the same.

Rook hopped up on the bed, sniffing delicately at the pommel before throwing his head against his hand, and kept headbutting him until he scratched behind his ears.

"Spoiled, useless creature," he grunted, still petting him.

The kitten bounded across the bed, over the nightstand, leaping onto the dresser, and finally climbing his way up onto the mantle above the fireplace, and the small fire that burned within it. Sarevok gazed at the embers, lost in thought, wondering why Rana chose to give him his sword now.

Persistent merps! eventually made him look up in annoyance, just in time to watch Rook bat the ring that sat up there onto the floor. It rolled across the wood and stopped at his feet. Bending over, he plucked it up and examined it again.

Another thing that Rana had kept, with no explainable reason why, and a thousand reasons not to.

A letter joined the ring as the irritating feline swiped it off the mantle as well. Rana's name scrawled across the front had him opening it, not even caring if she walked in and caught him reading it. He'd just say her damned cat insisted he read it.

Some unknown, unpleasant feeling burned through his veins, almost like anger, but somehow worse, when he skimmed over the contents of the letter, and saw at the bottom who it was from.

Yoshimo.

Tamoko's brother.

Rana's former lover.

Hands snatched the letter from his own, and before he could react, Rana tossed the letter into the flames.

"What are you-"

"I'd forgotten it was up there," she replied, cutting him off.

Watching the paper curl and blacken before burning into ash, he expected her to look angry, or triumphant, or sad, or something, but she still wore that numb, blank expression.

"I found it when I was sorting my bag. Reading it set me off, so I went into town, following the pull of another bhaalspawn. That's why I killed her, the woman Keldorn had mentioned at the meeting a few days ago. I needed to get the anger out somehow. I'd meant to burn it when I got back, but you pissed me off, with your speech about the futility of happiness and love and what not, and not letting me catch those kittens, so I forgot."

"Rana, we need to-"

"I'm sorry I never told you about your sword," she said, cutting him off yet again, and turning away from him. "And that I hadn't returned it to you sooner."

"Rana, turn around and look at me."

"I don't think it retained all of its power, but it should serve you better than the one you have now," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, walking away from him.

"My dhaer, look at me."

"It's getting late, I'd like to retire now. Take your sword-"

"LOOK AT ME!"

She stopped, her back to him, just before her bed. He saw her shoulders sag as if she sighed, before she turned around. She couldn't cover up the pain and weariness in her eyes fast enough this time.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything-"

"Don't lie to me, Rana. You've been locked up in here for days, and then once you finally crawl out, it's to give me my sword and then kick me right back out again, without even looking me in the eyes while you do it."

"After what happened, Sarevok, I think it's better if you stay away."

"Better for whom?" He asked, taking a step closer to her.

"Look, would it make you happy if I said that, after the thing with the Slayer, I've never been as close to wanting ascension as I am now?"

"What? Why now?"

"There's a whole lot of pain that I won't ever have to endure again if I'm a god," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

It suddenly struck him how young she still was. It was easy to forget when you laid out the list of foes she'd defeated, and all of her other near-impossible achievements.

Then the realization of what she'd said, what she'd meant, sunk it.

"You're serious?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, and she straightened, obviously ready for a fight.

"What? This is what you want, isn't it? For me to tell you that you were right, I've been an idiot not to see why being a goddess would be a much better alternative than remaining here. I mean, looking back, you shoulda worked it from a different angle, it wouldn't have been difficult to sell me on the notion of no more pain and suffering."

She had begun to pace as she spoke, and he found himself relieved that she was growing angrier with each word. He could take her fury. Anything was better than that wall of indifference.

"Is that what you've been in here doing? Contemplating ascension?"

"No, I've been in here brushing up on my knitting," she snapped.

Before she could speak again, he went and locked her door. Having just remembered Imoen and her cloak, he didn't want to run the risk of her slipping in here and eavesdropping again. He had much to say, and he'd prefer to do it without an audience.

"What are you doing?" She asked him, her voice suddenly wary.

"Making sure we're not barged in on," he replied, choosing not to bring up her sister at the moment.

"There's nothing more that needs to be said, Sarevok. I'm seriously considering becoming a goddess. You win. If you push, though, I'll push back and change my mind again. As for… the other part of what you want… I'm not safe enough to be alone with anymore."

His sudden laugh made her eyes blaze with rage.

"The fuck are you laughing at?"

"The gods hate me, I'm sure of it now."

"I don't follow."

Setting his sword down carefully atop her dresser, he stepped closer to her.

"How long I've waited to hear you even admit to just thinking about becoming a goddess. How many times I'd fantasized of the power I would wield as your general. And now, now, you choose to cave in, when I've finally begun to realize what was missing from those fantasies."

Rana looked up at him, confused and irritated.

"What's missing, then?"

Reaching out, he took her hand and raised it, palm up, and pressed the ring of protection into it.

"When I gave you this, I told myself the reason was that it would make it easier to frame you for Rieltar's murder. While that was part of it, it wasn't the only reason. Not even the main reason."

Rana looked down at the ring, then closed her hand around it, squeezing it tightly before looking back up at him.

"Then why did you give it to me?"

"I could tell you a half-truth, that you were mine to kill, and I didn't want my step-father to steal that honor, but... little one, I couldn't stand the thought of Rieltar hurting you. Of doing any of the things he did to me, or to my step-mother. I wanted him dead, and I wanted you blamed for it, but I wanted you to walk out of that encounter unscathed."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Why are you giving me my sword now?"

"Fair enough" she mumbled, and slid the ring onto her pointer finger.

He hadn't expected her to wear it again, but seeing it on her pale hand pleased him.

"You didn't answer the question, though," she said softly, glancing up at him.

"Which one?"

"What's missing? Why aren't you overjoyed that I'm thinking about godhood? Or are you just bummed that I think it wise if you keep your distance? That's it, isn't it? Telling you that you can't get all handsy took the wind out of your sails."

"Is that really what you want? For me to stay away? You'll lead this group but remain apart, not allowing anyone close again?"

"Funny. I tell you it might be best to stay away, and you automatically assume that applies to everyone else, as well."

That feeling he felt while reading over Yoshimo's letter came roaring back.

"Little one, if I can't have you, what makes you think I'll stand by and let anyone else so much as touch you?"

"That's not… wait, you think I'm trying to say I wanna keep my options open? Or something? Shit, Sarevok, are you jealous? Is that what's happening right now?"

Is that what that was? Jealousy? He wasn't accustomed to feeling it in regards to a rival. He didn't like the feeling. At all.

Rana threw her head back and laughed… and laughed… and laughed; and if he weren't irritated by how derailed this conversation had become, he'd savor the sound of it. Somehow, she was beginning to show signs of her old self again, which meant she wasn't out of his reach just yet.

"Are you done?"

Rana shook her head, still chuckling, and wiped at her eyes.

"Not even close. This is great."

"My jealousy amuses you?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Really? You're so self-assured and arrogant and used to being the biggest, baddest guy in the room that seeing you get jealous over the thought of another man is… well, hilarious."

Scowling down at her only made her laugh harder. Scooping her up to set her on her desk shut her up really fast, though.

"Did you already forget what I said about getting handsy?" She demanded, bristling, but suddenly unable to look him in the eyes again.

"You keep steering this in a completely different direction than I intend, and I need you to focus."

"Like this is gonna help," she mumbled, crossing her arms and avoiding looking at him. "Can you, like, back up a bit?"

Planting his hands on the desk, on either side of her, he leaned in closer.

"Can you look at me while making that request?"

When she closed her eyes, sighed, and gave a barely imperceptible shake of her head, he finally understood why she'd been trying to keep space between them. The large amount of alcohol that was still in his system was making him slow. And he pounced on the idea that it was also behind his random bout of irrational jealousy, as well.

"Are we going to have to do this again, Rana? Where you push me away, pretending that's what you want, until I grow tired of it and call your bluff?"

"You make it sound like I'm predictable."

"In this one way you are. I propose we skip over this part and pretend we already got it out of the way."

"Oh? Guess that means we don't have to kiss and maul each other until someone interrupts us, then."

The wood beneath his palms groaned as he fought not to correct that omission.

"Little one, if we don't skip over that part, I'll forget what it was I've spent the last several hours thinking of saying to you. And I'm killing the next person that interrupts us, just so we're clear."

"Fine," she sighed. "I want you to back up so I can listen to what you have to say without being distracted, not because I don't want you close. There. Better?"

"Yes," he replied, and straightened up.

She muttered something about him being a bossy asshole, but he ignored it in favor of collecting his thoughts. As usual, this wasn't going anything like he'd planned. If Rana factored into anything whatsoever, he needed to just accept that he couldn't anticipate how anything would go.

"Now, where was I?"

"You still haven't explained why you don't seem happy about me thinking about ascension. I mean, after everything, the fact that you're not ecstatic makes me want to hit you. I've fought you on this for what seems like ages now and I finally admit defeat and you're just like, 'meh'. Seriously, Sarevok, no more deflecting. I need to know what happened to you between that night and now. I need to know why-"

"Every time I've thought about leading your armies against your foes, crushing those who oppose your rule as the goddess of murder, there's something… off. When I think about the end of the day, once the battle has been won, and I retire to my bed, I feel like I've forgotten something. When I imagine fighting, or planning, or anything, it feels like I'm missing some crucial detail, and the absence of it should be obvious to me. Sometimes… I'm not quite as clever as I think I am."

He sighed and reached out to brush her tangled hair away from her face.

"You… are what's missing."

"That only just now occurred to you?" She asked softly, tilting her head to study him. "Genius, how am I supposed to be there with you if I'm a goddess?"

"As I said. Sometimes, I'm not as clever."

"So what finally made you put two and two together?"

"That is… a long story."

"We haven't spoken in, like, two days. That's not enough time to accumulate 'a long story'."

"Around you it is," he grumbled. "This goes further back than just these past few days. Much further. It's a culmination of many different things, and I may have had some help in piecing it all together."

"Well, don't get too specific on me here. I wouldn't want you to overwhelm me with all these details," she replied dryly.

I spent too long talking to the paladin.

"Of course," she continued. "We are due for an interruption, if you wanna just hold off a bit. Or maybe that only happens when things are getting physical."

"We could find out," he said huskily. "It may be best to have this conversation when I haven't been drinking all day, anyway."

"Wow, this must be heavy then if it's driven you to drinking indiscriminately. No wonder you've been deflecting and are ready to put this off for another time."

"Or perhaps I've just grown weary of being locked in your room and we're still wearing all of our clothes."

Rana let out a surprised laugh, and didn't fight him when he tugged her to the edge of the dresser, opening her legs so he could step between them.

"This is the part where I say this is a bad idea," she whispered, her voice already strained.

"And then I tell you to tell me to stop," he replied, brushing her hair away from her neck so he could explore it with his mouth.

"Sarevok," she breathed, and he gripped her hips tightly to pull her even closer to him in response to the sound of his name spoken from her like that.

When he felt her hands slip beneath his shirt, her nails gently raking down his stomach, he captured her lips with his own, already close to tearing away their clothes and taking her right here.

"Any second now," he growled in between heated kisses.

"Ten gold says it's Viconia again," she whimpered, arching her back as he began to work her shirt up.

"Fifteen says it's Imoen," he replied irritably.

Turns out, they were both wrong.

"Hey, Rana, you up?" Valygar's voice rang out from the other side of her door.

"Pity. I liked him," Sarevok sighed, reaching for his sword.

Rana swatted his hand aside then hopped off the desk and went to let the ranger in.

"We called it, so you don't get to be mad."

"The fact that I have to spend another night trying to sleep in this condition is more than enough reason to be mad."

She chuckled as she unlocked the door.

"You have only yourself to blame."

"And you."

She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a "who, me?" kind of look.

"Ah, good, you're still awake," Valygar sighed with relief as he stepped into the room, then froze when he saw Sarevok was also present.

"I did it again, didn't I? Interrupted something?"

"Yes," they chorused back, with varying degrees of annoyance in both their voices.

"Well, seeing as I'm still breathing, that must either mean you both really do love me, or I didn't come at the worst possible time."

"You've definitely appeared at worse times," Rana agreed, clearly referring to the sparring incident.

"Right. Well, I'm glad you're both here, I wanted to tell you this before I reported to Keldorn and the others. I figured you have a right to hear it first."

"Wait, did you only just now get back from that ranger outpost?" Rana asked in surprise.

"Yeeeeees. Wow, Rana, you only just now realized I was gone longer than I said I'd be? I'm wounded."

"Not yet you're not," Sarevok growled, still annoyed with the man.

Valygar flashed him a tired grin.

"Guess you two have been too busy to notice?"

Sarevok and Rana exchanged a look.

"What? What I miss?"

"You first, tell us what you found out with the other rangers."

"Okay, bad news is that none of them knew where Abazigal's hiding out at. They did notice a large mercenary army in the area some time ago, heading towards the mountains. They tracked them, but since they were moving away from the village, they eventually returned to the outpost."

"And the good news?"

"Well, I don't know if this is exactly good news. Um, y'all might wanna sit down for this."

They just stared at him. If he had any idea what had transpired since his departure, he would understand why his suggestion could almost be funny.

"Suit yourselves. The rangers told me about an area southeast of the outpost, about a day's ride from town. They haven't been able to get close enough to investigate, something about the place being cursed, but from what I was told, and later found out when I went there myself, I believe that's where those missing children are."

"What kind of area?"

Valygar leaned against the desk and took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"It's a place called Tor Albtraum."

Sarevok felt like something had slammed into his chest. That name…

Tor Albtraum…

Why did it sound so familiar?

Rana's gasp told him she had also heard it before.

"Does that name ring a bell?"

"Yes," Rana answered, brows furrowed in confusion. "Dunno why though. It's just like the name of this town, Tor Niedrig. I've heard it somewhere before, but for the life of me, I can't remember where."

"Tor Albtraum is the name of an old temple of Bhaal," Valygar explained gently, watching them both. "It was sacked by Harpers around fifteen years ago. Now, it's a temple of Cyric, led by the same man who led it years before."

Rana sank down onto her bed, raked her hand through her hair, and looked up at Sarevok. He looked back at her, with his heart hammering in his chest, and his gaze slid to the Sword of Chaos. Her eyes followed his, before she looked back at him.

No words passed between them, out loud or within their soul, but they both knew what the other was thinking. Both knew that the next part of their journey would have to be taken alone. Just the two of them.

"Valygar," Sarevok murmured, turning back to the man. "What was the man's name?"

Vengeance…

At long last, after all these years…

They were going home.

"High Priest Jorval."