Calista shouldn't have wished to live in more interesting times.
In three agonizingly long days, she took down a group of Githyanki sworn to protect Orpheus in the Astral Plane. There, she stomped out an 'Astral-Touched Tadpole' from the Emperor, imagining that the manipulative tentacle fuck had proposed with it. He voiced disapproval, and then went on about…well, she stopped listening after he acted like a rejected, pampered teenager. If she wanted to befriend tentacled monsters, she would fuck an actual octopus.
She could have snapped the Emperor's neck and thrown chunks of his flesh into a stew and he knew it. The sweat on his brow, quick pace of words, and taking a 180 from 'fool' to delivering compliments? Their minds were linked to the tadpole and prism, so nothing hid from him, not even the unsolicited urges.
Rivington lay bereft of hope, overcrowded with refugees who bore diseases and lacked basic hygiene. Karlach and Shadowheart begged her to help the people. Shadowheart had never been one to ask many favors, and when that purple emblem on her hand lit up the dawn sky, Calista gave in. Children were saved from explosive toy donations, they solved the source of carrier pigeons disappearing courtesy of a hungry cat, participated in delectable circus activities, and interrogated a church that opened a can of worms. One thing led to another and they began hunting down a list of people that assassins were after.
Strange shit always started with churches.
Calista's favorite escapade was ending of a doppelganger who took on the appearance of a dreadful clown. Astarion hated clowns as much as she did, if not more. Children should never have to look upon such horror. Not that she could talk, being a jaded murderer and all.
And now she stumbled through Wyrm's Crossing in the hopes of reaching Baldur's Gate - a deplorable town that made breathing embarrassingly impossible. The streets bustled with people, leaving little room to maneuver. Merchants set up shop between every nook and cranny, offering items from nameless trinkets to magically imbued armor. Large buildings stood shoulder to shoulder with enough of a gap for one person to sidle through. Stray animals searched for scraps of food while mothers scolded their children for feeding them.
The people here were rude and impatient, there were hardly any spaces to host trees or flowers, and if she smelled grilled fish one more bloody time…
Wanting to remain anonymous, she purchased a red cloak that concealed her body down to her boots and readjusted the hood to keep the sunlight from scorching her eyes. She actually missed the darkness of the Shadowlands.
"You do realize you paid more than full price for a cloak that doesn't compliment your fair features. If anything, it makes you look…less appealing, more suspicious. It's like you want to stand out." Astarion's words were a knife to her chest as he skillfully weaved through the stampede of people with ease.
"Fuck you," she glowered in response, readying her fists for the next jackass that bumped into her. "I'm a master haggler. Don't be jealous because you don't understand it."
Astarion tossed his head back with a sharp laugh. "Jealous? Over that woeful display? Perhaps on a planet where more is less, you'd be considered a 'master haggler'. Had you only asked that I pickpocket it for you. I'm feeling unusually charitable today."
Her fists were rearing to be charitable by punching the derisive rogue. With a deep exhale, her fingers loosened and Astarion's lucky nose was spared. "Enlighten me, Astarion. What is the appeal of this place? Rivington harbored boundless misfortune souls, yet this place feels worse." Calista snapped off a growl when a few people aggressively pushed past her. She turned on her heels, fists at the ready until Astarion gently lowered her arms. "I dare another rat fucker to do that."
Astarion's shoulders rose and fell, and he loudly exhaled through his nose. "Or what? You'll kill them? Send the entire bloody keep after us? That would make for an interesting escape, so I can hardly blame you. Our recent days have lacked the excitement that being on the edge of death usually brings..."
Calista stopped outside a peculiar building to hear people singing wildly out of key, tankards clanking together, and the alluring melody of a well-tuned lute. Either people were genuinely happy, or drunk out of their minds to forget about how mundane their day-to-day lives were. "What is this place?"
"No. We're not going in there." Astarion protested with a click of his tongue and crossed his arms.
"Something you wish to share?"
"No, not particularly. Is this because we haven't…?" He swallowed thickly and frowned.
He was hiding something, likely involving his traumatizing past, so it didn't feel right to press him. Usually places that served alcohol, hired talented bards, and hosted elaborate dance parties possessed a wealth of information. Still, she didn't know what to ask for.
"You know that's not it. I only want you, Astarion. I don't care how long we wait," she lied. She longed to be an exhibitionist, rip off his clothes in the center of the busy street, and ride him without pause for two days. "I want to ask about strange happenings. We have a slew of targets to find, no idea who the killers are, and I need to find someone who knows anything about me."
Astarion bowed his head with gratitude and turned to eye the busy building. "When was the last time those urges of yours came to say hello?"
The thought hadn't occurred to her. The urge to kill quieted the last few days, which was both pleasant and alarming. "Not since I ate the troll."
A citizen paused, brimming with bewilderment, and ran for dear life when Calista shot them with a nasty expression.
"Hmm. I'm not sure if we should be rejoicing or keeping a sharper eye on you, my dear. That grim reality aside, this abomination is Sharess' Caress. Iconic in this sordid little town and mostly used as a house of…pleasure, preying on the truly weak and desperate. Can't say that I fancy seeing it again."
"You've been here to a house of pleasure? Surprising," she remarked dryly, the image of them putting on a show for the world to see filling her mind.
"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean? I came here to lure away prey, not to engage in what one can only assume is overpaid sex. Not once did I…" Astarion trailed off. He froze like a statue, attention fixated on the open door.
Calista whacked his lack of bicep which prompted him to shake his head a few times and grab hold of her wrist. "Quick as a blade. I don't care to linger for more than a minute."
Together, they marched up narrow stone steps and into the disorienting brothel. Lush red carpets lined the floors soft enough that her boots sank into them. Two long desks sat on both sides where clients bombarded the concierges with questions. One disgruntled dwarf slurred his words together, his tone dripping with anger since his 'favored object' had disappeared. Calista bit her tongue to avoid a fight and moved along until something elongated and fluffy brushed against her boots.
The disinterested rogue mapped out the floor, his lips curled downwards with disgust. "This place reeks of sexual disease, and not in the good way."
"...The fuck is the good way?"
"Hmm?"
Astarion had lost his mind. He probably thought out loud without realizing it, an interesting habit of his.
"Nevermind. I'm not here to kink shame." Calista crouched down to admire a brown cat with piercing blue eyes who patiently sat before her. If she had to choose one creature to never bring harm to, it would be a cat. They always spoke their minds, were pleasant to look at, and she never tired of their conversations. She reached out to pet the creature who appeared offended as it took a jump back with a hiss. "You're a sheepish one."
"Sheepish? I am the real lady of the house. Royalty and I expect to be treated as such," the cat began to groom itself, folding one paw over an ear. It gazed into her soul, and said in the most arrogant tone, "I am receiving compliments at this time. You're welcome to make me an offering."
Lovely. She found Astarion's twin in the form of a cat. "Very well. With just one strike, your claws could bring an entire army to its knees, proving that you are worthy of being their one true ruler. All will bow down to you, turning against anyone who dares to speak ill of you. You'll sit upon a throne of their bones with an abundance of fresh fish at your feet. Never will you go hungry."
"My, my! What a flattering compliment, and one most correct. I have not unleashed my hidden powers as ruling is far too much work. The paperwork, the problems, the incessant whining of commoners. The filth who frequent this establishment would do well to follow in your example. You also speak Cat quite elegantly."
"Cat language runs in my blood. The filth here isn't worthy of admiration. What can you tell me about them?"
"A broad topic, but I have seen every type imaginable. Beggars, magistrates, royalty, devils. His very presence offends me, the devil. A marvelous fashion sense, but smells of the Hells."
Raphael, and in a mad sex house. Uncharacteristic, but maybe there was more to him than childish riddles and an iron will to coerce stupid people into selling their souls.
"Where can I find this devil?"
"An inquisitive creature, you are. You will find a flight of stairs straight ahead. Climb until you reach the highest level. Once there, a door leads outside. Take it, and then to the right you will follow until you find a door that reads 'Devil's Den'. I would be most grateful if you rid this place of his abhorrent stench."
"You've been most helpful, Your Highness. Thank you."
"And your company has been tolerable, my new favorite pet."
New favorite pet? Finally, a furball she didn't care for.
Calista rose and quirked a brow to witness Astarion's mouth agape and fingers sprawled with arms extended. Tilting her head, she asked, "Everything alright?"
"Alright? No, everything is not 'alright'. Every bloody time you speak to animals, I haven't any idea what in the hells you're going on about. Instead, I look like the weirdo who is friends with a crazy lady crawling on hands and knees meowing like some kind of mental cat. When others gawk at you, there's only so much I can tell them." Astarion spouted, crazily waving his hands around. "My respect for you can only go lower."
"You mean it can't go any lower? Thanks for giving me the highest respect." Calista chuckled to see Astarion scowl. Her newfound news was going to further sour the mood. "Turns out Raphael's lingering about. What say we pay our devil a visit?"
Astarion took an unsettling amount of time to formulate a response like he had just seen the ghost of a former lover. In a low, agitated voice he answered, "What choice do we have? I refuse to leave you alone with that insufferable miscreant. Where did our poor excuse for company run off to?"
How did she fail to realize they were missing? She was the real 'poor excuse' for company. They regularly showered her with compliments and she repaid them by forgetting they existed. "Guess I lost them in the crowds, whoops. Doubt they'd like it here, but Shadowheart can surprise me now and again."
"Clever. Now, let's get no useful information from that pesky devil!" The visibly irritated vampire stormed ahead without hearing directions. Eventually he circled back, extending an arm so that Calista took the lead.
She stifled a chuckle and turned every corner until a wooden staircase appeared in her peripherals. Heeding the mean cat's instructions, she found herself outside before the 'Devil's Den' sign. A lone potted plant sat outside the door - an homage to the sad exterior of Wyrm's Crossing.
"What do you think you're doing?" The Emperor's voice echoed in the back of her head. Anything that fucker rioted against, she was for. She had half a mind to remove the prism from her concealed rucksack and chuck it over the bridge leading to Baldur's Gate.
But in case he truly offered protection, keeping him around was unfortunately paramount.
Once she touched the shoddily-made door, ember eyes of indifference watched as she nearly into his humble abode.
Raphael waved a finger with a shake of his head. It didn't take long for his lips to curve into his iconic, conman smile that made him appear friendly enough, but while also judging you on a scale of one to hellishly stupid.
After forcing herself into the lavishly designed lair, with hundreds of red petals scattered around the finely carved stone floor leading up to a heated pool large enough to bathe an elephant, her mind went blank.
No Emperor, no looming thoughts of death, nothing.
"I wondered when you'd traipse into my lair," Raphael straightened his back and looked behind Astarion, his brows knitted upwards. "Will the rest of your group be joining us?"
"They're probably being reprimanded for going through doors unknowingly off limits," she shrugged. "Why is someone of your stature in a whore house? Couldn't coerce a woman into contractual fucking and had to settle for paid services?"
Astarion tried to hold back a laugh but lost the battle once the sound came out muffled through his gloved fist. She must have taken the words from his mouth.
"You break into my den, uninvited-"
"You moved aside and allowed passage. Maybe the city scribe can double-check your contracts so you understand the words you're writing," she smirked, arms crossed as Raphael grunted his disapproval.
"You pushed past me, Bhaalspawn."
Calista and Astarion exchanged baffled glances, asking in unison, "Come again?"
"You mean to tell me you didn't know? You come insulting the mind that carries answers to the knowledge you seek." The devil whispered closely to her ear and then began waltzing about his quarters. "Do you have indescribable urges that compel you to kill the most innocent of people? Are your thoughts often suffocating you until acting on impulse? You've lost your wits entirely, spawn."
Calista gasped and fell into a red chair. A Bhaalspawn? Gods, that explained her symptoms. The followers of Bhaal were known to murder for the fun of it, each one a sacrifice to appease their god. The questions created discomfort lodged in her throat, unwilling to rise out of her.
"I'm sorry, what? Calista? A Bhaalspawn?" Astarion's features settled after laughing incredulously for a whole two seconds. "Oh shit. It all adds up. This whole time I've been traveling with a devout follower of the 'god of ruin'. I'm…not surprised. You had the answers written all over you."
Raphael offered her a golden goblet filled with the reddest wine ever seen. Without mulling it over, she snatched it up and devoured it in one sitting. The bitter taste of fermented grapes burned her throat with each gulp. A sweet aftertaste from the magic liquid had her wanting more. She dreamed of placing a bottle of it in a cropped field far from civilization to worship it in all its glory. Fuck every deity, for she had found a new one - a better one that didn't make her psychopathic.
"I figured you wouldd like that one. 'Dulcis Amplexus' translates to Sweet Embrace, and is considered an aphrodisiac throughout Icewind Dale. I went through a lot of trouble to find it."
Calista hiccuped into her forearm. That form of chivalry had to have a catch. Icewind Dale was more than a two-week trip by horse. Only skilled wizards arrived there faster, and even then they would require an ample amount of time to recover. "And you wasted it on me. You want to make a deal. What is it?"
"Hello, yes, I'm standing right here! Although I don't trust anything from a devil, so no thank you on the wine. But let's circle back to the fact my wicked little thing is a Bhaalspawn!" Astarion stood halfway between her and Raphael, spinning from one person to the next and looking as though they were both lunatics. "Fine. We'll discuss this later when you're less…distracted."
Calista blinked twice at him and then zoned out, watching as steam fizzled out of the pool.
"There just so happens to be a deal I'm keen to discuss, but to show that I am an ally, I will first answer one question of your choosing."
Calista shut her eyes, concentrating on the jumble of topics roaring through her head. "What role did I play with the Bhaal cultists?"
"You were Bhaal's Chosen and sacrificed a great deal in his name. Rumor has it you ruled over the cult until you disappeared. Beyond that, I know little. Now, a deal is a deal, and I upheld my end of the bargain."
"I didn't make a deal with you. You're bad at listening comprehension," Calista jumped out of the chair, frowned at her empty wine glass, and then placed it on the floor. "I'll hear you out."
A half-smile graced the devil's crooked lips, his hands folded beside his back as he spoke calmly. "I have a collection of powerful items locked away from mortal eyes. Among them, one item is missing - the Crown of Karsus. I wish to use its power, but it's otherwise been compromised. I can offer you the Orphic Hammer to free Orpheus, and in exchange, you will bring me the crown."
Foreign politics bored Calista, so she had no use for the crown or hammer. He should have proposed a way to permanently entrap the Emperor to spare her from ever having to suffer another one of his grating lectures.
"The Crown of Karsus in the hands of a devil?!" Astarion broke into a fit of obscene laughter and walked for the door, body twisted to keep her in his sights. "My darling Calista and I will be taking our leave now. What a day."
"You do not speak for the revered Bhaalspawn. She raised an army while all you did was give into Cazador's commands like a child desperate for their father's praises. How many times has your favored ally proven to be a valuable asset in comparison to yourself?"
At least Calista didn't drink enough magic wine to make her defy logic or to silence her anger. No one dared to insult Astarion in front of her. Not those who knew how much she relished every aspect of him.
"Talk down to Astarion again and see what happens, prick. We're done here. My time is wasted on you. If you want the crown so bad, go and claim it yourself." Calistas jaw clecnehed so tightly, an unplesant pressure bloomed throughout her cheeks and teeth. Anyone who tried to destroy Astarion, either verbally or with a sword, could die for all she cared.
"Ah, she finally listens to reason," Astarion snapped, his body tense and condescension running through his words, only to be met with Calista's patented death glare. He lowered his guard and averted gaze towards the balcony outside, voice in barely a whisper. "Shutting up, but I am right."
"You'll be back when you realize you are nothing against the Elderbrain. You have no chance of making it out alive." Raphael warned.
How did giving him the crown miraculously raise their chances? Devils were the literal worst.
"My chances of success are higher than yours are of getting laid tonight. And after I destroy the Elderbrain from the inside out, you'll wish you've never been born. The first on my personal list of targets. You'll beg for me to spare you as I cover you in lacerations so deep, no amount of magic can heal you, and we'll see just how generous I really am." Calista sneered and marched out the door, hand in hand with Astarion.
She shuddered hearing Raphael's furious scream echo throughout the city, prompting wandering faces to look up in their direction. She brought it on herself. "Ignorant asshole. You're more valuable than I am. He doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Often I'd agree with you, but not this time. We'd have died countless times by now if not for you, and the more people blather on about it, their words start to feel…right. Until I've ascended, I'm…well, I'm nothing, really. The blasted devil is right, darling. We have as much of a chance at winning this thing as a Kobold does becoming a dragon."
Raphael's words took a toll on Astarion's pride, and his mournful eyes caused her heart to skip a beat. They were both wrong, for the curse made her more of a liability than anyone in their group. Even if she became the greatest druid to ever live, the Elderbrain commanded an army of unfathomable strength. Their enemy had power beyond comprehension.
The Emperor attempted to reconnect with her, but she ignored him. He served as a nuisance and nothing more.
All that mattered now was Astarion.
She ran down the stairs and slipped into an alleyway behind the building, tracking Astarion's movements. His head wasn't held high in the sky with a devilish grin. His pace slowed and his grip on her weakened.
Never had she seen him so…defeated and uncertain of anything. Usually he shrugged off the insults and eagerly begged her to go find people to fight, for that was his way of dealing with whatever torment ensnared him.
"What?" Astarion analyzed her body and forced a wry grin. "I'm not so pathetic I'd be wounded over that idiot devil's words, if that's what your pretty little head is worried over. I've never been better, darling!"
"You're right. If you ever ceased to speak, that's when I'll worry." Calista threw both arms around Astarion's shoulders, feeling them move with her touch, and stood on her tiptoes. Her eyes traced the outline of his pursed lips, inching closer and closer into him. Once he moved in to kiss her, his breath hot and heavy against her lips, she instead jerked her head down to nibble on his neck.
"What in Strahd's name was in that wine?! People are easily readable creatures, except for you. I never know if you're brimming with contempt, about to commit carnage, or randomly aroused, and who could blame you? I am the whole package, you know." His narcissism reached new heights, but godsdamn it all, his voice low, husky, and coated in arrogance had a way of frothing her loins.
He used one hand to throw back her hood and tip up her chin with a predatory smile that showed his fangs. "Such a wicked little thing."
Although they hadn't engaged in sinful nights of passion since Astarion opened up about how sex made him feel under Cazador's control, the two caught themselves stealing kisses from one another. The kisses often led to heated makeout sessions and as much as she wanted to be chained and dominated by Astarion then and there, the vow to wait until he felt ready would not be broken.
The wait might as well end her with how her insides ran dry, loins aside.
Her chest thrummed with his closeness, and the moment he went to speak, Astarion moved her head side to side with a gruff chuckle. He used his spare hand to press their bodies tighter together, his hand firmly gripping her ass. Her breath hitched as his thumb slowly grazed her bottom lip.
"Gods, you're beautiful." He whispered and moved his hand from her cheeks and bound up her wrists over her head.
Her heart thundered against her chest, slowly lowering her gaze down his body where red leather pants nicely highlighted his prized jewels.
Astarion cleared his throat, drawing her attention. The hunter threw claimed her lips in a dominating kiss that filled her mouth with the fruity taste of brandy. His fought to control her stubborness and wrestled her tongue into submission. Astarion's fangs sank into her lower lip, deepening their kiss the moment she fought for air. Every movement so passionate, precise, possessive.
Calista's back arched, heat surging through her body from Astarion's touch. One lone finger snuck into her cloak, slowly moving from her collarbones down to her naval, his thumb dipping just beneath her belt. She moaned into him, body tensing, praying for him to pump his fingers inside of her.
Astarion broke their session, and she fought the urge to scream at him realizing how wet he got her. He bit her with kisses from her cheek until he reached his favorite feasting ground. One swipe of his tongue over her sensitive neck had her voice breaking to say his name. Her knees weakened, and if not for the safety of the hand on her shaky ass, she would have fallen.
Calist wanted more, she wanted all of him.
"So tempting," Astarion's nose nestled against her jawline, his voice raspy and…deceptive as he spoke. "I can feel you wanting more. To be all mine until well into the night," He pulled away with a haughty grin. "How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine, my precious Bhaal babe?"
That fucker! He led her on way more than she did to him and now she was soaked with no sweet agony of release. She had to choose Astarion.
No, she loved him, just harbored a temporary vendetta.
"That look on your face is so very cute. You want to cut me up, don't you?" His entertained tone irritated her, and she swiped one of his daggers and held it to his throat. "I know you won't hurt me."
No fear dwelled in his eyes, only amusement, not like she wanted him to fear her. She thrusted the dagger back into its sheath with a huff and choked back tears of humility.
Calista studied the rich red tunic that the duo stole from some wealthy fuck's house some time ago. Layered with gold embroidery, her vampire looked worthy of ascension. Many passerbys often complimented his appearance when wearing it. He took pride in his attire, and she contemplated going for the dagger again, but Calista's revenge would come at no expense to his clothing.
She ducked her head around the corner to see no townfolks and motioned for Astarion to follow. A few strides from them laid a drawbridge and blocking it were two guards and a steel watcher.
"So what's the plan? To push me over the bridge? I'm not entirely sure I remember how to swim."
Calista's palm hit her forehead hard enough to regret it. "I don't want you dead, you idiot."
"That warms my cold, pointy ears."
He was a lost cause. "Hey!" Calista shouted, approaching a woman concealed by plated steel armor and whose body tensed the second she closed the gap.
"Halt! Not another step. State your business."
Gods, she prayed for the power to say his name right. Gorlash, Vortax, Kisipheraunt.
Mustering the most deadpan expression, she announced, "I've come from Icewind Dale to see my dearest friend, Lord Gortash. I've traveled far, and he promised to set me up with the finest accomodations."
Raphael planted the idea of Icewind Dale in her head, thankfully. And based on the guard's lack of suspicion, she said the man's damn name right.
"Lord Gortash sent for you? How are we to know you're telling the truth?"
Okay, maybe the lady was a little suspicious.
"He did mention he was expecting someone, but gave no description." The other guard added.
Calista crossed her arms. "My old friend isn't known for his patience. What's your name so I can inform him of the woman who kept me captive long enough to miss out on the fun festivities he had planned this afternoon?"
"I-er- that won't be necessary, my lady."
The guards stood aside, swinging down the pommel of their axes twice and allowed passage.
"There you are, soldier! Don't enjoy being fucking ditched!" Karlach's loud call permeated the air, sending Calista to turn on her heels.
Her solid plan was ruined.
"And who are these?" One of the guards tilted her head, voice growing uncertain.
"These two fine women are my bodyguards. I'm a very important person."
"If they're your bodyguards, why do they speak to you so formal, and why were they missing?"
"What are you? A detective?!" Calista hissed and was stopped by Shadowheart's reassuring hand before she lunged for the guard.
"Forgive us. We were…scoping out the place and got rumor a serial killer is on the loose. We got seperated while asking around for information. Valeria wants our help to aid in this investigation, and to inform Lord Gortash. There's no telling when the next assassin will strike." Shadowheart always surprised her, with enough calmness and urgency in her tone to disarm the guards' skepticism.
"Assassins? Murders? Gods, you're serious. We are under strict orders to not let anyone in or out of the city - not with all these blasted earthquakes taking place. The four of you may proceed. Send Lord Gortash my apologies." The armored woman clanked her axe once more and the four were guided by a steel watcher.
Past the bridge laid similar architecture to the rest of Wyrm's Crossing. A stone keep towered over them. Torches lined the path with at least eight guards keeping watch over two doors, all of them unmoving, but pupils on them all. Their chauffeur stopped outside the door to the right, insisting they go inside.
"How are you feeling, little owl?" Astarion asked, placing a steady hand on her back.
She didn't know what to expect, what kind of person Gorthash was, or if she could hold her tongue long enough without being arrested.
And her underarmor created unease with its dampness.
"Like I wouldn't mind a meteor dooming us all about now." Calista dryly replied.
"I can't wait to give that fucker a piece of my mind. It's been a long time coming." Karlach's hostile amber eyes shot past the door, clenching the knob of her axe tight enough that veins protruded her hands.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Calista led the charge inside the keep, rolling her eyes to see red carpets plastered all over the floor. Some lazy god took a copy of one building and stamped it all across town.
She walked down a hall past a few armored guards and steel watchers. In the throne room, stands contained noblemen and women, all nicely dressed and judgey, watching them move with disgust until she caught sight of a man akin to a homeless, raccoon-pirate. The very man she witnessed speaking with Ketherich in the Moonrise Towers.
The man who sniggered in their direction and left them all to die.
Calista threw one foot behind her, lowering her body on the verge of transformation and expecting the worst, her band of misfits at the ready.
The man met her scornful gaze and got up off of the throne, walking gracefully down a small set of steps until their torsos were an inch apart. The scent of cheap booze poorly masked with some kind of nauseating spray dulled her senses.
With or without the beast, she longed to spill blood, until Gortash opened his nasty mouth.
"I've missed you, my beloved. I'm so glad you have finally come home."