Hello there! I'm so excited because I've finally managed to write about my Tav. I'm a huge fan of DnD and I often share with my friends the things I write during campains, so I thought I could do the same with my BG3 character. I hope you'll like it! :D Thank you Em Josh for your help and your careful reading! Your advices were so precious to me! 33
CW: mention of death, grief, mourning
The Last Light Inn
Tense with suspense, Héria didn't dare to breathe. Beside her group, the Harpers they helped through the shadows were standing right before their chief, with the Last Light Inn in their back. The area was protected by a soft dome of light. Héria couldn't tell what its source was, but perceiving Shadowheart's tension made her easily think it might be divine. The tiefling sensed they'd need to gain the Harpers' trust if they wanted to sleep in a real bed tonight, not on the shadows cold and dangerous ground. She had revealed what led them into the Shadowlands, but she could still perceive that it would be hard to convince Jaheira that they had a purpose in common: free the prisoners of the Absolute, and defeat the latter at Moonrise towers. Maybe mentioning the tadpole nibbling their brain wasn't a good strategy to gain Jaheira's sympathy… Héria didn't need to cast a detect thoughts spell to guess what was rushing through the Harper chief's brain. An easy mistake to make; thinking that they were true souls. They were however, only infected innocents who woke up one day on a nautiloid ship with a worm living in their skull. Since then, they have been trying to get rid of the parasite. It wasn't a gift, for most of them at least - except Astarion, who maybe was the only one seeing the good consequences in the tadpole situation. After hundreds of years, stuck in the night, he could finally see the sun's light, enjoying the simple act of wandering in daylight. Who was she to judge? Héria understood it well, as she was herself enjoying the feeling of gaining new powers.
With a last severe and sceptical look, Jaheira turned her back and entered the inn.
"Settle in, then come join me inside for a drink," she said, with a tone that wouldn't accept a no for answer. "We have matters to discuss."
Héria nodded with a discreet smile, a shiver running on the back of her neck. When she looked at her companions, she caught the teasing look Astarion placed on her. Of course, he could witness every small change in her expressive body while she was too focused on Jaheira to care.
"Is that Dammon?!" Karlach suddenly yelled, making everyone else but her jump in surprise. "Fuck yeah! It's him! I'm going to talk to him while you speak to Jaheira."
The excitement in her friend's look made Héria smile. She had guessed Karlach's admiration for Jaheira, who was basically a legend in Baldur's Gate, but she was amused to witness it. This, and the fact she couldn't stay still.
"Go for it, Karlach! We'll catch up later. Please, meet us at the Inn when you've finished. And can you send my regards to Dammon for me, plea- and she's gone. She really did that…"
"C'mon darling, she hasn't been listening to us since she caught a glimpse of Jaheira."
Astarion's voice was consciously teasing her, but she didn't mind. When she faced her remaining companions, prepared to tease the vampire back, she stopped herself.
"Shadowheart?" she called, gently. "Is everything OK?"
She turned her emerald eyes on her as if she was hearing her for the first time today. She sighed, a worried look on her face.
"I'm feeling it on every part of my skin. It's everywhere and welcoming us. Chasing the shadows away…"
Héria thought about it for a second, but who was she lying to? She didn't know a damn thing about religious references. She knew more about Shar today thanks to Shadowheart, but otherwise, she was a complete ignorant on that matter.
"I mean that I feel Selunite magic all around here", she added, probably feeling Héria wasn't connecting the dots. "She's surrounding us, probably protecting the area from the shadows."
"Of course, I knew that, she answered. Do you feel comfortable enough to sleep here? please say yes, I want to heal my wounds and sleep in a real bed for once, not on the ground. And I feel like I haven't taken a bath for centuries, please, please, please."
"Alright! It's hard to argue against getting to sleep on a real bed. I think I can contain my despise for few days."
Héria smiled. She guessed what it would cost her to be sheltered by the magic of Shar's opponent.
"Starting to enjoy the advantages your enemies can give you, love?" Astarion grinned.
Shadowheart rolled her eyes and started to walk towards the inn, Héria going after her.
Walking by her side, Astarion followed too, and she felt the back of his fingers accidentally touching hers. But she didn't withdraw, and surprisingly neither did he. Héria took a glance at him as a shiver ran through her body, but he looked unshakable as if nothing had ever happened. She couldn't see it, but when she looked away, Astarion was in fact smiling.
When they entered the Inn, Jaheira was here. Waiting for them.
"Please, be welcome, have a drink," she said, gently offering a glass of wine.
Héria picked it up and smiled politely.
"To your very good health."
"To yours!"
As she approached the glass to her lips, she kept her eyes on Jaheira's and she heard Astarion grunting disapprovingly in her back. Then, the harper came down on her with questions about the parasite. Héra had guessed she wouldn't be able to lie if the skin of her lips touched the liquid in the cup, but she drank anyway. She had never intended on deceiving the harpers, not with the life of innocent people in the balance, while the four of her companions were infected. She couldn't put them at risk. All she wanted was to sleep in a bed and have some rest before reaching Moonrise towers. And her frankness is what made her win Jaheira's interest and the little sliver of trust she spotted on her face. She saw it in her eyes, that every question awake another one in her brilliant mind.
On preparing themselves to defeat Ketheric Thorm, they agreed, and everyone relaxed, slowly. Then, a yawn in her back reminded her it was late and the day they had spent walking in the Shadowlands had been long enough.
"Go upstairs, I made beds prepared with fresh sheets for you all. Our thermal bath and our food are at your disposal if you need it so."
"Thank you, we'll be forever grateful for your hospitality."
"Don't speak too soon, woman. It's the least I can do if we all die tomorrow."
Her companion nodded with a grateful smile and went towards the stairs. While passing beside her, Héra grabbed Jaeheira's forearm and pressed it gently, then whispered:
"I'll do everything I can to defeat Ketheric, I promise. I'll be your hope if you let me be."
"You're not a bard for no reason," the harper grinned.
The door of her room shut in Héria's back, and for the first time in days, she experienced the feeling of being alone. She sighed in relief, and her body collapsed behind the door, slowly sliding before reaching the ground. There, her head rested on the wood beside her and she closed her eyes. Even the sound of silence felt odd to her ears. She has to admit; the inn was a peaceful place. Almost too perfect to be true. Even the hubbub from downstairs was muffled, soothed by the call of sleep. Nonetheless, from time to time, she could guess some Harpers were patrolling around the inn by the sound of the clinking noises of armour, echoing in the night.
Maybe for the first time since they began their journey through Faerun, awakening in the illithid ship, she was alone with the chaos of her thoughts. Before now, she didn't have time to live in her own head, pushing away her darkest parts as they were threatening to overwhelm her, waiting for her to give out in, one way or another. She had to keep moving, to have a purpose, for her friends and their survival; everything not to focus on her loss.
The face of a dark purple tiefling like her started to invade her thoughts the moment she left her friends at the first floor of the inn. She hadn't talked about it since she saw Luana's body getting torn apart, without being able to help her. Héria told her not to move from the capsule she was supposed to be stuck in. But her stubborn ass couldn't listen. She had to take advantage of every small hope to get out of the illithid ship. The door of her capsule wasn't properly sealed and she had to play the hero. As always.
Now that she opened the pandora box of pain and grief, by one millimeter, she couldn't stop herself from being quickly flooded. The sorrow dug a hole in her chest only to fill it with its poisonous water made of million of tiny sharp daggers, trying to choke her. Then it entered her lungs, her heart, skinning her from the inside, tearing her flesh apart. She tried to find air, but everything was way too painful. She suddenly felt all the things she had been pushing away for days, like a returning boomerang thrown with full power.
Over the sound of her beating blood in her temples and the pain rushing through her, Héria perceived someone knocking on the door behind her. Discreet, first. Then, insistent. She looked at the door handle with horror.
"Don't ignore me, Héria!" a stifled voice cried. "I know you're here, I can feel your parasite and your chaos."
There. She couldn't have a minute for herself with her companions, and she was mixed between being pissed because of the lack of privacy, and feeling grateful to have company. She nimbly jumped to her feet while whipping aways the tears on her cheeks. She silently begged all the Gods she knew to not have puffy red eyes, and opened the door.
"… how do you expect me to sleep properly if you decide to have an existential crisis in the room next to min- oh Gods."
Shadowheart looked pissed at first, her eyebrows frowned and her emerald eyes filled with frustration, but the moment the door opened, her face softened. She looked at her tiefling friend with concern.
"Good evening Shadowheart. What do you want?"
"What happened?"
"Nothing. I'm great."
"Hmm, yeah. You cried."
"No I didn't."
The black-haired woman pushed Héria back in her room and closed the door behind them.
"Alright, then, if you don't want to talk, can I do something to help you?"
Her tone was soft while she approached, hesitating to give Héria the hug she obviously needed.
"Would you like to hold my hand?" The tiefling's voice quaked, filled with the tears she was holding up.
Shadowheart took a step forward to reach her, and her fingers gently grabbed hers. Then, naturally, Héria buried herself in her arms, as they wrapped her in a southing embrace.
"It's going to be OK, Héria. You're not alone."
And then, she let it go. She weeped, caught by the mourning she was trying to run away from since her sister died before her very eyes. As her sobbing wasn't easing, Shadowheart guided her through the room to reach the bed. There, she made her lie down, took off both their shoes and lay down with her, covering her up again with her whole body until she stopped convulsively wailing. It took her time, many strokes on her back and whispering in the ears, repeating tirelessly that Shadowheart was there with her, and that everything was going to be OK for them.
Once Héria's eyes went dry, she withdrew a little to look at her friend, a inch separating their face.
"I'm so sorry, she sighed, I…"
"Don't."
Héria frowned.
"I think no one knows what you're going through. Everyone is so focused on their own problems that no one thought about checking on you, Héria. You're here for everyone, except yourself. I am the one who have to apologize."
"It was easier to deny the pain…"
"It always is," the cleric smiled. "I'm just wondering… how could your music be so moving while you struggle showing and talking about your own emotions?
Héria blushed, realising Shadowheart was quite perceptive on that matter.
"It's OK," she laughed, softly. "When you're ready, know that I'm here for you, do you hear me?"
"Promise."
Shadowheart started to move on the bed, as if she was drawing away, ready to go back into her room, and Héra felt her heart starting racing in her chest at this realization.
"Please, stay. "
The hesitation made Shadowheart frown, but she finally stopped her movement. Then she looked at her tiefling friend. Her eyes locked to hers for a second, then dripped on her face, lower than she realized. Héria knew they were too closed not to let it happen, just like the night they spent drinking wine and talking. Kneeled right by her side, Shadowheart leant on her and laid her lips on hers. They felt like time had stopped, just like the first time their mouths met. It was tender, wet and salty with tears, but it was comforting.
When they split apart, they laid back down, this time under the bedcover. Héria felt groggy, but she managed to blow out the candle on her bedside table. Then, she found her way back to the cleric's clasp.
"Can't believe I'm sacrificing a night, alone in a giant comfy bed just for myself," Shadowheart grumbled against her hair, her thumb gently stroking the skin on the back of Héria's neck.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not. It's even better."
And the tiefling fell asleep, eyes finally dry but a light smile on her lips, pressed on Shadowheart chest.