Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elves almost never become undead, mainly because it is antithetical to their very nature. As creatures whose souls are endlessly reincarnated, they don’t truly die. This removes the strongest reason for any thinking creature to seek out the state. Plus, Elven burial customs themselves create conditions under which the newly undead creature dies before it can fully turn. 

When Elves do end up in this debased state, they are rejected fully. By their Gods, by their families, and by their nature. This is what Astarion Ancunin, vampire spawn, had experienced for well over a century and a half now. He’d given up on praying after only a few decades. But on this night, his Master had truly outdone himself in cruelty. The pale elven man lay on a cold stone floor, chained in place next to a pile of gore that had previously been the body of the woman destined to be his soulmate in his next incarnation had he not become a vampire. He shivered and wept. Broken by the torment of having been compelled to reduce her to this state. 

He found himself praying once more. One last prayer, not for himself, but for her. Kess. She had been kind to him. Her music was a balm for everyone who had heard it. Truly what an Elf was meant to be, unlike himself. 

Corellon, I don’t know if I was ever a good Elf, but I never wanted this. I never wanted to become a monster. 

It’s not fair for her soul to be tied to my tainted soul. Let her find another love, another destiny for all her future lives. Someone worthy of it. Someone who can offer a life worth living. Don’t let her remember me as her thiramin. Don’t let her suffer that fate in her Reverie. She deserves so much better than that. 

Let me break his compulsions, let me embrace the sunlight again, let it take me from his grasp and make me free. I will do anything you want. Free me from this endless torture. If nothing else, let me forget this ever happened. I can’t go on knowing that I did this.

Corellon Larethian, the high God of the Elves, heard prayers often. Mostly they barely registered. Some were intriguing, others required his attention, but most simply faded. Some he actively ignored. He recognized the mind of the one that demanded his attention, an Elf that had debased himself by becoming a vampire spawn. He planned to ignore it when he heard the words “her soul.” He was… praying for someone else?

Intrigued, he tuned into the whole request and found himself unnerved. Vampires didn’t care for others, it went against the very curse that sustained them. Yet this spawn, this former Elf, was praying for the sake of another. It got enough of his attention that Corellon ran through the life that Astarion had lived, and his final moments, and was hit with horror.

His Master, who was also an Elf, had broken the rules. 

Elves had a special dispensation under the vampiric curse. An Elf cannot be turned against their will. They were to have a choice. But this Cazador, he had hidden the real choice being made from the spawn with clever words, and took away his final chance to change his mind by taking over Astarion’s mind during his turning, which also stole his memories of his mortal life, 

Corellon Larethian was livid . He decided then and there that he would destroy Cazador Szarr. Of course, the pesky rules that Ao had laid down on the gods to prevent them from rending apart all creation meant he couldn’t do it with his hand, no matter how much satisfaction that would have brought him. He could rally his people against him, but it wouldn’t have the same sweetness as handling this matter himself. 

He toyed with a dozen ways to handle this matter when he decided that he would create someone to deal with it. A new Chosen to have on hand, and a way to answer the prayer sent to him. Severing the connection between Kess and Astarion was easy enough, but Elven souls are rarely created, and it weighs heavily upon him for them to be unpaired. There was one he could assign to Kess, they would be a good match, but for this vampire spawn, it would need to be a unique individual. He smiled. He knew just how to fix this.

His presence swept briefly over the spawn, to take his memories and free him for the time being, and then he left, heading towards a realm he had found quite a long time ago. The perfect place to craft just the child he needed.

Chapter Text

A slip of a girl came in the door of the Keystone, West Virginia welfare office on the morning of Valentine’s day, 1977. She had on an oversized wool coat with an old canvas satchel across her back and a big bundle of blankets in her arms. When she signed the book at the reception desk, she wrote her name in child-like cursive, a heart over the i: Rose Marie Feyre. 

Rhoda Garret called out for Ms. Feyre and saw her struggle to get up from the metal chair in the waiting room. The case worker took pity on the frail blonde girl and came to help her, surprised when the bundle she carried turned out to be a baby wrapped in a dozen blankets, likely to ward off the cold February air. She took the bundle and headed back to her office, Rose Marie following close behind.

“Miss Garret, I ain’t sure who I was supposed to see, but Momma don’t come back from work in Charleston until Wednesday, and Ms. Ethel told me I had to tell the government about her.” Rose Marie confessed.

This tiny girl, it turned out was fifteen years old, and had given birth at home the day before by herself. Rhoda shook her head. When she had taken this job after graduating last spring, she had never met an unmarried mother. When she had first thought of it, she blamed the mothers for their poor choices. After a year, she wanted to hunt down all the fathers who were seemingly nowhere to be found. 

“Well, first you need to see a Doctor, Ms. Feyre. To check on you and the baby. He’ll be able to fill out the paper to get her a birth certificate as well. Does your little girl have a name yet?”

She was already taking notes for the forms. She could already tell that this family would require a great deal of assistance in the near future. 

“Her daddy gave it to her, Ailionora Lathanyll. I suppose she’ll be a Feyre, though.”

“What an unusual name. Pretty, though. Even if you aren’t married, you can still give your daughter her father’s name, Rose Marie.”

“Oh. Well, Corellon ain’t never told me what his was. I guess I never asked, neither.” The girl giggled, slightly horrifying Rhoda, who kept her composure despite the admission. “He said he’ll be back before the summer, so I guess I can ask him then.”

“Meemaw, it hurts !” Nora wailed, chubby fists clenched white.

“Shhh child.” The old woman admonished as she held her granddaughter’s strange, pointed ears tight against her scalp, trying to get the wig glue to hold them fast to the skin. “You can’t go to church with your fairy ears out and about.”

Fat tears welled up in the violet eyes of the toddler sitting on the bench in her kitchen. “W… why… why did I… have… to… get fairy ears?” The little girl was shaking as she sobbed. “No… one else… has them…”

Ephemera Feyre was not a comforting sort of woman. She wasn’t cruel or cold, exactly, but she’d lived the hard kind of life where comfort was often too much of a risk to take. So instead of something soft but untrue, she stated the facts.

“Nora, ye got them from yer daddy, ye ken. He’s one of them there fey spirits, from the forest up the mountain. Now, we gotta let yer ears sit real still so the glue can dry, and then I’ll braid up yer hair over them.”

The little girl blinked away tears. “I promise, Meemaw.”

Ephemera felt a tiny wave of sorrow for the little girl. She was so sweet, it wasn’t hardly fair that the Lord would punish her for the sins that her grandmother and mother had committed. The woman grabbed her church dress, carefully pressed this morning, and began putting it on over her slip. 

The door to the room squealed open and she saw her daughter dance in through it, still in her nightgown with her long, pale gold hair streaming down. Rose Marie was laughing and out of breath, carrying Nora’s dress in one hand, carelessly. 

“Ailionora!” Rose Marie sang to her daughter.

“Momma!” The little girl threw her arms up to be held. Ephemera rushed to intervene, her dress only buttoned-half up.

“Rose Marie. Yer bairn needs to be still while the glue dries down.” Her tone was harsh, stopping both girls in their tracks. “Where have ye been all morning?” She tried to be a little warmer. The last thing she needed was both of them to burst out in tears and then they’d all be at church looking sad.

Rose Marie’s smile fell into the cellar. “There was a rainbow on the sunrise, Momma. I went up the mountain to look.”

“He’s not comin’ back, Rose. If he was comin’ back, he would’a already. I warned ye about tangling with a fey. They ain’t reliable. Pretty don’t pay the butcher.”

“He promised. He said he’d be back in the summer when there were a rainbow on the sunrise.” The teenager’s voice quivered. 

Ephemera noticed the toddler was following the conversation intently. Much too intently for her to go further.  “Rose.” She said it with a warning tone and flickered her eyes over at Nora. “We’ve got thirty minutes ‘til we need to get walkin’ to church. Get yer dress on and braid that hair.”

“Why are we walkin’, Momma?” Rose nearly whined. 

“You got money for gas? I got just enough to get to Charleston for work next week. Then we got nothin’ for anythin’ until I gets paid again.”

“Hey, bug eyes!”

Nora didn’t bother looking at her tormentor right away. She knew the voice of Jennifer Cooley. Not content to be the prettiest girl at school, no, she had to make sure everyone else knew how inferior they were. And in Jennifer’s eyes, no one was as inferior as Nora Feyre.

Nora had learned a vital response to the taunts that came from Jennifer and all the other girls like her, most of the boys, too. She simply didn’t respond. She didn’t ignore them, because as she had been taught, that was rude. And rude got you in heaps of trouble when you are a girl, but she didn’t have to respond to the taunt itself.

“Good morning, Jennifer.” She said with a sweet but neutral tone, her face kept blank other than a tiny ghost of a smile. She looked at the annoyingly pretty blonde girl with perfect curls and a pink dress with heart buttons and counted slowly to three, before returning her eyes to her worksheet.

She’d already finished it. How addition seemed to be beyond most of her classmates in Ms. Hamill’s second grade class she couldn’t understand, but Meemaw had told her she needed to be more humble. That being smart was good, but it wasn’t anything to take too much pride in, because people hated smart women, especially those who liked being smart. It made no sense to Nora, but Meemaw always gave her good advice. 

“Nora Feyre.” Ms. Hamill’s admonishing voice rang out. “Stop distracting your classmates. Just because you are done doesn’t mean you can speak out of turn.” 

Nora seethed but bit it back. The teachers hated her almost as much as the students, but unlike them, she had no defense against this. She couldn’t ignore it, because that got her in more trouble. Everything she did with the teachers seemed to get her in more trouble. She couldn’t even apologize, because then she’d get in trouble for speaking out of turn more. But in three… two… one…

“And you are too good to say sorry? Come here.”

She bit her tongue harder to keep her face from doing anything. She got up slowly, while the other students snickered, smiled, and even giggled. She walked across the room, trying to look sad but based on Ms. Hamill’s face, she was failing. 

“Well, can’t expect much else from a little bastard, I guess.” The teacher's words were supposed to hurt. But Nora had been called a bastard for her whole life. She knew the drill. She put her hands on the desk, fingers splayed out. Today, she decided she would play the trick she occasionally did. Once or twice with each teacher who seemed to get a thrill out of punishing her.

The sudden crack of the ruler across her hands rang out. It hurt, enough to put tears in the corner of her eyes, but she wouldn’t give the satisfaction of a cry. Especially because of what was about to happen. She shifted her ring finger slightly, changing the angle of the bone. Crack! Crunch. A second hit and a finger now sitting at a grotesque angle. Teachers could hit students, but breaking bones would get them in trouble. Ms. Hamill’s face twisted in fear as she realized what she had done.

Nora looked her flatly in the eye for a brief moment and then screamed. Sobbed. Wailed. With a little smirk on her face, so Miss Hamill would know that Nora had brought on the world of trouble she was about to be in.

—----------------------------

The leather carrier full of wood she had just chopped weighed almost as much as the ten year old girl carrying it did. She could have emptied it half-way and done this in two trips, but Nora’s shoe had a hole in it now, and there was snow on the ground. Frostbite was too painful to risk so she’d chanced pulling a muscle. She groaned, heaved, and slowly, inch by inch, she walked down the steep incline from the wood pile at the far back of the yard to the cabin below.

She got to the porch and dropped the carrier with a groan of relief. She looked around and spotted the boot tray out of place. She dragged it over to the right of the front door and kicked off her canvas sneakers onto it. Then she began stacking the wood up on the rack except for a small armful. 

She was loading the armful of wood into the stove in the kitchen when Meemaw came in with a headless chicken carcass in one arm and a basket full of carrots, and a cabbage in the other. Nora smiled with excitement. They hadn’t had chicken in almost two months.

“Nora, good, yer here. Go wash up and put on an apron. This’ll need to get plucked.” Meemaw didn’t mince words when there was work to be done, but Nora had never minded. She wasn’t mean or unkind, not like nearly all the other adults in her life. 

She did as she was bade, and got to plucking the feathers off into a metal bucket. They’d be added to the pigs' slop later. The feathers could be sharp, but she’d plucked many chickens in her life and knew how to be careful to avoid the worst of it. It was rhythmic work that she found helped her mind to calm and focus on thoughts she had put to the side when she was too busy for thinking.

Meemaw was peeling the carrots into another slop bucket, and for some time, the kitchen was filled only with the sounds of the crackling fire, feathers being pulled and dropped, and the sound of carrots being peeled with a knife. The sound was interrupted when a moan sounded out from the living room.

Meemaw snorted. “Yer momma must finally be up.” Meemaw loved Momma, but she also couldn’t stand her these days. Nora understood. Momma could be sweet and kind, but when she was taking the drugs, she could be mean and vicious. She had the scars to prove that from a couple of months ago when she’d tried to get her mother out of bed for church. 

“Why does she do it, Meemaw?” Nora asked, already wishing she could take it back before the sentence had concluded.

Meemaw sighed, setting down her knife on the table in front of her. She smoothed down her threadbare canvas apron. “Come here for a second, lass.”

Nora hummed a response so she’d know she had heard her, and stopped to scrub up her hands with the harsh tallow and lye soap they kept in the house. She pulled over a chair and sat by her grandmother when she was done.

“Ye ken yer father is one of the fairy folk of the mountain, right?”

Nora nodded. She knew that’s what her Meemaw believed. She wasn’t sure what she thought. It was certainly nicer to imagine that her dad was some kind of fairy tale figure than that she just wasn’t good enough for him to bother to stick around for.

“The thing about the fairy folk is that it's real easy to fall in love with ‘em. They… they got a way about ‘em. They’re the prettiest things you’ve ever seen. Like angels, they are. Yer dad actually gave off a little golden glow, like one of them catholic paintings of the mother of Jesus.”

“Really?” Meemaw had never before told her what her dad had looked like. Nora had always wondered. All she knew is her horrible ears that she had to spend every day hiding came from him. She wished they hadn’t been poor or that her mother had been willing to let that government plastic surgeon cut them into normal ears when she was a baby.

“He did. And his face was like yers, too. A little odd, but all pretty angles and big eyes.”

“Did he have black hair, too?”

Meemaw shook her head. “No, love. But yer grandda had that.” The old woman looked off into the distance, sad suddenly. Nora had never heard anything about her Momma’s dad, so she sat still and waited. Hoping. 

Her hopes were answered. “He were fairy folk, too. Different kind, ye ken? He wasn’t near as pretty as yer dad, but prettier than any man I’d ever met then. His hair was black like yers, like the twilight sky. He disappeared, too. It’s what them folk do . They don’t belong here in this world. Yer momma could never accept it. It makes her sad, the kind of sad that makes one’s bones hurt. She don’t wanna hurt, and when she uses that poison, it makes her forget about the hurtin’. But it’s still poison.”

There was a soft silence in the air. Nora knew Momma was sad about her dad not coming back, but she had never thought it might be that bad. It sounded like the way she felt when she used to want to have friends before Crystal came to school last year and they became friends. 

“My sweet little lass. Have you thought about what I asked you about, about meeting yer daddy?”

Nora had thought about little else at Christmas when Meemaw had told her that her father had said he would leave signs when he was ready to come get her. She even showed her what they would look like and how to follow them. But, leaving everyone sounded scary. What if Da didn’t like her? What if fairy folk were even meaner than the people in Keystone? She’d already gotten two fingers broken this year, and the school term was barely half over.

“Why can’t Momma come with me?” She asked. She usually wasn’t this bold with Meemaw. The woman didn’t like to get too many questions, and although she never hit her for it, her words could be cutting enough.

“Child, your Momma has filled herself with poison. She’ll lose her mind if she crosses into their world. It’s not an easy journey. I’ve done it only once and I nearly lost mine.” Meemaw sounded a little far away for a moment. “But ye don’t got nothing to fear from it. Yer Dad said when the signs came, he’d come to guide ye through.” Her voice was firm now.

“Can’t you come and guide me? I’m scared to leave you, Meemaw. You’ve been sick, don’t tell me you ain’t.” She didn’t know where this courage to speak up was coming from. “I hear you coughing at night. I wash the handkerchiefs. I’ve seen the blood, Meemaw.”

The old woman’s eyes flashed anger for a brief minute, then fell. “Can’t put nothin’ past ye, my sharp little lass.” She gave her a rare smile. “I’ve done worked these bones hard, girl. Too hard. The doc tells me I’ve got rocks in my lungs making me sick, and I ain’t gonna get better. But that’s not for bairns to be worryin’ about. I gotta stay here, watch over yer Momma anyhow.”

“Will my Da like me, do you think?” Nora was genuinely anxious about that. She didn’t get anxious about much, but other than her family, her neighbor, and a couple other older women in town, she was strongly disliked. 

“He’ll love ye, lass, and that’s a damn sight better. Ye should make yer choice though. When the signs come ye need to be ready. Shouldn’t be more than a year or two longer.” Meemaw sighed. “Now, we got a dinner to make.”

The scream ripped out of her before she felt it building. Luckily, she’d already left the crowded room full of false sadness and apologies, people putting on the proper airs as though they’d cared about Ephemera Feyre. It wouldn’t be very Christian of them to speak the truth. They were horrible to her her whole life. Isolating her, never helping. Not even when she was dying. She’d run away from home at forty and turned back up four years later, obviously pregnant and without a husband, after all.

Momma was back at home with a needle in her arm. Nothing new there. Her occasional drug bender had become an everyday event when Meemaw became bed-bound, her lungs no longer giving her enough air to stay on her feet. Nora had taken care of them all. She’d cooked, cleaned, held Meemaw over a chamber pot, and emptied that in the outhouse. She’d had to take off six months from school, but the Principal, in a rare moment of genuine decency, had let her do correspondence work. Probably because the teachers didn’t want more time with her, she thought bitterly.

So here she was, sitting on the cold, damp ground up the mountain under one of the ancient oak trees at this elevation, screaming into the night about the unfairness of life. All Meemaw had ever done wrong was to fall in love with a mythical creature. She’d been the best, most righteous person otherwise. Always following the spirit of Jesus’ rules. She’d taught her to be hard-working, respectful, thoughtful, and kind. Not nice, no. Nice was icing and cookies. Kind was the bread that kept everyone fed. 

She’d stayed on the mountain until the cold seeped into her fingers and froze them stiff and painful, and she was forced to retreat to the cabin. 

Momma had thrown up on the sofa. Usually, she’d go right over, get a bowl of water from the kitchen barrel she’d filled from the well pump this morning, heat it on the wood stove, and wash her up, before rolling her down onto a rug and cleaning the couch carefully. Today, she snorted and went upstairs to curl up in the now too-big and too-cold bed she had shared with Meemaw her whole life. 

She had no idea what she would do when the bills came next week. She was pretty sure neither did Momma.

“Your Momma promised you’d be good for me, Nora.”  

She tried to look at her Pastor in disbelief, but the blindfold got in the way of that. 

“And you promised Christ you’d follow His rules and lead His flock.” She’d let her anger flash out. Since Meemaw died, she’d felt like she was practically made of it. All fiery edges, acid thoughts, and sharp tongue.

The burn across her face from him slapping her barely even registered. She’d taken more beatings at this point than a person had any right to. She still didn’t understand why, really, no one liked her. She was weird-looking, sure, but that hardly seemed enough to justify the raw hatred that the people of her hometown seemed to have for her. When she was young, she’d tried to make up for it by being exceptionally well-behaved, and then by being exceptionally good at what she was tasked with, but that had only made things worse. Now she was simply resigned to it. 

“Oh no! You’re going to beat me. How original .” Her voice was acid. “I can’t stop you from doing what you want, but I’m not going to pretend to like it or that it isn’t what it is. If that ruins it for you, well, might I suggest finding someone who wants to have sex with you.”

“I could gag you, you insolent little bitch.” 

She shrugged. Well, she tried. Her hands were currently bound tightly behind her, which meant her shoulders wouldn’t quite do the proper motion.

“Whatever gets this over with. I have homework to do.” She tried to sound nonchalant. She would never let this man know how terrified she was. Not of the pain, of course. But that he’d somehow derail her plan to get out of Keystone. That she’d be stuck here, replaying her mother’s tragic life story. As long as she got out, she could survive even this. She’d find somewhere she belonged, or at least where she wasn’t hated.

A piece of cloth was shoved into her mouth, and she heard the rip of duct tape before it was slapped across her chin to hold it in place. She closed her eyes, and forced her mind to be elsewhere before his hands found her again.

She was curled up inside the sleeping bag with her mother’s unconscious body, praying to Jesus that they didn’t freeze to death tonight. They were in these woods illegally. She couldn’t risk having a fire this close to a road where they might be spotted, and her Momma was too far gone in her high to put out much body heat. 

She stared up at the darkness, wishing her eyes didn’t see well enough in the dark to easily make out the roof of the tent. One more thing that made her wrong, weird, different. She could count them all, by now. Every one had a special agreed upon taunt among her classmates. Her gray-man face. Her purple bug-eyes. Her santa’s helper ears. Her beanpole body. Her oil-slick hair. Her praying mantis fingers. Not one part of her was correct. 

She was shivering but it couldn’t be helped. Tomorrow she got paid at the diner, and she’d be able to get them a room at the motel for the rest of the winter, right through to her sixteenth birthday. If they could just make it through tonight, they’d be ok. She tried to close her eyes, but she knew it was pointless. Everything hurt too much in this bitter cold to sleep through it. At least it meant she wasn’t hypothermic yet. 

As angry as she was at her Momma, she was scared she might not make it. Nora, at least, was shivering. She’d been getting at least one decent meal every day she worked, thanks to her boss, so she had the calories to burn for heat. But her mother was so very thin. She’d always been thin, it was just her nature, but she was barely more than skin and bones right now. Even through both of their clothing, Nora could feel her mother’s hip bone jutting sharply into her.

She might wake up to her mother’s corpse, she realized with horror. 

A loud, roaring noise came from just past the treeline, something lighting up the sky enough to make the blue of the tent visible to her eyes. Shit . Nora froze. There was nothing she could do. If she was lucky, it was the cops. They’d put her in foster care, which as a teenager, meant a group home no better than juvie. If she was unlucky, it was whomever her mother had stolen from to get the heroin currently running through her veins.

She could hear the crunch of boots on snow coming straight towards her. Damn these fucking ears and her hearing. She was tensing like her body could do anything for her. Running into the woods in a cold snap like this would kill her every bit as a gun in the hands of a determined man looking for payment. 

The steps got to just outside the tent and stopped. “Nora? Are you in there, love?” It was Nico, her boss. She let out a sigh. She would live through this encounter.

“Sir, I’m here with my momma. We’re all good. What’re you doing all the way out here?” She tried to keep her voice from shaking with her shivers.

“Nora.” His voice was firm, insistent. “We both know if you’re in a tent out in this weather things ain’t good. Why ain’t yer Momma answering?”

She sighed. She couldn’t risk her job to protect her Momma, and frankly, her Momma hadn’t ever protected her. She’d been throwing her to the wolves since Meemaw died.

“She’s high on heroin, Sir.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath and it hurt , like a sharp stab to her chest. She knew Nico wouldn’t treat her no different for it, but the shame still rolled over her. Poor little bastard, daughter of a drug addict. She’d heard it whispered under dozens of breaths.

“Nora, are you decent in there? I’d like to come get you two in my truck. So you can warm up. I can hear yer shivering from out here. You know I ain’t gonna do nothing untoward, and I can’t rightly let you both freeze to death.” He sounded sincere.

She thought about it. Nico had been one of the few adults who had treated her well in years. When he’d found out that her Mom wasn’t working, he’d suddenly put in place a policy that everyone got a free meal on their breaks. He’d even given her a little raise. Fifty cents an hour which meant she made as much as the other waitress even though she was still in high school. He even picked her up one time from the bus stop outside of town when she’d had to go to the social security office in Charleston to get the last check that should have gone to her Meemaw. That had kept them in the motel for three months.

After what had happened with the Pastor, she was skittish to say the least around grown men, but she decided to risk trusting Nico. Sending out a little prayer to Jesus that he was what he said he was. “Ok. I’ll come get in your truck.”

She’d come home at almost midnight. She’d taken double pay from Nico to help steam clean the diner’s kitchen this month. She was saving up money for her plan. She had just turned seventeen, and it was two months until graduation. She’d already talked to the army recruiter at her school. She was going to join the ROTC program to help her go to nursing school at WVSU. She’d already done all the tests after talking with the recruiter at her high school. They were surprised she wanted to go to a black college, but she’d figured no matter where she went people were gonna be awful to her, so she picked the school closest to home with the lowest tuition. 

She had been so excited. She’d have enough saved by June to go and find an apartment nearby. She couldn’t do the dorms because she was certain without her that her mother would go back to living in the tent or with one of her ‘boyfriends.’ So she needed permanent housing. ROTC would cover her tuition and her living expenses, so mostly she needed the deposit and enough in savings for emergencies. 

When she opened the door to the motel room she hadn’t been in since four am, she was hit with a smell that made her gag. A smell that as a girl who had raised chickens for years she knew all too well. She scanned the room and saw the slumped form of her mother on the bed. She ran over, but as soon as she saw her face, eyes vacant and mouth open, she knew. She dutifully checked her for a pulse, and finding none, numbly stood up to walk back to the front desk. She hadn’t been paying for a room phone, so she’d have to call emergency services from there.

The next week was a whirlwind. She’d managed to get to her shifts for three days before Nico found out what had happened and handed her a hundred dollars and told her she was off for the next two weeks. Honestly, he was the only decent person she had left in her life. She’d never done anything to deserve his constant kindness, so she could only assume it was his nature. 

The funeral had been a sadder affair than even her Meemaw’s. The community health nurse, the cop who had come to get her mother’s corpse, and her boss and coworkers had been the only attendees. She’d refused to allow the Pastor to come, to the shocked stares of the people who’d been present when he confronted her about paying the funeral home director to do the service. What did he expect? Her pregnancy hadn’t been something she’d been able to keep quiet when it happened, but the town was still buying into the belief that she had seduced her Pastor at the ripe age of fourteen away from his decent wife. She hadn’t even had tits yet, she had screamed at the woman who had confronted her at the free clinic when she went to her first appointment. Luckily, her body had done what she hadn’t had the stomach to do and took care of that mistake before it happened.

She was sitting now in the hotel room. She’d gotten the smell of death out, scrubbing her hands raw with boiling water and pinesol as she had cleaned every surface. It was eerie. No gargling sounds of her mother in one of her benders, or the silence of when she had gone off to find more drugs and Nora would be waiting in terrible anticipation of her return, never knowing who or what would come with it. Her mother’s things were lying on the bed. A handful of pieces of clothing not worth keeping. The box with the lock on it that contained the only things her father had left behind. 

Her father. Meemaw had told her he was coming soon. But that had been five years ago. Five years that felt like a lifetime. She’d been a sweet girl when her Meemaw had told her about her father in their warm little kitchen. She’d not been shredded by life back then. Would she even want to go with him if he came, now? 

She had put on the locket he had left for her while she was thinking about him. It was not warm, but warm enough that she wouldn’t freeze in just a sweater over her shirtdress, and she decided to take advantage of that to go for a walk. The motel was just down the highway from the little wood cabin where she had grown up. It took her about a half hour, mostly due to the incline, to get up to the trail that led from the woodshed in her old backyard up the mountain to the clearing where her Momma told her she’d been born, under the full moon by an ancient oak tree, surrounded by wild rose bushes.

She often wondered if her birth had been why her favorite scent had always been petrichor and not a flower like the other girls she knew.

It didn’t take long to find the tree. Just as her Momma had described, wild rose bushes surrounded the tree like a fancy garden. She’d had to grab a couple of fallen branches to push them back so her dress wouldn’t be spoiled by the thorns. She sat under the oak tree, looking up through the branches that were just beginning to show a few buds to look at the stars. She smiled, hearing her Meemaw’s voice as she told her the stories of the constellations. 

She felt empty inside. She felt guilt. Guilt that she wasn’t even sad about her Momma dying. She’d grieved her mom years ago when Meemaw had died and she realized that the woman who had played with her and sung her sweet songs when she was a child had been gone for a long time and Meemaw had just hid it from her. No, her guilt was that she had failed her Momma. She should have been able to get her help, get her to find a way to stop using. But she’d never even really tried. She’d not been able to, and then after the Pastor, well, she’d not wanted to, if she was honest. She’d wanted her to suffer.

She shook it off and stood up. This wasn’t helping her, and she had school in the morning. She was going to get out. She wouldn’t end up on some government office board, another sad point of the futility of helping out the hill folk. She had intended to walk back down the path when she saw a curious thing. On the far end of the clearing, where it hadn’t been when she had arrived, there was a circle of clover flowers. A perfect little circle of flowers that shouldn’t be blooming for another month. 

When it is time, sweet lass, your father will send you a circle of flowers or mushrooms. It will appear suddenly. If you wish to join him, all you must do is step inside it with intention. 

 

What will I find when I go through, Meemaw?

 

A beautiful place unlike anywhere on Earth, Nora. And he will be there. A pretty man with golden hair who glows like the sun. He will take you home.

She smiled. What was there left for her here anyway? Sadness? Crushing loneliness where her only friend was her boss? She had never had a dream of going anywhere or doing anything, just one to get away from here. This seemed as good an away as any. 

She took in a deep breath, and held her locket with her eyes closed, sending a prayer out, not to Jesus, whom she had stopped worshipping when he didn’t smite the Pastor, but to her father.

“Correllon, I’m coming. Please be there to find me.”

She opened her eyes and stepped into the circle, intent on finding her new home.

Chapter Text

She’d stepped through to a strange world with a rainbow sky. The ground was carpeted with flowers, like an overgrown meadow as far as her eyes could see. She looked around but didn’t see anyone. There was a tree here, too, and she went and sat under it, not sure what to do next.

The wait was short, luckily. A man suddenly appeared in front of her. His clothing was strange. Old-fashioned like people wore in Shakespeare movies. But much like her Meemaw had said, he glowed golden and was the prettiest man she’d ever seen. He came over and offered a hand to help her up. She took it, and a strange feeling went through her when their hands touched. 

“Ailionora Lathanyl. My child, I am Corellon Larethian, your father.”

She couldn’t stop staring at him. It was just so strange. Her whole life, she’d searched the faces of every person, every photograph, every news segment, trying to find someone who looked quite like her, and failing. Oh, there would be someone with her cheekbones, or her nose, or her eyes, but never all of it. And never the ears. Yet here he was. It was like looking in a mirror, in a way. 

“Are you feeling alright, child?” He asked, sounding worried. “The passage into the feywild can be difficult for mortals unused to the sensation, but you will recover.”

She realized she had to speak. “Sorry, Sir. I ain’t sick or nothin’. I… I just ain’t hardly seen someone who looks like me before.”

He looked at her oddly. “Daughter, you are not in trouble if you do not feel well. I am merely concerned for your welfare. If you are alright, I will lead you to my home.”

She took his offered hand, and it held hers with surprising strength for fingers as delicate as her own. “Please, lead the way.”

If someone had asked Nora where she thought her father might live, she would have had a few answers. Perhaps a tree house or a cutely decorated cave. After she had read “The Hobbit,” she was certain it would be one of the cozy little houses with a round door. She would not have ever, not in a million years, guessed it was a grand marble palace set amidst a village built into the tops of primordial white-barked deciduous trees and pines. 

He had taken her to a room that he told her was hers and had left with only the mention that she should come and find him in his library at sundown. It appeared to be noon when she looked out the huge window. The room was bigger than the entire cabin she had grown up in. A bed carved of a reddish wood with four posts and a fairy-tale canopy of pale blue velvet with gold tie-backs sat in an alcove on one end. 

There were multiple bookshelves that went to the ceiling built directly into the white marble walls. The books were written in a script she didn’t recognize, but they seemed important as they were bound in leather. A mural was painted on the ceiling of people who looked like her hunting a group of deer with bows through a forest. It was beautiful. So realistic she felt like she’d recognize the folks in it were she to meet them. There was a beautiful settee by the shelves, also in sky blue velvet, with a pile of soft white furs on one end. 

She’d wandered through one of the doors in the room to find what must be a dressing room, a concept she’d only ever seen in a tv show about the Queen of England and dismissed as absurd. Three wardrobe cabinets were on one wall, then two large chests of drawers and a cabinet containing shoes. A vanity table sat in the center, with hair brushes and jars of what must be cosmetics. She opened the wardrobes to find long, flowing dresses made from linen, wool, and velvet, all in sky blues and pale purples. There were also what looked like pale ivory linen nightgowns, trimmed with insanely intricate embroidery of moons, stars, leaves, and flowers. One had lace with tiny woodland animals in it. The drawers contained underclothes, just as beautiful as the other clothes, as well as fitted trousers of a style she had never seen, and soft blouses and vests. One drawer had what looked like corsets in it. The shoes were mainly short leather boots, but there were also slippers made of velvet and silk. 

Through another door off the dressing room, she found a bathroom that took her breath away.  A huge stone tub sat in the center, filled with water that continuously bubbled out of a copper pot that sat on one end and flowed over the top edges of the tub into the drain that surrounded it on all sides. The water was pleasantly hot when she touched it. A small closet contained what she hoped was a toilet. She had used it as one out of desperation after listening to the trickle of water for several minutes. There was a rack that had towels draped over it which kept them heated, and a cabinet filled with soaps, oils, and dried flower petals. Everything smelled amazing. 

As she had many hours, and she smelled far less pleasant than this place, she decided to take a bath. She was staring at the wardrobe, trying to pick out something to change into, when she heard a small, girlish voice speak in a language she didn’t understand. She turned around to see an elderly woman carrying a glass bottle filled with a murky green liquid. The woman looked at her, then mimed drinking from the bottle.

She took the bottle, pulled open the cork and smelled. It smelled like dirt. She didn’t relish tasting it. She was hesitant, but she realized that she had already put herself at the complete mercy of this place. It wasn’t the time to start getting squeamish. She closed her eyes, and drank it as fast as she could, gagging only a little at the taste. It wasn’t worse than when she’d had to eat rotten carrots last winter. 

“Ah, now that you can understand, hand that bottle back to me and I can take care of it.”

She turned and looked at the woman, confused, but handed her the bottle. “Why can I understand you now, Ma’am?”

She smiled. “He said you wouldn’t know. That was a potion of tongues, Ailionora. It will translate any language spoken to you into your primary language. You’ll need to learn Espruar, of course, and the speech of the humans as well, but for now, this will aid you in adjusting to your new home.”

“And where am I, ma’am?”

“Ah. This is Arvendor. I am named Moonflower. Your father has requested that I help you learn how we live here, and I have happily agreed. You may ask me anything you need to know. There is no need to feel embarrassed for not knowing something.” Her warm voice and easy smile made it seem real. 

Nora paused, trying to think around this. Well, a guide would certainly be useful. 

“Can you show me how your clothes work? I’d like to take a bath and…” She looked down at her clothes. They were cheap things and in terrible shape. An old lumpy gray sweater over a worn cotton dress. “I don’t think I’ll be putting these back on.”

Ailionora had been in Arvendor for seven years now. It was hard to keep track of time here. She had tried by marking days in a small journal she kept. But it was easy to miss days here. And the adjustment to trancing once she’d been taught how to do Reverie had thrown her off for some time. But it had to be close to seven. Meaning she was now twenty-four years old. 

The first month had been a non-stop shock. It turned out that she was an Elf, well, a Tel’Quessir in their language. Like the Tolkien kind, although he’d gotten many things wrong. Her Da had gotten her multiple tutors to help her learn what she needed to know to be a part of her people. The first and biggest shock had been finding out that she was still very much a child amongst her people because they lived for hundreds of years.

At seventeen, she wasn’t even grown. He’d had Moonflower explain to her that her sexual maturity wouldn’t happen for another decade or so. She’d then had to explain to the horrified old woman about the baby she’d lost and suddenly she’d been surrounded by a group of healers, having magic cast about her and potions shoved at her to drink. Apparently, being on Earth had sped up her development was the general conclusion. 

She’d also learned from their discussions that Elven women typically don’t have the kind of curves she’d developed in her last year on Earth. She had no idea where they came from. Her Momma and Meemaw were both rail thin, willowy was the nice way to say it. But no matter, it was there. She’d been afraid that it would be what made people here think less of her, but Moonflower had assured her that while it was unusual, it would not be offputting to other Elves. 

“After all, nothing is so attractive to our people as fertility.” She’d winked at her.

That led Ailionora down a rabbit hole of learning about Elven families and culture. Which inevitably led to the second big shock, which was learning that her father was a God. Like an actual deity, the chief God of her people. She’d needed almost a week, no a tenday it was called here, to acclimate that in her mind enough to talk about it. Even after seven years, she still didn’t understand all the implications.

Magic was real here. There had been a lovely old man who had been her tutor in magic. She wasn’t particularly good at it, well, the kind that one learns. She had some magic, it turned out, that simply came from her blood. The result of her parentage. That she had learned easily and had well-controlled use of these days. Tutors had taught her how to shoot a bow and wield a longsword, both of which she had taken to quickly. She’d had a physically rough upbringing, which had built a decent amount of bone strength and muscle in her. She also enjoyed physical things like that and had a good time learning how to fight and hunt. After a few years, some of the Elves who lived here in Arvandor had begun taking her hunting in the forest. 

Her third biggest shock was finding out she had been living for almost a year in Elven heaven. That’s why everyone she saw was elderly. It turned out that Elves reincarnate, so they don’t stay forever in Arvandor. And almost all Elves die old. Occasionally, she’d see a child or a younger adult, but they never stayed more than a few days. Only the elderly waited to reincarnate for a while. 

She had learned the language of her people in a few months, and after seven years was fully fluent. The accent was almost impossible for her to get right, but it was close enough, according to those that lived here in Arvendor. The human Common tongue was harder, even though it was similar to her old language. Corellon told her it was essentially a much older version of it, with some historical differences. 

Her father had summoned her today to the temple. She had never been inside of it before. She’d been told it was there, and she wasn’t forbidden from visiting anywhere in this realm, but she’d not had an interest in it. She still had unpleasant feelings around churches and the like since the incident with the Pastor, even after all this time. But he asked her to meet him there, and she had grown to love her father quite a lot, so she went. 

Corellon could be a strange man. He was quite chaotic, bouncing from thought to thought without focus it seemed at first. But then he could be intensely focused when something struck his fancy or seemed important to him. He was quite arrogant, and uncomfortably racist in her opinion, especially about these dark Elves and Orcs he spoke of. But it also sounded like he’d experienced some damage at the hands of these people, so she tried to temper her judgment since she was an outsider. Overall, though, she had found Corellon to be a genuinely good spirit, someone who wanted to make his people happy and safe, and he was, by far, the best parent she ever had. 

She entered the temple, wearing her favorite dress, a sky blue linen number with a low square neckline and half sleeves. The natural waist was defined by rows of carefully embroidered white flowers. She wore it with a silk chemise that provided a bit more coverage above the neckline, making it a touch more modest. She never wore stays unless she was out hunting. Moonflower had promised her that most Elves didn’t, but they had been provided because they had worried she might want the support with her shape. 

Corellon was in the center of the large space. It was white marble, like all the other buildings here, but the floors here were old wooden planks rather than stone, and the exposed wooden rafters were dripping with pine boughs, making the space smell rather like Christmas. A huge wooden table - an altar, she supposed - sat in the center, with an assortment of flower petals, clay powders, and paints laid out across it. She smiled. Her father loved the arts, all of them, and his people were always encouraged to pursue them. It felt correct that his altar would be covered in such tools. 

He raised his deep purple eyes to look at her. “Daughter, today is the day Moonflower is being called to be reborn. I’d like to send you with her.”

“You want me to be reincarnated?” She was confused. They hadn’t ever talked about that. 

“No, child.” He laughed, the sound rather like peals of silver bells. “I want you go to Toril, the world you will live in. I was sending you to help her new family. I think it would be a lovely way for you to learn to live amongst your people until it is time for you to complete the mission I have in mind for you.”

“The one where I help save the enslaved Elven man from the powerful evil holding him?”

“Yes, daughter. The same.”

“Why am I to wait, father? Isn’t he suffering?” She worried about that from time to time, since Corellon had disclosed that she had been born for a purpose. To be his hand on the material plane where he was not allowed to act.

“To free him, you will need to be ready. You are not yet ready. That is why you have been training to learn our ways of combat and magic. And now you must learn how to be an Elf. That will be part of how you defeat the evil.”

“Well then, I suppose that I am ready. Should I pack?”

“No need. Your things will be where you need them. I’ll have you help Moonflower through her journey to return to the material plane, and then I will open the path for you to meet her there. She will be born to one of my priestesses, in the city of Evereska.”

The reincarnation journey was fairly simple, all things considered. She’d helped Moonflower walk into a silvery pool at the back of the temple. One of several such pools. Other Elves were helped by other attendants on their journeys. Moonflower had stood in the pool, communing with her new mother, helping her through the pain of the birth, while Ailionora sang to the woman, soothing her, feeding her warm herbal teas and small pieces of fruit. She held her hand, right until the proper moment, when Moonflower had given her a small, sad smile, thinking she was saying goodbye.

“Thank you, Moonflower, for helping me learn how to be Tel’Quessir. You have been a most loving friend to me, and I am glad I get to return the favor.”

The woman didn’t know what she meant, but the time for talking had passed. The silvery liquid of the pool swept upwards, wrapping itself around the form of Moonflower and swallowing her, until it calmed back down into the pool, leaving behind no trace of the spirit it had taken. 

Corellon had told her that a path had been prepared. She had learned how to walk the feywilds herself, although she was not the best at it. Her extra-planar origins had meant that it was unstable around her, so she had resigned herself to only being able to follow a prepared path. She calmly walked out of the temple, hugging a few of her tutors goodbye, and stepped into the mushroom circle that bloomed in the patch of grass right out front.

Another decade had passed since Ailionora Lathanyll had left Arvandor, making it seventeen years since she had left Earth. She was now thirty-four years old. In Elven terms, that made her something akin to a sixteen year old. Old enough to have an adult body and it being culturally acceptable to engage in trysts with others, but young enough it would have been deeply inappropriate for a fully adult elf to reciprocate such feelings. She also was not expected to be extremely responsible or to know what she wanted to do with her life. This was her time to discover herself and to try new things. 

She had spent the past ten years assisting with the upbringing of the daughter of the two highest ranking priests in Evereska. A little girl who had previously been her tutor named Moonflower. Now she was known as Amnes, or Oakheart. She was a serious little child who delighted in climbing the trees around her parent's small home. 

Ailionora had settled into the city. Her parentage was not known here, and Corellon had told her to keep it to herself. Her ‘employers,’ the closest term she could think of as Elves didn't have jobs the way that she was used to, knew of her origins, unsurprising as they were priests of Corellon and Sehanine, her half-sister. But in general, people were told that she had been born to an Eladrim, a wild fey-elf, and raised in another world. It wasn’t too far from the truth and removed questions about her accent and occasional lapse in knowledge or etiquette. 

She had come to love the ways of her new people. They were strange sometimes, even now, but there was such care and community here. No one was punished for being sick or slow, and everyone was supported to do the things that brought them joy and created the most benefit for all. They also lived closely with nature, even though it was a city, the forest it was situated in thrived. Even animals were not trained or held here, but they spoke with them and got willing assistance. They rarely ate meat, hunting was only done when the population of animals had risen too high for the environment to support. Instead, they mostly lived on fruits and vegetables, as well as edible flowers. Eating this way she felt healthier than she had ever been on Earth.

She had become extremely proficient in the longbow and longsword, practicing daily along with training her body for speed and agility in combat. Elves were peaceful by nature, but they were in a seemingly unending battle with the Orcs, a battle started between the people’s gods before they even existed. Orcs occasionally managed to get close enough to threaten the city, but they were always taken care of before any damage could be done. She had taken part in a few of the defense attacks, receiving warm praise for her actions. 

She’d also taken up playing a small Elven harp. She still remembered many of the songs she knew from Earth, and this allowed her to play some of them. Her slightly altered rendition of ‘The Devil Went Down to Georgia’ was a favorite amongst the little ones. 

She had become quite content in her life, enjoying the creature comforts of the city, her routines, and the friends she had made. She’d even had a few paramours over the years, lovely distractions but nothing that had been serious. She’d appreciated how fluid Elves were regarding sexual relationships. Although it was expected that most would end up in a heterosexual pairing, there was no animosity towards those that sought out other kinds, even to exclusion. She’d learned to appreciate fine clothing, music, art, and poetry in her time there. 

So it was with some sadness and much trepidation that she approached the end of her stay. Corellon had sent her a message in a dream, letting her know that it was time for her to start her mission. The one thing he was requesting of her before she pursued her life however she saw fit. According to him, she was ready, as were the allies she would find to assist her. 

She had been given very little knowledge regarding her quest. Her job was to rescue an enslaved Elf from a great evil, located in the city of Baldur’s Gate. And the only clues she had been given were that she was to find an Elven woman named Jaheira when she got there and that she would know the Elf when she met him. 

Leaving from Evereska, she was heading with four other youngish Elves who had wanted to go on an adventure. They would not be helping with her end quest, but they would travel to the city together for safety. Corellon had warned her that she would truly be on her own, he wasn’t allowed to affect the material plane directly, not even to save her. She probably should have been terrified by that idea, but instead, she was excited. It felt like after almost two decades of living in a dream, she was finally beginning her life.

Chapter Text

There were four of them traveling together, herself and three young Elven men, none over a hundred and twenty years old. The wizard’s apprentice, Anezair, was traveling to the city of Waterdeep to attend Blackstaff University. The city guardsman, Kethuar, was headed to Daggerford to find an adventure to head out on. The bard, Arridae, wanted to go all the way to Baldur’s Gate, to learn the songs of many peoples and perform for larger crowds. Finally, herself, whoever she was, something that had suddenly become a thing she needed an answer for.

She was well-equipped for the journey. They all were. Each had a bag of holding containing a tent, plenty of food, and typical traveling equipment. She additionally had some books, her bow and quiver, a long sword, her harp, an extra traveling outfit, and a few dresses for their destination. She was wearing a suit of Elven chainmail, a gift from Amnes parents. Arridae had been particularly jealous of it, something she hadn’t encountered often since being among the Elves. It was very fine armor, though, so she understood. The last item that she had was a letter of introduction to Lord Onvyr of House Nightstar in Waterdeep, the city where they would be getting a boat to Baldur’s Gate. 

They’d left in the morning in high spirits, with her guiding them the short distance through the feywilds back to Faerun. They decided to make their first stop just outside the city, at the Halfway Inn. They would seek either horses or a caravan to travel with to Waterdeep. It was only a half day's walk from the exit from the Feywilds, a place set up by the Evereskans to allow for trade with the outside world.

“So, Ailionora, why are you headed to Baldur’s Gate?” Arridae pointedly asked after a few minutes. “The real reason? Because you aren’t the adventurous type. You’ve been in the city for years and mostly you’ve been a childminder.”

Kethuar’s head popped up. “What is youth but not the chance to explore one's self, Arridae? What have you been up to the past years, anyhow, but taking tedious lessons and making all of Evereska listen to every stale note of your lute?”

She bit back a sigh. Kethuar was a rather messy tryst from a few years ago that involved Midsummer’s Eve, faery wine, and a lack of understanding that the man wanted quite a bit more than a roll or two in the sheets. She’d winced when he’d asked to join the group, but she couldn’t think of a valid reason to say no, other than it would be awkward. And yet, here it was, being awkward. 

“It’s a valid question, Kethuar, and Arridae’s music had improved greatly over the past years, as one would expect of someone dedicated to their craft.” She tried to soothe the two before Kethuar’s somewhat impetuous temper became an issue. “I am to join my House there. I wish to learn about the human cities and their lives, and my distant family there was willing for me to join them.”

Anezair cracked a chuckle. “The humans will chew you up and spit you out, Ailionora. A pretty, naive thing like you. Do be careful of them. Amongst our kind, you are a noblewoman, but among theirs, you are a bastard, and they will treat you accordingly.”

The old sting of that word washed over her in a way that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime. Oh, she remembered at least one human world just fine. She might seem naive, but only because she’d been allowed to be for these years. She had forgotten nothing . 

“Anezair, you have lived among them for a few years before, why are they so obsessed with one’s parents being married? It hardly seems important. Magic can always ascertain parentage, should there be a question.” Kethuar spoke up. He was the second youngest, after herself, sixty-two years old. Anezair and Arridae were both over a hundred, although barely. 

“Sweet boy, it’s about control. The humans thirst for control over each other. They don’t marry to unite their souls, they marry for ownership and power. A child born outside of such a union is a child outside of anyone’s control. It’s a threat. Such a sick, twisted world they’ve woven for themselves. I can’t understand why any Tel’Quessir wants to bed these creatures.” Anezair sneered. 

“And yet, Anezair, you head to their world to find an apprenticeship. Why? What is it you hunger to learn that one of our people cannot teach you?” She taunted him, already knowing the answer. He’d failed the entrance tests, and he was far too ambitious to study and retake them in ten years.

Only a harsh murmur came as a reply, and she let it go. Arridae had pulled out his lute and began to play an upbeat walking tune, to her great relief. This was going to be a long journey with this group if they couldn’t find a way to unite. A thought came back to her from her high school days on Earth, this was a fucking group project, wasn't it? 

The rest of the journey to the inn was blessedly quiet. The inn itself was a small compound with an imposing stone wall, the three-story building rising above it. Elven guards manned the gates when they arrived.  “State your association and business, sir.” Anezair had put himself forward as the leader, which made sense as he was the oldest and had traveled in Faerun before.

“We are from Evereska. We seek to find a caravan or other group to travel with to Waterdeep.”

The guard looked at them more carefully this time. “Not often we get Evereskan’s heading out. Be careful. We keep the thieves here to a minimum but it can happen. There aren’t any caravans here at the moment, but Ardelle manages a group of mercenaries for hire here. She’d likely be aware of any that are planned. There’s plenty of open rooms at the moment if you plan to stay.”

They nodded their thanks and headed inside. The main area of the surround was taken with a large wooden stable on one end, and a barrack on the other, that housed the guards. The central building had a couple of large trader’s stalls that opened up to a large but cozy taproom. Two staircases led up to what must be the rooms for rent. She was shocked at how rustic the place was. Since she’d left Earth, everything she had seen had been rather magically luxurious, a sort of fairy tale world.

The group let Anezair continue to be in the lead, finding Ardelle, who held shop, or perhaps court would be more correct, in a large suite upstairs. She was a dwarven woman, bulky and red-nosed. Ailionora forced herself to not stare at her, but she only half succeeded.

“Love, you never seen a dwarf, have ya?” She’d asked with a chuckle.

“Is it that obvious?” She asked in halting common. She hadn’t had much reason to practice the tongue, and her accent was still very much West Virginian. 

“Oh, dear. You as Elven an Elf as I ever seen, but ya sound like a human from the Moonshaes when ya speak common. But yes, dearie, you were starin’.”

“Ah. I learned common from a woman from the Moonshaes, so I suppose that would explain things.” She lied, putting that aside to remember for later when it came up. 

“Well, I suggest fixin’ that accent up as much as possible. Many will try an’ take advantage of ya, soundin’ uneducated and all. Not like my good self, of course.”

“Of course, Ardelle.” Anezair jumped in. “We were hoping to join a caravan or something similar headed to Waterdeep, rather than fight our way through alone. Any chance you are aware of one coming through soon?”

The look on her face told them their answer. “No. Not a common destination from here. Waterdeep’s got enough Elves that they don’t need to reach out to Evereska to get y’all’s goods.” She sucked on her lower lip for a second. “But, I’ve got two soldiers who’ve been wanting to go visit home in Loud Water which is on the route. Perhaps we could work out a deal for youse to travel together?”

The agreement had been worked out quickly. Two hardened mercenaries, both human women, would accompany the group to Loud Water, and they’d procured horses for all of them, in return for a small amount of gold and Ailionora’s healing magic to be provided to one of Ardelle’s men who’d taken a bolt to the shoulder that now wasn’t healing properly.  The shoulder had been a tricky fix. She’d had to rebreak a few bones and reset them before applying her healing magic. The other Elves hadn’t known how powerful her magic was, as she’d carefully kept her abilities as under wraps as she could, and she knew that it would come up, especially as Anezair had tried to argue that she wouldn’t be able to help because she was so young, she wouldn’t have access to that kind of magic yet. She’d had to jump in to seal the deal.

They’d set out at daybreak, deciding for safety to stay within the Evereskan forest rather than cutting through the Marsh of Chelimber and risking a fight with the Yuan-ti who lived there. They hugged the edge of the Forbidden Forest, avoiding going deeper not due to danger, the Treeants there would surely have no problem with letting the Elves have safe passage through, but rather for the needs of their horses who were better suited to the plains alongside the woods. They traveled without interruption for a full half day, reaching the edge of Evereska’s protection. 

Being on horseback had meant little chance for conversation, which Ailionora had appreciated. She’d never been much of a people person, her early life had left her isolated, and keeping her true background under wraps had kept her similarly in her new world. But the horses needed rest, and the stream that marked the boundary of the Elves' terrain was a good place for them all to relax. 

Brianna and Vail were rather taciturn warriors. Both bore multiple visible scars from past skirmishes and wore heavy plate-mail armor. They were, however, the first humans Ailionora had the chance to talk to since walking through that flower circle fourteen years ago, and she didn’t want to walk into a human settlement blind. What she had been taught by the Elves she took with a rather large grain of salt. Their arrogant slash racist view of the shorter-lived species made it hard for her to trust their knowledge.

She walked over to where the two had sat themselves away from the Elves, carrying a quince to share with them. She sat down slightly in front of the two, watching quietly while they took turns cutting hunks off a salami with their daggers and chewing in silence. She had a leaf in her lap as a disposable plate and was laying out slices of the quince she was cutting with her sickle knife that she kept in her belt. The women occasionally gave her glances, but she simply sat and minded her business for the time being.

Finally, Vail grunted and looked towards her. “You gonna talk or what?”

“I thought you two might enjoy some of this fruit. It’s kind of like an apple, I don’t know the proper word in Common. I noticed you only had the salami.” She gestured to what remained of the quince.

Vail stared at her for moment seeming to consider how to respond. Brianna jumped in. “It’s a quince. First time out?”

She smiled at the warrior. “Something like that. My Common is pretty terrible. Ardell told me that the tutor I learned it from apparently had a horrendous accent. I thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t mind an occasional conversation partner. Also,” she glanced over at Kethuar, “he’s my ex and I’d really like to avoid him. He won’t accept it’s over between us. I didn’t know he was coming or I would have waited for another group.”

Apparently, that was the right thing to say, as Vail cracked up laughing, nearly spitting out the hunk of salami she’d been chewing. “Ah, well, we can’t leave you to those kinda wolves, now can we Brianna?”

“No. I made the mistake of letting a boy like that get in my bedroll when I was barely outta the house, ended up in this line of work just to get away from him.” Brianna smiled. “That quince smells fantastic. You still offerin’?”

They got back on their way after an hour. They weren’t pushing their horses, so they could go until close to sundown. The plan was to follow the foothills of the Graypeaks until they met up with the Black Road at Parnast. It was an unsavory place, being controlled by a shadowy group that Ailionora had read about called the Zhentarim, but it was a trading town, so there should be an inn, stables for their horses, and the ability to resupply for the journey. It would take a couple of nights to get there, though. 

Her first night of camping in the wilderness was a little too close to going home for Ailionora. The spot they picked, sheltered by pine trees and nestled by a steep hill at the base of the mountains, could have been any number of the places she had pitched a tent to shelter her Momma and her during her last couple of years on Earth. She found herself looking for Momma as she was setting up the tent, the habit of making sure she hadn’t wandered off still strong after fourteen years of letting go.  The tent was cozy. And man, she wished she’d had a bag of holding back on Earth. She’d been able to bring along so many creature comforts she could never have carried otherwise.

Sitting by the crackling fire, Arridae had played his lute for a while, the others joining in to sing songs both known and unknown.  The mercenaries taught him a human song, a bawdy tale about a goblin with a third leg. She cracked up laughing that Kethuar did not understand the implication, and took pity on him, explaining it to his increasingly red face. Arridae was impressed that she wasn’t quite as naive as he had thought. She pulled out her harp and, inspired by the surroundings, sang a few of the bawdier folk songs she had grown up with. Her voice was flat and not very good, but she had gotten quite skilled at the harp over the past years.

The second day went similar to the first. Riding for half a day, a long lunch stop where the horses rested and they all conversed a bit, and then a second half-day ride. The group was beginning to get over their new kid jitters, as she saw it, well, at least amongst the Elves. There seemed to be a divide between the humans and the Elves that only she was interested in spanning.  After their dinner, she started washing up the dishes. The Elves stared oddly at her for about twenty minutes while talking amongst themselves, until finally Anezair came over as she was finishing up. 

“Don’t you know how to do prestidigitation? I was certain I saw you cast that the first day we left.” 

“Yes. But that spell only cleans, it doesn’t kill diseases. I don’t fancy this journey getting longer because someone gets the runs.”

The wizard spluttered a bit. “Dishes don’t carry diseases.”

She laughed. “You can keep believing it, and I’m going to keep washing them and my hands. Please tell me you at least occasionally bathe and don’t solely rely on magic to clean yourself. It’s fine in a pinch but it’s not healthy, Anezair.” His expression told her what his smell had made her suspect.

Sometimes, she was thankful for her time on Earth. Germ theory was one of the strong points of that upbringing. That and her life with Meemaw had prepared her for traveling in Faerun far more than life in Evereska had her companions. She found their lack of self-sufficiency equal parts amusing and infuriating.  The past two days of traveling, as easy as it had been, made her feel more Nora than Ailionora. Nora had been sad, but she’d also been independent and tough. Sometimes, she had wondered if she had lost those traits. She was glad to find she hadn’t. It was good to be back out in the mountains again, to reunite with her old self.

It was midmorning on the third day when they ran into their first bit of trouble. They were riding as normal, her and Kethuar in front, Anezair and Arridae in the rear, and the mercenaries on either flank. Kethuar spotted them first. 

“Daquin!” ~ Danger!~ He had hissed low, loud enough for the Elves to hear, but she was certain Brianna and Vail didn’t. She followed his sightline and saw it for herself. Four humans on horseback, ill-fitting and mismatched armor, heading to cut them off at a narrow area between two foothills. She looked around but didn’t see a defensible spot. She was no tactician though, so she needed to alert the women, so she held up her hand in the signal they had taught her.

The two immediately pulled tightly in. Vail suddenly hissed, “Speed up. When I signal we turn east run for one minute and halt. Kethuar, you’re in front between us, wizard to the center in the back. We speed up in 5… 4… 3… 2… Now!”

The group pulled their horses into a breakneck run suddenly, slowly shifting positions as they did so. When they executed the sudden turn and stop, it forced the bandits to skid to a stop unplanned and put a hill on their left flank, while the bandits were in an open plain. While the mercenaries and Kethuar crashed into the human with swords flashing, Anezair cast magic missiles, and Arridae played a riff on his lute, causing a soft yellow light to suffuse around Kethuar. 

In the meantime, she pulled out her longbow with a practiced flourish and knocked an arrow. She’d seen an archer among them, she searched and spotted that he was heading for a slightly higher spot. She was suddenly thankful for those few raids she had participated in and the experience she'd gotten shooting mid-battle. She let loose her arrow and it flew true, cleanly puncturing the throat of the man she aimed for. He fell, grasping at it. She already knew he was dead, either from blood loss or damage to his airway. Adrenaline kept her going and she turned to aim back at the others, but they were down. 

She hopped off her horse, feeling a sudden wave of nausea that she couldn’t hold back. She ran to the side and threw up noisily in a small clump of rough grass. Vail walked over with a soft face. Ailionora flushed in embarrassment, and cast prestidigitation to clean off the mess, rinsing her mouth out with her waterskin after. 

“First time?” Vail asked, a kindness in her voice that Nora wouldn’t have expected.

She shook her head no. “I’ve ridden out in defense before. But, it was always goblins and orcs. It’s never been… well, a person. Gods, that is so fucking racist now that I say it out loud.” She swallowed, realizing that maybe some of the Elvish views had rubbed off on her more than she had thought. “But I’ve never known any goblins or orcs. Never had a conversation with one or shared a meal. I grew up with humans as a small child.”

Vail laughed. “That explains quite a lot about you. You’re the least standoffish Elf I’ve ever met. Yeah, it’s harder when it looks like a friend. And at least as far as goblins, I can tell you they aren’t exactly renowned conversationalists. You haven’t missed much, there.”

She still felt sheepish over all of it. “It just makes me feel like such a fucking child. I mean, I know I am, but… it still stings.” 

Vail looked at her curiously. “How old are you? Honestly, I can’t tell with you lot if you are twenty or two hundred.”

She smiled shyly. “31. In human terms, roughly sixteen.”

Vail’s eyebrow shot up. “And they are letting you out to adventure? Damn. You are very mature, love. At sixteen I would have been a fucking mess two hours into an adventure.”

Vail and Brianna offered to show them all how to loot the dead. The other Elves were horrified and declined, firmly. Nora wasn’t exactly excited, but she went along. She’d learned how much being too precious about things could cost you as a teenager. For her efforts, she was rewarded with additional arrows, not as good as hers but good enough, and a small bit of coin. She left the gold ones for the mercenaries, knowing that she’d have access to plenty in Waterdeep, but she kept the silver and copper, figuring they’d be helpful on the road.

They made it to the Black Road by the evening, the trade road that ran from Cormanthor to Waterdeep, named as it was mostly controlled by the Zhentarim. Groups such as theirs wouldn’t be harassed by the underhanded traders as they carried no goods nor people of import, but they would still have to be wary. It was safer than traveling the wilderness, and it avoided the mountains, bogs, and other unpleasant terrain, but it still put them in settlement after settlement run by thieves and mercenaries.  They pushed on the final hour to their planned stop in Parnast, passing through the guards with ease thanks to Vail and Brianna. Ardelle had a contract with the Zhents to travel the Black Road unhassled. They got rooms at the small inn, split by gender. Nora didn’t care about bunking with the men, but she was thankful to avoid any chance of having to share a bed with Kethuar, especially because he started pouting when that was announced.

Chapter Text

Parnast had been a simple stay. They had decided to stay for two nights, to give the horses additional rest after having pushed them so hard in the fight with the bandits. On the advice of Vail and Brianna, the Elves had stayed in their rooms. The humans had brought meals up to them so they could avoid eyes on them. Vail had told them there were slavers in town, and young Elves would be a temptation for those types. Better to give them nothing to think about.

So, when they headed out, they were all happy to get a break from each other. They happily spent the next five days traveling without incident, stopping in a town called Llorkh. It was clear it had once been prosperous, but it was severely rundown, with half the buildings seemingly abandoned, and the walls a rotten wooden palisade that surrounded stone walls that had fallen into ruin. They simply took advantage of a quick night's rest, being up with the dawn and back on the road. 

As they headed out, the terrain quickly changed. Crossing a swift river coming down out of the Graypeaks, the craggy surroundings became lush farmland. This early in the year, plants were just beginning to come through the dirt, but the ground smelled of loam and was dark and crumbly. Nora found herself nodding primly, thinking about what might have grown on land like this back home. West Virginia wasn’t well known for fertile lands, mostly hosting large gardens rather than profitable farms. But one could grow a decent farmstead there, and Meemaw had, even though they lived up the hills in the rockier soil below the treeline.

She had no idea what they grew here, but it must be worth quite a bit, because the farmhouses were large and in good condition. Dairy cows sat in fenced fields in between farms, their low cries occasionally breaking the quiet day. The sun was getting a little brighter each day, heralding that the spring would start warming up soon, which would make the rest of the journey better. It was odd, though, that although they road along the Black Road, they’d only seen a single trade caravan. She would have expected that trade to a city the size of Waterdeep would have been brisk.

As they approached Loud Water another five days later, along with her sorrow that Vail and Brianna, whom she had grown fond of, would be leaving them, she began to get nervous at the size of the settlement. This was the biggest place she had been yet in Faerun. A proper stone wall with parapets and guard towers surrounded the place. Not quite a small city, it was a very large town nonetheless. She shivered at the sight of a few headless corpses strung up outside the walls, a display of brutality she’d only ever read of.

The guards hadn’t bothered them at all once Vail had produced the mark of their company, and they were ushered inside to a busy bazaar. It seemed that goods of every variety could be found in this city. She quickly learned that the region was known especially for its cheeses and fine wood carvings, especially lanceboard sets.

She’d picked up a few cheeses to add to their rations that seemed at reasonable prices. She’d asked Brianna for insight into what she should expect goods to cost on the road, or she would have had no clue. She also picked up a particularly pretty lanceboard set that came in a cunning travel box. It seemed to essentially be chess, a game she had enjoyed on Earth. It would serve either to amuse her or could be a gift for someone in House Nightstar when she got to Water Deep.

She’d convinced Kethuar to come with to have a goodbye drink with Vail and Brianna before the four Elves went to the room they had gotten for the night. Luckily, she’d managed to get in bed with Arridae, a man who had no interest in her, which made him the perfect bedmate as far as she was concerned. He’d laughed when he’d asked her about it at breakfast and she’d admitted that she didn’t want to give Kethuar any ideas that there was still hope between them.

Without their extra guards, the four Elves came up with a strict watch schedule. They would take turns trancing each night so that two of them were always awake. Their human friends had warned them that as they headed closer to the bigger, wealthier settlements, the number of bandits would increase and that they should always consider running rather than fighting, as many of them would be organized and well-armed. 

They headed out at first light. It was already Myrtul and they didn’t want to lose too much time. For Arridae and Ailionora, they needed to get to Waterdeep before the Summer Solstice to make a ship during the safest part of the year for sailing along the Sword Coast, and Anazair needed to get to Waterdeep before the end of Flamerule if he had any hope of attending Blackstaff for the next term. 

Each day they got through without incident left Ailionora increasingly breathing a sigh of relief. They’d spotted bands of what seemed to her to be mercenaries riding along the road, but they’d all ignored her little group. They’d only spotted two more caravans despite having made it to Secomber, a small fortified village where a road led north from the Black Road, making the otherwise sleepy town a gathering spot for adventurers, caravans, and mercenaries, as they discovered upon entry.

A sleepy guard had explained the basic laws of the place and let them in without even asking for a bribe, a first on the trip since the Halfway Inn. They had made it only about a hundred or feet into the settlement before an alarm went off, causing merchants to suddenly start closing down tents, and others to start grabbing weapons as they came streaming out of the scattered buildings. They ran their horses to the stables behind the Singing Sprite inn, Nora pressing a silver into the stable boy's hands to tie them up for them, and they grabbed their weapons.

They ran up toward some guards grouped together. “How can we help?” Kethuar asked one who was giving out directions. 

The guard looked them over. “The archer, head up on the wall. You, with the sword, join this group to back the gate. What do you two do?” He snapped at Arridae and Anazair.

“Wizard and Bard.” Anazair answered for them. 

“Wizard up on the wall. Bard, do whatever makes sense for you. I don’t know what the fuck a bard can even do. We are being hit with a bugbear raid. Happens every other tenday these days. They want payment but with so few caravans coming through, ain’t any money to give these fuckers. Let’s go!”

Nora hopped up the ladder and found a spot to duck down behind a crenullation, laying down her cloak to pad her knees and opening her pack to have a healing potion at the ready. She looked out and saw the raiders approaching. Twenty-two hobgoblins with an assortment of armor and weapons. The gates had been closed, but that many hobgoblins would be able to break through rather quickly. They’d have to take them out before they got there, she realized.

She ran through all of her magic in her head. She looked around. Most of the fighters were humans and halflings. The dark would be a major inconvenience for them for distance hits. That she could fix. She rolled a few feet away from her spot, and sent up a sunlight spell into the night sky, lighting up the area like it was high noon. She rolled back to her spot as a few arrows hit where she had been when the light streaked upwards. 

She took aim and started shooting at each of them she could get a clean shot on. She only had thirty arrows in her quiver, so she made each one count. There were only a handful of other archers, but one of them was Arridae. He wasn’t near as good as she was, but he was adequate, hitting more often than he missed. Anazair contributed with his magic missiles. By the time the hobgoblins got to the gate there were only five of them still standing. 

The guards threw the gates wide open rather than risk having them damaged and took on the remaining raiders hand to hand. The fight hadn’t been easy. Hobgoblins are big and strong, but they had numbers on their side. In the end, there had only been one casualty on their side, a halfling who’d been beheaded, something beyond even Ailionora’s healing magic. The fight had lasted nearly an exhausting hour, and close to three by the time the corpses had been hauled outside and the gates reclosed for the night. 

The town had put them up in rooms for free, and they’d gotten drawn a hot bath. A very rare treat that they all took turns delighting in. They ended up staying an extra day in Secomber to rest, enjoying the appreciation of the towns folk for their assistance and preparing themselves for another month’s travel to Daggerford, through slightly less dangerous territory, or so the folk of Secomber promised them.

The rest of the ride to Daggerford was quiet. They’d passed one more caravan on the road, stopping with them for safety for the night, for the price of Arridae’s performance. Nora smiled watching him perform. She might have found him annoyingly arrogant, but he truly came to life when he played, as did his audience. A true talent still developing. She sat with her companions watching his little performance for the mercenaries and tradesmen. 

Kethuar had sat next to her, and she hadn’t avoided him. They were only two days away from Daggerford, where he would head off on his own, and it seemed fair to perhaps say goodbye on proper terms. So when he had wrapped an arm around her midperformance, she hadn’t squirmed out of it or suddenly needed to get up, she allowed it, but under her breath told him they needed to talk. She had no hard feelings towards the man, but rather, she had no particular feelings at all towards him. 

When Arridae’s performance had wrapped up, and everyone was heading to their tents, Nora had stayed by the small campfire with Kethuar. 

“You know that I will be making my leave in Daggerford. I’m seeking to join a crew of adventurers. To go off and explore. I may not be back home for a hundred years, or perhaps never at all.” His eyes were full of yearning, perhaps hoping she might try and dissuade him. She had no desire to cause him pain, so she truly tried to let him down gently.

“I know, Kethuar. We’ve talked about it, extensively, for the past month.”

He looked at her with those painfully hopeful eyes. “It could be our last night together, you know.”

She carefully kept her face neutral, waiting for him to get to the point. She cowardly hoped he’d not say what he was trying so hard to goad her into bringing up.

“I’d just always thought, well, after that Midsommer’s dance, that perhaps you might find something more of interest in me than a single night.”

There it was. “Kethuar, you are a lovely man, but-”

“But, not for you.” He finished her sentence, bitterness in his voice.

“I have no idea what I am looking for in that respect. But, I’ve been sent on a quest. A dream from the Seldarine. You know that I cared for the child of Cormiira Jandaar. He helped me to understand what I need to do. That takes priority over any other matters, you must understand. Perhaps someday, I will have time to discover who I may wish for something more with.” She kept her tone serious, hoping he would understand it was not something about his person she was rejecting.

He was taken aback, looking at her questioningly. “Truly? But you are so young.”

“The Protector says it must be me, and so I go. But truly, I have nothing but fond memories of our night together. You are not so old yourself. I am sure you will find many dalliances on your adventures, and perhaps, when things are right, a person who is more than a dalliance.” She smiled at him. “But please don’t keep this longing. It will only make you sad. I’d hate that.”

He smiled back. “I’ll remember you fondly as well, Ailionora. I will pray for your success and safe return to our home.”

She grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate that, Kethuar. Now, we’d better get to our tents. An early morning awaits us.”

They left Kethuar in Daggerford with only a few tears shed. She found that for all she had found him awkward to have along, she was glad for the time together. To give him closure over what otherwise might have festered into something far more than it was during his adventures. When that man fell, he fell hard. But she knew she wasn’t cut out to be with someone who was just so uncomfortably wholesome. 

Daggerford was a real city. The biggest city she’d ever been to on Earth had been Charleston, West Virginia, when she’d gone to the social security office one time. She knew that in Earth terms, it wasn’t a particularly large city. There weren’t any buildings over six stories, and there wasn’t even fifty thousand residents. Daggerford was about the same size. She was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of noise, smells, and activity everywhere she looked. A huge market overwhelmed the center of town, and there was a harbor. The port city was a bit upriver, so the ocean couldn’t be seen from here, but the salt air was pungent on the breeze. 

They’d joined a group of travelers headed together from Daggerford to Waterdeep. A group of mostly applicants to the famed Blackstaff University, with a few pilgrims headed to the temple to Selune there, and a handful of people looking to move to the city to seek their fortunes. The five-day journey was relatively uneventful. Such a large group traveling together tended to deter bandits, who’d rather focus on easier pickings or those with more potential loot. 

When they’d gotten near the outskirts of Waterdeep, Ailionora stared in wonder. A giant stone bridge, bigger than the highway bridge the bus she had taken to Charleston had crossed. It was wide enough for wagons to pass in opposite directions without touching and had guard towers all along. Far more people than they had seen on the entire road coalesced just on the other side of the bridge, between the bridge and the gate into the city proper.

The stone walls around the city rose multiple stories tall, surrounded by guards in smart green and black surcoats over their plate mail, with more guards on the backs of griffins flying through the air between the main gate and the far side of the bridge. She felt like a true country bumpkin with the way she must be staring. They followed the throng into the city. The area they encountered was a poorer part of the city, with mainly wooden buildings built directly into each other with occasional narrow alleyways. The main streets large enough for wagons and carriages ran North and South, whilst alleyways ran east and west. They’d stopped at a horse trader and sold the horses for a bit of coin.

They picked up one of the two-story wagons that ran the north-south boulevards, what Nora would have called a bus back on Earth, and rode for about a half hour getting off at the edge of the Castle Ward. They walked through the far south-eastern corner of the ward, just to the corner that met with the dock ward. Going on a tip from Vail, they got lodgings at The Sleeping Dog, a quiet boarding house tucked into the relatively nice area abutting the rowdy docks. It was a convenient and well-guarded walk through the main plaza of the Castle Ward to Blackstaff, and only a little further to the manor of House Nightstar in the Sea Ward, where she needed to visit with her letter of introduction from the Cormiir. 

The plan was that Lord Onvyr would hopefully provide lodgings for her and Arridae while they arranged for travel by ship to Baldur’s Gate. Anazair would either be joining Blackstaff or if turned away, presumably he would be looking for work in the city. He was so arrogant, she thought, he probably didn’t make backup plans. Either way, that was not her burden to shoulder.

They managed to get to their lodgings without incident, and with it being evening, at the recommendations of the sweet halfling woman named Terri who owned their boarding house, they headed a few streets over to the Quaffing Quaggoth to grab dinner and drinks, as it was far too late for shopping or heading to any of their respective destinations. The only stop they made was to change out of their armor and traveling clothes and wash up a touch before heading out. 

Anazair decided to stay in and study, which Ailionora and Arridae shrugged their shoulders at. Nora was looking forward to a real night out, honestly, the first in her entire life. And there were far worse people than Arridae to spend it with. He was reasonably attractive, with sort of chocolatey brown hair and deeper brown eyes that complemented his light bronze skin and a mischievous smile. Not only that, but he undeniably knew how to have a good time.

She’d changed into a pair of black leather pants, a white silk swashbuckling-style blouse, and an embroidered waistcoat made of deep purple linen with an elaborate pattern of peacock feathers. She’d embroidered it while teaching the art to her young charge, a skill she’d learned not in Arvendor but at her Meemaw’s knee. It made her smile to keep alive the few good parts of her life on Earth. She laced up her fine leather boots while Arridae admired his form in the floor-length mirror in their room, she caught him admiring her back side out of the corner of his eye when he’d thought she wasn’t looking.

“My musical friend, shall we see what the nightlife of Waterdeep has in store for us?”

He smiled, eyes twinkling. “I think in a city such as this, the answer could be anything. However, let us first go find dinner and a drink, and see where it takes us.”

He took her arm as they headed out to the street. She’d normally bristle at that, but it was grounding in this place. It took her many years of practice to keep from gawking at everything, from the two-story tall stone statues to the almost obscene display of riches on display. They’d seen a building in the castle district with a gold gilt roof, for fuck’s sake. 

The Quaffing Quaggoth was a reputable tavern in a bordering on disreputable neighborhood. The clientele was a real mixed bag, sailors rubbed elbows with students and nobles. Mostly humans and dwarves, but a smattering of half-elves were present. The tavern didn’t have private tables, rather there were long tables with benches along both sides that people simply filled in spots at as they became available. Arridae spotted a space they could squeeze in and pulled her over.

They’d had to get rather cozy to fit but managed it. They were wedged between a young, brown haired human man on Nora’s right and a middle aged dwarven woman with four steins in front of her on Arridae’s left. Across from them, two very in love half-elves were feeding each other dinner. 

Nora looked up at the menu, written with chalk on the dark stained walls of the tavern, and smiled. “I haven’t had meatloaf since I was a child.” She sighed. 

The man on her right looked at her. “I didn’t know meatloaf was a dish much favored by Elves?”

She turned to look at him. He was even younger than she had thought at first glance. Twenty at most . “It’s not. I spent my earliest years amongst humans. Tell me, is meatloaf here a ground meat mixed with breadcrumbs and eggs? Just to be sure it is the same dish I remember.”

“It is indeed! It is lovely to make the acquaintance of another interested in the culinary arts. I am Gale. Gale Dekarios.” He offered a hand at the only possible angle, which was awkward but he was quite charming in a nerdy sort of way. She accepted it, having to pull back to keep from elbowing him in the process. 

“My apologies. The space here is somewhat lacking for that maneuver, Gale Dekarios. I am Ailionora Lathanyll, but you may call me Nora if that’s too much a mouthful.”

She twisted around to make sure she wasn’t utterly ignoring Arridae, but she noticed that the drunken dwarven woman on his other side was gone, replaced by a drop-dead gorgeous half-elf that he was already busily charming the rather miniscule pants off of. Bards . She turned back to Gale.

“I think I’d rather prefer Ailionora, if it's the same to you. It seems odd to call such a beauty by such a simple name.” He blushed even as he said it. Clearly young and not used to flirting. Although she wasn’t exactly practiced at it herself, truth be told. “Besides, what a poetic title. A promise of sunlight. An unusual name for a… moon elf?”

“A sun elf and an Eladrin. But good try. Almost none get it right on the first try. Let’s see, my…” She had to stop herself from saying elevator pitch. “One minute biography. Due to a complicated situation, I was raised by humans for my early years until my father found me and brought me to Evereska, where I’ve lived until just a couple months ago, when I headed out on adventure. I dabble in magic but I’m a terrible student, I’m excellent with the longbow and the longsword, I play the harp, I like dancing, and just recently I’ve decided to learn how to play lanceboard. What about you, Gale?”

He blinked a second, before catching up with a big grin. “Well, I’m something of a wizarding prodigy, I must admit. I was admitted to Blackstaff when I was fourteen and I’ve already progressed into quite advanced spells. I love studying just about everything. There is just so much to be known and I wish to know as much as I can. I’m not much of a fighter but I do keep in shape, as all study should involve the body and the mind. I was born here in Waterdeep. I grew up in the Trade Ward, where my mother still lives and runs the premier floral supply in the city. I play no musical instruments, I’m not much of a dancer I fear, but, I am currently one of the top lanceboard players at Blackstaff, and I would adore to teach you how this evening, should you be interested.”

The barmaid had stopped by with the ale and wine that Arridae had ordered for them earlier. He was still utterly entranced with the half elf so she fished out the coins and ordered herself the meatloaf. She picked up her wine and held it up to toast her new acquaintance. “To lanceboard.” She smiled.

“To lanceboard.” Gale repeated. 

She had taken Gale back to the room she shared with Arridae, which she emphasized was a shared room so the poor boy didn’t get any ideas, only to find that Arridae had blocked the door. She swore at him for a few minutes in Elvish, but the bard issued no apologies, telling her to come back in a few hours. She spat a choice epithet back about bards and turned to Gale, who was standing there clearly out of his element. 

“My apologies, but do you have any suggestions of where we might spend a few hours? It would appear that my room is being held hostage by a randy bard.”

The wizard had broken out in laughter. “Well, not to be forward or to suggest anything untoward, but my tower is just a few streets away, and I do have a collection of lanceboard sets there. If you’d like to spend the time learning?”

She patted his cheek. “Gale, you are adorable. Sure, let’s go play chess - rather, lanceboard.”

“Chess?”

She sighed. “Where I grew up, there is a very similar game called Chess. Sorry, slip of the tongue.”

“Ah, no apologies needed. Truly, it’s not far. But I do need to warn you about my Tressym, Tara. She gets a little overprotective of me.” He said apologetically. 

“Tressym? I don’t think I’ve heard of that creature before.”

“Sort of a hyper-intelligent talking cat with wings. I may have summoned her when I was younger and wishing for a friend. The dangers of young wizard prodigies. Tara was a much better outcome than my first attempt, which summoned a fire elemental. My parents did not appreciate the damage to their living room.”

It had been a truly delightful couple of hours with Gale Dekarios, who had turned out to be twenty two, which felt slightly better than her original guess. He had been a complete gentlemen, which she greatly appreciated. Lanceboard, it turned out, was rather similar to chess once she learned the names of the pieces, and she had managed to surprise him with her aptitude. She’d always been good at logic puzzles, though, which she had told him.

He had walked her back to the boarding house, making sure she had access to her room before taking his leave. All in all, it had turned into a surprisingly delightful evening. She was, however, going to slap Arridae come morning. She settled that night for making him trance on the floor in repayment for kicking her out.

She’d paid for a separate room for herself that night as one had opened up and moved her things over while Arridae was still sleeping off his hangover. She’d take a quick bath and put on a proper Elven gown, her favorite sky blue linen one with a silk chemise under it, even wearing the short-stays she normally avoided for propriety’s sake. She didn’t want to make a poor first impression to Lord Onvyr. With that in mind, she’d done her hair in a relatively complex Elven braid, and put on her only jewel, the moonstone locket her father had left her as a child.

She’d tucked her letter of introduction and coin purse into her stays for safe-keeping, and headed out on foot. Arridae had caught up with her, but he looked dreadful. 

“Ailionora, perhaps you should wait for an escort.” He pleaded.

She looked around exaggeratedly. “Oh, if only a reliable one would suddenly appear. Luckily, the person you threw me to last night turned out to be lovely, but what a quandary I would have been in otherwise. That was extremely unkind of you, Arridae. I know you think with your dick first, but could you please try to find some patience in that regard?”

“That’s unkind.”

“Is it? Exactly at what point did you realize that I was out on the streets of this unfamiliar city, in the middle of the night, with a person you didn’t know the name of, and you had no idea where we had gone?”

He blinked. “Shit.”

“Yeah. So right now, in broad daylight, walking through the safest district in Waterdeep, I think I’ll be fine. Go get cleaned up, you smell like sex and ale.” She was snippy, but he’d earned it.

She continued on her walk, Arridae heading back to the inn with a face like a dog with its tail between its legs. It was a deeply pleasant day, where it was still chill enough at night that the morning sun didn’t make it overly warm until the late afternoon. She enjoyed it and took in the sights. 

This truly was the most beautiful part of the city. She watched the griffon corps practice flying over Mount Waterdeep, saw the City’s keep and most of the splendid temples. Just at the edge of the Sea Ward was House Nightstar’s family keep in Waterdeep. An ancient building. She had been told that the house had ancient roots in the human world, more so than most Elven houses, and they had a vast network of kin, making them a good house to lose her ancestry in. 

She pulled the letter out from where she had hidden it and smoothed it out about a block away. When she walked up to the gate, she kept her chin up, walking every inch the member of nobility she was claiming to be, and ignoring her insides telling her that everyone would be able to tell. The Elven guard at the gate regarded her for a moment, then noticed her locket, and gave her a more piercing look. 

“You approach the Manor of House Nightstar. Do you have an appointment?”

She cleared her throat. “I do not. I have a letter of introduction from the Cormiir of Evereska. Can you please deliver this to Lord Onvyr on my behalf?” She handed the man the wax sealed letter. “My name is Ailionora Lathanyll. I am staying at The Sleeping Dog in the Castle Ward for the time being, should he be willing to grant me an audience after reading my letter.”

The guard gave a short bow, calling for another Elf who came out from the house and took the letter in hand. She sighed, knowing she had to trust that it would reach him. She turned and began the trek back to the boarding house to meet up with Arridae. Perhaps they would have more immediate luck with finding a ship headed to Baldur’s Gate at the appropriate time.

She had walked about halfway back when she heard someone shouting out “Ailionora!” She turned to find it was Gale, waving at her from the entrance of what must be Blackstaff University.

“Gale Dekarios, fancy seeing you here.” She smiled. The man’s enthusiasm was infectious. 

He ran over, ending up a bit out of breath when he got to her. “You’ll never believe who I just had the sheer delight of attending the admission ceremony of.”

“Let me guess. A rather arrogant Elf who gave himself the name Lightning Hands but can’t even cast a decent Shocking Grasp yet?”

He looked slightly dejected. “Anizair told me you were friends.”

“I’m teasing, Gale. He can cast Shocking Grasp just fine. I just like to poke him about his name. That’s fantastic news. I was concerned how he would take it if he failed, he had quite a bit of his self riding on succeeding.”

“The risks of being a wizard. We are prone to overreach. And the arrogance is a bit necessary for someone to even attempt to mess about with the forces we put our hands on. Thank goodness for the guidance of the Weave and She who has given it to us. Mystra had to re-incarnate herself, you know, to end the spell plague.”

“You make it sound almost like a holy calling, Gale.”

“So, you’ve said you dabbled in magic. Pray tell, what have you succeeded at?”

She bit her lip. That was the wine talking last night. She should have known better than to open up to a wizard about it. “It’s complicated? I’m sort of a sorceress.”

He looked at her, blinking rapidly and trying to comprehend. 

“I can do magic that belongs to the clerical sphere, but I haven’t pledged myself to anyone in particular. But I did work for the Cormiir, the highest ranking Priest of Corellon Larethian, in Evereska for a while. Also, I can do some magic just because? I’ve tried studying and learning spells but that tends to fail. I’m not particularly concerned. Mostly I can do radiant spells. Healing Word, Cure Wounds, Restoration, that sort of thing. Oh, and Sunlight.”

He choked. “Sunlight is a fairly advanced spell.” 

“I’ve been told.”

“You are a very strange woman, Ailionora Lathanyll.” He smiled, then his eyes widened. “Oh. Lathanyll. I get it now.”

“Which is why Anezair and I make fun of each other’s names. They are terribly Elven. So, where does the day take you? I have already completed my sole errand for the day.”

“Well, I am off to have afternoon tea with my mother, and then pick up some fish for dinner. Tara is quite particular about that.”

“I imagine she is. She was a delightful host, though. Do tell her I say hello.”

She got back to her lodgings, and Arridae had made up for his misdeeds by paying to have her clothes laundered. They’d spent the afternoon practicing music together, and by the time they were to head out for dinner, Anizair had joined them to tell him their news, and a letter was delivered by Lord Onvyr, inviting Ailionora to meet with him in the late afternoon in his library. She gave the messenger who delivered it her assent to give back to the Lord.

Chapter Text

Arridae had found someone new to warm his bed that night, leaving her own devices the next morning. She’d taken a full bath the night before, so she was truly at her best for her meeting. She needed to show Lord Onvyr that would represent his house well to others. She dressed in a similar outfit to the one she had the day before, although this one was in the deep violet that was the house color. 

When she arrived at House Nightstar, this time she was immediately ushered in. She was escorted to the library, wandering through a house full of small gardens and little fountains, as though the entire building was an oasis. It was deeply relaxing. The library was enormous, making her think of the library in Beauty and the Beast. A maid came in, offering her chilled fruit juice, which she accepted gratefully. The walk had been warm. 

She waited not more than fifteen minutes before Lord Onvyr came in. He was old enough that his black hair was touched with a few strands of silver, and there were deep smile lines around his eyes. She stood up to greet him and offered him her hand.

He took it gently with his own. “Ailionora, it is so lovely,” he lightly kissed her hand, “to meet you.” 

She smiled in response. “Lord Onvyr, it’s an honor.”

They finished the human greeting and then slipped back into Elvish. “So, Jondar would like me to announce you as being part of House Nightstar. He was extremely vague as to why. I am not opposed to giving one of our brethren cover to move in the world but I am curious as to your motives.”

She stilled her face. “I had a dream. There is a great evil in Baldur’s Gate, and it has a taste for Elves. Our protector bade me to ferret it out and destroy it, but it hides among the upper echelons of that society. Humans put great stock into ancestry. Being a member of House Nighstar grants me access to where I need to be.”

“You? You are so young, my dear. A child in all but body, and not a hardened warrior.”

“I will seek out allies when the time comes.” I tried to sound certain. “My age is a hindrance, it is true, but if He feels that I am prepared for this, who am I to argue?”

“And your true origins?”

“My mother was an Eladrim in another realm. I was raised by humans for my earliest childhood until my father found me.”

“And your father?”

She looked at him, making a decision. She decided to allow him to piece it together, so she placed her hand on the moonstone locket that hung around her neck, and let her glow ever so gently pulse out. It felt nice to let the light out occasionally. Onvyr took a sharp breath in, clearly following.

“House Nightstar stands in service of our newest member, Lady Ailionora Lathanyl.”

A whirlwind had broken out after the meeting with Onvyr. First, she was informed in no uncertain terms that she needed a couple of gowns to be presented in, as well as jewels. Servants were sent to move her things from the inn into the manor house, and she was given a room there. Within just two days, she had gone from adventurer to a proper Waterdhavian lady about to be presented at the Summer Solstice ball. 

She’d sent letters to Arridae and Gale. Arridae, to tell him she had moved in, and that as soon as she had secured passage to Baldur’s Gate, she would send the information along. She had invited Gale to meet with her at the manor for a game of lanceboard in the library there. She smiled as she thought of the overly verbose young man, with his enthusiasm for all things new. How would he take in her sudden elevation in status? 

She was having dinner with Onvyr and two members of House Nightstar she had not yet met, Saevil, a wizard in his early four hundreds who all expected would head to Evermeet soon, and Juppar, Onvyr’s daughter, a painter of some renown in the city. She had seen many of Juppar’s works throughout the manor and thought them very fine indeed. 

She walked into the dining room, and Juppar immediately ran over to her. “Oh, Ailionora, it is always so lovely to meet one of our distant cousins. How are you finding our city?”

She smiled. “Juppar, a pleasure to meet you as well. It’s a bit of a change, I must admit, for me. I grew up in a small village nestled in mountains and then I lived for a few decades in Evereska. I’m not used to a place as large and crowded as Waterdeep. But, since I’ve been here, I’ve been looking at it through your eyes - your paintings, I mean. You see its beauty in how it molds to the terrain, in the way the crowds flow like rivers down the streets, breaking the banks sometimes. Your eye truly makes it feel like a living organism.”

The elven woman with flaxen hair blushed heavily. “Thank you. I’ve tried to capture the way the city is more than its part. Many of us dislike such places and see them as outside nature, but I don’t. I think it very much is a part of nature, and I try to put that into my work. I’m touched that you saw it.”

They sat at the table, the four Elves at a small round table rather than a large formal one. It was an intimate, family gathering. The first dish was brought out and placed on the table, a single fragrant flower floating in a steaming white liquid. A kind of floral soup. When she tasted it, she was surprised at the complexity of the flavor.

“Enjoying the soup? It’s the flower of the rose pepper tree. The only edible part. The fruits make excellent poisons. Most dry these and turn them into marinades for fish, but we find when steeped in white wine, they release a symphony of floral and spicy elements, a perfect beginning to a course.”

“Saevil, don’t tell me you are a connoisseur of the culinary arts? Surely, a hardy traveler like yourself is more used to eating questionable stews made of what could be scrounged from the countryside.” She lightly teased. “I only journeyed a few months and learned the difficulties of maintaining a decent quality of food under such circumstances.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so you’ve had a taste of the life! But you see, eating a multitude of questionable stews has made me appreciate the finer things that much more. What we don’t have,” his voice had turned into a flirting lilt suddenly, “can be so much sweeter than that which is in our grasp.”

She mentally shook that off. Nope. Not cousins. They weren’t, of course, but people were supposed to believe they were. “So, then, Saevil. Tell me about at least one of your adventures. I’d love to hear what a real one was like.”

Onvyr groaned. “Oh, now you’ve done it, cousin. We’ll be here all night still waiting for him to get to the end.”

The dinner was lovely, and Onvyr wasn’t entirely wrong. The single story that Saevil told lasted until well into drinks after dessert. It was lovely though. It felt natural, dare she say homey. She’d been so worried that she’d have to pretend so hard but she just fit in here. It was slightly disorienting. Not even in Evereska had she just immediately fit in like this. She was sad she’d be leaving in a few tendays at most.

Between visiting temples to make donations, meeting with dressmakers and jewelers, and working with Saevil to learn the Waterdhavian dances of the season, Nora’s time had been well spoken for. So when the day arrived for her to have her afternoon with Gale, she was thrilled. It felt like a tiny break of normalcy. They’d barely known each other but she already felt like they would end up being the best of friends.

She’d set up the lanceboard set she had bought on her journey, and fussed over the beverages, having the chilled tea with mint and honey along with chilled fruit juice set out. The tea was the closest thing she’d had to sweet tea since leaving Earth, and she’d quickly become a fiend about it. At the last minute, she’d had the kitchen put out a small tray of cheeses and fruits, in case he was peckish.

She heard him coming from the other end of the manor, prattling on about whether or not the walking statues, the giant stone golems that dotted the city, were a practical application of magic given that they did tend to destroy large chunks of the city when deployed, brought a wide smile to her face. She was sitting demurely on the end of the leather sofa when he walked in. She noted his eyes widen as he took in the library, with its three stories of shelves all filled to bursting with tomes from all over Faerun. 

“Hello, friend! I am so glad you had time today for a game.” She genuinely meant it.

He refocused, smiling broadly. “I usually can manage to find time for a game of lanceboard with such a scintillating opponent.” He let out a breath. “What a library. I had no idea House Nightstar had such a repository. I must speak with Lord Onvyr about his collection.”

“It’s quite extensive. It seems to have a focus on botany, from what I’ve been able to gather by browsing the catalogue.” She added, trying to be helpful.

“It has a catalogue?!” He seemed rather shocked.

“How else could someone manage a library this large?” She asked. Even her tiny hometown public library had had a catalogue. It was just good practice in information management.

He sighed. “You’d be surprised how many noble houses buy books as though they were some other sign of wealth like jewels or shoes, and then leave them to languish, unread and unappreciated.” He pulled himself out of his momentary funk. “But not yours. I had no idea you were Elven nobility when we met. I probably would have been a bit more deferential.”

“Well, then I’m glad you didn’t know. I had a lovely time that evening. Shall we begin the main event?” She said, gesturing at the board.

The game had been going well. She could already tell she was going to lose, but she felt better because he had to work for his win this time. 

“So, Gale, tell me a bit about what a normal tenday looks like for Gale Dekarious.”

“Ah, well, I am a student at Blackstaff. So I meet with my tutor there in the mornings first through fourth day. In the afternoons, I usually return to my tower to further my studies. I like to cook, which also involves shopping. I don’t have the means for staff, so I’m on my own but it isn’t so bad. Of course, I have Tara for company. On the days I don’t have lessons, I have other duties.” He looked sheepish all of a sudden. “Well, I don’t wish to come off as overly arrogant, but my studies have received the attention of Elminster. So I’ve been working with him when I am not busy with my duties at Blackstaff. And I spend my ninth and tendays as a devotee of Mid- I mean Mystra.”

“Elminster? The planeswalker?” She looked at her friend, reassessing him. There must be more there than she was seeing. 

“Yes. He says that I have the capacity to be a generation-defining wizard. Although he also says I lack patience.”

She laughed heartily. “You’re so young. Of course, you have no patience yet. Everything is still new and exciting and you want it all in your hands right now.”

She saw him swallow nervously. “I suppose you are probably hundreds of years old. I forgot how Elves don’t age the same…”

“Oh stop that. I’m thirty-four, not even old enough to be your parent as a human.” She quipped back. “So, Mystra. The new goddess of magic, same as the old one but under a new name. The one who saved us all from the spell plague.”

“The same.” He swallowed again, looking at her but his eyes kept darting away. “I heard that your House will be coming to the Summer Solstice ball at her temple.”

“We are. Onvyr has chosen it as my presentation to Waterdhavian society.”

He blushed a bit. He was adorable when he blushed, for some reason. That… usually wasn’t her thing at all. “I’m going to be presented there as well. I was hoping you might be there for it.”

“Oh? Well, I certainly look forward to sharing my debut with someone so illustrious, Gale Dekarious.” She smiled, having a flood of very confusing attraction for the human she had previously put firmly in the friend camp. 

They’d finished the game and chatted on about a few more things, him about his mother and her worries about him, her and her fears about going to Baldur’s Gate. Just two people enjoying the companionship of another like-minded soul. The chimes rang out letting her know that it would be time for dinner soon, so she bid her guest goodbye to go and get ready.

The time until the ball sped by, filled with tasks. 

A captain with a ship bound for the Gate had been found and a sizable amount of gold had exchanged hands for her safe passage. The extra expense was to pay the sailors to depart before the Midsommer’s festival. This meant they would get to the Gate before Marpenoth, when the waterspouts would begin kicking off along the Sword Coast, endangering every boat, and the waters would grow cold enough that mere minutes could be enough to kill someone who fell into them. She’d sent the information to Arridae, who had managed to get several gigs since they’d been there. She hoped he was happy, they weren’t friends, precisely, but she’d grown to care about him on their journey.

She’d gone on many shopping trips. Buying a trunk to take along for show. Truly, most of her things would live in her bag of holding quite nicely. But she now had a decent wardrobe, jewels, accessories, and some luxury goods to bring to her new family in Baldur’s Gate. She’d also partaken of the more respectable nightlife, at Onvyr’s insistence that she not go to a den of corruption like the city she was headed to totally naive.

She had tea with noblewomen from other houses, practicing her ability to prattle on about seemingly meaningless things. There was always meaning with most of them. This was their form of battle, and the fact that it consisted of words and not blades made it no less deadly for the players. For the women of human nobility, reputation was everything. And reputation lived and died by words. She’d managed to acquit herself reasonably well.

The thing that still felt strange to Nora, even after fourteen years, was being considered to be extremely attractive. It had been drilled into her so hard growing up that she was ugly and weird. Deformed was often the word used. She hesitated to believe anyone who complimented her. It served her well in this new world, sadly, because she would never be one to be easily swayed by compliments. But everywhere she went here, people, especially men, seemed to find her desirable in ways that she realized she was going to have to adjust to.

The day of the ball had arrived, and she was beyond nervous. Her lady’s maid, a half-elven woman named Ayla, had suggested she sleep rather than trance the night before. The ball would go until the next sunrise, and the idea was to have the energy for the whole event. She’d woken up then in midmorning. 

A luxurious bath, well, baths had followed. A series of them. One with salts for cleansing. Then a milk and flower bath. Then soaps. Then one filled with scented oils that she soaked in while Ayla washed her hair that reached her waist when unbound. A masseuse had been brought in just for the day who had attended to her body afterward, finding every tiny fleck of muscle tension and working them out. Leaving her wanting a blissful nap, not the next two hours of further primping.

A courtesan gave her a manicure and a pedicure, polishing her fingernails and placing enamel work of a starry night studded with diamond dust for stars. This felt excessive to her, but she was assured that it was the expected level of excess for her position here. After that, a hairdresser came and began their work. The design for her hair, because there were literal sketches and diagrams for it, was a carefully constructed design of thousands of tiny braids woven with strands of silver threads and seed pearls, paired with piles of curls and finally the fragrant moonflowers that grew on the Nightstar estate. They’d have to be added at the last minute, as they would only bloom once it was dark, releasing their dark, intoxicating scent.

The ridiculous enterprise took almost four hours to complete and nearly broke her patience. She’d eaten a very light lunch afterward, and then the work proceeded to get her into what she could only call a costume. This was a formal event, headed by the Open Lords of Waterdeep, so it called for court dress. The costume would represent the House she was part of. Her dress was silk taffeta that shifted in color between a deep, inky blue and deep violet, the colors of the house. The skirts were full, embroidered to look like she floated on a field of stars, with silver threads, small diamonds, seed pearls, amethysts, and moonstones embroidered into the constellations to catch the lights and create a starshine effect. The bodice was cut low, exposing her rather un-Elven cleavage. A delicate necklace of eight-pointed stars of diamonds and silver intermingled with sapphires and amethysts, emphasizing her pale decollatage. 

When she looked in the mirror, just enough time left for the hairdresser to weave the freshly picked moonflowers into her hair, she saw a painting reflected at her. Someone out of one of those big paintings of a royal family in one of her history textbooks. She reached up to touch her face, earning a hiss from Ayla. “My lady, your face hasn’t fully set yet!”

She’d forgotten she was wearing makeup of sorts. A thick cream had been rubbed into her skin, next a powder made of crushed mother of pearl had been brushed over it as a highlighter, the subtle sparkle emphasizing her angular visage. Kohl had darkened her already thick lashes, subtly highlighting her bright violet eyes. And a pale berry stain had made her lips look just slightly more there than their natural shade. She was deemed perfect by her new family, and they were hustled into their carriage by the staff, lest they be late for the festivities.

She tried her best not to be wide-eyed and overwhelmed by what greeted them at the temple. A building of impossibility, glass, and marble that somehow seemed weightless as it soared into the sky. Magic was all around, she could feel the tingle that sang to her blood. A string quartet was playing somewhere deeper within, and the steady hum of voices told her before she could see that hundreds were present for the festivities, if not more. A steady stream of well-dressed Lords and Ladies came from carriages, heading inside. She recognized a few she had met in the past tendays, but most she did not know. Waterdeep having roughly a million residents, it shouldn’t have surprised her.

Onvyr guided them towards the entrance, bringing them through a hallway filled with flowers and fruits of every kind, smelling like an exotic garden. Beautiful paintings of the Open Lords of the City ran the length of the gallery, a reminder of whose support was funding the event, she supposed. Once inside, each House and its representatives were announced at the entrance, before they were sent to be greeted by one of the Open Lords and welcomed. Their turn had come, and she kept her face smooth and didn’t blush at the attention, so that was a win.

Once freely circulating the ball, she’d been delighted when a servant came by with a tray of Elverquisst in crystal flutes. She'd taken one, thanking him profusely. She hadn’t had the sweet, floral wine since she’d been in Evereska. It was truly one of her favorite drinks, although she sipped it slowly. It was far stronger than it tasted, and she’d only had a light lunch.

She was greeted by a multitude of Lords and Ladies. Some out of idle curiosity, others looking for a suitable match for a son. A few wanted to get in the good graces of Onvyr. She was pleasant, polite, and made no promises. She danced with dozens of young men, some she even felt a passing attraction to. It was all good fun, the mores of Waterdeep’s elite meant that it would come to nothing and she would go home to her bed alone. Silly human rules.

As the midnight chimes rang out, a hush came over the assembly. Elminster appeared from a swirling purple portal that had opened in front of the new statue of Mystra. 

“To the good people of Waterdeep. As you know, times have been difficult for the magic of this realm. But with the spell plague now conquered, and our Goddess returned to us as Mystra, She has decided it time that she name a new Chosen to help guide us mortals in our connection to Her weave.”

There were murmurs rippling through the crowd, each was looking around to see if they could spot this person, to no avail.

“He is a Waterdhavian native, a representative of the best of the city through and through. Charming, erudite, curious, and unafraid. He has risen quickly through the ranks at Blackstaff, and I have personally trained him for the past couple of years. I trust that he will be an archmage ere he reaches twenty-five.”

A gasp rippled through at that pronouncement. An archmage at twenty-five was a thing that just did not happen. It would have to be someone of exceptional natural talent. She suddenly felt her stomach drop. Was this the announcement that he had meant?

She looked back at Elminster, and there he was. Gale Dekarious, in a brilliant purple robe, wearing a smile that could light up a dark room, and a pretty blush at all the attention. 

“I present Gale Dekarios, Chosen of Mystra.” A cheer went up which she happily joined in.

All everyone wanted, after that point, was to talk about Gale, which made her giggle several times. Because, it wasn’t an hour later that he spotted her and came running over, leaving several of the Lords of Waterdeep aghast. 

“Ailionora! My goddess, you are stunning tonight.” His eyes were slightly wide with shock, and then he caught himself. “I mean, of course, you are always quite alluring it’s just-”

“It’s fine, Gale. No offense taken. I know you’ve gotten to know me in my more rough and ready attire.” She smiled. “So, Chosen of Mystra, eh? That must be quite the head rush for a wizard.”

He smiled shyly. “I suppose she must see something in me, what I can be.”

“Or perhaps what you are, which is already quite something, Gale Dekarios.” She groaned internally. She probably should stop flirting with the human. She was leaving shortly to travel almost a thousand miles away, to a city that could not be teleported to from here.

“How much longer do you think before you leave for Baldur’s Gate?” He asked, staring at her with soft, almost sad eyes. 

“You could come with.” She suddenly blurted out, feeling stupid. He’d just been named the Chosen of a Goddess, she thought, obviously, he had better things to do than chase her halfway around the continent.

He brightened. “Well, I am supposed to head that way. Eventually, I am to visit Elturel, but the Gate is along the way. And traveling by boat this time of year is far safer than risking the roads.”

She felt her stomach tightening. She hadn’t been this drawn to someone ever, really, and it was making her nervous. She risked reaching out and softly touching his hand. Sparks burned between their skin, she could see in his face he was feeling it, too. 

“I’ll send the information of our ship to your tower. There was room for another traveler, still, when we booked.” She breathed out the words, lost instead at staring into his chocolate brown eyes. 

That might have gone somewhere, but Lord Onvyr came over and interrupted them, bringing her back over to speak with some of his business associates who normally were based out of Baldur’s Gate.

The morning after the ball, she was finally free of all of the trappings, but not free of her thoughts of the sweet human mage with the chocolate brown eyes. She’d ended up having to touch herself to thoughts of him to be able to trance the night before. She decided enough was enough, and she needed to get this out of her system before it became a distraction.

She’d gotten dressed quickly in a simple linen gown, her hair in a single braid over her shoulder. She didn’t need finery for this event. She’d had the Nightstar carriage drop her off. She had a sending stone now that she could use to call the driver when she wished to return home. She looked up at the tower with its balcony that looked out over the harbor and took in a breath.

She knocked on the heavy wooden door gently. “Who wishes to enter the Dekarios residence?” She smiled at Tara’s voice. 

“Tara, it’s Ailionora. I was hoping to visit Gale. I brought some fresh tuna for you, as well.” 

“Well, then, Lady Nightstar,” she heard the bar slide open. “Welcome to our humble abode. Gale will be out for another hour or so before he is expected home.”

She entered the warm space, walked into the parlor, and then turned towards the kitchen. “How about you and I make some lunch to have waiting for him when he arrives?”

“A woman such as yourself cooks?” She swore she could hear the tressym’s eyebrow raise.

“Would you believe I grew up in a house with dirt floors? I learned how to pluck a chicken when I was three years old.”

Gale had arrived to a luncheon set out of fruits, cheeses, the tuna seared with a sweet and salty glaze, and a bottle of Elverquisst she had brought to toast his achievement.

“Truly, this is entirely too much fuss over me, Ailionora.”

She chuckled. “Tara helped too, you know. I woudn’t have had a clue where anything in this kitchen was without her wise guidance.” She smiled as Tara preened at the praise. “Besides, you accomplished something fairly major, didn’t you?”

“As did you.” He tried to demur.

“I showed up and existed. That’s barely anything. You caught the eye of a Goddess.” She hadn’t meant to but she found herself giving it the double-entendre voice. “Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised, as you’ve rather caught my eye as well.”

She heard his voice catch in his thoat, and saw Tara softly drift out of the room. She assumed the tressym would be listening in just outside unless things got intense. She'd given him a glass of wine, which he drank down as fast as she had drunk hers.

“Oh. Well, then. I suppose, I must admit, I find you interesting as well.” His blush was back.

“Interesting?” She scooted closer, close enough to allow her to skim her fingers up his exposed forearms, as he had his linen shirt sleeve rolled to the elbow. His breath hitched at the touch. “I was hoping, perhaps, you might find me a bit more than interesting.” She let her lids drop just a touch as she looked at him, longing to reach out and nip his plush lower lip.

“I… I do. I find you-” She cut him off with her lips, just a soft kiss, held for just a moment longer than necessary. 

“Do you really want to talk right now?” She asked, slightly amused. 

He shook his head no. She kissed him again, a full kiss, long enough to feel him melt into her. She pulled back so they could both catch a breath. 

“Perhaps we should head to a slightly more private room.” He suggested shyly. 

“Your room?” She offered, then had a thought. “Unless you’d rather have me in your library.” The way his pupils suddenly shot wide at the suggestion told her everything she needed to know. She smiled knowingly. “Library it is. I believe I remember the way.”

She heard Tara’s soft feathers whoosh out of the way as they’d tumbled through the door, kissing each other against various walls occasionally and holding hands in between, impatiently tugging each other upwards towards the library at the center of the tower. They’d practically fallen through the doors, which he closed behind them, going back and turning a key as a second thought occurred to him.

She’d taken off her dress and stood in her gauzy chemise and small clothes, only a step above being naked on his oversized daybed that sat in the center of the space, acting as a sofa. He stood stock still for a second, flushed again. She tapped on the spot next to her on the bed. 

“Come here, sweet man. Please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”

He blushed and her stomach sank for a moment. “I mean, I’ve been with a few people, just… it’s always been a drunken night.”

She sighed. There was going to be much more talking. But, as long as she made clear what this wasn’t, it should be fine. “Gale. First, don’t be so worried. It’s just sex. The world isn’t going to end. Second, this is probably going to be way better. Sloppy drunk sex is not even similar to when it’s intentional. Come over here, and relax.”

He finally sat down on the couch next to her, letting out a long sigh. “I’m overthinking it, aren’t I?”

“I hear it’s one of the hazards of being a wizard.” She lifted an eyebrow at him. “You should kiss me again if you want to.” 

She felt immense relief when he leaned over and kissed her, gentle at first, but fairly quickly becoming quite insistent. She'd run the tip of her tongue over his plush lower lip, and he opened them up to her, sending his tongue, sweet with Elven wine, into her mouth. As he explored with his tongue, she’d run her hands up into his hair, discovering it was artfully disheveled, pomaded into that carefully laid mess. He moaned as her nails lightly scraped his scalp and she climbed onto him, straddling his lap, her chemise having ridden up to the bottoms of her silk smallclothes.

He grew bold, cupping her bottom with his hands and pressing her into the rather impressive bulge that had grown during their kissing. She pulled away for a moment, climbing over, which drew a little whine from him that made her grin. But rather than let him pull her back, instead she started untieing his robe. He took over, removing it so quickly she heard a seam tear slightly. He had stood up to remove it, and now he was there wearing nothing but linen breeches. He was considerably better muscled than she had expected of a wizard, and she also took in the scent of him that now was in the room. A warm, spicy smell that suited the location with its leather chairs and leather-bound books. 

“Why do you hide all of that under those robes? A silk shirt half laced would get you quite a few admirers with a body like that.” She said a little breathlessly. 

He flushed again. This time she got to see it deliciously carried down his chest. “Well, the robes are… well, traditional. And I suppose I’m not interested in someone who would only want me for my body.”

She stood up and kissed him again, using her hands to deftly unlace his breeches, sliding them down as she broke from his lips, freeing his cock from its prison. While he kicked them off his feet, she went to lift her chemise off, but he suddenly had his warm hands over hers, stopping her.

“Let me.” 

She let go, and he slid his hands under the back of her chemise, his slightly rough hands providing a delicious friction against her skin that was setting her nerves alight. He took his time pulling the gauzy shirt up and off of her. As he got it up to her shoulders he’d guided her back to the daybed, having her sit. He pulled the shirt a touch higher, and suddenly twisted the fabric, using it to bind her arms together lightly as he leaned over and took one of her nipples into his mouth, letting it pebble across his warm tongue as she let loose a soft sigh. She let him keep her bound for a bit as he played with her breasts, letting herself revel in his soft touches. The unusual feeling of the tiny bit of stubble on his face was a new sensation, but one she quickly found was not her favorite. 

She pushed back ever so slightly and he let go of the cloth, and she shimmied it off. He was smiling to himself when she looked at him. She was about to kiss him again when he pushed he back against the soft pillows they were on and got down on his knees before her. He slid her completely soaked smallclothes off of her gently and then looked down at her center in reverence.

“Gods, you are so… pretty here.” He ran a gentle finger along the edge of her folds, making her moan a bit at the light pressure, not quite where she wanted it. He let out a sigh, moaning a bit, and then his tongue was running gently over her clit. She closed her eyes as she felt him lifting her legs over his shoulders. This she appreciated. Only her female lovers had bothered thus far. His tongue brought her out of her thoughts as it pointedly swirled around the edges of her opening, pulling a deep groan from her as she felt the coiling start deep in her pelvis. 

He’d brought her to a moaning, shaking mess over the next hour, according to the chiming clock in the library. She’d come at least five times, but didn’t stop until she’d begged, overstimulated and dripping. When he’d crawled up over her, nibbling at her breasts again, his fingers carding into her hair and kissing her. She tasted good on his lips, the saltiness of herself mixing with the sweetness of the wine they had shared. She kissed him back deeply.

She let go a breathy sigh. “That was incredible, Gale.” 

He hummed against the side of her face. “You’re incredible. It was only what you deserved.”

They lay there quiet for a moment, but when she’d caught her breath again, she rolled him over, climbing on top of him. 

He gripped her hips with his hands. “Gods, I love how round you are here.” He guided her center on top of his cock, which seemed painfully hard. “Ride me. Please?” His brown eyes were big and pleading. She answered by lining up with him and sinking on him as slowly as she could manage. 

“Ah. Oh Gods!” He cried out as she got about half-way down. He was stretching her ever so slightly, causing her to bite her lower lip and arch her back slightly. She stopped her downward trajectory and began lifting back up, drawing a shuddering please from his lips. She repeated the action multiple times, each time going down slightly further than before. Finally, having teased him enough, he grabbed her hips hard, causing her the perfect amount of hurt as his fingers dug into the soft flesh and he drove all the way into her, hard.

He began fucking her from the bottom, thrusting upward in a punishing rhythm, making little rough noises and whines as he went. Once she adjusted to the change, she’d begun thrusting in time with him, feeling the warmth in her center building.

“Ailionora!” He groaned. “Oh, I… I …”

She felt him pulsing inside her, the heat of his seed sending her over her edge in a groan. After it ran through her, she collapsed onto his chest, sweating and breathing heavily. 

They lay there long enough for the sun to stream in the windows that looked out over the water. He’d fallen asleep and she’d rolled to the side a bit so he could breathe easier, let him sleep with his head on her chest. She perused the titles in his library. Most of which she could read, although there were a few she suspected were in infernal, which she could speak as it was essentially Latin, but she couldn’t read it.

She nudged him when she saw how low the sun was in the sky. 

“Hmmm?” He rubbed his eyes, yawning as he looked around. She watched the blush build on him as he remembered why he had taken an afternoon nap. 

“I thought I was having a dream. A rather pleasant dream, but a dream nonetheless.”

“No, silly wizard, no dreams. Just a rather exhausting tryst with a Quessira in your library.”

She cast a quick prestidigitation to take away the sticky and the worst of the smell, knowing she’d need a bath at home this evening. She began to get dressed, but he stayed on the bed, throwing a blanket over himself rather than dressing. 

“So, you have to run?”

“I’m a Lady. I can hardly be seen to stay the night. Plus, I’m not running out on you. We’ve been snuggling for almost three hours.” She turned towards the doors, and then had a sudden chill, turning back. “Please come with, Gale. I don’t know that this will turn into anything serious, but.. I’d like to explore it and see where it leads. There’s a spark here that intrigues me.”

Chapter Text

Ulder Ravenguard, Blaze of the Fist, was in his office in Wyrmguard Prison. The Spring Equinox was in a few days, and the citizens of the Gate were beginning to get restless. Petty crime usually falls quite a bit in the colder months, the Gate isn’t hospitable to being on the streets most of the year with the fog and the winds, but the winters are brutal. The return of warmer climes in Ches usually ramps up those held indoors for too long. Young men with too much idle time on their hands, the indigent desperate after such a long wait, and the professionals who take advantage of the surge in chaos. 

As such, he has been preparing the prison for its annual influx, making sure that the interrogators were well-prepared to sift the desperate opportunists. When he had been given this post, he decided that the focus of his career would be rooting out the Guild, and wasting precious time on starving orphans and men with more mouths to feed than coppers allowed the Guild to hide their activities. Some saw it as a soft touch, but he’d gotten enough headway that last year they’d put out a hit on him. When the poster had been found, he’d had it framed in his office, a point of pride that he was truly a thorn in their side.

He finished up his correspondence with the various commanders of the forts along the trade roads that the Fist managed, both for their benefit and protection of their home city. Trade by road was down again this year, the third year in a row, even though there had been few reports of bandits or monster attacks. The Patriars were beginning to complain of the sharp increase in luxury and exotic goods this had brought, enough that the Grand Duke Abdel had asked the Fist to take a look into the situation. He suspected it might be pushback from the Guild, but had little evidence to support it, so instead he dutifully gathered information from their network.

He looked out the arrowslit window in his office. The sun was almost set. He sighed as he stood, packing up his few personal goods to take home. He had missed dinner with his son for the third night in a row. The boy hardly complained, he had raised him well enough to understand the importance of duty, but it was still hard to see his sad eyes on these nights. He’d be at their small manor house, a gift from his late wife’s dowry, before it was full dark though, time enough for a bedtime story for Wyllym. 

Shadowheart was summoned to her Mother Superior’s office at the beginning of Tarsak and given a mission. This was not unusual. As a fully-fledged cleric of Lady Shar, now, she often got sent on missions. Usually to heal members of a congregation, or support others on important missions.  This was different. Shadowheart was to be the sole member of the team. The job was within the city itself, and it didn’t have a specific deadline, although she was, as always, eager to finish it quickly and prove herself to her Lady. Perhaps if she did well enough, she would grant her leave to pursue becoming a Dark Justiciar at last. 

So Shadowheart began sneaking into the archives of High Hall under the cover of darkness that night, looking for any piece of paper she could find on a piece of property in Tumbledown. She couldn’t understand why an abandoned building in the city’s poorest neighborhood was of interest to the Goddess, but it wasn’t her place to understand. She understood this.

The Greengrass Ball at High Hall was the start of the marriage season in the Gate, a month-long period in which every notable family with a marriageable child would host balls, teas, and salons to give their offspring the chance to mingle with the Gate’s good and great, and a chance for a betrothal to be agreed upon. Weddings were traditionally held no later than Flamerule, and it took a few months to organize a modest one. The grand ones needed a year or more. 

This flurry of activity was mostly populated by the humans of the Gate, the most numerous of species that lived here by far. A smaller amount of half-elves took part. Dwarves, tieflings, and the other humanoid species were rare among the elite, but they too appeared. Full elves were the rarest. Their numbers were few, they rarely had children, and Elves placed far less weight on marriage than the other ancestries when it came to alliances. This didn’t keep them away from the events, however, as they were also a great excuse to be seen and to make and deepen alliances based on other means.

Through a series of bribes, threats, and careful maneuvering, the High Hall ball was being held starting just after sunset, allowing one of the Gate’s more reclusive Lords to join. He had last attended a ball outside of his palace almost twenty years ago, so his acceptance was the subject of rumours amongst the Patriars. The three other Elven Lords of the Gate were less interested. They knew that at least once every twenty or so years, about a human generation, Lord Szarr bothered attending some major event, meeting the newest crop of the short-lived nobility as they gathered. 

Karlach Cliffgate was a sixteen-year old tiefling with an exuberant personality and a heart of gold. She was also huge: tall, muscular, and her boisterous laugh took up space. She’d had a hard time finding something she was good at. She’d left school, having learned to read and do a bit of basic math. She’d never much enjoyed reading outside of picture books and sitting still wasn’t in her wheelhouse.  She'd gotten in scraps with the pickpockets and cutthroats that roamed the outer city, but nothing serious. She’d thought about joining up with the Fist, but that could end up with her being stationed at any of their forts. There was no guarantee she’d stay in the city and she couldn’t bear to leave her family behind.

So when a couple of mates of hers started talking about a guy named Gortash being in need of protection, her ears perked up. Protection she could do. She asked around, not wanting to work for someone who was hurting people, but all anyone could say was that he was pissing off the Guild, which was good enough for her. The Guild preyed on neighborhoods like hers, so she was all for someone who pissed them off.

She’d made a day out of finding his office. Went with a few mates into the lower city, getting some Baldurian mash for lunch and a cold ale. Then she headed to the little office over a bakery where this Gortash worked. There was a young man who sat at a desk when she’d got upstairs, who asked if she had an appointment with Saer Gortash.

“I don’t have an appointment, but I hear he’s looking to hire protection. I’m looking for work, so I thought we might want to have a chat.”

The scrawny young man looked at her with the judgment she was rather used to from humans, and then got up and knocked on a door, opening it to whisper something inside. He came back to his desk and gestured her through. She bounced on over, nearly pulling the door off its hinges in her haste. 

“Sorry about that, Saer, sometimes I don’t know my strength.”

Gortash was young, perhaps only five years older than her. He had dark hair with a little too much pomade and wore a fashionable doublet. He looked like he had money and his manners spoke money, too.

“Sit, please. Start with an introduction, my dear.”

She sat down on one of the chairs opposite his desk. “My name’s Karlach. I’m looking for a job. I heard you were looking for protection. I’m strong, fast, and I’ve won all the scraps I’ve been in. And I’ve been in a lot of ‘em, ‘cause I live in Tumbledown.”

He got up from his desk and slowly walked around her, tilting his head, and finally putting one finger on the corner of his mouth for a brief second. 

“I’ll give you a trial. I’ll pay you four silver for the next week. If it goes well, it’s twenty gold per month pay. I expect you to be available whenever I ask, I have meetings at all hours. You’ll be in charge of guarding my office when it' s open, which is third day through eighth day during the afternoon. You’ll be my personal bodyguard all other places. I’ll get you some decent armor, a short sword, and daggers.”

She’d practically gagged at twenty gold. Twenty gold! That was enough to get her parents and her to a house in a much better part of town. Maybe even get a room of her own or a house with running water. Her mind briefly ran over the possibilities. She looked at this Gortash again. He seemed harmless. Kind even. She had a good feeling about this.

“Deal. When do I start?”

He smiled at her. “I do love the enthusiasm. Tomorrow morning, meet me here two hours after sunrise. I have an appointment at midday with a rather dangerous fellow.”

Tumbledown is one of the poorest neighborhoods of Baldur’s Gate, in the outer city, just through Cliff Gate.  A ramshackle neighborhood of poorly built shanties that collapsed occasionally, although those were always blamed on the ghosts that haunted the area, it hosted most of the tiefling population, along with an assortment of those that were far down on their luck but not yet utterly hopeless. It was also home, to the Cliffgate family, who had taken a surname from the neighborhood they were seemingly the only ones proud to call their home. 

Pluck Cliffgate was a builder by trade, but thanks to the prejudice against tieflings was working far below his abilities as a laborer. He spent many hours each tenday helping his neighbors to repair and shore up the shanties that dotted their neighborhood. Caerlack, his wife, worked as a shop girl in the lower city, selling flowers and other apothecary ingredients to those with the coin to spend. Her extra time that wasn’t spent with her over boisterous daughter Karlach, was spent beautifying their ramshackle neighborhood, planting gardens in wasted corners, picking up litter, and painting fences and other oft neglected elements. 

They were a happy family, to the annoyance of their downstairs neighbors who had to hear the raucous laughter that rang out practically every night. Pluck meant to keep it that way, and that meant keeping an eye on the street during the warmer months when his daughter had more time to find the kinds of trouble that would make a difference between her being happy or ending up a casualty of criminals with ambition. That mean he spent more time simply walking the streets, talking to neighbors, and gathering gossip than he otherwise would during Kythorn.

That’s when he first heard the rumors that a half-elven woman with rather severe fringe and black hair had been spotted skulking about an abandoned building near the edge of Tumbledown, and that those that had tried to check up on her had gone missing. He pulled Karlach aside. She was a headstrong sixteen-year old who didn’t like being told what to do and was awfully fond of getting into scrapes. But she promised him she’d stay clear of the ruins and any black haired half-elf who was near there, which he believed most because her new job was taking an awful lot of her time up.

Newly-minted member of the Council of Patriars, the Elven wizard Florrick had finally scored a coveted invitation to the Midsommer’s Masquerade at the Crimson Palace, the grand mansion owned by Lord Cazador Szarr. She had met him at the Greengrass Ball earlier in the year, and he had been instrumental in securing her appointment against one of the failsons of the Portyr family. They both agreed that more Elves being involved in the government would provide a better long-term view that humans often lacked.

Before coming, she’d been able to find precious few who would talk about what happens at his events. She knew that they were lavish, lasting until near dawn and that all anyone would say was that if you got an invite, it was a must-attend event. It was strange, usually Patriars were gushing about this luxury or that exotic indulgence available. It made her nervous and not in a good way, but she couldn’t afford to insult her supporter so soon by not attending. So she had gotten an extravagant ensemble, coming as a raven. 

The costumes ranged from very effective at hiding someone’s identity to barely there. Literally. Were she one of the naive human ladies she might have been blushing in shame, but she was hardly inexperienced, being over two hundred years old she had tried many things in her youth. The event was quite over the top, there were wine fountains in multiple rooms throughout the palace, and it seemed like incense and flowers blanketed every corner, making it smell exquisite. 

The dancing had lasted most of the evening, and she had taken turns with several Lords she had wanted to get words with, and with Lord Szarr himself, who had merely thanked her for attending. One could get a decent measure of people, Florrick believed, by dancing with them. She took the opportunity to seize up as many of her new colleagues as she could. It seemed like a quarter of the council of Patriars was present tonight. Most of them seemed weak, easily overwhelmed by the show of wealth here tonight. 

They weren’t looking at the edges of things. She had noticed that for all the opulence, the carpets were worn, the silk wallpaper had frayed edges in the corners, and the chandeliers had layers of wax buildup. There was a kind of decay about the place. If it wasn’t a lack of funds, then it was a lack of interest in keeping up the charade to the proper degree. Or… was it knowing that one doesn’t have to play the game anymore? 

At midnight, chimes rang out, and almost half of the guests left. She had been confused and stopped one of the servants who explained that only those that truly mattered were invited for the midnight feast and the activities that would follow. Her invite had said the festivities went until sunrise, so she supposed she must have been one of those who mattered. It was flattering in a way that made her wary. Lord Szarr was very charismatic, but there was something about his gaze that was hungry in a primal way, it scared her. And Florrick wasn’t easily scared.

It was following the dinner, when it was announced that the auction would start, and tamed vampire spawn of all things were brought out for sale, to raise funds for charity, of course, that her fear was overcome by curiosity. Florrick had always had a particular taste for the exotic. She couldn't help running her tongue over the sharp edge of her broken canine in anticipation. 

The price had been steep. Almost her entire salary for the month, but she had procured the creature for an entire weekend. It had been packed in her carriage by Szarr’s servants. She’d been assured that it would answer to her every command, she merely had to keep the creature out of any sunlight and return it by fourth day to the palace. 

The week after Midsommer, a fever had spread through Tumbledown. It wasn’t one of the terribly deadly ones, which the residents were thankful for. Only a handful of the very young, the very old, and the already weakened had passed, and it burned out after only a few weeks. 

All the members of the Cliffgate household had come down with it, but while Puck and Karlach had recovered within a few days, right as rain, Caerlack hadn’t. She lingered in bed, exhausted and weak. When she’d tried to get up a few times to make food, or even just reorganize a few things, she’d collapsed.

The sickness drug on for a month. Karlach was thankful at that time that she had good money coming in to pay for healers. They gave her potions and one even tried a greater restoration spell, but nothing helped. In the end, Caerlack had collapsed and never gotten up before the Autumn Equinox came.

It wasn't even a tenday later, not enough time to get her Mother in the ground, that Puck fell victim to an accident at work. A load of stones being hoisted by a pully had broken the rope that held them and came collapsing down from four stories up, taking out several of the laborers below who'd been taking measurements for a window. 

Newly seventeen, Karlach was left to bury her parents, having not had the time to find them that better house that her new job would have afforded them. The neighbors weren't annoyed anymore, because the house was silent. Karlach spent as little time there as possible, and shortly after, moved to a tiny flat near Gortash's office. It meant she could sleep in a bit more without having to walk clear across the lower city every day. But she missed her mates and her neighbors, and most of all, she missed her parents. 

Eleasis was halfway over when Duke Stelmane got a very unusual letter. First, it wasn’t delivered by messenger, rather, it was dropped off on the desk in her private study, deep within her manor, without a single of her staff spotting who delivered it. Second, it was written in draconic, which very few individuals were aware she could read. It spoke of an opportunity to get back at the guild and take control of a nascent competitor that could be persuaded to focus its activities on threats to the city, rather than the people of the city itself. 

Normally, she might have given such a blatant power grab little thought. But the import crisis had grown all summer, and the Fist had proven useless to deal with it. It was clear that theZhents and the Guild were working together to create this shortage, to drive up prices and anger the Patriars into opposing the Fists’ activities against the guild, as well as allowing the Zhents to gain footholds amongst those who grew desperate for those who had the coin to pay their prices. Goods were still coming in by ship, by the waters around the Gate were plagued by pirates and storms, making it far more dicey than the overland route unless speed was of the utmost importance.

The letter had offered a time and date to meet her contact. The place she would have to find. A test, the note had said, of her ability to move through the city undetected. The only clue was that the entrance could be found through the cellar under the kitchen of the Elf Song tavern. A challenge for one as recognizable as her to manage indeed without being spotted.

Mother Superior of the Shar Convent Viconia Viir was malcontent. This was not unusual, nor was the fact that the subject of her malcontent was the cleric Shadowheart. Since Lady Shar had personally sent her to recruit the young girl, at the time the daughter of a Selunite cleric, she’d been a thorn in Viconia’s side. 

She’d never been a good Sharran. Oh, she could spout the Sharran ways, and she was skilled at everything a good Sharran should be, but in her heart, she was kind . Kindness was not part of the Sharran character. Viconia had tried every way she could think of to stamp this character defect out of the girl. She’d had her bullied by others for years, and then given her the chance to enact her revenge. She forgave them, so Viconia wiped her memories. Then she had her torture her parents, who she had no memories of, over and over. But the girl, even not knowing who they were to her, kept bursting out in tears, even as she went through the acts.

She was simply not cut out to be a Sharran. If she was any other member of her coven, she would have thrown her out as a novice. But Lady Shar favored the girl for some reason, which angered her even more. Lady Shar had once favored Viconia, but she had failed her, and now she had been cast aside, relegated to managing this flock. And even in that, she was constantly overruled when it came to this one, irritating child, this favorite princess of her Goddess.

So while the failure on the part of Shadowheart to uncover exactly why the ancestral home of Lord Cazador Szarr was haunted after his rise to power wasn’t surprising, it continued to be frustrating. She’d truly hoped that she would have found something to report before the Autumn Equinox.

Stelmane had tried to find any information on the letter itself in the tendays leading up to the meeting date. She’d found the engraver who had sold the paper, but they stated it had been stolen in a break-in and had nothing further. That was all the evidence they had found. It made her quite nervous to be heading into such a thing blind. 

She got a decent disguise. A disguise self spell scroll, a deep hood, and some clothes bought second-hand in the lower city should keep keen eyes away. She headed out early in the afternoon on the autumn equinox in her disguise, weaving through multiple inns, looking over her should for any who might be following her, but finding no interest. 

She finally approached the Elfsong late into the evening. She came in the front, and walked through the packed crowd, avoiding the eyes of the bartender. She wasn’t here for a drink. She stood in a dark corner, watching the movement in and out of the kitchen, waiting for an opening to slip through undetected. It took almost an hour, but finally, the staff was switching off their breaks, giving her a chance to walk in when only the harried chefs would be near the door. They were far too busy to give a shit if a patron meandered in, as long as they didn’t get in the way.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been as focused on getting to the cellar, she might have noticed she was being watched out in the tap room, and was followed into the kitchen.

The autumn equinox was always a good night for hunting. Some years, Astarion had managed to bring back three unsuspecting victims for his master. The lonely, unwanted residents of Baldur’s Gate had just been paid, and the holiday meant they were out in force looking for a night to help them forget. So, of course, he had been sent out. 

He’d managed to get to the Elfsong first, meaning his other siblings would have to pick other hunting grounds. He hadn’t been there in months, making it safe enough. He’d managed to pick up a victim already tonight, finding them wandering near the wall by the palace, lost and sad. He hadn’t even had to bed that one, merely a handful of sweet words had brought them back, and Cazador in his eagerness for the feast that this holiday usually provided sent him right back out, not requiring him to satisfy his dinner first. 

He was sitting now at a small table in the corner, playing with this target's leg as he listened to the man drone on about how the ring he’d ordered from Waterdeep had never arrived and how it had ruined his betrothal or something. He didn’t care. He hadn’t cared about any of them in so very long, their faces blending into mush in his mind at this point.

“Darling, surely, no one could turn away such a handsome face as yours over a missing ring, could they?”

The man sighed bitterly. “Her mother said it proved I wasn’t reliable enough to take over their family business.”

He reached over, lifting the target's chin up with a soft finger, forcing him to look into his eyes. “Don’t you for a moment believe such nonsense. I bet you could be very reliable.” He dropped his voice down an octave, leaning over the table to breathe the next line into the human’s none-too-clean ears. “Couldn’t you? You could be so good for me, pet.”

Astarion rolled his eyes as the ale-soaked breath that emanated from the man stuttered, his face still hidden alongside the target's face. A few more exchanges, perhaps a grope or two out back, and he’d have him. He was already thinking through exactly what to say to get them moving as the man groped him and he elicited a few playful moans, pretending to be a bit embarrassed to be doing this in public when he spotted a curious thing. A woman was trying to sneak into the Elfsong kitchen.

He might have let it go, but he had seen her shoes. The nonprofessional sneak often forgets about their shoes when selecting a disguise, and this one was no different. Those were extremely expensive shoes, custom-made. He’d only ever seen one other pair, on the feet of Duke Stelmane at one of Cazador’s balls. He suddenly had a much more important mission. There were eight more hours until dawn, and the taproom of the Elfsong was teeming with lonely idiots. He could let this one go and find another, especially if it came with giving Cazador information like this. Perhaps he might even get two rats. Well, he knew better than to get his hopes up, but perhaps he wouldn't be flayed for no reason.

“Darling, I’m afraid I must decline your interest.” He said, sitting up straight and brushing away some invisible lint.

“What?!” The man was shocked, jumping back a bit from him. “Mystra’s tits, did you just see your wife or something? Did I do something wrong?”

“Me? Married? Perish the thought. No, darling, it’s not you, it’s me. I have standards, you see, and simply put, you don’t meet them.” He made the words as acidic as possible, knowing this sad sap would run out of the tavern, providing him with cover for his next move.

The man was predictable, bursting into tears, walking away, and then running out the door, slamming it as he left. As everyone turned to catch what had just happened, he slipped into the shadows along the back wall, getting to the kitchen, where he flirted his way in, making promises to return after fulfilling the dare he had made to his friends. He looked around, but the well-shod woman was nowhere to be found. There was only one door in or out, so he searched until he spotted the trap door. He looked around, but the staff was far too busy to pay close attention to him, so he very quietly went down the ladder into the cool, stone room, immediately placing himself in the shadows. 

He spotted her right away, looking at the wall behind a series of wine shelves. He held his breath, watching to see what she did. When she opened a hidden door and went through, he decided he had enough information that would perhaps earn him a reprieve, and went back upstairs to find a second target for the night. For once, things went well for him when he acted without explicit instructions, earning him when he returned with his second target not only a second, live rat, and a hot bath without further assignments for the day. A rare rest while clean and as well fed as he ever got to be.

On the first day of High Harvestide, The Singing Whale pulled into Grey Harbor, amidst frigid waters and cresting waves. The sailors took almost an hour getting the ship into its narrow berth, fixing the lines, and moving cargo off. The bosun gave the ships hands their pay in pouches and released them to the taprooms of the Gate. The captain came then to their berth, where the Ailionora, Gale, and Arridae were sitting, waiting nervously for their sign to leave.

Chapter Text

The rest of her time in Waterdeep was spent with her newfound ‘family.’ Ailionora hadn’t realized how much she had craved this feeling. The group here had truly accepted her as one of their own and made her feel welcome. Loved, in a way. She found herself getting sadder and sadder as the day of their departure came closer because she would likely not see these people for a very long time, if ever. 

The only offset to it had been her time with Gale. He’d taken a leave from Blackstaff, leaving most of his days free to show her every part of his city. She could tell how much he genuinely loved his home, was truly proud of it. He seemed to know even the roughest parts, taking her to the little taprooms of the Dock Ward, but also knowing the best parks in the wealthy Sea Ward as well. And then, after each of their adventures, they’d end up back in his library, exploring each other with an intensity that often took her breath away when she thought about it. 

Really, if she didn’t have a mission, her life here would have been perfect, she thought to herself one night. And then felt horrible almost immediately as she remembered that while she was playing perfect family and having the best sex of her entire goddamn life every night, there was a man a thousand miles away in slavery, waiting for her to set him free. 

She sighed, sitting on Gale’s balcony, waiting for him to wake from lengthy human sleep. The other problem with Gale, more than a little related, was that she should never have invited him to join her. It was a moment of weakness. She was choosing to blame it on his incredible lengual skills as opposed to her deep-seated insecurity about being found attractive. But she had begun to realize that he had read it as them being far more serious than she had any desire to be. The sex was incredible, but she could already tell that as a couple, they would never work. He was entirely too needy about having to be the smartest person in the room at all times, and she couldn’t stand his mother. 

She heard him stirring in the room. She had left the door cracked so she could join him when he woke up, but she loved watching the sun rise over the ocean from the balcony. She’d only seen the ocean a few times back on Earth, but the waters here had the exact color of blue-green-grey as the ocean off of Virginia Beach. One more bit of nostalgia she’d forgotten about until seeing the water had reawoken the memory.  She stood up and went in, closing the door behind her with a firm click. Gale was strangely concerned about sailors getting a peak from the harbor, which seemed unlikely to her. 

“Good morning, Gale.” She said, pulling his robe tighter around herself. 

He yawned, stretching his arms out. “How was the sunrise?” 

“Pretty. You want some coffee? I made it a little while ago, but it should still be hot.”

He kicked the sheet off himself, stretching out rather like a cat. “I can think of something hot I’d rather have on my tongue than coffee.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are insatiable. I can’t believe after last night you can still talk.”

“And I am confounded that I left you with the ability to walk, and yet you’ve been all the way to my kitchen and back.” He smiled and his eyes got a certain gleam to them. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in allowing me the chance to rectify my mistake while we still have this private room and a rather comfortable bed?”

“I barely have time for a goodbye kiss and getting dressed. I have to get home and change for my last official engagement as a Lady of House Nightstar in Waterdeep. And then tomorrow, at dawn, we need to be at the harbor to catch The Singing Whale. The captain was quite insistent that he wasn’t going to wait.”

He sat up, grabbed her hand then kissed it. “My dearest Ailionora. I wouldn’t miss a single day to be with you. Besides, I have always had a curiosity of what it is like to travel the sea. Why, as a young lad I was quite fond of a series of pirate stories.”

She laughed thinking about Gale, careful, studious Gale who worried about his creature comforts with the same care as he worked on his magic, going on an adventure at sea. “I’m sorry, I just don’t see it. You like a good dinner and your cozy library far too much to be a pirate.”

“I think I’d make a keen adventurer. Sailing across seas, walking across continents. Why, I'd be gloriously in my element, constantly learning and recording new things.”

She smiled, giving him a slightly longer bit of kissing than she strictly had time for, throwing her clothes from the day before on and practically running out the door afterward. She’d promised she’d be on time to tea.

It was chilly next to the water this early in the morning, a marked change from the hot weather the city had struggled under for the past week. She hadn’t worn her cloak and instead had packed it, not expecting to need it. Her adopted family had come with to bid her goodbye, which made her feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside. She’d hugged them all tightly, shedding more than a few tears at their separation as they left back towards their manor. 

She’d gotten most of it out before Arridae pranced down to the pier, whistling in the way she knew meant he’d had an exceptional bed partner the evening before. She raised an eyebrow at him and he stopped. “Arridae, had a good evening?”

“Always, my dear. It is nearly impossible for me to have a bad evening in a city such as this. I am a bit concerned about this boat trip, but it is said that one must suffer for their art. I suppose three months without distraction will give me time to write some new material.” He suddenly brightened, looking around. “Although, if your pet wizard isn’t joining us, my offer to you still stands.

Gale had been walking towards them from behind the bard for a bit and was plenty close enough to hear the bard’s little speech. 

“Ah, Arridae. I do apologize, but I must inform you that the pet wizard is indeed here. Although I would never be so forward as to speak on her behalf, she will have to reject any offers you have made herself.”

It was the first time Nora had ever seen the wizard be anything but overly friendly or placating, and she found she rather liked him exerting a little dominance. She cleared her head to stare back at Arridae, who was looking at her like he was considering something. “Arridae, first, Gale is an accomplished wizard and the Chosen of Mystra. He is not anyone’s pet. Second, I’ve already politely declined you, so let me be more direct. I have no desire to have sex with you, whether or not anyone else was available.”

“I just thought I’d remind you of what your options were. But, to each their own.” Arridae scoffed, then pouted as he moved his trunk a bit further down the pier, putting space between them.

She was shivering despite trying not to, and Gale immediately came over and wrapped her in his cloak. She looked back at him, worried once again that they were squarely in relationship territory. She was quite out of her element with this, having had nothing but occasional trysts before. “Gale, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Ah, but I did. You know that you can see this pier from my kitchen. A kitchen where I guarantee Tara is hovering and staring out at us. If she saw you shaking like that and I was cad enough to ignore it, well, I’d be getting a good what-for from her when I returned.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “There is also the small manner that I like taking care of you, but I assure you I am well aware that you are quite capable of taking care of yourself. I would never mean to imply otherwise.”

She laughed. “Am I that obvious?”

“You are a rather stubborn and self-reliant woman, Ailionora. I quite enjoy it about you. Very different from the typical Waterdhavian noblewoman.”

“Well, I was taught when I was small-”

“Was this before you lived among Elves?” He inquired.

“Yes.” She bit back a retort. “Where I grew up, people were very poor, had almost nothing, and lived in a very isolated place where a good snowfall could easily mean having to survive on your own for a month or more. It was part of their culture that their children needed to be prepared for that kind of hardship. It’s been decades since then, but some things are hard to shake.”

He looked off at the ocean thoughtfully. “I must say I cannot relate. My parents were quite doting. Too doting, sometimes, looking back at it. My biggest struggle was not being able to find friends my age who understood how I saw the world, how I felt it, being so connected to the Weave. I will never regret this incredible gift I was given, but it has, at times, made for a rather lonely life.”

Before they could talk anymore, the Captain came out on deck and invited them on board. Nora went to pick up her chest but Gale waved her off, casting a spell that floated his dozen chests and her single one up onto the ship. She noticed he didn’t even offer to help Arridae, who was struggling with his two. 

The accommodations on the ship were rather lackluster by the standards she had grown accustomed to, but still far better than even the best she had on Earth. A tiny room a single bed that was secured to the floor. It had decent sheets and a thin blanket. It was summer, so she didn’t imagine she’d get very cold. Her trunk easily fit between the bed and the ship’s hull which formed the wall, keeping it in place. A mirror was mounted to the interior wall, and a half barrel was secured in the remaining tiny bit of floorspace, she was certain to serve as a washbasin. 

When the Captain’s assistant had shown them the room, he mentioned a second room and then directed Gale and Arridae to it. It was the same size and layout but had bunk beds. Gale looked at her with his big, brown puppy dog eyes, and she sighed. “You can stay in my room. I’m sure that will help you focus on your music better, Aridae.”

Arridae shot her daggers with his eyes.

They’d been at sea for two weeks when she and Gale had their first real fight. It had started when he’d been practicing the intonation of some language he was trying to learn. Something ancient she’d never heard of, but involved a great deal of throat crackling. Her head had been pounding, probably because she was still throwing up multiple times per day from the intense nausea. When he’d gotten to what felt like the hundredth repeat of attempting to pronounce what she was certain was the same syllable, she’d snapped.

“Gale! Can you please be quiet?! My head hurts so bad.” She’d groaned a little as the boat rocked particularly hard.

He’d sucked in air through his teeth, something she’d never heard him do. “I shall see what can be done about it. Mystra demands that I become fluent in Loross. There are tomes where I am going that will require translation. As much as wish for your good opinion, I must bow to the desires of my Goddess.”

She felt like she’d been slapped. “Well, in that case, perhaps you can go and bow to her desires somewhere else. The deck. The bunk in the other room. Literally anywhere I don’t have to listen would be lovely.”

He looked shocked. “You’d… you’d send me away? Just like that? You knew I was Her Chosen before and it did not seem to be an issue.” He looked hurt, but damn her head was pounding, her stomach was roiling, and she was fucking hurt, too.

“Gale, I feel like shit. Please, can we have this out another time? I really, really, really need quiet or I’m going to start puking again.” 

He sighed as she buried her face in the bed pillow, and she heard him packing up his book, parchment, and quiver. “I’ll be back later tonight. I will require that we discuss this if you are feeling less seasick.”

She’d tried to agree but it just came out as a pitiful moan of pain.

Four hours of blissful unconsciousness later, she woke up to the boat being on smooth waters for what felt like the first time in weeks. She got dressed in clean clothes after washing the sticky sweat off her as best as she could and went up on deck to breathe in the fresh, cool air of nighttime. She encountered Gale sitting in a corner between two of the deck boxes, scratching away with his quill. 

“The water’s finally calm.” She said, trying to break the quiet between them.

“Hmmm?” He looked up and around. “Oh. Indeed it is. Are you feeling better, then?”

“Yes.” She let it sit in the air for a moment. “Sorry if I was a bit of a bear earlier. Nausea is the worst, for me.”

“Ah, I can understand, in retrospect, that perhaps listening to someone repeatedly make throat noises for hours whilst you feel green in the face might be a tad unpleasant.” He looked a little sheepish. “I’m sorry I was so quick to anger, myself. It is just that Mystra is putting quite a lot of pressure on me. Before I became her Chosen, she visited me for years, even during her changes. Elminster and Her were always encouraging me. But now… it is like I have somehow angered her just as it seemed I had earned her favor.”

There was hurt on his face as he said it. “Gale, perhaps She just has a lot going on right now? Even Gods have bad days. I would know.” She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror, realizing what she just said. 

He stared at her, and she swore she could see his brain processing in his eyes. “You would know?” He looked up at her, suddenly looking at her quizzically.

“Uh, well, I mean… I’m not supposed to talk about it. I shouldn’t have… I just didn’t want you to think you had to have done something. Sometimes, well at least one of them, gets pissy? Like throws full-on tantrums.” She was full-on freaking out and not holding it together at all. If someone had opened up her mind, the word ‘shit’ was sounding on repeat like an EDM song.

“So, you have personal experience with at least one divine being, who sometimes throws tantrums?”

Her face was back in her hands. “Can we talk about this…” She stopped, letting her mind calm for a moment and function. “I can’t talk about it. But please know, it doesn’t have to be something you’ve done. I can’t think of one thing you’ve done, Gale, that could bring Her wrath on you.”

Gale sighed. “Come sit by me. We can talk of other things, although you should know that I am an excellent puzzle-solver, so I may find my way to the answer without you needing to tell me.”

She sat down next to him, curling her legs up underneath her so as to not disturb his papers. She leaned her head over onto his shoulder, feeling his rough stubble against her forehead. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you. I imagine that you now, more than most, understand that burden.”

“I have to admit, it does pain me to know that you have kept a large secret from me this whole time. Is this why you are headed to the Gate?”

“You have to know I can’t tell you that. Sweet man, I’m not a puzzle to be solved. Just a complicated girl who doesn’t fit anywhere. Gods, my family in Waterdeep, whom I’m only barely related to. Well, they acted like the closest to real family I’ve had since I was twelve years old. Even my mother never took much care of me. And my father… well that, that is a quite complex tale. But he isn’t the fatherly type.” She let out a long breath. 

She felt him change positions, putting an arm around her. “You know, my father left when I was young. My mother always made sure I didn’t want for his absence and told me a million times that it wasn’t anything to do with me, but I’ve always wondered. If perhaps I had been less different, not destined to be a wizard, if he’d have stuck around. It always leaves one with a wound, when a parent isn’t there for us.” He let his voice trail off as he said it.

They’d stayed on the deck, talking about various things, until the stars came out. Then Gale taught her all the constellations he could find until they both began to yawn with exhaustion and headed back to the tiny bed to rest.

The day was hot, but a cool, strong breeze was coming off the sea. The ship was making good time for the first time since they’d left port a month ago, and the sailors were in an excellent mood. Arridae was out on deck, playing a dancing song on his lute he’d written earlier in the trip, testing it out with an audience. Even the Captain, who was usually a dour man, had upturned lips that afternoon.

Nora was sitting on the deck in the very lightest dress she owned, her hair in a braid over her shoulder to keep it from whipping about in the breeze. She was writing in her journal. She kept her journals in English, an easy enough way to ensure that her thoughts remained private. She smiled, remembering the first time on the journey Gale had tried to sneak a read over her shoulder, only to be completely befuddled by her writing

What… what curious script are you using there?

 

The writing I learned when I was small. I told you I was raised for a bit on another plane. Did you think that script was the same everywhere? 

 

I suppose, well, I suppose that I have never given it much thought. Obviously, it would be different. For instance, the Githyanki use a script called Tir’su. Difficult to learn, but there is a scholar at Blackstaff who has been researching it for decades. He’s supposed to start teaching a course in it in a few years. Perhaps I should enroll.

 

So, the way this script works, there are twenty-six characters. Each of them has at least one sound they correspond to, although some have more than one, which depends on how they are used. Also, the language itself is one with influences from dozens of others, so also, it depends sometimes on which other language the word came from. So, for instance, this word here, ‘lug’, this character g, makes the sound ‘guh.’ But on this page, this word ‘barge,’ the character makes the sound ‘juh.’ And then here, ‘tough’, is because when you put those four characters together, o, u, g, and h, it makes the sound ‘uhf.’ And then here, ‘night,’ the g and h makes the i sound like ‘eye’ instead of ‘ih.’

 

Ailionora, I do not mean to disparage your language, but that is truly an asinine writing system. By Mystra’s Grace! How could someone have any clue how a word sounds if they’ve only seen it in text?

 

They don’t. That’s why it's a very, very hard language to learn. The grammar also has many rules like that. It makes for an excellent cipher for my private thoughts. There was a joke there, that it wasn’t one language, it was nine languages in a coat.

She smiled, imagining Gale arguing with a University English teacher over the complex rules of the language.

“And what could that beautiful smile be inspired by?” She looked up to see Gale standing in his usual purple robe, his hair tied back in a ponytail due to the wind. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down to the deck.

“Why, Gale Dekarios, I was just sitting here thinking about you and that clever mind of yours.” She lilted the words, feeling a bit flirty. He did look rather delectable with his hair tied back and his face freshly shaved smooth.

His brown eyes practically melted and he grinned brightly. “Well, I do love to be the inspiration of your good days. Speaking of which, I’ve got cookies that I hid away for the journey that are about to go off, so I was hoping you might help me finish them. Have something akin to a proper tea today?”

She leaned over and whispered to him, “I’ll follow you to our room, but there’s not going to be anything proper about it.”

She was close enough to hear him swallow. She loved how he still got nervous whenever she did something even remotely close to talking dirty, It was kind of adorable how it flustered him but he never chided her or asked her to stop like her previous lovers. That was the nice thing about Gale. She was technically older, but he felt much more her age than the Elves her age in Evereska did. She was beginning to get an inkling of why there were so many half-eves in Faerun.

They’d barely made it to the cabin, which Gale hastily barred shut, when Ailionora practically grabbed the man and threw his back up against the wall, kissing him greedily. She was pressed up against him, feeling how hard he already was. She untied his robe quickly, sliding it off of him and dropping it on the ground. 

He’d tried to start unlacing her gown. She put the flat of her palms on his shoulders and pressed him against the door, the bar forcing his back to arch slightly. “There will be none of that right now. My turn.” She’d murmured the words as she pressed kisses across his currently smooth neck, across his collar bones, and down the flat plane of his slightly soft chest. 

She dropped to her knees, looking up for a split second to make sure Gale was still willing. He nodded slightly, breathing hard. She smiled and untied the lace on his breeches, then grabbed the lacing with her teeth and pulled them loose enough to pull down the soft linen garment along with his small clothes. She took a moment to close her eyes and appreciate the musky but clean smell of him, touched with a hint of a smokey incense, as she ran her cheek along his cock, eliciting little mewls of pleasure.

When she began to worship him in earnest, she started with her hands. Gently cupping his balls, teasing them with the soft pads of her fingertips as her tongue did the same feather-light touches to his cock. She took her time with this, sneaking looks up occasionally to catch his face with his eyes mostly closed and his head tilted back, mouth open in a heady fog. It gave her a coil of heat deep in her pelvis watching him enjoy himself so thoroughly.

A groan from his lips and the whisper of her name like a prayer told her it was time to move on. She started nipping him with her lips, taking time to give extra attention to the sensitive little bit on the head. She then took him in her mouth fully, to a deep groan from him that intensified as she took him further and further in. When he’d gotten to the back of her mouth, right to the edge of what she could take, she glanced upwards at him and caught his gaze at her. She held it, relaxed her throat as fully as she could, and slowly pushed him into it while his eyes popped wide open in shock.

She hadn’t done this for him yet. He’d never really let her take her time with him, and she was glad after the thoroughly debauched two months they’d been together she could still shock him. 

“Oh. my. Goddess…” He moaned above her, his body going taut and his hands sliding over the back of her head. Not moving it, almost protectively holding it. She had to pull back a bit and breathe. 

A strand of her hair had broken free from her braid and had plastered itself to her face with a mixture of sweat and the sticky saliva that occasionally was escaping from the corners of her mouth. She’d clawed it off so it wouldn’t get in her mouth as she pulled him back into her throat, swallowing a few times, enjoying the loud, desperate sounds coming from him. He was desperately thrusting forward now, so she moved her hands to press his hips against the door behind him, holding him still so she could make her movements more deliberately.

As she pulled off to catch her breath, she used her tongue to swirl around his shaft, running it flat across that sensitive bit near the head and swiping it across his heavily weeping slit, tasting the salt of him. She kept that pattern up, going down, pulling him into her throat with a swallow, pulling up slowly and playing with her tongue, taking a deep breath, and starting all over. All the while, his whines and groans and thrusts of his hips became ever more erratic and desperate.  

He suddenly leaned over, grabbing her by the shoulders and nearly tossing her onto the bed. Taking in the sight of what she knew was an utterly debauched mess, but he seemed to love it.

“You gorgeous, insane woman. I have to have you. Please Ailionora.” 

She answered by hiking up her skirt and chemise underneath of her. He grabbed her underwear and slid them down her legs and off, tasting her to her pleasant surprise while he did it. She’d had to bite back a moan, as sensitive as she was from pleasuring him. 

He’d taken no time, a single taste, and now he was on top of her, his cock hot and hard against her as he found the angle he wanted. In moments, he had her pinned down now, her wrists in his hands, pinned to the mattress while he fucked her with utter abandon, wild, bucking thrusts that bruised as he bottomed out but felt fucking amazing to her in the moment.

It kept going and going and going, the coil of heat and pleasure and want tightening within her so powerfully she couldn’t think anymore. 

“Gale… don’t stop… please just don’t stop…”

Her voice was desperate, cracking from how dry her throat was from gasping and panting so hard. He somehow thrust harder into her, tilting her hips up just perfectly to let his whole length in, keening loudly as he did so. That feeling of being beyond full combined with the sound he had made pushed her over the edge and the coil released suddenly, blinding her with white-hot pleasure that made her scream his name. Just as she started to come down, she heard him gasp out her name as she felt him pulsing in her, his hot spend filling her. 

He collapsed on her, and they lay there, sticky and sweaty and panting for long enough that she’d started to drift off. She came to when she felt his weight shift off of her, felt the familiar tingle of a prestidigitation spell clean up the stickiness of their fluids on her. 

“Always so considerate, aren’t you?” She mumbled, smiling with a fuck-drunk face.

Gale looked at her, a similar smile on his face. “You are a remarkable distraction from my studies, Ailionora Lathanyll.”

“I thought I was distracting you from afternoon tea right now?” She kissed him languidly. “Now, where are these cookies you’ve hidden? I’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

They were about two tendays away from Baldur’s Gate when she realized Gale was pulling away from her. He’d started spending almost the entire day studying now, whereas before studying was something he fit around spending time with her. 

They’d gone from having sex three times a day to not even every night. That had started very slowly, almost a month ago, and she’d thought it was the natural progression of things. After all, it was a little over the top how much they’d been all over each other. But then she began to notice other little things.

He’d stopped making her tea in the morning. She had to ask him now if he wanted to join her for dinner instead of him swooping in to remind her of the delights that awaited them at repast. When he came to their bed, as tiny as it was, he seemed to try and settle himself to they touched the least possible. That was the newest change.

They were five-ish days from the city when she’d finally confronted him. She’d spent the morning on deck, practicing her harp, playing an arrangement she’d written of Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush. She’d spent a great deal of time when she was in Arvendor trying to write down all the music she could remember from Earth, especially because with her terrible voice singing it wasn’t going to be helpful.  Her fingers were sore from playing, waiting for him to come up for his morning walk.

When he hadn’t and it was nearly noon, she went back to their room. She was usually very good about giving him space when he asked, but she needed to put her harp away so she could eat. When she’d entered, she saw the strangest thing. Gale was sitting there on the floor of the room, his eyes glowing purple. He occasionally twitched and groaned, otherwise it was as though he wasn’t there. She figured it was some kind of magic thing, and went to put her harp in its case, and then put it back into her bag of holding. 

All of a sudden she heard him behind her, taking in a hiss of breath. “Why are you here?!” He shouted it in anger, which confused her.

“I’m putting my harp back in its case. I waited all morning but you never left the room, and I wanted to eat lunch. I can’t leave it out where it might get salt water on it.” She’d explained, latching the leather and cedar wood case closed and sliding it into the bag. 

He was quiet while she finished, not following up. “So… what was that, the purple eye thing?” She’d asked, trying to break the awkward silence before she asked the question she'd come to ask.

“It wasn’t for you to see.” He hissed. “Not everything is for you.”

She sat down on the bed, unsure what was going on but getting more angry by the second. 

“Gale, what in the Hells is going on with you, with us?” She asked.

He looked up at her, surprised. “You’ve noticed. I was hoping to say something first.”

“You’ve tired of me. It’s ok. Not the first time, won’t be the last. I know you haven’t had much experience in relationships, so potentially you didn’t know, but it’s best to break up with the person when you have that feeling before it makes you yell at them.” She sighed, a little defeated, but also relieved. It was honestly better. She’d have had a very hard time keeping him and her mission separate, and while she enjoyed Gale’s company among other things, she wasn’t exactly in love with the man.

“I’m not…  It’s not you, Ailionora.” He said, sounding defeated.

“Oh? So it’s you then?” She asked, a little bitter that he’d take her for being that naive.

“No. It’s Her .” His voice was at once reverent, but also afraid. 

Her emotions rushed out of her, leaving a void in the pit of her stomach, cold with fear. “She’s… jealous. Of me . That is… well, honestly, it’s a little unexpectedly ego-boosting, but mostly it’s so stupid. Obviously, you’d always pick her over me.”

He looked up at her sharply. “I didn’t want to. Therein lies the problem. She sensed my reluctance to push you away to devote myself more fully to her, and then she got angry.” He closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face. “I’m not sure I understood fully what it meant to be a Goddess’ Chosen. I don’t want to give you up.”

“Oh, Gale. You are a darling man, but as much as I like you, and I do like you, we are not the kind of star-crossed lovers that are worthy of angering a god over. If you had told me, we could have solved this long ago.”

His eyes were back open. “We’re not? Then you and I must have very different experiences of our relationship, my dear. I had fully planned on proposing to you as soon as I could meet your guardian in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Oh.” Her eyes searched his for some kind of follow-up, a notion that it was a tease, but nothing but sincerity shown in those pools of chocolate. “I see. I… I enjoyed our time together. Not just the sex, you are a delightful person to spend time with. But I am nowhere near ready to make any kind of declaration like that, and perhaps, in a few decades, we might have grown that close-”

He looked at her, a little pain in his eyes, but a tiny smile on his lips. “Right. Elf. I forget, sometimes, the differences between us are far vaster than the shape of our ears. You never once made me feel any less for being human, and I think that led me to forget that you’ll be here for six or seven of my lifetimes. A few decades would be far too long for me to wait for love, I think.”

“Well, that sums it up, doesn’t it?” She looked around the room. “Are you going to be able to handle staying here for the next few days? I’d hate for either of us to be subjected to sharing with Arridae. And before you try to offer up like a gentleman, please be aware he will be no less desperate to get into your pants than he would be mine. That man is a menace. I fully expect him to leave a path of half-elven babies in the city.”

“Are you going to be ok being here with me? Won’t it be awkward?”

“It will, but we are both adults, Gale. I’m not angry with you and I would hope you aren’t angry with me simply because we are on two different paths when it comes to love. I’d like to part ways with you as friends. Real friends.”

He smiled brightly. “I’d like that, too.”

They’d pulled into port at dawn on the first day of High Harvestide, a massive, three-day long festival. The water was rough and it took the crew a long time to maneuver the ship into the slip they were assigned by the Harbormaster.  The three of them had gathered in the crew room with their things. The Bosun had strictly ordered them to stay below deck until the Captain came, explaining that until the sailors got paid and off the boat, the deck could get rowdy and fast.

Gale was pacing, muttering about how much work he was leaving behind in his tower. Nora had already talked with him about his plans, that he was going to be staying at The Rose Garden Inn just off The Wide, and she had promised to meet up with him in a few days, or at least send a message. Their fling, as sudden and overwhelming as it had begun, had faded well already to a warm friendship she hoped would last a very long time. He’d revealed that he’d be leaving for Elturel as soon as spring broke next year at the urging of Mystra. Some artifact was there that she wanted secured by her followers.

Arridae was calmly draped over a seat, playing his lute half-heartedly. Mostly he was complaining about the wait. He had hoped to arrive a tenday ago to be able to secure at least one gig for the holiday, now all he could hope was to find a tavern with a cancellation. His frustration had calmed down at this point to an inevitable air of disappointment. They had no plans to meet up, but he knew she’d be staying at the Nightstar manor in the Upper City, and could certainly send a message to her there should he wish. She had no real ill feelings towards the shameless rake, but she didn’t like him much either. He was exactly the kind of arrogant, egotistical asshole that was the stereotypical High Elf, and worse, he didn’t have the talent to back it up. 

She got up calmly when the Captain came in, thanking him for his assistance. One of his deck boys picked up her single trunk. It was mostly for show as her real valuables were in the bag of holding tucked into her stays, but in the human cities, one must make certain that your wealth is visible at all times in the upper circles. So she had bought this trunk in Waterdeep, a prettily enameled cedar box with bronze hinges and a sturdy lock, and filled it with a few extra outfits she had picked up in the city as well. She also had a small pouch tucked in her overcoat with trinkets for the children of House Nightstar she had brought from Evereska.  

When they reached the docks, the deck boy gestured for her to follow to the carriage way, while the others headed on foot into the city. He sat down her trunk, and she passed him a few coppers with her thanks. Her accent was much improved after the long journey. She still had a bit of a twang that would perhaps always be with her, but she’d learned to smooth her dipthongs and clip the gutteral sounds more acceptably, sounding reasonably upper class. According to Gale, she sounded like she had an exotic but posh accent now, rather than the country sound she had started with. 

She spotted her carriage by the eight-pointed star on its livery, the symbol of House Nightstar. An elegantly uniformed half-elven man stepped out, offering his hand to her. 

“Lady Ailionora, I presume.” He greeted her in flawless Elvish. “I am Eldar, head footman of Lord Haldraithen. I have been bade to ensure your safe passage through the city to Twilight Manor. Please point me to your baggage so I may load our carriage.”

“You presume correctly, Eldar.” She smiled. “I appreciate the kindness offered by my kin. I have only this one trunk with me. As you can see, I lived lightly in Evereska.”

“I am honored to be the first to welcome you to Baldur’s Gate, my Lady.” He gave a small bow, which made her American heart twitch a bit. She’d have to get over this lingering feeling that the aristocracy was entirely icky. She forced a smile at the man, allowing him to provide unnecessary help up into the carriage. She settled in, watching out the window as they began the winding ascent from the main gate to the Upper City.

Chapter Text

Laraneith Manor was the home of the Nighstar family in Baldur’s Gate. Her first view of it was as the carriage pulled through the gates opened by liveried servants. It was a three-story building with a front colonnade that reminded her a bit of a Greek temple. It was set in a grand park, overly manicured to her eyes, a fact that made her worry a touch. To see an Elf controlling nature as such felt very, very wrong. Long walkways of marble chips contained by quartz bricks graced the lawn, and white rosebushes, carefully pruned, were interspersed with evergreen shrubs carved into clean rectangles. A fountain graced a plaza in front of the doors, and to the side, where she was headed in the carriage, there was an overhang from the carriage house to the manor. 

She was helped out of the carriage by a butler, an elderly human man with a shock of white hair and kind blue eyes, deep set in a face filled with laughter lines. He held himself with grace as she walked down the steps he had brought to the ground. 

“Good morning, m’Lady Ailionora. I am Theodore, the Head Butler of Laraneith.”

She smiled at him. “Good morning, Theodore. Thank you for the kind greeting.”

“The footmen will deliver your things to your room while I show you the house. First, if you follow me inside I will take you to a refreshment room.”

Ailionora had learned in Waterdeep that the Baldurian upper classes refuse to say restroom. She was glad she knew that because otherwise, she would have assumed a refreshment room was where one might get a bit of breakfast. After she’d used the facilities and washed her hands and face, she emerged ready for the rest of the tour.

“M’Lady, if you will follow me, I will show you where the library, dining room, the Lord’s study, and the conservatory are. There, one of the ladies’ maids will show you to your room so you can get changed to join the Lord for lunch.”

“That would be delightful, Theodore.”

The tour had been shorter than she had feared, as it was already late morning when she arrived. She’d gone up to the room, where her chest already sat. She’d quickly changed into a clean, but similar styled linen gown, and then had combed out and rebraided her hair into a half-up style with a crown braid, leaving the bottom of her hair down in rippled waves. 

When she’d opened the door, she’d been startled by a woman who’d been about to come in, carrying a stack of linens. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, m’Lady. I came as soon as they told you was here.” She was human woman in her early twenties, with light brown hair pulled up into a severe bun, wearing a pinafore livery dress in the house colors. The woman hurriedly placed the stack of linens in the cabinet by the bathroom. “My apologies.” She curtsied. “I’m Sara. I’m to be your lady’s maid.”

Nora gave her the softest smile she could. “Sara, it is lovely to meet you. My name is Ailionora, which is what I would like you to call me when we are in this room if it would please you. You can hardly be held responsible for what you were not told, dear. Now, I am already ready for luncheon, but in the trunk are several outfits that could use laundering, if you could see to that happening. Otherwise, I suspect I will not be returning until late this evening.”

Sara looked surprised at that idea but curtsied nonetheless. Nora nodded goodbye and headed out of her room and down the hall, where Theodore reappeared. 

“Lady Ailionora, please allow me to escort you to the conservatory.” She’d nodded and followed the butler through the house.

When she walked into the room, once again she was met by a deeply unpleasant feeling. So many plants were here that were being so closely controlled and aesthetically pleasing rather than allowed to flourish as they were intended. It felt like a scraping through her mind. She was surprised at how much of being Elven had rubbed off on her in just sixteen years. 

“Exquisite, isn’t it? The widest collection of fragrance-producing plants in the Gate, some from as far as Cormyr.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Haldraithan. It is, indeed, something. I am-”

“I know who you are, Ailionora Lathanyll.” The tone the man took was cold, as cold as his eyes were. “I make it my business to always be aware of who will be staying in my home, after all.” His tone had shifted to being warmer, but it didn’t make her feel less worried. 

“I am sure, however, that you must still have questions, my Lord.” She’d ventured, trying to warm him up a little.

He’d gestured at a chair across the table from him. One of the footmen ran over and pulled it out for her, making her notice that there were four of them hidden around the edges of the room. She’d sat down carefully, smoothing out her skirts and allowing her to be pushed back in. 

“First, we eat a little.” He’d said, breaking out into a small smile. The first she had seen. 

The food was simple but elegant. A platter of unusual tiny sandwiches. Quinces carved into rose shapes. Tiny tarts that tasted rather like sweet potato pie. And seemingly endless cups of hot ginger tea. They’d both eaten their fill, when finally Haldraithan spoke. 

“Now, it is time for questions.” He sat back a bit from the table, looking at her speculatively. “Why Baldur’s Gate? Your letter stated your intentions were to travel to cities and learn about the ways of the people there. You certainly could have visited many cities. Why Baldur’s Gate?”

She smiled. “It’s currently one of the most powerful cities in Faerun, despite being smaller in population than several others, most notably Waterdeep. It has a long history, a great diversity in population, and has been the center of several power grabs by gods. It was at the top of my list. I only went to Waterdeep first because of the practicality of the journey from Evereska.”

“Hmmm.” He seemed to consider her answer for a moment. “And how long do you intend to stay?”

She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to give the man some kind of answer. “At least a year. Perhaps several. There is much here to learn, I would not want to miss having taken my time.”

“You are aware that the rules of this place are not those of our people? As an unmarried young woman, you will be expected to behave with a restraint not required of you in Evereska. It will affect my standing if you do not.” She heard the tiniest bit of a warning in it. “I will not be so crass as a human noble, forbidding you to take a paramour, but you must keep it secret. No public affections or other nonsense. When you go out, you must not be alone if you are leaving the upper city. Take a servant of our house, or a respected friend, once you make those. You should never be alone with a man.”

She rolled her eyes. “The Baldurians are aware that women can take women as lovers, or are they truly that repressed?”

“They are both far more and less repressed than any group you’ve ever met. Keep that in mind. It’s perfectly normal here for an unmarried noblewoman to be nearly naked at a masquerade, but scandalous for her to be seen fully dressed, talking to a man at a tavern.”

“Well, I shall keep that in mind, cousin.” He rolled his eyes at that. “I’d like to get out and see the festival today. I had planned to stop at The Helm and Cloak and hire one of the Unicorn Knights to accompany me.”

“You have good instincts. Do you have coin?” The question felt like it was a test of some kind.

“Enough until the holiday ends. I will set up my accounts after that when the bank reopens.”

His eyebrow went up briefly at that. “You are welcome to put things on the House account.” 

“I’d rather have a private account, thank you. It’s easier to manage my expenses that way and assure myself that I am living within my means.”

“It’s a bit unusual, but I can understand your desire for independence. After all, we hardly know each other yet. I do hope you will be a regular at breakfast. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone to share the house with.”

They’d exchanged some pleasantries and she left, getting a thick cloak to take with her. She walked to the Helm and Cloak, but one of the footmen came with her. She could hardly complain about it, but that gave her a twinge of its own. A memory of times that the Pastor had seemed to do her favors, things she couldn’t complain about, but would always end up putting her in positions where they’d be in private, alone. Perhaps she was just too jumpy, but trusting her gut had been the only thing that had kept her alive for a long time. She would keep her walls up around Haldraithen for now.

In the taproom, she’d seen a whole section that was situated under a beautiful tapestry of a unicorn. A group of individuals, mostly human, sat at tables doing various activities, all wearing polished breastplates bearing an engraving of their Order’s namesake. The Order of the Unicorn had started as a lark, as she’d read it. A joke amongst the last born of the great families to give noble cover to their status of not inheriting much. It had morphed over time into a respectable group of knights who mostly were the last-born sons of noble houses, doomed to inherit little they turned to the Order to procure work that would not taint their reputation, but would allow them to live a more comfortable life. 

She’d walked over to the group, sitting down next to the only woman, a tall, broad-shouldered human with red hair and sparkling blue eyes. “Happy Harvestide, good knight.” 

“Happy Harvestide, good Lady. How can the Order assist you?”

“I am Lady Ailionora of House Nightstar, and I would like to hire a personal companion for visiting the lower city. Ideally, if we both find it pleasant, it would be an ongoing role of companion, guide to the city, and protector if the need should arise.”

The woman beamed. “That is exactly the kind of work that we like to provide. We have several knights who are available right now.”

“Are you possibly one of them?” Nora inquired.

“Me? Why me?” The woman seemed confused. 

“I figure that a woman as a hired companion will also serve to provide me a cover for certain questions of propriety. A certified chaperone, if you will. Also, I have a good feeling about you.” She gave the woman a warm smile.

The woman lit up with excitement. “I’d love to! I’m Miriam, by the way. Of House Portyr. I don’t go by Lady though, I’ve taken a vow of chastity and my father was none too happy about it. But I certainly wasn’t going to be traded for a lumber contract or a better slip at the dock for my family’s imports.”

“I am fortunate, in that, to be an Elf. Marriage as a bargaining chip is a disgusting practice.”

“But couldn’t the Lord of your house contract a betrothal on your behalf?”

“Ah, but the Lord of House Nightstar here is a Lord of Baldur’s Gate, not the Lord of House Nighstar. So no. He doesn’t have the authority, not even under Baldurian law. Under Elvish law, the idea is anathema. Marriage among our people is a sacred rite that entangles souls together magically. It is not something one does for mundane reasons.”

“Huh.” She seemed to chew on that. “Must be nice to be an Elven woman.”

“Eh. There are some serious downsides. Did you know we carry our babies for two whole years?” Nora's face wrinkled at the thought.

Miriam and Nora were already friends before they’d gotten to Bloomridge Park. Nora had asked her companion to show her one of the holiday celebrations, so she’d taken her to what was an outdoor fair, complete with acrobats, a play, bardic performances, something akin to funnel cakes, apple bobbing, a costume contest for kids, and hot cider. It all felt nostalgic to her, so much of it could have been lifted straight into Keystone and no one there would have realized it was from another realm. 

She’d indulged in a few of the treats, mainly several cups of the steaming hot cider to take the edge off of the cold that was seeping into her. Tomorrow, she’d wear her traveling clothes for being out and about, rather than a dress. She also spent a few coppers to vote in the costume contest, as it was raising money to fund a soup kitchen here in the outer city, which she had learned was a desperately poor area.

When Miriam had dropped her off at the gate of her house, she’d asked the woman if she’d like to meet up with her again midmorning tomorrow and she agreed. She’d gone up to her room, exhausted. Sara was waiting for her and immediately began drawing a bath. It was still deeply troubling to Nora to be waited on like this. It was one thing with tasks that required help, getting into court dress or such, that made sense. But Nora was capable of getting a bath together all on her own. She certainly could wash her clothes. And the fact that Sara had insisted on washing her hair felt downright ridiculous.

The last thing she thought about, curled up in the insanely comfy bed, was that she needed to be careful and maintain her independence. Not only would it make her too soft to get used to it, it wasn’t right that it existed. She couldn’t indulge in this lifestyle and be righteously angry about it.

She had gotten up, swept the ashes out of her fireplace into the bucket, washed her hands, made her bed, and was fully washed and dressed before Sara could get there. The made looked around, clicking her tongue but said nothing. She’d braided Nora’s hair. She’d started to set up a new fire, but Nora stopped her, telling her to set up the wood but to leave it until she returned later. No need to burn it for an empty room. 

Breakfast with the Lord had been a similarly uncomfortable affair to luncheon yesterday. He was patronizing her but cleverly, carefully to make it hard for her to complain. She bit her tongue and played along. She trusted him less every time they spoke. 

Miriam had come and she’d invited her inside to the drawing room. They agreed on wages and she’d simply hired her on for a month. It was easier than having to discuss each day. She’d changed into her traveling clothes quickly, having put on a dress for breakfast knowing otherwise there would have been an issue, and came ready to venture into more of the city.

It being the second day of Harvestide, most things were still shut down. But Nora decided it would be a good day to send a message to her father. She knew he could check on her whenever, but she’d also learned while living with him that he often got distracted. Once he’d forgotten to send for her for a month because he’d gotten caught up in painting a particularly beautiful sunrise. So, probably best to send him a message.

She’d phrased it to Miriam as wishing to make a prayer. Miriam had beamed, telling her that while the Seldarine had no temple in the Gate, there was a shrine to Corellon in the Stormshore Tabernacle. They’d headed there on foot, with Miriam pointing out and explaining landmarks along the way. From the best store for boots to the graveyard, to where the city’s main newspaper, The Baldurian Gazette, was printed. She’d not only taken the time at the Tabernacle to pray and send a message to her dad but also used her sending stone to let Onvyr know she had arrived and all was well so far. He’d responded to tell her he had missed her. She smiled at the thought. She wasn’t sure she’d ever known she’d been missed before.

She came back out to Miriam, who was firmly explaining to a young boy the stupidity of trying to pick the pockets of an armored woman. Nora greeted them both warmly and gave the boy a copper. 

“It will encourage him, you know.” Miriam warned her.

“Yes, but it's cold and getting colder. A young boy pickpocketing isn’t out for a lark. And a copper will get him a loaf of bread.” Ailionora had said. “I know what it's like to be desperate, cold, and hungry when you are a child.” She’d had to take a breath to dispel the memory of holding her Momma in their tent, certain they would freeze to death. 

It was already late afternoon, so Miriam proposed they grab dinner in what was the landmark place to do so, that wasn’t the dangerous dive bar inside a ship lifted onto the harbor, the Elfsong Tavern. It had taken them about another half an hour to reach, the holiday meaning it was already packed despite the slightly early hour. 

There was a long wait for a table, so they’d taken a standing position at the bar. Nora drank hot cider with a splash of brandy, while Miriam favored an apple-flavored ale. They’d people-watched while Miriam gave Nora tips. Things like the way to tell a person trying to look wealthy versus who actually was. How to spot people from different professions. All those little insider tips that take time to learn. 

It was well past sunset when a booth in the corner opened up and a barmaid ushered the two women over to it, fresh drinks in hand as well as a basket of hot rolls. They’d placed their order for the dinner special, a sort of akin to a Thanksgiving meal complete with a pumpkin pie. While they were waiting, Miriam stepped away to visit the bathroom, after Nora assured her she was quite capable of defending herself. 

She’d seen the decent-looking human man who slid into Miriam’s vacated seat across the room, failing out with multiple women. He was wearing a rather foppish outfit with a ruffled collar that had gone out of fashion, according to Miriam who had pointed it out, almost a decade ago. Yet the man appeared to be no more than twenty-five. 

“It is far too happy a night for me to leave such a rare beauty by herself in a dark corner.” His words seemed honeyed but his voice was far too harsh for the delivery. When she looked up, she also noticed he was rather pale, too pale for his dark blonde hair and brown eyes. Something about him made her feel cold, even though the taproom was almost overheated.

“Not alone, Saer. My companion will return shortly. Best of luck to you in your endeavors.” She waved him off, hating this part of being in public and being a woman. 

“There are ne’er-do-wells out in force tonight. I could not in good conscience leave you all alone to their nefarious plans. I will stay and grace you with my fine company until your companion returns.”

She rolled her eyes. If the asshole didn’t leave, Miriam would fix that when she got back. “Fine.” She paid him only enough attention to keep an eye on where he was.

“Come now, it’s a holiday! Where is your Harvestide spirit? Surely, a pretty lady should be graced by a pretty smile, rather than a frown?”

She was tired before he’d told her to smile. “So, what did you say your name was?”

He smiled back, his face lighting up in a way that made her feel a bit sick. “Ah, forgive my rude manners. My name is Petras. And who, may I ask, do I have the delight of meeting this fine eve?”

“I’m Ailionora.” She decided to leave off her affiliations. She had no desire to impress this creep. 

“Ailionora. What a beautiful name. A promise.” He mused.

Her eyes burrowed into him. “You know my language?” Not many reasons for a human to bother learning Elvish. He wasn’t a wizard and certainly wasn’t a historian or artist, so she was certain it had to be more nefarious.

He coughed, acting almost embarrassed. “I’m a great lover of poetry, and some of the finest is Elven. But of course, to read it truly, one must learn the tongue.”

She relaxed. Of course, this foppish man learned Elvish for the poetry. “Well, I guess I should applaud your efforts. It is not an easy language.” She knew that, it had taken her almost two years to be able to have even halting conversations, almost five to seem fluent. And she’d had nothing but time and the best possible tutors.

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes for a moment. “The sound of praise for me, coming from your sweet lips, is the most beautiful poetry of all. Only to be topped by the sound of my name, whispered the same.”

She would have responded to the cheesy lines he was using, except something about his eyes bothered her. They were brown. Brown eyes are common, she’d seen thousands, possibly more. But these weren’t brown like the others. See brown eyes always had something more, flecks of amber, a honey warmth, the sparkle of mossy green, a deep dark inky quality, or the melted chocolate heat that Gale’s had. Petra’s eyes were just… brown. For some reason, that fact just felt wrong. Like so many other little things about him. Her gut was screaming at her that something was very, very wrong with this man. 

She sat there just thinking for too long, but luckily Miriam returned. “My Lady, is this man here with your invitation?” The massive woman shifted back her cloak to expose the unicorn head engraved on her shining breastplate. 

Petras gulped loud enough for Nora to hear it. “My apologies, my Lady. I had no idea of who I was speaking with.” She could tell he was truly bothered, but that didn’t make sense in the circumstances. Why would he feel terrified of the Order of the Unicorn? They were mostly harmless.

“Do not trouble yourself, these titles are more of a human convention than anything. But I did wish to be alone with my companion, as I mentioned.” She said firmly, still looking at his strangely boring eyes.

“Oh. Of course. Well, I suppose I should be on my way.” He practically leapt from the table, but as he did, she caught something. A flash of bright, glowing red around the edge of his flat brown irises. Barely there long enough to be certain she saw it. She was mostly glad the man was gone and pushed the weirdness away to be bothered about another day. She had enough right now. 

“I leave for a moment and the wolves descend. You know, when I was younger, I was always jealous of the pretty girls like you. Then I got to see how it played out and it’s not much of a gift, is it?”

“I’ve never felt particularly like one of the pretty ones. Elves are supposed to be all willowy and androgynous and well…” She gestured at the ridiculousness of her bust. “I suppose it’s more attractive to humans than I am used to. He was spouting the most unbelievably terrible lines I’ve ever heard. Like he’d rifled through the pockets of a bunch of bad romance novelists.” She snorted.

“I’ve seen him a couple of times over the years here and there in the city. That man is a menace. He gets rejected constantly but never stops trying.”

“And yet does not change his approach? Either a fool or committed to a bit.” She mused again, sipping her cider, trying not to burn her tongue.

The Elfsong was a fun diversion, but after they ate, Miriam walked her back home. The pattern repeated. She’d decided to spend the next day in, a rest day before the city reopened and her work began in a flurry. She needed to visit the Counting House and set up accounts, start trying to find this Jaheira person, find a dressmaker so she was prepared for events, and visit High Hall to register her seal. 

Sara was once again waiting for her. The fireplace was lit, and a bath had been run. She dismissed the maid. It was late and she hated keeping the woman awake unnecessarily. Right before she fell into her trance, she’d gotten a sending from Lord Onvyr.  He had decided he would head to the Gate, having left that very evening. He would travel to the Way Inn, about a month and a half from Waterdeep, and spend the steep price to travel by portal from there to the Gate. 

She’d skipped breakfast with the Lord on her rest day. Deciding to stay in her cozy bed and practice harp all morning. Sara told her the Lord was inquiring but she simply sent a message that she was tired but would be fine after a quiet day of rest. She’d spent some of the day journaling, and then she tried to write a note to this Jaheira woman she was supposed to work with. 

When she’d asked Miriam if she’d ever heard of a person named Jaheira, the woman had looked at her like she was an idiot. It turned out that the half-elf was a legendary adventurer who’d saved the city. Even convinced a Bhaalspawn to defy the God of Murder and turn good. She had to credit her father, it did indeed sound like she’d be the sort to be helpful in her mission. Apparently, she was well known, the head of an organization called the Harpers, a sort of unofficial band of mercenaries for the greater good, and she could get a message to her simply with her name.

She’d written several drafts, all of which were terrible. Finally, she went with simple, she’d write nothing, and send Miriam to deliver the message in person. She’d fed the draft pages into the fire. She didn’t trust Haldraithan yet. Her gut was giving her a sea of red flags when it came to him, so she was leaving nothing to chance. She had nothing unpacked in the room other than toiletries and some of her clothes, keeping her things in the bag of holding she kept on her at all times. No, she couldn’t let her guard down for a second here, of that she was certain. 

She spent the rest of the evening in a bit of vanity, manicuring and polishing her nails a very pale cool pink color. She’d quite admired how’d they’d looked after the ball in Waterdeep, but that was much too egregiously opulent. But the flush of pink made her ridiculously pale skin look alive rather than ghostly. Enough that she seriously began considering picking up some basic cosmetics. Perhaps a lip stain to put the same color on her face. She shook her head. She never thought she’d be a woman who wore makeup.

Breakfast with the Lord went smoothly. They spoke only a few words, as there was a council meeting he needed to attend. She’d needed to head to High Hall as well, so they shared a carriage on the way there. She stopped at the hall of records to register her name as part of House Nightstar and register that she had a seal of the House. That would let her start using the Counting House within a few days. 

She met with Miriam back at the Manor midmorning, the bright red hair announcing her long before she could see her face. She wanted to get on with getting her message delivered, but she didn’t want to be overheard by anyone. So, she asked her to take her to see the graveyard. Someone else might have questioned it, but Miriam just asked which one, and began to rattle off the different graveyards and what they contained. She picked one in the lower city that Miriam mentioned was old, hopefully it would be quiet and empty.

She’d gotten her wish. She wandered through, pretending to look at stones, but was slowly heading towards a bench she spotted under an ancient oak tree near the back, a blank brick building without windows behind it. She sat down, inviting Miriam to join her. 

“So, I haven’t wanted to pry, Ailionora, but why a graveyard?”

“I needed to talk to you, but make sure no one was listening. I don’t trust my Lord. He’s… he makes my gut scream danger. I learned a long time ago to listen to things like that. So I’m telling him nothing about why I’m really in Baldur’s Gate. He thinks I’m on some journey of self-discovery, a self-indulgent sort of thing many young Elves participate in.”

“And you’re not, are you.” Miriam surmised.

“Clever. I had a prophetic dream. Elves rarely dream, except when Sehanine, our Goddess, visits us. Those dreams always reveal important truths. Mine is that there is an Elven man held captive in slavery in this city that I must rescue.”

Miriam blinked at her, taking her in a second. “You aren’t joking. You mean to do this?”

“Yes. Would you leave a man in slavery? If you knew he was being sadistically tortured practically every day?”

“Well, no, but…”

“But what? I’m supposed to be a pampered noblewoman? I’m supposed to be silly, read romance novels, and fuss about my clothes?” Nora scoffed. “I don’t need to swear an oath to someone to do the right thing. I’m not opposed to many of the wrong things, mind, laws are mostly just the ways that the rich dominate and oppress the poor, sometimes with a side of racism thrown in, but some things are moral rights and wrongs. Slavery is wrong. So I’m going to try.”

“Well, I was going to say you don’t have much to go on. I think it’s amazing that you want to help.”

“I have one name. I didn’t know anything until I came here, but you were helpful.”

“So, that's why you were asking about Jaheira? Well, this Sehanine sure knows what she was talking about in your dreams.”

“I need you to get a message to her. Tell her that I’ve been sent to hunt a great evil in the city, and ask her to meet me in the Elfsong in two days. Rent a room for us to meet in. I’ll give you the coin.”

Miriam suddenly stood up and pulled out her sword. She knelt in front of Nora, her hands crossing over the pommel of the weapon whose tip was sinking into the soft ground. “I vow to you that I will be by your side until your mission is complete.” 

Usually, this was the sort of thing that made Nora giggle at the ridiculousness of it all. Except this time, a flash of golden light washed over the both of them, and a mote of light floated in the air between them, lingering long enough to announce,

Your oath is accepted. Rise, Paladin of Ailionora Lathanyll.

Nora knew exactly whose voice they had just heard, but now, she had to tell this woman who had just sworn a magically binding oath to her, what she had left out of her little story. Her stomach flipped.

“Ailionora?” Miriam had risen back up, shaking a bit. “Who was that? How can I be your paladin?”

“Ah.” Ailionora turned and looked at her friend. “You might want to sit for this.”

The reveal went better than she expected. Luckily, Miriam had always wanted to be a Paladin. Had tried Lathander and Ilmater, but both had turned her down because she didn’t believe in their creed. 

“I haven’t a clue what my creed would even be.” She’d told the red-haired woman. “I guess oppression is bad and we should not do that? I don’t know. I’ve never been much of one for moral arguments.”

Miriam looked at her oddly. “Oppression is bad and we should not do that. I like it. Oppression is bad.”

Miriam had walked Nora back home without much further discussion. A message would be delivered after that. She had no reason not to trust her new Paladin. She wondered if any of her magical talents would be shared with the woman. Or did she need to do that sharing? How? She hadn’t even known she could have paladin oaths sworn to her. How does one become more or less divine? She had so many questions. And she knew at least one person who probably had some of the answers. Even if she had been hoping to avoid him for a while. Possibly forever. 

Chapter Text

Ailionora busied herself with a million little tasks that came to building a life as a Lady in Baldur’s Gate. Withdrawing her annual allotment from the Nightstar account and setting up her accounts at the Counting House. Hiring a lawyer because Baldurian law was dreadfully misogynistic and damned if she was going to be asking some strange man for permission to do, well, anything, so she had to get paperwork filed by the head of her house noting her as an ‘independent heiress’ rather than a ward. That one gave her flashbacks of screaming at her ratty copy of Pride and Prejudice she’d had to read for English sophomore year. 

But there were fun parts, too. The entire concept of getting clothes custom-made by an expert was such a thrill. She’d gone from buying whatever vaguely worked well enough from Goodwill on Earth to Arvendor where clothes just appeared and then she’d taken them with her to Evereska. Even in Waterdeep, she’d not been the one to choose anything. 

Baldurian clothes reminded her of 18th-century English clothes. She realized she’d be wearing stays all the time here outside of her bedroom. Not even their dressing gowns could be worn without support. A significant part of her expenses were in clothes. She’d gotten a wardrobe to cover the winter, relying heavily on the advice of the atelier for what pieces she’d need. She fully planned to still utilize her Elvish clothes as well, though, although mostly to wear at home or when around the lower city. 

She had been shocked at how far her funds were going. Nightstar, it turned out, must be either an exceptionally wealthy house, or there were very few people entitled to its funds. She still resolved to treat them with care, though. She had no idea what her mission might entail.

Besides the additional acquisition of things like personal care items, jewelry, clothes, and shoes, she’d also acquired a lovely pocket watch. Events were scheduled on the hour in the Gate, and without a pocket watch, it was quite difficult to be punctual. That had been the single most expensive purchase she had made so far, visiting a Gondian clockmaker’s shop that Miriam recommended. She had gotten a highly decorative piece, so that had added to the cost. 

It had been a busy tenday, indeed. Her daily breakfasts with Lord Haldraithen were still superficially pleasant, but the man continued to grate on her wrong. She was excited for when Onvyr arrived, as then there would be someone she trusted in the house, other than Theodore and Sara. She got along with all of the staff well, but those two in particular went out of their way to be helpful to her, and she tried to show them extra appreciation in return. One of the things that her and Lord H had openly disagreed about, as he felt it was inappropriate that she had encouraged the two of them, when no outsiders were present, to use her name rather than title.

But, it was a sunny but cold day when she and Miriam were due to take a visit to the Stormcloak Tabernacle and have lunch at the Elfsong when her paladin broke the news she had been waiting for. 

“Jaheira will meet you at the Elfsong today. She’s still not sold on anything, but I think she is sick of me irritating her.”

She suddenly hugged Miriam. “Thank you! I can’t believe you did it.”

Miriam blushed, disengaging her arms. “I did swear an oath, didn’t I? I won’t let you down.”

Their visit to the Tabernacle was short. She was glad that she wore her Elven travelling clothes, both because they kept her warm, and because she didn’t want this Jaheira to see her as a silly noblewoman. She’d stopped to send a message to Corellon. It had been to ask for help, but she ended up updating him that she was finally getting a meeting with Jaheira. He hadn’t asked her to do this, but giving the updates made her feel like things were progressing. That and she had started a journal specifically for this investigation. Like her personal diary, she kept it in English, for privacy.

The Elfsong was far less busy than it had been during the holiday when she last visited. There were plenty of open tables. They headed straight up to see Jaheira, who was in a small room on the second floor. Miriam knocked on the door, and it was opened by a young, human woman, not the middle-aged Elf she had expected to see. 

The woman, who was visibly armed with a sword, invited them in with stony eyes. Inside, a stern-faced half-elven woman with greying hair and well-muscled arms sat at a small table, with two empty glasses in front of her. 

“Come and have a drink with me, Lady Nightstar. Then, you can tell me this tale.” Her voice was dry and clipped. It screamed no nonsense would be tolerated.

She nodded at Miriam, who had lifted an eyebrow, and sat down opposite Jaheira. Miriam and the other woman stood in opposite corners, hovering over their respective charges. Jaheira pulled out a bottle of wine and removed the cork deftly with a dagger, pouring a small amount into each cup. She sat it down and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. 

“Klauthgrass extract. It is a truth serum, of sorts. You won’t be compelled to speak, but you will be unable to tell a deliberate falsehood. I will put it in both of our drinks. A show of trust on both of our parts.”

“Lady Ai-”

Nora held up a hand. “Miriam, trust must be extended to be earned. I am asking much of the First Harper. I accept your offer of trust, Jaheira.”

Jaheira gave her an appraising look. “You are wise for one so young and new to the outside world.” She poured a few drops from the vial into each cup, then corked it and put it back in her pocket. Picking up her glass, she raised it in a toast. “Alvia!” ~ Good fortune/cheers

Nora returned the gesture and drank several swallows, after which Jaheira did the same.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Jaheira.” Nora spoke in Elvish. “Perhaps we can speak in true tongue to keep this conversation for our ears only? My companion does not speak it.”

“Agreed. So what is of such grand importance that you believe it requires my attention?”

Nora paused, deciding internally if she should just jump two feet first into this pool, or ease in slowly. Jaheira did not seem like a woman who liked taking her time with things. “Well, in for a penny, out for a pound,” she thought to herself.

“I am a member of House Nightstar in name only, which only the head of House Nightstar, and the Cormiir of Everska are aware. My father, Corellon Larethion, has sent me on a mission, to act in his stead here in Baldur’s Gate. He has told me that he was made aware, via a prayer, of an Elf being held as a slave by an evil man who is praying on others, especially Elves, in this city. The only direction I received from him was that I should find you and request your assistance.”

“You are a member of the Seldarine?” Jaheira’s left eyebrow shot up to her hairline.

“No. My mother was Eladrin from another realm. I am no Goddess.”

“An aasimar then, but a potential demi-god. I’d disbelieve it if you hadn’t just drunk Klauthgrass. Time will tell I suppose, if you've managed to overpower it.”

“How much do you trust your associate?”

“With my life on several occasions.”

“Then I will prove it, as best as I can.” Nora scooched back from the table, shedding her cloak so more of her skin could be seen. She closed her eyes, and slowly let go of her light. A soft, golden glow began to suffuse out of her skin, growing brighter until it lit up the room as bright as the outside. “An inheritance from my father.” She sadly brought the light back down under control, as always, hating the way it felt to put it away.

Jaheira let a long breath out. “Well, perhaps there is something to your tale.” The woman tapped the table. “There are many evils in this city. But I’m supposing He was not speaking of the mundane power-hungry, back-stabbing kinds. We’ve had several Bhaalspawn arise in my lifetime, but they are not keen on keeping slaves, and they have no special taste for Elvish blood. There’s a vampire lord here, but I don’t know who they are. We’ve only ever found two of their spawn, neither of whom could talk about it, compulsion being what it is. But the spawn were tieflings. I’m afraid I don’t know this evil you are looking for, but I am keen to find it.”

“I know one more thing. I had to become a member of a noble house. That wasn’t my doing, He orchestrated it with the Corrmiir.”

Jaheira’s eyebrow was back up. “So, it’s either a member of the upper class or-”

“Something that the nobility already knows about, at least some of them.” Nora finished her thought. “We should have tea, on the regular. Perhaps every other tenday? At your residence.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea. Fourthdays. At three in the afternoon.”

Nora stood, giving Jaheira a small bow, and thanking her for her time.

Days went by, mostly filled with meeting the upper crust of the Gate. Invitations had come in a few at a time, mostly from well-respected merchants probably hoping for coin from a young Elven lady with deep pockets, but she accepted them, letting Theodore advise her on how to proceed. He’d only suggested she turn down one, a particularly grasping social climber whom he warned had been a terrible dinner guest in the past. 

The little events weren’t a complete waste of time, although they felt like it in the moment because she was establishing herself in the social milieu. Whatever it was she needed to know in this role, it would take patience to reveal itself. So she drank endless cups of tea and ate tiny sandwiches and complemented shoes and plates and art. She would not make someone suffer because she itched at the entire concept of an aristocracy.

She had Miriam who took her out at least every other day, if for no other reason than to take a walk, visit the bakery, take in a performance at the symphony hall, or enjoy the art in the Hall of Wonders. If she had to breathe in the rarified air of the upper city, she would at least enjoy the good parts.

It was almost time for her next meeting with Jaheira when she decided to spend a day with Miriam visiting the bookshops of the Gate. Nora desperately wanted to know more about what it meant to be the child of a God. Why did her magic work the way it did, what other effects might it have, how had she been able to take a Paladin’s oath? So many questions plagued her, and sadly, Faerun didn’t seem to have the concept of a public library. 

While she and Miriam had a delightful day, she picked up several lovely poetry books to read, and they accidentally found a used book store that was almost entirely erotic novels, she didn’t find anything in regards to being a child of divinity. Partially, this is because Ailionora steadfastly refused to ask for help, not wanting anyone to know what she was looking for. So, while she enjoyed herself, she was back at square one on this task, which was asking Gale for help.

Gale, who had not reached out to her a single time in the month they had been in the city.

Breakfast with Haldraithen on the thirtieth of Uktar had been going as normal. They both said hello, slowly picked over their fruit and bread, and Theodore brought in two copies of the Baldur’s Gazette, which they each read silently. Nora was about to set down her paper and excuse herself when Haldraithen spoke up. 

“Ailionora, I was wondering, if perhaps you would like to attend an event with me? I had planned to attend with a companion, but we had a falling out of sorts before you arrived, and I do not foresee at this point that we shall mend our rift in time.”

She was intrigued. “When is the event?”

“Ah. Well, it is on the Feast of the Moon.” He held his face smoothly, but his voice slightly cracked.

“Tomorrow. I suppose that indeed your rift is unlikely to mend in time. I hope this event doesn't require a specific kind of dress I would have needed to prepare ahead of time.”

“It is not. You do have at least one formal Baldurian gown? It is the induction ceremony for new Lords who are joining the advisory council in the new year.”

She let out a long breath. “I will verify with Theodore and Sara that what I have is appropriate. I have one Baldurian formal dress, as of current. Assuming I have proper attire, I would be happy to attend with you. I will have Theodore refresh me on proper etiquette.”

Her day had to be entirely rescheduled, an event of this magnitude could not be overstated for her. It would be her first chance to meet many of the Lords and Ladies of the Gate. She asked Theodore to join her in her room with Sara.

“Ailionora, I am always happy to assist, but what is this urgent matter which requires my specific guidance?” Theodore spoke, a little nervous to be in her bedroom, even though Sara was there.

“Dearest Theodore, the Lord has asked me to attend the Council’s induction ceremony as his guest. It sounds as though his planned guest has elected not to join.”

Theodore’s face blanched. “That’s tomorrow.” Sara’s blanched in response.

“So first, Sara, can you fetch my three nicest gowns? And Theodore, be honest, can I wear any of these respectably?”

With just an hour to spare, Ailionora Lathanyll, Lady of House Nightstar, was ready for what was to be her debut in Baldurian society. Her Baldurian-style formal dress, a deep twilight brocade frock that dripped black silk lace along the low, square neckline and from the fitted half-sleeves, with silver-thread embroidered constellations on the bodice and a full skirt, was deemed more than acceptable by her trusted servants. For her hair, Sara decided she should wear it in a pile of soft curls held up by what felt like a million hairpins, with a dozen or so celestial-themed jewels that had been pinned in and connected with fine silver chains. She opted for only a small bit of her cool pink lip stain and the polish on her nails. 

Haldraithen swept through her open door as Sara was doing her final checks. He looked her up and down appreciably. 

“Baldurian clothing suits you well, cousin. But, a Lady should not go to such an affair without jewels. Theodore warned me of your plight, so I brought one of the House’s pieces for you to borrow this evening.”

He theatrically brought a small wooden box out from behind his back and opened it. Inside, nestled on soft pink silk satin, was a brilliant diamond necklace. He gestured to her vanity table for her to sit, and he clasped it around her neck himself. It lay perfectly with the gown's neckline. 

“Thank you, cousin. These are beautiful.” 

The ceremony took place at High Hall, and like most ceremonial things, it was filled with archaic bits no one understood, way too many people talking for far too long, and music no one liked. The costumes were interesting, though.

They sat and watched it all unfold on uncomfortable granite benches. She was thankful for the corset she wore for once, as it provided needed back support for the two-hour event. When it was over, she had to fight the urge to groan with relief when they stood up. Haldraithan gave her a funny look, making her think perhaps she wasn’t as good at masking as she had thought. 

The soiree afterward was a quieter party than she would have expected. She accepted a glass of sweet white wine from a tray, and followed her cousin from Lord to Lord, making a circuit unknown to her. Most of the men barely glanced a look at her, leaving her to awkwardly stand as arm candy for the few minutes they spoke. A few introduced themselves, making a moment or two of small talk. 

She reminded herself to have patience. That it would take time. That this was all part of the greater good. She was losing her ability to stay calm when an older human man, white-haired with a beard and extravagant clothing walked over to them. 

“Grand Duke Portyr, an honor.” Haldraithan gave a short bow, Ailionora followed with a small curtsy. 

“Lord Haldraithan, you must introduce this jewel that graces our presence tonight.” Portyr was smiling at her. She gave a small smile back. 

“Your Grace, this is my cousin, Lady Ailionora Lathanyll of House Nightstar.”

Portyr took her hand, brushing her knuckles lightly with a kiss. “Charmed, Lady Ailionora. By chance, do you happen to play lanceboard?”

Nora smiled. “I do, your Grace. I was taught by a wizard on my trip here from Waterdeep.”

“I have been hoping for someone to challenge me to lanceboard all evening, but all these men wish to speak about is power and commerce. Perhaps you are just the antidote to all of that I have been looking for.” 

Nora found herself being led by the Grand Duke through the soiree, past tables where Lords and Ladies played cards for the high stakes, others where they nibbled on exquisite delicacies, and finally, to a quiet conservatory, where a woman played the harp sweetly in one corner, two older women embroidered and chatted, and now, she was playing the High Duke of Baldur’s Gate at lanceboard. 

“So, Ailionora Lathanyll, is that an Elven name? I’m afraid I never picked up your people’s language.” He moved his queen’s pawn forward two spaces. 

She smiled and moved her king’s pawn forward two spaces. “Yes. It means a Prayer for Sunlight. It’s a complicated language, I’ve heard, to learn.”

He tilted his head. She had set him up to take her pawn. It was a trap she had set. “A Prayer for Sunlight, how poetic. It suits you.” He puffed out his chest in confidence, taking her pawn. “First piece lost. Will it be a sign of things to come?”

“Perhaps? Like I said, I did just start playing about two months ago.” She pretended to hesitate, then moved her Queen’s pawn forward one space. Setting up the same pawn to take her Queen’s pawn. “And I’ve only ever played one person in all of Faerun.” 

He jumped on the trap faster this time, taking the bait. “Well, it does seem to be going rather splendidly to me. Perhaps you can share why you’ve come to Baldur’s Gate.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “I wanted to experience what the world outside of Evereska had to offer. I plan to sample my way through the cities of Faerun, but the Gate was rumored to have every kind of artistic indulgence known on this plane. So it seemed like a good place to start.” He was fully intent on her bustline and not the board, she noticed. “Oh! I can do this!” She took his pawn using her king’s cleric.

He wasn’t sad, he was delighted, clapping for her. “What a good catch! Perhaps there is a lanceboard player in that beautiful mind of yours after all. Now, what shall I do?” He pursed his lips for a bit. “I think I shall deploy my cyric in defense.” He placed his king’s cyric in front of his king’s cleric.

She paused, twisting a single falling curl with a finger and biting her lip. She sighed. “I think I need to defend against your cyric, then, your Grace.” She moved her king’s cyric pawn forward two.

“Your necklace is exquisite. I believe I’ve seen that piece before, though. A shame if someone bought you used jewels. On such a rare beauty, only one of a kind pieces should sit.” He stared into her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should keep playing along or crashing this. Certainly being wooed by the Grand Duke would garner interest and open doors. “I deploy my king’s castle pawn forward one.”

“Your Grace, you flatter me. This is a piece of the Nightstar house jewels. You’ve probably seen another house member wear it before, that’s all.” She looked at the board intently, already knowing what she’d find. She grabbed her king’s cleric and moved it diagonally until it stood in front of her queen’s cyric. “I believe, your Grace, you will find the game is ended.”

He sat up, staring at the board intently for several moments. He looked up, slightly shocked. “Well, so it has. Beauty and brains, quite the combination.”

“Ah, there you are, Archduke.” She heard her cousin come into the room. “I’d like to borrow my cousin again if you wouldn’t mind. There are so many good people I’d like to introduce her to, you see.”

“Of course, Haldraithan. Can you believe this feast for the eyes defeated me at Lanceboard? Rather soundly, may I add.”

Haldraithan looked at her quizzically. “She’s far more committed to her harp than to scholarly or military pursuits, so I must say it comes as a shock.”

“Her harp? Lady Ailionora, you must come and perform me, sometime.” Nora panicked at that thought. She loved music but performance was not her art form. She looked at Haldraithan, hoping for an out.

“My Grace, the lady is clearly in shock at the honor you offer her. We will make it happen soon. A private performance.”

“Well, then my thanks and my leave are granted together.”

Haldraithan grabbed her hand, leading her back through rooms until they were in an offshoot room with a large fountain in the center and potted flowers around the edges. There was a woman here, a blonde, human woman, of slender build with an intricate crown of braids on her head. “Duke Stelmane.” He half bowed, and Nora curtseyed soon after. 

“I’d heard House Nightstar had a new member in the Gate.”

“I am Lady Ailionora Lathanyll, your Grace, of House Nightstar. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

She was looking directly at the duke when she saw it, and she was positive she saw a slight flash of purple light swirl around the Duke’s irises. “So how are you and Lord Haldraithan related?”

“We are distant cousins, your Grace.” Haldraithan answered smoothly. “She grew up in Evereska, but wanted to see the human world.”

“Well, it was lovely to meet you, Lady Nightstar. I wish you well during your visit.” The Duke’s eyes did the strange purple flicker again and she walked off towards three Lords who seemed to be arguing quietly.

“Nice job with the Grand Duke.” He whispered so quietly to her she almost didn’t hear it. “We have two more to meet.”

They wandered through the rooms, making polite introductions to various people, until they found the only man she had seen in armor at the event since they’d entered. He was handsome in that rough way of warriors who had great confidence in their bodies, with deep brown skin and almost black eyes that pierced whoever they looked at. 

“Blaze Ravenguard.” Haldraithan greeted the man warmly with an extended hand, which was grasped by the warrior’s enormous, calloused hand.

“It is good indeed to see a friendly face here.” The man smiled, but the lines on his face betrayed he frowned far more in life than smiled. He turns slightly to look at her, his eyes widening a touch, just for a moment. “And who do you have with you this evening? Last I heard, you and Florrick were talking about a betrothal.”

“Ah, well, that particular endeavor appears to have ended before it began. And probably for the best, in the end.” It was the first time she’d seen Haldraithan look uncomfortable since they’d gotten there, but it ended quickly. 

She stepped forward, knowing she was breaking protocol but intuiting that this man would appreciate it. “Lady Ailionora Lathanyll of House Nightstar, Saer Ravenguard. A distant cousin of the Lord’s.” She held her hand out delicately. 

He took it, a tiny touch and gave it back. “I appreciate a Lady with a voice of her own. Be careful, it may shock some of these men into a heart attack.” He smiled a genuine grin. “And I detect the finely developed calluses of a bowyer.”

She nodded her head. “I have trained with the longbow. I also play the harp. They are similar endeavors, understanding the weight of draw and the fine movements of the hands to accomplish a targeted outcome.”

“An interesting point of view. And do you have a blade that you favor, my Lady?”

“Well, I have found the short sword suits me best, a good balance between weight and speed. But while I am adequate in a spar, in battle I am best deployed at range.”

“In battle, my Lady? Surely, one as delicate as yourself has not had reason to fight on the field?” He didn’t seem shocked, more amused and intrigued. Haldraithen was busily chatting with another man who had wandered over, keeping an eye on her but giving her space.

“In Evereska, everyone is expected to learn combat to the best of their ability. Those that show aptitude are expected to contribute to the city’s defense. There were three raids I helped defend. As I am an excellent shot and I have talent at healing magic, it was determined that I do best where I can lend those skills. But should I be caught, I am prepared to defend myself at close quarters.” 

Haldraithen walked back over. “I apologize for the distraction. I know it's not a night for shoptalk, but this import crisis is beginning to impact even those of us who use little material or luxury goods in our homes. I had hoped there might be news of the investigation, but it seems we have not gotten any insight.”

“I may have sent some Fists I trust to look into this.” Ulder said quietly. “Shall I invite you to dinner in a few tendays?”

“That sounds delightful.” Her cousin said loudly enough to be heard easily. “However, I must get my cousin home. It’s been a long day and she is still adjusting to the colder climate here.”

“Of course.”

It took almost another hour to leave, as they were stopped by a far greater number of the Lords of the Gate. It appeared that word had spread of the Grand Duke’s appreciation of her, and there was a certain interest in meeting. On the carriage ride home, Haldraithan had warned her that she was about to be deluged by invites to teas, dinner, soirees, and balls. She promised she would let Theodore help her decide who was worth her time, and that she would coordinate with him on any events they were both invited to.

She wrote in her diary that night that she was beginning to think perhaps she had misjudged Haldraithen, a little, but that he still had terrible taste in gardening.

Chapter Text

A deluge had seemed like an exaggeration when Haldraithen said it to her on the way home from the party. As she sat at the desk in her new office that had been cleared for her, sorting through the fifty invites she had received in just three days with Theodore and Miriam, it sounded accurate. They had a system of boxes. Theodore put some directly into the ‘absolutely not’ box. Then there were the ‘absolute musts’ and finally the ‘let’s talk about it.’

“My lady, you cannot hold three hours each tenday for a single person, even if she is a legendary hero! It simply isn’t done.”

“Theodore, my tea time with Jaheira isn’t open for debate. She is my dearest friend, and who else can we be eccentric for if not our dearest friends?” 

He looked to Miriam for support, but she shrugged. “I don’t know how to say it any clearer than she did, Theodore. She’s a Jaheira super fan.”

The elderly man prayed a quick, audible prayer to Oghma for the wisdom to deal with his charge. Ailionora rolled her eyes but smiled. 

“Theodore, I apologize for my eccentricities. But she genuinely has become a close friend. I appreciate her refreshing candor and utter refusal to use titles. It feels rather more like home.” She doesn’t mention which home she is referring to.

“You put the Tillerturn naming day invite in the talk about it pile? Are you quite mad?” Miriam spluttered.

“Who are the Tillerturns again?” Nora asked, sighing. She pulled out a chart she was making of the Patriar families so she could study. This was almost as bad as when she’d been invited to that sleepover in eighth grade and hadn’t known who any of the New Kids on the Block were, based on both Miriam and Theodore’s dismayed expressions.

“They are one of the oldest Patriar families. Descended from one of the original four dukes.” Theodore intoned as though he was imparting sacred knowledge.

“Which is why I am at a loss for why it isn’t a must-attend event?” Miriam asked, still incredulous.

“Because it’s Ernest Tillertum’s daughter who is being named. She’s a bard , Mistress. She married a baker . He doesn’t even own the bakery!” 

Nora rolled her eyes at the absurdity of his argument. The statement was everything wrong with the aristocracy in four sentences. “Theodore, what better way to get into the bonafide loyalty of such a family than to show up when others won’t? I know that if I was going through a tough time, I would remember those who supported me then far more than those who showed up for my better days.”

Theodore’s brain appeared to start turning a few gears. Nora watched his eyes as he slowly got to the same place she’d landed on immediately. “You are shrewd indeed, Lady Ailionora.” He picked up the invite and put it into the must pile.

Another hour was spent debating the merits and downsides of each invite. Then Theodore mapped them to a schedule, and they had to spend another hour debating between meritorious invites that clashed either due to timing and/or location. Sara brought the three of them tea and joined in the second set of debates. But they managed to decide on a calendar for the next tenday as well as set in stone important events. A key diplomatic wedding invite, the Nightstar First Night Masquerade, a regular card-playing night with Duke Stelmane, and of course, the Winter Solstice Dinner with the Grand Duke. 

Nora had to fight to get two mornings and one day per tenday free for her meanderings in the city, but much like her teas with Jaheira, she couldn’t simply come out and say that she needed the time because she was working on a very important mission. So instead she spun it along the lines of how can she learn about the city if she never goes out into it? Theodore thought it was crazy but he also knew it was a lost cause.  

Gale Dekarios had everything he had dreamt about. He was also the most miserable he had ever been before. His best friend, a tressym named Tara, had already fled Baldur’s Gate, finding everything about his life here unbearable. She only offered promises of occasional visits. His position as Mystra’s Chosen was far less about being looked up to and valued, and far more about studying things he found of questionable value and managing the goddess’ frequent mood swings, most of which seemed to revolve around the fact that he had no interest in having sex with Her at the moment. This was ‘infuriating,’ and ‘intolerable’ per the Goddess, despite her having no fewer than sixteen other lovers.

Not that She seemed to care one whit that the reason was he was quite broken-hearted. He had pushed Ailionora away and ended their relationship deliberately. Mystra had been clear that their relationship could not continue once he reached Baldur’s Gate, but he was regretting it already. He’d told himself at the time that the allure was simply the fabulous sex and time with a beautiful woman. But he could have that, right now, with a literal goddess . It was only with some reflection that he had come to realize that what he missed wasn’t her body, although he missed her body with reasonable frequency, but rather her companionship. She challenged him without ever talking down to him. She was the first person he’d ever spent time with who had managed that balancing act, and he missed it desperately. 

He heard ripples of her when he had meetings with various influential citizens of the Gate. The most amusing was the evening prior, when he’d found out that she’d played lanceboard, the game he had taught her, with the Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate. Moreover, she’d beaten the pompous chap in five turns. He felt a sense of pride, wonder, and aching, burning grief that had followed him. Trying to sort out these troubled feelings, he’d headed to the closest thing to a wizard library the Gate contained, Sorcerous Sundries, a bespoke store selling all things magic-related at the base of a large and storied wizard’s tower.

He’d hoped to perhaps find a text to read or hear of an enchantment he could experiment with, anything that would grab his attention long enough that maybe he could forget the way he felt when she’d look at him with wonder when he’d explain something to her she hadn’t previously understood. It took less than thirty minutes to have the notion that this was possible thoroughly destroyed. Because that’s when the woman he was now aware that he maybe, sort-of, might have been in love with, walked through the doors of the shop, lovelier than he even remembered her.

The hardest part hadn’t been seeing her dressed to show off her natural grace to its highest peak, it was having to watch everyone treat her like she might as well be one of the Dukes, while she reacted just like his Ailionora would have. With kindness, ease, and a naturally comfortable presence as though all of this was as perfectly normal as when he’d met her stuck on the outside of her tiny boarding house room while her horny roommate fucked a stranger. He couldn’t blame the end of their relationship on her changing, even though he desperately wanted to. But she was just the same as she had ever been.

Gale had never really felt jealous before. He’d coveted things. Mostly praise and status. He’d never been jealous this way before, and it was an unpleasantly enlightening experience. He felt pain cracking through his chest every time she smiled as someone a little too warmly, or their hands lingered on her a touch too long. And it seemed like every person over the age of twenty in the store did. His jaw and hands ached after only a short period from the tension with which he was holding himself. 

Then, something even worse had happened. She’d spotted him in the corner where he’d tried to stand inconspicuously, her eyes lighting up and a wide smile that reached her eyes stretched across her face. He almost forgot to breathe, responding with a weak wave of his own after a moment of shock. Immediately, she’d said something to the group around her with an apologetic face, and a huge, red-headed woman in a cuirass escorted her towards him too fast for him to make a getaway without looking strange.

“Gale Dekarious! How is the Gate treating you, my friend?” She said it with genuine emotion. Was he her friend? It didn’t seem like they had left things on that good of terms. Or was that only in his head? Everything felt fuzzy.

“Gale?” Her voice held more concern. “Miriam, I think he might be having a panic attack. Do you see a chair anywhere?”

He felt outside his body, like he was watching it all unfold from behind his head but he wasn’t there. Miriam, the red-haired giantess, lifted him from under his arms, half carrying him to a curtained-off reading room to set him down on a chair. Ailionora had followed, carefully using her own hands and an ice cantrip to cool his face and neck, which was oddly soothing, and brought him back to life, mentally, at least. He remembered now that she had said she mostly used magic for healing and smiled. She didn’t need her magic, he thought, her touch alone could bring him back to life.

And then he immediately wanted to crawl in a hole and not come out for a month or two.

“Gale? I’d ask if everything was alright, but it clearly is not. What is troubling you so deeply, my friend?” He looked at her, hearing her voice sweetly say his name. 

He swallowed, unsure of how to manage this. He’d had shockingly few interactions with people who knew him, at all, really. “Oh, I think I might have overused my magic this morning, and then it was so warm in the store with all the activity.” He could hear how weak his excuse sounded, and he saw she didn’t believe it, but she let it pass. 

“Well, then, Saer Dekarious, perhaps you should be more careful in the future.” She smiled, sitting down next to him, while the bodyguard floated to the corner of the room. Her voice dropped low. “I know we didn’t part on the best possible terms, but I could use help from a friend. A friend who knows how important safekeeping secrets involving the divine can be.”

His mind flickered back to their conversation she refused to explain. ‘Even Gods have bad days, I would know’ she had said, clearly not having meant to say it. He looked up at her, weighing the pain of spending time with her against the pain of turning her away. He wasn’t terribly good at denying himself, he discovered in the moment. “I’ve missed my friend. More than words can express.” He whispered. “I’d be honored to assist you, Lady Nightstar.”

“Where are you staying, these days?” She’d asked, and he realized, with chagrin, that she must have come looking for him where he had said he would be. He’d had no idea that Mystra would simply be pulling him to her plane each night, saving him a hotel room but also denying him even a moment of privacy.

His jaw clenched in frustration. “My Goddess demands my company when I am not otherwise engaged. She sees no need for me to have accommodations, as such, in the material plane.”  He saw her look at his face, the words working their way through her clever mind. A look of sorrow passes over her. Sorrow? “It’s fine, truly. An unexpected detail of my work, to be sure, but I will adjust.”

Ailionora’s soft hand with its slightly calloused fingertips brushes his face. “If She’s…” his love, yes, he can admit it to himself. His love’s face tightens, lower lip captured by her teeth as she struggles for her next words. “There are things even a Goddess should not demand of Her Chosen, Gale.” Her tone is stern and he realizes she knows. How does she know? “If you need help…”

He smiles weakly. What could she possibly do? But he accepts the offer in which it was given, an act of care for a friend. “I appreciate it, my good friend. Perhaps I could visit you at your new home?”

“You’d be more than welcome. But I think I’d like to possibly invite you to tea with a friend, if you might be amenable.”

Plans were made, and Gale even snagged an invite to the lanceboard competition she had Theodore organizing. He watched her go, happier and heavier in heart at the same time.

Nora was quickly realizing, two weeks into diving into Baldurian society, that keeping track of all the little tidbits of information the gossiping ladies divulged, which each individually meant little but added together could potentially unlock important information, was beyond the record keeping she’d been able to cobble together. What she needed was a database program, that’s when she remembered that before there were spreadsheets, there were literal spreadsheets. Huge books that kept paper databases. Invented by accountants. 

The next day, she’d had her thrice monthly tea with Jaheira, and this time, Gale also attended. She’d already been at Jaheira’s house, sitting in her rather simple kitchen where fresh bread, jam, tea, and cream were placed. She delighted in these days, not having to pretend to care about things she simply did not. She’d already gotten a referral from Jaheira for an accountant who did sensitive work on behalf of the Harpers, and who owed Jaheira a personal favor. When Gale came in, he seemed confused. She understood she’d given him no explanation beyond an address.

“Gale Dekarios!” She had given him a chaste hug. She accepted that they were friends, but it was hard to convince her body not to react to him when they were close. The memories were still too recent and far too pleasant, so she avoided contact with him to make things easier and clearer. She didn’t miss how his eyes still tracked her sometimes, and it seemed best not to encourage something that would never be.

“Jaheira, this is Gale Dekarios. A very good friend of mine, and recently, the Chosen of Mystra.”

Gale blushed, stammering over Jaheira’s name. The half-elf gave Nora a withering look that destroyed any notion she had that the First Harper wasn’t aware of the true nature of their past relationship. “So, Gale Dekarios, what brings you to my home?”

He looked at Nora, eyes wide with uncertainty. She looked at Jaheira. “I asked him here. I needed to ask him for assistance with a matter of a nature that I did not want spoken of in a public place, and given this city’s bizarre and prudish beliefs about sex, I didn’t want to be alone with him due to our past relationship.” She always was plainspoken with Jaheira. There was no point in being otherwise. Gale was red as a ripe tomato and sweating a little. He wasn’t used to this at all. 

“Ah. Probably wise, little cub. So, ask him, then.”

“Introductions are in order. Gale, Jaheira is, well, a legend. I assume you are aware of at least her exploits.”

“I am aware of the First Harper. I imagine almost everyone in Faerun has heard her name spoken.” He gave her a nod acknowledging her impressive resume.

“And that’s Miriam. She’s - well, she’s my bodyguard, kind of. This will make more sense in a moment, but, what she truly is, is my sworn Paladin.”

Gale’s eyes nearly bugged out. “A Paladin’s Oath cannot be sworn to mortals…” He looked at her, his eyes dragging over her as his eidetic memory feverishly ran through everything she’d ever said about herself, and he took in each of her features one by one.

‘My mother was an Eladrin from another realm.’ 

‘I’m an elf, of sorts.’

‘My father is, well. It’s hard to know him.’

‘Even Gods have bad days, I would know.’

His brain sorted her appearance. Moon Elves don’t have violet eyes. Sun Elves don’t have black hair. Star Elves have shimmery, opalescent skin but white or silver hair. But there is an Elf who famously has the pale, shimmery skin of a Star Elf, with the violet eyes of a Sun Elf and the black hair of a Moon Elf.

“Sehanine Moonbow didn’t send you a dream for no reason.” He breathed.

“No,” she said, a little sad she was going to have to break his understanding of who she was. It was nice to have a friend who just saw her and not her potential. “She’s my half-sister.”

“Half? You’re no Drow, so…”

“Corellon Larethian is my father. What I told you about my mother is as true as there are terms for. Per my father, it is how my ancestry shall affect me. I am truly a High Elf.”

“An Aasimar. No, a demi-goddess. I…” He looked at her, his eyes wide as things clicked.

“Yep. Although, not quite a demi-goddess. Something, in-between.” She stated, simply. “I suppose that’ll be a bed notch you’ll enjoy bragging about someday. 

He ignored the comment. “But you were able to take a Paladin’s Oath?” 

“I have truly no idea how that worked. That’s what I need your help with.”

He looked at her. Deeply confused. “What is it you need help with?”

“I know nothing about what I am. How it works, how I’ll change, as time goes on. I don’t entirely understand how my magic works. It sort of just… does? I will something and if it’s in my powers it happens? It gets better as I learn to focus and understand what is happening but I don’t have a clue how to harness the Weave the way you speak of. Mine is inside me, I simply pull it out.”

“You want me to research and then teach you how a first generation Aasimar becomes a demi-god.” He stated, to which she nodded. “I know it is a big ask, but I can’t be seen acquiring such books or asking such questions. No one here can know my real identity outside of the three of you.” She said it as seriously as she could.

“So, Gale Dekarious, Chosen of Mystra, what type of jam do you like? I have strawberry or strawberry,” Jaheira deadpanned and then proceeded to put two pots of jam on the table.

The accountant was a miracle. Her name was Lythra, she was a halfling and she adored the concept of using double-entry accounting to create a searchable collection of information. She’d spent the better part of three days, under the ostensible reasoning of ‘teaching the Lady how to manage an estate’s account,’ working with Nora to come up with a system and helping her learn it well enough to use it. 

She’d immediately gone home and put it to use. The big ledger books the accountant had provided her, she wrote out the tabs neatly. For extra security, she didn’t write them in English. It was too close to Common. She decided to use Latin. Her Latin was nearly fluent, and she’d never heard it used once here. She opened up her journals, two tendays worth of petty gossip laid out, allowing for relatively quick cross-referencing. Within a third tenday Nora’s system had answered a question that she had been hearing about since she left Evereska. Why had trade between the East and Baldur’s Gate nearly stopped?

The answer was as simple as it was impossible for the Fist to have found. It was not the fault of the Zhentarim, although they were involved. It wasn’t the fault of any trader, mage, cult, or other nefarious group. It was caused by the collective, systemic actions of the various Patriars of the Gate and their constant attempts to get ahead by messing with trade. They had made it so difficult, so convoluted for any trader, even the Zhents , to be able to accurately price the risk of transporting goods, that the desire to take on the risk had dried up. It was so dead the Zhents stopped participating because there was no legitimate trade to hide their illegitimate trade within.

When she’d put it together, she’d laughed so hard her cousin had sent Sara to inquire after her health. When she’d come down to the library and explained it, walking him through step by step how she had put it together, he also broke down in hysterical laughter that took hours to fully abate. What a mess, they’d both said.

She decided to use her understanding to buy a favor, which she explained to her cousin. Of course, he thought the favor would be on behalf of House Nightstar, whereas truly the favor would be hers . But that was fine. That kind of soft manipulation didn’t register on Ailionora’s moral scale.

It was the Grand Duke’s Winter Solstice Dinner Party where she spent her carefully hoarded and polished coin. The event was an intimate and understated affair. It was a formal dinner, followed by musical performances put on by the guests, including children not yet old enough to be presented to society. It was a chance for those the Grand Duke genuinely liked being around to get to know each other’s families in a less lavish, showy atmosphere that encouraged conversation. Truly, the only event like it in the Gate.

Ailionora was seated between Ulder Ravenguard and the Grand Duke himself. Children were relegated to another dining room for the dinner portion of the event, but they would be brought in later. Having already met both her illustrious host and the Blaze, she relaxed, determined to enjoy the evening rather than being focused on her machinations. She’d even worn one of her velvet Elven gowns she’d had since Arvendor, although with a less modest chemise made of silk and paired with lavish jewelry. 

“Lady Nightstar, I see you have elected to not embrace Baldurian fashions this evening.” The Grand Duke gently teased her with a grin. “I must say, the style suits you.”

She grinned back. “I am Tel’Quessir, after all.” She gestures at her ears. “But I typically do try to dress in the local custom. However, I am told that this night is all about bringing our authentic selves to this little group you have selected, so I dressed authentically myself.” She grinned. “I’m sure the local gossip mill will have a field day about it.”

He laughed. “You bless us all with your authentic self.

Later, after dinner, she played her harp for the assembled guests. It was a small, Elven lap harp. She loved it for the mellow tones it produced that felt soothing to her. She had decided to play her favorite Christmas song, an Austrian tune that was a lullaby for the holy infant, but she had adapted the song for this world, rewriting the song to still be a lullaby for a babe born in winter.

Nora had no misconception about her singing voice. Her voice was low-pitched, and while it had a lovely speaking resonance, her singing tended towards flatness, so she did not sing for anyone but herself. But she could sing not too terribly when the song sat in the right range, so this night, she sang the words softly.

Still, still, still

One can hear the falling snow

For all is hushed

The world is sleeping

The stars their vigil keeping

Still, still, still

One can hear the falling snow

 

Sleep, sleep, sleep

Tis the eve of the longest night.

The night is peaceful all around you

Close your eyes

Let sleep surround you

Sleep, sleep, sleep

The stars bathe you in their light.

 

Dream, dream, dream

Of the joyous days to come.

Dream of sun-filled days without number;

I’ll watch you as you sweetly slumber

Dream, dream, dream

Of the joyous days to come.

 

The song had the desired effect, providing her with a sweet dose of nostalgia that filled the hole she would likely always have from leaving behind Earth, while also providing her a way to fulfill her duties as an Elven noblewoman in a human city. 

She’d also watched while the children performed. Some sang or played instruments. Ravenguard’s son, Wyll, had done a choreographed fight scene to music played by another girl on a lute. It was adorable. The kid was in the awkward early middle-school phase, but he had oodles of natural charisma anyway. He’d come over to ask her if she’d teach him to shoot a bow, ‘life a real Elf.’ She’d laughed but agreed to a visit. She had a hard time telling a child no whom was asking for something reasonable. Perhaps she’d always be trying to solve her childhood vicariously through others, she thought wryly when the Blaze had asked her why she had so quickly aquiesed to his son. 

She’d finally gotten him alone for a lanceboard game. Alone being relative, as it was in a room with dozens of others playing cards or other games, but the general din allowed for a quiet, somewhat private conversation. He’d begun the conversation asking her about her experiences in the Gate, angling it to ask about the crime she may have experienced during her sojourns through the lower city.

She’d quickly turned it around, posing her questions. “Blaze, would you be interested to know what I think has happened to the trade coming from the East?” She said it breathlessly, like it was a normal thing to say, following it with, “Cleric’s pawn forward two.”

“Lady Nightstar, are you suggesting that you know the underlying cause?” He paused, his eyes locking onto the board. “Cyric in front of king.”

“Blaze, no, I am telling you I do. I am also now adding that you will not like my answer, because it is far harder to solve than taking down a bad guy. Castle pawn forward two.”

“And what reason would you have to put this together, my Lady? Eh, queen’s pawn forward two.”

“I didn’t. I simply listened and wrote down everything I heard. Then I tagged and cross-referenced the available data, and the picture emerged. I was actually simply trying to understand the complex interpersonal relationships of the upper city. Queen to King’s corner. An excellent match.” She held out a hand for the cordial handshake. 

Ravenguard stared at the board like it was a lying criminal, but after a minute, he threw his hands up. “How you get me every time, I do not understand, Ailionora. So, what is this cause?”

She smiled wryly. “Keep an open mind, and think through what I am about to say before you reject it.” She began resetting the pieces on the board as she spoke, slowly. “Each patriar family is highly motivated to do one of two things, do something better than everyone else, or tear down one of the others. But the problem is that tearing down something is always far, far easier than building something new.”

“I follow, so far.” 

“Take your turn, we are being watched.” She simpered at the Blaze, then turned and returned a smile to the Grand Duke. 

“Kings pawn forward two.”

“No individual has stopped trade, but their collective destructive actions have incrementally raised the riskiness of trading with Baldur’s Gate to the point where for traders, the risks now exceed the spoils. Until that changes, trade will continue to dry up. Queen’s pawn forward one.”

The powerful man sat dead still, his left eye beginning to twitch aggressively. She laughed as though he had told a joke, her noise and actions a distraction from his face, giving him time to get it under control. 

“They’ve simply… their collective greed is bringing down the whole house of cards? Ugh, castle pawn forward two.”

“It is as you say. And it is both sad and terrible. Either, the greed must be corralled, or it needs to be aimed better. I suppose I’ll match you, castle pawn forward two. Let’s be honest, we aren’t playing. But I’m afraid this is as far as I can help. I’m not a politician, just a woman quite dedicated to fulfilling her role to her utmost. If you wish to look at the final straw, the Sashtenar’s trying to undercut the Portyr’s fledging port lending business started a war to the bottom last year that truly drove out all functionality.” She abruptly stood up, despite the game, if the mess of moves they had made could be called a game, and offered him a hand. “Good evening, Blaze. I have an early morning.”

Florrick had enjoyed the perks of being in on the secret of Lord Szarr, she thought. She’d been invited to his lavish parties where every type of debauchment ever dreamt of was on offer, made easy to consume. He’d connected her with others willing to look sideways when, as he put it, matters of great importance were on the line. He’d gotten her invited to the Grand Duke’s most private events, helping her to become a trusted figure seen as loyal and reliable. All in only a few short months. 

She didn’t ask questions like how had Szarr made friends with the vampire lord in Athkatla who provided him with the tamed spawn, or why he was willing to compel people on his behalf. She knew, if she let herself think about it, his easy answers were lies and the truth was likely horrifying. After all, it was a vampire lord they were speaking about. But she chose to pretend to be blissfully unaware. 

Truly, the only downside of this relationship is that she had signed essentially a blank check after her initial payment. An open agreement to fulfill any favor asked for, without questions or demanding anything, not even what it was one might be truly doing. She had thought about it, the first night after she’d sent that pretty spawn back to the palace, what the price might be, and thrown up for hours. She’d resolved to never do that again, and she hadn’t.

Today, the first check was being drawn on the account, so to speak. Lord Szarr wished her to find out every single thing she could, leaving no detail out, about the raven-haired Elven woman in House Nightstar who had caught the eye of the High Duke. She very briefly cringed as her mind thought of the many possible reasons the nasal-voiced sadist might be interested in a young, beautiful Elven woman. And then she blocked it out, all thoughts replaced with the knowledge of how easy and perfect her life would be as the advisor to the Grand Duke, the position Szarr had promised she’d have within the decade. A blip for an Elf.