Chapter Text
Leaving what remained of Moonrise for Mol and the rest of the tiefling kids to loot, Sorcha headed back to their camp, which had been set up in the central plaza of Reithwin. She could see tracks across the ground from Aylin's light, which had shrivelled patches of the shadow curse, where once the darkness had been thickest.
As soon as she stepped into camp, Gale stormed up to her.
"What in the hells were you thinking, drugging me like that? Where's your much lauded championing of free will now, you utter hypocrite?" he screamed, taking a step towards her, hands readying to cast.
“Gale, calm down,” she said quickly. “I -”
"You have caused me to fail Mystra AGAIN AND I WILL NOT HAVE IT!" he thundered, carried away on a flood of fury.
Sorcha did her best not to be flustered.
"Look," she began tentatively, "it wasn't my idea, but… "
She could see Gale beginning the distinctive hand gestures for a Power Word spell and flinched, just as Wyll ran in ahead of her. Stepping to stand squarely in front of the explosive wizard, Wyll worked on apologising, calming him, so she took the opportunity to sneak away out of sight.
Aylin and Isobel had settled in a remote corner of the camp. Shadowheart headed towards them, ready to hear what Aylin had to say, but stopped by Sorcha's tent first.
"Come with me, please? I don't want to hear whatever the paladin has to say on my own," the cleric pleaded, and Sorcha accompanied her down to where the two Selûnites stood, arms entwined.
Shadowheart spoke, frowning up at Aylin. "What do you know about me? You spoke of my past, being chased by wolves - I told no one about that... Almost no one. But I certainly didn't share that with you."
A sadness passed over the aasimar's face as Aylin looked gravely at her.
"There's nothing I can tell you that you do not already know, deep down inside,” she explained gently. “They chiselled away at any sense of your self that did not fit their plan. They made you forget."
Shadowheart bristled. "I chose to do that. To protect Shar's - "
"- secrets. Yes, yes." Aylin nodded. "But how would you know that you consented? You only know what they told you. But when you freed me, you severed a bond between me and that dog, Thorm. A bond of pain - his, inflicted on me. When I laid eyes on you, I sensed a similar bond. You, tethered to two others, someplace distant.”
As she spoke, she extended her hand, as if meaning to take Shadowheart’s in hers.
“Let me help you remember?" she offered, as Shadowheart hesitated, and then reached back.
A pale light spread from the aasimar to the cleric and Sorcha felt Shadowheart's mind tug at the edges of her own. She knew this sensation. Shadowheart sharing her vision, her memory, through the tadpole.
Her mind joined with Shadowheart's, and something pull at them both, bringing you elsewhere...
Inside her mind she saw Shadowheart as a young girl again, in moonlit woods, scared. A wolf moved towards her, fangs bared, growling as it inched towards the girl. A masked figure rose behind her, pulling her close, almost like a shield. Several other masked people aimed sharp spears at the wolf, prodding it until a wildshape dissolved into the figure of a dark haired elven man. The vision cleared and her consciousness was back in the camp.
"What... who was that man?" Shadowheart asked shakily.
Aylin looked down at her. "You already know. Do you not recognise your own blood?"
"My father?” she gasped, eyes wide. “That was him? What happened to him?"
The aasimar nodded. "That is him. He lives still, and your mother too."
"No, it can't be,” Shadowheart said, shaking her head decisively. I'm an orphan."
"And who told you that? Your adoptive family?," Aylin said sadly, as Shadowheart paused, the idea beginning to sink into her mind. “You are not to blame. You were young, impressionable. They took you from Selûne because they wanted to break and remake you in Shar's image. But you are a child no longer. You are a woman. One who knows what must be done."
"My parents,” Shadowheart whispered “I need to save them."
"I'll help," volunteered Sorcha.
"Your parents are certainly imprisoned with your abductors,” Aylin advised. “But be warned. You may have once thought of them as comrades, mentors, friends, even lovers. They will all be enemies now."
The aasimar reached behind where she stood, bringing out the Spear of Night that Shadowheart had cast into the Shadowfell.
"Careful, can't that kill you?" asked Sorcha in alarm.
Aylin shook her head. "Whatever Shar calls her own, Selûne has equal claim to. They are two sides of the same coin. Their power is equal and mirrored. Take it - you will find it useful. What you do with it... that will be up to you. Same as before."
Clutching the spear, Shadowheart headed back to her tent, deep in thought.
Lae'zel walked over to where Shadowheart sat cross-legged outside her tent, still looking dazed and lost after the events of the Shadowfell. Slightly worried, Sorcha moved nearer, staying within earshot just in case she had to break up another fight..
"I never thought that you and I would share something such as this, ra'stil, but we have both been betrayed by those who demanded our worship," Lae'zel said brusquely as she sat down beside the cleric."We were taught 'Vlaakith'ka sivim hrath krash'ht: Only in Vlaakith may we find light.These were the first words I ever read on tir'su slate. But they are no mere aphorism. They are law, they are creed - the root from which the ten-thousand protocols stem. Forsaking one means forsaking everything, that is how I was taught."
Giving a heavy sigh, Shadowheart replied, "And I was taught never to trust or depend on anyone or anything, because all would be lost in the end."
She looked younger, vulnerable for a moment, before her mouth set and anger roared through her very being. Sorcha recognised the spark of revenge taking root.
"If Aylin is to be believed,”Shadowheart said, a bitter edge to her voice, “Shar stole me from my family and repeatedly wiped my memory. She lied to me, every single day, attempting to turn me into some tool for her use."
"Yes, and if Voss speaks true - if ascension is a lie, if tadpole purification is a fairy tale, then I have not sinned against Vlaakith... She has sinned against me."
Lae'zel stood abruptly, and loudly declared: "I will have my revenge, and I swear to you that I will aid your own revenge, should you wish it. I name you T'lak'ma Ghir, sister in freedom."
Shadowheart looked stunned, as everyone within earshot smiled, standing and shouting "T'lak'ma Ghir!" along with Lae'zel, finally collecting herself enough to give a small nod of acceptance.
Later, in her tent, Sorcha put her head in Astarion's lap, wriggling a little to get comfortable. He looked down at her, a fond smile on his face. Her hair splayed across his thighs and she noticed he was combing through it with one hand. Astarion was humming gently to himself, looking uncharacteristically peaceful.
She looked up at him, serious for once. "We probably do need to continue that conversation, now that the imminent threat of death has gone, don't you think?"
"I suppose we do," he agreed. "What we like, what we hate, what we need, what dredges up poison."
Astarion paused. "But first, you need to know what Raphael said - unless someone else told you?"
"It wasn't their tale to tell," she replied. “I was waiting for you
"Can I… I mean, is it alright if I share it through the tadpole? You might notice something I didn't," he asked.
"Of course, go ahead," she said, frowning in anticipation of what was about to be revealed.
Surely nothing good.
He shared the vision of Raphael's visit, and she could feel him trying not to let a surge of abject terror leak through the tadpole to accompany it, a blow to his gut with each step of the revelation. Rage boiled inside her when she knew the extent of it.
"Gods," she said quietly. "That weaselly, filthy, goblin-felching gnoll fucker. We're going to tear him into little shreds, right?"
"I don't know yet," he said. "I need a plan, a good plan this time, and it occurs to me that if I took his place in this diabolical ritual then I could ascend myself. No need to hide from the sun once the tadpole has gone. No need to fear anyone ever again."
She was staring at him open-mouthed. "That's a brilliant idea! You'd be unstoppable, even more magnificent than you are now."
He smirked, but didn’t reply, and she knew the thought had already occurred to him. Sorcha paused, thinking things through.
"But wouldn't it mean sacrificing your siblings?” she asked. “Or even your soul?"
"Trust me, darling, my siblings beg for death every day, just as I did. I'd be doing them a favour. As for my soul, I'd have to see the contract, somehow. If I'm giving Mephistophes seven souls, then hopefully he won't also need mine."
"Let's hope then,” she muttered. “We deserve a lucky break, Tymora willing."
They lay in contented silence for a while before Sorcha raised herself up on one elbow and reached for a swig of wine.
"So… this, us. We need to work out a way of not damaging each other," she said.
"What is it that you need? From me, to be clear?" Astarion, for once, was paying attention, garnet eyes intent upon all her little body movements he'd come to read so well.
"More than anything I think I need honesty. Or..." she glanced up at his worried look before continuing, "...or if not honesty then no lies, is that easier? So you can still choose to say nothing."
"I can try that, I think," Astarion agreed.
He opened his mouth to speak further, but lapsed into silence.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Something I noticed… back a while ago, at Last Light, I thought I saw you flinch momentarily when I tied your hands together with my belt. Something to avoid?"
Sorcha released a long hiss of breath. "I thought, for a minute, I thought you were going to thrash me with it. I was ready to say 'velvet', that's one thing I don't want, not ever, not like that. And no collars. Two things."
He nodded, remembering Godey, remembering his skin flayed off, long before the carvings on his back. Once that contract was engraved on him, his back was sacrosanct, not to be damaged, unlike the rest of him, but that still left plenty of flesh to peel.
"I don't think either of us want that. Though I meant to ask, a long time ago - you let that priest back in the goblin camp whip you, why was that?"
Sorcha thought back to that, only a few tendays ago yet feeling like an age.
Why had she so readily agreed?
"I think, well… I was feeling overwhelmed, confused, and this was something familiar,” she squirmed, not sure if she had revealed too much. “Pain can bring a certain pleasure sometimes, and it definitely brings clarity. For all the damage that Xilona did, she did at least expand my boundaries for what I count as pleasurable."
"So do you want me to hurt you, darling?" he asked gently.
"No, I really don't think so - but there's an edge there, where you're not really sure which side of the line you're on. That can be interesting, as long as I trust you to stop when I ask."
Astarion nodded at that. "But tying you up? Holding you still? What about that, is that a problem?"
She wriggled happily next to him, a slow smile forming. "Far from it, I find I like that a great deal."
"Good," he purred, smiling lasciviously. "I rather like having you at my mercy."
She felt her insides dissolve as he spoke. It took all her will to fight the need pooling inside her and drag her attention back as he continued speaking.
"I like teasing you, like seeing you get all riled up for me,” Astarion advised. “But I'm not sure about more than that - the memories can… intrude."
Sorcha watched as Astarion chewed at his lip while he was thinking what to say next. "I like having that sort of power over you, but honestly I don't really know what to do with it. Or at least I don't know what I'm comfortable doing."
He stared off into the corner of the tent as he continued speaking, softer now, so that she had to strain to hear.
"I've acted the part of being in control, many times,” he confessed. “But it was always exactly scripted. I was told what I was allowed to do, how much, how often and in what order - it wasn't about my pleasure, it was purely to benefit those clients who enjoyed playing at being humiliated."
He paused again. "That was better, overall, than the clients who preferred the other role. They knew I hated it, but Cazador compelled me, in front of them, so they knew that they could get away with anything short of my death."
Astarion shuddered, and Sorcha sat up, wrapping her arms around him, holding him gently as he calmed himself again.
"So what do you need, to feel safe?” she asked quietly. “Is it to be in control, to have the power?"
"To be in control," he agreed. "To not be a bit part in someone else's play. But that takes your choice away, doesn't it?"
Heat bloomed through her at the mere thought of being under his type of 'control', so different from the reality of control that she had experienced before.
Strange, how he did this to her, even after the last few days.
"I could choose to let you,” she advised, emphasising the word. “If I can be certain that a word will stop you, then we both have power. But it's that certainty that's difficult. It's the trust that's scary, not the sex."
She chuckled.
"And to be absolutely clear, this is in private, not when we're in the middle of some battle - you try to get me heated in the middle of a fight and you'll find your perfect hair is on fire!"
He huffed out a laugh.
"I think we will have to experiment, what do you think?" she asked.
"Darling, if sex is off limits for now, what about teasing?"
As he spoke, Astarion stared deep into her eyes and very slowly licked around his mouth, laughing at her indrawn breath.She tried to focus, despite the distraction..
"I do know that I still need relief,” she chuckled. “So please, try not to do too much teasing without giving me an outlet, even if that outlet is my own hand?"
His smirk was back.
Damnable cocky git. What am I getting myself into?
"Well, my sweet, if you have to resort to that kind of relief, maybe we could try the tadpole again. You liked that, didn't you? And it's certainly fun to watch."
She thinks back on the last scene he shared through his tadpole, the view of her unrestrained desire.
"Astarion,” she said, picking her words carefully. “I worry that… sharing minds when I'm thinking of you like that might make you feel that I only see you that way. I don't want you falling back into that mindset, you are so much more than your body, gorgeous though it is."
He paused, frowning for a moment. "I think… I think we could try. We could make new memories, for some of those things at least?" he said softly.
"We could," she agreed. "Not tonight though, every muscle in my body is screaming. It's been a very long day."
"Sleep then?" he asked. "Can I trance beside you until it's my turn on watch?"
His hopeful smile warmed her heart.
"Of course you can, Astarion."
After the heavy sleep of the truly exhausted, Sorcha woke alone to the tang of bacon in the air.
Gale must be awake then, time to face the music.
Filled with apprehension, she dressed and headed over to the campfire to talk to Gale.
"Gale. I apologise, but I didn't want to see you explode," she said straightforwardly, fighting the urge to add ‘literally’.
"It's alright, Sorcha,” Gale said, albeit begrudgingly. “Wyll has already confessed to setting the whole thing up. I find myself very pleased to still be in one piece this morning, although I doubt Mystra will be happy."
"Oh, fuck Mystra with Elminster's pointy staff," chimed in Karlach.
Gale gave a disapproving tut.
"I'm sure she had her reasons,” he muttered. ”But given what we now know I can't help but feel that everyone had a lucky escape. Who knows what the orb would have done to an actual Netherese relic."
The wizard paused, and Sorcha sensed he was trying to control his temper.
"Regardless of that," he continued, his voice firm. "You are never to dose me with a sleeping potion again, or any other potion for that matter. It was most inappropriate!"
"Very well, Gale,” Sorcha agreed readily “I'm sorry, and I promise most sincerely that I will never let Wyll talk me into dosing you with something ever again."
Hopefully he won't notice the loophole there, never know when I'll need to silence him.
Their group was getting larger by the day, too unwieldy to travel safely all as one. Sorcha, Astarion, Lae'zel, Wyll and Jaheira travelled in the foremost group, heading out of Reithwin, while the others packed up camp and would follow.
An ornate bridge spanned the road ahead, a remnant of guard posts from back in Reithwin's glory days. As they approached, Sorcha heard a chiming sound from Lae'zel's pack.
"Kaincha,” Lae'zel muttered in annoyance. “The qua'nith sounds - Voss gave it to me, it alerts when others of my kind are near. We must prepare for an ambush."
Astarion peeled off, doubling back so that he could reach the rooftops. Jaheira turned panther and disappeared from sight. Sorcha, Wyll and Lae'zel crept up the ramp leading to the bridge, eyes searching for a flicker of movement in the dark.Something caught Lae'zel's eye and she indicated an area central on the bridge.
"There!” she hissed. “Put your spells there, I see the sarth in the centre."
Sorcha sent an urgent whisper into the darkness. "Jaheira, don't go on the bridge!" before focusing a Hunger of Hadar spell directly on the central span.
There appeared to be five gith in total, three on the bridge, currently choking as their heat was drained from them, and two on the road below. One of those below seemed to be having their throat ripped out by an invisible creature, and the other already had several arrows protruding from his abdomen
Every time one of the gith fought their way to the edge of the dark cloud, Wyll released a blast of eldrich force, knocking them back in. Lae'zel loosed arrow after arrow directly at the commander, but many glanced off harmlessly.
With a shout of "Hshar'lak" the gith leader leapt through the deadly cloud, landing at Lae'zel's back and sweeping a vicious blow across her head. As Lae'zel reeled back, Sorcha hit the attacker with Shocking Grasp, pausing her for a moment and giving Wyll the opening to slice her throat with his rapier. The sarth gurgled out some words and Sorcha found her strength being drained, healing the warrior who had been about to die. She reacted instantly, fire blazing from her hands, watching with revulsion as the gith's skin curled and peeled from her face and she fell to the ground.
Astarion and Jaheira had swiftly dealt with those on the ground, so Wyll sent a Fireball onto the bridge, killing the last two gith in one fell swoop.
Lae'zel staggered to her feet, still bleeding from the head wound. The panther turned back into Jaheira and cast a healing spell upon the injured gith.
"Tsk'va! It is as we suspected - my own people hunt my head!" Lae'zel snarled. "But they are a disgrace to their creche, to make such a clumsy and incompetent ambush."
As the party rejoined and finally set foot on the road to Baldur's Gate, Sorcha noticed an unfamiliar brightening in the sky behind her. She turned and breathed out a soft "oh" of surprise. The gnarled roots were retreating, fading away. The central blasted tree was wreathed in glowing light, as if putting out leaves of pure radiance and the dark sky was melting away to show the pale blues and pinks of true dawn, the first in a century.
Hearing a thud beside her , Sorcha looked across to see Halsin falling to his knees, a disbelieving smile on his face as tears poured from his eyes. She knelt down beside him and wrapped her arms around him, as far as she could reach. Slowly Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll and Gale added to the hug, tears falling freely. Even Astarion carefully wrapped his arms around both Sorcha and a bit of Halsin's arm as they all felt the relief of one good thing in the midst of all the ongoing horror.
Jaheira and Lae'zel stood sombrely, one either side, guarding in case of further attack, but both looking far less stern than usual.