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Daggerford wasn’t exactly a large town, and that’s why Oswald had ended up with his makeshift cell being one of the private prayer rooms in the Morninglow Tower. It was already bad enough that the supposed courtroom had just been the Guildmaster’s Hall with some of the benches reshuffled. Isteval had wanted the trial to take place in Waterdeep where things could be done officially and so that the council’s knowledge of Oswald and his contribution to Dragon slaying could be taken into account when charging him. Still, the Aasimar was such a feared and loathed figure in Daggerford itself that the residents of the town had near insisted the proceedings take place in a setting they could easily observe. Many people had come to watch the conviction of the Sun Slayer that afternoon.
Besides, it suited Oswald just fine to not have his actions in the most recent months lend him credibility as the scene he caused by pleading guilty and asking to be sentenced to death was one he had been planning for a while. The Waterdeep council interfering to present him as a changed man who worked for the good of the realm would have only complicated matters, especially Rian who had formed somewhat of a liking to the Paladin. And he was guilty. And it was of crimes that deserved the sentence he had requested.
And so it was that Oswald Wilder found himself sitting stiffly on a pew surrounded by tapestries depicting Amaunator, with nothing but a locked door and a jug of water for company. It felt strange to be back in his old place of worship. It was interesting that they hadn’t bothered to try and charge him for the graverobbing he took part in last time he was here, but Oswald figured the crimes of mass murder and borderline small-scale religious genocide were probably enough. And that graverobbing had been done with Isteval’s permission.
Robin had already tried to convince the guards standing outside the room to let them in so they might talk to Oswald, but they hadn’t been keen to begin with, and the Aasimar’s call that he very much did not want to talk to Robin turned the Ranger away. He did feel some guilt for this, after just asking to be hanged, giving his closest friend no explanation. They were likely not coping well, and Oswald dreaded to think what colour the Eladrin's hair was turning at this change of events; the reality that at dawn, he would be dead. Perhaps the auntumy orange he never really got to see but heard about when they first explained how their Feywild nature bonded their emotions to their appearance. Or Lord forbid, the snow white it had gone when Vivienne’s curse took their emotions; trapped in some inescapable winter.
When the Paladin heard voices outside of his supposed prison, he assumed Robin was back for another try, to talk him out of what he was doing or say goodbye or some combination of the two. So when a new voice, muffled through the thick wood, made itself known, it was a shock to Oswald. Especially as he knew exactly who it belonged to, as the tonality and rhythm of his words and every quirk of his voice was engraved onto the Aasimar’s very heart. The lock soon clicked open and hinges groaned to admit the newest occupant of the room. For a moment it seemed as if the guards would be observing this interaction, but eventually, careful hands that Oswald knew too well closed the door behind him.
Ianos Lysander didn’t sit on the pew beside his old friend, preferring to lean against the wall next to a sconce, the candle casting soft shadows over his face. He stared at Oswald for a few moments with a face screaming with resentment and pity that made the older man’s heart sink. It was the look he always used to give him when he was caught sneaking out of a tavern in the morning, staggering hungover back home. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation to be reminded of those times, knowing now the jealousy and misery Ianos must have felt finding the pieces of Oswald left over after a night out of hedonistic actions and flirtation with people who would never have dreamed of caring about him as much as the man in the candlelight did.
“That was quite a riot you caused today,” Ianos finally spoke, tearing his eyes away from Oswald. “Many people are overjoyed at the outcome, your friends? Not so much.” The Paladin made a noise of soft agreement.
“I wouldn’t expect them to be. I have just set myself up for execution.”
Ianos considered him again for a moment, this time with an unreadable expression. Oswald thought that was worse. At least when he could discern the other’s emotions he had a clue what he was thinking, even if it caused painful reminiscence. But this had his face wiped clean, no way to understand what he could possibly be thinking in the moment. Yes, emotionless was definitely worse.
“Why?” The hollowness of Ianos’ voice hurt.
“Isteval was trying to get a reduced sentence, some bullshit about my contributions to the safety of the Sword Coast in taking down the Cult of the Dragon balancing out my misdemeanours,” Oswald shook his head. “I won’t take such pity.”
“Sir Isteval was doing you a favour a man in your situation should never be privy to.” He disputed. “It was a second chance, you should have taken it.”
“No.” Oswald didn’t elaborate for a while. “A reduced sentence still means years locked away. You saw how the residents acted at my trial. I am hated. I would have to be imprisoned in Waterdeep, and I wouldn’t last a fucking day. How many people in there do you think have lost family or friends to Bhaal’s minions? And I wouldn’t exactly be able to defend myself, without my Oath I’m back to that scrawny bastard I was when you were training me. Death is quicker, easier. And I should have died that night anyway.”
“But you didn’t. I did.” Ianos reminded him. “There’ll be no one to bring you back like you did to me, you realise that?”
“I do. No one will ever be as desperate and heartbroken as I was to drive me to your resurrection.”
“Yes, you are quite a different man.” There’s a painful softness to his voice that makes Oswald want to weep until he chokes.
“And not any better for it in your eyes.” If not for the way his voice broke with a strangled sob halfway through, one would have assumed Oswald to be jeering. Hurling a pitiful insult Ianos’ reason for no longer feeling like he used to that he confessed to the other a few days after he was brought back to life.
“You’re not who I knew you as, yet…” The pause as Ianos decided whether he truly wanted to say this stretches the distance between the two like a chasm. “With time I might have learned to love you again.”
Oswald didn’t let the avalanche he was currently experiencing show on his face. He quirked his lips into an appreciative smile at Ianos’ words. He most certainly didn’t let out the agonising scream hiding in his breath nor cry the river that the blinking of his eyes threatened. He almost didn’t believe Ianos. Whether that sentence was the truth or not, Oswald had always been undeserving of the blonde man’s affections, and that was a constant in his life.
“Unfortunately we are severely lacking in time.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to add the tonality of a joke to his words, even if that’s what it was. Oswald changed the subject then, just to avoid dwelling on this new revelation. “How are you, Ianos? I didn’t see you at the trial.”
“No, I couldn’t face it. Knowing all of those things you did were because of me-”
“Because of the bastards who murdered you,” Oswald interjected sharply.
“Nevertheless, it would not have done me any favours to be there. Whether it was because of those who hanged me or not, my involvement with you is enough that I am somewhat unfavourable.” He paused, before finally pushing off from the wall and into the pew beside Oswald, the two equal in height now. “Many still consider me a traitor, which is surprising, but only in that these people could not have been old enough to know me or live through that night and so I’d assume there is some sort of story passed through generations. It would appear you’re something of a legend.”
“Yes. The Fallen Paladin who squandered his divinity for rage and power. It works rather well as a tale to warn naughty children,” He almost smiled. “Do your chores or the Sun Slayer will cut out your throat.”
“Did you ever cut out a child’s throat?”
“I don’t think you’d like the answer to that,” Oswald replied honestly. There was little point in lying over such a thing anymore.
“No, probably not.” Ianos reverted back to his earlier train of thought. “I am not the most popular anymore. There are many calling for me to be kicked from the board of Guilds, some even going so far as to suggest it prudent I am dismissed as a Paladin entirely. Sir Isteval is quick to shut them down of course, despite contrary belief, I am not a traitor.” He paused again, before adding on. “He has been good to me.”
“Has he?” Oswald was unable to bring himself to put any feeling into that one.
“Not in the way you’re assuming, I assure you. He’s in his fifties.” Ianos almost seemed affronted at the implication.
“You would be too if you weren’t in the ground for thirty years. And, for that matter, as am I.” The Paladin rebuked.
“You’re different. You look about twenty-nine.”
“That’s Aasimars for you. Fucked up ageing.” Oswald shrugged.
A brief silence fell over the two intermittent only with Oswald glancing periodically at the man beside him. He still wasn’t sure why his old friend had come to visit him here in his cage, or why apparently now was a good time to tell him that perhaps something could have become of the fluctuating feelings of adoration in each of their hearts. Maybe the fact Oswald would die tomorrow is why. There’s absolutely no consequence for anything said in the room when only one of them will live to see the next sunset.
“Oswald,” The way Ianos said his name was so agonisingly delicate as if each syllable was glass, it nearly tore the Aasimar in two. “Is there anything I can do? Right now, in this moment; anything. And I swear on my recently vacated grave that it will be done.”
Oswald chuckled to himself a bit.
“Not anything that is worth swearing completion of.” For once though, Oswald allowed himself to give in to his basest desires and continued talking. “I would make a request of you, that may seem foolish given the situation, and that I would not dream you go through with it unless you actually wished to.”
“I said anything, Sparrow. You’ve suffered enough for one selfish favour.” The use of his old nickname nearly caused the Paladin to shed a tear, but he refrains.
“Kiss me.” Oswald turned to meet his eyes. “Just once, so I know what it could have been like.”
It was Ianos who cried then, not Oswald, despite how much the conversation had threatened it. One solitary tear tracked down his face as if he had only just realised the gravity of the situation. This man next to him, who had killed, sold his soul to the Lord of Murder, fought every day, all for him, would be dead soon. That’s what gets him to comply, brush away the wetness on his cheek and take Oswald’s face in his hands.
The kiss was sweet. It conveyed what years of silence and negligent affection could never. It was every look Ianos gave Oswald when he was turned away, every tear that Oswald wept when Ianos died. Every drop of blood on Oswald’s blade spilt for the man with his lips to his, it drowned them. The two were anchors, stuck in that perpetual agony of what if and regret and every unsaid word. All the ellipses and wandering possibilities were destroyed with such a simple act of two men afraid for the future who battled death and succumbed to it in such a way that fear should not have even been an issue and yet still it infected them, hurling its bitterness even into such tenderness. It was heartache that could no longer be pushed aside, coalescing and eviscerating into this deadly fervorous machination.
“It would appear you have given me something to die for,” Oswald whispered against Ianos’ mouth.
“Poetic really, given that I died for much the same.” The blonde replied, equally as quietly. He stood up, face clouded with variations of sorrow and looked at the man sitting on the pew for a last time. Despite what had just transpired, he was still leaving. Still gone. “Goodnight, Oswald.”
“Ianos?” He was halfway out of the door before the Aasimar stopped him. He took a moment before speaking, expression final. “I will continue to love you, as I have my entire life.”
“I know you will.”
To Oswald, Ianos had never looked more beautifully radiant than he did walking away from him for the last time.