Chapter Text
Lae'zel considered silently the man kneeling in the tent before her. She didn't claim to know everything about the Drow she had considered worthy of sharing her body with. The Lolthite Cleric she had chosen as her lover.
Lover.
She narrowed her eyes at the thought even as the idea warmed her thoughts. Such concepts had never been her intentions at the start...and she knew it had been the same with him. She had been the firm hand, the dominant force to his need to be claimed, and to submit...and that had worked fine for them. Love had never been part of the deal...and yet...
It was rare for her to be able to catch him like this so unawares and she was careful to keep her presence unknown. When his tent was closed, he was not to be disturbed and the person he was if you did...was not the man they had come to know outside of it. This was the only place he could go to be away from the others...and to be close to his Goddess.
He was on his knees before a rudimentary altar consisting of little more than an obsidian bowl and a sacrificial knife. The knife he had had on him when they were taken...but the bowl he had had to find. It was not enough...not even close to enough as he had confided in her many times. Often were the times he would lament that he could not do more with their present company.
These were things she could understand, even appreciate, but he was right that their companions would likely not agree.
Still...she had seen him struggle more and more as time went on...though his spells certainly did not reflect his fears and the markings on his skin remained as bright as the day he had been taken. It did nothing to ease his mind...or his doubts...
Now he was focused completely on his prayers. His eyes closed and lips moving, speaking in his native tongue which she did not understand. He was nude but this was also not unusual, and he held the sacrificial knife in his hand, the tip pressed against his own chest. A show of contrition. He had no sacrifices to give in exchange for her blessings so he must always be prepared that she may instead ask for him to give of himself. Payment for his many failures.
Divimar was confused as his prayers continued. Unaware of the audience behind him. He said his prayers...and his spells returned to him...time and time again. Every day...and he simply didn't understand it. Was that to be his only response? It had been many days since he had been able to perform any rights to her in thanks. Certainly nothing proper. He could say his decisions to kill the heretical Minthara and Nere were in her name, and surely he did!...but without proper ritual would Lolth agree? Was this silence her acceptance...or her denial?
He had long ago accepted his place within her church as the male that he was. He knew he would be asked for more than his female counterparts. That his devotion would be tried more severely, but always before he had considered it worth it. Worth whatever physical pains it brought him. He'd even enjoyed the many times he had been bade to pay through his own flesh with many of the priestesses, both through his pain or his pleasure...or often both. Even when it had cost him an eye at the hands of his own Matron simply for his crime of being born the wrong gender and daring to think himself worthy of the title of Priest. The castration he had performed upon himself for the same crime, for the hatred against his own unworthy sex for which he wanted nothing more than to be free of.
Prices worth being paid for Her favor...or so he had long believed.
Now he was displaced...and lost...and left to founder. He felt himself changing. His sense of self wearing away in his time away from his peers as surely as his Drow made armor and weaponry had done...and this new him had no place in the world to which he'd been born, or alongside the Goddess to whom he had pledged his everything. Never before now would he have fought to free slaves...or laid healing hands on those too obviously weak to deserve it...
...Or felt love for anyone outside of the Goddess herself.
He had thought at first that the guardian in his dreams, the powerful Drow warrioress who had chosen him from within the artifact, had been given to him by his great queen. A gift for his devotion so that he would not fall to The Absolute as those other Drow had. That she was the guidance he had asked for. That he had been chosen for this mission to see The Absolute destroyed. In HER name.
But that hadn't been true and now he knew that.
Had it not been for that Illithid, The Emperor, he would have fallen slave to the tadpole in his head as surely as had all those others. Would she have even cared? Did his many sacrifices mean anything?
"Where are you? Why do you not speak to me? Guide me...test me...demand of me...anything! I will give it!" He begged desperately from his unchanged position.
But the silence continued.
He felt tears prick at his eye and the feeling, that obvious sign of weakness, made him angry. His hand shook and in frustration he pressed the knife into his flesh and cut a line across the space above his heart. He let the sharp pain in his body push away the deeper pain that came from within. With a shaky gasp he let his hand fall and stared at the blood glittering on the blade emptily. He could convince himself that she had asked him to do as he had, had demanded he punish himself...but he knew that was as much a lie as the Illithid had been.
She had never demanded of him anything at all. She didn't care. She never had.
He was shaking his head even as the thoughts formed as if he could chase away the blasphemous thoughts with that motion alone.
She never knew your true worth. Not as I do. Not as I have seen. The Emperors voice invaded his mind, no longer hidden behind the female farse it had once been. He almost wished the Illithid had continued the ruse...if only so he could pretend they were something else
An unreasonable fury struck him suddenly as he was reminded of the pretense, the trick played upon him, and he reached for his pack where it lay nearby. He took out the astral-touched tadpole he'd been given and glared down at it as it lay in his hand. He'd been tempted at first by the offer he'd been given...but he'd turned it down at the urging of Lae'zel...and his own fears of what it could do to him if he accepted. What it could mean for his immortal self...and his faith.
Did that really matter now?
Angry at his own continued self-doubts he threw the tadpole into the bowl and held the knife over it. Would this be enough? Would this thing...this power sacrificed to her be enough to make her care at last?
How much more will you give to her that could be yours? How much more will you let her take from you?
He hesitated and the inner struggle played out upon his face in a shifting array of emotions.
You are beautiful...and you can be even more, if you would but let yourself accept it.
His hand shook where it still held the knife, "...but at what cost?"
Nothing more than you have already given...but what you will gain...
The tadpole in his head gave a pleasant pulsing tingle in his mind like it did when he used its powers and he shuddered. His goddess may not have chosen him...but he had been chosen by something...
He was tired of giving...
He reached out and his mind connected with the tadpole.
Lae'zel had only moments to react as she realized what he was doing, before the effects on Divimar's mind echoed through the minds of all those infected within the camp.
"NO!" She cried out and dove forward knowing already that she could not stop what was already happening or what was about to happen, but catching him, cradling him against herself protectively as he fell backward. He dropped the knife to clatter across the ground forgotten and one leg kicked out, throwing the bowl from its perch. The delicate stone of the bowl hit the unforgiving rock upon which their campsite was built and cracked down the middle.
There was movement outside of the tent and the flap flew open.
"Is he--?!" Astarion's voice began to ask, his face creased in anxiety as he peered into the tents gloom.
Lae'zel twisted around, eyes wide and expression almost feral in her fury, "Tsk'va! Get out!!" She hissed and bared her sharp teeth in a snarl.
The vampire's hands flew up defensively and he backed out though she could tell that he, as well as the others, were just outside. They were worried and they had every right to be...but she knew how seriously Divimar took his privacy, particularly when it came to his naked flesh. The many scars upon it that the others could not even begin to be able to understand or appreciate in the beauty of its complexity and the strength it showed of his spirit.
She growled her annoyance but when she turned back to the man held in her arms her expression grew soft. Never did she think she could feel this way for someone...not so long ago she had even held a dagger to his throat for fear of the very thing she thought now must be happening, but not now. The very thought of cutting his throat, even to spare him, was like driving one into her own heart.
She wanted desperately to believe she would not have to.
So, she simply held him as his body twitched and convulsed through the first stage of the transformation that, until now, had all been spared. His dark skin, almost as black as the bowl he'd broken, gained an ashy pallor and sweat broke out across his body. She put a hand to one side of his face, caressing across the scar he hid under the fringe of his white hair, ignoring the empty socket that should have held his right eye.
His left eye fluttered and he managed to focus on her briefly, "...Lae'zel...?"
She huffed, "Foolish istyk..." she hissed with false aggravation, unable to keep the edge of affection out of her tone.
"Forgive me-" He managed to choke out through an uncooperative mouth, his face saddened as he realized that the Illithid had been wrong. His choice could cost him the only thing he'd ever really cared about.
It could cost him Lae'zel.
She made a sharp tsking noise and gave a sharp shake of her head as she often did when something annoyed her, but she didn't let him go or leave him alone. Instead, she held him tighter.
Suddenly everything stopped and he felt his sense of the tadpole within him expanding and his thoughts clearing and expanding along with it. It was becoming a part of him in a way it hadn't been before.
His body grew still and relaxed and Lae'zel looked down and could only watch, helpless, as the pupil of his eye dilated until it eclipsed the bright ruby red she was used to seeing. His veins darkened, looking black and stark under his skin and she felt a creeping dread as she realized that it was over...and wondered too if she had lost him as she had feared she would. The Illithid had said it would trigger the tadpole's next stage of life...and she knew well what that entailed...and if that was so...how could she not? How could the Divimar she knew...possibly survive it as The Emperor had promised he would?
For a long moment Divimar felt lost in the moment and the sensations within his mind as it opened up in ways he never could have imagined, and then his gaze shifted and found hers.
His tadpole connected with hers and this time she didn't resist it. This time she let him pull her into his thoughts and him into hers. His memories played past her, and she realized she had not lost him.
...or at the least, his tadpole had absorbed so much of him that they had become one and the same. Indistinguishable.
She let out a sigh and pressed her forehead against his as his arms came up to hold her against him.
Only time would tell if it was enough...but for now...they still had each other and that was enough.
For now.