Work Text:
The high society of Baldur's Gate had its own kind of dance, and Rolan found that the steps came quite naturally to him.
He had always been made for nights like these: the main floor of Ramazith’s Tower filled with lords and ladies of the partriar families, a sea of color and chatter and pure power in one room. All of them here at his invitation.
Rolan had scarcely gotten a moment alone the entire evening. He’d expected curiosity about the new Master of the Tower, but the sheer quantity of it took him aback.
For all their influence across Baldur’s Gate and beyond, it had come as a surprise just how little these people knew about Ramazith’s Tower and its various inhabitants. Evidently many wizards were territorial creatures who hoarded their lives and their knowledge far away from prying eyes. His previous master certainly had been—even with his own student. Ramazith’s reputation was even worse somehow.
It was a legacy Rolan had no interest in continuing. Knowledge had its own kind of magic; when shared, it only multiplied. To his mind, it was also a misstep to ignore the influence that came along with the role of archwizard. He had just as much of a role in Baldurian politics as he would have to research and educate in the arcane.
Once the dust settled after the great battle for Baldur’s Gate, Rolan put his plans into action. Tonight was the first step toward change. Gathering the high families, opening up the Tower to those outside the magical arts—it was at least a start.
Yet even Rolan found himself tiring of it all after several hours of introductions and political discussions. He had retreated with wine in hand to watch the fete continue from the upper mezzanine. There was only one person left in the room who he really wished to speak with, and he found it challenging to get the timing right.
For the umpteenth time this evening, Rolan found himself searching the floor for Tav. Even in this sea of people her figure drew his eyes as if she had him enchanted.
After months of only knowing her dressed for combat, it was unexpectedly charming to see her dressed in finery. It suited her. Her dress was cut in a simple but elegant shape, with a high neckline that flowed all the way down to the hem brushing the tops of her feet.
The dramatic detail was in the back: a large keyhole opening which displayed a very generous glimpse of skin from her shoulder blades down to the curve of her lower back.
Rolan found himself continuously distracted by that patch of bare flesh. Throughout the evening, occasionally in the middle of conversation with a council member, his eyes had been drawn to Tav from across the room. He felt it every time she turned her back to him, and he wondered whether she had any idea what she was doing.
But she was in even higher demand than himself this evening. Unsurprising to anyone who knew her role in saving their city from the precipice of disaster. So far he’d only managed to exchange a few glances with her from across the room, though each time she had offered him a warm smile.
Rolan’s fingers nervously adjusted his own lapel. He’d changed his dress for the evening as well; his new robes were light, fine silk stitched with gold trim. Fitting attire for his new station in life.
It was an odd sensation to finally be free of the metal apprentice’s mantel that used to rest over his shoulders. He felt lighter, less encumbered—and strangely exposed because of it.
“Itchy, right?”
Cal appeared at his shoulder, tugging on the collar of his own dress tunic. He must have interpreted Rolan’s fussing as discomfort rather than nerves. A misunderstanding Rolan was content to let him continue in.
“Enjoying yourself?” Rolan asked dryly. From Cal’s squirming, he’d already guessed the answer.
“Hardly,” Cal muttered. He gave up with his shirt and took a long drink from his goblet instead. “I barely know any of these people. Well, there’s Alfie, but she told me off for trying to talk to her.”
Rolan glanced to the small platform along the far wall below. Alfira had been almost unbearably gleeful when he’d asked to hire her musical talents for this evening. But to her credit, Rolan had to admit that she was the picture of professionalism where she stood. The gentle stylings of her lute floated to fill the spacious room around them.
“Of course she did,” Rolan told his brother. “Tonight’s important for her too, you know. Rich people always have children who need music lessons.”
Cal let out a sigh. “I guess. It’s just weird having things change so much. Tav’s still okay, though,” he added.
To Rolan’s annoyance, his brother prodded an elbow into his side. “She looks nice, right?”
“Fine. Quit it—” Rolan shooed the arm away with an irritable hand.
“Have you talked to her yet?”
“Too busy,” Rolan replied. It wasn’t quite a lie. Despite himself, he cast another glance around the faces below. Tav’s was currently absent from the crowd—he hoped she hadn’t left for the night.
“Sure,” Cal replied knowingly from beside him. But he only drained the last of his wine and turned to leave. “Just don’t wait too long, yeah? You might be busy forever.”
Rolan didn’t deign that with a response as the younger man made his way back down to the party. Cal was right, and he found there was an anxious buzzing between his ears because of it. With Tav currently nowhere to be found, Rolan decided it may be best to gather his head while he could.
Quietly enough to not attract attention, he slipped up the stairs and out onto the wide circular balcony. A welcome breeze ruffled through his clothing as he stepped out into the starry evening. Passing through the vaulted doorway was like entering a connected but distinct new realm; the sea of voices behind him faded to a soft hum. Only Alfira’s music carried clearly outdoors and into the night.
Rolan leaned his free hand on the cool stone railing. The peaceful air soothed his mind—he hadn’t realized that a headache had been steadily building behind his skull from hours in a room full of echoing voices. He let out a sigh of relief.
“Thanks for the invite tonight.”
Just as he’d relaxed, Tav’s voice made Rolan start. He finally caught sight of her leaning against a stone pillar to his right—her dark gown must have camouflaged her. Rolan hoped the low light had made his fluster just as unnoticeable.
Gathering himself, he lifted his wine in her direction. “I’d be remiss to leave out the hero of Baldur’s Gate from such an event.”
Tav pulled a face at the name, but she approached with her own goblet in hand to join him at the railing. “Don’t you start,” she warned playfully. “I got enough of that inside. Had to come out here for a rest from it.”
“Not much I can do to help on that score, I’m afraid. A lot of people will be grateful to you for a long time.” Rolan watched as she settled beside him, then turned with her to look down at the cityscape below.
From this height, the lamp flames formed strings of luminous pearls through the streets and alleys of the city. A flock of distant white sails waved in the harbor; trade ships waiting like slumbering giants for the return of first light.
“Nice view,” Tav remarked in approval.
Rolan glanced sideways at her face. For one insane moment, he considered parrying that into a compliment on her appearance. She certainly deserved one tonight. But he maintained his grip on sanity, and resisted.
“So—” Tav tilted her head to meet his eye. “How’s life in the Upper City?”
Rolan knew Tav’s expressions well enough by now to suspect she was teasing a bit. “Busy,” he answered truthfully. “So much more than I expected.”
“Everyone’s certainly curious about you,” she agreed. “If there’s one thing lords and ladies can’t resist, it’s a new face in society. This was genius, by the way—” Tav gestured her wine glass back at the gathering inside.
“Is it?” Rolan was skeptical. “It seems like the obvious move to me.”
Tav grinned at him. “That’s what makes it so genius.”
The conversation lulled for a moment as they stood looking out over the quiet city. Rolan found that his initial nerves at being alone with her like this were melting away. Speaking with Tav was comfortable; even silence with her was comfortable somehow. Rolan was the first to break it.
“What about you? What will you do now?”
She sighed down at the view below. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’d like to stay in Baldur’s Gate if I can. Too many friends here to think about leaving.”
During the pause that followed, Rolan wondered if she counted him among them. He found it was very important to him that she did. Before he could decide whether to ask, Tav continued.
“I did get a few promising job offers tonight, if you can believe it. Including one from Lord Jannath to join his private council. Or maybe that was a euphemism,” she added.
“He’s a cad,” Rolan said immediately.
“Oh, I’m well aware of Raylen Jannath’s reputation. And I’m sure it’s entirely deserved.” Tav looked over at him with a glint in her eye. “Don’t worry. I’m no wide-eyed babe.”
“No, you’re not,” Rolan agreed. His jaw clenched with annoyance nevertheless. “But you care about doing good. Some people will always try to take advantage of that.”
“I’ll just refer them to my friend the powerful archwizard, shall I?”
Rolan exhaled a sharp breath of laughter and tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped at her choice of words.
“You’re always welcome in this tower,” he told her. “If nothing else, I hope you know that.”
Tav regarded him for a moment. The hand holding her goblet swirled the liquid inside in a thoughtful motion. “You’ve changed a lot, you know.”
He was curious what made her say such a thing. “Have I?”
“Sure you have.” Tav’s eyes still moved pensively over his face. “Back when we first met, you didn’t seem…” She searched for the word. “Well. Interested in most of the others from Elturel. And now look at the community you’ve built. Alfira tonight, helping Dannis and Bex get their teashop funded. Even Dammon says you gave him an open contract for any metalwork anywhere in the whole Tower.”
“You’ve been talking with Lia too much.” Rolan heard the defensiveness in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. Something about the way Tav was looking at him made his face warm.
“I’m just saying it’s nice,” she finished with a gentle smile. “I always thought you had a bigger heart than you let on.”
“Yes, yes,” Rolan drawled as he raised his goblet. Tav gave thought to his heart—that revelation required wine.
“Remember that night at the Grove?”
Rolan looked at her over the edge of his cup. “That party at your camp, you mean?”
So casual, so unpracticed—as if he didn’t think of that night often.
“Alfira played this song,” she continued.
Rolan had to pause for a moment to focus on the melody floating out to where they stood. When his ear caught the tune, he shifted on his feet. “Ah.”
He knew where she was going with this, but Tav still went on. “Danis and Bex started pairing people up, and I’d already had far too much wine…so I went on and asked you for a dance. Remember?”
“Yes.” Rolan felt a sudden urge to hang his head.
Tav’s eyes were shining with amusement. She gestured her glass toward him in an expectant motion, as if giving him his cue. Rolan let out a very reluctant sigh.
“And I told you I wouldn’t be caught dead dancing in such an uncivilized place,” he finished.
“I believe the term you used was ‘common,’” she chuckled. “You always did have a way with words.” But then she glanced down to the drink between her hands. “Actually…it was a bit disappointing at the time.”
Rolan’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
Tav looked back up at him as though he’d grown another pair of horns. “Because I wanted to dance with you, Rolan. Why else?” She shook her head as she turned back to the view. “Wizards, I swear…not everything is a riddle.”
Rolan considered her words, considered Tav where she stood beside him. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were reaching for the wine glass in her near hand. She allowed him to pluck it carefully from her grip; her face was a mask of puzzlement as she watched him set their drinks aside on the flat of the stone railing.
Rolan turned back to her. “Let me make it up to you, then.” He extended a hand toward her palm-up.
Tav cocked her head at him. The corners of her mouth twitched as if she thought this might be some kind of joke. For a moment Rolan felt every bit the fool, standing here with his empty hand outstretched.
Then her fingers raised to brush across his. “Deal.”
He almost certainly had this backwards—weren’t the hands supposed to be the other way around? But there was no time to think about that now.
Tav took a step closer, her long skirt swinging against his legs. She clasped Rolan’s forearm where it hung at his side, guided it around behind her waist, and then laid her other hand against his shoulder.
The cutout in the back of her dress resulted in Rolan’s skin meeting hers a second time. His mind had somehow neglected to prepare for that; for a few seconds it took all of his concentration to keep his movements smooth and controlled.
Tav began swaying in time with the distant music, just a gentle step side to side and back again. Rolan followed her lead.
“Is this right?” Tav asked. With her face upturned to him under starlight, she looked somehow younger than her years and experience.
“I don’t know,” Rolan admitted. His head was too full of other things—the softness of Tav’s hand in his, the disorienting curve of her back under his palm, not to mention trying like hells not to step on her. “I’ve honestly never done this before.”
“Oh, come on.” Tav’s expression relaxed again as they swayed back and forth together. “No sweethearts back in Elturel? I find that hard to believe.”
When was the last time you touched someone like this? Unwelcome, embarrassing, the thought nevertheless sprang to Rolan’s mind. It was certainly longer ago than he cared to admit. Then again, maybe he’d never touched someone quite like this.
“No one like you,” he decided.
At that Tav only chewed the inside of her lip and gave a thoughtful hum. Whether she sensed his discomfort or whether he’d embarrassed her himself, she didn’t ask for details. He was relieved as the subject drifted away, replaced by the distant lute song and the soft rustle of her skirt as they moved.
After another quiet moment, he felt compelled to speak up again. “You were right before, you know. I have changed.”
“Oh?” Tav looked up at him with curiosity. But she waited patiently for him to continue. Rolan was grateful for it; finding the right words took some thought.
“I suppose I've learned that pride and arrogance aren’t the same thing. Lorroakan taught me to see the difference. As did you,” he added. He swallowed against the discomfort of vulnerability. “I was so damn arrogant then…but I wasn't proud of myself. Not really. You helped me find how to be.”
Tav’s eyes moved back and forth between his as she listened. “Then I’m glad for it. You have a lot to be proud of, Rolan.”
An odd mixture of feelings rose in his throat; he felt humbled and pleased with himself all at once. It was impossible to put into words. Rolan only bowed his head slightly to her, and the space between them lapsed into a comfortable silence once more.
After a while, the dance relaxed into something more casual. Alfira’s lute had taken up a different tune back in the main hall. Their steps no longer kept time with the music now, drifting along with each other in a new rhythm instead. Her hand had migrated from the side of his shoulder to let her wrist hang limp by his collar.
As they swayed together in silence, Rolan felt her fingers carding absently through the ends of his hair.
When he caught her eye, Tav’s hand stilled. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he told her. “It’s not unpleasant.”
For some reason that made Tav laugh. “There you go again. ‘Not unpleasant.’ Can’t you just say something’s pleasant and have done with it?”
Though their stance was still a bit awkward, something about having her in his arms made Rolan bold. He looked straight into her face. “Then allow me to try again. You look very beautiful tonight.”
Tav’s lips parted in surprise for a moment. Then she glanced away to the side, and Rolan saw a flush of color rise to her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “So do you. Handsome, that is,” she added in a rush. “Happiness suits you.”
She had a knack for saying the most perceptive things. Right now, finding himself abruptly launched to the peak of his life’s dream, with the people he cared for safe and provided for, Rolan supposed that he was happy. All the more for the person holding his hand.
“Are you happy, Tav?”
She turned back to him slowly. As she did, her fingers happened to brush against his neck again, sending a shiver up Rolan’s spine that had nothing to do with the evening breeze around them.
“I am,” she murmured. “Right now…very.”
For the first time tonight, Rolan became aware of just how near her face was. It was tilted slightly up to meet his, and the angle happened to leave a clear path to her mouth. It would take only the smallest movement to close the distance.
And without thinking—just for once in his life—he did.
As he tilted his head toward her, Rolan felt Tav’s hand curl behind his neck to pull him gently forward. Their lips brushed together soft as a whisper, but the sensation ran through him clear as the ring of a bell. His fingers splayed against the warmth of her lower back, pressing her figure in closer against his own—
“Rolan, we’ve been looking ev—”
The two of them broke apart as if jolted by electricity. Tav wheeled away, face entirely hidden and one hand clasped up to her mouth. Rolan rounded on the doorway.
“What?” He blurted out.
Cal stood there frozen in place, mouth agape, his eyes flicking back and forth between Rolan and Tav. The air between the three of them was filled with enough raw awkwardness as to make Rolan’s skin crawl.
“Nevermind,” Cal said hoarsely. “It’s—they—nevermind.”
He swiftly turned on his heel and retreated without another word, leaving the two of them standing alone again on their balcony.
But the comfortable atmosphere was gone. Rolan had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He squeezed eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing a guttural sound to rise straight from the depths of his chest.
“We’ve been alone out here for half an hour—” A few steps away, Tav’s voice was choked with laughter behind her hand. “And the second we even try to—”
Rolan worked his eyes open to glance at her. Her shoulders were shaking with amusement, causing the end of her statement to dissolve helplessly.
“This isn’t funny,” he told her weakly, even as she turned back to him and wiped tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes.
“No,” she said, biting her lip against a fresh burst of laughter. “It’s absolutely hilarious.”
Rolan passed a hand over his face with a groan. “Once, just once, I wanted things to go right with us.”
Something in the phrase quieted Tav’s laughter. Rolan met her eye then, sure she must see how mortified he was—but found a look of delight spreading across her features.
“Us?” She raised her eyebrows at him with a smile.
Rolan could only let out a defeated sigh. “Do I have to say it?”
Tav tried to look like she was seriously considering things, but she couldn’t quite fight back her smile all the way. “Not tonight,” she allowed. “I think you’ve suffered enough.”
“Thank you,” was all Rolan could say. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs from the most confusing swirl of feelings.
They looked at each other for another long moment, communicating a dozen different things without a word.
“Well…” Tav moved forward once more to loop her arm through his. Close beside him, the starlight shone in her eyes. “Shall we go in then, Rolan?”