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The sewers reek.
As a result, the party reeks, too.
They are here looking for the trail of Orin the Red and Halsin. Lae’zel doubts they will find that trail today—a run-in with Zhentarim thieves, attacks from Bhaal’s cultists, and a bizarre encounter with a mage and his grease elementals have delayed the search considerably. All of them are filthy, soaked to the knees with water and smeared in grease and blood. Two more hours, and they will return to the surface to try again tomorrow.
For now, though, they are resting in a damp alcove above the algae-crusted waterline. A single dim lantern provides just enough light to see. Jaheira is cleaning her weapons, serene and methodical. Karlach is sleeping off a particularly violent rage, engine flaring red-hot with every breath. Tav and Lae’zel sit a respectable distance apart, shoulder to shoulder.
This very morning before their departure, Lae’zel brought Tav up to the roof of the tavern to watch the sunrise. She had finally confessed her feelings, in what words she could manage. Tav had promised to stay with Lae’zel for good, when all this is ended. The thought of that has made this disgusting trip through the sewers almost cheerful for Lae’zel.
Tav kissed her in public three times before they even made it to the manhole cover. At the breakfast table. On the stairs going down. In the middle of the street. Every time with a quietly giddy smile that echoed how Lae’zel feels in her heart. She never thought she would want to have such public affection before.
Now here she is holding Tav’s hand in full view of their companions.
They ate their rations—vastly improved from those Lae’zel grew used to in the wilderness—in comfortable silence. Tav, dirt smeared on her face and hair falling down from its braids, keeps looking at Lae’zel and smiling. Every time, Lae’zel smiles back. Her heart is as light as the gulls flying over the harbor in the sunrise.
“I’m glad you spoke up this morning,” Tav says, shifting to sit as close as possible to Lae’zel. Their armor clatters softly together. A familiar sound, almost a comfort to Lae’zel now.
“As am I,” Lae’zel says. She stops for a moment, gathering her words. Something has been itching at her since they climbed off the roof and the golden glow of the moment faded. “My joy…I must know. Would you have ever spoken up, if I did not?”
Tav is silent for a long moment. Her brow is furrowed. The tip of her tail switches back and forth a little, a clear sign of thinking. “No,” she says at last. “I wouldn’t have. I never wanted to press you. Not that I didn’t want…for good. But if you hadn’t spoken up, I would have carried on as we were and been happy.”
Lae’zel nods. She can accept that. Even so… “Why would you wait?” she asks. “I was—am—pushy. Rude. Stubborn. I know that our companions have called me mean. I insult people easily. I am violent in a way that no one else here is. Why would you wait so long, with no hope that I would speak my heart?”
“Oh, Lae’zel.” Tav wraps her arm around Lae’zel’s shoulder, drawing her close. “I don’t see that. I swear.”
“Then what do you see?”
“I see determination that lets you stand up to Vlaakith or face a ghaik head on without a flinch. You never gave up, even with a tadpole in your head and no cure to be found. I see honesty and sincerity with everyone, even yourself. Even when the truth is painful. I see focus, never losing sight of your goals. Making sure that the rest of us don’t forget, either.” Tav kisses Lae’zel’s forehead gently. “Sometimes the words do come out sharp. I don’t mind. I’ve learned to hear your meaning.”
“And the insults?”
“It’s been a long time since you called anyone in this group anything worse than ‘fool,’ love.”
Lae’zel reflects on that for a moment. Yes, that is true. She has come to care for them all far too much. They are strong, cunning companions, and insults would be a disservice.
Before she can say anything, Tav speaks again. “You bring me joy. Fighting beside you. The stories you tell. How loyal you are. How silly you are sometimes.”
“Silly?” Lae’zel demands.
Tav’s eyes sparkle. “You got excited about a pigeon army. Remember?”
Lae’zel does remember. General Lightfeather was an admirable creature. “They were worthy pigeons,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Even birds can be brave.”
Tav’s smile is so sweet and fond that Lae’zel must smile back. “They can.” She brushes the tip of her nose against Lae’zel’s. “You make me brave, you know. So many times I think I would have turned around if you weren’t there. From the moment I saw you on the nautiloid…”
Lae’zel raises a brow. “I tried to kill you.”
“You thought I was a thrall,” Tav points out. “If I was, you’d have been damn right to cut me in half.”
“I am glad you acknowledge that,” Lae’zel says dryly.
“But you didn’t kill me,” Tav says. “You told me what was happening. You showed me the way to the helm. You fought side by side with an istik as equals.”
“It was for our survival.”
“I know,” Tav says. “I was about ready to give up when you found me, Lae’zel. I was terrified. I was alone. In a nightmare where everything was trying to kill me. Then…there you were. And you stayed, even when no one would have blamed you for going on your own to look for your people. You stayed and protected us.”
“I did,” Lae’zel says. She still does not fully understand why, but…
“You protected me,” Tav says. Her voice is soft enough that Lae’zel has to lean closer to hear her properly. “I always protected other people. No one really protected me. Until you.”
As gently as she can, Lae’zel cups Tav’s cheek. “I will go on protecting you. With both word and sword.”
“I know you will,” Tav says. She turns her head to kiss Lae’zel’s palm. “Be blunt with me. Let me see your delight in a battle. Push me to be my strongest self. Scowl as much as you damn well please. Call me names when you’re angry.”
Utterly lost for words, Lae’zel brushes her thumb over Tav’s lips.
“But don’t hide from me,” Tav says. Her eyes glow like twin stars. Lae’zel gazes into them, too enchanted to move. “Your rage. Your joy. All of your colors.”
“I will not hide,” Lae’zel whispers. “Not from you.”
Tav embraces Lae’zel fully, then, in spite of the slime all over Lae’zel’s armor. Lae’zel rests her head on Tav’s broad chest. She closes her eyes. They do not have to leave yet.
“And besides,” Tav says, quiet enough that only Lae’zel will hear, “I spoke wrongly. I wasn’t really waiting. You were already there.”