Chapter Text
“Release me.”
“No.”
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“Place me on the ground.”
Tav couldn’t say much about her weaknesses, but she excellently knew about her strengths. And she proudly could say she was as patient and unshakable as a mountain. At least in most situations. Her patience was trained through the years of her job to sit in one position for days to prepare a perfect poison, to follow instructions step by step without any hurry, and to keep her hands steady when she wanted to die out of boredom. But today Raphael chose to question her deadly patience.
The same demand was repeated for the last hour of walking. Tav’s mind was already abstracted from this conversation after the first fifteen minutes; she thought about a nice and light breeze on her cheek, about another novel to read, about anything that wasn’t the fox in her hands; only her mouth said ‘no’ without further processing what exactly Raphael had been talking. At this point, he could say any words out loud and the result would be the same.
“No. We both know the moment I put you down you will start crying about your dirty paws.”
He silently looked at the road. Tav believed it was a valid reason for him to shut up.
She regretted swallowing the potion of animal speaking that morning. She wished to be her today’s companions, who didn’t give a shit what her fox said. Lae’zel and Shadowheart were too busy sending each other hatefully lustful gazes, and Astarion never showed any interest in spending his time with Tav’s “rodents”. Neither of them was able to understand animal speech, so they heard only her side of replies. Tav tried to keep her voice no louder than a whisper, to not play (unlike some foxes) on her companions’ nerves. Raphael, knowing that only Tav was able to hear him, preferred to scream in her ear meanwhile.
“You know what, we need to review your diet,” she shifted his weight to her shoulder.
It was a real workout for her muscles. She was sure that the next morning she would not feel her arms, or rather on the contrary, she would feel them too well.
Her back was aching like hell too: Raphael looked like a fox no larger than a small dog, but Tav believed even her owlbear was easier to pick up; his weight was the side effect of the spell, that was Tav’s theory. She looked at Lae’zel’s strong arms with jealousy, but asking githyanki to carry her fox would end up with Laezel’s “chk” and a proposition to turn the animal into a fresh snack. Astarion would approve, and Shadowheart, despite her soft heart, would agree too, because to them the fox was completely useless.
Tav didn’t deny it — Raphael was only a headache. The annoying, frustrating, rude headache she created. But Tav is a professional secret keeper: she will never tell anyone about it, and some secrets she intends to take to her grave.
“Release me.”
“No.”
He started again, and the temptation to simply throw him in the mud only grew. She will laugh, looking at his miserable damp body, and compare him to a wet rat from the ditch. As for someone whose fate was literally in her hands, he liked to play with fire. Wasn’t it a hobby of his to speak in parables? Surely he has the story about an ungrateful fox. Is it that uncomfortable to be in her capable hands? Or is this a question of his wounded pride?
‘It’s okay, Tav, you should be thankful he isn’t in the mood to declare poetry, or worse — to sing’, she silently comforted herself. Puddles underfoot turned the paths into swamps. Her boots were covered in dirt up to her knees and she prayed that they would quickly return to the city, or as Raphael called it, civilization, so she could finally put him down. And why didn't she leave him in the camp in the first place? She swore every goddamn time she would.
No, the main question still was under which circumstances, how and why these two were together.
But answering the previous one: Raphael favored Tav’s company over the camp.
[ “Nah, he’s afraid of Scratch.”
“I am not afraid of your stupid filthy dog!”
“They brawled once. Scratch won. And it was I who had to deal with their wounds after. But it’s still a mystery what they were fighting over.” ]
Even though he is completely useless and often distracting, Raphael tailed Tav everywhere, generously giving his professional opinion about everything.
“Because you, mouse, cannot be trusted with the simplest matters,” he liked to repeat, circling her, or, as Tav called it ‘play predator with his lovely mouse’. “Who knows what stupidity you’ll decide to do next.” Raphael would like to witness her every failure and remind her at every opportunity about what she lost when she single-handedly destroyed their partnership. Tav rolled her eyes.
“Yes, of course, how very unwise of me.”
Then, at the end of the long and tiring (for Tav mostly) day, he would loudly complain about his need for a bath, because, unlike some filthy dogs, he didn’t have a habit of lying in the mud. And Tav had no choice but to play along because the dirt on his paws was also the dirt on her bedroll. She learned it the hard way.
Tav stretched, massaging her numb fingers and wrists out of habit.
“Fine, your Highness, the bath is ready,” she bowed comically to him, pointing to the small wooden tub full of warm water.
‘His Highness!’ Tav silently repeated, unaware how it was fitting to Raphael’s status, but imagining him with a tiny version of the Crown of Karsus on his fox head. She should craft him one! His little consolation prize! ‘ Ha-ha-ha!’ Sweet absurdity of thought plagued her mind. She was choking, trying to fight back a fit of laughter. She felt a dull pain in her left side, but then Raphael did his second favorite thing to destroy her ability to keep calm — he jumped into the water. And the water splashed right in her face.
“Raphael,” she hissed through her teeth, putting a threat in her voice, wiping the drops from her eyes, but he looked at her as innocently as possible, waiting for additional aroma herbs to his bath. At least she stopped dying from laughter.
‘Remember, Tav, he’s just a silly helpless fox.’
Bath time was a period of silent truce between them. A temporary peace offering. That was how Tav wanted to see it.
“If you will beg me, I would consider making you my servant,” he closed his eyes from the pleasant sensation. The water became muddy from the street dust from his fur. “Right after I peel the skin off your fingers and take what is rightfully mine.”
But it’s Raphael we are speaking about.
She took a step back to grab a towel.
“Don't jump out, let me wipe you down–”
And Tav was splashed with water again.
Oh, no — he pretended to be a stupid fox on purpose!
“Aww, Tav! But look at this cute little buddy! I’m sure he didn’t mean to tear your pillow,” Karlach would say, holding him in the ‘air jail’ — the most useful advice she took from Gale.
“It reminds me of the fairy tales my father used to read to me at bedtime,” Wyll smiled, watching with what appetite the fox chewed the meat.
“In those fairy tales nasty foxes also stole your dinner?!” she turned away only for a second and was already robbed! Only miserably small pieces of chopped vegetables were left on her plate to tease her stomach.
“It was rude,” she mumbled under her nose, sending her hungry anger to Raphael, “and unnecessary. Don’t act like I’m forcing you to eat dog food only.”
She worried about his health and well-being! Halsin’s eyes almost started to twitch by her constant asking for tips about fox care. Dog food won't taste so awful if she adds a little salt!
“I’m not your pet, you insolent mouse! Don’t you dare to treat me like a real animal,” he wagged his tail irritably. Tav sighed.
“Of course, you are not, Raphy. ”
But there was one little untold truth that she knew. If after the bath time do not disturb him and leave him alone for a while…
“Tav! Something interesting in the bushes?” Gale’s voice above her head startled her and she nearly jumped.
“Shh!” she hurried to press her finger to his lips to silence him, dragging him down to her hiding spot. Her bright pink eyes were round from sick, almost mad excitement; Gale knew that expression very well — she always has the same look when starts to talk about her books. “Look! Look! He does the thing!” she pointed at the fox like he was a discovery of the century.
Gale wasn’t so impressed.
“Ah, your exhilaration reminds me of the happy days when I only met Tara,” Gale told her with a fond smile. He was so young and full of energy to clap like a child when Tara was so cute while sleeping, or playing, or eating. “But I can assure you, it’s common for animals to lick themselves clean. As long as they don’t cough their furballs back,” he added.
“No, Gale, you don’t get it! Look!” she squeezed his hand, preventing him from moving. Did Gale regret approaching her? Yes. “He likes it!” Tav shook him. “He’s enjoying licking his little foxy paws!”
“S-sure,” he prayed to Mistra to end this suffering before he stopped to feel his arm under Tav’s grip.
Tav continued to watch. Just look at this mister ‘don’t-treat-me-like-an-animal’! Of course, her companions couldn’t understand the importance of this small detail. But to Tav? It was the evidence she would use against him one day. What next? He actually would like to wear a collar? Should she find one in the city with a nameplate and the inscription “If I get lost, return to Tav”? Low dangerous chuckles started to escape her throat again.
“Let her be, mate!” Karlach patted Gale on the shoulder later, when he escaped from their drow. “I never saw her that cheerful before!”
Others could only roll their eyes: Tav was easily impressed by the bright world of the surface, which was so different from her homeland.
“I can object,” Shadowheart said. “Don’t you remember her reaction when Halsin showed her ducklings?”
“Hells, it’s ducklings!” Karlach exclaimed emotionally in her defense.
But their new ‘addition’ caused a shift in their hierarchy: Scratch and the owlbear cub were left without their portion of attention since their new concurrent arrived in Tav’s embrace.
[ “Embrace? That's what you call dragging me around?”
“Shush!” ]
Astarion’s cold dead heart painfully squished at the sight of the lonely dog; Lae’zel’s warrior soul felt a touch of sadness. The owlbear was more independent — friendship with the dog and constant feeding for the cub was more than enough. But Scratch, who was easily attached and needed company, wasn’t so happy. They pitied him, but couldn’t replace his Mistress. Shadowheart often kneeled to pat his head.
“Poor boy.”
But Tav was too busy fussing over the fox as if he was a deity.
“Even her beloved druid did not escape the fate of being replaced. What do you think will happen to you, Shadowheart?” Astarion said smoothly, approaching them from behind and joining their conversation. They glanced to the opposite end of their camp, where the mentioned druid spent his time alone in meditation. From the moment of his rescue, Tav always was somewhere around Halsin, enthusiastically listening to his lectures about the life cycle of forest insects.
“Selûne forbid if she becomes a druid”, it was their biggest nightmare. No, they won’t survive another nature lover. And considering her scientific interest in living beings, Tav could become a natural disaster. They could suspect the fox is her new test subject: her fondness and tenderness were explainable from the point of view of the scientist she was — her ‘lab rat’ needs to be in perfect condition!
“Nope, Soldier is a softie,” Karlach pointed. Tav avoided hurting someone without life-treating necessity. They could collectively agree: Tav with her skills wasn’t naive, but her soul was too contrasting to her origin.
“But I can’t be the only one who thinks it's a little bit…” Gale waved his hand in the air, trying to find a word. “How to say this… unhealthy?”
“Funny to hear it from you,” Astarion crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the wizard with a smirk. “Our biggest cat fan.”
“My Tara is completely different!” Gale said as was expected. “She’s extremely intelligent, smart, helpful–”
“And Tav is discussing ballads with her fox,” Wyll also joined them and recalled his midnight overhearing.
“–which I didn’t do with Tara,” Gale exhaled in defeat.
“But it’s better than her previous hobby of testing poisons on herself, right?” Wyll asked hopefully, eyeing Tav’s attempts to catch her pet. When they first met in the Grove and were heading to find Nettie for help, the druid almost fainted how casually Tav swallowed wyvern poison in front of her. “I don’t think it can kill me,” she said with the same intonation like she was discussing the weather outside. “Do you have something more fatal? I would craft one, but I don’t have my equipment with me.” Not only was she a drow with eyes that symbolized her loyalty to Lolth, but after that, she became a living horror. “She’s out of her mind,” “As expected from a drow,” druids whispered. But Tav wasn’t upset by their terrible words: she was satisfied that no one bothered her.
“Don’t remind me,” Astarion frowned his nose, “she completely spoiled the flavor of her blood! She tastes awful, just like Gale.”
“Every hobby is allowed as long as we don’t need to use resurrection scrolls,” Shadowheart answered. And Tav acted like she was well versed in medicine to know the line between “for my immunity” and “certain death”. Halsin taught her the recipe of a healing potion to be sure.
“But let’s not make a “help every stray” into our dear deadly poisonous Menzoberranzan flower’s occupation,” Astarion said, but Shadowheart was quick to show the difference in their opinions.
“Oh, would you prefer if she made sacrifices to the Queen of Spiders?”
“Why are you gathering here?” they turned their heads in unison, frozen like truant children. Tav stared at them intensively, burying them under the gaze of her glowing pink eyes. Her face and voice were emotionless; she held the fox in the iron grip, ignoring the animal’s attempts to break free. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing, dear.”
Her companions hastened to disperse.
_ _ _
“Not now, Raphael.”
“I didn’t say anything, mouse,” he sounded too satisfied.
“And I don’t want to hear it either.”
She knelt near the chest and put him down. Tav focused her attention on the countless treasures she kept inside, pressing her lips into a thin line.
“Hear what? What do your friends think of you?” She ignored him, taking out empty bottles from the chest, but her silence encouraged him to continue. “The mouse wished to live among the crows, but only found pain in their claws.”
Someone was in the mood for rhymes again.
“You have a thing for claws, don’t you?” she stifled a laugh inside, but maybe it wasn’t the best moment to discuss the devil’s kinks. “Anyways, they are not my friends,” she felt the urge to explain. ‘Friends’ is a word too strong, too powerful to use in their situation. Tav wasn’t delusional: they forget each other as soon as the adventure is over. “We are allies. The same goal, but nothing else.”
They were rather unfortunate coworkers, but she wouldn’t mind, if someone decided to keep in touch with her later. She won’t deny, she would need useful acquaintances.
“Yes, and their words don’t bother you in the slightest.”
She almost fell back, dropping the giant ax down, and continued her searches in the chest.
“I’m not upset, Astarion is always like that,” Tav murmured, but Raphael had enough time to observe her expression to be sure — she lied. “Zevlor was nice to me and needed my help! I did as any good person would! Astarion was too enthusiastic about gutting the goblins to still complain,” she tossed a pile of swords aside a little loudly. “Besides, I did most of the work myself.”
Ah, yes, Raphael remembered his amusement when he was reading Korilla’s report. She described in great detail how elegantly Tav put poison in goblins' drinks, leaving them without a chance to escape their death, and stood between their corpses like a reaper among mortals.
[ “Korilla? Sounds more like a poetic retelling of Volo’s story.” ]
Tav watched their convulsions. It was quite a sight, but a sight that was not at all pleasing. She used the most merciful poison she could create to give them a peaceful, sleep-like ending; but death can seldom be made so.
“You were successful in defeating goblins leaders, indeed,” he nodded, but his sharp eyes were locked on her fingers, on the smallest uncontrollable movements of her hands that always told Raphael about her true feelings. “But that drow... How was her name again?” as he expected, she began to rub her phalanges. “What a loss you couldn't convince her to join you.” Tav flinched, probably remembering her failure. Oh, her pink eyes began to look duller! He needs to say only one phrase to crack that shell of the secret. “But pray tell me: what mystery happened behind closed doors?”
Their gazes clashed and their game of who will lose faster began.
One, two, three…
“Careful, Raphael, curiosity killed the cat,” she opened her mouth.
Four, five, six…
“But thanks to someone I am a fox.”
Seven, eight, nine…
“And foxes, unlike cats, have only one life. Are you sure you wanna use yours for the answer?”
Ten.
“Another story for another day,” he turned his head away. But he didn’t lose: just delayed his victory for the future.
Meanwhile, the pile of very ‘valuable’ items grew around them. Raphael didn’t want to know how deep that chest was inside, but when Tav started to mumble, he gave up.
“What are you looking for?”
“A brain in a jar,” Raphael wasn’t surprised. “Did you happen to see where I put it?” she asked.
“The same you keep in your tent?”
“No, it’s another one.”
He held his tongue in time not to ask how many brains she kept in jars! But given her collection of found skulls… Perhaps, Raphael had a point: she’s a mouse that drags everything to her burrow.
“I think I accidentally sold it”, she concluded, putting back all of her garbage to the chest. Tav walked back toward her tent, and Raphael kept up, stepping smoothly behind her.
“Who even needs a brain? And how could you sell it by accident?”
“In case you forgot, I am a drow,” she pointed at her dark gray skin. “This means people will buy anything from me out of fear.”
“How useful.” Tav would call it rather situational. “Especially when your companions believe you worship Lolth.”
Tav turned her head towards him more as a reaction to him saying the name of the goddess.
“They didn’t question Shadowheart and her devotion to Shar, so why would they be interested in my religion?” she shrugged her shoulders. Her tent was placed at a far distance from the others, giving her privacy that looked more like isolation.
Maybe Raphael’s love for cleanliness had some positivity, but not when his scrutinizing gaze was directed at her personal space. The epitome of chaos was somewhat combined with strict order: yes, she had a jar of brains among her items and some mess was better unpacked, but all of her bottles with potions, books, herbs and knives were perfectly organized.
But the bottles were never signed: Tav did not need to give someone that advantage over her domain — she always could easily tell by the look (and taste) where was which one. May the gods protect those fools who would try to touch her shelves: Raphael didn’t risk his life to go near her vials, but look carefully at them — among the bottles was a promised potion that could transform him back.
He chose a corner with the Orphic Hammer as his usual spot, safely guarding the weapon from Tav’s hands.
“I hope you are not lying down on my black shirt.”
“Hope is such an illusory thing, mouse.”
“It’s not funny, all of my clothes are in your fur! At this rate, you'll be bald!”
She turned away, but he knew what to expect. And why, of all possible people, was he stuck with her? Tav imagined Raphael without his perfectly coiffed chestnut hair. Laughter always prevailed over her when night fell under the rule of Shar. She clutched the amulet to her chest until the fit passed.
“Are you finished?” he asked in boredom, used to her behavior by now.
“We need to brush you,” her voice became deadly serious. “Baths aren't helping much, and I don't want to wake up with your fur in my mouth.”
“Sounds like not my concern. You wouldn’t dare,” he looked at her and felt shivers on his spine: she held the old brush. “You will regret it, mouse.”
His suddenly awakened animal instincts screamed to run.
“Stop running away! You won't die if I brush you once, you fox-brained devil!”
But her eyes shone too ominously and malevolently for him to stop.
In the end, she won the battle; Raphael fought for his life and left her with a few painful scratches, and the whole camp was turned upside down. But no one interfered in her chasing.
“Remind me next time to trim your claws too!”
She was proud she caught him without using paralyzers.
Raphael regretted that Tav had not killed him yet.
“Stop it! Do you have at least a concept in your damaged brain about how to comb out the animals?!”
“It cannot be that difficult! Now stop moving, I’m almost finished with this side!”
Maybe Tav should have asked Halsin for more advice. Or at least stop combing Raphael against fur. But to be honest, Raphael with his attempts to run away only hurt himself more.
It was inevitable. And he warned that she would regret it. But it was something that was bound to happen sooner or later.
He bit her.
“Ouch! Raphael, that’s enough!” she yelped, raising her voice for the first time. The bite was shallow, but she pressed her injured hand to her chest. “This has gone too far!”
She is going to ask Karlach to hold him in the air jail for three days! No, for a whole week! But he did it! Raphael successfully destroyed her walls of patience!
And because of this, Tav didn’t notice the glances of her companions until it was too late.
“Hold a moment, Tav, how did you just call him?!”