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The sunset on the Material Plane was always mesmerizing. Vibrant orange clouds floated on a pink bleeding into a dove grey blue sky. A sight Lae’zel had never paid much attention to before, the crèche she had hatched in had been one of the Tears, sunsets like these had not happened there. Even on her excursions to Toril, she had never thought to stop and properly absorb the differences between here and her home in K’liir. There had been no need, it hadn’t been necessary and she had rid herself of any whimsical motions long before the crèche commander had cleared her for outside missions with other warriors. Sentimentalities such as enjoying a brief respite, a rest in the journey, would have only gotten her killed back then. At least, that had been what she had been taught according to Vlaakith’s word.
Vlaakith… her queen, the one who used to hold her devotion, her dedication to her training and studies. The saviour and protector of her people against the Illithid schemes. Her head throbbed, the agony from the zaith’isk rearing its sharp toothed head once more. Behind them lay the ruins of the Rosymorn monastery, formerly a temple dedicated to Lathander, and now formerly the crèche Y’llek. Felled by hers and her companions’ hands. Turned on them by the words of the queen. Fury, cold but raging like the inferno the dragons her people breathed, burned in her belly. The weapon her people had been searching for had been the artefact Shadowheart had been holding onto for the whole time… A gith’yanki artefact, belonging to her people, stolen by istiks…
Yet, without it, they’d lose the one protection they had from turning into ghaik. Back at the destroyed bridge, Mifa had quietly and quickly communicated with her not to hand it over. It still surprised Lae’zel how easily she had been convinced not to. And it had proven to have been the correct decision.
Before her, she had known only blood red and death black and the silver of steel. Now… now she saw the facets between, the breathtaking possibilities she had deliberately blinded herself to before. All her life, she had been told she had to give her everything to Vlaakith, that her word was absolute and true. Nothing else mattered but the Queen’s will.
And now… now there was more. There was an ugly truth behind the conviction she had carried within herself all her life. Her focus, razorsharp and honed, was clouded. Kith’rak Voss’ words had unbalanced her, but they had rung true to her. The longer she travelled with this group, the more she learned, especially about herself. Mifa had been the biggest surprise out of all of them. At first she had stamped her as meek, weak-willed and inconsequential… but it had also been the furthest from the truth. A will of silver steel was hidden underneath her smiling face and a fierceness under the gentle touch should she be provoked. It had set her insides alight the day she had seen Mifa cave in that harpy’s head. The splatter of gore and blood had done nothing to dimmish the beauty underneath. One night she hadn’t been able to hold back anymore, the sun had gone down already and most had retreated to their tents to retire for the night. That was when she had approached Mifa, with a proposition on her blunt tongue and burning loins. The same night they had indulged, tasted and devoured the other.
Lae’zel looked up from the fallen tree stump she had spend the last hour sitting on. After they had fled from the crèche, after Kith’rak Voss’ ambush and subsequent talk, she had gone off to meditate somewhere out of sight from the camp. In the air hung the scent of roasted meat, no doubt Gale had started to prepare the dinner from their almost bursting provisions pack. Another thing she had started to appreciate: Faerûn’s food or, in their case, Gale’s cooking. By the time they had reached the grove, Lae’zel had noticed that the others would always sit down to eat dinner. She had understood: bonding with one’s battle companions was essential, encouraged even. However, with them it didn’t come with scarfing down one’s food, getting as much sustenance into one’s system. No, they socialized whilst they ate, any higher purpose starkly absent. At first she had not participated, turning up her nose at – to her meaningless – chatter. Back then, she had thought they’d reach a crèche within the first few days, otherwise they would have long undergone ceremorphosis. There had been no room for failure if she wished to repay her debt to Mifa and ensure her path back to her own people. As soon as their feet touched the material plane, her nice and neat plan fell apart by the seams.
Those same people had turned on her without hesitation. Long ago she would have done the same if she had not been subject to Vlaakith’s condemnation. Weeding out the weak had been a core tenet of her people to be strong enough to face the ghaik. Now she wondered whether some of those had seen beyond the veil and had been eliminated for it.
Voss said he’d wait for them in Baldur’s Gate. Once they had dealt with the threat at Moonrise, and hopefully have rid themselves off the tadpole, she’d go there and –
“There you are,” Mifa’s voice rang out, pulling Lae’zel out of her spiraling musings.
“I was meditating,” Lae’zel stated, almost as if she were offering an excuse, but scooted over a bit to make space for her.
Mifa’s face bore a slight frown, one Lae’zel had never seen ever directed at her before. One of concern. They hadn’t been able to talk alone after their escape, the adrenaline too fresh in their veins to properly sit down and talk, let alone strategise. And she had needed a moment to collect herself, then the Kith’rak had gotten the drop on them, an error born of distraction and turmoil. A misstep she didn’t intend on repeating. Their journey was lethal enough, Lae’zel could not afford to be performing less than her full capabilities. After, her people needed her, the Kith’rak would need her and…
“I can hear the gears in your head whirring from here,” Mifa teased into the ensuing silence. “What’s on your mind?”
That was when Lae’zel realized she had spaced out again, having not noticed that Mifa had sat down next to her. Her hand having been placed gently on top of Lae’zel’s. Instinctively Lae’zel brought their intertwined hands to her lap, brushing the slender pale fingers with her own. A new habit she had never had before with her previous lovers. She hadn’t noticed when it had started, the seeking for tenderness, for yearning for closeness not related to sex. One night, when she had unabashedly grabbed the hand, freely offered and reciprocating, she had halted, realizing what she was doing and why.
“My apologies,” Lae’zel replied then slowly. “I had to clear my head. Is everything well?”
“I feel like it should be me who should ask you this,” Mifa retorted gently as her thumb caressed Lae’zel’s knuckles. “You disappeared as soon as Voss left.”
“As I said, I needed to clear my head,” Lae’zel sighed. “The knowledge that my Queen has lied to everyone, to me, for so long…”
Mifa did not say anything, merely looked at Lae’zel with the softest eyes. There were no words said, but Lae’zel knew that she sympathized with her. Despite the strangeness, the foreign feeling of needing it, one she had thought she had thoroughly annihilated before, Lae’zel leaned into Mifa, putting her head on her shoulder to continue looking at the sunset unfolding before her.
“My one hope to cure us all, the zaith’isk, has proven to be death trap. We still have those parasites in our heads and time is ticking. Despite the artefact, we have to be prepared no matter what.”
“Is this truly what you are worried about?” Mifa asked not concealing the doubt in her voice.
Lae’zel smirked, a brief tug on the corners of her mouth. After such a short time of travelling together, Mifa could read and know her better than anyone who had spend years with her.
“No,” she said simply. “This is not what has my mind in a whirlwind.”
“Do you wish to share?”
Lae’zel hummed, not answering straight away. This upheaval, this turmoil within her was too nebulous to truly grasp, let alone to communicate to Mifa in words that would mean anything. She herself still needed to come to terms with what had happened. And she knew Mifa would be patient, especially for her. With her closeness, Lae’zel closed her eyes clinging to the fading warmth of the day. If there was one thing she could keep after this ordeal was over, was Mifa. After all she had lost today, she did not know whether she could stomach Mifa’s absence in her life. With no anchor left, she was clinging to the cleric who did not push nor prod, and for the first time she felt a sense of peace.
“Not yet, these are things I need to settle for me first, but I promise I will tell you once I have.”
Mifa nodded, seemingly content with the answer she had been given. Silence reigned between them for a while until Lae’zel had gathered enough will to face her lover, the one who had stood behind her without question. Sitting up straight, she turned to Mifa, the hand in her lap lifted up to cup Mifa’s cheek. The skin was smooth and warm, the memories of nights past flitted to the forefront, but Lae’zel pushed them down to focus on the here, what she had now in the palm of her hand. What they had was precious, beautiful and in need to be treasured that went beyond the pleasures of the flesh.
And she wanted it all. Vlaakith’s commands had denied it to her. With her betrayal, yes, that was what it was, her Queen’s betrayal, she would grasp what she had denied herself before. Without hesitation and without regrets. That she vowed.
As she held Mifa’s face with as much tenderness as she could, Mifa leaned down to press her forehead against Lae’zel’s. Their breath intermingled and Mifa’s hand rose to brush over Lae’zel’s sensitive ear ridges.
“Whatever happens and lies before us,” Mifa spoke then, “I will be by your side, moonmaiden be my witness.”
Lae’zel could not help but smile. Slowly she kissed her love, pouring every fibre of her yearning into it. As they parted, a string of saliva connected them briefly.
After a brief pause, Lae’zel finally said what had been weighing on her tongue, “I wish to be by your side always, to count my days with yours as numerous and that we never are to be parted.”
Mifa’s smile broke through like the brilliant sun on a cloudy sky.