Work Text:
Breathe in…
Shadowheart closed her eyes. The birds had begun their dawn chorus an hour ago, and she could feel the breeze tug on her hair as it meandered its way through the trees, who whispered and rustled to each other as the rest of nature woke up around them.
Breathe out…
Shadowheart opened her eyes. The horizon was turning a deep, blazing orange. The first rays of the sun were clawing their way up the sky and flooding their little clearing with their gentle warmth.
Scratch yawned from beside her and laid his head back into her lap, his tail gently thumping the ground. He was worn out from when the owlbear had visited yesterday. The cub they had rescued was all grown up and moved on. But they made their nest nearby with their mate, and would visit often to see their “brother.” The dog for his part, did not care for the size difference, and the two would play just like old times.
Breathe in…
Shadowheart followed the rhythm of in and out. In time with the breeze, in time with her father- Arnell beside her. Even her rampant thoughts could not break the pattern.
It was a routine the two of them had developed not long after they had made their home out here. Every few days, whenever the weather was acceptable, they would rise early, and greet the dawn together. They did not often speak much to each other during this time. But words were unnecessary, Shadowheart spent each moment treasuring the company and acknowledging each and every second of hard won peace.
Breathe out…
Shadowheart was no stranger to routine. In another place… in another life, she had woken much the same. Yet instead of checking on her mother, and making her a tea with medical herbs to help her aging body, she would torture her. Unknowingly of course. Shadowheart’s mind was not her own back then, but she still couldn’t forgive herself for those actions. Both her parents had told her again and again that she was not to blame, that Shar had taken her memories, and her free will along with them.
Isha was perhaps the only one that understood. As she too, had been robbed of her own mind, her own innocence. She would not tell Shadowheart that it was not her fault, she would not insist that she was not to blame. For she couldn’t forgive herself either. Instead their hands would gently curl together, hands that had been forced by others, yet stained all the same.
Breathe in…
But they had broken the shackles that bound them, beaten the very gods that thought they owned them. In shadow and blood they had been forged. But they had cast themselves anew. Who they were now, was their victory, and for once, their victory alone.
Breathe out…
Scratch lifting his tired head was the only warning that they were no longer alone. Shadowheart looked up, and her mouth went slightly dry.
Isha was standing in the doorway of their humble cottage that they had built, a tray clutched in her hands. There was a smudge of dirt rubbed across her cheek, partially obscuring the scar that carved its way from her eye, suggesting she had already done the day’s weeding in their garden. Her hair was loose, blowing in the wind and flashing a bright orange and silver in the early sunlight. Shadowheart always felt surprised to see her lover dressed in anything other than her armour, even though she had barely donned it in over a year. But to see Isha in a simple tunic and leggings, bereft of anything protective, was a sight to behold. She had closed her eyes, and had turned her face to meet the sun, bathing in its warmth.
Shadowheart found herself smiling at the sight. Had her sunflower not followed her back into the arms of Selûne, it was likely that Lathander would have taken notice of her. Of that, Shadowheart had little doubt. Perhaps he had regardless.
Isha struggled with the concept of giving herself to another deity again, even one that had never left her, even as another, more malevolent force claimed her. But the goddess had proved herself nothing if not understanding for the both of them, and Shadowheart knew in her heart that she was safeguarding Isha's soul after it had been abandoned by her immortal father.
Isha wasn't rejecting the patronage outright however. A month after Shadowheart started to embrace Selûne, Isha had snuck away one night with Isobel and had returned the next morning with a number of strands of her copper hair shining silver, dyed in the essence of a small moonstone.
Shadowheart liked that Isha hadn’t turned it all silver. In her opinion, the most valuable thing Isha had won in their ill fated adventure was… herself. Isha didn’t have to give that away. Who she was now, she didn’t owe to anyone. What silver she did have in her hair, was a show of thanks to the one goddess that had genuinely supported them throughout their journey. The rest, and the fact that it still grew upon her head, was a testament to her ability to face the odds, and to drag everyone else around into the light with her.
Isha walked down the pathway from the door towards them, her movements completely silent save for the gentle rattling of the simple ceramic on the tray. Her childhood in a ranger clan, and her later indoctrination as Bhaal’s chosen assassin made it almost impossible for Isha to make a sound, even when she wanted to not sneak up on others accidentally. But a lifelong habit was not so easy to break. Shadowheart’s mother had been surprised to a near heart attack more than once by Isha’s sudden appearances.
Scratch's tail was thumping again, getting louder and louder as Isha drew nearer. She didn't announce her arrival, careful not to disturb their morning meditations. But She smiled brightly when she realised that Shadowheart had not looked away since she had opened the door. Shadowheart didn't know why she was always so surprised. She was hard to look away from.
Isha bent down to lower the tray, an offering of the steaming cups resting upon its surface. But they started to rattle as her hands began to violently shake. Shadowheart shot to her feet and quickly undid her partner's hands, taking the tray from her and passing it to her father who watched on with a sad expression.
Shadowheart clasped Isha’s shaking hands in her own, and ducked her head to look into her lover’s eyes, silently willing the burning irritation in Isha’s eyes to dispel themselves as her body one again ignored the pleas of her mind.
They had won, but it had come at a cost to all of them. Isha had already paid the ultimate price when she defied Bhaal, yet fate would take more than just her life.
Shadowheart could still vividly remember Isha’s screams as her mind connected with the Netherbrain, the stones that controlled the crown of Karsus clutched so tightly in her hands that they pierced her flesh. She could remember the sight of her blood, so newly her own and only her own, running like rivers from the cuts in her hand, as well as her nose and even her eyes, as her mortal mind clashed with the entire Illithid hivemind.
The damage Isha had done to the Netherbrain was immense, and without it being so crippled, no one would have survived that day. But the effort had crippled Isha in turn.
Gale had examined her after the dust of the battle had settled, and confirmed Shadowheart’s fears. No mind that wasn’t at least partially Illithid was supposed to connect to the hivemind, and it was only because Isha was literally born from a god that she wasn’t killed outright from the feedback effect. But something had buckled in Isha’s mind when she fought the Netherbrain, and no amount of time or magic could heal it.
Somedays it would manifest as a stutter, and Isha would struggle to finish a sentence, or she wouldn't even be able to say a word, even as her mouth moved to speak them. Other times it arrived as it had now, in sudden, often violent seizures.
On good days, it would just remain in her hands. On bad days…
Well… they were called bad days for a reason.
“Look at me.” Shadowheart whispered, raising a hand to brush against Isha’s cheek. Isha’s brilliant blue eyes twitch up, and her pupils constricted as she focused on Shadowheart. The first time they had met, Isha’s right eye, the one with the scar, had been a deep crimson in colour. They had all first assumed it was just an unusual trait. Heterochromia wasn’t that uncommon on torril… They would only later learn it was a mark of Bhaal, his brand that he used upon his offspring. When the ‘urges’ as they would become known, manifested themselves, the red would drift into her other, untouched eye. A red mist the colour of blood would push away everything that Isha would become to be known by, and a monster would be left in her place.
Shadowheart had been prepared to live with that. Living with reminding Isha that away from Bhaal’s influence, she was good . Shadowheart was prepared to do anything, even spend every evening tying her up so as to not let her accidently hurt anyone ever again.
Isha had not been prepared to run that risk. So she turned to her father, looked the lord of murder in the eyes…
And she said no.
Bhaal killed her then. Without even a snap of his fingers. Shadowheart still had nightmares about that night, watching Isha’s blood leave her body through every pore in her skin. She had seen Isha's life evaporate in a flash from her eyes and her body crumpled to the floor like a discarded doll. All that life she had lived, all that experience she gained in forging the person she would become from that empty creature she was at the crash site. All gone before Shadowheart could even scream her name.
Shadowheart hadn't expected Withers to intervene.
She hadn't expected it to take so long for Isha to come back to her.
But when she did, and Shadowheart was there for the first time her eyes fluttered open again . Shadowheart had to choke back her own sob of relief when she realised that both her eyes were that wonderful blue, the same colour as the midday sky, completely devoid of any influence that Bhaal held over her. Isha was finally free.
Shadowheart gently tugged on Isha’s arm and guided them both to the floor. Shadowheart spread her legs out wide and Isha settled herself into the gap, nestling her back into Shadowheart’s chest, whose arms wrapped gently around her wrist and her hands settled over Isha’s.
Isha’s hands were still trembling, but she let out a happy sigh and her head lolled back and tucked itself into the crook of Shadowheart’s neck. Letting themselves be looked after by others was something they both struggled with, but they were getting better at it.
Arnell smiled gently at the two of them before his eyes flicked up and he somehow smiled wider as Emmeline slowly hobbled down the path. He stood up and helped his wife to the ground beside their daughter and the four of them sat in quiet contemplation, the tea on the tray cold and forgotten.
Shadowheart watched her parents, burning the image of them sitting side by side into her memory. She had only just got them back, and she was already having to come to terms with the fact that her mother was old. She was frail, and her memory was fading along with her body. Her heart bled for her father, who in finally receiving his freedom, would soon lose the very thing that allowed him to carry on through all those awful years.
Shadowheart would have felt relief in the knowledge that at least her own partner was a half elf like herself. Except Isha was of their more woodland kin, who generally had slightly shorter lifespans than those of high elven lineage… and that didn’t take into account the damage to Isha’s mind, or the seizures, or even the fact that she had already died once before.
Shadowheart winced when the wound in her hand burned. Shar was yanking on her leash again. Reminding her in her moment of weakness that everything withers and dies eventually. Whether today, tomorrow or a hundred years in the future. Everyone Shadowheart knew will die. Loss will reclaim her in the end.
Isha’s hand gently turned in Shadowheart’s grip and squeezed, lifting Shadowheart’s hand shakily, yet gently to her mouth, she kissed the purple flare, and Shadowheart felt the moonstone pendant, a simple gift from Isha, yet the most treasured possession Shadowheart owned, glowing a gentle silver. Yanked from her wagon train of thought, Shadowheart could see Isha’s eyebrows furrowed in worry at her. Shadowheart smiled reassuringly and squeezed back.
Shar wanted them to embrace loss. To give up before they had even been given a chance to live. Maybe her mother would die soon. Maybe Isha would pass beyond before Shadowheart would have a chance to quickly follow behind her. But that didn’t mean they should just not bother. Yes it would hurt, and Shadowheart knew her heart would shatter into countless pieces like it already had before. But this time, she would lean into the pain, she would allow it to linger. Because the more it hurt, the more they had lived. That is something Shar would never understand... For she would never know the warmth in her chest, or the fireflies in her stomach. Shadowheart found herself pitying the goddess.
Shadowheart lent down and pressed a kiss to Isha’s temple, who hummed happily at the sensation. Shadowheart squeezed her arms tighter around Isha’s waist, who in turn attempted to snuggle in closer, like she could somehow burrow her way inside Shadowheart’s skin.
Shadowheart vowed that she would cherish every kiss and count every second that they had together. So when Isha’s time was up and Shar would come to reclaim her. She would laugh through her grief at how pathetic the goddess had become. Because however much it would hurt, the last thing Shadowheart would ever do, is willingly sacrifice the memories they had created together.
So the four of them sat there, and allowed the dawn’s rays to wash over them.
And what a beautiful dawn it was.