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“You must think me such a fool, for believing a dark goddess could ever have my best interests in mind.” Shadowheart sat heavily on the edge of her bed, unsure where to turn her eyes other than to the dust on the floor by her feet.
“No more a fool than a man who trusted a devil,” Wyll smiled, floorboards creaking as he made his way over to the table by the window in the tavern’s upper floor rooms that had become their temporary home. Their friends had left in search of clues to his father’s whereabouts, but that was a reality he was unwilling to face – in choosing to free himself of Mizora’s contract, he’d lost the one real lead they might have had.
“You didn’t have a choice,” her voice was as straightforward as ever, almost reassuring in how blunt she could be. “Perhaps neither of us did, when we were scared, alone, running from the monsters in the dark…”
“We’re not alone any more, nor are we running—” he stopped short at her name, lips barely finding the shape of the first syllable as it fell away to silence, uncertain now the truth of it had come to light.
“Shadowheart is just fine, it’s as much my name as any other now for how long I’ve worn it. It might take a while to get used to hearing anything else.” Shadowheart’s eyes flickered to the closed door, behind it a side room in which her parents were hopefully resting again. Her gaze returned to where Wyll was now setting some candles in the centre of the table, and straightening a few fresh herbs that Halsin had left in a vase to look more like a bouquet. “Wyll, what are you doing?”
“Well, it’s…I thought since we have a little time together, we might make this a date, of sorts, if you wante—”
“That much was obvious,” she stood up with a smile, casting a quick glance behind her before rummaging for a moment through Astarion’s belongings, “but we can hardly have a meal without some good wine.”
“Are you certain that’s a wise idea?” Wyll raised an eyebrow even as he continued to set the table with a pair of silver goblets from his own pack.
“Oh, he won’t miss one bottle, surely,” Shadowheart set it on the table, the cool of her fingers brushing past his for an all-too-brief moment. “Besides, I think we’ve earned this one.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he pulled out the chair for her with a bow and a flourish. “Your seat, my lady.”
“Charming, though I am quite capable of sitting by myself.” Despite her words, Shadowheart moved to allow his help, taking a corkscrew to the wine whilst Wyll lit the candles.
“Of course you are – I’ve seen you drive your spear through beasts four times your size,” the candle light seemed to spark a deeper fire in his infernal eye as their gaze met across the table, “but you don’t have to. Perhaps, every now and then, you might allow me to spoil you.”
“So this will happen more than once? Good to know.” Her eyes sparkled with promise in ways that made his heart almost sink through the floor, the cold reality of their uncertain future trying to claw its way back into the brief moment of peace. “You know, you’re not really what I expected.”
“Oh? What is it that you expected?” Wyll’s smile turned a little more devilish as he leaned forward, elbows on the table in a way that would make his etiquette tutor grimace, chin propped up on his hands.
Shadowheart took a long sip of her wine and looked him up and down, eyes lingering perhaps a little longer than they could have. “Well, first we heard about the legendary Blade of the Frontiers—”
“Gods, don’t remind me… I fear I’ve done little to live up to the reputation I gave myself, knowing who Mizora was actually sending me after.”
“You are a hero, Wyll, just not in the way you thought you would be.” She set her glass down, sincerity crossing her expression as she sat forward a little. “Back in Shar’s Temple…”
“For a former follower of Shar, you’ve never been fond of the dark, have you?” He pointed to his infernal eye, flames flickering with the change that his patron had wrought upon him. “This has its benefits – when the spells enveloped you in darkness, I could still see you. The fear…”
“So you cast daylight on my spear when I was too afraid to do it myself.” Shadowheart leaned forward, thumb gently caressing the ridges and scars along Wyll’s cheek, her touch cool against his warm skin. “You see? A hero. I just…didn’t imagine I’d ever find myself falling for someone like you. Someone good.”
“You sound like you don’t believe you aren’t good, yourself.”
“Wyll, I did blindly follow Shar, for most of my life. The things I did in her name…”
“Were not your choice.” He slid his hand over hers, turning his cheek further into her touch, savouring the soft scent of night orchids that always seemed to linger even when she left the room. “You could have turned away the moment I was transformed, when these wretched horns…”
“I find them quite dashing,” Shadowheart leaned forward and stole a chaste kiss from lips that had fallen silent mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, really, for the pain you went through, for not doing something to stop it.”
“What could you do? What could anyone have done?” A hint of sadness coloured his smile, as he moved her hand away from his cheek, holding it carefully between his own. “And what did I do every time the pain tore through your hand, even when I knew you were trying to hide it?”
“You were there, and that was enough.” She sighed, leaning back a little again as she picked up her wine. “Sometimes that’s all we can be, just here, in the moment. So for one blissful moment, we’re not suffering alone.”
Wyll looked deeper into her eyes. Past the reflection of the candle, past the edge of hurt she still tried to bury where he wouldn’t notice, and there it was. A spark, something entirely intangible yet so precious he never wanted to let it go.
Hope.
“For all the things the world needs us to be – heroes, friends, good children to our parents – that is the one thing we never have to be again; alone.” He squeezed her hand gently as she put down the chalice that was in her other. “No matter what happens, where we have to go, we have each other.”
“You’re going to leave, aren’t you.” Shadowheart saw the truth, plucking it out like a weed amongst the flowers he’d planted to hide it as she so often did. “It’s alright, Wyll, you don’t have to explain. I know. Karlach needs you, and they need me too.”
Wyll looked to the door again, wondering why families couldn’t ever be so simple. “Then…will you wait for me? I don’t even know if she’ll agree to go but…I swear, I will do everything in my power to return as swiftly as I can, I have little desire to remain in Avernus but—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” This time it was Shadowheart who held his hand closer, kissing the back of his fingers softly. “I would wait a lifetime or more if I have to. But,” she smiled, that delightfully sharp edge entering her voice, “I would rather not have to. And Wyll? If you die, I will bring you back just to kill you again for having the audacity to break your promise.”
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cast Blade Ward against the dagger of her glare, so he settled for returning her smile. “Then I will make it my solemn vow to you, here and now, that I will be back – alive and well – to find a future that is ours . One that isn’t dictated by family or contracts or any of the gods.”
“You’re always so serious,” she laughed softly, a sound that lifted his heart further to hear it, to dream of hearing her joy a thousand more times. “I like that about you, really. And you’re the only other one here with a wit that is truly as sharp and subtle as your blade.”
Wyll was almost certain the room got brighter, as he saw the sincerity from her. The affection that she showed to precious few in moments that he treasured more than any titles or gold. “Then allow me to leave the subtlety behind for now,” he stood and bowed, holding out one hand towards her, “would you do me the honour of this dance?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
There was no need for music, nor ballrooms and fancy silks. All they had, and all they needed, was each other.
Wyll led with measured steps, a waltz he was familiar with and a partner who followed with graceful ease. His hand felt like the perfect fit on Shadowheart’s waist, hers delicately resting on his shoulder. The other side, their fingers laced and entwined, a soft intimacy as they danced between backpacks and bedrolls.
They both knew that their song would end, that their impromptu date would not last forever, but it didn’t matter.
The Blade of the Frontiers was no thief, but he would steal every moment he could to be by her side.
Shar’s former protégé was no guard, but she would not let anyone take this joy away from her.
Beneath the eyes of vengeful deities, out of reach of malicious devils, the maiden and the monster carved a path across the makeshift dance floor, dust motes in the sunlight swirling and sparkling like magic itself surrounded them. Fate in all its wisdom had reshaped them into this, the appearance of light and darkness turned upside down as the hero took on devilish traits and the woman who tried so hard to walk a darker path almost glowed with the moon’s own light.
As they continued to hold each other close, the steps of their dance trampled on the shadows of memory, chasing out the wolves and demons that haunted them until all that remained was the warmth of two hearts that had finally found their homes.