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1.
They’ve been traveling together for three days now, and if that self-righteous, sanctimonious, supercilious paladin opens her mouth to spout about Bahamut’s glorious purpose one more time, Allura is going to cast Hold Person on her and dump her off a cliff.
Allura is not a religious person, has never been a religious person, but when Ghenn suggested that they add another member to the party for some extra muscle and had come back with a paladin, Allura hadn’t been about to refuse her half-orc companion’s request. True, the paladin in question was a halfling, but she seemed capable enough, and after the party’s last encounter with a band of gnolls had nearly ended in all of them winding up dead, having someone who could fight AND heal around might be beneficial.
Or so Allura had thought.
Now, slogging through the muck of the swampy forest, the home of their current target, and listening to the paladin explain to Dohla in excruciating detail Bahamut’s role in the creation of the planes, Allura thinks she’d honestly rather take the orcs. At least they knew the value of silence.
“...and that was how Vasselheim became the center of worship for the Platinum Dragon! I’ve never been there, but it’s supposed to be beautiful, maybe one day if we make our way across the Osmet Sea, I could-”
Allura stops and turns around. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to travel here.”
The paladin stops as well, her eyebrows snapping together. “Excuse me?”
Allura sighs, planting her staff in the ground next to her. “I would like to be able to walk and hear myself think at the same time, if you don’t mind.”
The paladin steps forward. She has to tilt her head back to look Allura in the face, but it still takes Allura some strength of will not to shrink back from the fire in her eyes. “If you have a problem with me, arcanist,” she says, spitting the last word like an insult, “I’d like you to say it to my face, if it’s all the same.”
“Your god is wonderful and magnanimous, I understand,” Allura says, keeping her voice as light and pleasant as she can. “I just don’t see how any of what you’ve said is any help to us.”
The paladin takes another step forward, and actually raises her hand and pokes Allura hard in the chest. “And your frippery and light shows are so useful, is that it?”
Allura gapes, her closely held propriety abandoned in the face of such a patently ridiculous insult. “How dare- my magic is hardly frippery!”
The paladin smirks, running her eyes over Allura’s robes. “Maybe not, but that outfit certainly is. Honestly, Allie, how large do a person’s sleeves really need to be?”
Allura draws herself up to her full height, feeling arcane energy begin to build and crackle around her hands. “Now listen here, you little-”
It happens in a matter of seconds. The paladin’s gaze shifts from Allura’s face to something over her shoulder. Her eyes go wide. She leaps forward, slamming into Allura and pushing her to the ground. Allura lands with a thud, breath driven out of her by the sudden weight of the heavily-armoured paladin covering her body with her own. She is about to launch into a blistering protest, when an arrow whistles through the space above their heads, where Allura was standing only moments before, burying itself in a tree a few feet away.
Allura has only a moment to register what’s just happened before the paladin leaps off of her, pulling her mace from her back and twirling it in hand. “Bandits!” she yells, beginning to glow with holy light. Allura clambers to her feet and grips her staff, and from there it’s the heat and rush of battle, her magic leaping and dancing in the air around her as she picks off bandits one by one.
It’s over in a matter of minutes, stray highwaymen no match for their party. Allura pauses a moment to lean against her staff, taking stock of her magical stores. Dohla catches her eye, eyebrows raised in question, but Allura waves her off. She’s running low on spells, but damned if she’s going to be the one to call for a rest.
The paladin--Kima--pulls her mace from the torso of the final bandit and straightens, stretching her arms out. “Anyone need healing?” The rest of them shake their heads, and Kima grins. “Excellent.”
Allura waits for Kima to say something, to rub in her face what she’s just done, but Kima never so much as glances in Allura’s direction. Not when they check over the bodies of the bandits, not when they continue on their journey, not when they settle down to make camp for the night. Kima volunteers for first watch, and Allura is about to turn in, when she can finally contain herself no longer.
“You saved my life.”
She blurts it out inelegantly, and Kima pauses in polishing her shield. She looks over to Allura and raises an eyebrow. “So?”
Allura waits for a further response. When none is forthcoming, she continues. “You don’t even like me.”
A pause. Kima sets down her shield and looks Allura full in the face. After a moment, she quirks a smile. “So?”
And, well. There’s really not much Allura can say to that, is there?
2.
They’ve been traveling together for a year and a half now, and Allura doesn’t know how she got on before she met Kima. They still bicker, of course: Kima’s devoutness and practicality often clash with Allura’s study of the arcane and fondness for creature comforts. But their disagreements are fond now, less arguments and more friendly disputes, returned to like old friends at the end of a long day.
Drake catches Allura’s eye during these arguments sometimes. She knows what he’s thinking. He asks her about it once, in the camp when they’re on watch together and the others are asleep. “So,” he says, a smirk raising the corners of his mouth. “You and the halfling. What’s going on there?”
Allura takes a stick and pokes at the fire, avoiding Drake’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He bumps her shoulder. She’s quite fond of Drake. He’s a spellcaster, like her, and he brings a smile to her face even in the darkest of places. “Come now, lass, I’m not blind. I see the way you look at her.”
Allura sighs. “Drake, don’t.”
“Why not? It’s clear you care about her. It’d do you good, having someone around for you in that way, I’m sure of it.”
Allura throws the stick into the fire. “ Don’t, alright? Please, Drake, I can’t-” She cuts herself off, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat. “I can’t talk about this. Please, don’t ask me to.”
A long pause. Drake sighs, and rests a cautious hand on her shoulder. “Alright, lass, if that’s what you want. But don’t wait too long, you hear me? There’s no guarantees in this line of work, especially for matters of the heart.”
Allura bites back a retort, that she knows there’s no guarantees, why does he think she’s kept quiet this long, and nods. That seems to satisfy Drake, and they pass the rest of their shift in silence until Ghenn and Dohla relieve them for third watch.
Lying in her bedroll, Allura struggles to put the conversation from her mind. She knows Drake means well, but it doesn’t ease the ache in her chest. She loves Kima, loves her in ways she didn’t know it was possible to love someone, but she’s never done this before. Her knowledge is in spells and potions, not… Not this. What does she have to offer Kima? Kima, who is strong and brave and beautiful, who risks her life to save others. What is Allura, that she would ask anything of her?
No. This is Allura’s problem. She’ll deal with it herself, and Drake can keep his oversized dwarven nose out her business.
It’s a good plan, and it might even have worked, had it not been for the banshee.
They’re exploring an abandoned tomb when they are attacked. The giant spiders are their first concern (and why is it always giant spiders, Allura wonders, wouldn’t an army of regularly sized spiders be bad enough), but they’ve been fighting together long enough that they dispatch the foul creatures with little trouble. Allura has only a moment to take in Kima’s triumphant grin as she brings her mace down on the last of them when her senses are flooded with noise. She drops her staff instinctively, hands coming up to clap over her ears, but the sound continues, a shrieking cry that tears through her mind and body, and it’s too much, it’s too much, she can’t-
Allura wakes to the cold stone floor pressing against her back. She takes a gasping breath as her eyes fly open, and her gaze darts from the ceiling above to the faces of her friends hovering over her, their cheeks streaked with tears. “What happened?” she asks, coughing as the cool air fills her lungs.
Dohla, who’s grasped her hand tightly, Allura realizes, sniffles loudly. “You were dead,” she says, her normally cheerful gnome face white with fear. “There was a banshee, she screamed, and you…”
“You just dropped.” That’s Ghenn, on her other side. “We turned to see what was what and you were just... Gone.”
Allura tries to sit up. Drake wraps an arm behind her shoulders, as much, she thinks, to feel her warmth and reassure himself of her safety as to help her. “How was I brought back?” she asks. Sirrus passes her a waterskin and she takes it from her, the cool liquid a balm to her dry and cracking throat.
“Kima,” Drake says. “She revived you. Damn near got herself killed, too, just ignored the banshee and ran straight to you. Thanks for that, by the way,” he adds, slightly louder, directing his words behind Allura. “We were fine killing it on our own, no assistance necessary.”
Allura turns and sees Kima. The halfling is kneeling on the ground, hands still clasped tight around her holy symbol. For once, she has no retort to Drake’s teasing. In fact, she seems not to have heard it at all, her eyes locked on her recently resurrected friend. Allura swallows at the expression on her face. She’s never seen Kima frightened before, and until this moment, might even have claimed such a thing to be impossible, but she can’t mistake the look in Kima’s eyes for anything else.
Slowly, Allura pulls herself to her knees, shuffling slightly so she can face Kima fully. She smiles. “You keep saving my life,” she says, and that’s as far as she gets before she is knocked over by the force of Kima’s embrace. She’s about to speak, to reassure Kima that she’s fine, honestly, it doesn’t even hurt, but she doesn’t even get the chance to form the words, because Kima is kissing her.
Kima is kissing her. Kima is kissing her. Kima is kissing her and oh, Allura might have wondered what kissing Kima would be like, when she couldn’t sleep and was too tired to feel guilty for fantasizing about her friend, but this. This is better than anything she dreamed of. The kiss itself is a bit iffy, Kima’s more enthusiastic than skillful, and their teeth definitely clack together at one point, but Allura can’t bring herself to care, because Kima’s weight is heavy in her lap, and Kima’s hands are buried in her hair, and Kima’s tongue is tracing against the seam of her lips, and Allura doesn’t think there’s ever been a moment when she’s felt so achingly alive.
Behind her, she hears Drake mutter “Fucking finally,” and then a high-pitched yelp that sounds like he’s just been smacked on the back of the head. There’s some shuffling as the rest of the group moves away to give them a bit of privacy, and Allura makes a mental note to thank them later. Once she’s stopped kissing Kima.
She doesn’t want to stop kissing Kima.
Too soon, Kima pulls away. Allura chases after her for a moment, something like a whine escaping her throat as she tries to bring Kima’s lips to hers again, but the halfling keeps back. Allura opens her eyes to find Kima looking at her, eyes welling.
“You died,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion. “You just… You just fell. By the time I got to you, you were already… You were just gone.” She swallows hard, her hand skimming from Allura’s hair down her shoulder and her back, as if to reassure Kima of her well-being.
Allura places a hand on the back of Kima’s neck and pulls her to her, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m alright,” she says, feeling Kima’s shaky exhale, warm against her cheek. “You saved me.”
Kima kisses her, once, twice, then pulls back to take Allura’s face in her hands. “Don’t do that again, Allie,” she says. After a moment, one side of her mouth quirks up. “I can only cast Revivify so many times in one day, after all.”
Allura laughs, laughs because it’s funny, laughs because she loves this woman, laughs because this woman loves her back. “I’ll do my best,” she says.
3.
They’ve been traveling together for three years now, and they are all going to die.
Ghenn was the first to fall. Thordak’s blistering breath swept over him where he stood, leaving only a gruesome and smoldering corpse in place of their fighter and friend. Sirrus was next, the human rogue’s stealth and speed not enough to keep her out of the dragon’s claws. Drake, Dohla and Kima remain, fighting on in the nigh-unbearable heat of the elemental fire plane, but Allura knows in her heart that the casualties are far from over.
It’s a foolhardy plan. Allura knows their chance of success is infinitesimal, but she has seen the destruction wrought by Thordak on Tal’Dorei. They cannot allow his rampage to continue, not if there is anything they can do to stop him. Not if there is anything she can do to stop him.
Kima and the others had constructed the battle plan, but the actual binding magic must be done by Allura and Drake. The others have the task of protecting them from the dragon’s wrath while they complete the ritual, and they must complete the ritual. Failure is not an option, not now. Not after two of their friends have fallen for their cause.
Allura is in the process of adding another layer of magic to the arcane binding when a cry rings out across the battlefield. Looking up from her work, she finds Dohla just in time to see the gnome, in the middle of drawing another arrow from her quiver, be seized in Thordak’s gaping jaws. Allura can only watch as the dragon bites down on her friend, Dohla’s shriek cutting off with a wet gurgle as Thordak tosses his head back and swallows her whole.
Beside her, Drake screams. Allura doesn’t speak, doesn’t think, just stands from where she’s knelt in front of the glowing sigils. Drake is yelling, at her, maybe, but it washes over her without reaching her mind. Thordak finishes his latest gruesome meal and turns his awful gaze to the rest of the group. He locks eyes with Allura, and she swears, she swears, a twisted grin spreads across his monstrous face.
Her mind goes blank. Arcane power gathers at her hands, spreading up her arms and over her chest, whirling around her head in sparks and bolts. Drake is yelling louder now, but she can’t hear him. She’s too busy preparing an attack, every fibre of her being screaming at her to kill this foul creature and send it to the abyss. There is no plan, no ritual, nothing but her and this piece of shit that has killed her friends.
“Allie!”
And Kima is there. Perhaps ten feet away, a deep cut running from her temple to her jaw, bleeding freely. Dimly, Allura thinks that she must be out of magic entirely, to be unable to even heal herself.
“Allie!” Kima calls out again, eyes on Allura even though she stands not fifty feet from the dragon. “You have to finish the ritual, Allie! It’s the only way!”
Allura turns her gaze back to Thordak. He seems almost to have been waiting for Kima to finish, his cruel eyes flicking from her back to Allura. She feels her magic course through her veins, pressing against her temples, desperate for release. She wants to attack him. She knows it is impossible, has watched her friends die in the attempt, but she wants to attack him anyway. She wants to kill him. She wants to watch him die.
Thordak rears up. Glowing heat begins to build in his belly and spreads up his neck. In a moment, he will release his fire breath again, and Allura knows that even if she gets an attack off first, he will kill her.
“Allie!”
With a scream of rage and desperation, Kima’s plea still ringing in her ears, Allura drops to her knees and pours her magic into the binding ritual. In the last second before Thordak’s fire spills from his throat, she feels the last thread connect.
There’s a roar of power, and a blinding light, and a primal shriek of fury, and then. Silence.
Allura opens her eyes. Thordak is gone.
“It worked,” she says quietly, and then topples over.
Within seconds, Kima is beside her, pulling her onto her lap, cradling her in her arms. “Allie,” she says, breathless with adrenaline and fear and relief, all at once, “Allie, are you hurt?”
“It worked,” Allura says again. Kima lifts a hand to brush something from Allura’s cheek, and she realizes that she’s crying. “He’s gone.”
Kima nods, leans down to press a kiss to Allura’s temple. “You did it, Allie. It’s over.”
She’s wrong, of course. It isn’t over. But Allura won’t know that for a very long time.
+1.
She’s been held in the duregar dungeon for she can’t remember how many days now, and Kima’s starting to think she might not make it out of this one.
Her escorts are dead. Either killed in the capture, or gave in to what was done to them. Just Kima left.
She’s held out for three days of torture. She doesn’t have words for the pain anymore. She doesn’t feel the pain anymore, which is how she’s knows it’s gotten really bad. At least, in the part of her brain that’s still capable of knowing things.
After the fourth day, she stops yelling at them. It was obvious they don’t understand her, anyway. After the sixth, she stops struggling. They might think she’s given up, but Kima knows better. Saving her strength, that’s the best plan for now. Save her strength until she has a chance to escape.
(Her healing magic runs dry on the fifth day.)
After she loses count of the days, the dreams begin. When she’s asleep, when she’s awake. She sees people she’s met in her travels, she sees her friends, Drake, Ghenn, Dohla, Sirrus, and Allura, Allura, Allura.
She hasn’t seen Allie in years. It’s stupid to think that Allie might have heard of her travels, might know where she was heading and send someone after her. (And what does it says about Kima, after all this time, that she can still only call her Allie in her mind?) Kima’s never been one for false confidence, but she clings to that thread. She clings to it through the pain and the loneliness. She lets the hallucinations wash over her, lets them fill her senses with sights and sounds of long ago memories.
She’s pulled from her waking dreaming by the sounds of battle. She comes to immediately, hands aching for her mace and shield, for a weapon to join in the fray. She strains against the chains and lifts her head to see the largest person she’s ever laid eyes on turning her jailer’s head to jelly.
Well. Her day’s looking up.
They free her, thank the gods, give her water and some borrowed armor. One of the half-elves (knives at his belt, and her heart clenches for Sirrus) says that Allura sent them.
She sighs, capping the dragonborn’s water flask. “I’d hoped she would.”
And in this blood-covered dungeon, in a cavern miles beneath the surface of the world, after days and weeks of darkness and torture, Kima smiles.