Chapter Text
With the githyanki guard defeated and the one in the orb once again subdued, Rhian whirled on the mind flayer, floating down from where it had hovered just above them.
“Thank you. That was too close.”
Whether it was her thoughts spilling over where it could hear them, or simply the expression on her face, the illithid honed in on her rage immediately. “Don’t look at me like that. I am a mind flayer, yes. Without me, you would be a slave to the Absolute.”
“It’s obscene- to owe my life to a damned ghaik,” she and Lae’zel were very much in agreement, it would seem, “No more lies, no more tricks. I will have answers!”
“The- the dream figure, the other… version of you. I trusted you,” Rhian’s heart was racing with the revelation.
“You grew attached to a mere disguise. But you ju-”
“Of course I did!” Rhian snapped back, interrupting it, “That disguise was my dead wife!”
She wanted to hear nothing more from the mind flayer, no more lies or pretty promises; instead, sheer fury burned in her chest, white hot and volatile.
Shadowheart reached for her, and Rhian shook her off, keeping her focus entirely on the illithid, not allowing her cleric to attempt to cool the fire of her rage. Jaheira and Karlach looked to Shadowheart for answers, shifting uneasily, eyes darting between the illithid and Rhian with her admission of who exactly she’d thought had been protecting her.
The mind flayer was taken aback, mocking her, “You did not truly believe…?”
Rhian glanced away, staring at the ground, a snarl on her lips. Maybe? No?
Yes…
She had hoped, that some way, somehow, Zorah had been protecting her. That after nearly a century she’d found a way back to her, even if it wasn’t in a way she would’ve hoped for. That maybe she’d ended up in the Astral Plane, rather than claimed by Mielikki. Why or how, she couldn’t have even guessed about. No. She hadn’t wanted to think about it too much. She had wanted for it to be her, so badly.
Instead it was a godsdamned mind flayer. She should’ve known. Shame and embarrassment burned on her face, hands clenching into fists at her sides, and she couldn’t look back at the rest of her friends. The silence from them was deafening.
Only Shads had known about Zorah. What would everyone else think? That she was delusional? That following her had been a mistake, if she could have so easily bought into the fantasy? Or worse- she didn’t want to withstand the looks of pity, for both her loss and now the façade dropping.
So she turned and walked away, growling, “Send me back.”
The illithid waved a hand, opening a portal back into their camp. Rhian didn’t wait for anyone else to follow her, leaving them to deal with the mind flayer however they pleased. She felt Shadowheart’s eyes on her until she was out of view.
Rhian made a beeline for Shadowheart’s tent, ignoring the attention from her companions that had remained in camp, having taken care of the other half of the githyanki force in their absence.
She threw down her weapons, hastily stripping off her armor with short, quick movements, dropping everything unceremoniously in a heap before stalking off to find somewhere to be alone, ignoring Gale’s wave to get her attention. Someone else could fill him in when they got back, she was done with any leadership duties for the time being.
Her rage still simmering, Rhian paced along the cliff’s edge at the outskirts of camp, path confined to the space between two trees. Her mind was buzzing. Back and forth. Of course the guardian in her dreams had been a mind flayer. Forth and back. She should’ve seen it from the beginning. Raking a hand through her hair, her fingers caught on her braids. The push to use the tadpoles, to embrace her potential, she mockingly thought, scowling at the echo of its voice… Zorah’s voice.
In one fluid motion, she was turning, her anger erupting. She punched the tree.
Knuckles barking in pain, she shook it off, resuming her pacing. Ten steps. Turn. Ten steps. Turn. Over and over. Her pulse was hammering so loudly in her ears, drowning out all other sounds, blood roaring like fire in her veins.
Of course it hadn’t been Zorah. Deep down she’d known it, but that hadn’t stopped the hope she’d felt from flaring up at seeing her again. Listening to her. Talking to her… Hugging her, even. She’d felt so real, so present, so…
Alive.
The illithid must have pulled all the details from her memories: her features, her voice. Looking back, she knew some of the inflections had been wrong. And she’d never have pushed Rhian to do something like using the tadpoles. Worse still, if the illithid had accessed her memories for all of that, it had known exactly what their relationship had been. It had found the perfect disguise to earn her trust, and it had known that, and used it.
But gods, Rhian dropped to sit on the cliff side, holding her head between her hands, pressing her fingers into the back of her skull, It had been so nice to see her again.
Staring out across the expanse of the city, Rhian slipped into a familiar numbness. Her hand ached from her assault on the local flora, and she tried to let that ground her. It half worked. She hoped she hadn’t broken anything, flexing her fingers.
Sitting alone, she wasn’t sure how much time passed, or if her friends had gotten back into camp yet. Despite everything, she knew they would be safe enough. If nothing else, the mind flayer in the Prism had made it clear they had a common goal.
After another several minutes, Rhian’s ear twitched at the sound of soft footsteps approaching from behind her on the dirt pathway. Without turning around, she sighed, figuring Shadowheart or Karlach had sought her out, probably coming to console her or cheer her up.
Instead, she was taken aback at turning and finding Jaheira.
Rhian considered asking her to leave, or telling her she wasn’t in the mood for whatever sage advice she’d come to offer her. She found she didn’t have the energy, silently gesturing for her to take a seat. If she’d come here to talk, that was fine. It didn’t mean Rhian had to respond.
“So, cub,” she said as she sat, “It seems you, too, are no stranger to heartbreak.”
Too? It shouldn’t have come as a surprise: between her age, experience, and profession, Jaheira was guaranteed to have seen her fair share of loss, but whatever she was getting at… It felt more personal than having just lost Harpers.
Rhian shrugged, picking up a loose twig, twirling it between her fingers, needing anything to keep her hands busy. “Who was it for you?”
“My husband, Khalid,” the Harper answered, to Rhian’s surprise; she hadn’t expected something that paralleled her own loss so closely, “They say time heals all wounds.”
Rhian laughed humorlessly at the sentiment. Time. She’d had nothing but time- damn near a century of it, in fact- to have let this fade. “Just because they say that, doesn’t make it true,” she bit out, voice bitter.
“No, it doesn’t,” Jaheira agreed sadly, “There are some that persist.”
Persist. This was less persistence and more like someone had taken a blade and ripped open an old scar. The ache of losing Zorah had never left her, never would, but for the illithid to have taken her likeness, her voice, digging them out of Rhian’s memory… It was like someone had flayed open her insides, ripping and tearing at her heart. Again.
Time and distance might once again give her the relief from it. It felt like nearly starting over, though, like she’d lost her all over again.
All because of some illithid mind games. The twig in her hands snapped.
“I’ve had it, Jaheira.”
The Harper seemed shocked at her tone.
Before she could voice a response, Rhian cut her off, “I was plucked off the street at random, forced aboard an alien ship where I had a worm shoved into my head to turn me into a monster*,”* Rhian flung her hand forward, broadly gesturing to their camp, the city beyond, her voice rising with both anger and desperation, “And now I’m here, and expected to fix everything, to save my friends, the city.”
“And I- I never asked for this- for any of it! You signed up for it, as a Harper, you knew the risks. I-“
Rhian was dangerously close to finally losing it, her voice breaking, her vision going blurry. Had she cried, in the time since the nautiloid? Had she really truly sat with everything that happened? She could feel herself shaking, hands unsteady.
She knew the answer was no. They’d been jumping from one catastrophe to another, and in the downtime they did have, Rhian had made sure she kept herself distracted, not able to think too much about her own circumstance, instead focusing on the problems her companions were facing. If she just gave herself something to work at, something else to distract her, she wouldn’t think about this. She could worry about it all after they’d won.
She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling Jaheira’s eyes on her. No longer in immediate danger of losing her composure, Rhian softly admitted, “I’m tired. And I thought throughout it all, my wife… I thought Zorah was protecting me, come back to save me.”
“And instead, I find out it was another godsdamned mind flayer trick,” Rhian’s voice dropped back into a growl, strained but no longer explosive, “And worst yet, I had it thrown back in my face in front of everyone. Made to look a fool in front of the very people looking to me for answers.”
Jaheira’s words were soft and sincere, “And no one thinks any less of you for it.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Rhian fought back against the wave of emotion those simple words brought with them. Jaheira would know better than anyone, she supposed. Despite the limited time she’d been traveling with them, she seemed to have a good read on everyone, and plenty of experience behind her… Rhian realized how quickly she’d grown to trust the High Harper, if her words meant that much to her.
Steadying herself, she shoved it all back down- the fear, the rage, the guilt- she’d deal with it. Later. When she could find the space away from everything. For now, she’d take solace in the fact that her companions still trusted her. “You’re sure about that? No one wants to jump ship?”
“Eh,” Jaheira shrugged, “Maybe one or two, but I think we both know they’d be dead within a week.”
Rhian gave her a restrained smile, choking on what she couldn’t tell was either a laugh or a sob, knowing- hoping- she was joking… probably. “That’s good, I guess. Thank you, Jaheira.”
“Any time, cub,” she stood, brushing dust and dirt from her trousers, “Though I don’t know that I said much, I’m glad I could help.”
She lingered when Rhian didn’t move to get up as well, staying seated on the cliff’s edge. Rhian opened her mouth to tell her she’d be along back to camp shortly, but Jaheira beat her to it, “You don’t plan on sitting out here all night feeling sorry for yourself, right?”
And the kind, sincere Jaheira was gone again. Rhian could only roll her eyes at the dig, glad she wasn’t treating her like something breakable, and instead falling right back to her usual self. “No, I’ll be right behind you.”
“Good,” she quipped from behind her, “Because you are allowed to lean on your friends, cub. And I believe I passed Shadowheart sitting up. Don’t leave her awake all night, waiting on you, hm?”
The mention of Shadowheart had Rhian turning back, “Is she…?”
“Sitting by the fire, like the world’s most loyal guard dog?”
“Heh,” Despite herself, Rhian snorted, unsure of how Shadowheart might take that particular comparison, “I’ll be sure to tell her you said that.”
“Oh, please,” Jaheira waved her off, “Like she believes a word you say.”
Offended, Rhian was about to shoot back another retort when the other druid wild shaped, green magic flashing to reveal a raven where Jaheira had stood, taking off to fly back across the camp.
Rhian stared after her, eyes still narrowed at the insult. Yet, Jaheira’s digs had done probably exactly as she’d intended: she felt lighter, a little more like herself again, and was ready to go back to camp to seek out her partner, some of the Harper’s parting words still ringing in her ears.
You are allowed to lean on your friends, cub.
Rhian thought back to the past several weeks, months, that they had all been traveling together. How much had she really spoken to her companions, about anything personal? She and Karlach had grown close, especially once they’d reached the shadow-curse lands, but most of their conversations had been centered around her feelings with Shadowheart. Wyll had tried to get to know her, and she’d shut him down, giving only the most barebones response about her life prior to the nautiloid, leaving them all to fill in the blanks. The others hadn’t bothered to ask, and Rhian had been content to leave it at that. She learned what she needed to about each of them, eventually. And in turn, she had shared as much as was warranted, which was, admittedly, not much.
Guilt or shame or- she didn’t even know how she was feeling with the realization, actually- sat heavy in her chest. Even with Shadowheart, she had kept herself closed off, only telling her about Zorah in a quiet moment, when it had felt like a necessity in case their relationship had gone further than simply being allies and traveling companions. And she’d never elaborated further.
Rhian’s mind flashed back to other instances: the first night they’d spent together, when she knew they’d both been absolutely terrified, when she’d been thrown back into her memories of home in the Mountain Pass, the time she’d panicked after fighting the meazels, how terrified she’d been of losing Shadowheart in Shadowfell. Time and time again, she had shoved them all away, or kept herself distant and silent in the face of everything.
For the first time in a long time, Zorah’s voice rose to the front of her memory. Truly her, this time, shaking her head and smiling her impish grin at Rhian, telling her, “You really fit quite a few of those elven stereotypes, don’t you?”
Sighing, Rhian could only smile at the memory, whispering to herself, “Well, some things never truly change, do they, Zor?”
Pushing herself up to her feet, Rhian took a deep breath. Maybe they ought to, this time.