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It was never really silent in Baldur's Gate, from dawn to nightfall there was always noise. From the busy sounds of the day with the voices of people mingling with carts on the cobblestones to the sounds of the night with roaring drunks, mugs being slammed on the tables and the sounds of whispers in the dark. It was something she had used before, the cover of the sounds to carry out her own plans. The streets were like an old friend, welcoming her back home, visions of some of things she had done. The faces of the ones she had wiped out of existence. A thread had reattached itself when she had found the green blade underneath the temple of Ilmater. When she had held it, her hand had remembered it. It was the blade she had carried, the hilt formed perfectly to her hand. There was something else about it, it carried something special as well, almost as if it was made for her. But the meaning of that was left to the void. The red and black mess of a memory, only working on blood and darkness.
Another thread had been woven together when she had dreamed of the temple of Bhaal. Had that been home for her? It must have been. Orin, her niece, her sister who had tried to kill her. Who wanted to finish what she had started. They had been close, she had just known it. The thread of her family attaching itself together, stitching together some memories. Orin and her in the temple, Saverok and her at the Murder Tribunal, her praying to her Father.
A Bhaalspawn. A name for her condition. An answer to the question that she had asked so many times. Who was she? A Bhaalspawn, feared by anyone who had heard about them. A monster, that was what she was. A monster driven by bloodlust. That was what the Butler had talked about, that was her divine essence. The reason why she couldn't communicate to her God, it was her Father that had forsaken her. Did she want his approval again? Would she have to beg and kill her bloodkin?
His name had always sounded sickeningly familiar, she didn't have any idea how. There had never been something that had connected to that name. Only that she must have known him in her previous life. Before the mangling of her brain. She had seen him from a distance, arguing with Ketheric and her sister. There was nothing that she had remembered, everything still lost to the void in her mind.
So she had entered the audience chamber unaware, had walked up to him with conviction. Ready to declare the man her enemy. Until he had looked in her eyes. Those eyes. It had been the eyes of the Dream Visitor, the man who had visited her in her dreams. The man the mindflayer had shaped himself after was him. He must have meant something.
"Come back from her bloody disgrace, it's my favorite assassin. God's you're a sight for sore eyes."
"Gods, you're a sight for sore eyes." Her crawling through a window into an office, a seductive smile on his face. Familiar, safe. Arms reaching for each other. Lips meeting, hungry kisses.
"My nearest and dearest."
"Come back to bed dear." His arm pulling her back on the mattress. Laughter. Skin on skin. Her hand on his face. Had it been love?
The rest of the conversation had been a blur, as some threads wove themselves together. Too overwhelming. Everything was just too much. More than she could handle.
"I will think about it. I will think."
It had been too easy to get around the Fortress, she had known how to enter. Where there were roots that led up. The feeling that she had done this before had come over her. Had this been her home? She felt nervous, if she did this, there was no way back. She wouldn't be able to disconnect from her former life. Her old and current life would bleed together, her flesh would be both of them again. She scratched a spot on her wrist until it bled. The scarlet pearling up, a beautiful and perfect drop of blood. She needed to know. She arrived on a terrace, low security. Had he been expecting her? Logically he should have tightened up security. But how did she know how much guards he usually had outside his door? She had to know.
"You came." He stood at a table, two glasses of wine present with the bottle beside it. Red wine, she had learned that she preferred red wine. Had it always been the case?
"I had to." For a reason she knew that there was no reason to lie. That deception and masks had been a game they had played for a long time, a game that had gone further. Until it hadn't been a game anymore and the masks had to be shed. Until it had just been them.
"I knew that you would." He blinked again, like he wasn't sure that it was really her. Like he didn't know what to do, to keep the distance in between them or to run towards her. She went through the same. Her body seemed to know, it ached to be near him. She started to walk towards him, slow at first but as he walked towards her her pace picked up as she almost ran. When she felt his arms around her and she hooked her arms around his neck, she knew it. Home hadn't been a place in this city, it had been him. He had been home. The smell of wood and amber, his smell. How perfectly she molded into him, it had been him.
Her destiny had always been decided for her, her future locked in a certain way, her behavior expected, her faith determined. But he, he had been her choice. She had chosen him. She clung to him as he was the only thing that anchored her in this life. All those lives she had taken, commands given by her Father as if she was on strings. All those eyes that had lost their light by her, pulled into the mist of death. But when she was with him, she had chosen it herself. Every person she had killed for him had been a choice she had made. Not out of urges, not out of devotion, no, because it served a purpose for him. A gift from her to him. A declaration of love. She had buried her face in his chest, just listening to his heartbeat. How many times had she done this? How many times had he looked at her as if she was the moon and the stars?
One of his hands found her face, angling it up so he could look into her eyes. A soft smile on his face, so different from the mask he had worn before. Had she seen that smile a lot? He leaned in for a kiss, soft at first. Hesitant, looking how they each responded. So painfully familiar. The slow kisses turned hungrier, needier, almost desperate. After all this time, after all this time, finally. It was almost like they were made for each other, matching each other.
"I've dreamed about this every single night," he whispered in between kisses. She pulled him closer, she needed him closer. She didn't want to let go.
"I've also had dreams about you, I still knew you."
"Welcome home, Achlys."