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Rhian’s relief was palpable once she stepped up onto the roof of the Elfsong, escaping the crowded inn below into the cool breeze of the late evening. She breathed in deep. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be around her friends, her hard-won family, the people she’d fought alongside these long months and had grown to care for, to love.
Their allies had spread across the city, gathering their forces, making contact with anyone that could aid them, waiting on them.
Rhian had sent word to everyone that she could, relying on some of her friends to reach out to their contacts. Everyone needed to be ready to go first thing tomorrow.
She had hope that the stones would be enough. That they could reach the brain in the pools, use them, and dominate the brain, putting an end to this illithid nightmare once and for all.
But she wasn’t an idiot.
There was always the chance something could go wrong, that the brain could sense them, or that something would go awry. She wanted everyone on alert that they were moving, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice to aid them should it come down to a fight.
Despite her insistence in her missives that everyone could remain as they were, wherever they’d found themselves in the city or the beyond, several friends had rejoined them for the night: Aylin and Isobel, quite a few of the tieflings, warriors and not alike, Barcus and his Ironhands, hells, she was sure she’d even seen Nine-Fingers and Florrick in the tavern.
Rhian suspected Karlach or Jaheira or Gale had intercepted her writings— adding in an invite back to the inn. There was no other way to explain why so many of them had shown up, crowding into both the bar below and their room upstairs to celebrate. One final night, all together.
With the chaos and noise— the chatter and celebration, the Tiefling kids darting around, music and dancing and drinking— Rhian had quickly become overwhelmed.
And so she found herself in a now-familiar spot, her own personal sanctuary in her times of need, standing atop the tavern. She hopped up onto the railing, drawing one leg up under her, just taking in the sights and sounds of the city streets below her, the raucous noise of her own group spilling out already, shadows thrown across stone from the warm light of the tavern.
Sitting above it all, it was strange. How normal everything still felt. The lamps being lit up and down the street in the growing darkness. People still wandering by in twos and threes at the end of the day, not a care in the world. A tiefling child danced around her parents in the street below, swinging a stuffed bear as she chattered on.
A few months ago, she might have longed for that— the return to the mundane, the weight of responsibility gone. But she didn’t know that the trade off would be worth it, for everything she had gained.
Even now…
Rhian wrung her hands.
One final mission. One final fight. And one way or another, it would all be over.
By this time tomorrow, they could all be tadpole-free.
She tried to avoid thinking of the other outcome…. But it was a hard reality to avoid, if they failed.
If she failed—
It wasn’t just her, her friends, her partner, that were at risk. No, it could spell out the downfall of the city. A mind flayer army under the command of an elder brain would lead to ruin across the Sword Coast, and beyond.
They had to succeed.
The cost was too great not to.
The hatch behind her creaked, and Rhian turned to see the tell-tale platinum locks of Shadowheart, boosting herself up the last couple of rungs.
“Hey, Shads,” Rhian relaxed, just her presence was enough to chase away the shadow of worry that had descended upon her, her mood immediately brightening.
“You’re not out here driving yourself crazy thinking about tomorrow, right?”
“Ahh,” Rhian sighed, scrunching up her face, “Maybe just a little? It’s hard not to, especially when seeing everyone together…”
She trailed off, letting Shadowheart draw her own conclusion— truthfully, it was the question of who would be left, after tomorrow. If it came down to a fight, would all of her friends survive? Who would she be walking away with? Or more importantly— who would she be walking away without?
The fear of her own mortality was still present, of course, because who was to say that Rhian would even be getting out of this? She’d already died once, and only thanks to Shadowheart— and through her, Selûne— was she sitting here now; she didn’t particularly want to test how likely another resurrection was.
Stepping closer, Shadowheart held out her hands, waiting for Rhian. Swinging around and getting down off the banister, she closed the distance to her lover, taking her hands.
Shadowheart brought Rhian’s hand to her mouth, lightly kissing the back of her knuckles. Looking up at her through her lashes, Shadowheart mumbled against her skin, “We’ll win this, my dove.”
Chuckling, Rhian squeezed her fingers. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“You accidentally turning yourself into a dove? No.”
Rhian glared at her, the silent threat undermined by the grin fighting to break out. “For the last time, it wasn’t a dove,” Rhian insisted again, “It was a—“
“‘A band tailed pigeon’,” Shadowheart mocked her, “So you’ve said.”
She already knew Shadowheart was doubling down on that to continue needling her, as if a druid wouldn’t know the difference between the two.
“But ‘dove’ is cuter,” she twined her arms around Rhian’s neck, and automatically Rhian lightly grasped her hips, “And don’t pretend you don’t love it.”
Rhian coo’d at her, the warbling call a decent approximation of the real animal, setting Shadowheart to giggling.
“I love you,” Rhian told her, the words coming easily, “More than anything, my Heart.”
She loved to watch how they flustered Shadowheart, causing her to look down, her fingers tapping nervously against her neck, cheeks flushing. “I love you, too,” she said back, finally meeting her earnest gaze.
Rhian pressed her forehead to hers, eyes sliding closed, just standing and holding her and choosing to believe in their future together.