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Judas	By : BronxWench Category: +M through R > Neverwinter Nights Views: 438 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights 2 and I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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- 2
AN: So, this is the first fan fiction I ever wrote, way back in 2008. It started out as a one-shot, until someone asked me, "What happened next?" I pulled this a long time ago, because I thought it was dreadful, and full of excessively purple prose, florid descriptions, and serious issues with maintaining POV. But it nagged at me, and I decided to edit it a bit. (Okay, a lot.) This is the end result, which I'm dedicating to Anesor, who gave me the courage to write a second chapter, and who we lost earlier this year. Thank you, my dear friend, for everything.

Judas
She sat between the crenelations of the wall, looking out over the lights of the homes and shops in the courtyard below. Despite the chill of the evening, she wore only a thin linen tunic the shade of woodsmoke over soft breeches and tall boots. The Sword of Gith lay across her thighs, the hilt resting loosely between her fingers. She could feel its strange energy running up her arm. It felt the presence of its ancient enemy as surely as she did. This night could very well be her last, and here she sat, alone with the sword...
Chapter 1
“So... the paladin heading off to pray?” Bishop moved out of the concealment of the shadows, his amber eyes glinting with malice. “I'd be insulted, if it were me. I'd think you had more to offer a man than some maimed god.”
She did not bother to turn around. In the moonlight, her inky hair was painted with silver. She had left it loose for once, and it lay across her cheekbones, concealing her eyes. All shadow and smoke, he mused. Let's see if we can find the hidden blade.
“Of course, I've never been sure if there's anything left of the man, after Tyr got done with him.” Bishop studied the clouds that scudded across the face of the moon. “The paladin was broken long before you took him in at the Well. Doesn't look like you had much luck putting all the pieces back together. Should've let Grobnar have a turn. The gnome's good with mechanical men.”
She shivered as a gust of wind swept a new blanket of cloud across the moon. “I asked him to go.” Her voice was low.
“And he went?” Bishop laughed, taking off his cloak and draping it around her shoulders. She reached up, moving so quickly that even he almost missed it, capturing his wrists in a surprisingly strong grip. She drew his arms around her, leaning back to rest against him.
“And you wouldn't have gone,” she said. “But then again, I wouldn't have wasted my breath asking you.”
Bishop leaned forward, gathering her closer to him. His hand brushed the hilt of the sword, and he felt a sharp edge of pain run along his nerves, drawing a hiss from him.
“And so it begins,” she murmured, her voice heavy. “Already it's too late.” She dropped the sword to the ground as she turned to face Bishop. He caught a tear as it spilled over her lashes, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips.
“Don't waste tears on me.” Bishop tilted her chin up, his eyes locking on hers. “We both know this is the only way. Who better than me, eh?”
“Who said I was crying for you?” Her voice was sharp, and Bishop grinned in savage triumph. And there's the blade, he thought. Good–let her be angry. It will keep her alive. He watched as she dashed the lone tear away, her gesture rough and graceless.
It had been that curious grace of hers that caught his eye first. That and the way she watched him without seeming to pay him any attention at all. He had wanted to hate her, to lump her in with her foster uncle as just another useless, puling do-gooder. He had been as surprised as anyone when he realized he had stopped trying to find a reason to be angry, to push her away with bitter words.
“They'll come tonight,” he said casually, changing the subject. She was the first one to think I might be worth something, might be more than Luskan-trained scum. Even if she's the only one who'll know what I've done, it's worth it. “Garius needs the cover of night for his undead.”
“He told you?” She pressed her forehead to his chest, her hair swinging forward to hide her face again.
“I'm supposed to sabotage the gate at dawn.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet, clean scent of her. “Thing is, he's found a way to empower his undead even further. He can make them resist the sunlight. He's counting on that to demoralize you and your men.”
“By all the gods!” she swore. “How do we fight that?”
“Much as it pains me to say this, save the paladin for the dawn, and the gith. Let them turn the undead then, as best they can. Tonight, take Qara with you, and set her loose to burn the world. Take the dwarf too. I'll deny it if you tell him, but he's worth ten Greycloaks in close fighting.” Bishop paused to kiss the top of her head. “There's nothing Garius can throw at you that you can't handle, remember that.”
“Because I'm the Kalach-Cha?”
“Because you believe in what you're fighting for,” Bishop said. “Hells, you've even made me believe.” He snorted. “I'm not thanking you for that, by the way.” He could almost feel her smile.
“I didn't think you would,” she murmured. “There's so little time left. If I asked you to come to my room with me, would you come?”
Bishop lifted her chin, and kissed her lips very softly. “No. Not tonight, not like this.” He laughed as her eyes widened in surprise. “It's better when I'm not rushed.”
“Ah, being selfish as opposed to noble? And there's the Bishop I love,” she said, keeping her voice light. “Of course, if you're afraid...”
“Of you? Always,” he chuckled. “You have this burning need to sacrifice yourself, and everyone around you, on the altar of your good intentions. There'll be time later, when you're done saving all of Faerûn, providing the paladin hasn't managed to decapitate me first.” He reached down and picked up the sword, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Now, just tuck this back in your belt, and we'll watch the stars for a bit.”
She settled herself in the curve of his arm, watching the cold glitter of the Tears of Selûne. Bishop watched their reflection in her eyes, wondering if she could feel the aching thud of his heart. It would have been so easy to say yes, to give her this one night, he mused. And how much more pain later, when she learns what I already know, that there's no time, no future for us? And when did I start sounding so much like the damned paladin?
Bishop leaned down to kiss the top of her head one last time, wondering if any of them would live to see the next night. What puzzled him most was how little he cared, as long as he managed to die before her. Where I'm headed, that should be easy enough to manage.
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Judas