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Ceald Amothien	By : wanderingaddict Category: +M through R > Neverwinter Nights Views: 7242 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Gracious,
I probably owe you a better explanation. I find it strange that,
surrounded by demons and everything,
Valen would grow up hating his own blood (and by extension, himself).
Rather, he hates the demonic mentality, and values his humanity,
not the fact that he’s human. Also, he’s going to be a
little stronger about it given his current proximity to the Seer and
the rebels (more or less his home). Fawnheart:
you’ve no idea how tempted I was to just abandon the rest of
the story and have Valen plow Ceald on the floor of the Temple.
Should I just delete all this and write that instead? :P Ermine
White: I’m mighty glad you
liked this one too, and thanks for the bit about Kara Tur, I’d
never have found that on my own! It’ll certainly
help that bit of backstory go quicker. Lunar:
Haha, no worries, there won’t
be much angst (yet!). Things aren’t serious enough for angst,
and both these guys are too tough to lay around moping. Mistah
Eleganza: Thanks again for showing
me where I went wrong in the last chapter, I went back and fleshed it
out, and tried to keep this part fleshed out as well.
Assamith/Unseelie: Argh,
I give you love and you beat me with it! Haha, these chapters are
tough, but I’ll try as best as I can to get them out faster!
Luckily for you, this one didn’t require too much rewriting.

Listen!
I really, truly want to improve, and the best way for me to do that,
in both my writing and understanding my own characters, is to hear
feedback from you guys. I promise I won’t get riled up and I
won’t bite. I want to hear from you, you readers are the whole
reason I post this on teh interwebz. I can’t get better without
feedback, and I especially want feedback on this Chapter 4 thing. I
know I’m better at action than romantic development, so tell me
what you thought of Chapter 4 as a whole: does it mesh with the rest
of the story? Are you absorbed by the characters still, or are their
interactions getting dull? Do I spend too much time focused on
nothing when I need to find an develop plot? Those are just
a few questions to answer if you feel like afterwards. Anyways, much
love and OMG I HIT 50,000 WORDS!

This
is kinda like, vaguely supposed to be
one chapter (hence part 1 and 2, instead of two separate stories) so
please try to treat it as one continuous entry.

+---=--=---+

I
leaned back against the pillar, seeking solace in the presence of
cool stone at my back. Sighing, I glanced up, out of one of the tall,
narrow windows that lined the hall outside the Temple’s
sanctuary. The sight of the night sky
wasn’t as much of a balm as I’d hoped it would be. I
pushed myself off the pillar and headed for the great double
doors at the end of the hall,
eager to leave the Temple and return to my rooms in the Maevirr
Tower.

People
were still wandering about the hall, usually in clumps of four or
five, but none of these drow were making their way to the sanctuary,
though their
eyes darted to the black curtains guarding it often enough. I could
still hear the music and wild laughter coming from my back, but now
it was starting to get drowned out by whatever was going on outside.
The noise piqued my curiosity, so I started to wind my way through
the crowd of Eilistraeen
drow in the doorway. As I wove through though, I could see their
heads turn and glance about, their eyes uncertainly trying to follow
me. It worried me that my spell was failing. I checked it mentally,
and found everything in perfect order. I chewed my lip in though as I
slipped between two Eilistraeen priestesses, who were chuckling at
the expense of the blushing novice trailing behind them. Why would my
spell not… oh, right, the
glamor. It was still competing for attention despite the greater
power of my recent spellcasting. I frowned and tugged the magical
weave surrounding me, letting it temporarily overwrite the
enchantment.

My
pace slowed after I stepped out of the hall onto the pillared arcade
outside the Temple. A bevy of dark elves had filled the courtyard,
most of them appearing to be waiting for something. These, like the
ones in the hall, were clad in diaphanous
gowns and short togas, markedly different from the brief strips of
cloth that I had seen the other drow wearing in the Temple’s
sanctuary. None of them noticed my passage, for which I was mildly
grateful.

Ahead,
I could see the city’s guildhouses, vibrantly colored in some
rather creative combinations, standing tall above courtyard wall. In
the distance, the gold and green and purple flames of faerie
fire that lined the towering spire of House Maevirr pulsed a
flickered with the excitement of the festival air. The sheer volume
of noise was startling, given the fact that only an hour before the
streets had been near empty of life. A cacophony of sound came from
the city, and from what I could see of the Temple Square through the
gates, the rest of the drow had decided to join in.

The
plaza was filled with a riot of color, and packed with people. They
were wearing everything from, well, everything to nearly nothing at
all. I could see drow in ridiculous outfits of puffed silk, with hats
nearly the size of their bodies, in the brightest and most garish
colors available. There were men in loincloths, with sequins and
glitter spread across their bodies, outlining muscle and taut ridges,
and women in gauzy shifts that barely hung past their thighs. A
nonstop flood of people moved through the streets, laughing and
talking excitedly, eating and yelling lewd comments to one another or
cheering particularly
amazing costumes. The entire population of the city must have turned
out for this, and I suddenly understood why Nathyrra was so defensive
about Sulloth Dair.

Watching
the spectacular display through the
gates, I could not believe that this city had hung under the threat
of utter annihilation only a few days ago. I could hardly believe it
was a drow city too, for that matter. The festival was something I
had never even heard tell of before, and I was astounded that a race
as self-destructive as the drow were actively participating in it,
and what’s more, with complete abandon. It wasn’t a
misconception to call the drow self-destructive. Thousands of
historians, tacticians, and commanders across Faerun had often
remarked that no other race was so zealous, so complete in their
dedication to perfecting some of the deadliest skills and magics in
the world, and yet, for all their power, they rarely left the borders
of the great cities they had constructed in the Underdark. There was
never a conquest or subjugation of another city, and rare were the
forays to the surface. Most drow were more than content to live and
die within the same twenty miles that they had been born. It was only
the noble houses that would wage war, usually on anything around
them. Some things were true enough, and it would serve no purpose to
blind myself to them.

So
was I blinding myself now? From what I’d seen, the majority of
the drow in Lith My’ather were nothing like the demonic tales
I’d heard and read about on the surface. Sure, they were still
rather callous and, well, more than a little convinced of their own
racial superiority, but that was understandable. I’d
encountered worse in my travels. Perhaps it was the presence of the
gentle Eilistraeen drow
in the city, or maybe it was due to the fact that it was so far from
the heart of drow society, near the outskirts of even the Valsharess’
empire, but there were none of the cruel, heinous acts I’d
heard tales of on the surface. For the most part, they were just
ordinary people too, with friends and family, hopes and aspirations,
going about their days the same as any other race I’d ever
seen.

Maybe
it was simply the lack of drow nobility though, I mused. With only
one matron mother in the city, and her goddess silent, maybe it was
because there wasn’t any need for the drow to display any of
the near mindless hatred that stigmatized them. I watched kids in
oversized masks chase each other through the crowd, weaving and
darting between the legs of the adults, who would laugh and encourage
the game too. More specifically, it was probably the fact that most
all of the drow in the city were just commoners, simply trying to
make it from day to day, unconcerned with the cruel acts the ruling
nobles committed on one another. That was the attitude most commoners
had over things they could not control.

Days
like Sulloth Dair
must be the answer to the repression of expression and love that the
drow must feel, a day where they could remain unconcerned about noble
intrigue, about schemes and plots within plots and outright murders.
Living in the dangerous Underdark, where one could die as easily
inside the protection of a city as without, living in a world where
no one, not even your own family, would particularly
care if you did... these few days where one could just let things go
and simply be. I could see how that must be nearly intoxicating in
and of itself.

With
an even greater appreciation of the drow celebration in mind, I
decided to skip using the Relic and walk back to my rooms in order to
really see everything the festival had to offer. I could hear
clashing strains of music from all directions, competing heavily with
the loud and boisterous laughter coming from the crowd of chattering
people.

“Ceald!”
A trill ran down my spine when I heard a deep voice call out from
behind. Fuck. It was his voice, the same guy who I was so not in the
mood to deal with right now. I just wanted a night to myself, look
around the city a bit and then skip over the rest of the festivities
and curl up with Oerth in my chambers. Feigning that I hadn’t
heard the demon call my name, I slid into the crowded plaza and
realized that for once I was surrounded by my fellow elves and yet
stood out more sharply than I would have in a crowd of humans. The
difference between me and the surrounding drow was that of day and
night. I was taller than most of the people around me, a rare enough
occurrence
as it was, and it didn’t help that I was the only one who
seemed to be in a rush. Aside from that, there was the simple fact
that onyx skin highlighted my bronzed tan, silver locks emphasized my
flaxen ones. Were it not for the garish outfits donned for the
victory celebration, I would have shone like the sun at night.

I
wove through the drow, who had filled the plaza to the brim and every
street beyond. Dark elves surrounded me on all sides, chattering
madly and laughing, looking like they’d tossed inhibition to
the wind and were striving to pack as much life as they could into a
single night. My escape was halted suddenly when a man, his arms and
chest surprisingly brawny for an elf, snatch his companion into his
arms press his face to his friend’s mouth. The brawny elf
dropped the smaller man, throwing his arms up and cheering loudly.
His friend, looking weak-kneed and breathless, threw up his arms and
drunkenly
cheered too, though I don’t think he really knew what was going
on.

The
crowd shifted and I darted into the next gap of people, only to be
blocked by a similar display between two women. After seeing it
happen two more times, I started to get the feeling that it was
common practice. Slowly, I picked my way
through the crowded square, aiming for the brilliantly lit tower of
House Maevirr, glowing a thousand different hues of faerie
fire. With any luck, Valen would assume that I had lost myself in the
celebration and give up whatever reason he had to speak to me.

“Ceald,”
I heard behind me, as an amazingly warm hand closed over my arm,
tightly enough to force a halt in both my path forward and in my
train of thought. Damn,
I swore in realization. I’d forgotten that I’d already
used up my luck for the year in yesterday’s battle. Only one
man in all Lith My'ather had hands that big, that warm, or a deep,
velvety voice capable of being at once booth seductively smooth and
raspy.

My
breath caught in my throat as I swung
back to face him. The other reason I had no desire to deal with him?
The man was stunningly handsome. He had burnished red hair, bound
back from his face in a short braid, thick copper eyebrows, and
lashes that were full enough to inspire envy in most women. A few
loose strands were left free from his braid to frame either side of a
sculpted face, the highlight of which were the hard, ice blue eyes
that only seemed to show a bare ghost of emotion. I had to tilt my
head back just to meet his gaze, which made me so intensely aware of
the proximity of his sculpted
body, the deep V in his shirt showing a tantalizing amount of muscle
and skin. One would think his body was divine, were it not for the
fact that he had deathly pale skin that wasn't left pinked by red
blood, but instead grayed by the demon’s black. Or if one
overlooked had two thick horns that jutted out from his forehead
before curling tightly back to arc over his skull. Oh, and he was
absurdly tall for one who claimed to have elven blood. He literally
towered over me, standing as close as he did, my chin perhaps even
with the bottom of his sternum.

Arousal
came flooding back, nearly overwhelming my self-control. I wanted
nothing more than to fall to my knees and beg Valen to fuck the life
out of me, I wanted the demon to simply snarl, toss me back and tear
my body open. I wanted fill my mouth with his flesh and suck and
bite~

Barely
managing to force raw desire down and regain control of my senses, I
opened my eyes to see Valen peering down, open concern on his face. I
flushed, only partially from
embarrassment, and pulled my arm out of his grasp, facing the demon
fully.

“Sorry,”
I said, smiling guiltily, deliberately keeping
my eyes from roving over his body. I tried to take a calming breath.
“I just had to get out of there. Is it always like that?”

Valen
shot me a curious look. “Is wha-”
he started to say, before he understood what I was asking. “No,
no, Ceald.” He shook his head. “The truly devout, the
older ones who have worshiped
Eilistraee for years, are making their way to the mushroom forest
outside of town. This is for the freshly converted.” The demon
gave me a commiserating grin. “The priestesses don’t like
it, but...” he shrugged. “The Seer finds that it is
easier to allow them to carry remnants of their past for as long as
they need to, and lets them give them up on their own accord,”
he continued, “It makes their faith stronger when they do. In
the meantime,” the demon twisted a little to look back at the
glowing
purple dome of the Temple’s sanctuary. “That is the
converts’ holdover from worshiping
Lloth. Sex plays a prominent role in her religion.
Carnal thoughts are encouraged.” Valen jerked his head at the
drow around us. “Primarily domination and pain. In order for
the drow to truly shed the remnants of their past, the Seer tries to
shake all aspects of their previous life free.” He shrugged
again. “So she lets them have their fun in a place of safety
and trust.”

It
took me a moment to digest that. I quirked a brow at him and asked,
“Trying to convert me, Valen?” The demon, distracted by
something in the crowd, glanced down at me again to scowl. I laughed,
rolling my eyes at him. “Just teasing,” I said, knowing
full well what he thought of religion. The
only reason he cared to learn about it at all was because
he dogged the Seer’s footsteps constantly whenever we were in
the city. “But didn’t you just say the Seer tries to
tolerate their past?”

“I
said she lets them carry, not that she doesn’t try to help them
leave it behind.” He was looking over the heads in the crowded
plaza again.

I
waited a moment, but his attention didn’t return to me. Someone
pushed past me from behind and I was forced to press closer to the
demon’s chest for a moment. “So...” I said, feeling
awkward. “Did you need something?” Valen glanced down at
me, surprise on his face, but it passed and he shook his head. I
shifted my weight from foot to foot after he looked away again, tired
of simply standing there. “See you tomorrow then,” I said
quickly, turning around to dip back into the crowd of people. I took
one step froward
when I felt Valen’s hand close around my arm again, pulling me
back into the charged heat radiating from his body, sending a ripple
of raw desire through my body.

“Wait
a sec, will ya?” he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“In such a rush to be alone?” he asked when I twisted
back to look up at him.

I
hesitated, wondering what he wanted. “Yeah, actually,”
I said, trying to keep my nervousness from my voice.

Strangely,
I saw Valen’s lip curl in a bit of a smile before he jerked his
head at one of the crowded taverns that lined the street. “Join
me for a drink quick.” The demon saw my hesitation and quickly
cut off my reply. “Indulge me,” he said, his deep, raspy
voice sending a quiver down my spine.

I
eyed him warily, not at all sure I should give in, but then shrugged
magnanimously and nodded. If Valen
decided to be sociable for once, well, bully for me. I made for the
tavern, its doors wide open and drow milling about the entrance,
drunkenly hugging anything that moved. Quick footwork got me through
the doors easily enough, but Valen was not so lucky. The big demon
was popular among the dark elves of the city, and he didn’t
have any magic to shake them off his trail. He was toasted and
cheered five times before he stepped through the entrance, at which
point his presence was noted by the drow packed inside, who also
toasted and cheered wildly, though I think it was more for the fact
that they liked to toast and cheer things, because the pretty
illusionist on stage, tipsy herself and not liking the attention the
demon was diverting from her, called her own name out and cheered,
successfully returning the crowd’s toasts and cheers to her.

Valen
saw me on the opposite side of the bar and slipped through the crowd
with a grace and speed that never failed to surprise me. Watching him
move, I realized that I hadn’t had a chance in hell of giving
him the slip earlier.

“Wooo,
Valen,” I cheered, dryly, twirling a finger in the air as he
neared.

“Shut
up,” he laughed, jostling me as he pushed past to lead the way
around a subtle corner I hadn’t noticed before. I
followed him to find a small, rectangular room, the three walls of
which were set with little alcoves meant to remove one from the loud
noise of the open floor in the rest of the tavern. “One sec,”
he called as he reached into one of the alcoves and hauled two
comatose drunks over his shoulders. They didn’t even groan when
he easily hefted them. “I’ll be back with the drinks
too,” he said as he walked out of the sideroom.

I
watched him slip back through the crowd again, admiring the demon’s
agility. I leaned a shoulder against the wall of the sideroom, taking
a moment to examine the tavern. Like
most drow buildings, the tavern was built vertically, the bar on the
ground level with several floors of tiered balconies. A narrow,
circular stage was placed opposite the bar, where the tipsy
illusionist seemed to have given up on trying to cast something and
was now dancing to an offbeat applause from the audience. I glanced
around at the rest of the building, taking in the carved tile around
the walls and the expensive glowshards. Graceful, fluted columns held
the staircase aloft and the continued theme of black stone on gray
found throughout the city was copied here as well. I was admittedly
surprised as the class of the building. Most surface taverns were
loud, crowded, and dirty. It seemed like this tavern normally
required a higher level of decorum than the laughing, friendly drunks
that now filled it. The dark elves were really letting go, joyfully
tossing back any drink they could get their hands on. Well, I suppose
that it did make sense that they would be so excited about it, there
couldn’t be many reasons to get boisterously
drunk when one's language had no indigenous word for 'friend.'

Whatever
passed for the tavern’s normal crowd was lost in the
celebration
as well, however. Watching two big, muscular drow women practically
devour the slender man trapped between them, I had a vague flashback
to seeing my halfling friend Tomi trapped much the same way between
two humans. The drow woman kissing the
man’s face bent her head down to chew on his neck, and I saw a
brief flash of the man’s wicked grin before the woman behind
him buried her hand in his hair and yanked his head back so she could
ravage his mouth.

It
made me wonder that perhaps this wasn’t so different from a
surface tavern after all. His grin also made me miss Tomi. A lot. My
face sank into my hands and I held it there for a moment, willing the
memories to go away. The image of when I found his body stuffed into
a chest flashed across my mind and I shuddered, sitting down in the
alcove quickly. I leaned forward
over the table, putting my head in my arms and wondering why the hell
I was feeling so emotional tonight. I usually had so much more
control. I rubbed my
cheek against my sleeve, liking the smooth feel of the
velvet-silk-whatever the fuck against my skin.

The
slam of a cup down on the mushwood table jerked me upright. Valen had
returned with two steaming flagons of hot liquor, one still in his
hand. He slid into the narrow bench across from me, the big demon
having a surprisingly easy time fitting into the little alcove. He
swung a leg up on the bench beside him, leaning back against the wall
and taking a swig of his drink.

I
hefted the flagon in front of me, sniffed, and tossed back a
mouthful, grimacing as my throat burned and my stomach roiled in
disgust. I slammed the flagon against the table and willed my body to
keep the alcohol down. Tonight seemed like a fine time to get a
little soused. I glanced at Valen again, and arched a brow at his
smirk.

“It’s
supposed to be sipped,” he said.

Shrugging
at him, I turned the cup towards me and eyed the contents. “Tastes
like shit,” I said. The demon looked surprised, so I clarified.
“All alcohol does. Never really developed a taste for it or
something, I guess. Can’t even stand wine.”

“Ah,”
was all he said. Valen glanced back at his cup, so I took the
opportunity
to slid my eyes over his profile. His pale, white skin held a tinge,
just a slight tinge, of luminescence
in the shadows, though I don’t know if it was a result of the
tavern’s lighting or I simply hadn’t noticed it before.
The demon’s copper brows were pursed in thought as he swirled
his drink around. Eventually his ice-blue eyes snapped back to mine,
but he simply stared at me for a while. Normally I would have wanted
to squirm in my seat under that gaze, but the combination of burning
alcohol in my gut and mild irritation gave me the courage to shed my
inhibitions and meet his stare head on. Around the corner I could
hear a loud argument
between two women, along with loud laughter after each angry retort.
It was a shame I couldn’t speak drow, from the sound of it the
women were pretty creative in their insults. I listened with half an
ear, wanting to crack a smile myself simply from the angry, indignant
shrieks that would occasionally sound from either woman. Something
particularly
harsh was said, which was followed with a slap and a cheer from the
crowd. I heard both women yell something again, though this time it
sounded like both had laughter in their voice and the people in the
tavern whistled and cheered.

The
distraction didn’t last long though. The
women, having had their bit of fun, were moving on, I think. My
attention went back to the silent demon sitting across the table from
me. I sighed when I realized that another full minute passed with
Valen doing nothing but eying me
over his drink. It was a shame that this wasn't one of his good days,
when he would willingly share his thoughts, or stories about his
birth-city of Sigil. I absently traced harmless runes with the hand
on my cup, letting my eyes unfocus and stared off into space.

“What
makes you so special?” Valen asked suddenly, the conversational
tone taking out any bite from his words.

I
blinked at him, my mind still processing
what he’d just said. “Beg pardon?” I asked,
uncertain of what exactly he was asking.

“You
know,” he said, gesturing with his free hand, “Why you?
What about you so suddenly turned the tide against the Valsharess?
What makes you our savior?” There was no malice or jealousy in
his voice, just a note of genuine curiosity. What really threw me
though was the question itself.

It
had come from an entirely unexpected direction. His words churned
over in my mind as I thought. What made me special? How was I
supposed to answer that? Why would I know what that something, that
something that had allowed me to prevail against plague, immortal
queens and crazed, undead
gorgons while other people failed, was? A part of me wanted to simply
shrug and point out that I was an arcane powerhouse, but I think
Valen wanted to know something
a little deeper, beyond the obvious. What it was though? The fuck if
I knew. I glanced at Valen, his attention still focused solely on me.

“Well...”
I paused, as though searching for words. “When you look this
good,” I said, shrugging, as if the answer was obvious.

It
caught Valen off
guard. A smile and part of a
snicker managed to escape before he was able to catch himself. “You
are quite the looker, Ceald, but I don’t think that’s
why.” He said it lightly, with half a smile on his face, before
he paused, looking down into the tankard and taking another hefty
swig, thankfully missing the blush that had spread across my cheeks
at his offhand remark. The demon’s bright blue eyes flicked
back to mine. “So, what is it then?” he asked,
persisting.

I
shrugged helplessly and looked away, my mouth open but unable to
think of anything to say. “I... I
don’t know,” I said, feeling a little frustrated. I don’t
know why it was me specifically who turned the tide, to me it seemed
like I was just conveniently
at hand. “It’s not like I asked to be here.” I
don’t think I would be here period, were it not for that
psychotic Archmage.

Something
I said must have riled the demon, because his eyes suddenly narrowed.
“If you weren’t bound by
geas, would you still help us?” he asked, rather pointed, a
touch of anger seeping through his voice. I felt a surge of
irritation boil upwards. So we were back to distrust then? Fine, he
could stew by himself. I made to rise, but Valen held out his hands
in an effort to placate before I could get to my feet. “No,
wait, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding contrite. His eyes
slid to the side. “I know you would.”

Confused
by the quicksilver shift in temper, I slowly settled back on the
bench, watching as Valen continued to gaze inwardly. It looked like
there would be another
one of those long pauses in conversation. I glanced down at my
flagon, still more than half-full, and tossed back another mouthful,
my tongue curling at the vile taste. Enough time had passed for me to
start eying
the drink again and start contemplating a second swallow when the
demon stirred. A small sigh drew my attention back to his face. “I
have been wrong about something,” Valen said, not quite meeting
my eyes. He leaned forward on the table, resting his weight on his
elbows. “I owe you an apology.”

“An
apology?” I asked, bemused by the abrupt
turn of conversation. I could feel my forehead screw up in confusion.
Valen thought he had to apologize? “For what?”

He
pondered for another moment, obviously going over what he meant to
say in his head. “Ever since the Seer foretold your coming, I
have resented you. A little,” he added belatedly. “I was
the one who kept us alive for months while the Valsharess hounded the
Seer's forces relentlessly. Always, through every battle, every
skirmish, I was the one who rallied our troops, led us to whatever
victory was possible against such overwhelming odds. I was the one
who kept us safe, and I did not want someone sidling in to take all
the credit. Particularly
not this 'Savior' that she had been going on about for weeks, acting
as if finding you was utterly imperative to survival of the entire
Drow race.” The demon broke
the gaze, looking away and wetting his lips before he continued. “I
convinced myself that perhaps the Seer's visions were wrong, that you
could not be trusted. It wouldn't be the first time that a creature
from the Abyss has misled mortals.” Valen met my eyes again. “I
was eager to find some sort of vindication, so the moment you
appeared in the Temple I ready to jump on the smallest slight as
reason to hate you.”

The
demon fell silent. While it was
enlightening to hear the reasons why he never trusted me, I didn’t
want to hear them like this. I didn’t like the way this made
Valen so... vulnerable. We may have butted heads, but I didn’t
want the guy to feel humiliated, so I tried to lighten the mood. “And
here I got the feeling that you just didn't like me,” I said,
letting a wry grin show.

“It’s
not true,” he said, almost softly. “I merely reserved my
judgment.” The demon looked down
at his fingers. “I hardly knew you
enough to dislike you, and now I'd find a task like that impossible.”
Valen was quiet and subdued, his voice tender. “From that first
day outwards you have done nothing but prove yourself to be one of
the most exceptional people I have ever met.”

My
toes curled in my boots as I shrank back from the raw praise. I was
trapped between staring at the demon and looking away. Hearing his
words, the direct validation that I so craved and so feared was
disarming to say the least. I tightened my grip around my cup and
gulped the rest down, using the burn to distract myself from the
affection and pride that were swelling up in my chest.

“For
what it’s worth, Ceald,” Valen said, his ice-blue eyes
piercing me so suddenly I nearly flinched. “I am sorry. I have
been unfair to you, and you did not deserve to bear the brunt of my
own frustration.”

I
could only stare at him, more than uncertain of how to respond. The
demon had a lot of pride, just as much as I did, and while I had been
angry with him at times before, after hearing his side of the
argument I just didn’t have the energy to stay mad anymore.
Especially after he bent his neck and apologized about it. I would
never do that, not for anyone. I jumped to the first thing that came
into my mind, seeking to turn this conversation from the dangerous
territory it was heading into. Something would defiantly slip if it
went that direction, and I was in no mood to have a rejection, or...
worse… seal the end of the day.

“It
wasn’t that bad. You were friendly enough, most of the time,”
I said, trying to alleviate how deeply Valen seemed to think his
hostility had affected me. I offered him a bright smile. “I
mean, you did end up sharing a lot,” I said, “And it
wasn’t like your company was unbearable, I’ve met people
far worse.”

The
demon stared down at his cup for a long, silent moment. “Your
words are kind, Ceald, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior. I
can’t help but feel that things would be different between us,
had I not treated you the way I did.”

What
really got me was how regretful he sounded that we weren’t…
closer. Nervous and unsure of how to change the subject, I decided
that I may as well just accept Valen’s apology with as much
grace as I could muster. “Thank you, Valen,” I said
quietly, “For your apology. It’s accepted, though I still
don’t feel it was necessary. I don’t resent you, or
anything,” I added quickly. “And,” I glanced away,
trying to find the right way to phrase my next few words. “And
it’s not like things can’t be different still. I mean, we
are friends now right?” I asked, eager to put a lighter spin on
things.

Valen
met my eyes finally, surprise evident on his face. I smiled weakly at
him, but it grew stronger when he smiled back. Feeling embarrassed
and wanting to move the conversation on to a lighter topic, I rubbed
my fingers against each other before I gave into my curiosity and
poked a finger into the demon’s shirt. “What are those?”
I asked. Valen looked down at my finger in confusion, so I pointed
more forcefully and said, “Your clothes, I’ve never seen
anything like them.”

“Have
you heard of Kara Tur?” Valen asked.

My
forehead wrinkled in thought as I racked my brain for anything that
sounded like that. Phonetically, I only recognized it as something
that wasn’t descended from any of the Sword Coasts peoples, and
it didn’t sound like the lilting language used in Calimsham.
“Is that part of Wa?” It was the only place I could think
of that sounded like it could be related to Kara Tur.

“The
kingdom of Wa is only an outpost of Kara Tur. Kara Tur is the entire
continent.” The demon sipped his drink. “You’ve
been to Wa, but you’ve never heard of Kara Tur?” he
asked.

I
shook my head. “Wa is nearly on the other side of the world
from the Sword Coast. I’ve only met the occasional merchant
from there, never been.”

“When
I escaped the Abyss, I found myself in Kozakura.” Seeing my
blank look he quickly clarified. “It’s another nation in
Kara Tur. This is a haori,” he said, pointing at the beautiful,
sea-green shirt. “And the leggings are called hakama. A…”
he paused, trying to find the right word. “A friend gave these
to me there. I didn’t have much other than my armor when I left
the service of my master.”

“How
did you escape the Abyss, Valen?” Not wanting to seem like I
was too invasive, I quickly added, “If you don’t mind me
asking.” I was truly curious, but I also wanted to keep
distracting him from any ill-will he thought I might bear him. “You
never did get that far.”

The
demon looked momentarily surprised at my question, but smiled gamely
and said, “It took me years to find a portal that allowed
demons physically into this realm without the aid of a summoner. I
searched many planes and cities before finding one under the keeping
of a marilith in my birth-city of Sigil.”

“Years?”
I interrupted. That acknowledgment had surprised me. “Just how
old are you Valen? I mean, if you were human, I'd say that you were
close to only twenty five.”

Valen
looked a bit sheepishly at me. “Truthfully, Ceald, I do not
know. The Blood Wars tend to blur together, and my recollection of
the events before I was forced into it are dim.” He shrugged,
then hesitantly offered, “If I had to guess, it must at least
be close to a few centuries… on the low end.” Valen
grinned at me again, resuming his original topic. “Anyways, I
did some- favors for the marilith, so she allowed me the use of her
portal. The Seer found me soon enough, and I have been serving her
ever since.”

The
demon added something else, but I wasn't listening to him. I had
caught that slight hesitation and leapt at my chance. “Favors?
What kind of favors?” I asked innocently. The hell I didn't
know exactly what he meant, but it was a rare opportunity that I
managed to turn the tables on Valen Shadowbreath.

A
muscle twitched in his cheek, and he studiously avoided my gaze. “I'd
ah, rather not say.”

Encouraged
by the alcohol in my system and the chance to needle the demon in
return, I lowered my voice and leaned forward over the table. “Oh?”
I asked. “So maybe you'd rather... show me then?”

Sure
enough, my mark had been right on. The big demon blushed, his face
almost dark enough to match the drow around us. He stared at me, his
mouth half-open, as if unsure whether he should take me seriously. It
took him a moment to compose himself before he sought his own escape
from a potentially embarrassing conversation. As if jerked out of
mid-thought, he shook his head and I caught a glint of something dark
flashing through his eyes. “Oh, if I did to you everything I
did to her, Ceald,” he said, smiling hungrily, “You’d
be ruined for anyone else.”

Normally,
his harmless flirting would catch me off guard and I’d withdraw
nervously, but desire and alcohol loosened my tongue and gave me the
courage to keep going. I sat back with a smirk and eyed Valen
appraisingly. “I don’t have a problem with that,” I
said, my body practically screaming “Fuck
me! Fuck me fuck me fuck me!”

The
demon didn’t take my invitation, much to my disappointment.
Instead, he stuck his tongue in his cheek and bit back the grin that
I could see was forming, and took a long sip from his flagon. After
a moment of quiet, he spoke. “Strangely enough,” he
offered, changing the subject, “I don't think my leadership
would have been possible were it not for my demonic heritage-”
Valen stopped short and looked at me warily, as if he thought he had
made some egregious error. “You... know what a tiefling is?”

Feeling
pretty good with the slight touch of euphoria in my blood, I couldn’t
resist ribbing the demon again. “Someone
with a handsome set of horns?” I teased.

He
nearly blushed, raising one hand tugging on a horn as he struggled
for words. “You jest of course.”

“I
like em,” I declared. “They make you look rough,”
I added brightly, growling just a bit at the end there. Opps. That
seriously
kinda slipped out. I normally didn’t
drink this much, or anything so strong. My head was started to feel
pleasantly cloudy and I knew I should rein my tongue in, but
something about the demon just made me… want.

Valen's
cheeks had darkened considerably, his blush turning his skin nearly
ash gray. “Uh, thank you,” he said, after his mouth
worked silently for a moment. He cleared his throat, trying switch
back to the topic at hand. “But do you know what I am truly?”

I
paused in thought, considering. I had encountered a tiefling before,
an elven one named J'Nah. In fact, it was because of her diabolical
intent that Master Drogan was injured, and I was sent out to recover
some stolen artifacts for the Harpers in his place. It was really
because of her that I started in on the journey that led me to become
the Hero of the Annouroch.
She had been power-hungry and foolish, biting off more than she could
chew and sealing her own death. A few months after Undrentide, when I
was traveling through Luskan I met a man who reeked of the Hells.
His companion had called him a tiefling as well, though he did not
share the horns or pallor that J’Nah and Valen had. I didn’t
get a chance to speak with him before the Luskan guard burst into the
tavern, shouting orders and hassling the patrons, which of course
lead to rioting in the streets and the tiefling-man escaping in the
chaos.

So,
basically, no, I didn’t. “A demon?” I said weakly.

He
cleared his throat again and shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat.
“Um, not exactly. My mother was the daughter of an alu-fiend,
the child of a succubus and an elven mortal. She bore the child of a
cambion, a half-human demon.” His face grew troubled. “That
child was me, and I have more than just a touch of demonic ichor in
my veins. Does this bother you?” Valen’s face was tense
and guarded, the demon obviously willing and ready to lash out.

I
blinked at him, not really understanding why he’d gotten so
defensive. “No. Should it?”

My
response seemed to hang in the air between us, since Valen
looked momentarily perplexed by my response. The demon gave me a
long, slow smile after the words sank in. “No. No, it
shouldn't,” he said, glancing away, a pleased smile on his
face. Somehow, I got the feeling that it wasn’t what he had
expected me to say, although I didn’t fully understand why I
thought
that. In the conversational lull, I could see a palpable tension
visibly drain from from his shoulders. Tapping his toe, I grinned
when his eyes slid back to me. I couldn't help it, I was happy that I
had at least resolved this much.

“So
the drow embraced this?” I prompted.

Valen
flicked his eyes to the side, his mouth
pursing in thought as he tried to find more appropriate
words. “Embraced isn’t quite the right word.” He
drummed his fingers on the table as he mused. “The drow respect
strength and force. My blood is proof enough of strength, and,”
Valen grinned a little sheepishly, “My temper cowed the rest.”

Remembering
the sheer intensity in his angry glare during the battle, I had to
agree that big demon could easily scare the dark elves in his command
into obedience.
“I can see why,” I said. His eyes were bad enough
normally, but when he was angry... damn.

He
shrugged and looked away, his face flushing in embarrassment. “It’s
nothing compared to when I was fresh from the Hells. The taint of the
Blood Wars is hard to overcome.”

I
leaned forward, curious to hear more. Valen rarely spoke of his time
in the Blood Wars. “Do all demons
fight in those?” I asked, wanting to know more about his time
in the Abyss.

The
demon ignored my question, choosing to give me a flat stare instead.
“I’m a tiefling,” he corrected.

I
nodded. “Right,” I said, not
seeing the difference, and personally observing that the word
tiefling sounded a little effeminate.

Valen
rolled his eyes in exasperation, even though I could see his mouth
quirk in a smile. “I’m not a
demon. I’m a tiefling.” He seemed adamant that I grasp
the difference.

More
than a little amused, I cocked my head at him, enjoying this little
game. “And how is that not a
demon?” I asked.

He
looked away, trying, almost successfully, to hide his smirk.
“Tieflings are only part demon,” he said, as though that
was argument enough. It seemed to me that he didn’t have much
to go on. It was like saying drow weren’t elves because they
were an offshoot. I grinned, having no qualms against beating Valen
so easily.

That
wasn’t to say I wouldn’t have some fun first. I
glanced purposefully at his head. “You have horns and a tail,”
I countered.

Valen
scowled at me. “Your dragon has a
tail and horns. Does that make him a demon too?”

“No,
because he tastes like sparkles when you lick him.” My eyelids
lowered and I tilted my head back invitingly. Licking my lips, I made
sure Valen could see my open appraisal of his body. “What do
you taste like Valen?” I asked, giving the demon a naughty,
come hither look.

It
was only after the words has slipped my lips that I realized just how
blatant
that offer was. My brain caught up with my mouth and I flushed
mightily, surprised that I’d had the audacity to be so forward.
Fortunately, the demon wasn’t able to take notice, since his
face had flushed too and his tongue was buried in his cheek. I
couldn’t tell what he thought of what I’d said, but I
felt more than a little relieved that he seemed to think of it as a
joke.

He
seemed to regain control of himself, studiously not looking me in the
eyes as his mouthed worked a couple times before he managed to speak.
“Dare I ask how you know what he
tastes like?” he needled, a smile on the
edge of his lips.

I
huffed dramatically, eager to distract Valen from taking anything I
said too seriously. “First, it was
years ago, and second, it was the only way to get him to stop licking
me.”

The
demon laughed out loud at my angry quip. “Hah, Ceald,”
he laughed, about to say more when the noise in the tavern suddenly
increased. He tried to speak over the din, but even two feet away
from him I could hardly hear even the mumble of his voice. Curious as
to the reason the crowd had gotten so loud, I stood and peered around
the corner to see the little stage packed with dancing women, all of
them incredibly drunk and in various states of undress. Everyone not
on the stage was crowing at the top of their lungs, whistling and
cheering the women on. The noise only got louder, even when a few of
the drow on stage stumbled and fell off.

I
felt someone’s hot body press against my back, violating only a
thousand rules about personal space and I looked up over my shoulder
to see Valen leaning over me to watch the drunken drow continue to
go all out. He bent down to place his
mouth dangerously close to my ear. “Are you terribly interested
in this?” he asked.

The
way he asked it made the question seem loaded with weight. Did he
mean the show, or the women in particular? Watching him warily from
the corner of my eye, I considered how to respond. “Not
terribly,” I answered, noncommittal.

Perhaps
it was just the light, but I thought I saw the corners of his lips
curve up. “Let’s go someplace quieter then,” he
said, moving past me to clear a path through the crowd.

Apparently
“someplace quieter” was just the roof of the bar. After
the demon had shouldered his way through the packed drow, which was
admittedly a lot faster than trying to find a path on my own, Valen
had lead me around the corner of the building to find a tight
staircase carved into the back wall of the tavern. The roof, like
almost every other building in the city, was flat, with a short wall
around the edges. We were currently sitting on it, our feet dangling
over the crowded plaza below, and I have to say that it would have
been quite pleasant had anything been said in the last ten minutes.

That’s
not to say I hadn’t been trying to think of a way to break the
ice that had suddenly formed. Nothing had come to mind, so I was more
or less at a loss for what to do, particularly
because I didn’t really understand why
Valen had become so unapproachable. I closed my eyes for a moment and
tried to will the demon to say something, anything.

We
continued to sit in silence, however, and I couldn’t help but
feel there was this yawning chasm opening up between us. I was
desperate to cross that gap, but I didn’t know how. Hearing the
demon’s side of the story had shown me a hidden
side of the man that I had only caught glimpses of before, the part
that was deep, reflective, and insightful. That, more than anything
else, made him seem so human that I found myself sympathizing with
him. These drow, the Seer’s rag-tag group of rebels, must have
been some of the first people to actually accept him, yet here I was,
by sheer coincidence, receiving
their adulation. I swallowed heavily, the choker around my neck
suddenly way too tight, my heart aching at the thought that I had
been so callous in disregarding Valen’s point of view earlier.
It wasn’t just the fact that I was sweet on him, I honestly
felt bad that I could so absentmindedly grind salt in another’s
wound.

I
chewed the inside of my cheek before I wound up the courage to break
the heavy silence. “Valen-”
I began, pausing when the demon cocked his head towards me. “About
what you asked me earlier... what makes me special,” I glanced
away from him, finding it much easier to speak if I was looking at my
fingers. “I just... try to do what’s right. That’s
all.” Tyr’s heart, that sounded so trite. “I
mean...” I trailed off, shrugging helplessly as I searched for
the right words. “I have the power to help people, so when
someone needs it,” I shrugged again. “I help them.”
I couldn’t think of a better way to explain this... impulsive
drive I had inside. It was simply too much a part of who
I was that I was at a loss to explain it in better terms. My eyes
slid back to Valen, hoping that he’d give me at least some
indication of whether he understood, but he only continued to stare
down at the crowd below. I couldn’t even tell if he had
listened to all that I’d said.

The
silence was nearly deafening. “And I never meant to steal your
thunder or anything. Tyr knows that I’d be dead without you
there at my back,” I added after a moment of casting about for
something to say. Valen didn’t even acknowledge me though. The
palpable silence was starting to feel oppressive,
and I worried my lip in thought. I looked down at the crowd below,
then back at the demon, my mouth working but no words coming out. I
hooked a finger behind the emerald on my choker and rubbed the gem
with my thumb, starting to feel a little desperate. I didn’t
want to lose what ground I’d gained with him, it was simply too
nice to be able to talk to him, sit with him as a friend. Finally,
with no other options in sight, I spoke. “You can have the
choker, if you want.”

It
was stupid to offer. I knew that there wasn’t a chance of the
demon accepting it, Valen wasn’t that petty, but I couldn’t
think of anything else to say that would get a response out of him.
Indeed, the demon glanced back at me,
some emotion I couldn’t identify on his face. His eyes slid
from my face to my neck and back, his piercing gaze slicing straight
to my core. “No, no,” he said, glancing away just as
quickly. “I can’t think of anyone more deserving, Ceald.”
He spoke in that same, tender voice he’d used in the tavern. He
watched himself rub his thumb against the palm of his hand before he
added, “Forgive me, you’ve just given me a lot to think
about.”

“Oh,”
I said simply, relieved that he’d finally spoken. I watched him
stare down at the plaza from the corner of my eye for a few minutes
before I accepted that he really was just in a contemplative mood.
Taking one last look around the roof, I decided that maybe it was
time to call it a night and go cuddle Oerth. I stood, and one last
thought popped into my head. “Still friends though?” I
asked, just to make sure.

Valen
glanced up at me, a small smile flickering
on the edges of his lips. “Of course, Ceald.”

Feeling
better, I returned his smile with one of
my own and nodded slightly. “Night, Valen,” I said,
walking slowly over to the staircase, my thoughts already starting to
drift with the lack of pressure to keep them focused. This night had
definitely
turned out far better than I had hoped. Nathyrra had given me a gift
that I still had no idea of any way to repay her for, and the Seer
had, in her own, beautiful, subtle way, reminded me that perhaps I
wasn’t so alone as I sometimes felt. The best part of my
evening though, was that I had smoothed over the problems with Valen,
and I daresay the demon seemed almost willing to open up to me now,
or at least, consider the possibility.
There was a definite
bounce to my step as I crossed the roof, but I still slowed halfway
to glance back at Valen, who was sitting still on the edge of the
roof, his tail hardly even twitching.

Sighing,
I started walking again, trying to think about anything but Valen. My
familiar would be grumpy at me coming home so late, and a flutter of
amusement rose at the thought of an ornery little dragon curled on my
pillow. The fey creature would likely give me the cold shoulder until
I had to feed him in the morning, when he would be all cuddles and
mewls. Lost in thought, I nearly leapt out of my skin at the feel of
fingers closing around my arm. I jerked around, only to see Valen
standing there, staring at me. Asco’s
tainted blood, I thought, my heart
pounding, he has got to stop doing
that. Facing him wasn’t much
better though. His eyes were charged, intense, and he was doing that
damn thing again, that thing where he stood way too close and
intimidated me with the sheer size of his body.

The
demon’s sheer presence was enough to jolt me out of the
feel-good state I was in and thrust me back into the state of
desperate arousal that had been building all night. My mind
immediately conjured glimpses of erotic fantasies where Valen simply
took me then and there in a thousand different ways. Breathing
heavily, it was a struggle to keep the
nervous tremor from my voice, but I had to say something before I
lost control and just started grinding against him. Standing this
close to him, when I was so aware of his body, the heat radiating
from it, was more than pushing the boundaries
of self-control. “Need something?” I asked, a bit
harshly, fearing that the longer I stayed the closer I’d come
to throwing the demon down and ravaging him mercilessly.

Valen’s
cold, ice-blue eyes narrowed, his ability to pin with his gaze the
only thing keeping my free hand from sliding into the open V of his
haori. “Ceald,” he said,
glancing away for a second, before his eyes returned, hard and
challenging.
“I have something to say.”

His
velvety, raspy, masculine
voice trilled in my ears and sent shivers down my spine, and I felt
my control start to slip a little more. Past the point of fear, and
losing what little rational thought I had left, my chin rose as I met
his stare evenly, rising to the challenge.
“Shoot,” I drawled, not about to back down.

I
was startled to see that Valen did though. “Look,”
the demon said, casting his eyes to the side. “I know that
we’ve not known each other for very long, but I've...” he
paused, licking his lips, “Come to feel…
quite…” Valen slowed, still not meeting my gaze, my mind
suddenly locked up with sudden realization.
“Quite strongly for you,” he finished slowly. When I
didn’t say anything, the demon slid his eyes back to mine, and
he appeared startled to see me so speechless. He must have read
something
from my face, because an appraising glint entered his eyes, his
entire face darkening as the demon’s keen intelligence came
into play. I trembled as his mouth curved into a wicked grin. I
almost stepped backwards, but Valen tightened
his grip on my arm and leaned in close, keeping his eyes on mine.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the hints you’ve
been dropping all night,” he growled, his free hand gripping my
hip to tug me close. “Am I so wrong to think you want this
too?”

Stunned,
my thoughts jerked about in my head, until I was able to finally ask,
“Why?”

“Ceald,”
Valen said, the sound of my name in his
voice making me twitch, “I’m saying this because I don’t
want you to think this is going to be a one-night stand.”

It
wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but the demon had leaned
in to brush his cheek over mine, which destroyed what few fragile
thoughts I had left. “I don’t
understand,” I said desperately, absorbed in the friction
of his skin against mine.

The
demon let out a long breath and pulled back, meeting my eyes with a
look that was probably meant to be reassuring, but all he did was
pierce my soul with his otherworldly
glare. “Look,” Valen said again. “I like you.”
His voice was fierce, adamant. “I like being around you,”
he said, his eyes finally breaking from mine to slide down my chest
and over my groin. “And your body...” he practically
snarled, his hand on my hip tightening. The demon seemed to get ahold
of himself then, a tiny flicker of uncertainty flitting across his
face once more. “So, you and me,” he challenged
again. “What do you say?”

I
stared at him, my mouth working for a moment before I got back a bit
of control. I grinned. “Yeah,” I said simply, unable to
think of anything else. I was rewarded with Valen’s long, slow
grin, and a tug that pulled me into his body.

His
left arm circled my waist, clutching me
tight against his fighter's physique. My cheeks flushed when I
realized just how thin his shirt was, just how hot his skin was, and
just how hard the planes of his chest were. Valen was oblivious
to it all though, tilting my head slightly with his right hand,
giving me a small, almost shy, smile before leaning in to kiss me.
Unsure of myself, I hesitated before pressing my lips to his. He was
softer, gentler than I had expected. I couldn’t think of
anything beyond the touch of smooth lips against mine, and then the
demon’s mouth opened to let his tongue slip out and graze my
lips. I parted them, mindlessly, wrapped up in the sensation of his
tongue entering my mouth ever so slowly. I was lost, willing to do
anything he wanted, but he refrained from seizing control and
dominating the kiss entirely. As time passed by, however, the kiss
grew heated, passionate, as I plied Valen's mouth with light touches
and he plundered mine. Fuck it,
I decided, digging a hand into the hair that I've wanted to run my
fingers through for so long, tracing the face that haunted my
fantasies.

An
idle part part of my mind, not occupied by the wondrousness
of the kiss questioned whether Valen knew what he was doing to me.
Never before had I felt a warmth as profound as this suffuse my
being, spread so quickly throughout my system. I pulled away from his
mouth to gaze into his eyes, that shy grin still intact on his face.
He was completely oblivious to the blood that pounded in my veins,
leaning forward for another kiss as though there were no greater
object in the world.

His
left hand slipped from the small of my back to cup
my ass.

…
Okay, maybe his intentions weren't so
innocent after all.

+=======+

So…
yeah. I think we all know where this is going. If you read this,
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Ceald Amothien