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Moments in the Sun	By : Shebagirly Category: +M through R > Neverwinter Nights Views: 2345 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights or any of its characters. I make no money off of this story. This is my first adult fic so I welcome all reviews!

Chapter List
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Leona had to do some damage control, and fast. She and Khelgar were headed to the Ironfist clan tomorrow, and he’d requested that they bring Casavir and Sand along. In his words, “They’re the least crazy among us, lass.” She kind-of agreed, but kept it to herself.
“At the least,” she’d replied, “the least likely to offend your clan.” So there it was. She had to figure out how to mend up Casavir’s feelings in just a few hours, or it was going to be a long trek down to the Ironfist caves.
She strode over to his table. Sir Nevalle was already getting out of his seat when she got there; they exchanged pleasantries and he said his goodbyes. He’s sure good at reading people, she thought. Guess that’s how you get to be one of the Neverwinter Nine. Reading Casavir wasn’t easy, but she knew him well enough to know he’d be upset after Bishop’s barbs. Truth was, she was surprised he hadn’t bounded out of his chair and challenged him right then and there. He seemed to think protecting her honor was his job.
“Casavir.”
“Knight Captain.” The way Bishop said her title dripped with sarcasm. Casavir’s tone hurt more. It was fully respectful, and flat. As if they’d just met. Ouch.
Leona’s mind raced. She didn’t owe him an apology, and didn’t want to be belligerent. Was there another way to come to terms?
“I have a question for you.”
His eyes looked up from his ale, surprised. He too had expected either a plea for forgiveness, or a combative remark.
“Yes?”
"Khelgar wants you with us tomorrow for the Ironfist mission. Will you come?"
“Yes.”
Well, this wasn’t going as planned. One-word answers weren’t going to break down the wall. She paused.
“Will you be able to do your job while angry at me?”
“Who says I’m angry with you, Milady?”
“Come on, Casavir, it’s written all over your face. Bishop’s a bastard and everyone knows it.”
He stared at her, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “How could you care for that…that…” He struggled for a word low enough to describe what he thought of Bishop.
Leona’s first instinct was to defend Bishop, or herself. She could say something like as Captain it was her duty to care for all people, to which Casavir would ask if she was sleeping with all of them, too. She could say she didn’t care for him, which would be a lie. She could say nothing, and that too would be trouble.
“It’s over. Behind me.” She reached for his hand across the table, which was new because they rarely touched. As she reached she was thinking it funny that she never felt Bishop’s hand in hers, ever. Even today when he was showing her something, he pulled her along, or ordered her forward. Oh yes, his hands were on her; she knew what they were like. But hand-holding was for lovers. It was for hope, and future, and all the things she couldn’t afford right now. She pulled back and looked up. “I’m looking ahead now. Will you come with me?”
“I said I would.”
“No, I don’t mean tomorrow. I mean as I look ahead, away from today.”
He looked her square in the eyes. “I don’t know. Now I really don’t know, anymore.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said. She shook her head, then, contrite. “I suppose I seem dirty to you now. You just have to understand that…”
“No,” he interrupted her. “No, that’s not it. No.” He glanced towards the door. “In fact, I think you probably made him cleaner.” It was a kind thing to say, a big thing. It begged for the same, and Leona chose her words carefully.
“I’m so very sorry if I hurt you, Casavir.” She wouldn’t apologize for the day; it was glorious.
“I believe you. But you can’t take it back.”
“I wouldn’t.”
He studied her again, puzzled.
“I see.”
“But like I said, it’s behind me.”
He stood. “I…I have some thinking to do. I’m going to the temple. Tell Khelgar I will be ready tomorrow, hammer and shield in hand.”
“Pray for our souls,” Leona said.
“I will,” he said, “but I’m going there to pray for my own.” His face blank as usual, he nodded to the companions and left without another word. Leona squared her shoulders, grabbed his half-full ale, and joined the gossip of the companions. Playing this role was hard work, and she was back to it in earnest. She was talking and listening, but her mind was on the waterfall, the feel of Bishop’s hands holding her still, and Casavir’s sad eyes.
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