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Coming home had always been her goal. Right from that first moment she woke up on the nautiloid. Home. Other goals had come, some more urgent, some more important, but underneath all of it - home had been her target, as sure as an arrow from a bow. Alyria wasn’t quite there yet, but as they had stepped out of the wilderness and crossed the border into the edge of what had once been her whole world, something felt wrong. There was a hollowness in her chest. It was as if she'd leapt, expecting solid ground beneath her feet, but found that instead it creaked and crumbled under her weight. But, she reminded herself, this wasn't really home, not yet. Not properly. Maybe it would be different after they reached the walls. Maybe.
Rivington looked smaller somehow, perhaps it was the sheer number of people. Perhaps it was just in comparison to Moonrise Towers. Perhaps it was just that she’d remembered it wrong.
It had settled something in her to see the tieflings here in Rivington. Here and safe. Well, safe as they could be with people shouting that Baldur’s Gate was for Baldurians and other nonsense phrases.
Seeing Bex and Danis and the kids – not everyone, but even those few – had been enough to make her relax just a little. Something good had come of what she’d done. Alyria had been afraid that she’d arrive in Baldur’s Gate just to find them all in another mire of trouble – locked up by Gortash, or victims of Orin’s blade – but here they were. Some of them.
She wondered where the others were. No one had mentioned any trouble on the road, so she imagined they’d at least got here safe, too. Perhaps some of them had made it over the crossing and into The Gate. She hoped so.
She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Gale, but there was a gap where he usually stood. Astarion was with her, Jaheira, too, Karlach and Wyll wandered a little further away. Shadowheart and her new hair had stayed to pack up their camp with Halsin – who seemed reluctant to enter the village at all – but Gale had come with them. He’d been right beside her.
It wasn’t rational to panic. But after Orin’s little introduction earlier, her heart beat in double time. If she’d been caught up in her own thoughts so badly that she’d missed him being taken...
“Where did–?” she started.
“The wizard’s talking to the child still,” Astarion said. “Probably being taken for all he’s got. Those children are far sharper than they look, even without their little ringleader”
Sure enough, as she turned back to where Mattis was standing, she saw Gale handing over some gold to him and winced. Gale didn't strike her as the best negotiator, and Astarion was right about the kids, they were as vicious at turning a profit as the worst scam artists in the Gate. But better Mattis than some stranger who was part of the anti refugee movement. It wasn’t like they didn’t have gold – more gold than Alyria had ever seen in her life before. Enough gold that they could afford whatever scam Mattis was pulling. She doubted Gale was paying for something frivolous, anyway. A book, maybe, or a scroll she hadn’t noticed when she’d seen the kid’s wares before.
She waited, looking around at the huts the refugees were living in. She'd been afraid life wouldn't be as good for the tieflings as they'd dreamed when they reached their destination, but she hadn't imagined this. She loved the city, but sometimes she hated it too. Having been away made the whole place seem fresh to her eyes. It wasn't a good look.
“Baldur's Gate for Baldurians,” she scoffed. “What does that even mean?”
“It means people are arseholes,” Karlach spat.
“People are scared,” Jaheira corrected. “And they are arseholes.”
“It's Gortash,” Wyll said, his voice sad. “It has to be. He's turning the people against each other.”
“Baldur’s Gate has always been a city divided,” Jaheira went on. “He's taking advantage of divisions that already existed.”
“I don't know why you're all so surprised,” Astarion said, looking around them. “Seems like a typical Baldur's Gate welcome to me.”
“It's never been this bad!” Alyria protested. “Why isn't the Temple helping? I can't imagine Father Lorgan just letting this happen without even trying to help, but I haven't seen a single person from the Temple anywhere around.”
“You think the gods are going to step in?” Astarion asked, his tone dripping with derision. “Because they’ve been such a great help so far.”
“Not the gods, but the priests of Ilmater are usually doing something,” Alyria protested. “I've worked with them before, when people needed healing or somewhere to stay. My father grows them herbs for their potions.”
“Well, they're not here now,” Astarion said, spreading his hands. “Unless they're all invisible. Everyone disappoints you in the end.”
“They might already have too many mouths to feed,” Jaheira said. “There are a lot of people here.”
“Perhaps,” Alyria said. “But we have to go there anyway to hand over that amulet from Grymforge. I guess we'll see then.” She sighed, looking around. “This just isn't what I expected.”
Gale had just caught up with them and looked at her.
“I was going to ask if you were glad to be home,” he said. “But I think perhaps that answers the question.”
“I'm not home yet,” Alyria said. “This is Rivington, not The Gate.” Gale blinked at her.
“There's… a difference?”
She stared at him.
“Of course there's a difference,” Karlach said before Alyria could reply. “We're not even north of the river yet!”
“Rivington’s completely different,” Alyria told him in astonishment. “It's a village. And no, Wyrm's Crossing isn't The Gate either, before you ask. You're not really in Baldur's Gate until you reach Sow's Foot. There are fields between us and there.”
“Some people say you're not really in the Gate til you're inside the walls,” Karlach added.
Alyria rolled her eyes. “Patriars who don't like anyone who doesn't look or sound like them,” she said with a disgusted shake of her head. “They're the ones I'd expect this nonsense from. Baldur's Gate for bloody Baldurians indeed.
“What even is a Baldurian? My father's lived here for 200 years. He's probably been here longer than most of those people who are threatening refugees, but he wasn't born here; he grew up in the Wealdath. My mum's family have lived here for as long as we know on her mother's side, but her father's family only came here during the Spellplague, when they were refugees. Uncle Anvin’s great-grandmother was an adventurer from bloody Luiren! Half of the people in the Gate came here from somewhere else – or their parents did.
“Where do people think Little Calimshan got its name? Do they think Balduran himself was born here? It's totally ridiculous. If you live in Baldur's Gate, you're a Baldurian. Anyone who says otherwise is an idiot who doesn't understand a gods-damned thing!”
“Well said,” Wyll agreed.
“It's a fucking mess.”
“It's politics,” Jaheira said. “People will always mistrust the outsider.”
“Gortash is turning people against each other so they'll pay no attention to his own intentions,” Gale agreed. “It's an old trick: divide and conquer – and it's clearly working.”
“Just because he's responsible doesn't mean they should be let off the hook!” Alyria protested. “They're threatening innocent people.”
“They're afraid,” Jaheira said. “Everyone is talking about Absolute spies. People do foolish things when they are afraid. It does not excuse them, but it does explain. If we were to fight all the fools in the world, there would be no time for anything else.”
“And they're not wrong to be scared with Orin running around stealing people's faces,” Wyll added.
Alyria winced and let out the breath that had been stuck in her lungs.
“You're right,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “I just wish– It doesn't matter. We need to keep looking around and find out what's going on. We know where Gortash is, obviously, but we’ve got no idea what Orin’s up to – except for bothering us.”
As the others headed on, through the ramshackle huts of the refugee encampment, Alyria fell behind a little, looking around at a Rivington that was both the same as she remembered, and different. Finding the tieflings had settled one part of her, but another was more shaken than ever.
She'd thought it would feel comforting to be back in a familiar place, and it was… sort of. It was comforting that she didn’t have to fumble around making a map in her head of their journey, worrying that every next turn might take them to a dead end, or a chasm, or some new monster. But there was something hollow in her chest.
All these people, and none of them really knew the horrors that were coming for them – that were already in here with them. So many petty problems and quiet lives. She would have been one of them, if that nautiloid hadn't snatched her up. She would have been dodging through crowds on her way to deliver a message or look for someone or something. She would have been trying to help the refugees, probably. But she would have assumed that someone else was handling the bigger picture.
And now she was the one handling the bigger picture. She'd seen the Blood War in person. She'd defied the commandments of gods. She'd battled an avatar of the Lord of Bones himself. And these people had no clue what was going on.
Alyria envied them.
Oh but she'd love to just curl up in her bedroll and wake up tomorrow in her cramped flat above the butcher's shop and leave all of this up to someone else. She wished she could visit her parents and drink her father's tea and sit with her mother beneath the trees and let them tell her everything was going to be alright. If she could do that and keep Gale, keep her friends free and safe, she'd do it in a heartbeat.
Impossible in so many ways. Not least because even before everything, her mother would have told her that the best way to deal with problems was to do something about them. She'd offer a comforting hug, but then she would have taken Alyria by the shoulders and said ‘what are you going to do about it?’ Her father would have been gentler, but his message would have been much the same thing: if people need help, help them.
Someone around here must be organising things for the refugees. If she found them, maybe she could help. They did have a lot of gold.
“You seem far more pensive than I would have expected,” Gale said. He'd slowed to keep her company. “Are you truly not a little pleased to be home..”
“It's not home, it's Rivington,” Alyria reminded him, though her heart wasn't in it.
“My apologies, but you still know this place. You don’t find it a relief?”
“It hurts,” Alyria admitted. “To see it like this. And it makes everything else that's happened more real. Before, sometimes I woke up thinking it was all a dream. But now we're here and I can't keep it all separate any more. The Absolute, the Dead Three, all of it is really real. The people in danger are people I've known all my life. Orin is a nightmare walking the streets that I grew up in and I'm.. I'm not the same person who left.
“It’s like two completely different worlds have somehow crashed into each other.”
Gale hummed and nodded.
“What were you talking to Mattis about anyway?” she asked before he could probe any deeper into thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on. “I didn't think he had any scrolls you'd be interested in.”
“Not a scroll, but he did have a little trinket that caught my eye when he was showing you his wares earlier,” Gale said, his hand reaching into his pack.“I had intended to give it to you later –” Alyria’s feet stopped in place and she turned to him with wide, unbelieving eyes as he continued talking, “–you know how much I love big gestures – but perhaps now would be a more apt time. I don’t pretend it can help much with your inner turmoil, but I would–”
“You bought me something?” Alyria said slowly. Gale broke off.
“Yes, I’d intended it as a surprise.”
“You bought me a gift?” Alyria asked. She knew she sounded stupid, he’d already said so after all, but she still wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“Yes.”
“Oh…” she said. “Really?”
“Is it really so difficult to conceive of?”
“I just… Why?”
“Because I thought you might like it, and… well, I won’t lie, to give myself a little peace of mind, I will admit. But mostly because I saw it and I knew that it belonged with you,” Gale paused, he pulled something from his pouch and Alyria saw a glint of gold between his fingers. “I have no idea how Mattis got his hands on it, honestly. It’s far more magical than most of what he had.”
“Probably best not to ask,” Alyria commented. She couldn’t quite take her eyes off that little glint of gold. She really hadn’t expected him to buy her anything at all.
“Probably not,” he agreed with a smile. “I’m sure it was entirely above board. But the matter stands that he did get his hands on it, and it seemed… well… it seemed like fate itself might have dropped it in our path.” Gale held out his hand to her, revealing an intricate necklace of gold and amethysts, the metal shaped into delicate feathers framing the gems. Even from this distance she could tell the craftsmanship was impeccable and she could feel the gentle hum of magic.
“What does it do?”
“Ah,” Gale grinned. “That’s what drew me to it. It’s imbued with the magic of the Raven Queen.”
“The Raven Queen,” Alyria’s eyebrows flew up. “She was the one who sent He Who Was. I’m not sure–”
“I would not judge her based on his actions. She is… an enigma, though not an evil one by all accounts. I cannot argue her motives as I’m not sure anyone understands them, even her worshippers, but her domain is death and memory. Though even if you do not hold with her, I would not let that deter you from taking advantage of what this offers. Ravens are her servants and her eyes and ears. This amulet is more concerned with them than with her godly powers. It will even grant you the ability to turn into one, should you wish.”
“Turn into a raven?” Alyria asked, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. Whatever she had thought he would say, it wasn’t that.
Corva came to rest beside her on the ground, looking up with interest.
“And allow you to leap or fly a little further, which will perhaps come in useful, as I’m sure you intend to reacquaint yourselves with the city's roofs sooner rather than later.”
She laughed.
“And that leads us to its third function, which is, I admit, the one I perhaps am most partial to…”
“And that is?”
“You will be permanently under the effects of a Feather Fall spell,” Gale told her. “Should you ever fall when I am not close enough to catch you.”
Alyria blinked in total surprise.
“He makes good points,” Corva said. “And if you were a raven, you could not fall anyway. You should take it. It is a very good courting gift. And it will keep you safe,”
“I’ve been climbing around Baldur’s Gate since I was old enough to walk. I haven’t broken my neck yet.” She pretended to be insulted, but mostly to cover the fact that she didn’t know what to say otherwise. It wasn’t just a pretty necklace because he wanted her to look pretty. When he said it had made him think of her, he’d meant it made him think of her – not just her looks, or her as in his lover, but Alyria. He’d thought about who she was and what she wanted. Perhaps the practicalities should have made it less sweet, but oddly they made it feel more romantic. It was a gift specifically for her. If he’d given it to anyone else it wouldn’t have meant as much.
She realised that her hand was shaking and she balled it into a fist. It was just a present, she really shouldn’t have this knot in her throat. She’d been given presents before.
“You were never previously the target of enemies such as we have cultivated in these past months,” Gale reminded her. “I cannot always promise to be within reach of you, but with this I can at least offer a little protection when I am not.”
“You don’t need to…”
“Let me,” he cut her off, his voice low but firm. “Please.”
“I haven’t got anything for you,” she protested weakly, and he stared at her in utter astonishment.
“Within mere days of knowing each other, you gave me valuable magical items that you knew would be rendered worthless, without even asking why. And since then, you have never stopped giving me all kinds of things I couldn’t hope to repay.”
“You don’t need to repay anything,” she protested.
“And you don’t need to repay this,” Gale told her, with the satisfaction of someone whose point had been proven. “It is a gift, freely given, and as I have said, more than a little self-serving on my part.”
“Thank you,” Alyria said. She looked at the amulet again as the amethysts caught the light. “I could really turn into a raven?”
“A dire raven,” Gale agreed. “Nothing so impressive as Corva, of course.” He nodded to her and Corva preened a little.
“Of course.”
“But a dire raven all the same.”
“We could fly together,” Corva said. “You could fly properly.”
“I’d have wings,” Alyria said. She’d never really thought that would be possible. Even though she knew it could be with magic. She was no druid, her abilities were far weaker, so even if she’d had a few dreams of being a bird, they’d always seemed out of reach. She held out her hand for the gift and Gale cleared his throat.
“Perhaps you might permit me,” he said, his fingers finding the clasp and undoing it. “If you could turn around?”
“Oh…” she paused for a second, not really understanding what he was asking. He lifted the chain, one eyebrow raised with an air of amusement. Realisation dawned. Slowly she pivoted, turning her back to him and sweeping her hair away from her neck.
The delicate metal was still warm from his hand as he laid it gently around her neck. She shivered slightly as his fingers brushed against her skin to fasten it, letting her take the slight weight of it. The largest of the gems nestled against the hollow of her throat and a string of amethysts slid beneath the neck of her armour, finding the dip between her breasts. Its touch was as soft as the brush of a feather.
She could feel the magic as it surrounded her, a little like that rush of flying in her chest, a little like the lightness of Feather Fall surrounding her. It didn’t feel quite the same as Gale’s magic – not as warm or as Gale – but maybe that was just her imagination.
There was the lightest press of fingers against the back of her neck, over where the clasp must lie. It wasn't particularly intimate, but it felt almost like a kiss and Alyria knew she was blushing again. She needed to get a hold of herself. It was one thing to be a blushing idiot back on the road, but here among people again she’d need to at least pretend to be an adult about things.
“Exactly where it belongs,” Gale told her with a smile as she turned back to him. “It cannot truly compare to your beauty, of course, but–” She pushed him gently, looking around at the people still milling about.
“Not here,” she said. It would be too much right now to have him give her this and more compliments. “Please?” Gale cut himself off and she stepped up to him, rising up on the balls of her feet and wrapping her arms around him in an almost tentative hug. It took him a second to soften into it, his arms coming around her in turn. “Thank you,” she whispered into the air by his ear.
“You are most welcome.” He said back, tightening his arms around her a little more.
“Aw!” Karlach’s voice came from a little distance away. “Hugs! Can I join?”
Gale chuckled and they pulled apart.
“Of course you can,” Alyria said and that was all that was needed before two huge, hot arms were wrapped around her, squeezing just on the edge of too tight and she was lifted entirely off her feet. Karlach swung her to and fro for a second, feet dangling like a ragdoll’s, before releasing her and turning to Gale, who looked a little alarmed by the whole proceeding as she did the same to him.
“Don’t. Even. Think about it,” Astarion said as Karlach turned to him.
“Fi-ine,” Karlach said, a little petulantly, turning to Wyll instead, who laughed as she hugged him. “I can’t believe we’re really here. We made it back to The Gate.”
“Actually, Karlach,” Gale interrupted, “As I’m reliably informed, we're actually in Rivington.”
Alyria pushed his arm hard enough to make him stumble sideways, but Gale just chuckled.
“Now you’re getting it,” Karlach told him happily.
“We’ll make a Baldurian out of you yet, my friend,” Wyll added.
She was still unsettled, but surrounded by the rest of their strange little band of adventurers, Alyria felt almost at home.