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Aerie hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be awake at this hour – she wouldn’t have been awake if she hadn’t had to relieve herself for the hundredth time, thanks to the weight of her unborn child pressing down on her bladder. She was walking back towards her tent, when she heard the words slicing through the chill night air. “You were raped.”
Aerie jolted and whirled around to see Imoen sitting alone on the grass several meters away from the main camp. Although she was clearly speaking to Aerie, she wasn’t looking at her, just staring out into the night with hollow, empty eyes as she hugged her knees into her chest, “You’re pretty,” She continued, “You’re female and you used to be a slave. It only makes sense.”
“My master never opened my cage.” Aerie slowly moved in Imoen’s direction, choosing her words carefully. She could guess what was really going on here, “Out of fear that I would fly away. And after I lost my wings he had no interest in me.”
“So no?” Imoen sounded almost disappointed. No, almost angry.
“No.” Aerie gingerly sat down opposite her, instinctively moving in a way that kept her robes hanging loose over her bump. “But I was very scared and in a lot of pain, for a long time.” She added, hoping that would provide some of the solidarity she was obviously looking for.
“I know.” Imoen picked at the knee of her trousers. “That isn’t what I asked.”
She hadn’t asked anything, just made a rather presumptive statement, but Aerie didn’t point that out. Instead she left a delicate, tactful pause before saying. “Irenicus hurt you, didn’t he?”
Imoen scoffed, “Yeah, a whole bunch. Want to see the knife marks on my back?”
“Sexually.” Aerie qualified, “He hurt you sexually.”
Another rough exhalation substituted for a confirmation.
“Oh, Imoen.” Aerie wanted to hug her but she wasn’t sure if Imoen would want that and, selfishly, she feared that Imoen would feel the shape of her belly if she did.
“Just me.” Imoen was definitely angry, her eyes flashing in the light of the dying fire, “He beat the crap out of Hamon but nothing more. Jahiera and Minsc he barely touched. Just left them sitting in their cages.”
Aerie opened her mouth to respond but didn’t have chance to find the words before Imoen was speaking again.
“What do you think he was even going for?” Her eyes snapped to Aerie’s face, “How does sticking his dick into me get me any closer to realising my nature? The torture, I get but not this.”
“He was trying to break down your defences.” Aerie suggested, “To make it harder for you to fight back.”
“Or he just thought:” Imoen adopted a mocking, masculine tone, “She’s alright, why don’t I have some fun with her. While I’m here.”
“Maybe.” Aerie suppressing a shudder. Everything about the conversation was dispicable.
“Bastard.” Imoen spat, hugging herself tighter. “I hate him.” Her breath hitched with emotion as her eyes became unfocused again, “I hate him so much. If I had the chance I’d tear him to ribbons with my bare hands.”
“I think anyone would.” Aerie reassured her, “After what he did to you.”
Imoen shook her head, “Even if that’s true, I can’t afford it. Not with the way my soul is.”
“There’s a difference between being the Slayer and being angry.”
“Do you get angry?” Imoen’s eyes were on her again, “Really angry?”
Aerie almost laughed, “Of course I do!” she shook her head at the memory, “I used to throw things at Uncle Qualye. Not for any reason, just because I was angry and he was there.”
“Really?” Imoen was surprised, “You seem so… sunny.”
“It’s been getting easier.” Aerie conceded, “And I try to be a good person. But my feelings still get the better of me sometimes. Ask Hamon if you don’t believe me, I’ve lashed out at him plenty of times too.” Though, thankfully, without physical violence in his case.
Imoen had seemed like she was starting lower her guard, but as soon as Hamon’s name was mentioned her expression darkened again. “I should tell him.”
“Do you want to tell him?” Aerie asked, even though she could already sense the answer.
“I have to.” Imoen replied, which wasn’t the same as a yes. “He’s the one who knows about all this…” She gestured to her head, “Stuff.”
“He’s Bhaalspawn.” Aerie said carefully, “And he’s known that for longer than you have. But that doesn’t make him an expert. His experience is different to yours.”
“Great.” Imoen said flatly. “So I’m on my own.”
“If you want to talk to him, of course you should. You know that he’d do anything to help and he would never think worse of you for it.”
“He’d be pissed.” Imoen hunched over herself so that her chin was resting on her knees, “And worried. Probably start treating me like I’m made out of glass.”
Aerie couldn’t disagree with that. Hamon did have an overprotective streak and he was already angry about what had been done to his sister. He might not react well to the new revelation. And, as the hidden bulk of her belly reminded her, sometimes it was easier to keep things to yourself.
“You could just tell him that you’re struggling to cope with what Irenicus did to you.” She suggested, “It’s not like he’ll press you for details, especially if you say you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I guess.” Imoen grunted, seeming less than enthused with that idea and even more annoyed that she couldn’t find a specific objection.
Aerie exhaled, “What do you want from him, Imoen?” She had a suspicion that even Imoen didn’t know.
“I want to feel better.” Imoen said miserably. “I want to feel right again.”
“I’m not sure he can do that.” Aerie said as gently as she could. Hamon was a good man and he had done wonders for her own darkness, but even he could not fix everything. "I don’t think anyone can.”
Imoen was quiet for a few seconds before her shoulders slumped further, “I know.” Her voice was hollow.
The silence that followed stretched on for several seconds before she said, “You’re not going to tell me that real healing has to come from within.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.” Aerie pointed out, “And your aim is much better than mine was.”
Imoen made a snorting noise that could, perhaps have been a laugh, before lapsing back into silence again. “Tell me anyway.” For a moment, her tone was genuine, before she seemed to catch herself and added, “I don’t have anything to throw right now.”
Aerie dutifully met her eyes, “Nothing can change what happened to you. But over time, you’ll find ways to cope and to live with it. It won’t be easy but it’s not impossible either. I promise that you’re stronger than you think you are.”
“Thanks.” Imoen’s expression was unreadable.
“And I’ll stay with you tonight.” Aerie continued, “All night, if you want me to.”
Imoen snorted, “You’ll hate yourself tomorrow.”
“I’ll manage.” Aerie assured her. Baervan knew she was already hideously uncomfortable most of the time. And this was more important than how tired she might feel in the morning.
Imoen shook her head, “You’re mad.”
“I’m your friend.” Aerie finally risked laying her hand over Imoen’s, “And I want to help you.”
Imoen looked at her hand as if she had never seen one before. “We just said you can’t. No one can.”
“Can’t fix you.” Aerie corrected, “But I can sit with you and share the pain for a little while.”
Imoen stared down at Aerie’s fingers, as though taking her time to consider the offer, “That sounds nice.” She finally admitted, before raising her head again, “I’ll try not to start chucking things, or go Slayer on you.”
“It’s alright.” Aerie gave her a teasing smile, “I can dodge pretty well nowadays.”