Chapter Text
Shadowheart
The drow’s bed is soft, and I revel in the decadence of the cool silk against my bare skin. Violet had walked me to her home last night from the ball. How much of our conversation on that stroll had been true, how much of it fabricated? It was clear to me that she knew our meeting was not accidental, but it was difficult to parse how far beneath the veil of my deceptions she could see. The little lies were easy to sell. A fake name. Feigned unfamiliarity with her kind. She picked up on my little fibs but was not threatened by them. Perfect. Laying a groundwork of duplicity was sometimes the easiest way to bypass an otherwise shrewd defense. To create a fog of mistrust and allure was a strategy employed on only the more difficult marks.
A man like Enver Gortash required no such finesse. His sort of vanity demanded only a superficial manipulation. A single layered disguise more than sufficed on his ilk. The drow was different. Better to let her believe she saw right through me, to let her think she was peeling back my own layers.
My mission from Viconia had been clear. Locate the drow. Remove her from the ball by any means necessary. Then eliminate her. I bristled at such a waste of a fine mind. Surely Shar had better uses for one such as this. I continued to contemplate my options as we approached the drow’s home, when she finally broke the easy silence we had slipped into since the creek.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I’ve never brought anyone back here before?” Violet appeared to blush as she unlocked her front door. I wouldn’t believe it, no. But there was an earnestness to her words that took me by surprise. She appeared to be telling the truth. “Much less someone I met a couple of hours ago at a lavish party, under a false name.”
Something in the tone of these words gave me pause. A warning. A trap. She glanced back at me as she held open the door, and I read the playfulness in her eyes. Not a trap. A tease.
“There’s a first time for everything,” I told her as I stepped inside. The room was cozy and inviting. She removed the jacket from my shoulders, and I felt my body warm at her touch.
“Thank you. I hope you weren’t too chilled without it,” I said sincerely, recalling the moment she noticed my shiver as we walked along the creekside path from the ball. She had taken it off unhesitatingly and draped it over my shoulders without a word, revealing her own strong, defined shoulders and muscular arms in a silk sleeveless tunic. Its deep purple hue complemented her complexion beautifully. Have I ever been this attracted to a mark? Surely not. None that I can recall anyway.
“Not at all. Besides, it suits you better,” she smiled, hanging the jacket on a hook by the door.
“You have a habit of saying all the right things,” I told her, eyes wandering to explore the drow’s home. Of course I was looking for signs of a trap or some inevitable peril, but I’ll admit that I was equally interested to learn more about my enigmatic and chivalrous host.
“Make yourself at home,” she invited me as she raised the light. Where previously the room had been dimly illuminated in shades of blue from small glow stones throughout the space, now the fireplace and lanterns cackled to life with a subtle gesture of her hand. I pondered the source of her magic but her question diverted my thoughts. “Can I interest you in my favorite tea?”
“Here I thought you were going to woo me with your finest vintage,” I teased, admiring her impressive assortment of wines and liquors on a shelf near the kitchen.
“Another night.”
Puzzled, I turned my attention to her collection of tomes. “Another night?” I called over my shoulder playfully. “Bold of you to assume there will be more than just the one. Short term amusements are far less hassle.”
“Another night, perhaps,” she amended with a smile, impervious to my teasing. “I had my fair share of intoxicating substances tonight, and I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about my intentions in bringing you here. I’m going to tempt fate and say that we can take our time.”
“If getting me liquored up is the wrong idea, do you care to share your true intentions in bringing me here?” I asked in challenge.
“Let’s see. The fine art of conversation? Baldurian hospitality? Drow outreach?” she rambled on from the kitchen, out of sight but well within earshot. “Take your pick. Or maybe just to tempt you into a second date with the promise of my finest vintage.”
I genuinely was at a loss for where this was going next. Who is seducing whom? Shouldn’t she want me drinking my guard down? Her attraction to me is unmistakable, so why isn’t she pursuing it? What is my plan? To kill her as instructed? Perhaps she can be more useful to Lady Shar if I can use her to gather intel on Gortash and his growing Banite cult, or what if I could recruit her to our own cause?
“I didn’t realize this was a first date,” I smiled at her as she reemerged and leaned against the doorway.
“Elora, you wound me.”
The kettle whistled in the kitchen, and she disappeared to retrieve it. I searched for Shar’s guidance within me, just as my eyes caught sight of a familiar tome – Teachings of Loss: Own Secret.
Moments later Violet was by my side again, two steaming cups of tea in hand. She followed my eyes to the bookshelf. My fingertips reached out to touch the tome reverently before I could think to restrain them.
“Lady Shar knows what you bury, deep inside your spirit.” I startled at her familiar words, and turned to meet her gaze as she carried on, “She knows what pains you, and gnaws away at your very being. Be open with her about your failings. Let her place the soothing hands of oblivion upon your wounds.” Violet quoted the passage in an even tone, handing me a warm cup of tea as she pressed on flawlessly with her recitation. “Let her know you utterly, so she can release you from your shackles.”
A moment passed wordlessly between us as I recovered my composure. She recited the words like a beloved poem, but with the veneration of a cleric. No, not like a poem. Like a prayer.
“Are you familiar with Sharran dogma, Elora?”
“Gods no,” I replied, raising the cup to my lips. An earnest deception. One she was not meant to perceive, unlike those of our initial conversation. My mind raced. How does she have a copy of such a sacred Sharran text? Has this all been a test? It was not unheard of for faithful Sharrans to lead normal lives outside the cloister, ingratiating themselves into wider society, often unknown even to other adherents. I had been sent to learn from such ones during the course of my years of training. “Most wouldn’t dare keep books on Shar worship on such display.”
“They’re not on display. You’re the first person I’ve brought here, remember? Suffice to say I have ample security measures to keep out prying eyes in any case.” She gestured around her home knowingly, and I contemplated whether she was excellent at bluffing, or my own perception had failed me.
“You’re a Shar worshipper, then?” Determined to maintain the pretence of a naive rich girl from Neverwinter, I let a hint of alarm and accusation color the inquiry. She shook her head and sipped her tea impassively.
“I’m a seeker. I have an affliction that I would be rid of, and I’m not above searching for answers from the gods.” I sensed the unspoken word in her last sentence. She’s not above searching for answers from any of the gods. Curiosity and open-mindedness to Shar, then. Not devotion to her. Noted.
I whiffed the tea discreetly. No discernable hint of poison. It smelled of cooling peppermint, spicy ginger, tangy lemon, but there was a note of something else, something unfamiliar to me.
“Night orchid blossoms,” she said, sensing my question. “Not an ingredient to part with lightly. Their essence is a valuable alchemical substance, but the plants are terribly difficult to grow in a place like this. They thrive in the dark, and tend to spring up unbidden, in the most foreboding environments. Attempt to grow them in a vibrant, bustling city like Baldur’s Gate… let’s just say they’d rather not be told where to settle.”
“I’m flattered,” I told her, taking a reluctant sip. “This is lovely, thank you. I can’t say I’m familiar with night orchids, though.”
We sat together on her comfortable couch in easy silence once more, savouring our tea. I pretended not to notice as she studied me. I scanned her library. Besides the impressive trove of Sharran texts, she had books ranging from Amap’s Memoirs to Suelto’s Ethics of War.
“Do you have a favorite?” I asked. Hard to get a sense for the drow’s own world view when her library housed such discordant perspectives.
“Hm,” she pondered the question for a moment, then replied with a wry grin, “Hard to say. If I had to choose… The Salty Mermaid.”
I couldn’t contain my laugh, nearly spitting up my mouthful of tea, and spilling some from the cup all the same. “Gods, I’m sorry,” I said. She laughed along with me and handed over a clean handkerchief from her pocket. I dabbed at the small spill in embarrassment, apologizing again. “I’m sorry for this.”
“It’s nothing,” she smiled. “I take it you’re a woman of fine taste in literature yourself then.”
“Naturally. The pinnacle of good trash,” I ceded. When constructing my cover some days earlier, I had not consciously selected a name so similar to that of Allura – star of the infamous Sword Coast smut series. Was she poking fun at me again? I was relieved when she changed the subject suddenly.
“Come on, I want to show you something.” Violet finished her tea and reached out a hand. After a beat, I took it, and she led me to what seemed to be a solid wall between the bookshelves. We passed through the false wall together and stood on the landing of a tight spiral staircase descending into the dark.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” I chuckled, then added nervously, “You’re not leading me into your dungeon, I trust?”
Violet kept hold of my hand as we descended, and I was surprised by how comfortable the gesture felt. The cellar was dimly lit with glow stones as above, and the ground was a mix of damp earth and grass. Luminous and colorful fungi lined the walls, and the space was much larger than the walls of the residence above. It must have stretched beneath several of Violet’s neighbors’ homes.
“It’s extraordinary,” I breathed, impressed with the vastness and splendor. It was like a small piece of the underdark right under Baldurian streets. She let me explore in silence for some time. Then I saw the blue and purple plants, a base of flat and elongated leaves, a strong stem, and four delicate flowers in bloom. “Night orchids?” I asked, and she nodded, plucking one tenderly. “They’re beautiful.”
She placed the flower delicately behind my ear. “As are you.”
Our faces were close now, and I couldn’t help but look down at her soft lips once again. In that moment, more than duty, more than devotion to my mistress, I wanted a taste of Violet, just for myself. For no other reason than my own. I closed my eyes and leaned into the feeling, close enough now to feel her breath on my lips. I felt her pull away, suddenly, almost fearfully, but when I caught sight of her face it was entirely unreadable. I followed her back to the stairs, disappointed and confused.
“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I told her, taking a final look around the room; embarrassed by the rejection, but steeled once more for the task at hand. She followed me back upstairs, guiding us through the false wall once again.
“It’s gotten rather late,” Violet remarked, glancing at the clock above the mantle. “Where are you staying for the night? I should walk you back.”
“I was… hoping,” I replied, resorting back to my baser forms of manipulation. “I could spend the night.”
The Dark Urge
I lead the spy upstairs to my bedroom, undecided if I’m going to let myself fall into her trap. Gods know I’m tempted. She’s gorgeous and makes me laugh in spite of everything. I could tie her up. Get some answers. Whoever she may be, an innocent Neverwinter socialite she most certainly is not. I could present the rope like it’s part of some sex game. I wouldn’t even have to get violent to restrain her. I open the wardrobe and instead pull out my favorite set of pajamas and towel and lay them out on my bedside table for her like an inn-maid. What in the nine hells has gotten into me tonight?
I give her a hospitable tour of the upstairs, and decide to get as far away from her for the night as I can manage without leaving her to snoop about my home unattended. Why did I bring her here to begin with? This will end badly. The urge can come back again any moment, and what then? I kill my crush in my own bedroom? I have other places to handle such filthy work, this is meant to be a sanctuary for the real me. Now I’ve jeopardized it, and for what? Some girl with an agenda of her own.
No, don’t keep looking at the small of her back. She stands at the window admiring the view. My eyes wander lower… No, don't look down there either. Get a grip. Don’t think about her charming smile, or her big inquisitive green eyes, or her adorable smirk. Stop. Say goodnight, and read a book. Drink some tea.
I make for the stairs and force myself to think of all the times she blatantly manipulated me tonight. ‘I was hoping to spend the night.’ Give me a break. Don’t think about her little pet name for you. Don’t wonder what her real name is. It doesn’t matter. Just get through tonight. Tail her when she leaves and decide what to do about it from there.
Except I can’t stop thinking of all the times I could tell she wasn’t faking it. The genuine look of sweet surprise when I offered my jacket. How she looked at me when we spoke of Shar. Spilled tea. The sound of her laugh. Her words may lie, but not her eyes. For a moment in the cellar I genuinely wanted to kiss her. I almost did.
I watched her explore my night orchid cave cautiously. Whatever she was hoping to find when she came home with me tonight, it won’t be here. She’ll be polite and have a quick look, and then maybe she’ll carry out the assassination attempt. She’ll fail, and at least she’ll be easier to dispose of down here. Or she’ll lead us upstairs into an ambush and I have other ways of dealing with that. Or I guess she’ll do neither and she’ll love my favorite hideaway, and admire my flowers and I’ll pluck one from the earth and give it to her like a lovesick puppy, and yes that’s exactly what’s happening.
“They’re beautiful.”
Don’t say it. Time to go upstairs and see her out. No, no, no. Don’t you dare put that damn flower in this assassin’s hair, you idiot.
“As are you.” Fuck. You just had to say it. Some thoughts are best left unspoken. You are making this worse for yourself. She’s probably laughing at you on the inside.
She leans in and it feels like she’s not even trying to seduce me anymore, is this a legitimate kiss? I can indulge one kiss, what’s the worst thing that could happen? This is fine. I lean in closer, just one kiss. The blue glow of the cave begins to redden.
Our lips touch and she tastes sweet and bitter as my tea. I wrap my arms around her waist and she leans into me, consenting as I bring my hand to gently caress her neck, and then I begin to squeeze. She moans and kisses me again, but my grip tightens and her eyes shoot open in fear. Kiss, kill, maim! Rip her sweet emerald gemstone eyes from their sockets and feed them to the crows! My hand clasps like an iron fist and I feel her windpipe collapse under my grip before she can even scream.
I pull away from her, terrified, turning my back as quickly as I can, and the crimson fades. She startles, but she’s unharmed. I came-to just in time. That was too damn close. It’s fine, just act normal. Smile, go back upstairs. I hold out a hand to invite her up the steps first, chivalry, one must catch a lady should she stumble on the stairs. Eyes down now, don’t check her out. Assassin or no, let’s not objectify the beautiful woman we nearly murdered in the garden.
Would you look at the time, thanks for the lovely date, until next time, or never! Why bother to walk her home, it’s not like she’s safer in your company, you sick freak. Leave her to the night fiends. She can probably kick their asses anyway. Or just give her your damn bedroom, that’s fine too.
“Goodnight,” she says and I can just feel it, deep down. It isn’t all an act. I hesitate, searching my mind for any trace of the urge. It’s gone for now. Fuck it.
I grab her hip tightly, pulling her close. I reach up and brush her cheek, letting my fingers slide into her dark soft hair, and I pause. Is this really what she wants? She kisses me and I feel myself audibly sigh in relief, in delight – pull yourself together before you melt – she deepens the kiss. I pull back and search her gaze. No dark thoughts rise to the surface of my mind. My heart is racing. Have we been here before? Please give me a sign that this is real.
Except I know it isn’t. I know I am her mark. I guess I don’t really care if she’s trying to take advantage of me. But what if she is only here because someone is taking advantage of her? I don’t even know her name.
“My name is Shadowheart,” she says as though she’s read my thoughts. I wish she could understand that the name she gave me tonight is more real than any label I can recall having up to this point. So instead of words I respond as honestly as I can. I kiss her softly. Taking one tentative taste, and then another as I feel her deepen our kiss.
She spins me around and I fall back onto the bed for her. She can do as she pleases with me tonight. I don’t take my eyes off of her as she stands confidently over me and removes her dress. Her body is divine and I am content to worship it silently from a distance as long as she’ll allow me.
When she finally joins me on the bed, my hands begin to wander and she lets them.
I haven’t allowed myself to be close to anyone in a very long time. I haven’t wanted to be. But I do want her, and I enjoy it as she takes off my clothes and I touch, and kiss, and taste her again and again. Time loses shape and meaning as the night unfolds, and there are no more lies, at least not tonight. She rests her head on my chest and I hold her, caressing the soft skin of her back and I can only smile and wonder how long this truthfulness can last. I bring the covers up around her, and fall asleep to the rhythm of her breaths.
Shadowheart
In the morning light I try in vain to clear my head of the night’s events. The sun pours into the loft through the marvelous windows and I contemplate my options. Whatever my intentions were in coming here last night, I’m more confused than ever about my next steps. Surely this situation can work to my advantage. I seem to have earned Violet’s trust and what’s more, she has the confidence of Gortash. Intel on his activities will be invaluable to Viconia’s objectives.
She was clear in our mission brief that we were not to go after Gortash directly at the ball. The situation is too delicate, and Viconia wanted more time to let his plans unfold before risking interference. Nocturne and my associates were on reconnaissance, to seduce or ingratiate themselves with Gortash’s noble affiliates. To my knowledge mine was the only kill order issued. I knew better than to question the Mother Superior on this objective, but it gnawed at my mind for the days leading up to the ball.
Now more than ever I wish to understand why eliminating the drow is more advantageous to Shar’s design than cultivating inroads here. Perhaps she is as discreet as she purports to be, and her sympathies for Shar worship are unknown even to Viconia herself. I may yet convince her of Violet’s value as an informant, a witting one or otherwise.
Violet spoke last night of an affliction. If I can get her to open up more about this, maybe I can show her a path to Shar’s embrace. She’s already taken more steps down that road than any I’ve converted before now. She could prove a most valuable ally.
I won’t be expected to make a report to the cloister until nightfall. Violet may be open to spending more time together today. If I can glean anything substantial before my debrief, perhaps Viconia can be persuaded to let me pursue an alternate path. There’s more to be uncovered here, I can sense it. Lady Shar wants me to see where this leads, I just know it.
As the sunlight warms my skin, I let myself indulge once more in the comfort of Violet’s bed. I can faintly hear her downstairs in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee wafts up to the loft and I sigh contentedly. Mornings in the cloister are nothing like this. I decide to savor the moment just a little longer, and close my eyes once more. In the spirit of indulgence, I let my mind wander back to last night.
“It’s gotten rather late. Where are you staying for the night? I should walk you back.”
“I was hoping… I could spend the night.”
“As you wish, Elora.” She made her way to another set of stairs, this one in plain sight. “This way.”
It was a small loft, with floor to ceiling windows revealing a glorious view of the city and the glistening moonlit Sea of Swords. Violet pulled fresh towels and a set of soft bed clothes from the wardrobe, laying them on the night table for me. She showed me the washroom, and produced a jug of fresh water.
“Please be at home here. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Violet.” I sighed, resigned to spending the night alone while markedly not fulfilling my assassination mission. I didn’t cover over the disappointment in my voice, nor exaggerate it. I spoke not as Elora, but Shadowheart as I bade her goodnight.
She started down the stairs, then paused for a moment. My chest swirled with anticipation. In a heartbeat Violet turned heel, closing the distance between us. She placed a hand firmly on my hip, the other on my cheek, her fingers woven into my hair. Without hesitating I pressed my lips against hers hungrily. I warmed at the faint sound of her sigh, and kissed her again deeply. She pulled away slightly, looking down into my eyes. I felt my resolve break under her scrutiny.
“My name is Shadowheart,” I confided. She kissed me softly, and I felt her tongue caress my lip tentatively at first, then confidently as I pulled her closer and opened to her. I spun her toward the bed playfully and she let me push her onto it as I stood above her. She watched me unclasp my dress at the top of the neck. I let it fall in a satin pool of purple at my feet, exposing my upper body to her completely. I stood still, staring into her violet eyes, and watched her take in the sight of me a moment.
She was propped up on her elbows, unmoving, drinking me in entirely. I settled onto the bed on top of her, one of my legs between hers, as she placed her hands first on my hips, then wandered to the small of my back, and down to the soft seat of my body. I felt the cool touch of her fingers beneath the hem of my only remaining undergarment, and I kissed her once again, allowing myself to glide lightly against her thigh.
She lifted her leg for me insightfully, deepening the contact, and I could not suppress a soft moan as I continued to rock forward and back. My stomach and my throat tightened with pleasure, and she ran a hand up to caress my breast.
As she held the small of my back, she flipped me onto the bed and I pulled her tunic over her head. I unclasped her undergarments from behind her back with one hand, and gazed at her bare chest before letting my hands explore every inch of her skin.
She kissed my lips, my neck, my collarbone, as I unclasped her pants. She slipped out of them obediently, planting kisses on my chest, her lips going from one breast to the other. Her fingers slipped beneath the hem of my undergarment once more, and gently stroked my damp, delicate flesh. I moaned again, and could feel her tremble in response.
I lifted my lower body up to allow her to remove the last strip of fabric between us, then relished the feel of her fingers as they slipped inside of me. I let her carry on touching me as she saw fit, her kisses going ever lower to meet her own hand. Her tongue pressed against my flesh, and I looked down at her as she took one after the other decadent taste, until I couldn’t help but grab the headboard above me and felt my eyes roll back into my delirious head.
In the end, she laid beside me, holding me close. She kissed the corner of my mouth with such tenderness I wanted to simply collapse into her. I turned and laid my head on her chest as she caressed my back affectionately, and brought the covers up over my shoulders.
How am I ever going to explain this in my prayers?