Chapter Text
A tongue traced the point of Jarlaxle’s ear and he groaned low, tilting his head towards it. A strong body had him pressed flush to the mattress, stronger hands pinning his wrists above his head. Jarlaxle was beyond struggling now, simply reduced to writhing under the other’s ministrations. Teeth replaced tongue, nipping at his earlobe, and a moan was dragged from his lips.
“Artemis,” he panted, canting his hips up, again and again. He could feel the assassins smirk against his throat, felt him transfer both of Jarlaxle’s wrists to one hand, and he reached down...
Only to thrust his dagger deep into his chest, twisting further and further up, until it pierced his heart-
The room was still dark when Jarlaxle awoke. Drow didn’t need to sleep, but Jarlaxle had taken to it, on the nights he could afford to. Stiffly, and silently, he pushed himself onto his elbows, frowning at the lump of blankets across the room. Entreri was nowhere to be seen.
The drow sighed, and ran a hand over his smooth head. His fingers met resistance as they hit the eyepatch. He’d fallen asleep in it. He sighed again, and resigned himself to getting up. Piece by piece, he adorned his armor: each ring and necklace scrutinized and assessed from every angle, his usual revealing vest being replaced with a slightly warmer, but still revealing, satin shirt of a jewel toned green, his eyepatch straightened and his hat placed perfectly upon his head. The entire process was meditative. It was comforting.
And he did not, even for a second, think of Artemis Entreri.
Jarlaxle certainly did not think of the assassins dexterous fingers, the way he wielded any number of weapons with practiced ease, of the peacefulness that could only cross his face in sleep. He didn’t think of the cutting banter they shared, or the rare but life changing kindness Entreri has bestowed upon the less fortunate, or his silent laughter. And he definitely did not think of striking grey eyes.
And as Jarlaxle went about his morning, his thoughts were equally as drawn to the opposite: those practiced fingers, plunging a dagger into him as an echo of his dream that did not happen , the fact that Entreri slept with the aforementioned dagger under his pillow and was always a moment away from consciousness, how his banter all too quickly turned to insults, and worse, his eyes. His beautiful, cruel eyes, which with a single glare could cut deeper than any blade. They almost reminded him of-
Jarlaxle shook his head, and finally stepped outside of the little inn for some fresh, cool air. He could see his abbil down the street, bartering over some supplies or other with a street vendor. As much as Jarlaxle wanted to go to his side, bother him as he often did, his thoughts were still lingering on his dream, and on ghosts long passed. So he turned on his heel, and began to walk in the opposite direction.
What did his dream mean? Of course, the first part was very welcome, and he’s made some rather less subtle hints towards the assassin as of late, though Entreri was proving to be more dense than he thought. But the last bit... surely he wouldn’t betray him at this point? Surely not like that?
Though he is very practiced in such arts, the drow inside him hissed. He would kill you at a moment’s notice, as soon as you become dead weight to him. Best to cut ties now.
Yes, another, smaller voice in him whispered. You’re already too attached. It will, inevitably, end just like with Zak.
Jarlaxle’s eyes closed briefly at the thought he’d been avoiding. The two were far too much alike. Some days, it felt as though Zaknafein were still alive, though when he would turn to greet his old friend, his eyes would meet grey instead of red, the words would die on his tongue, and an age-old grief would bubble up inside.
Jarlaxle’s eyes caught a glimpse of gold nearby: a street vendor, selling jewelry. All fake, upon closer inspection, but pretty nonetheless. Jarlaxle bought himself a new bracelet, and let his more disquieting thoughts slip away as he walked back to where Artemis was surely waiting, allowing himself to be the Jarlaxle that the world sees once again.