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Halsin sits by the small lake and sighs.
The day has been tiresome: an entire army of Sharrans lies dead in an underground temple, their blood still clinging to his skin.
Erebos had been silent, standing close to Shadowheart like a mastiff ready to go off if someone even looked at her. Karlach was angry, too, something she was good at, and Halsin was left trudging behind his gloomy companions, head held down mourning despite the trail of corpses they’d left behind.
A shiver, at the back of his neck, from the way Erebos had disposed of Viconia once Shadowheart had deemed her fate irrelevant to her. Pure desire for slaughter flitting in his starry eyes, dark and unnatural. The Urge had reared its head, cried in ecstasy. During his long life Halsin had seen many things that still held him by the throat at night, but even he had been compelled to put a hand on Erebos’ shoulder and yell among the throat-ripping screams of agony: “By Silvanus, mercy!”
Erebos had looked back at him, frothing at the mouth, more beast than man, and let go of the sad, barely alive lump that had been Viconia DeVir, a few rattling wheezes her final breaths, and for just the barest moment Halsin’s instincts had screamed to run . He’d stood his ground and it had passed, the snarl receding from blood-stained teeth, Erebos’ usual ancient weariness left behind.
They hadn’t said a word to each other since.
The water stains with rusted blood, and Halsin shakes his head. All this time, there had been something gentle behind Erebos’ fury, a wounded animal under the rabid hound. Halsin knew of the nightmares that plagued him, the hurt and regret and so much history unknown, the pain in his strong limbs, and all he wanted was to stand beside him and hold him through it.
Halsin could not believe how smitten he was. Like a youth, left doubting and wondering by a glance or a rare smile, cowering behind scenarios and what-ifs. He’d wanted Erebos for quite a while, had finally managed to come forth and tell him .
“I do not want to hurt Karlach, I…want to do this right,” Erebos had whispered, he always spoke so quietly. Like he worried some spell might break dare he speak out loud. “By her, and by you, too. Believe me. Give me some time.” He’d drifted off and left, and Halsin had hung off that, his trance and daily meditation plagued by apprehension and a vague sense of vertigo any time he got lost in his own mind.
Gods, how he’d wanted a chance. Since the goblin fight, when Halsin had seen the drow materialise from thin air and jump with a nimbleness one wouldn’t expect from someone his size, footsteps silent as the grave and body moving in curt, efficient blows that held a surprising amount of force. Since that bloodied face and eyes like a starry night had looked at him during the party, direct, a hint teasing, long pale lashes sheer against the firelight.
Erebos had given him that chance, had said he’d discuss it with Karlach, because he wanted to please and cherish her and that was all he’d ever ask for. Halsin knew that devotion like an old friend and it made him burn even hotter under the collar.
There hadn’t been much time, of course, for Halsin’s fancies, what with the impending end of the world and whatnot. A few days had passed since they'd arrived at Baldur's Gate, they’d dealt with Shadowheart’s past, which had taken a toll on her and Erebos both.
Despite his attempts to hide it, Erebos was quite fond of her, protective, even, like a mother owlbear. Both struggling through a mottled memory, two gods’ expectations hanging over their heads like a guillotine, it was understandable Erebos would take the much younger woman under his wing.
He’d even admitted it a few nights back, when they’d discovered his murderous inheritance. A couple bottles in and smelling of desperation, cheek weighing on Halsin's shoulder, Erebos had shaken his head and grunted, a guttural sound, gulping down the last few mouthfuls of cheap alcohol. “Her, at least,” he’d drawled, wine-warmed breath tickling Halsin’s cheek, “if the Gods are listening, if they care about this wretched plane at all, let her leave unscathed. Too many broken pieces already litter our existence. Isn’t it enough? Do they crave more ruin, still?”
Halsin had wanted to kiss him, but Karlach was there, and she had hugged him instead, put his arm around her shoulders and hoisted him up like he weighed nothing. Halsin could see the overwhelming affection between the two, something so tender and hushed that became loud and breathtaking in battle, a dance of two people who’d spent so long with nothing to lose, and now fought to protect their joy with teeth and claws.
After the House of Grief, Halsin could admit he'd been moping with his pipe for company when Karlach had found him. “You, you’re all wise and ancient, you get it,” she’d gesticulated airily to prove her point, though Halsin hadn’t been able to discern what she meant. “I’m not good with words, and he needs someone who can be good with words, right now.”
Karlach had encouraged him to seek Erebos out after their talk, saying they’d discuss the dynamics of it happening once they’d all had a good night’s rest. A union between the three of them, because Karlach wasn't going to be excluded. Halsin would’ve been happier about this development weren't he exhausted, and had come to the lake to clear his head.
As he digests the day’s events, he hears the grass rustle. He knows it’s Erebos, because he’s prone to purposefully make loud noises to announce his presence, giving the other an out in case they don’t want to talk. Like knocking on nature's door, which makes Halsin smile.
“Good evening,” Halsin nods as he twists water out of his hair. “Though it’s far past that, by now. Trouble trancing?” Erebos kneels beside him, sitting on his haunches and looking at the moon. His hair and eyes glint in the night like a mirror image, he’s moonlight and stars, his skin pink and freckled, white flames lapping on his jaw and neck. He’s cleaned up, wearing a loose shirt and sporting a peculiar hairdo that slightly resembles Shadowheart’s own, though featuring small little braids pinned to the sides of his head.
“You could say that,” he senses Halsin’s staring, and tilts his head in his direction, a stray lock tickling his forehead. “We discovered Shadowheart is quite versed in braiding hair. And that the activity grounds her.”
Halsin's smiles. “It’s fitting, in a way.” It’s familiar. Beast made person by the gentle touch of the ones who love it. Details of care all over nature's brutality. Halsin could go on.
Erebos shakes his head, and sighs. They stay like that a while, interrupted only by the quiet splashing of water as Halsin rinses Sharran blood off his armour. “I understand if you've changed your mind. I won't hold it against you,” Erebos says when Halsin is done, eyes closed in meditation. What he means is obvious, but Halsin is surprised nonetheless.
“What makes you think I could change my mind about something like this?”
“You have a sane head on your shoulders,” Erebos states with a shrug, blunt as always. “Am I wrong?” Halsin has to chuckle at that, though it’s not mirth that pulls the corner of his mouth up.
“I’ve spent too much time wandering the land nature has given us to hesitate over what I want. And I do want, fervently. I am sure of it.”
“But why ,” Erebos whispers. “You know what I almost did to Karlach, back in the Shadowlands.”
“And what you didn’t . You woke her up when you could’ve killed her in her sleep, you suffered when you could’ve silenced it all by giving in. You are not what you’ve been told you are, Erebos. I can see that, no matter how much you refuse to.”
“I don’t know whether I should call you a saint, or a fool,” is all Erebos can say, after a long pause. His fists are clenched over his lap, nails digging in his palms.
“I am neither, if that can be of any comfort,” Halsin tries a ghost of touch over Erebos’ scarred knuckles. The drow freezes, but lets Halsin touch him at his leisure. “I look at you and I see. That’s all anyone could give, really. I see pain, and a tenderness underneath, and that is enough. I am ready to be a shoulder to lean on, should the weight prove too much to bear.” Erebos shakes his head, all teeth and restraint.
“Halsin,” his name said with finality, it makes his heart beat faster either way. “What I did today… It felt good , like a blessing. It felt familiar. I’ve done this before, my blood sings it, I see the face of a drow, cold eyes, dead, and the glee at knowing her so. It’s vague memories but she owned me, the way it is in the Underdark,” Halsin feels Erebos’ hands shaking under his own. “I was hers, body and soul, I loved and hated her in equal measure and I killed her with a smile. She hurt me, but many had done so. She had been the first to be kind, and as thanks I strangled her in her bed,” as he grows more and more agitated, Erebos crumbles on himself with a grunt of pain, the headaches he gets any time he tries to recall what he was before the tadpole.
“Easy,” Halsin whispers, a hand heavy on Erebos’ back, feeling the muscles spasm. “There is no worth in remembering fragments that could mean anything at all, no matter how you long for that knowledge. What matters is the here and now.” Erebos’ breath hitches in his throat, hand to Halsin’s chest. “Many before us and many to come will find glee in killing a villain. Besides, I don’t know what passes as kindness to drow, but I doubt a matriarch had much to spare for a consort.”
“A consort? Not a slave?” Erebos’ bitter smirk falls off immediately, and he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I loved her, as much as a chained beast can love its owner, and I betrayed her. I’m…Karlach doesn’t deserve a traitor, and neither do you. I came here because of that, I–” Halsin can clearly see Erebos’ steel focus in regaining control of his emotions, growing distant and still, like a stone in water. “I came here to say it’d put me at ease to know she has someone she can rely on. When…it will be done.”
Halsin knows that tone, but he has to ask anyway, neutral despite the turmoil in his gut. “What do you mean?” Erebos has the nerve to smile.
“Orin knows I'm back, and she asked for a duel. We shall find her as soon as possible. And then,” he sighs when Halsin remains silent, as if unsure he should say it at all. “Bhaal’s legacy shall die.”
“Are you out of your mind?!” Halsin can’t help the anger in his tone, a hand instinctively grabbing Erebos’ shoulder as if he could disappear any second. “How can you say that?”
“If you are asking that, then you must not know me at all,” Erebos is serene in the face of the outburst. He acquiesces after a moment. “I am…considering it. Who knows what will happen once I kill Orin? Will I be compelled to join the Dead Three in her stead? You heard what Gortash said. What I once was. I don’t know how Karlach can bear to look at me.” He’s weary when he says that, a guilt so grave it makes him curl up on himself.
“You cannot know any of that. These are all suppositions, uglied by the turmoils of the day,” Halsin can’t control his harsh tone, battling to stay rational since they both need him to be.
“If I win, there is no doubt Bhaal will either make me his again, or discard me if I’m of no use. What’s the point of the Urge if I refuse it? And I’d rather die than accept his favour,” Erebos laughs, it’s full of glee and it makes Halsin’s blood go cold. “That is, if I win. You read the book Volo gave us. What she can turn into.” He shakes his head, flexing his hands once or twice. “I know for a fact that form eludes me.”
“We killed Ketheric. We can kill her, too.”
Erebos laughs out loud. “What then? We’ll kill Bhaal as well?” He eyes Halsin, half unseeing but intense, brows furrowed. “As I said, my fate is sealed. But I’ll have the last laugh. I’ll take Orin down with me.”
Halsin shakes his head, rubbing his eyes harshly. After a century spent in the swamp that was his mind, travelling with this wayward group of adventurers had been like breathing fresh air again. He wasn’t ready to lose anything so soon. To mourn all over again, a cycle he’d endured for centuries now.
“There must be a solution. I refuse to see you give up on your life like a trapped mouse waiting to die. You are not a–a lamb for Bhaal to sacrifice. You have strength and allies and guts , for Silvanus’ sake. Orin is but a miserable, wretched creature of evil, and despite your conviction this world has nothing but pain to offer, I’ve seen you overcome greater perils. You lifted a fog I’d endured for so long, cleared the land from a curse that had raged for a century in mere days. I cannot stand by and watch while you torture yourself.”
Erebos doesn’t speak, palms against his thighs, straight and still like a statue. Disciplined, yes, or something else entirely. He’d never seemed afraid to die, but there’s a tightness in his lips now that Halsin remembers on the faces of his brethren, when they’d stood at the bottom of a valley holding their ranks, silent as the dull metal of Dark Justiciar armors tinged the horizon bleak and darkness fell upon them.
“Besides,” he continues, wetting his lips and touching his fingers to Erebos’ knuckles. “Karlach…her life hangs by a thread, too. You’d be leaving her alone. She deserves to be with someone she loves when the end comes, don’t you think?” He can see Erebos’ lips thinning, his fists tighten, and again his void-like eyes stare right ahead, as if he were keen on losing himself in the night.
It’s the look of someone who’d rather be anywhere, anyone else, who’s life caught up with him. Oh, Halsin knows that look well.
“Erebos, I understand your fear–” Halsin’s heart jumps in his chest when Erebos moves, afraid he’ll leave, but the drow grabs him by the front of his camp shirt. It’s meant to be aggressive, yet Erebos looks like he’d cry, if he still could.
“How could you understand?!” His voice is low, pleading . “How could you know?! How it feels to have found yourself anew, to suddenly have everything, and how you could lose it all in but a moment, a whim of fate. I’m–” the words die in his throat, and he huffs a sad approximation of a laugh. “I don’t deserve it either way.”
“My love,” Halsin chances the word, “no one holds the solution for all their troubles. But we are allowed to push back. You won’t be punished for the mere fault of wanting a future.”
Halsin leans closer until their breaths mingle. He can smell the herbs from the concoction Erebos drinks every evening in hopes it’ll help with the headaches, and underneath a tang of the wine they'd all shared at dinner. It’s painfully mundane after all that has been said. “We are here, alive,” their lips graze and Halsin has to steady his breathing. “ Please , this need not end in tragedy,” he whispers, closing his eyes in hope it’ll quell the fire threatening to burn him down.
“Halsin–” Erebos sounds both scared and elated at once, his big matte eyes shining like the night sky. Halsin doesn't know who leans in first, but the kiss comes as easy as breathing. It’s chaste at first, then Erebos’ mouth opens slightly in invitation, and Halsin is lost.
Erebos trembles and envelops Halsin in his arms, falls back with a half-drowned noise, the scent of grass, iron and sweat blending in his nose and mouth. Hard muscle and perfectly trained limbs, larger than life in more ways than one. Halsin cannot recall the last time someone bigger than him held him like this, tender and private, and when Erebos’ calloused hands find his waist he makes an embarrassing noise for someone his age.
A touch of their lips, Erebos breathes Halsin in before breaking the kiss. Unable to bear the loss of contact, Halsin skids his mouth over Erebos’ neck. “Your scent drives me insane,” Erebos breathes out. “Since the beginning. Covered in blood and mud, it didn’t matter. Oh Halsin, your warmth, your breath, I–” he shakes his head, forces a smile. “Best I shut up before I make an utter fool of myself.”
“If you’re so keen on calling yourself a fool, know I am thrice the fool you are,” Halsin smiles, kissing the corner of Erebos’ jaw, where freckles are covered by pale, faded ink. “My thoughts would make Sharess herself blush, the things I want to do, my love–ah–”
He’s on his back in an instant, Erebos looming over him like something dangerous, a hand around his throat. “Halsin,” Erebos breathes out, closing his hand to make him feel the pressure. “ Please –”
I strangled her in her bed . What had they been doing that night? Had Erebos been chained to the bedpost, like it was typical for favoured consorts in Menzoberranzan? A collar around his neck, back raw from a beating? Or hands still bloodied from the last enemy his mistress had ordered him to slay for her twisted delight? Was he forced to please?
This is all your kind is good for, jaluk , a cold voice rings in his ears, followed by colder ruby eyes gleaming in the dark, disharmonious against the heat enveloping him, and all of his body hurts, pinned against the wall by chains and hands, so many hands around him as he’s made raw with shame. Halsin doesn’t even register his hands growing claws, his now pointed teeth bared in a blood-curdling growl, elf drowned in gold and ancient magic, only survival instinct left behind in his ursine form. Moonlight reflects off pale strands in the muddy ground, braided and falling undone, and he stops, beady eyes over Erebos’ form, and realises the bears’ frothing maw now hangs open around his throat, ready to bite it off.
Its canine nicks the side of Erebos’ neck but he's still like the dead underneath it, looking up at half a ton of beast with curiosity and awe . “Beautiful,” he sighs, moving a hand closer with the desire to skirt it across its muzzle. Turning back hurts like something ripped away that leaves the skin tender, Halsin stumbles, and Erebos sits up lightning quick to catch him.
“I–” Halsin starts once he’s caught his breath, at the same time Erebos says “Sorry”, petting Halsin’s mussed hair in an awkward attempt to soothe him. They kneel in front of each other like penitents, not much dissimilar from before, though the night feels a bit colder now that Erebos put some distance between them.
“That was…a spectacle I’d rather have not shown you,” whispers Halsin where his face is nestled in Erebos’ neck, a streak of blood on his cheek from the small puncture wound there. “I should be the one apologising, my heart.” The endearment falls easily from his lips, and he plants them over Erebos’ pulse in hopes they won’t quiver.
“I admit it was, well. Wild . But that has never turned me away,” Erebos’ drawl makes Halsin’s mouth tingle where it’s planted on his throat, the concern evident in his tone. “What happened?”
“It’s just, well, I–” for a terrible second, Halsin considers lying. That it was arousal, that they can keep going, lose themselves in the instinctual part of sex he’s craved for so long. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Erebos senses something is wrong, tucks some of Halsin’s hair behind his ear where it came loose from his bun. “Whatever it is, it won’t change anything between us.”
“Won’t it?” It comes out before he can do anything to stop it, and Halsin shakes his head. “Hah, I shouldn’t be making this harder on you.”
“When was it ever stated it should be easy?” Erebos shrugs. “Quite unrealistic, if you ask me.”
Halsin chuckles, crossing his arms in hopes it’ll stop his hands from shaking. “You are exceptional, do you know that?” Erebos doesn’t answer for a moment, having that shell shocked look of someone unfamiliar with receiving praise.
“Well, I…it’s not much. Whatever I am given, I should give back in equal measure–” the last words are muffled by Halsin leaning forward to lock them in an embrace. It’s strong, lingering, like he doesn’t want to let go. Erebos’ hands are cold where he gingerly reciprocates, patting Halsin’s back, breathing in the scent of the woods in long, brown hair.
They stay like that for a long while, until Erebos breaks the silence. “It’s been a long day, treasure. Want me to brew you something for trancing?”
Halsin answers with a smile.
***
When he’s sure Halsin is soothed enough to be able to rest, Erebos sneaks to Karlach’s bed. She insists they sleep in the same one, despite Erebos’ protests he’ll disturb her rest with his troubled trance, and their large frames making any bed a tight fit.
As predicted, Karlach rouses from the slight jostle of the mattress even Erebos’ formidable stealth can’t avoid. She startles, still half asleep, before recognition and a warm smile, raising the blanket to invite Erebos closer. He’s helpless but to follow her request, hiding between her arms as if the world could ever be rid of a thing as large and bloodied as him. She squeezes him nonetheless, hugging his head to her chest and dragging her fingers through his hair, humming a content sound that’s almost a purr when her tail finds his legs.
“Hello, love,” she mumbles against his forehead, lips tickling the white flame etched in his skin. The moment is tender beyond belief, so much so Erebos has to bite his lip bloody not to say something stupid.
This could be one of the last moments they have with each other. Orin waits upon their father’s altar, slaughter on her mind. And, well, he doesn’t plan to disappoint her. Someone will die: Bhaal’s legacy will go unanswered if it’s the last thing he does.
He seizes Karlach’s hand where it’s cheekily settled on his ass, air caught in his lungs. Not yet, he can’t. He promised he’d deliver vengeance by her side. But what can he do?
“Karlach. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you. I’d do anything,” Erebos’ lips quiver for just a moment around the words. But he says them. “I love you.”
There’s a pause, and Karlach sniffs. “I love you, too. You idiot,” her hand cups his cheek, clawed thumb tracing the laugh lines at the corner of his mouth. “I’d rather you lived, if it’s all the same to you. You can do this, I know you can.” It’s quiet and sure. She’s wrong, but her steady tone soothes Erebos more than words ever could.
He takes her hand in his, kisses the heel with devotion. Perhaps something more. “Anything,” he whispers back and Karlach’s smile is round and beautiful. He feels like a fraud.
“Goodnight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,” and Karlach gives him a loud kiss on the forehead before hugging him like she does with Clive. Erebos closes his eyes, the engine quieting against his ear to a slow, reassuring clack-clack-clack . Working. Alive . Who knows how long for.
His trance takes him before he even realises. He thinks of amber eyes and burning skin under his lips; the scent of the forest and calloused palms against his own.