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The thick veil of the shadow curse hung over Naadja. Darkness clung to her, seeping to her bones. She was used to the shadows, having spent so much of her life in the dark. But this was something else entirely. There was no comfort, no solace. Only suffocating shadow.
She walked the edge of the Last Light Inn, hoping to clear her mind as she prepared herself for what might be at Moonrise Towers. She'd been cautious, taking care that the blessings bestowed upon her to ward off the shadows were fully intact. And still, in her caution, she had not noticed she wasn't alone.
The cool sting of steel was instantly pressed against her neck.
“Don't move, dobluth.” The voice was unmistakably familiar.
“Zafyna.” Naadja whispered. The assassin at her throat was none other than her scorned lover. She should have known the shadows would not keep Lolth's forces at bay.
Zafyna pressed the blade further, not enough to draw blood but a warning. “Ulu z’hin maglust dal Qu'eller lueth Valsaress zhah ulu z'hin wund lil phalar.” The drowic language rolled off her tongue like poetry. Naadja knew it well. ‘To walk apart from house and Queen is to walk into the grave’
“You'll kill me, then? Will my head be tribute to the Web Mother?” Naadja asked, though she had long since accepted her fate.
Zafyna gripped Naadja's hair, pulling her head back to make the point. “Yes. And in your final breath you will beg her for a forgiveness she will never bestow upon you.” She pressed the blade again, and Naadja tensed in her arms.
“Her, or you?” Naadja touched Zafyna’s hand that held the blade. It was rougher now than it was before, but she could still remember holding it as her lover. Neither of them moved for a moment.
“You should do it. I deserve it.” Naadja held her hand as Zafyna wavered.
“I know.”
“Then kill me.” She pressed the blade until blood rolled against the column of her throat.
Zafyna shut her eyes and wrenched the blade from Naadja's throat to drive it into her chest. When she opened them again, blood was slowly trickling through Naadja's robes, staining the fabric against the steel.
“Naadja… no.” Her hands shook and voice wavered as she pulled the blade from her lover's heart. Naadja gasped, sinking to the ground as deep red bloomed against her chest.
She held the wound, choking for air. Her eyes closed as she lost consciousness. Zafyna held the sorceress’ face as the life left her lilac eyes. She watched as her only purpose ceased to exist. And her reward? Silence. Not a word from Lolth, no boon to be gained.
Blinking away the tears, she looked around at the shadows. Perhaps Lolth would not find her so deep in the cursed lands. Pressing her forehead against Naadja's, she cast revivify, imbuing her with life once again. She was stable, but not conscious. If she wanted a fighting chance, she'd have to find it from someone else.
“Goodbye.”
—--
Sharess’ Caress was a sort of focal point in Naadja's adventure. Her responsibilities to her companions grew and scattered themselves across Baldur’s Gate. Those paths had led to the brothel.
Originally, her plan was to find the investigator responsible for a case she was watching for cult activity. Really, it was none of her business who killed who, but she liked secrets. There was always truth tucked away in secrets and rumours.
So she bounded up the stairs of the brothel in search of the celestial, not being particularly aware of her surroundings in such a public space.
She made it as far as the landing when a pair of hands caught her, pulling her into the doorway of a private room.
As if by the force of her propulsion, the heavy wooden doors shut, trapping her inside.
Teeth sunk into the fleshy palm wrapping around Naadja’s mouth. The hot metallic bite of blood trickled into her mouth as the hand tore itself from her maw.
She was spun around so violently she thought she'd topple. A hard slap met her face and sent blood splattering against it.
The blood that had accumulated in her mouth was spat in the face of her assailant and Naadja registered with wide eyes who they truly were.
“Fuck!” Zafyna shouted, wiping the blood from her eyes.
Out of pure instinct and self preservation, Naadja lunged forward and tackled the girl before her. Their bodies collided with the floor with a resounding thud, knocking Zafyna on her back and stealing the breath from her lungs.
A knee lodged itself in Naadja's ribs, tossing her to the side, offering Zafyna the opportunity to trap Naadja beneath her. Her hands wrapped around Naadja’s wrists, pinning her to the ground.
Naadja thought to use a spell, something to incapacitate the assassin holding her in place. But any somatic requirements would not be met whilst she was restrained. Becoming increasingly desperate, she yelled.
“Help! Someone!” Naadja shouted, earning her a hard shove into the wooden floor.
“You're in a brothel, you stupid thing,” she bore her eyes into Naadja's, successfully intimidating her into silence. “They're not coming to save you.” She held Naadja’s squirming body until she ceased.
Without the sounds of their exertion, the two felt the weight of the silence that filled the room.
“I need your help.”
Naadja blinked, absorbing what had just been said. To prove she was sincere, Zafyna released Naadja's wrists and slowly raised herself up from the ground. Cautiously, Naadja got up as well, and moved to put some distance between the pale drow and herself.
“You had your chance to kill me.” Naadja began, defensive.
“That's not why I'm here.” She said, wiping the drying blood and spit from her chin.
Naadja handed her a square of linen from inside her robe, pulling it back as Zafyna reached for it. “Why are you here?” She asked, raising a brow at Zafyna.
Snatching the handkerchief, Zafyna wiped her face, muffling her words as she spoke. “Moonrise.”
“I remember it well.” The irritation in Naadja's voice, unmasked. She watched Zafyna pocket the fabric in annoyance.
“Then you remember what it held.” Zafyna tapped her temple, gesturing to her eye as she did so.
An unease crept into Naadja's skin. “You too?” A flash of remorse danced across Naadja's eyes before retreating. It seemed Zafyna’s proximity to Moonrise hadn't gone unnoticed by the cult. She too had the same affliction as Naadja.
How she escaped was beyond her, but Zafyna had proven herself more elusive than she appeared.
“Yes, and whatever you're doing to stop this- I want in.”
Naadja scoffed. “You cannot be serious.”
“I've been watching you for a long time. I know what that thing you carry does for you” It was obvious she meant the artifact. “I've seen what I'll become when we part. I feel it pull for me when you're not near. I hear Her voice calling me.”
Naadja shook her head in disbelief. She could not believe her former lover, her assasin, was asking to be her companion. Insisting, really. What was Naadja supposed to say?
Welcoming her wasn't an option. She'd died by Zafyna’s hand and she'd been hunted for upwards of a decade. And if she says no? Zafyna’s death would be on her own hands if the cultists were to assimilate her..
“This really isn't fair.”
“Fair? Do you have any idea how ‘fair’ you've been to me?”
Naadja wanted to argue, to say she had no choice but to leave her. That Zafyna had had her vengeance. What more did she owe her?
“You just keep happening,” Zafyna’s tone became much more somber, nearly hollow without its bitterness. “I tried to let you go- I killed you. But everywhere I turn I walk right back to you.”
Naadja let her talk, the erratic way she spoke suggested she needed as much. And if she opened her mouth, she wasn't sure she could say much of anything.
“When I sharpen my blade, it's your heart I think of. And I find myself wanting it sharp; not because I want your death, but because a clean cut is easiest to heal.”
Naadja's body moved of its own accord, embracing her. The hug was stiff and odd but there was that old familiar feeling that's not quite the same. But they cling to it, because it's all they know. They clinged as if letting go might banish the feeling forever. Like if they held on long enough, it would be the same again.
“I missed you.” Naadja whispered so low that even she could not hear herself.
When Naadja inhaled, she couldn't stop the tears that welled in her eyes. As if to hide her face, she leaned further into the embrace, dragging her chin upwards and pressing her lips against Zafyna’s.
The kiss was slow, shaky. Neither wanted to move as they stood stationary. Then, all at once, they crashed against each other.
Hands tugged at hair, pulling clothes and caressing skin. Neither could tell who's touch belonged to whom, only that they moved as one. And finally, the pieces of themselves that had been empty for so long had been completed.
Tears were openly falling as Naadja pushed Zafyna onto the bed. Their tangled limbs latched together as if they were made to.
“I don't remember a time before you.” Zafyna spoke through the sobs that seized her.
Naadja kissed her face, holding her close. The reality of how futile it all was began to dawn on her. The promises that could never have been kept, the battles for survival. None of it mattered. They couldn't love each other like they used to, it was a broken thing they had.
But they had something. And as they cradled each other in tear-stained affection, nothing else mattered.