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The events of the last few days had left Tav more empty than her tankard. Empty was her mind without the parasite in it and hollow was her heart after her lover had been brutally killed by an enthralled red dragon. The dragon had been dispatched afterwards, and she was robbed of an opportunity to satisfy the void in her with revenge. The Absolute lost, but so did Tav.
What would've Halsin said about her drowning her sorrows in ale?
Not even in wine. Wine was reserved for the merry nights. For a time of celebration, for a hearty meal with your family, or an evening with a loved one. People still drank cheap wine when nothing else was in stock, comparing it to goat piss before draining their mugs anyway in a happy stupid daze.
Tav preferred ale when she just wanted to be knocked out. She had picked wine on the night of their victory over the Absolute to keep appearances, like it even mattered.
That evening, she cared little about keeping a face. Grief wasn't about that. And she deserved to mourn him as she saw fit. Halsin would've understood. He always understood her.
She didn't remember much. Elfsong was unusually quiet with mostly regulars nursing their favourite drinks and the shady figures hiding in the corners. It'd been full at the celebration. Tav missed Karlach's booming laughter and Astarion's meandering cadence whispering tempting things into her ear. Karlach had to depart soon after to the Hells. Astarion was forced to hide in the shadows till nighttime, but he was still in town somewhere.
She and Shadowheart stayed together for some time out of habit, although the cleric mentioned she had planned to travel. So Tav was prepared to let her go, as she let Gale go, back to the Waterdeep.
Eventually, Shadowheart had left her too.
They’d drank to Halsin’s peaceful rest back then, and she was telling herself that's what she was doing now. In truth, she’d been drowning her sorrows and justifying it by some poetical honouring of loss. Deep down, Tav knew she was honouring only the Innkeeper’s purse.
It mattered little. She drank and had barely recognised a familiar voice when she was called by her name. He sounded relieved and soft, and Tav raised her bleary eyes to look at him.
Some people in her life existed only when they came to greet her. Zevlor was one of those people. He’d had his hand in her misfortune by his arse getting stuck in trouble more than once. She could’ve, of course, ignored this sorry excuse for a tiefling from the very start and not helped him, but it wasn't how she did her business. She could have ignored a whole lot of sorry excuses for tieflings and Rolan would’ve been dead by now, too. Sometimes refugees seemed to be seeking their death like lemmings in migration.
Not questioning what Zevlor had forgotten in the most popular tavern in all of Baldur's Gate, Tav lifted her tankard to wave in his approximate direction and drank some more.
She recalled him inquiring what the occasion was. Tav said Halsin, or, in other words, the truth. It wouldn't have changed anything if she lied to Zevlor, because it was just Zevlor who was trying to be polite and nothing more. But he wanted to honour Halsin's memory too, so he had joined her and even shared a drink with her. Perhaps he asked her more questions, but that had been erased from her memory.
Tav remembered scrutinizing him in haze and thinking that he was a peculiar looking guy. A devil, a paladin, at that. Old man. Younger than Astarion, though. God forbid her to ever share that thought with Astarion.
There was a time skip in between an episode of them sitting at the table and them stumbling through the corridor on the second floor. Tav hugged a wall and was trying to open every door she could see, yet they’d been locked to her luck. Zevlor's mumbling followed her, perhaps in an attempt to reason with her and guide her to her destination. Apparently he wasn't as wasted and didn't dare to touch her even when Tav had lost her balance in front of him and dropped on all fours. She was slurring her words and looked, no doubt, absolutely pathetic. She couldn't understand why Zevlor hadn't left her sleeping on the corridor carpet.
She had mistaken kindness for less chivalrous intentions.
Tav made a clumsy attempt at seduction which he politely deflected, then she kissed him regardless and he slapped her as a maiden defending her dignity would've done. It should've played differently. In Tav’s world it was an expected behaviour of an older man; to try and catch the damsel in distress for a roll in the hay.
That's what Tav thought Zevlor was doing, but he slapped her when she initiated. That sobered her up quite a bit. She apologised immediately. She looked at him with the kind of guilt she’d never ever felt in her entire life before. His eyes were wide open, two glowing orbs in the dark of her room.
That clash somehow led to him crowding her against the wall and them rubbing on each other like adolescents. Everything else was a blur; the ridged texture of his skin under her palm, his claws digging into the flesh of her thighs, the scent of the campfire engraved into him, the rumble of his voice, the heat and weight of his cock. The burst of pleasure in her as his thumb relentlessly circled her clit with no trouble caused by the sharp nail.
Oak Father forgive her, it’d been only a week after her lover’s death and she’d already jumped into bed with another. Ironically, Halsin would've still understood her. Even though she herself did not.
She'd never wondered how good Zevlor was at sex, yet she felt no regrets come morning. He left her a note, that knight in shiny armour; he’d written at length how sorry he was for his outburst. He had promised that should she wish to find him, he would be at his quarters next to the Watch barracks.
Tav had been struck with nausea before she'd managed to read the last sentence, but it had nothing to do with the letter. She got the important message: Zevlor wished to see her again. If both of them were looking forward to a meeting after Tav had ridden him half-conscious, they might both enjoy it was she to mount him clear-minded. He had provided her a distraction and she decided to take what she'd been given.
So she took him up on his offer and found him on the next day when the hungover had retreated. He did live next to the Watch office and, in his words, worked there thanks to Ravenguard’s newly returned son’s influence. Having a tiefling in the military force was the first step, Zevlor told her. The knowledge of what he'd been occupied with after the battle changed nothing for Tav. He could mop floors in the bank if it was his fancy. None of it included his arse being stuck in unfortunate situations that she'd have to rescue him out of, which was fine with her.
Without the blur and grief in her way, Tav found Zevlor rather charming and dependable. He was far from tall, unlike Halsin, but his shoulder was a solid wall that she could lean onto.
At the sight of her, he seemed just as relieved as before. He even wagged his tail, and she laughed. A family dog, only with horns.
Tav dragged him into her bed again and made sure he wouldn't wish to leave it in the foreseeable future. Zevlor was flexible, melting as she sucked him at leisure and shaping into iron hold on her hips as he thrust into her. Tav had bitten him to provoke him, she wanted him to treat her roughly, to bruise her enough so she would forget her body belonged to a dead man. He moaned, and squirmed, and cursed even in her hands, but she hadn't received any harm from him besides a few claw marks. Tav had broken down and cried after another spectacular orgasm and then she couldn't stop crying. Zevlor held her, whispering reassurances into her hair as she wept because her previous lover was dead and the current one refused to hurt her.
He was a sorry excuse for a tiefling, but he deserved better, so much better than this. Zevlor knew what was happening and had known since the first night, but he let her use him as a leverage, he didn't mind her climbing up his body to get out of an insatiable void in her chest. He stood unmoved and calm on the edge, dragging her up, up out of the hole she had made.
Tav never went near paladins for that very reason. She preferred mutual selfishness, and paladins couldn't be that. But her sense of preservation had been somewhat compromised after Halsin’s death, so she wasn't thinking about who she took into her bed. Zevlor was a misleading man; a devious face, and a soft heart. Tav risked simply crushing him.
She could crush him, climbing out of her mournful thoughts. She knew she should've stopped before one of them fell in love.
But Tav was a selfish person. So she took, and took, and took from him until he was spent and ruined, and both of them lay in bliss.
The dam had broken after she'd cried on his shoulder, and they talked about Halsin until morning came. Zevlor shared his memories of the time in the Grove. His first impression was the same as hers; he had wondered how the fuck that elf had grown so large. Tav was utterly astonished that Halsin had tried to flirt with Zevlor, but actually, it was indeed something the druid would've done. He saw friendship and alliance in a different kind of way. These two sturdy men had shared meals and worries about their people. Zevlor was there when the dragon had snapped its jaws, and had seen something that Tav couldn't as she was stuck in the portal. When she’d been thrown out of it, victorious, Zevlor had already known the sacrifices had been made.
He admitted he had come to the Elfsong that evening for dinner and to see her. Her horrified face haunted him since the battle, and his soft paladin heart failed to cope with that. He hadn't planned to bed her, or kiss her, or anything of the sort, but when Tav crossed the boundaries and he slapped her, and she then looked at him with those miserable eyes, he wanted nothing more than to be someone worthy of her apology. He’d been lonely for too long and was saved by her far too many times. So he had given in to his own lust and gratitude.
Zevlor told her it's because he was an old fool. She replied that the only old fool of them two was her. Tav understood him as Halsin understood her, and when he dropped to one knee so many weeks later, she wasn't even that surprised. The ring was of a simple design, gold melded with silver not unlike his kindness overlapped her bitterness.
She knew perfectly well she would regret it when she’s forty and he’s a memorial in the town’s graveyard. They'd have twenty years together at most, but she was content with that. Her life would matter more with this sorry excuse for a tiefling at her side. A sorry excuse for a husband.
Perhaps she should've stopped before one of them fell in love, yet her worries were for naught since they’d fallen for each other at the same time. Some people in her life existed without her knowing, waiting to destroy her at an appropriate moment. The devil lurked in the shadows and had chosen the right time to help her out of the mire. But the devil was of a soft heart and the mire had been of her own making, so she didn't mind that.
When they were watching the sunset at the docks one day Tav told him he was a family dog, only with horns. Zevlor snorted and called her a displacer beast with tits, and she laughed like a hyena at that until she was wrecked with a bout of hiccups.