#Brem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eolasesayelan · 6 months ago

Text

Relationship: Garias x OFC

Words: 5,602

Summary: Brem and Garias are running a scam during the Masquerade of Liars in Neverwinter, selling masks that are 100% magical, wear one and your luck will surely change! What do you mean the guards are coming, gotta go...

Tags: Crimes & Criminals, Attempted Seduction, But Forgive Him He Is Stupid, Lucky For Him She Is Into That Shit, No Smut, Kissing

Thank you @dustdeepsea ❤️ for your suggestions and pointing out my mistakes [bows] you shall forevermore be my numbers expert, muah. (づ￣ 3￣)づ Also for bringing the Masquerade of Liars to my attention, without you this fic would not exist. They have written many amazing fics, and are currently writing a Rugan/Tav fic called, Gods and Monsters. Check out their AO3 too!

And thank you @my-favourite-zhent for your ideas and helping me with the pacing [smooches you gently on the forehead] (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ They have also written many incredible Rugan/Tav fics and are currently writing a fic called, New Tricks. Check out their AO3 too!

Thank you @lizziemajestic for helping me with Tavvy, to make sure I did right by her.(p≧w≦q)💗 You really need to check out their fics, they write bastards so incredibly well and are currently writing an Aradin/Adrielle fic called, The Vigilant Heart. Check out their AO3 too!

Wishing Veils

The streets of Neverwinter were alive with vibrant chaos as the Masquerade of Liars swept through the city. Candles flickered from inside carved pumpkins, casting strange shadows, while revelers in elaborate costumes filled every corner with laughter and tricks. It was the perfect night for Brem and Garias to run their latest scheme.

The brothers had found the ideal spot: a busy intersection where festival-goers were funneling through. They had set up a booth in the heart of the bustling street, under the cover of hanging lanterns and streamers that rustled in the night air. A large, hand-painted sign above their stall proudly declared, "Wishing Veils: Change Your Fate Tonight!" It was eye-catching, painted in deep reds and shimmering golds, with mystical symbols curling along the edges as if the magic itself was seeping from the wood.

Brem was already in character. He wore a flowing dark robe with intricate patterns that sparkled under the candlelight, a hood pulled low over his face to give him an air of mystery. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd as he adjusted the display of masks in front of the booth, each one ornately painted in bold colors—blues, greens, and silvers—and decorated with glittering beads and feathers. The masks looked exquisite, but they were cheaply made, cobbled together from the cheapest materials they could find. No one needed to know that, though. Brem’s practiced hands gave the display one last touch, making sure everything was ready for the act.

"Oi, these masks are worth more than half the coins in this city," Garias remarked as he fiddled with one of the props, his attention drifting as he watched a bird fly overhead, its feathers catching the light. Anything bright and colorful always seemed to steal his focus.

"Keep starin’ up at the sky like that, someone's gonna fly off with your purse, little brother," Brem teased, checking the small hidden compartment beneath the counter. A few simple tricks were stashed there—smoke powder and small spark stones—nothing too fancy, just enough to add a bit of magic to the scam.

"Birds know where the real fortune is," Garias said, his voice dreamy.

"Hold it together, will you? We’ve gotta start pullin’ in the crowd soon. I’ll do the talkin’, you just flash that daft grin and act like you’ve struck gold with one of these masks," Brem reminded him.

The booth had been set up with care. Colorful banners dangled above, swaying in the breeze. A collection of small, odd trinkets lay scattered on the table besides the masks, adding to the illusion that this was more than just a merchant’s stall—it was a place of magic and wonder. In the corner, a carved wooden chest sat slightly ajar, gleaming contents just barely visible. It was all part of Brem’s carefully crafted image.

"You ready?" Brem asked, flicking a sparkstone between his fingers, sending a small flash of light across the booth. Satisfied, he smirked.

Garias turned from his bird-watching, giving a lazy salute. "Aye, ready as I’ll ever be.”

He casually grabbed one of the more elaborate masks from the table—an ivory one adorned with gold feathers—and pulled it over his face. "I can already feel ma luck changin’!"

Brem snorted. “Let’s hope so. Otherwise, tonight’s gonna feel longer than a bloody peacock’s tail.”

Brem adjusted his robes one final time, a glint in his eye as he prepared to deliver the pitch. Garias stood nearby, lazily fiddling with a brightly colored mask as if he’d already forgotten his role. But Brem knew his little brother would come through when the time was right.

With a deep breath, Brem stepped up to the front of their makeshift booth, raising his arms high in a grand gesture that immediately drew the attention of passersby. His voice rang out, smooth and commanding, cutting through the din of the festival.

“Gather 'round, my friends, gather 'round! Tonight is no ordinary night The Masquerade of Liars brings with it secrets, fortune, and magic! And here—right here—you’ve got a chance to turn the night in your favor!”

"Step right up, ladies and gents! We’re offering you more than just masks. We’re offering a chance to change your fate! These ain’t no ordinary masks—oh no! These are enchanted by the gods themselves!" Brem's words poured out like honey, and the first curious heads began to turn.

A small crowd gathered, their eyes drawn to the mask spread across the table. Each one painted with shimmering colors, feathers, and beads. On a night like this, with magic and mystery in the air, it was easy to believe in such things.

Brem continued his pacing, moving with practiced ease in front of the booth. “You see, tonight, the veil between luck and misfortune is thin. But with one of these masks, you can tip the scales in your favor! Wear a mask, and not only will you join the Masquerade—you’ll draw good fortune to you like a moth to flame! Wealth, love, adventure—they’ll seek you out as surely as the moon pulls the tides.”

Suddenly, Garias stumbled into view, wearing the ivory mask with its gold feathers fluttering in the breeze. He played his part perfectly, a look of exaggerated joy plastered on his face, as if the mask had already worked its magic.

The crowd murmured with interest. Garias grinned from ear to ear, flashing his brother a subtle thumbs-up behind his back.

More people began to gather, and Brem could feel the anticipation building, the lure of possibility and fortune driving them closer. It was only a matter of time before someone took the bait.

“These masks, my friends, are not for the faint of heart,” Brem declared, his voice dipping to a conspiratorial tone. “But for those bold enough to seize the night, for those who believe in the magic of the Masquerade, they are priceless!” With a flick of his wrist, Brem sent a small cascade of sparks into the air from a hidden sparkstone, eliciting gasps from the onlookers.

A man at the front of the crowd raised his hand, clearly intrigued. “What kind of luck are we talkin’ about here?”

Brem smiled broadly, as if he had been waiting for just that question. “Ah, my good man, the sort of luck that brings riches, charm, and danger—if that’s what you seek. Some say the wearer of these masks has the ear of Leira, the Lady of Deception herself. Others claim Mask, the Lord of Shadows, will smile upon you as you dance through the night. Could be the fortune of love”—he cast a wink toward a few couples in the crowd—“or the thrill of adventure! What you get depends on the mask you choose.”

The man and several others were hooked now, edging closer to the booth, eyeing the masks with newfound interest. Garias wandered over to Brem, pretending to wipe his brow.

“Blimey, would ye look at this crowd! An’ here I was thinkin’ I’d be the only lucky one tonight!” Garias laughed, slinging an arm over Brem’s shoulder. “Don’ ken you ‘bout ye lot, but ever since I slapped this beauty on, been feelin’ like I could win every game o’ dice I play!”

Brem smirked, playing along. “Careful now, don’t go spending all your fortune in one place.”

A woman in a sophisticated robe stepped up, eyes gleaming behind her mask. “How much?” she asked, her hand already reaching for a small purse at her side.

Brem tilted his head slightly, considering her with a knowing smile. “Ah, but it’s not about the coin, dear lady. It’s about the choice. Every mask has its own luck attached to it. I can sense the pull of fate—and yes, I think I’ve got just the one for you.”

He reached down and picked up an elaborate, gold-painted mask adorned with large emerald feathers and handed it to her. “This one’s yours. For but ten gold, doors will open for you tonight that were once firmly shut. Opportunities you’ve only dreamed of.”

The woman hesitated for only a moment before smiling and handing over the coins. Brem handed her the mask with a flourish, bowing slightly as she placed it on her face. “Good fortune to you, m’lady. You’ll see its effects soon enough.”

Others in the crowd, seeing the exchange, began stepping forward, eager to try their luck as well. The promise of magic, even if it was just for one night, was too tempting to resist.

Garias, now beaming with pride, leaned into Brem. “See? Told you the birds know where the real fortune is.”

Brem grinned, already counting their growing earnings in his head. “You just keep flapping those wings, little brother, and we’ll be flying high by the end of the night.”

Coins clinked into the booth’s chest as more and more Wishing Veils were sold, each more ordinary than the last, but each person convinced they were carrying a bit of fortune on their face.

Brem flicked a glance at Garias. "Keep an eye on the crowd. We’re doin’ well, but we can’t get too comfortable."

Garias, still holding the last mask he had shown off to a nearby customer, tilted his head. "Aye, Brem. I can do that. I mean—what am I lookin' for again?"

"Guards, you twat," Brem muttered, already scanning the street around them.

As he said it, Brem caught the glint of something in the crowd. Something too shiny to belong to any of the costumed revelers. He turned his head, his sharp instincts confirming what he feared: guards. Two of them, their polished armor glinting under the lantern light, cutting through the crowd with purpose.

His stomach clenched, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with tension. They had been getting away with different scams for weeks—months even. The Neverwinter Guard had been distracted with the aftermath of the Siege, the chaos of the city keeping them busy. But not anymore. These guards were on the lookout. Brem could tell by the way their eyes swept the market stalls, the way they moved with determination.

They were looking for someone. For them.

Brem’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. He leaned toward Garias, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "Heads up. We’ve got company—guards, two of ‘em."

Garias blinked at him, the words taking a moment to settle. "What, they want a mask too? I can gie ‘em the one wi’ the feathers—"

Brem smacked the back of his brother’s head lightly. "No, you fool! They’re here for us. Time to move."

Brem’s mind raced. They couldn’t just pack up—it would look too suspicious. They needed a distraction, fast.

"Here’s what we’re gonna do," Brem said, eyes darting around the crowd. "You start makin’ a scene; loud, flashy, something to draw ‘em off. I’ll handle the booth."

Garias grinned like a child given permission to cause trouble. "A scene, huh? Birds it is, then."

Before Brem could say more, Garias leaped onto the booth, arms spread wide. "LADIES AN’ GENTS!" he bellowed, his voice booming over the crowd. "HAE YE EVER SEEN A YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD?!"

The crowd turned, eyes widening in confusion. Laughter rippled through the crowd as Garias continued, his voice growing more animated with each word.

"Nae?! Well, let me tell ye—there ain’t no bird like it! Feathers a’ golden an’ bright, like a wee piece o’ sunshine itself!"

Brem, despite the urgency, smirked. Good ol' Garias, he thought. He might be slow, but when it came to causing chaos, he had a gift.

Some festival-goers pointed and cheered at Garias’s antics. The guards, now nearly at the booth, hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the sudden spectacle.

It was enough.

Brem moved swiftly. He slipped behind the counter, tucking the bags of coins into hidden pockets in his cloak. As the crowd pressed in closer, he casually started handing out masks—free gifts to keep up appearances. Anything to clear the booth. He kept his head low, always watching the guards out of the corner of his eye.

"Last chance for a Wishing Veil!" Brem shouted, glancing at the guards, who were pushing their way through the throng now. "Get yours before they’re gone!"

One of the guards finally shook off his confusion and began pushing through the crowd again, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Brem. But by then, Brem was already stashing the last of their haul.

"Right, time to go, Garias!" Brem called.

Garias, still caught up in his bird-themed performance, barely registered the command. "What, now?" he shouted back, flapping his arms wildly. "But I was just gettin’ to the best part—the feathers—"

"Yes, now!" Brem snapped, eyes flicking toward the guards.

Garias cackled, jumping down from the booth with all the grace of a drunken pigeon. He landed with a thud, stumbling slightly before regaining his balance. "Fine, fine. Birds can wait!"

Brem tossed a handful of masks into the air, creating a minor frenzy as the crowd scrambled to catch them. It was just enough chaos to cover their escape.

With the guards momentarily distracted by the crowd, Brem grabbed Garias by the arm, pulling him through the throng of festival-goers. The sound of laughter and music filled the air as they darted between the stalls, weaving through the masses like shadows.

Garias, still laughing as if the whole thing was a grand joke, glanced at Brem. "Did ye see their faces, Brem? Like they’ve never heard o’ birds before!"

Brem rolled his eyes, barely suppressing his own grin. "They’ll be hearin’ about us soon enough if ye don’t pick up the pace!"

As they skidded around a corner, they barreled straight into a costume stall, knocking over a rack of flamboyant hats and cloaks. "Here, put this on!" Garias said, grabbing a ridiculously feathered mask and throwing it at Brem.

Brem caught the mask, but not without muttering, "What am I, a bloody peacock?" He shoved it onto his face anyway. Garias was already donning a flowing, garish cape that was way too long for him, and for a brief moment, the two blended in perfectly with the other costumed festival-goers as they pranced alongside a parade.

The guards slowed down, squinting into the crowd, trying to pick out their targets among the swirl of colorful masks and feathers. "Keep dancin', Brem!" Garias whispered, half-laughing as they awkwardly sashayed past the guards.

Brem threw him a glare but reluctantly joined in, moving to the rhythm of a nearby band, his stiff movements making them look even more conspicuous. "If we get caught, it's because you’ve got the grace o' a cow," he muttered.

Garias stifled a laugh, doing his best to mimic the extravagant dance moves of the festival-goers around them. He twirled, waving his arms dramatically, his cape billowing behind him. For a brief moment, it looked like they might actually blend in.

Just when they thought they had slipped away unnoticed, Brem's mask slipped sideways, revealing his fiery orange hair.

One of the guards, scanning the crowd, caught sight of the familiar flame-colored locks. "There they are!" he shouted, pointing straight at them.

"Aw, hells," Brem cursed under his breath.

Without missing a beat, Garias grabbed Brem by the arm. "Time tae go!" he shouted, throwing off the cape and darting toward the food stalls. Brem barely had time to react before they crashed through the nearest one—a vendor selling pastries. Trays clattered, and flour filled the air as they barreled past.

Without thinking, Garias grabbed an armful of pies. "Sorry 'bout this!" he called to the vendor, who looked on in disbelief, as Garias launched one of the pies at the nearest guard.

SPLAT The guard took the pie straight to the face, stumbling backward into a stack of bread loaves. The loaves flew through the air in a flurry of baked chaos, knocking over a display of tarts.

Brem, not one to miss an opportunity, grabbed a few more pies. With surprising accuracy, he lobbed them one after the other, each finding its mark on a guard’s face or chest.

The scene quickly devolved into chaos. Guards tripped over each other, slipping on spilled cream and scattered pastries. One of them, in his haste to avoid another flying pie, ran headlong into a wooden shop sign hanging low across the street. CLANG! The sign wobbled dangerously as the guard clutched his head and staggered back, dazed.

Garias couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight. "Ye alright, mate?" he called, barely containing his amusement.

"Run, ye fool!" Brem yelled, shoving Garias ahead as they dashed through the next row of stalls, knocking over baskets of fruit and leaving a trail of chaos in their wake.

The market erupted into pandemonium as Garias and Brem sprinted through the narrow lanes, dodging carts and leaping over overturned baskets. The guards were in complete disarray behind them, slipping on mashed fruit and stumbling into bewildered vendors.

"Stick close!" Brem’s voice cut through the noise, urgency in his tone as they darted through the crowd of masked revelers. The guards hot on their tail.

"I’m tryin’!" Garias panted, stumbling as the crowd shifted around them like a living thing, festival-goers jostling and dancing. His heart raced, feet tangling as he tried to keep up with his older brother. Brem was quick, sharp-eyed, and always had an escape plan. Garias, on the other hand, was not so nimble—or smart.

The crowd surged, and suddenly Garias was cut off, shoved aside by a group of revelers who were too caught up in their own drunken merriment to notice him. He tripped over his own feet, careening into a vendor’s cart.

“Oi, watch it!” the vendor shouted as fruit spilled onto the cobblestones. Garias scrambled to his feet, head whipping around to find Brem, but his brother had already disappeared into the sea of masks and costumes.

Panic seized him. The guards were closing in, and he was alone. Garias’ eyes darted wildly, looking for an escape. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted it: a wrought iron gate leading into a grand estate’s garden, just slightly ajar.

“That’ll dae,” he muttered, heart pounding. He sprinted toward the gate, slipping through and pulling it shut behind him, hoping the guards wouldn’t notice. The estate’s garden was a quiet, peaceful oasis compared to the chaos of the festival outside. Manicured hedges, blooming flowers, and softly glowing lanterns created an almost magical atmosphere. He crouched low behind a bush, trying to catch his breath.

The muffled shouts of the guards passed by the gate, growing fainter. Garias exhaled in relief, his heart still racing. But just as he thought he was safe, a voice broke the silence.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Garias froze, peeking out from behind the bush. Standing a few feet away was the noblewoman from the festival, unmistakable in her elaborate attire. She wore the same Wishing Veils mask Brem had sold her. One side of the mask was shaped like a peacock, painted in gleaming gold, adorned with vibrant emerald feathers that fanned out majestically. The other side was a traditional masquerade mask, delicate filigree etched in silver curling along the edges.

Her robes were deep, rich green, the fabric shimmering in the soft glow of the lanterns. The gown flowed around her like liquid silk, accentuating her tall, elegant frame. Her pointed ears poked through the curls, adding an ethereal quality to her appearance. She gazed at him with a knowing smile, as if she were already a step ahead in whatever game fate had drawn him into.

She stared at Garias, her brows furrowing slightly. “Do I know ye?” she asked, stepping closer. “Ye look familiar.”

He swallowed hard, standing up slowly, leaves sticking to his clothes. He tried to muster his best innocent smile. “Uh, me? I don’ think so, m’lady.”

She tilted her head, looking at him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. “Passing through? In ma garden?” There was a hint of amusement in her voice now, as if this were all some kind of game.

“Ye know how it is,” Garias stammered. “Festivals, eh? Ye go one way, end up… somewhere ye didnae mean to.”

Her eyes lingered on him, then widened slightly as if something clicked in her mind. “Wait…” She placed a hand over her heart, her expression softening. “Could it be?”

Garias blinked, confused. “Could what be?”

“The mask!” she exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. She touched the Wishing Veil on her head. “It promised me luck, that an ‘open door’ would bring me fortune. And then ye appeared, just like that. Could ye be ma good fortune?”

“Me? Good fortune?” he muttered, trying to grasp the situation.

She gasped softly, clearly thrilled by the idea. “I didnae think the magic would work so quick. Ye must be a sign!”

He glanced at the iron gate he’d slipped through, then back at her. It hadn’t exactly been the ‘open door’ he’d imagined, but if this lady thought he was her lucky charm, who was he to argue?

“Maybe I am,” he said, offering a nervous grin. He straightened up, dusting the leaves off his clothes as best he could.

She clasped her hands together, her smile lighting up the night. “I knew it! Ye must stay!” She gestured towards the grand doors of her estate. "Come inside, join me for dinner.”

Garias hesitated for a moment, thinking of Brem and the guards still out there. But then again, a cozy, noblewoman’s home sounded far better than getting dragged off in chains.

“Aye, m’lady,” He said with a wink, slipping easily into the role she was expecting. “I’d be honored.”

With a dramatic bow, he followed her towards the grand doors, the chaos of the festival fading behind them as he found himself wrapped in the warmth of her luxurious home.

The dining room was nothing like Garias had ever seen. A grand space, with tall windows draped in heavy velvet curtains, and a long, polished table that seemed to stretch on forever, covered in gleaming silverware and ornate china. Candles flickered softly in intricate candelabras, casting a warm, golden light across the room. The soft clink of porcelain echoed in the quiet air as a servant quietly moved about, setting plates of food before them.

Garias, still rattled from his mad dash through the city streets, sat stiffly at the table, looking wildly out of place among the finery. His eyes darted between the noblewoman and the lavish spread of food before him. He couldn't help but marvel at the roasted meats, delicate pastries, and fruits arranged like artwork.

The servant had just left after serving yet another course of decadent food, a savory roast draped in a rich sauce. He tried to pace himself, having already eaten more than he was used to.

Her fingers trailed along the stem of her wine glass. “Tell me, do ye often burst into a noblewoman’s garden in the dead of night, uninvited?” she asked, her eyes never leaving his face.

Garias swallowed quickly, trying to hide his unease. “That was, uh, a wee bit o' bad timin’. Didn’t mean to frighten ye.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by his awkwardness. “I suppose it’s not every day a masked man bursts through my gates like a gust o’ wind. But ye’re here now. Perhaps it’s fate?”

He blinked at her, completely missing the implication. “Fate? Reckon it’s just a bit o' bad luck on my part, really. Guards, ye ken. Trouble follows me like a stray dog.”

Her eyes glinted as she leaned forward slightly, the candlelight catching the delicate shimmer of her robe. “Trouble follows ye, does it?” She smiled, the corner of her mouth curling in a way that made him shift in his chair.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trouble has a way of findin’ me, ye could say. Reckon I’ve got a knack for slippin’ out of it too.” He chuckled, trying to avoid her gaze by looking at his plate.

"Slippin’ out?" she repeated with a knowing smirk. "Ye slipped right intae ma garden, though, did ye not? And not by accident, I’m thinkin’.”

He shrugged sheepishly. "I was only tryin’ to avoid a situation."

The noblewoman took another sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving him. “Seems ye’ve found yerself in a new one, haven’t ye? Could it be that ye’ve come to sweep me off ma feet?” She winked, her gaze lingering on his lips.

Garias blinked rapidly, trying to process her words, still utterly oblivious to her intent. “Sweep ye off yer feet? I’m not much of a sweeper. More of a runner.”

She laughed, a musical sound that made the candles seem to flicker brighter. “Ye’re a charming fool, aren’t ye?”

He stared, the full weight of her words slowly dawning on him. His ears burned as her laughter danced through the air, and he suddenly became acutely aware of how close she was sitting.

“A fool, ye say?” he stammered, scratching the back of his neck again, feeling completely out of his depth. “Well, I’ve been called worse.”

She leaned in even closer, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Aye, but a charming one.”

He gulped, feeling his mouth go dry. Her hand, pale and slender, reached across the table, fingertips brushing his hand.

“Perhaps ye’re ma fortune,” she said softly, her voice laced with suggestion. “Seems to me ye’re exactly what I’ve been waitin’ for.”

His heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, unsure if it was from her words or the warmth of the room.

“M-maybe,” he stammered, trying to smile, though it came out more as a grimace. “But luck’s a funny thing. Comes and goes. Not sure I’m the stayin’ kind o’ fortune.”

The noblewoman chuckled, her gaze fixed on him in a way that made Garias feel as though he were under a spell. “Maybe not. But perhaps ye’ll stay long enough for me to find out.”

He tried to process her words, his mind yet catching up to the reality that she wasn’t just being polite—she was flirting with him. This stunning, poised woman was flirting with him. The realization hit him like a cart and made him sit up straighter.

He fumbled with his fork, dropping it onto his plate with a loud clatter. “I-, ye see, I’m not the kind to...” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if ye’re lookin’ for charm, I ain’t yer man.”

She tilted her head, her wide, dark red lips curling into a playful smile. “I think ye might be. Fate has brought ye to me, and now…” She stood, gracefully making her way around the table, her robes flowing behind her as she came to stand beside him. “I find it hard to let such a handsome bit o’ luck slip away.”

His heart jumped into his throat as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “Perhaps yer fortune’s not in slippin’ away this time,” she murmured, her voice sending a thrill down his spine. “Perhaps it’s stayin’.”

Garias’ eyes widened as she placed a hand on his shoulder, her fingers warm and soft through his tunic. “M’lady,” he breathed, feeling his heart race faster.

“Call me Moira,” she whispered into his ear. “Now, shall we let fate decide how lucky ye really are?”

Garias felt his breath catch, utterly flustered yet thrilled by her boldness. “Moira,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “Don’ know much about fate, but I think I’m the luckiest man in Neverwinter.”

She chuckled softly, her breath warm against his skin. “And ye said ye had no charm.”

Before he could think, her lips were on his, soft and inviting. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if she were testing the waters. But Garias, despite his flustered nerves, quickly found himself kissing her back. His hand moved to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in the soft tendrils of hair.

The world around him seemed to blur. The soft flicker of candles, the rich scent of wine, the warmth of her lips against his—everything else faded away. For a moment, Garias forgot about the guards, forgot about Brem, forgot about everything but the woman in front of him.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Moira's eyes sparkled with delight. She touched her lips gently with her fingertips, as if savoring the lingering sensation of their kiss.

The morning sun filtered through the misty streets of Neverwinter, the remnants of the Masquerade of Liars slowly being swept away. Stalls were being packed up and the faint smell of stale ale still clung to the air. Garias strolled through the quieter streets, whistling a cheerful tune to himself, his hands tucked into his pockets.

He’d spent the night in a soft bed—one far fancier than anything he’d ever imagined—and left Moira's estate just before dawn, slipping out with a satisfied grin and a spring in his step. Last night was something else. He couldn’t stop replaying it in his mind—the flirting, the kiss, the soft whispers in the candlelight.

Spotting Brem by their usual meeting spot near a crumbling statue of a dragon, Garias ambled over. His older brother was pacing, eyes narrowing as soon as he saw Garias approach.

“Where in the Hells have ye been?” Brem snapped, slipping into his natural accent. “Ah spent half the night dodgin’ guards, wonderin’ if ye got yerself caught!”

Garias gave him a lopsided grin, leaning casually against the statue. “Ye worry too much.”

Brem frowned, crossing his arms tighter. “Worry too much? We almost got nabbed last night! Ye vanished in the crowd, and Ah thought ye’d been hauled off tae the dungeons!”

Garias shrugged, a smug look on his face. “Ah was fine. Got a bit lucky.”

Brem’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion creeping into his features. “Lucky?” he repeated, his voice laced with doubt. “An’ what exactly does that mean?”

Garias just grinned wider, trying to look nonchalant, though he could feel his cheeks warming slightly as memories of Moira flooded back. “Just lucky,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual. “Got meself a nice spot for the night. Some good company, too.”

Brem stared at him, unblinking. Then he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Right,” he said, clearly unimpressed. “Good company. Sure, Garias. An’ was this ‘good company’ wearin’ armor an’ haulin’ ye in for questioning?”

Garias laughed, pushing himself off the statue. “I told ye, I’m fine.”

Brem raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced. “Ye mean to tell me ye slipped past the guards, had a grand ol’ time, an’ I’m just supposed to believe ye?”

Garias shrugged again, still grinning. “Believe what ye want.”

Brem rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “I swear, ye’ve got more gall than sense. Lucky, my arse. Probably spent the night hidin’ in a barrel somewhere.”

“Suit yerself,” Garias replied, as he stretched his arms overhead, feeling more relaxed than ever. “Maybe I’m the lucky one in the family.”

Brem shook his head, muttering under his breath as they began walking. “Lucky’s one word for it.”

As they made their way down the cobblestone streets, Garias shot a sidelong glance at Brem, who was still grumbling under his breath. A mischievous smile crept across his face as he suddenly piped up. "So, ye plannin' to pay a visit to Tavvy today?"

Brem nearly tripped over his own feet. “What?” he snapped, though Garias didn’t miss the hint of red creeping up the back of his neck.

Garias chuckled, raising his eyebrows in mock innocence. “The bonnie lass with the pretty blue eyes. Ye ain’t been talkin’ about anythin’ else since she showed up a few weeks back.”

Brem snorted, rolling his eyes as if the very idea was absurd. “Ain’t anythin’ lady-like about her,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were holding back a grin.

Garias smirked. “Bet ye’re thinkin’ about droppin’ by after we’re done here, eh?”

Brem shot his brother a look. “I’m thinkin’ about findin’ a better partner, one that doesn’t disappear in the middle of a job.”

Garias raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Thought ye two had a good wee thing back on. Ain’t that why ye always go visitin’ her?”

Brem shot him a side-eye.“Good thing? Ye havin’ a laugh? She’s more likely to deck me than give me a kiss.”

Garias chuckled. “Aye, but ye dinnae mind, do ye? Still get to see her all the same.”

Brem gave a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Shut it. Besides, you know her. More trouble than she’s worth.”

Despite the words, there was a glint in Brem’s eyes—a warmth that betrayed him.

“I think ye like a bit o’ trouble,” Garias teased, elbowing Brem lightly in the ribs.

Brem snorted, waving a dismissive hand. “Ye’ve got yer head in the clouds. Now quit yer yappin’ and let’s get movin’. We got better things to do.”

But as they walked on, Garias noticed a faint smile lingering on Brem’s face, and though he kept up the act, Garias knew—Brem wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself.

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