#astrallithid — 004

[viladlind]

in this plane that balduran creates with his mind, fiyero's eyes are open. watching from afar, like watching a play on a stage, the dialogue ringing clearly in her ears despite the distance between them. she can hear his words as he thinks them, directed at ansur. she feels the emotions he sends across the bond, trying to reach the dragonborn, loving and devoted. perhaps that's because of the tadpole, the connection between her and her guardian that is now so much stronger without the stars suppressing it.

   it's a strange sensation, to stand in a plane that isn't material, to feel emotions that aren't hers. she thinks she can even feel the edges of ansur's response. the dark mist that surrounded all of them has all but dissipated, leaving only the open sky. a promise of freedom.

   it gives her fleeting hope. so many things that balduran does give her fleeting hope. more than anything, she wants it to stick around.

   it feels inevitable, when he joins her side. he isn't there and then he is, and his hands are warmer when he picks up her own. fiyero stares down at where they're touching, remembers that very first time, when she accepted the hand that was offered to her. she's always been so terribly weak to a pretty face, even the one of corher. she's always been easy to persuade with a gentle touch.

   his voice rings in her mind and she tilts forward, tucks her face against his shoulder, into the crook of his neck. stays there, looking down at their hands, in silence as he speaks.

   and how he speaks.

   personhood, to her, is perhaps the most important thing in all the realms. fiyero believes that people are people, and that whether they do good or bad, they remain just that at their core— a person. a mortal. she was never terribly interested in the affairs of gods, threw aside the faith she was taught, worshipping the seldarine, as soon as she left dovesong. she turned to lathander instead, god of dawn, god of hope, god of new beginnings.

   that's why, at the end of it all, balduran scares her. because he is not mortal, not anymore. he was changed. he represents something entirely out of her reach, something she was told is dangerous and not trustworthy. and yet he's still a person, somebody that touches her gently, somebody that says she reminded him of the new beginning he could have, even in this form.

   who is she to say he won't live up to it? who is she to reject him before he's had the chance to prove it to her? there will always be a line, but he hasn't reached it yet. instead, he reassures her where it's needed, promises her worlds beyond her comprehension.

   she shakes her head softly, though she doesn't lift it from where it's resting against balduran. replies through their connected minds, careful, like a newborn fowl. i don't need the worlds beyond. they sound nice, certainly, they sound stunningly beautiful. to think that balduran would want to use his powers to give fiyero something she could otherwise never achieve? it startles her, the huge amount of trust that waves over their bond. for him to reveal himself like this, to talk of his ceremorphosis so openly. she knows it scared him before, terribly so. she knows she gave him no reason to be open about it.

   it underlines the confession, the warmth rushing through her, such a stark contrast to the cold mist. her tears drying on her face, she nuzzles into his shoulder. i only need you to be yourself.

   loves comes to her so easily. she thought she'd know its shape, whatever form it takes. whatever balduran gives her, it's different. it's new. she wonders, a question that can't be hidden between them now, if it's even possible for her own love to be enough for him. if she ever fully gives herself to him, will he be sated?

   she likes to think the answer is yes, listening to him now.

   ' show yourself to me, ' comes muttered, solemn. ' as i've shown myself to you. your ansur, your belynne. who you've loved, who you are. what you've done. if you're to love me, ' with her head finally raising so she can bump her horns into his cheek, ' you must do it as yourself. do not hide away from me anymore. i want to see you. '

Ever since his ceremorphosis, Balduran had moments where he struggled to really find the right words. The genuine ones- not the sweet talk he used to get where he wanted and what he wanted. There were no words he could say out loud that would be sufficient for this- to explain a love that was so much more than love. He's relieved when Ansur an Fiyero let him in. It will be easier this way- won't it?

He's practiced when it comes to this- to creating the world in his mind- the world he can show to others. Illithids had an interesting way of seeing the world, because they saw infinity. That had not changed when he woke in Spirale. He saw the potential of what things could be. Where others would see the red of a rose, he saw the story that it had to tell- the very core of the concept. Without the Stars to hold him back, Balduran could extend that ability to others-

In his mindspace, Balduran looks healthier, sun kissed, somewhat ruffled as if he'd just come back from one of his many adventures at sea- there's starlight in his hair. It's the echo of his soul- voyager of the astral sea. He looks at Ansur and sees the wind and the waves. It's a feeling of freedom. Looking at Ansur feels like a weightlessness, as if all of the worries of the world had faded away. You are the wind in the sails, the stars above- my heart, my soul, my legacy. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, my dear Ansur-

Ansur lets out a soft gasp when Balduran allows him to see infinity. It makes him wonder why he thought Balduran had lost his soul in the first place. When he took Balduran from the colony, he'd looked at Ansur with such love, even when he couldn't quite remember what had happened- "Is this what you saw all along?" Yes. I had always wondered what it would feel like to fly. I asked you to fly free because I ... I didn't want you to have to settle for what I am. "It isn't settling if it's love, my Balduran- and you will always be that, won't you? No matter where the winds take you-" Balduran holds onto Ansur, as if it would be the last time that they'd ever be able to hold each other. Perhaps it would be.

Know that even if I am not by your side, I will always have been your Balduran. The words he'd written, now spoken into Ansur's mind. Spoken with love and devotion and a promise of some form of eternity. Balduran's soul was not so ruined as he thought. He would always be able to carry the love of his soulmate with him.

The dragonborn nuzzled against Balduran before the adventurer pulls away ⎛ and would it really be the last time? Maybe a miracle would change that ⎠ - after all, this wasn't only about him. There was the tiefling who Balduran had also brought to this world that he had built in his mind-

Fiyero, my freedom, my savior, when he looks at her, he sees pathways to many worlds- He'd once told her that it was because of her that he was able to have a second chance. He moves to sit by her side, to take her hands in his ⎛ warm now, human- because wasn't that who he was? Under all the things that had been done to him, after all the changes, he was still Balduran- ⎠ I would love to travel the world with you, he says in her mind, I would take you to worlds beyond- I want you to be able to experience infinity, and I want you to be you. He knows she's so worried about the tadpole- about maintaining her own personhood- One day, if you'll allow it, I can show you all that I see- and you won't have to face any ceremorphosis. You showed me that there is still more for me to explore in the world. I had been close to giving up-

When he'd first met Fiyero, he wore the face of her former fiancee. He was a reminder of her time in Dovesong- of a life that wasn't really hers. A life where she had to pretend to be someone she wasn't. Looking back, he should've come to her like this. She spent a fair amount of time in Waterdeep, so it wouldn't have been such a risk. He'd lived so long ago that the only likenesses remaining were weather-worn statues and various sketches- none of which were consistent. He should've come to her as he was, because he had no right to tie her back to a person that was not her. Mallenor was a product of True Polymorph. Even that could never change who a person was at their core.

Through traveling with you, I've had the chance to feel free. You've given me more time to feel human again. I didn't realize how much I missed it until we met. She's infinite possibilities, she's the laughter of friends sitting around a campfire. She's the curiosity that drove him to see more and more- in a way, she's the treasure he was searching for in Moonrise. Yes, she was well worth the wait. ❝ Awful as it was, if it took ceremorphosis for me to meet you, to be at your side, I would suffer it infinitely, ❞ This, he speaks out loud- speaks with a love that was so much more than love- ❝ I will not blame you if you don't believe me, if you can't trust me. All I can do is work hard to be better, to be someone even half worthy of that trust- ❞ What he means is 'I would never ask you to settle for an illithid as a partner, as any sort of precious thing in your life, but no matter your views of me, I will always love you, and more.'

[viladlind]

it's still unbearable to grapple with this feeling of uselessness, as long as she's been on this island. at one point or another throughout her travels back home, fiyero had grown accustomed to leadership. it wasn't something she would have chosen for herself, but once the mantle was on her shoulders, there was no real way for her to deny it. because balduran had told her the fate of faerûn rested in her hands, but perhaps even moreso because her friends were relying on her. being trusted so, what else was she going to do?

   it took time, to grow into the role. and she had not succeeded yet, was torn from her world before she could get close to removing those tadpoles. in truth, she isn't even sure if everything else on their path was terribly important to her. it felt good, to help people. it felt right.

   but didn't she always have the convenient excuse of we're already here? we might as well?

   is that still good?

   she cured the shadow-cursed lands because she needed to. it was a step towards reaching that final goal, freeing her party of the tadpoles. would she still have done it, if she didn't need to?

   all of her dedication, and it leaves her here. without her friends, without her allies, sitting on the floor of a forest surrounded by mist. all of her abilities at her disposal, and they weren't good enough. back home, fiyero has not won. and this does not feel like a victory either, just another thing out of her hands, spiralling from her grasp.

   she sits and she cries, leaves her gaze somewhere it isn't looking at balduran and ansur. their conversation drifts past her. it's not hers to have, a part of balduran that was revealed by the stars forcing his hand. he had called for her, but she's not sure he would have told her if he had a choice. some part of her feels petulant about it. isn't he powerful? aren't his abilities returned, as well? if words get twisted instead, if ansur doesn't see reason ...

   all this talk of protecting her. he should prove it.

   wiping her palm across one cheek, fiyero thinks balduran nudging at her mind should startle her. it doesn't. it feels blessfully familiar, like returning to a place she knows intimately. she had told him that she missed it, sharing like this with him, and that was nothing but honesty. as complicated as her feelings are, it no longer feels as intrusive as it first did. balduran asks. balduran pleads.

   she finally blinks and looks up, though she doesn't need him to return the gaze to realize his intentions. she feels them, as she feels her own feelings, and that's so much warmer than his grey skin underneath her touch. it softens her, all the cold stubbornness clinging to her. taking a deep breath in, she drags both hands across her face and sits up straight, closes her eyes.

   she lets him in.

go on, then. prove it.

Oh, the way Fiyero looked at him made Balduran's heart do ... something, a flutter, an ache- he loves her so, so much. He can't leave her alone for long, but he also can't stay away from Ansur. Ansur, his heart, his legacy- Don't do anything foolish, guardian, Fiyero says, and Balduran wishes he could kiss her. Maybe later ⎛ maybe in her dreams, because what if his symptoms just got worse? ⎠ - ❝ I promise, ❞ he says, and what he means is 'I love you.' He means 'I will always come back to you.'

When he tries to go to Ansur, he stumbles- he'd taken quite a bit of damage from the lightning, although thanks to Fiyero, the pain was less. If not for the dragonborn rushing forward to catch him, Balduran would've had a messy encounter with the dirt. Instead, he found himself supported by a sturdy embrace. "You're ..." Ansur looks at Balduran like he's the most precious thing in the world- and wasn't that how they used to be? Long ago in lives they both mourned-

❝ Still here, still me- I guess ... or, as close as I can be- ❞ He's so tired, tired of the sorrow, tired from the battle- tired of running from the past. This is the only closure he'll ever get, isn't it? But hells, he needs it. ❝ I know you wanted me to be the same person I was before I left, ❞ That was the issue, wasn't it? Ansur was so very stubborn- "You grew more distant by the day, you were frightened- I thought that was what you wanted, to go back-"

Balduran had wished, for a time, to turn back time, to prevent himself from running off to Moonrise Towers, but as time passed, he realized that this was his new reality. As awful and hellish as it was, there was no going back. ❝ No one ever really goes back ... to the way they once were. Not after something like that ... ❞ He looks over then to Fiyero, wonderful Fiyero who he would never have met if Ansur had found some miracle cure- beautiful Fiyero who sat and wept ⎛ and how his heart ached- ⎠

"You love her," Ansur says, and it isn't a question, it isn't an accusation. It's simply an observation. ❝ Yes, more than I could ever hope to describe in words- but it does not mean that I love you any less. Will you let me show you? ❞

There's a soft glow in his eyes, a surge of illithid power. It gently brushes against Ansur's psyche, asking for entry. He also reaches out to Fiyero's mind- he wants to show her, too. Please, please let me show you. I love you.

Ansur breathes, tenses- Balduran or not, this was still illithid power- but when he saw that look of adoration on his beloved adventurer's face, he knew that there was nothing to fear. With a soft smile of his own, he lets Balduran in.

[viladlind]

there are things at play here that are larger than fiyero. there are hints and clues that she could start putting together. certainly, she's listening, and whatever information comes of it will be tucked away to eventually share with her friends. the mind of a leader does not rest, only that it does, because there are things at play here that make fiyero feel small, and alone, and weak.

   traits of a mortal walking amongst higher beings. is that what balduran is? other mindflayers would certainly describe themselves as such, obsessed with the furthering of their own kind. but time and time again, balduran had done the opposite. she was never truly certain for whose sake, never sure of his intentions. perhaps she never will be, perhaps she doesn't need to be.

   perhaps this is enough: balduran reaches out and gives her a piece of himself. what fiyero has done so many times, often unwillingly so, he surrenders in turn. his breath, his heartbeat, his life flows into the tiefling to keep her upright. it doesn't feel good, not the way her own magic does. it's not the rays of the sun peeking above the horizon. it is heavy, and it tastes like something fiyero has never tasted. she feels dizzy with the weight of it, holds onto balduran a little tighter as her body adjusts. it's not healing so much as it is replacing what was wrong with her, taking a puzzle piece and finding a different one that fits just as well. her tense muscles relax a bit, her mantle of majesty finally fizzles away unknowingly.

   it's a moment of recovery that the dragonborn could have taken to finish them off, both of them sharing in a hurt to try and stay conscious. he doesn't. the man that balduran calls ansur talks with much less anger in his voice, and fiyero's gaze drifts to the ground underneath them, trying to find her rapier. she'd dropped it at some point, hadn't she? perhaps with that last attack, her fingers no longer listening to her. she needs to pick it up. she needs to pull herself together. she needs to—

   the storm subsides. she blinks up at the sky, tries to see through the layers of mist. balduran takes her hand in his own and fiyero startles, had forgotten her own touch because he's so frigidly cold underneath her. i wish i could do more for you.

   a tadpole in her brain. her hands, still trembling from the aftershocks of so much lightning driving through her system. her vision blurring every now and then, her heart beating so loudly that it's harder to hear him over the pulse of it. doesn't he always wish he could do more for her?

   ' i can't deny you. ' it's rasped, vulnerable, a wound opened. he says he needs to talk, and fiyero thinks that an incredibly stupid idea. but they're not dead. and perhaps they can remain that way, if they don't mess it up in one way or another that fiyero has certainly done before. a leader, and still so terribly inexperienced. a lover, and still so afraid to close the distance between them entirely. she does it anyways, her other hand driving over his armour that still stings from leftover electricity. she leans up and bumps her forehead against his.

   ' don't do anything foolish, guardian. ' a warning as much as it is a plea. fiyero untangles herself from balduran, tries to sit more upright on her own. ' go on. ' her hand drifts across the grass underneath until it bumps against the gold of her rapier, and the firm hold she has around it makes her feel better. she watches as balduran parts, gets up and turns to do what he'd told her. to talk.

   she sits, knowing that she should get up. that she should heal herself further, still feeling like her bones were hollowed out. that she should be ready to cast, or to draw her bow and arrow.

   fiyero sits, staring at her lap, and cries silently.

Balduran's certain that if Fiyero hadn't healed him earlier, he'd be dead. They'd both be. He'd almost forgotten Ansur's devastating power, and this was the awful reminder. Fiyero's bane was a saving grace, but it didn't fully stop Ansur. It's when Fiyero pulls away for a moment, rests her hand upon his cheek- when she asks for his help, that he notices that something else in the air has changed.

Even battle-weary, Fiyero is beautiful, rosy- like springtime, like young love. He can't really say the same for himself. Balduran has watched ceremorphosis before- not his own, but that of thralls in the colony, before he was taken away- and then when he was brought back. It was a horribly ugly thing, and a part of him wanted to allow her to make it dark not to escape, but just to spare her from seeing the rest of it- should the rest of it happen. For now, he knew he must've just looked a mess ⎛ at least he was still recognizably himself- pale green eyes and brown hair ⎠ ❝ Before we go anywhere, you'll need some healing- ❞ but, Balduran isn't a healer, not in any traditional manner. When he'd first undergone ceremorphosis, he'd lost the divine blessings that he'd earned from his time as a paladin ⎛ and hells, what he'd give to be able to just heal her up with a soothing lay on hands- ⎠❝ Here, you'll feel better after this, ❞

Transfuse health was always a little risky- a power possessed by illithids, but one Balduran hadn't used often- if at all- since he was taught it in the colony. It was meant to give life to another creature by sacrificing a part of his own- and certainly he felt it. Not that he minded, of course, because Fiyero was precious to him, and not in the way any illithid cared about a thrall. This was different. Balduran had never tried to share part of his life with Belynne, at least. The last person he'd wanted to share his life with was Ansur-

Ansur, who had simply stopped calling upon the lightning, because he had realized that maybe, just maybe- no, certainly- his soulmate existed still. His soulmate, who he had tried to put to death twice now. His soulmate who shared a piece of his life with the tiefling. His soulmate who then looked up at him with familiar green eyes and a small, sad smile-

"... Balduran," the dragonborn whispers, and it feels like the sun breaking through dark clouds when his lover lights up-

❝ Dear Ansur, ❞ comes Balduran's reply, and his heart feels lighter- there's an old familiar warmth. One that he held onto in his memories when he feared memories were all he had left-

"My Balduran-" Still, Ansur doesn't move toward Balduran, because Balduran has the tiefling cradled in his arms. It seems that the adventurer has a new lover. Not that Balduran hadn't taken lovers in the past- hadn't he been so very fond of that elven wizard? Dradeel had shared Balduran's bed almost as much as Ansur had, and while the dragon certainly coveted Balduran's love, he knew better than to try to hoard it.

With the storm subsiding, Balduran allowed himself to relax, just a little. He knows that Ansur is still nervous, and certainly Fiyero must be- this wasn't how he wanted her to find out, after all ⎛ even though he had hoped it would never come to light, it was impossible for that to really happen. He hadn't been able to hold Orpheus back, he hadn't been able to maintain the illusion and battle at the same time. He'd been on edge since- ⎠ But, her touch was warm and loving, and something about it made him feel human again. It was such a human thing to cradle a lover in his arms-

It made Ansur see a human instead of an illithid. It bought them all a little more time. Of course Balduran was glad to see that warmth in Ansur's eyes once more, but he still had to make sure Fiyero was alright before he could really think about any sort of closure. Ansur knew that, too. ❝ I wish I could do more for you, ❞ he says, taking Fiyero's hand in his own ⎛ and what he means is 'I wish I could be better, be human- let go of all of the lies I told myself. I wish I had been honest from the start, no matter the outcome.' ⎠ - it's such a contrast, isn't it? Her lively pinks against his dreary grey. ❝ I think ... we don't have to vanish in the darkness. Rest- let me talk to him- and then... ❞ then, he really had a lot of things to tell her, didn't he?

[viladlind]

to trust balduran had been the first task he had given her, and the most difficult one. learning to fight was one thing, using her music to weave it into spells more suitable to a battlefield. figuring out how to position herself, learning the advantages and disadvantages of each of her companions. fiyero had no place or people to call her own for the better part of a decade and she turned into a formidable leader, capable of taking on the absolute and all its followers.

   and yet, however helpful he tried to be, there was always distance between them. secrets untold, history brushed aside. balduran had not even told her his name until their last conversation, revealing himself to be ilithid in almost the same breath. it had taken their unwilling journey to this island for him to start revealing more of himself. the powerful adventurer with her fiancé's face turned into somebody else. and still, she didn't know if she could trust him.

   to look past the tales even she was told from a very young age, of the doom that a mindflayer's presence spells out, is perhaps the second most difficult task balduran has ever given her.

   it's hard not to think about it, even in the midst of battle. balduran speaks to the dragonborn with lightning on his fingertips and there's a familiarity between them that is undeniable. this is not a stranger wanting to strike down a random mindflayer. there is affection here, there is love here. there is pain here, from losing all that love.

   (she thinks about asking lae'zel to kill her, should she ever fully turn into a mindflayer, and how her friend accepting that task filled her with more fondness than it perhaps should have.

   so is this not love, too? offering balduran a merciful death? not when he's still here, somebody says. not when he's still him.)

   she casts bane the second before another attack hits. this time, she can feel her magic sticking, can see the hint of pink dragging his hands down as the dragonborn tries to raise them. there's not much more time to look, not when balduran has an arm around her waist and tugs her close. as lightning descends upon them, he turns his back to the dragonborn and pulls fiyero to his chest.

i will be your shield.

   she still feels it. of course she does, it's lightning, and fiyero is wearing armour lined with metal. but balduran takes the brunt of the damage, blessedly less than it could have been, the effect of bane leaving them both better off. she's wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, head tucked against his collarbone, as if trying to push past a horrible storm. her illusionary wings, incorporeal, wrap around the both of them protectively.

   perhaps it really is a storm, rain starting to platter down on them. this is the first time she's held onto him as desperately as this. it feels like it was bound to happen eventually— now that she's here, she doesn't want to let go.

   but she has to. they're still in danger. and it hurts, everything hurts, lightning stuttering through her veins painfully. fiyero whimpers against balduran, pushes off. her hand finds his cheek by instinct alone, gaze still too blurry to really see. her control over bane fades entirely when another belated jolt goes through the tiefling.

   ' i n-need your help. ' blatantly so, something fiyero would usually not be ashamed of. if it wasn't balduran. if he hadn't asked for her help. ' anything to— we can get away. ' her gaze finally sharpening, fiyero gets her first proper look at the veins spreading across his sickly skin, breath caught in her throat. the song she hums is slower, gentler, as though time had stopped between the two of them for the moment. she heals balduran again, strokes a thumb over his cheek.

   ' i can make it dark. please. '

Somehow, Fiyero has come to his side- although he should've expected that. She was going to follow the path she believed was right, and evidently that path was healing him. Her touch is warm- like the first time she held him. If only they could go back to easier times ⎛ and to think he saw that as easier- but compared to this, anything would be! ⎠ , or if only she'd held him a little longer. Maybe he would've told her, even though he had been so very afraid.

He'd watched her put her boot through the skull of a dying illithid soon after the nautiloid had crashed. He'd decided to keep that part of himself locked away, because how could he tell her? But as they journeyed together, he found himself bending to her will again and again- when he asked her to use the tadpole's power, she said no. He'd grown to see his ceremorphosis as some sort of evolution- something that had bettered him- but when he looked at her, he could imagine her as nothing other than Fiyero. So he turned to other subjects.

She sought out the druid Halsin, and when the Archdruid's power was unable to do anything for her, he gently tried again, and again she refused. ⎛ He'd try one last time, he remembers standing before her with no defenses, as an illithid. He offered her the astral tadpole, and once again she said no. He'd say nothing more on the matter, then. ⎠

Love, she calls him, and he knows it's more than that. Love through devotion- he's learned infernal by heart from wandering in her memories. And he loves her too- so much that it oftern overwhelmed him. So much so that he would lay down his life for her. ⎛ He did, in a time she doesn't know of. He can't tell her what it felt like to hold the triune Netherstone. He can't tell her that he loved her so much that he cast aside the Grand Design- he could've continued it, because it was in an illithid's nature to do so. But it was in Balduran's nature to pick freedom. So he picked freedom for her and for her friends. He chose his own destruction, although he didn't say that. He simply said he would miss her. That he wouldn't come to the party that Gale proposed ... because he would be rather busy with something else. ⎠Love; he felt love deeply, just as he felt pain deeply. His own and others-

She loves him. She will not leave him.

Ansur loved him, too. Balduran could see the conflict in the dragon's eyes- still glowing, because Ansur was so very stubborn. Ansur didn't fly away when Balduran had begged him to- Ansur succumbed to sorrow and madness and ... maybe this time it would be different.

Don't you love him?

Ansur was still on guard- of course, because who could let their guard down around an illithid? But ... the illithid with the tiefling still wore Balduran's face, it spoke with Balduran's voice, and Ansur remembered flying to Moonrise Towers, diving down into the depths, finding the illithids and knowing ... knowing immediately which one had been Balduran. "Of course I love him! But, illithids don't-" He stopped me from turning, says the tiefling, he stops me, still-

❝ Ansur, I ... I have never stopped loving you- how could I? ❞ Balduran had always dreamed of flying free- for a time he had, with Ansur at his side. Even when he was far from home, he had never forgotten that feeling. Ansur was freedom, the freedom before Fiyero.

"Don't-" There's something about how the dragon's voice cracks, and deep down, Balduran knows that this isn't really Ansur. How could it be? His Ansur was so stubborn, so desperate to do the impossible. His Ansur would never ... but how he'd dreamed of it. ⎛ How he'd wished that Ansur would simply stay with him- even if the dragon had to settle for an illithid as a partner- he would've given everything to have that. Ansur's love for the rest of his days. ⎠ ❝ I'm still me- I never stopped loving you, I will love you until the day I die, and even beyond- ❞

"ENOUGH!" Ansur cries, and it sounds like thunder- Balduran thinks that it might rain. Maybe the lightning will strike again, but if it does ... will he survive? Will Fiyero survive? Oh, he'll certainly have explaining to do if they make it through- about the truth of his past. About what really happened between him and Ansur. About his illithid nature ... But first ...

Balduran knows Fiyero isn't suited for this sort of combat. He knows no person who could really fight a dragon- when he'd fought Ansur, it had been late at night- and they were both weakened by broken hearts. Now, things were different. He thinks that maybe he'll be able to hold Ansur off a little longer- but he lacks the desire to land a killing blow. He's left with few options. Still, he pulls Fiyero close ⎛ she's still so warm, and he imagines the Astral Plane ⎠ and hopes that maybe this would be a human-enough display for Ansur, and if not- he could still use his body to shield Fiyero. He will not leave her, but he can't run from his past forever.

[viladlind]

her spell doesn't even touch him. it washes over the dragonborn like a gust of air, the pink glow fizzling out before it could ever reach him. one of her most powerful abilities, lending her magic of the fey to control others, to lead them away from where they could harm her or her loved ones, and it's entirely useless.

   suddenly, fiyero is scared.

   the small laugh that bubbles out of her is hysterical. she can only watch the split of a second where the dragonborn raises a hand to rain down lightning once more, unable to turn and run even when every part of her body is screaming for her to do just that. you are without power, here. you have no use, here.

   what use is she if she can't protect—

   she braces for that same shock that doesn't reach her, but the impact of lightning against protective magic still sends her skidding backwards. somehow, fiyero manages to remain standing, two arms raised to shield her own face. the grip on her rapier briefly falters, tightens again out of sheer instinct. it's loud— a booming noise that disorients her long enough, overpowering everything else. fiyero sways, gasps, then grinds her heels into the dirt and blinks against the buzzing in her head.

balduran.

   she's running. doesn't need to be told twice, though instead of getting anywhere remotely safe, she reaches balduran and heaves him to his feet from where he collided with the tree, possessing a strength that can only be attributed to adrenaline.

   ' cinpa'i— ' love— infernal sounds so soft, so small. with her arms wrapped around his, securing him, she tries to somehow look hard enough to discern if he can walk, if he can run. she must be a liability here. balduran can't fight this man, he asked for her help, and she can't do anything. she's just another thing to kill. she knows this feeling all too well. ' not without you. we go together. '

   haven't they done so many things together?

   the song that spills from her lips is hurried, accompanied by the strings of her harp, and cure wounds washes over balduran so quickly that the comfort of it can barely be noticeable. her fingers dance across the instrument, turn into something firmer. looking at the dragonborn, she prepares to cast bane.

   calls out to him, still, stubborn as she is. if her magic won't do it, perhaps words will. ' he is balduran, you fool! you really wish to kill him if there is a single doubt that parts of him still linger? don't you love him? ' she doesn't know enough. she never knows enough. there's no space to be angry about it, only a guess made from reading into it all. ' he stopped me from turning. he stops me, still. if he wanted to— if i was his thrall— '

With every passing moment, the situation becomes infinitely worse. Balduran feels numb and at the same time, he feels everything. His own feelings, Ansur's, and Fiyero's, and good Gods he's overwhelmed! Ansur is furious and so is Fiyero, but for different reasons. He's ... scared, but there's more, and he doesn't know how to process it. Not yet, at least ⎛ and maybe never, if he doesn't get his act together and do something! ⎠

I will be your shield, but you must be the sword, he once said. He didn't mean this. Fiyero was Balduran's hope for the future of his city, of the Sword Coast. He had learned of the tiefling's views on his city, not by asking but simply by wandering through the other's memories and thoughts. And even though Fiyero wasn't terribly partial to Baldur's Gate, he followed the path to Moonrise Towers- the path that would take him to the City of Blood. Balduran knew what the future held, but Fiyero did not- and all of this ... what if it changed the outcome?

I will be your shield.

He had to get up.

Ansur hadn't anticipated this. While he was aware of how thralldom worked in theory, but in practice? Not so much. Whatever the illithid ⎛ it wasn't Balduran anymore- it couldn't be ⎠ had said or done to the tiefling had unfortunately worked. The poor thing- Ansur would put the both of them out of their misery. He couldn't tell whether or not the tiefling was brave or foolish- perhaps both.

The psionic energy rushes over the dragon and he blinks. The tiefling wants him to leave, that much is clear, but he won't. Not until this is done. The air feels heavy. Ansur's eyes glow. "I knew Balduran. He was not this." ⎛ It's spoken with the ache of an old love, of a broken bond- of quiet regrets, because Ansur knows that he tried and tried and tried. He read the letter as he lay there dying. The illithid claiming to be Balduran had left him there with the Giantslayer shoved in his chest. Ansur bled and wept ⎠ "When I offered him merciful death, he repaid me with slaughter!"

Yes, wasn't that the sad truth of it? The end of their love story. Love didn't save either of them. Would love save them now?

Balduran knows what's coming next, and he knows that if he doesn't get up, Fiyero could die. After all, Ansur was a dragon and as talented as Fiyero was, a dragon's power was far beyond most mortals'.

I will be your shield.

Everything hurts, and time seems to slow- Balduran's powers had kicked in before he could really think about them. He manages to stand ⎛ on unsteady legs- like some newborn fawn ⎠ and moves as best he can to shove Fiyero out of the way.

Ansur's lightning strikes, but not before Balduran casts a volatile shield around himself and Fiyero. He's out of practice, but he knows that when it breaks, Ansur could be stunned. And that could buy him time to help Fiyero get to safety. Of course, it's never that easy. The lightning sends him flying ⎛ something cracks when he collides with a tree that he couldn't make out in the mist ⎠ and leaves him reeling- He can see Ansur's glowing eyes. It won't be long until the lightning strikes again.

❝ Fiyero, get out of there! ❞

[viladlind]

fiyero only has to throw a single hurried glance over his shoulder for cold dread to grasp him tightly. balduran is changing. something about this mist, or something about this person in front of them. always the healer, he's torn between turning his attention towards the guardian and keeping it on the dragonborn. it's so much easier to heal when you have other people to do the fighting for you.

   there are a million thoughts he has about balduran and him being an illithid. he hasn't known for terribly long— barely any time at all. and it stung, because in parts, it felt like losing him. the hope he had, however small it was, that whatever balduran was hiding wasn't so terrible, that it wouldn't sever something in their connection.

   and it stung because he only told him now. but doesn't it make sense? hours after his rescue, fiyero killed the first mindflayer he came across with a boot to his skull.

   and still, it stings again.

   ' i'm not his thrall. ' it's spat out like an insult, like something that doesn't even deserve to be on fiyero's tongue. the anger is so overwhelming that his hand trembles with it. it'd be so easy, to let it wash over him, attack the dragonborn with abandon. but balduran is hurt. he calls for fiyero pitifully from where he's stuck. ' he doesn't control me. i defend him of my own volition. '

   fiyero takes a step back. a hand hovers close to balduran's shoulder, his eyes always on the dragonborn. his rapier still held high in the air between the two of them, trying to keep him at bay. in truth, fiyero can't do an awful lot here. he's not equipped for fights this close, none of his spells suited to this. but he can heal. and if they're lucky, he can get them out of here.

   ' i— ' the word gets stuck in his throat. what lies? so many of them. omission is still lying, fiyero knows that, he's been angry about it plenty. but none of them, not a single one, is enough to leave balduran here. he almost shakes his head, grits his teeth. that question may have hit him more than any attack could, but that doesn't mean he has to relent underneath it.

   ' keep your mouth shut, lest i cut off your tongue. you speak falsities you don't know anything about. you don't, if you think this is all there is. he's— yes, he's illithid. i know that. i know. but he's not gone. '

   his free hand starts stringing a song on his harp that sounds much more defined, his fingers quick and efficient. the tiefling keeps talking as the melody grows louder, faster, stronger.

   ' he's still here. and you will not kill him. ' mantle of majesty drapes itself over fiyero's shoulders. he grows taller, his hair a soft blanket around him, longer, longer, longer. even in the dim light, his eyes glow. and behind him, a pair of illusory wings sprout from his back, covering balduran from view. fiyero casts command. ' flee. '

Ansur's wrath is great and terrible and horribly misplaced- because none of this is Fiyero's fault. Fiyero shouldn't have to fight Balduran's battles, and when the tiefling comes running, Balduran realizes that once again, he's made some horrible mistake. ❝ Ansur, don't- ❞ he begins, before he finds Fiyero intercepting the lightning. Gods, what was he thinking?

In truth, the answer was not much, because most of his thoughts were muddled with panic and pain and that oh so foolish hope that maybe, just maybe this could all be resolved. He knows that logically something like that is impossible. He's already faced his fate; this is just some sick joke, isn't it? Or maybe this is how it ends. Balduran finds himself doubled over with a sudden, but sickeningly familiar pain. Like he's been kicked in the gut, like his body wants to turn itself inside-out. He feels disoriented and overwhelmed and he's starving-

Ansur, of course, watches with some sad, distant, knowing look. The dragon is aware of what comes next- or what should come next. It's all the proof he needs, isn't it, that this thing is not Balduran. It hasn't been in a long, long time.

Not very honorable to fight a man unwilling, says the tiefling, and Ansur lets out a sigh. Somewhere between frustrated and disappointed, his eyes flick to the blade at his throat before he grants the tiefling his full attention- "I am putting that thing out of its misery," comes the reply, a low rumble like thunder. "It is a mind flayer, and you would do well to let me finish this." Behind Fiyero, Balduran looks back up, paler than he should be, black veins spreading across his skin. He remembers the first time ...

⎛ You will be beautiful, says the nursemaid. Balduran feels like he's stuck somewhere between life and death- his body is no longer his own, and there's so much he tries to hold onto. You will be perfect. In his thoughts, the nursemaid smiles- a false sweetness. It is a cruel thing, but he's desperate and lonely and- all of those feelings will go away soon. You will be free. Soon.

Soon. ⎠

❝ Fiyero ... ❞ It's such a sad, pitiful sound, like he's choking- but once again by some cruel trick of the gods, something's different. He's found himself stuck, truly, halfway between human and illithid- as if his form was trying to reflect the truth. He belonged with neither. Too aberrant for humans, too human for illithids; it's his own personal curse- the very thing that has denied him so much. ❝ I have only tried to protect you ... keep you safe from ... ❞

"From what? From things like you?" Ansur's rage is suffocating, and Balduran can't seem to figure out how to get his body to move again. If he doesn't get up, he'll die. Fiyero will die- He doesn't want to die, he certainly can't let Fiyero die ⎛ and deep down he knows that if he has to pick one or the other ... he would have to place his faith in the Gith prince, wouldn't he? He knows whose life matters more. He just doesn't know how to say it. Not yet- maybe one day. Maybe sooner than he'd like- ⎠ "You claim to be Balduran and then bring your thrall to serve as your shield? How far have you fallen, then? And you," he nods at Fiyero, "did you know? What lies did it tell you?"

[viladlind]

the fog that bears down on fiyero feels suffocating. for a terrifying moment he's robbed of a sense, only dreadful grey surrounding him. wherever he was before is gone. the only thing that stays is the feeling of ground underneath his boots, stopping him from falling prey to the pure panic that draws shivers up his back.

   there's a bow on his back, alongside a quiver of arrows. his old harp and violin strapped to his armour. he's wearing his armour— fiyero unsheathes the rapier at his side and holds it up defensively. the instincts feel age-old, when he'd only started battling properly a year ago. does it count, when half of that year was spent here?

   perhaps he would have had more time to get his bearings if the tadpole didn't stir.

   balduran's voice rings through his head the same way it always has, only it's been months since fiyero last heard it like this. he recoils, a hand to the side of his head, and a lot of thoughts slot into place at the same time. if his possessions and powers had been returned to him, balduran must have his, too. the connection between the two of them brimming with life once more. something that should be reassuring, but he's never heard him speak with such fear.

   instructions or advice, always, even when fiyero didn't want them. never shaking with uncertainty, with horror.

   the landscape in front of him remains entirely grey, but it doesn't matter much when fiyero can just follow the pull of his tadpole.

   he should be holding his violin for this, instead of the rapier. it's not a lot of use at a longer range. but fiyero is practiced at this, too, draws a hand over the harp at his side to aid himself with music. the dragonborn almost towering over balduran is not the clearest target, but he's the only one here, and balduran had asked for help.

   a clawed finger plucks at the wrong string and the harp lets out a painful note as fiyero casts dissonant whispers with a short yell. crossing the distance between, he has the time to feel somewhat satisfied when the spell seems to take effect in some way, the dragonborn's expression distorting with psychic damage.

   then he's hit with lightning.

   it hits his rapier just as fiyero places himself a step in front of balduran and pushes him back with a hand on his chest. it draws a line up his hand, his arm, his shoulder, freezes his heart for a brief moment. the hiss he lets out in response stutters much like his body does. he thinks he might see some satisfaction in the dragonborn, as well, but it's quickly overshadowed by confused anger.

   to his credit, fiyero doesn't drop the rapier. he bares his fangs instead, holds it up to the dragonborn's throat.

   ' not very honourable to fight a man unwilling. ' hypocrisy, entirely— fiyero has never known an ounce of honour in his entire life. still, he demands. ' who are you to strike him down? '

@viladlind

Running into the mists without any regard for consequences was, of course, a terrible idea. A great deal of Balduran's ideas were rather impulsive and poorly thought through, but of the recent impulsive decisions, this one was the worst. Where first there was joy, it had quickly faded into sorrow and fear- a sense of betrayal, just like before.

Ansur was as beautiful as Balduran remembered. Ansur who once loved him so dearly. Ansur who came to him in the night and had tried to kill him- because he no longer saw Balduran. A certain mix of madness and crushing understanding of the reality had ... had what? Made Ansur give up? Made him think that this was the only solution? Even now ... ❝ This is what you wanted- ❞ He'd reached out to take one of the dragon's clawed hands ⎛ Ansur had chosen the body of a dragonborn, perhaps to make things easier- perhaps to make them hurt all the more ⎠ and had placed it upon his cheek. Warm and human- ❝ Right? We both searched for ... something to turn back time ... ❞ Something to save me, even when I said I didn't want to be saved- even when I was numb to everything because I could not bear it ...

There's a moment where he dares to hope, where Ansur's expression softens and he brushes a thumb across Balduran's cheek. Yes, warm and human and as devastatingly handsome as the bronze dragon had remembered. As beautiful as the day he'd said farewell ⎛ for a time, not forever, Balduran had promised. I will be back soon- I will always come back to you. From Ansur's view, Balduran had lied ⎠ ; this was the person Ansur had fallen in love with. But it doesn't last.

"You cannot make me your thrall," comes the low growl, the clawed hand pulling away, leaving a scratch upon Balduran's cheek. When Balduran stumbles back, moves his hand to the cut, he stares at the blood he sees. A pale silver. ❝ Ansur, please! It isn't what you think- ❞ Gods, his head hurts and the world blurs, and it's different from before- it's not his bones breaking, it's his heart. It's not so much ceremorphosis as it is being able to feel the love, or lack thereof. Ansur doesn't see him, he only sees an illithid wearing the body of someone he loved-

He's going to kill me. Balduran doesn't have the Giantslayer this time ⎛ nor would he want to have it. Not for this- he never wanted to kill Ansur, he simply wanted to live- ⎠ and it leaves him with few options. In the chaos of his thoughts, he senses someone familiar- it's Fiyero, wandering somewhere in the mists- and how he hates to drag the tiefling into this, but if he doesn't ...

Ansur will kill him. There's the sickening thought that Ansur might kill Fiyero, too, and Balduran was rather certain that he'd never forgive himself- and he still wanted to live. He can feel Fiyero's tadpole. He reaches out- Please- please help me-