Chapter Text
Truly, in all the realms of gods and men, there was no place so aptly named as the Shadow Cursed Lands.
Darkness curled and coiled with oily tendrils, slick and cloying at the same time as they sucked at one’s bootsoles and made every withered stick and branch catch and tug as you passed. Gripping her torch tighter, Livian’s nose wrinkled with distaste as she eyed the rickety, threadbare, wooden bridge that spanned a chasm before her.
The drow was familiar with the suffocating shadows of the Underdark, and could recall all too vividly the treacherous knives and venomous words they shrouded, but these? These shadows loathed the ranger, circling with silent, petulant malice, watching the flickering of her burning torch for any sign of weakness, any opening they could exploit. She was an intruder upon these lands, and the sooner they could be rid of them, the better.
“Reckon I could give you a good toss, if you like?”
Livian’s eyes flicked to her side, meeting the barbarian’s cheeky grin as Karlach peered down at the drow, and she fought to keep her expression neutral. The tiefling’s easy gaiety and guileless smiles vexed her immensely, each one an invitation of something warm, inviting, kind.
Dangerous, a warning voice whispered in her mind.
“No.” Livian replied simply, not trusting her treacherous tongue, and Karlach’s gaze faltered, something pained flashing across her features before she forced it away with a strained smile.
“Ah, right, right, I’d probably burn you, huh?” The tiefling dismissed with a flippant wave, unconsciously taking a step back. Though Dammon’s efforts to mend her heart meant Karlach could touch over heavy layers and thick gauntlets, prolonged contact remained dangerous, and she remained shyly cautious. The ranger’s frown deepened, guilt lancing deep within her heart at the taller woman’s faltering expression.
“I’d gladly risk the burns if it was for you.” Her softened heart whispered.
“That’s… true.” Her reluctant mouth uttered instead.
Surface dwellers did not look kindly on ‘stray’ drow. Even among those who were sworn to Eilistraee, silver-eyed drow whose hearts were filled with laughter and song, who adopted the ways of those outside the Underdark to endear themselves to strangers, they were regarded with a measured skepticism. For a former Lolthsworn who’d fled Menzoberranzan with little more than her childhood bow and the cloak on her back?
The most flattering descriptor she had ever received was ‘cold.’
Forcing her gaze forward, Livian began to cross the bridge, torch held aloft as she gingerly tested each rotting plank, pointing out the safest spots to place their feet to her party behind her. This was simple, easy, understandable; watch her step, lead her companions, keep her eyes on the dark. Life alone in the Underdark had prepared her for this, the constant, omnipresent threat of danger honing her senses to a razor's edge, vigilance second nature in every breath.
Pathfinding, fighting, hunting, - these things she could grasp. Navigating the labyrinthian maze of her thawing heart seemed so alien as to be immeasurable in comparison. Livian had been the firstborn and only daughter of House Soril’Irin, an immeasurable honor among her people. She had been lauded with gifts, education, and strict, brutal training with the intention of inheriting her family’s immense prestige. In each regard she had excelled, besting her competitors and exceeding expectations, praised for exemplifying the ideal scion of a noble house. More than one attempt was made on her life, born of both jealousy and fear alike.
At least, until she came of age.
Was there any greater shame possible than for House Soril’Irin’s daughter to be revealed as a pathetic, submissive omega? In an instant, everything she had ever known fell out from under her. In an effort to salvage their house’s reputation, Livian’s mother had offered her up to Lolth as a sacrifice, ears deaf and eyes cold before the girl’s tearful pleading. Had it not been for her father risking his life to spirit her out of the city, there was no doubt her mother would have gleefully gutted Livian before the spider queen herself.
With a start she was drawn from her memories as her foot crashed through a decrepit plank, saved from falling into the shadowed abyss beneath them only by a single, powerful hand grasping the scruff of her cloak.
“Woah there, soldier! Watch your step!” Karlach chuckled from behind, one heated hand patting her back through her padded leather gambeson. Even through so many layers of leather and cloth, the warmth of the tiefling’s touch reached her ashen skin, sending a shiver down her spine at the contact. “You alright there, Liv?”
“Fine, thank you.” She murmured quietly in response, instinctively drawing away from the barbarian. Closeness meant vulnerability, vulnerability meant danger, and Karlach’s mere presence set her senses reeling with fear. With every simple touch or guileless smile the alpha drew the ranger’s heart out into the sunlight, frightening and exhilarating in equal measure. Taking the last few steps gingerly, Livian reached the other end with a small sigh of relief, carefully watching as her companions followed behind.
The air felt cloying in this dead, decaying place, and no matter how deep her breath, it never seemed to fully fill her lungs. Closing her eyes in meditative silence, she focused on her breathing, drawing each lungful of air slowly in before releasing it in a steady stream. In she drew the scent of rotting wood and necrotic earth, acknowledging each sharp smell and distasteful note before exhaling out once again. Still her treacherous body seemed to struggle, a vague, anxious something pulling at the errant threads of her mind.
Was she falling ill? Was it the ambient magic of this loathsome place? Slowly she inhaled once more before nearly choking on a sudden gasp, something earthy, rich, and inviting spiced with a heated, iron tang leaving her cheeks flushed and heart racing.
“You’re sure you’re alright there, soldier?” Came a soft, husky voice from far too close behind, and Livian whirled to face the towering woman looming over her, Karlach’s full lips curved downward in a worried pout. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“Y-yes, I just…” The ranger managed to mutter, swallowing thickly at the shaky tremor in her voice. “I was just…”
“You were just…?”
“Just… watching the shadows.” Livian mouthed at last, looking away.
“Uh-huh.” Karlach returned, skepticism dripping from her voice before it lowered into something softer, unbearably gentle, a quiet murmur just between the two of them. “If you’re not feeling well, you can say so, you know? There’s no need to be…”
Livian glanced up as the barbarian’s words trailed off, letting out a soft yelp of surprise as Karlach yanked her close, carefully pressing the drow up against her thick breastplate before ducking behind a tree and stomping on her torch, drowning the pair in darkness once more. With a quick motion the tiefling gestured for their companions to do the same, but Livian could not tear her eyes away from the taller woman’s face.
Her eyes were narrowed, brow furrowed as she scanned the treeline before them, expression pinched and lips curled into a slight frown. The ranger blinked owlishly up at her, traitorous lungs drawing in a deep breath of her overpowering, intoxicating scent. Even as her mind screamed at her to move, to stand up, to push her companion away, her body slackened against the searing metal and further into Karlach’s grasp, instincts making her limp and pliant in the alpha’s arms.
Danger, the venomous, spiteful voice in her mind whispered, the word echoing through her skull like a darkened cavern. No, another softer voice murmured in answer, Karlach.
“I think there’s someone- woah there Liv! Hey, stay with me!” Karlach whispered in her ear, voice turning frantic with worry as the drow’s knees threatened to buckle beneath her. “Shadowheart! I think something is wrong with Livian!”
Distantly she could hear the careful tread of armored boots as her head swam in a hazy fog, thoughts slipping away from her with frightening ease until two slender arms pulled her out of Karlach’s grip, laying her gently on the dirt below. Immediately the murky cloud of her mind coalesced, and she blinked up at the half-elf’s stern expression as she pressed a cool hand to Livian’s forehead. Blinking rapidly, she tried to force herself to stand, only to have the cleric place a firm hand on her chest, motioning for her to remain quiet. Behind the sharrite, Karlach stood once more, glancing worriedly down at the ranger one last time before carefully watching something around the corner of a nearby outcrop.
“There's a group of… soldiers, maybe?” The barbarian whispered back to them as Shadowheart’s hands ghosted above Livian’s skin, searching for whatever abnormality had nearly sent her tumbling into Karlach’s broad, powerful arms. “I think they’re-” Eyes widening, Karlach ducked back behind the tree trunk, attempting to hide herself behind it.
“You there! Show yourself!” A shout came from the clearing beyond, and the tiefling’s eyes darted towards it before falling on Livian once more. Chewing her bottom lip, she sighed before carefully emerging from her hiding place. “Slowly now,” the stern voice called out to her, flickering torchlight drawing nearer, “with your hands up!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Karlach grumbled.
Livian ground her teeth in frustration - she needed to get up, to stand, to have her bow drawn in the dark in case their unexpected visitors turned hostile, but her head swam, her thoughts sluggish and unfocused. A hand on her chest drew her from the mire of her mind, and looking at its owner she found Shadowheart shooting her a questioning look, eyes sharp with worry.
Are you alright now? Her expression asked, both of them well aware they could ill afford any infirmity in such a hostile place.
Yes, the ranger returned with grim determination, offering a short nod and setting her lips in a thin line. I can push through this.
After a moment of consideration, the cleric nodded back, standing and offering her companion a hand, which Livian pointedly refused to accept. The two moved to watch over Karlach, now standing with her hands raised just inside the torchlight of what looked like a group of local militia - if there even were any locals anymore. At the very least, they didn’t look shadow-touched, but that did little to set the drow’s heart at ease. Lae’zel seemed to share her lack of certainty, the hand on the hilt of her blade firm and ready to strike at the smallest sign of provocation. The tension in the air was palpable, and Livian’s gut twisted with worry and guilt in equal measure - if it hadn’t been for her sudden collapse, Karlach might not have been spotted.
Stupid, the voice in her mind hissed in displeasure, careless fool.
“Yonas, move in!” The woman at the lead hissed, just in time for something to snake out from the darkness, taking advantage of the flickering edge of their torchlight and whipping the crossbowman into the dark. “Yonas!”
The sounds of the man’s inevitable death echoed throughout the small clearing, and Karlach swore an oath and drew her axe from her back, eyes wide and watching the treeline. When the man returned once more, now clearly corrupted by the same curse that nipped at their heels and flanked by towering, formless shadows, Lae’zel and Shadowheart stormed into the clearing, and if the soldiers had any objections to their sudden appearance, they did not show it.
“Careful!” Karlach shouted, eyes flicking up to where Livian remained hidden, waiting to strike. “Stay in the light!”
“You heard her!” The woman in the lead bellowed, brandishing her torch at a nearby shadow in a wide arc. “Harpers! Form up!”
The corrupted crossbowman took aim, eyes filled with empty malice and focused on the most prominent of those in front of him: Karlach. The tiefling just had time to realize she was in the man’s sights, gritting her teeth for the stinging barb she knew she would not have time to dodge, when a black fletched arrow sprouted from the man’s eye socket like a murderous flower, sending him tumbling to the dirt below.
“Thanks soldier!” The barbarian called out, grinning up at the ridge where she was already nocking another arrow. Frustratedly, Livian tried to block out the swell of giddiness that bloomed in her gut at Karlach’s words. She praised me! Her mind chattered, flickering thoughts distracting her aim and causing her to miss a slippery shadow by a hair's breadth. “Liv!” Karlach called out in sudden alarm, and her eyes snapped to meet the tiefling’s own, now wide with terror. “Liv look out!”
The words registered just in time for her to spin, a massive, slender-limbed figure seemingly formed from the oily shadows that curled around them looming over her. The beast struck before she could react, darkened claws cutting deep, the wounds howling with the familiar, frigid chill of necromantic magic and sending her tumbling over the edge of the outcropping and into the clearing below. She landed hard, hearing the telltale shatter of glass as her body crushed the potion bag on the back of her belt, a ragged cry torn from her lungs.
Her already sluggish mind swam with the sharp pain in her gut, and she did not notice her assailant until he was already on top of her. The infected harper from before, an arrow still protruding from his eye socket crawled over her, his teeth gnashing in feral violence. She just barely managed to jam her forearm against his neck, struggling to keep him from ripping out the tender flesh of her throat. Fumbling for the knife on her belt with numbed fingers, she cursed loudly as it slipped from her grasp, kicked away in their fevered grappling. Either intentionally or not, the former harper’s knee dug into the lacerations on her stomach as he struggled, and she cried out in agony, her grip slipping as she fought to maintain leverage.
With a primal, furious roar, the scrabbling, writhing pressure was alleviated as a reddened blur tore the man-turned-monster from her, hurling him against a nearby tree trunk where he collided with a nauseating, audible crack. Karlach stood between them, her lips curled in a defiant snarl, and with one swift movement she kicked the man back when he lunged for her again before crushing his head beneath her boot heel. In an instant she was kneeling next to Livian, hands hovering worriedly over her body as she fought the urge to touch the ranger and ensure she was alright.
“Liv! Hey, stay with me soldier, look at me!” Forcing herself to slow her breathing, Livian grimaced, doing her best to keep pressure on the wound in her gut. With a quiet groan, she rolled onto her side, jabbing one thumb wordlessly at her back, towards the potion bag she prayed had at least one intact bottle inside.
“Potion.” She managed to squeeze out through gritted teeth. “Please.”
“Right, yeah shit.” Karlach muttered, hands fumbling with the buckle. “Fuck.” She bit out, and the drow could hear her sifting through the broken glass. “Shit, Liv looks like they’re all broken, I’m all out too. Shadowheart!”
The sound of armored boots approached, and she felt herself being rolled onto her back once more. “Hells…” Shadowheart swore under her breath, the dim glow of healing magic slowly knitting the torn flesh back together. “It looks cursed.” The cleric observed with furrowed brows. Livian focused on keeping her breathing even as the woman leading the Harpers entered her field of vision, expression paling as she looked down at where Shadowheart’s hands hovered above the ranger’s abdomen.
“The shadows claws can inflict a necrotic curse if they get in your flesh.” The woman explained, her expression grim. “She’ll need to get out of these shadows before those wounds can be properly healed.”
“I don’t suppose you have somewhere in mind?” Shadowheart asked without looking up, her face pinched as she focused on trying to mend what she could.
“I do.” The woman answered with a nod. “There’s a safe place to rest nearby.”
“That’s a helluva ask in a place like this.” Karlach returned, but her voice was strained, and she tapped absently on her thigh as she glanced back at Livian. “How far is it?”
“Close enough that she should make it.” The Harper returned in reply to Karlach’s unspoken question. “But we should leave, now. Before the shadows close in again.”
The tiefling nodded stiffly, her eyes softening as she met Livian’s face once more. “What do you say, soldier?” She asked soothingly as she leaned in. “Can you stand?” The drow grunted an affirmative, her eyes still squeezed shut to keep the world from spinning.
“Then let us leave, and quickly.” Lae’zel practically growled, her eyes sweeping their surroundings warily. “The shadows still hunger.” Shadowheart offered Livian a hand, exhaustion writ plain on her face, and the ranger accepted it gratefully.
“I’ve done all I can for now.” The cleric sighed pulling Livian to her feet and tucking her shoulder under the drow’s arm, before giving the woman a puzzling, questioning look. After a moment she returned her gaze forward, pulling Livian along. “Let's get moving.”
“Thank you…” Was all she managed to mutter through a pained wince, leaning heavily on her companion. The group departed, with the pair of them trailing towards the rear by virtue of their hobbling pace. In front of them Karlach glanced back every few paces, her expression clouded and fingers clenching into fists as she fought the urge to reach out and touch the wounded woman. It was slow going, each step leaving Livian feeling weaker and dizzier than the last. Eventually they made it to some sort of settlement, an enormous, silvery dome holding the twisted shadows at bay.
At the head of their group some kind of commotion sounded, and she felt Shadowheart’s body tense, but between her swimming vision and complete exhaustion, Livian could barely lift her head to see what was happening. Eventually it seemed resolved, and the next thing she knew, some indistinct figure was leading the pair through creaking hallways and dilapidated rooms until at last showing them to a small, private room with a bed. At the sight of the moth-eaten and threadbare mattress, Livian had to choke back a sob.
An actual bed.
“Easy now, slowly.” Shadowheart murmured as she lowered the ranger, but her words fell on deaf ears as she nearly collapsed against the pillow. Indistinct voices discussed something but Livian’s mind was too hazy to focus on the sound. “Just put it there, she’ll be fine Karlach.” Shadowheart answered forcefully. “Yes, I will let you know, now please leave.”
Allowing her eyes to flutter shut, Livian tuned out the noises, sinking deeper into the softest bed she’d lain on in months. She was so tired, and everything was so gods damned loud. Could they not just grant a few minutes to rest? Before she could drift off, her back was being lifted and something thick, bitter, and distinctly medicinal was being poured down her throat. The drow sputtered as she fought to swallow it, gagging on the miserable, rancid taste. When at last she swallowed it all, it settled low in her belly, pooling in a comforting warmth that seemed to radiate through the rest of her body.
Slowly the world around her seemed to sharpen once more, her thoughts still muddled and sluggish but her awareness creeping back in at the edges. Blinking away the blurriness that still remained, she focused on Shadowheart’s face as she looked down at her with a pinched expression, exhaustion writ plain on the lines of her face.
“You’re presenting.” She stated simply, her tone pointed, but not accusatory. Livian felt the blood freeze in her veins as she was startled to full attention, her heart racing as she opened her mouth to protest, but the cleric continued. “You’re far enough along that I could smell you even over this when I got close.”
Shadowheart held up the intricately-carved wooden pendant the ranger wore around her neck at all times, the cotton inside soaked in an oil she’d extracted from a kruthik’s communicative glands. The drow tried to lunge for the necklace, but hissed in pain when her still-healing wounds protested. Shaking her head, Shadowheart walked closer, pressing the pendant into her palm.
“Relax.” The half-elf soothed, sitting tiredly in a rickety wooden chair she’d pulled up to the drow’s bedside. “I suspect it's not information you want to share with the rest of the group, given all the effort you went into hiding it?” The ranger could only nod silently, unable to meet the raven-haired woman’s gaze.
How could she not have noticed? Certainly the crushing anxiety that had clouded her mind each night they spent in the Underdark had made it difficult to think of anything else. Her mind conjured danger in every shadow, saw her mother’s sneering face around every corner. Yet when she had continued to feel unwell after reaching the surface, she had merely chalked it up to the effects of the shadow curse.
When had she become so foolish? When had she allowed her guard to slip so low? A kind face filled her mind’s eye, rich, golden eyes peering down guilelessly at her beneath a broken horn, full, crimson lips split in a wide grin-
Shaking her head, Livian dispelled the image, rubbing her hands down her face as though she could scrape away the peculiar mix of longing and warmth that flooded her mind at the recollection.
“Well,” Shadowheart continued with a shrug, “I certainly won’t be the one to divulge your secrets.” Her voice lowered slightly, becoming softer, almost comforting. “Though I hope you know that none of us would look down on you for being an omega.”
“I know.” Livian managed to murmur at last, shame burning in her cheeks. “I just… can’t.”
“It's your decision.” The cleric returned, waving her hand to dismiss the heavy air that settled between them. “Regardless, you’ll have to find some way to deal with your heat while we’re here, before you get yourself hurt in a way I can’t patch back up.”
“I take suppressants,” the drow started, wincing as she sat up, “in my potion bag, they’re-”
“This potion bag?” Shadowheart replied dryly, holding up the crushed remains of her satchel, now soaked through with a variety of liquids, before giving it a small shake to emphasize the clinking of broken glass within. “Any other ideas?”
Livian’s mind raced as she fought to think through what she now recognized was a rising fog of need, rubbing her tired eyes. “Do you perhaps have any you can spare?”
“I don’t have any need for them.” The sharran replied somewhat proudly, sitting up straighter in her chair, “Shar protects me from the worst of my body’s… natural inclinations.” The ranger frowned at that, never having felt jealousy towards her goddess’ spiteful attentions before now. With a tired sigh she laid back down, fingers worrying at the frayed edge of the blanket as she struggled to think clearly.
“I’ll just… figure something out.” She muttered, and Shadowheart shrugged in response, standing to leave.
“Well, in the meantime try and get some rest. That Harper antidote should have cleaned out most of the necrotic magic in your system, but your wounds will still take some time to heal.” Moving towards the door, she turned back, offering Livian a small, wry smile. “I’ll look around myself, and see if they’ve anything to help on hand.” She murmured, but the drow had already slipped into exhausted, dreamless sleep.