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The flowing tails of Nocturne’s robes lightly scrape over the wet stone floor of the interrogation room, dimly lit and impossible to navigate without prior experience. Her boot steps do not falter; she knows this cloister better than she knows herself. “This better be urgent, novice . You know how the Mother Superior feels about interruptions.” She enjoys the way the edge in her tone strikes fear into the hearts of the acolytes around her; it pays to be Shadowheart’s favorite and second-in-command, on top of the official title of Quartermaster.
“Of course.” Novice Monteith only sounds slightly concerned, nodding to himself as he guides Nocturne to the rear of the dungeon, where a crumpled figure sits on their knees, a burlap sack tied snugly over their head. “Mother Superior will be pleased. I guarantee it.”
“…I doubt it.”
Nocturne barely sees the rise and fall of their prisoner’s chest; it is impossible to make out anything else with all the blood staining her clothes- some of it still wet and dark.
Novices Tylda and Humboldt stand proudly behind their catch, though they are careful not to look Nocturne directly into fluorescent violet eyes- the Mother Superior has forbidden them from such shows of insubordination.
“What’s this?” Nocturne glances up at them quizzically. Shadowheart has issued no commands for capture; surely Nocturne would know about it if she did, being her lieutenant.
Nocturne gets a single glance at the boots; fine leather, intricate carvings, the mark of Figaro “Facemaker” Pennygood expertly pressed into the side of the heel.
From this detail alone, Nocturne surmises that this group of novices is about to meet their bloody end. (And, frankly, given their history of tormenting Shadowheart and herself, many years ago, she considers it well deserved).
Nocturne tries not to enjoy this; really, she does. Shadowheart will be livid , and that in itself makes Nocturne worried for her closest friend and confidant.
But there is something so unbelievably hilarious about the magnitude of their blunder, and she just can’t seem to look away.
Gingerly, Nocturne does away with the burlap sack covering their mystery prisoner’s head, and winces aloud when her suspicions are indeed confirmed to be true.
There, poisoned, beaten, and struggling to breathe properly, is none other than Serena “Tav” Tavyndír, a bloody hero of Baldur’s Gate, a notable public figure, and of course: Shadowheart’s former lover.
If Serena is to be called an “ old flame” , then she is a flame to which Shadowheart has tended to very diligently over the years after their separation, despite ending their romantic relationship.
It is known that Shadowheart commands an extensive network of spies; it is lesser known that Shadowheart often utilizes their stealthy expertise to eavesdrop on none other than Serena, adjusting to her new life in the city.
But Nocturne has never heard Shadowheart give an order to capture, or subdue her, or frankly- for her agents to show themselves at all . Not only have they broken the cardinal rule of stealth: never to be seen or heard, but worse yet, they’ve broken the cardinal rule of Mother Superior Shadowheart’s own heart:
No one is ever to lay so much as a finger on Serena Tavyndír.
Nocturne winces when she comes face to face with the soldier-turned-noble-again, eyeing the bruising around her eyes, her lips, the blood staining her features.
“She didn’t come easy.” Novice Humboldt bellows with a laugh, perhaps too boldly for his companions, judging by the looks they give him.
“I’d imagine she didn’t.” Nocturne groans.
It’s a well known fact- in the upper city, anyway, that the family Tavyndír has partially returned to their former prowess as a patriar name, purchasing a new estate befitting of a Hero of Baldur’s Gate.
It’s a well known fact in the Cloister of Somber Embrace, however, that no Sharran is to set foot in said estate for any reason; a directive from the Mother Superior herself.
So, really, Nocturne can’t fathom how these novices have managed to misconstrue her words so egregiously.
Nocturne tilts Serena’s chin up, shaking her head at the damage they’ve caused the poor woman, who has been nothing but gracious to Nocturne upon every brief meeting they’ve ever shared.
“So?” Novice Tylda grins like a meazel, and Nocturne takes, admittedly, a great amount of joy in informing her of her fate. “When can present her with our catch ?”
Nocturne sighs. “...This instant. Enjoy your last few moments before you join our Lady’s embrace.”
“Really? That’s the best you can do?” Shadowheart sneers at the map laid out on the desk in her quarters. “And here I thought better of you, Gloommask .” Shadowheart says the name itself as if its an insult, and she watches the Fidelian before her bow her head in shame.
“...My apologies, Mother.” Gloommask quickly attempts to make up for her failings, whatever they may be- she’s spent hours poring over this map of the Counting House, and she isn’t aware of a single failing in her plans to get into the high-security vaults.
But the Mother Superior’s word is never to be questioned; if she says it’s wrong, then it’s wrong- and there’ll be lashings for anyone who dares to voice their dissent.
There’s a knock at the chamber doors, and Shadowheart boredly rests her head atop her arm, her head still swimming from last night’s activities and copious amounts of wine.
“Not now.” Shadowheart drones, rubbing her temples. She often wonders if Viconia resented every waking hour of her duties as much as she seems to now.
The knocking comes again, more persistently this time, and Shadowheart has half a mind to instruct the sentries posted at her door to silence the poor bastard behind it.
….But that would take the fun of the punishment right from Shadowheart’s hands, and she can’t have that- especially not when every display of strength seems to keep her coup-hungry followers in line.
“The door.” Shadowheart snaps at Gloommask expectantly, and the Fidelian hurries to answer the knocking, nearly bowled over by Nocturne as she does so.
“Mother Superior.” Nocturne greets; clipped, worried, and with quite the commotion behind her; vaguely, Shadowheart can make out a crumpled figure, supported by two novices, neither of which look particularly happy about.
Wonderful.
The surprises never cease , apparently.
Shadowheart registers worry - genuine worry, in Nocturne’s gaze, and she sobers, rising from her chair.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Shadowheart scowls at the interruption; Nocturne knows such displays of aggression are not intended for her, and she gracefully works to explain.
“Novices...Humboldt, Tylda, and Monteith.” Nocturne utters.
Three names.
That’s all Nocturne says, before she gestures behind her and steps aside, allowing Shadowheart’s eyes to finally rake across the prisoner, slumped in their possession.
Shadowheart forgets how to breathe.
“ Serena.” She utters the word so softly, under her breath, but even so; the name grips her heart like a vice, unwilling to let her go.
Immediately, Shadowheart feels more than she has in the five years it’s been since the slaying of the Netherbrain.
Bruised, battered, and breathing raggedly- the edges of her lips a faint purple - is Shadowheart’s former lover, barely conscious, but alive .
Shadowheart doesn’t register anything at all for a moment; a fissure opens in her heart and bursts into a thousand cracks as she freezes, rooted to the spot, studying every contusion, every laceration adorning the face that used to kiss her awake every morning.
Cuts adorn the hands that cradled Shadowheart’s face so tenderly after the hardest time in her life.
Shadowheart feels herself shake with unbridled rage.
This is truly the last thing she was ever expecting; she has not personally laid eyes on Serena since the night they parted. Foolishly, Shadowheart had deluded herself into thinking she might not feel the same, if she ever laid eyes on her again.
How very wrong she was.
“Seize them.” Shadowheart whispers; she cannot find her voice, cannot find the Mother Superior within her; not now.
“You can’t-” the novices protests are cut off by the approaching sentries at the door, ready to act on their Mother Superior’s command.
“ Now .” Shadowheart grits, and steps forward, with Nocturne’s assistance, to help guide Serena’s form to her bed.
“Take them to the dungeon.” Nocturne advises the sentries as they apprehend the novices for what will likely be their final day alive, judging by the shaking tone of the Mother Superior.
“Close the door.” Shadowheart snaps at Gloommask, and when she hesitates for even a single second, Shadowheart nearly rips her head clean off her shoulders. “Leave us!” Shadowheart roars this time, and the vein in her neck becomes prominent with the effort.
Gloommask does not tempt fate by staying behind; instead she quickly obeys the directive, more than happy to be away from her Mother Superior’s ire.
“How?” Shadowheart finally gasps for air as she makes contact with Serena for the first time in ages; she wraps a hand around her arm and lifts as Nocturne does the same. They make for the bed, moving quickly, efficiently.
“...They thought her a high value asset.” Nocturne explains with a shake of her head. “From what I hear, they took her from Elfsong last night.”
“Elfsong?” Shadowheart repeats aloud.
Memories fill the void in her mind; memories that her Lady has not touched. In truth, it would be much easier simply to forget Tav and their times together in their entirety. Shadowheart opts not to think about it, but she wonders if the pain she feels from these memories serves her Lady of Loss. It’s the only explanation for why she hasn’t been wiped entirely clean; she remembers all of their journey together, and the nights spent warming each other’s bedrolls.
She remembers every time delicate fingers dabbed at tears along her cheeks, every time soft lips pressed a kiss against her scowl and delivered a sweet laugh to go with it.
Despite how Shadowheart herself tries to forget, so desperate to unlearn the feeling of being held at night, of her laughter swallowed into kisses as they both sunned themselves on a warm day.
Serena’s ink has stained its way into the pages of her life; short of tearing out entire chapters and leaving a jagged, torn mess behind, Shadowheart does not know how to recover from being loved in such a manner.
“Dark Lady preserve me….look at the state of her.” Shadowheart shakes as they lay Serena down onto the bed, Shadowheart promptly adjusting a pillow to support her neck.
Her hands shake violently as her eyes roam the battered expanse of Serena’s face; still breathtakingly beautiful, to Shadowheart, despite the trauma.
It’s a rare sight to see Serena battered in her presence; Shadowheart had spent more than her fair share of time mending wounds on the soldier. She could never sleep, knowing Serena was in pain. Little has changed now, despite the circumstances they find themselves in.
Shadowheart wants to gut the novices responsible; she might , if Nocturne doesn’t talk her down with a timely intervention.
“She’s hardy.” Nocturne reassures softly. “She survived the Absolute, after all.” Nocturne reminds.
“I…I need to heal her.” Shadowheart’s jaw sets.
In truth, it has been quite some time since she’s wielded her Lady’s gifts for anything other than enforcing the law of the cloister. She’s almost forgotten the healing words; she remembers what she does because it was always her favorite subject to learn and by far the most natural for her.
She always did prefer mending wounds to inflicting them.
Shar lashes out at the errant thought; Shadowheart winces and yelps as the familiar icy hot burn rips its way through her hand and ripples across her body.
Of course her Lady would protest her utilizing her gifts to save the life of an infidel ; Shadowheart knows her actions are not becoming of the Mother Superior.
…And yet, she can’t bring herself to care for anything other than Serena’s safety and well-being.
She knows, if the tables were turned, Serena would do anything to protect her.
“Which poison was used?” Shadowheart asks numbly, and Nocturne, bless her , fumbles in the pocket of her coat before reaching for a vial.
“Vitriol of Night.” Nocturne recites as she hands Shadowheart the antidote. “...Would explain the paralysis as well.”
Shadowheart does not hesitate in administering the antidote to Serena’s parted lips, gently tilting her head as she watches Serena swallow.
“...Any witnesses?” Shadowheart demands.
“None that the novices saw.”
“...As if they possess the experience or the knowledge to make that judgement.” Shadowheart snaps viciously, and then eases slightly, remembering none of the novices are actually in the room to hear her scorn. “From Elfsong?” Shadowheart growls. “She likely wasn’t even armed -”
“She wasn’t.” Nocturne confirms, adding salt to the wound.
“...I can’t…” Shadowheart’s pulse hammers in her ears and she can hardly think straight in Serena’s presence, after dreaming about her nearly every night. “I…She can’t…I can’t lose her.” Shadowheart whimpers , and abruptly shuts her mouth, cheeks flushing.
Everything seems to hit her at once; the intensity of her lingering feelings for the soldier on her bed, the desire to appear put-together in front of Nocturne, despite her knowing the truth of it all. Worse yet; Shar sees all. At this very moment, Shar watches, privy to her every thought, shocking her for her disobedience of the heart.
“You won’t.” Nocturne assures from the other side of the bed, feeling for Serena’s temperature. “The antidote will take effect soon…you’ll see.”
Shadowheart doesn’t know what she’d do without Nocturne; a part of her seems to realize she likely wouldn’t even be drawing breath, without her calming, grounding presence.
“...and then I can begin healing her.” Shadowheart nods, mostly to herself, numb to the whirlwind of events that’s just blown into her chambers.
Never did she expect to see, and touch , Serena Tavyndír again, in her lifetime- let alone have her curled upon her bed in her cloister chambers.
Fate will not let them rest apart; Shadowheart knows the feeling all too well.
But the true knife in the heart is not the presence of her lady, or even the state she finds Serena in. No, it is the guilt that grips her, icy cold and unrelenting, as she realizes she’s happy to see her, all the same. Her heart flutters violently, it cries out defiantly at every idle touch of Shadowheart’s fingertips to Serena’s feverish skin.
Each beat of her heart whispers a word, a warm sentiment, growing ever more clear with each second she spends gazing upon her former lover.
Home, home, home, home-
She has no mother, no father, no siblings, and her home should be these walls, this very cloister that operates at her command.
“She needs proper rest.” Nocturne begins, worrying her lip as she takes in her leader’s broken form, sat an inch away from Serena and unable to put any more distance between the two of them. “I can see that you’re not disturbed for the rest of the day.” Nocturne adds softly, noting the beginnings of tears in Shadowheart’s eyes.
“...Thank you.” Shadowheart turns away, unwilling to allow Nocturne to see her cry, and it hurts , despite everything.
There was a time when Nocturne herself was responsible for dabbing away at each of those diamond-like tears. There was a time when she was Shadowheart’s sole comfort in the unforgiving cold of cloister life; but even Nocturne cannot deny that a flame is lit behind Shadowheart’s gaze whenever she seems to cross paths with the human soldier on the bed before her.
It has not been a particularly easy truth to accept; but if being Sharran has taught her anything, it’s that the truth is often difficult to swallow. So Nocturne wraps her truth in honeyed words and obedience to the one friend that has ever cared for her; what makes Shadowheart happy makes her happy.
And the truth of the matter is that right now, only one soul has the capacity to heal Shadowheart’s aching loneliness, and she lies before them, sleeping atop Shadowheart’s own pillow.
Shadowheart doesn’t know how many hours she spends watching over Serena’s healing process. It’s already near impossible to tell the time of day from so far underground, where daylight never reaches, but Serena’s presence seems to throw her perception off entirely.
Nocturne has made good on her word; no one has disturbed Shadowheart since they brought Serena to her chambers. Only Nocturne occasionally flits in, with food or water for Shadowheart that barely gets touched before she does away with the dishes.
Shadowheart remains statuesque in her position over Serena. She keeps watch, ensuring her heart rate falls back into normalcy, the purple hue of toxins fading from her lips.
She begins an arduous healing process; Serena faced the brunt of a traditional Sharran kidnapping, and she bears extensive injuries to show for it. Every cut that Shadowheart heals only further fans the flames of rage towards her novices, so careless were they as to strike without her command, under the pathetic excuse of “ taking initiative.”
Her Lady deserves better; Serena deserves better. If her iron fist needs to tighten, so be it.
Shadowheart does not rest until Serena’s body bears not a single scratch. Her reserves are nearly empty, but Serena’s state improves remarkably overnight. As Shadowheart works, it’s impossible not to drink in the sight of the soldier, still in fighting shape despite her new life as a redeemed patriar.
Shadowheart’s fingers press against the bandage she and Nocturne so carefully have applied to Serena’s shoulder, bound around her waist to cover the numerous injuries. Her fingertips trace against a taut abdomen, and Shadowheart closes her eyes.
“Heart!” A hiss, a sharp intake of shaky breath beneath the moonlight, somewhere between the Druid’s Grove and still far from Baldur’s Gate.
A pleased hum against pleasantly warm skin is the answer. “So tense.” comes Shadowheart’s purr, her lips tracing a line down Serena’s bare chest.
“Maybe it’s all the biting.”
The shaky reply has Shadowheart chuckling softly against her own trail of kisses. “Is that a complaint?”
“...Never.” A hand wraps around Shadowheart’s chin, cupping it, directing her gaze upwards gently. It’s always a suggestion, never a demand, with Serena.
Shadowheart complies, and her heart stutters. Her thoughts go blank, her mouth goes dry, and she finds her lips pulled into a smile, despite the way her mind fails to process rational thought.
She looks beautiful. The silver light of the moon does not annoy Shadowheart this once, for the way it seems to bathe Serena to the point where she glows. Shadowheart marvels up at her, appreciating every inch of exposed skin, from the soft swell of her hips, the muscled expanse of her thighs, to the gentle curve of her shoulders. Shadowheart has had her fair share of trysts, she is no stranger to sharing her bedroll with someone who catches her eye enough.
But her true beauty strikes Shadowheart speechless even now- there is a kindness in her gaze, an adoration that is truly foreign to Shadowheart. She smiles, easy and charming, and Shadowheart forgets her mission, her Lady, all of it.
Shadowheart ignores the chill in her heart that tells her this is precisely why they can never be.
Serena runs a gentle, calming hand through Shadowheart’s hair, set loose from her plait for the evening, and Shadowheart’s eyes close at the wonderful sensation, tilting her head backwards into her hand. She bares her neck, exposing herself, making herself weak in front of Serena at the display, despite years of training.
Serena’s eyes twinkle with an emotion Shadowheart cannot name; even so, the sentiment behind them is ever clear.
You’re safe with me.
Shadowheart blinks away the memory, and the tears in her eyes that form along with it. She heals the exact spots her lips had blazed so many trails over.
She exhausts herself until she winds up beside Serena, boneless, unable to move.
Serena’s warmth gives Shadowheart more comfort than she realizes.
Shadowheart eventually falls asleep against her will; it’s dreamless and pitch black, a relative blessing , now that she’s learned what nightmares her mind is capable of.
Shadowheart awakens to the sensation of an arm draping itself across her waist, and a knee tucking itself between her own.
Though Shadowheart shares her bed with the acolytes jockeying for her attention when she feels the desire, no one is to stay in her quarters after the fact. She does not wish to be held in any capacity, and there certainly isn’t room for trifles like sentiment in a position such as her own. It’s merely another form of release and nothing more.
Now, she’s certain there is the warmth of another body pressed against hers, and a careless arm wrapping around her waist.
It’s an entirely unwelcome sensation; her instincts take over, and her training makes short work of the offending hand, before her eyes can even open. She twists the arm, scowling as a sharp cry of pain pierces the silence of her quarters.
“Ah, Hells, what am I- Heart?!” Serena wakes with a vicious startle, crying out in pain at the way her arm nearly snaps in Shadowheart’s grip.
“I’m so sorry! I-I thought you were-” Shadowheart’s eyes widen and she instantly releases Serena’s arm, apology written all over her stunned expression as Serena nearly pulls a muscle trying to sit upright.
Serena.
Shadowheart had been this close to feeling her arms around her, like she’s dreamt of for so long, only to go and violently wreck the occasion.
“...I- oh Gods that hurts-” Serena whimpers and Shadowheart’s heart leaps into her throat.
“Sorry, sorry!” Shadowheart hisses guiltily. “Hold still.” She grabs the arm she’s likely broken and closes her eyes. “ Te curo.”
It’s an easier fix, this time, and relief floods Serena’s features, melting away into a more perplexed look as she studies her arm, and then Shadowheart. She’s positively unable to fathom just how she’s managed to end up in the cloister of all places.
Shadowheart heaves a sigh of relief and covers her eyes with her hands for a moment, head falling back onto her pillow.
It’s embarrassing enough that her novices went and kidnapped the poor woman, the last thing she needs is Shadowheart snapping her arm off.
“Heart?”
Oh, the way a simple word is still able to make Shadowheart’s heart quake and quiver in her chest.
It’s been ages since she’s been called that , in such a sweet sounding register, no less. Shadowheart smiles behind her hand and quickly bites down on her lip before Lady Shar can berate her for the display of weakness.
“... Heart? ” Serena croaks again, and Shadowheart cracks an eye open to look at her, sitting upright, pinching herself again and again in what can only be described as a comical sight.
She eyes Shadowheart for a moment, this time truly taking her in. She cannot see Shadowheart’s eyes, and so she settles on her lips, at first. Her gaze slowly trickles down to Shadowheart’s chest- she takes one glance at the plunging neckline of the cloister suit and immediately, her cheeks turn rosy. She clears her throat and glances away, suddenly finding the braziers to be quite fascinating.
“Well…it’s good to know you still know how to take care of yourself.” Serena mumbles finally, but the awe in her voice is clear. She speaks from the heart even now- only she could receive a broken arm from Shadowheart and compliment her after the fact.
A beautiful, respectful, chivalrous fool.
It occurs to Shadowheart, not for the first time, how much she’s missed her.
“...Tav.” Shadowheart whispers, the nickname so familiar on her lips that it almost tastes sweet.
“...I’ve died, haven’t I?” Serena mumbles, and Shadowheart decides to end her suffering, sitting up, coming face to face with her. “Is that why I’m seeing you?”
“...Nearly, this time.” Shadowheart sighs. “But I was able to prevent that , by the grace of my Lady.”
Serena’s lip twitches nearly imperceptibly at the mention of Shar, but Shadowheart catches it anyway.
Nothing has changed, apparently.
Serena’s blank stare informs Shadowheart that she’s done a rather poor job of explaining. Shadowheart draws in a breath. There won’t be an easy way of admitting that she’s been keeping tabs on her since their separation.
“...This is my fault.” Shadowheart acknowledges. “I…my novices… misunderstood their orders. I- believe me, this was never supposed to happen. I…I will personally deal with anyone who’d dare to lay a hand on you, I swear it-”
Serena jolts forward, and then seems to catch herself, pausing a foot away from Shadowheart, even if it appears to physically pain her to do so.
Shadowheart wonders if Serena intends to strike her; in all fairness, it might be deserved.
…And then Serena opens her mouth, and reminds Shadowheart just whom she is dealing with.
“-Could I…may I hug you?” Serena whispers so tenderly, with such a fond gaze that sparkles with unshed tears, and Shadowheart is powerless.
Oh.
You don’t have to ask.
“...Yes.” Shadowheart croaks, and this time, she allows Serena to wind herself around her as she always used to. Serena cradles her as if she’s precious, burying her face in the crook of Shadowheart’s neck, deeply inhaling her favorite scent. Chills scatter across Shadowheart’s body as Serena’s lips incidentally graze an exposed patch of skin, gently brushing against her neck as she moves Shadowheart’s plait off her shoulder.
There is deep intimacy in each breath they take; Shadowheart feels unfaithful to her Lady in this moment. Shadowheart claws at Serena’s bare back, covered only by the bandage around her shoulder and waist.
Serena sways in their hug as she always does; it is Shadowheart’s turn to bury a watery smile into Serena’s shoulder.
Serena’s hands eventually trace soothing circles along the expanse of Shadowheart’s back, and Shadowheart feels the pinprick sensation of tears in her eyes. She is famished for a touch so tender; since her ascension, her heart has shut itself completely.
They cling to each other, and Shadowheart thanks her Lady for the opportunity to hold Serena, alive and well, in her arms once more.
“It’s so good to see you.” Serena whispers by her ear, and Shadowheart holds her tighter in response, hoping to get her sentiment across without any words at all.
Shadowheart’s fingers play idly with a few curls that have come loose from Serena’s bun; holding remarkably well, despite the rest of her. The updo always reminds Shadowheart of Serena; she’s pleased to know Serena still looks like herself.
After all, it wasn’t Serena who’d gone and changed.
“...I do wish we were meeting under… better …circumstances.” Shadowheart acknowledges, as they slowly break apart. “...But it’s always good to see you.”
Her body instantly longs for Serena’s presence, but she swallows the bitter taste of acceptance. That is not her life- not anymore.
“You look…” Serena trails off. “...Beautiful as ever.” She settles.
She does not utter a word about how Shadowheart looks tired , how her beauty is wasted away in a cloister beneath the city when she should be living amongst their friends. She speaks earnestly, for what it’s worth: she’s always found Shadowheart to be breathtaking, and that won’t ever change.
“You’ve aged…slightly.” Shadowheart notes softly, and though she intended it as a playful jab, the words fall short.
Serena has acquired a new scar, adorning the underside of her chin. She also boasts a new line across the furrow of her brow- Shadowheart noticed it during a bout of Tav’s expressive dreaming.
They’re small details one might overlook, if they weren’t madly in love with her, at some point.
Serena’s eyes reflect her hurt, and Shadowheart wants to bite her tongue. By her Lady- when did it become so difficult to speak ?
“I-I didn’t mean…only that you have a new scar…I noticed it while you were sleeping.” Shadowheart corrects awkwardly. She makes a mental note to add a sense of dignity to ask for in her next round of prayers.
Serena’s gaze softens for a moment, and the smile she flashes Shadowheart is genuine. “This?” She gestures to the scar beneath her chin. “...Would you believe it if I told you a Sahuagin from the docks dragged me to the depths of the sea, and I managed to swim away with just a scratch?”
Shadowheart glances at her, wearing a puzzled expression. “Truly?” She breathes. “I…what were you doing? Wait- is that…that’s the plot from The Salty Mermaid .” Shadowheart scowls, and Serena grins at her. “ Very funny . Care to tell me how it actually happened, or would you prefer to sit here and spin tales for me all morning?”
“...Fine.” Serena nudges her, and Shadowheart smiles down at the familiar touch.
She’d forgotten how sweet it feels to be so comfortable in the presence of another, without a hierarchy, or her reputation to worry about.
“The truth is, I had a bit of an incident while trying my hand at smithing , believe it or not.”
Shadowheart really should know to bite her tongue, by now.
“Oh, I believe it.” Shadowheart mutters rather snidely, causing Serena to lift a brow in surprise. “I hear you’re at her forge more than your-” Shadowheart seems to remember herself at this instant, mouth clamping shut, but it’s far too late.
“...The forge?” Serena’s eyes narrow. “...And how might you know that?”
Shadowheart bristles. “Forget I said anything.”
“...I haven’t seen you in years , Shadowheart, I would know, I’ve kept the date.” Serena insists, and the passion in her tone sets Shadowheart’s soul ablaze. “...I know you, you can’t help yourself. I assumed… the occasional spy here and there, what with Wyll’s ceremonies being so public , but…Gods, how long have you been watching me?” Serena shakes her head in disbelief. “And the others, too?”
Shadowheart pushes up from the bed, shaking her head. “ I haven’t.” She grits.
“How long have your underlings been spying on me, then?” Serena presses.
“Lady Shar demands that I keep abreast of what happens in the city-”
Serena rolls her eyes and this time, she does not hide her disdain for Shadowheart’s Lady of Loss. “And your Lady wishes you to keep abreast of me , is that it? Somehow, I doubt I matter very much to her at all.”
“You matter to me .” Shadowheart prods. “And what matters to me matters to my Lady in turn. She allowed me to heal you, you know.”
“-After I was nearly slaughtered in your Lady’s name!” Serena scoffs. “Because you sent spies after me, Heart!”
Again, the name leaves Shadowheart breathless. She utters it so sweetly, despite the frustration in her tone.
“...It’s for your safety .” Shadowheart snaps. She paces the length of her quarters, and Serena watches her helplessly. “How can I ensure you aren’t bothered by our cloister’s prosperity if I don’t know whether you’re dead or alive?”
“...By accepting one of the many invitations I’ve sent you to come to the estate!” Serena snaps as if it’s obvious , and Shadowheart rubs her temples in frustration. “I…I never ceased sending them in hopes you might appear.”
“I know. ” Shadowheart murmurs, reaching for the locked drawer at her desk. She produces a stack of letters, all unbound and well-handled, in a careful grasp. “...You know I can’t afford to do that.” She offers no explanation this time, upon the mountain of excuses she’s already offered Serena at one time or another.
My Lady will always come before you- before anything or anyone else.
Lady Shar’s side is my place; I cannot afford any distractions.
I cannot be seen; it would put a target on your head, just by association.
“...My spies tell me about you too, you know.” Serena finally breaks the silence.
“Oh?” Shadowheart lifts a manicured brow, curious as ever, and Serena offers her a weak smile. “Do tell.”
“Jaheira says you look well, on the rare outings you make, these days.” Serena informs her.
“Some fine espionage. Is that all her Harpers have to say?” Shadowheart smirks.
“...Well, I also know your cloister also single-handedly drives the sale of wine in the city.”
Shadowheart smirks. “Is that what the mighty Harpers are doing now? Keeping a watchful eye on the trade ledgers ?”
“...Actually, one of the ships in my trade fleet comes straight to and from a barge connecting up the Chionthar, and all the way to Cormyr. Your endless supply of Arabellan Dry has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it? My mother’s favorite, by the way.” Serena chuckles.
“Your fleet…”
Shadowheart stills for a moment, in awe of the words.
It’s easy to forget that life has moved on around her, while her head has been buried in cloister affairs and her service to Shar. Serena has reinstated her family’s patriar status, and in such a small amount of time, begun to rebuild the once marvelous fleet that brought her family their riches.
It’s not the life of adventuring or even domesticity that Shadowheart could have pictured for Serena- or perhaps even the both of them, so long ago. But Serena is happy, safe, and successful- and there’s a quiet part of Shadowheart that longs to partake in this chapter of her life.
Shar reminds her that she should not want for anything, with a painful shock to her hand.
Shadowheart winces, and Serena wears a look of heartbreak as she rises from the bed.
“...She still torments you so.” Serena laments softly, and as she reaches for Shadowheart’s wrist, like she always used to before pressing a kiss there.
Shadowheart can almost feel the ghost of Serena’s lips against her skin, taking all her pain away and instead redirecting her attention to the butterflies in her stomach.
But she cannot tolerate the way she speaks of her Lady.
Shadowheart avoids Serena’s grasp, and steels herself against the hurt in her gaze. She no longer has the privilege of free touch, much as Shadowheart longs to grant it to her.
“Heart…I’m so sorry .” Serena utters brokenly, and Shadowheart feels white-hot rage burning within her at the pity in her gaze. She looks upon Shadowheart as if she’s a zealot , as if she’s wrong , and the promises her Lady has made her are nothing but lies.
It’s the same look Serena gave her as they ended their fledgling relationship, parting ways after the defeat of the Netherbrain.
“Don’t be.” Shadowheart sneers. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand devotion like this…it isn’t for everyone.” Shadowheart jabs, because it feels safe.
It’s ironic, because Serena’s love is the purest, truest form of devotion Shadowheart has ever experienced.
Again, Shar lashes out at her through the wound for such an egregious thought.
Shadowheart winces, and Serena opens and closes her mouth, unsure of what to say, or how to comfort her. Every fiber of her being longs to draw Shadowheart into her arms and hold her , but she knows Shadowheart would sooner tear her head off then allow that kind of intimacy.
“...Tell me, what’s your smith like?” Shadowheart turns away, rubbing at her hand and grimacing at the residual shockwaves of pain. “...The one who’s convinced a noble she’d make a fair blacksmith.”
Shadowheart knows what she’s doing, how she intentionally keeps Serena at an arm’s length with her little biting comments. It hurts less, this way- or so she tells herself.
But Serena is Serena, and along with her endless reserve of patience, she possesses an intimate knowledge of how Shadowheart operates. She doesn’t take the bait.
“This isn’t about Camille. And…we’re not together. Not like that.” Serena tuts softly, though a small part of her does worry for the poor woman’s fate. It seems that anyone Serena involves herself with might inevitably end up in Shadowheart’s crosshairs. “Though…she might wonder where I am, we were to meet at Elfsong when I was taken…” Serena trails off.
“...I’m happy for you. Truly.” Shadowheart grits the words out, and Serena cannot see her expression; she isn’t certain whether Shadowheart is in pain physically, or simply livid with her.
Serena almost doesn’t believe the sincerity.
“...Even if you’ve clearly settled for less.” Shadowheart snipes in something of a grumble.
And there it is.
Serena can’t help but feel enraged.
All of this was supposed to be theirs.
They’d spoken often of grand plans to adventure together, to disappear into the farthest corners of Faerun, hand in hand.
Shadowheart doesn’t have the right to be upset, choosing Shar as she has. Serena cannot join her at her side, as much as she loves every furrow of her brow, much as she worships the ground Shadowheart walks upon.
Shadowheart rejected her.
“And your life is exactly as you planned it, then?” Serena finally runs out of her fabled patience, and Shadowheart seems to relish in making her snap.
“Yes.” Shadowheart sneers, gesturing around her haughtily. “I am my Lady’s chosen. The cloister has prospered , and my Lady’s gospel reaches new distances every day.”
“My apologies, how fulfilling that must be.”
Shadowheart scowls, and whips around, face to face with Serena and only about a meter apart in distance.
“More fulfilling than returning to a life I’ve been trying to evade all the while.” Shadowheart’s words are caustic, rubbing dirt in the wound of Serena’s return to nobility.
Serena always loathed the notion of living as a patriar again in the city; Shadowheart was frankly surprised when she’d first learned of her plans to reopen old trade routes and acquire a fleet.
“And all your followers jockeying for your attention?” Serena seethes. “They must keep you warm at night.”
Shadowheart balks, freezing for a moment before doubling down. “They do. Jealous, are we?” She drawls, wearing a twisted smirk that Serena cannot stand.
“ Of course I am!” Serena snaps, chest heaving, and Shadowheart looks as if she’s been slapped by the omission. “You’re all I ever wanted , and I can’t bear the thought of-”
“- Wanted?” Shadowheart whispers the single word, and Serena’s heart collapses in on itself.
“... Want. ” Serena corrects in a single shaky whisper.
This time, Serena does not ask before reaching for Shadowheart. It’s pure instinct, muscle memory from their time traveling together.
This time, Shadowheart winds herself around her, just as she used to, standing on the tips of her toes for the perfect angle as soft lips slot against hers.
Kissing Serena again is dangerous .
It is sweet , tender , needy, desperate, loving - all at once. Shadowheart cannot compare Serena’s touch to any other; no one makes her feel the same delicious spark that consumes her entire body in white-hot bliss.
Shamefully, in her own cloister and as her chosen Mother Superior, no less, Shadowheart forgets all about the existence of Shar.
Everything is Tav.
Shadowheart’s eyes close in bliss, as soft lips kiss away any doubts, and she’s returned to sunlit meadows, Serena napping atop her lap after a hard training session. She hears birdsong, the group’s raucous laughter as they make their way from the shadow-cursed lands. Serena presents her with another night orchid, and Shadowheart stops pressing them between the pages of her books. Foolishly, she thinks she doesn’t need to preserve them anymore- not when Serena is at her side, constantly gifting them anew and making her heart do somersaults.
Shadowheart’s lips tremble in the kiss and Serena assuages each and every fear of hers, steady hands finding purchase on hips, pulling Shadowheart flush against her.
This is not the kiss of some wanton acolyte, either looking to make a claim or be claimed by the Mother Superior. This is not a power-play, not a bold attempt of an acolyte trying to show off their relationship with her to the others.
It is simply Tav , pouring all her love and affection out for Shadowheart- the girl who secretly adores animals and flowers, and snores adorably in her sleep.
Shadowheart moans softly into the kiss, and the sound makes Serena pause, blinking and opening her eyes rather adorably. She’s missed that sound.
“I…” Serena whispers, though her grip on Shadowheart only tightens when a knock at the door seems to startle them both from their loving reverie.
Shadowheart, to Serena’s surprise, doesn’t let go. She gasps for air, resting her forehead in the dip of Serena’s neck for a moment, steadying herself.
“What is it?” She demands aloud, and the resounding answer of her guards inform her that there’s food ready for them, if she desires to eat. Serena’s stomach grumbles on cue- perhaps they’d been ignoring it before, but Shadowheart realizes she must be starving , after all she’s endured.
Serena blushes, and Shadowheart chuckles sweetly against her shoulder.
The sound makes Serena still; she’s dreamt endlessly of that laugh, so in love with the sound that it almost brings tears to her eyes.
“We can resume fighting after a proper meal.” Shadowheart informs her, and Serena hugs her closer in response. “...and perhaps a bath.”
Shadowheart has the entirety of the baths cleared out for herself and Serena. The dark marble of the floors reflect the purple flames in the sconces and braziers, creating a soft glow within the room.
The bath itself is massive; Serena does not want to know why it accommodates so many, nauseated as she already is about Shadowheart and her relationship to her underlings.
Shadowheart rests by the steps of the bath, regally seated as she dips her ankle into the steaming hot water delicately. She glances expectantly at Serena, in nothing more than her bandage and her trousers. “Do you plan on bathing clothed ?”
Serena’s eyes widen slightly. “...Well, no…” She admits.
“Everything off. Even the bandage. You’re healed, it was just a precaution.” Shadowheart retorts.
Serena hesitates, unbuttoning the first button of her waistband.
Shadowheart smirks. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown timid .”
Serena rolls her eyes and shimmies out of her clothing, well aware of the way Shadowheart feasts on her form, tan and still chiseled from her constant activity.
“...Beautiful…” Shadowheart mutters, and while it is a touch predatory, it’s mostly genuine awe . “Come here.” She beckons.
Serena slowly makes her way to the water’s edge, hissing as she takes her first steps into the bath.
“Here.” Shadowheart murmurs, fingers reaching up to undo the bandage.
Serena tenses, skin bare under her touch as Shadowheart gently peels away the bandage, leaving Serena’s torso bare for the first time since she’d put the damn thing on.
Shadowheart presses the ghost of a kiss between Serena’s shoulder blades before gently pushing her into the water.
Serena slowly sinks into the depths, remerging with her hair slicked and her skin beaded with little droplets of water, clinging to long eyelashes as she blinks.
Shadowheart watches her silently, breath stilling in her lungs.
This used to be her view every day , at some point.
“You’re just here to watch?” Serena addresses her staring rather coyly, and Shadowheart snaps back to attention.
“And what if I am?” Shadowheart smirks. “This is my cloister, after all. Now, come here and do what Mother tells you.” She gestures to the steps in the bath before her, and Serena floats over gracefully, but not without an eye roll and a scoff first.
Shadowheart is particularly proud of the open mouthed look Serena first gives her in response, like a fish out of water, before snapping back to reality.
Shadowheart aches to know which fantasies have so clearly surfaced in her mind, what with the way her cheeks have turned beet red.
“Good girl.” Shadowheart boasts as Serena sits between her legs, her back towards Shadowheart, though she wheels around, rather insulted at those words. “...I jest.” Shadowheart snickers, and silences Serena with a hand through her wet locks.
Shadowheart begins by working a rich lather into her hair, enjoying the way Serena melts backwards into her, so relaxed that she might fall asleep before Shadowheart can be finished with her.
An arm settles on Shadowheart’s thigh, more to anchor herself than anything else, but Shadowheart adores the contact all the same- and it should be noted that no one grabs the Mother Superior without asking.
Shadowheart is taken back to their days on the road together; bathing was a luxury, and they’d often find themselves freezing in the closest river or stream that was deemed safe.
…And of course, Shadowheart can never forget their swimming lessons .
“...Thank you.” Serena murmurs, surprising Shadowheart from her thoughts.
“...Whatever for?” Shadowheart nearly laughs.
“...For healing me. And…this…” Serena gestures vaguely. “I…it couldn’t have been easy.”
“...Tav.” Shadowheart shakes her head in disbelief. “It was the least I could do. I…this was never supposed to happen-”
“-I’m glad it did.” Serena’s voice is small, but certain.
Shadowheart’s hands pause rubbing against her scalp. “You what?” She sputters, so unceremoniously and inelegantly that Serena turns her head to look at her.
“I mean it. I’ve missed you , Heart.” Serena admits, and perhaps it’s easier for her to say if she glances away, because she does.
I’ve missed you too . So much that it hurts.
“Oh?” Shadowheart resumes her lather, adopting a playful tone instead. “Pray tell, what exactly have you missed?”
“Your laugh.” Serena answers so readily, Shadowheart feels the words like a blow to the gut. “Your smile- the grin you get when you see animals, or…when Astarion and Gale trip over each other coming down a steep hill.”
Shadowheart’s answering laugh is like a blessing to Serena.
“...Do go on.”
“Your snoring.”
Shadowheart tugs playfully at Serena’s hair in response, wearing a faux-scandalized scowl. “I could have my guards seize you, you know.”
“I beg forgiveness, my Lady .”
Shadowheart hears her title every day, from any number of the members in her cloister. Only when Serena drawls it in such a sultry manner does she forget to breathe.
“...So you’ve missed the various noises I make.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “How romantic.”
Serena wears a look of offense at Shadowheart’s oversimplification of her devotion. “...Because they’re parts of you .”
It’s a beautifully painful knife to the heart.
Shadowheart bites her lip to keep from crying, ever grateful that Serena cannot see her eyes, because she would break instantly just by looking at her.
“...What else?” Shadowheart sniffles softly.
“...I recall a fair amount of swimming lessons and sandcastles, if I’m not mistaken.” Serena chuckles.
“...I…don’t think I’ll ever forget those.” Shadowheart acknowledges whimsically. “I…miss those days.” She finally admits, just once, aloud, so she can finally acknowledge the truth, and be done with it. “They were…simpler times.”
“Exceedingly simple. Only the Absolute and a Netherbrain to fend off.” Serena mocks, feigning a yawn, and Shadowheart grins, rolling her eyes.
“You understood my intent.”
“...I did.” Serena whispers. “You miss living , Heart.” Serena informs her sagely.
Serena yanks Shadowheart into the water, grinning at the yelp Shadowheart makes, tumbling right into her arms.
“Tav!” Shadowheart shrieks, gaping at her former lover as her cloister suit is soaked from head to toe.
The shriek draws the attention of the guards, who abruptly crack the door open, checking on Shadowheart and ready to kill Serena on command.
“Leave us.” Shadowheart snaps, and the sound of the door closing is their confirmation that they’re alone once more.
Serena darts away from her grasp, freshly healed and spry as ever, and Shadowheart yelps as she nearly tackles her like a child , the two of them creating quite the commotion.
“I could have you shackled for that.” Shadowheart challenges in a low whisper, with narrowed eyes as she corners her prey.
“All that healing just to throw me in the dungeon?” Serena counters, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter in her amusement.
“Don’t tempt me.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes, but they glint with amusement. Juvenile, idiotic amusement- something Shadowheart has not felt in ages .
Fun, for the sake of fun.
It sounds asinine, and yet…Shadowheart feels light . The grin on her lips comes easily, and she feels playful . Her position in power ensures that no one in the cloister has a joking rapport with her- only Nocturne can get away with the stray comment here or there.
But Serena?
She knows she’s special; both the bane of Shadowheart’s existence and the very reason she draws breath at all.
“You want to provoke me? Fine, have it your way.” Shadowheart smirks as she begins to do away with the cloister suit, revealing herself to Serena.
“...What…I…are you….” Serena’s malfunction brings a proud, borderline smug look to Shadowheart’s face.
“Since you can’t be still, you can wash me .” Shadowheart drawls, and really- it’s been years since she’s been able to witness Serena’s mind short-circuiting in real time, but it is just as satisfying as it used to be. “A privilege, here in the cloister, I’ll have you know.”
Serena takes several moments to catch up, unsure of where to look, or even how to speak.
Shadowheart cannot deny what it does to her heart to see Serena still so enamored with her, even after all this time. She feels the same way- Serena holds an unrivaled place in her heart and her affections. Time seems powerless to erase the bond they’ve forged together.
“...Come here.” Serena acquiesces gently, more than willing to do most anything Shadowheart asks of her.
Shadowheart’s arms wind around her neck as Serena undoes her plait, setting raven hair loose over her shoulders, drawing her closer in the most intimate fashion.
Her touch is gentle, never desperate. Her hands do not stray as she scratches softly against Shadowheart’s scalp, repeating the same process done unto her.
They rock and sway in the water together; pressed skin to skin with nothing between them. As much as Shadowheart aches to have Serena on her, in her, becoming one with her in every sense of the word- Serena does not stray from her chivalric ideals.
She doesn’t wish to merely partake in Shadowheart; she wishes to be forever hers. She adores her, respects her too much to ever accept anything less.
She presses kisses to Shadowheart’s forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth- each one a silent confession of undying love.
Shadowheart’s entire body burns and tingles with hot licks of arousal for the woman before her, the woman she’s dreamt of night in and night out for years.
Her kisses aren’t nearly enough, but Shadowheart clings to them, relishes in them all the same- knowing she might never feel the tender press of her lips again.
It almost feels like a normal outing.
The sun shines down upon them; Shadowheart has grown so accustomed to darkness, night, and shadows- she’d almost forgotten the brilliant golden glow of the sun itself.
It bathes the city, all the buildings and greenery around them, in a stunning gilded layer of gold and light.
Serena’s hair even seems to have an ethereal glow around it, as they sit side by side in the secluded garden just outside the exterior of the House of Grief.
Nocturne ensures they have their privacy, even now; though Shadowheart does not delude herself into thinking there aren’t members of her cloister eager to spy on their Mother Superior with an old flame.
Shadowheart finds herself longing for the days where none of this was even a factor ; she could simply sprawl out in the sun and read, while Serena trained and kept her company.
Serena sits beside her atop the blanket over the grass, refreshing Shadowheart’s chalice with more Arabellan Dry from her private cellars. Their pinkies brush as they sit together; Shadowheart allows it.
And perhaps she bites back a smile when Serena’s pinky curls around her own, ever so slightly.
“-Lae’zel even brought Xan, it was wonderful to see how he’s grown already. And Flamerule, I might even journey to Waterdeep to attend one of Gale’s lectures.” Serena continues, oblivious to the way Shadowheart drinks in the sight of her in the sun. Shadowheart’s eyes rake over muscled shoulders; Serena wears a cloister suit ( after protesting and annoying Shadowheart to no end)- and she wears it well.
“I’m…relieved to hear Lae’zel and Xan are well. They evade the city, and the best of my scouts in doing so. And Gale…I’d love nothing more than to see him before his adoring pupils .” Shadowheart grins, and then sighs softly into her chalice.
The wine is always sweeter in Serena’s presence.
As Mother Superior, there’s little time for distractions, such as journeying to Waterdeep to see Gale, or frankly, any of their friends. Hearing of their journeys now, from Serena…it aches , more than Shadowheart thought it would.
“Then come.” Serena offers as if it’s the simplest solution in the world. “We could go by caravan, or I could charter a-”
“-I can’t.” Shadowheart cuts her off like a guillotine, and ignores the icy feeling in her chest. This is her life now. “I…my place is here . In the cloister.”
“A cloister can’t love you .”
Shadowheart pauses, breathless and in so much pain that she thinks her heart might truly wither and turn to ash. To hear those words from her lips?
“My Lady does.” Shadowheart grits out, ire rising as the pain in her wound bites at her, reminding her of her lady’s love.
Serena does the unexpected, then: she laughs . It’s sweet, disarming and melodic, and Shadowheart scowls at her curiously. “What’s funny about that?” She demands.
Serena’s shoulders shake as she laughs, throwing her head back and looking skywards as she closes her eyes, shaking her head at the hilarity of it all. “Nothing- I…” She heaves. “...my luck, I suppose.”
Shadowheart’s eyes narrow; it’s a silent invitation to elaborate, preferably before she kills her for mocking her devotion to her Dark Lady.
“...That I should fall in love with the one person I’d have to compete with a goddess for.” Serena murmurs, rubbing her face at the hilarity of it all.
Shadowheart doesn’t know why it sounds so romantic when she says it like that , in her stupidly posh little patriar accent, right in front of Shar’s own house of worship.
It’s an insult to her goddess, to her faith, to everything she believes in, and yet Serena’s eyes twinkle with adoration just for her. Not for being a storied Dark Justiciar, not for her prowess with a blade or bow, or any of the other reasons she’s become Shar’s heralded leader.
Serena loves her ; the parts of her she tries so desperately to force away for fear of being weak in her Lady’s all-seeing gaze.
Serena’s just confessed she would wage war with a literal goddess just to have Shadowheart.
It’s the kind of love Shadowheart used to read about in the novels she and Nocturne would sneak into their hidey-hole; it makes her head swim, and her heart pound furiously in her chest like a war drum.
“You…needn’t be at odds with her.” Shadowheart recites the tired line she’s tried and failed to convince herself of, many times over. “You could…you could join me . Here. She could be your Lady, too. Her embrace is ever reaching, and-”
“And I could jockey for your attention like your other followers?” Serena quips gently.
Truthfully, part of Shadowheart is secretly just a little pleased that this information has rankled as much as it has. She’d assumed, perhaps wrongfully, that Serena had moved on without so much as a thought of her.
To know that- while she closes her eyes and feels the reverent touch of her acolytes, and imagines it’s Serena- she in turn still thinks about Shadowheart, about the undeniable bond they share as soulmates, even more than lovers.
“You’d have it. As much as I could give you.” Shadowheart assuages softly.
You mean so much more to me.
“I’m not certain I could stomach even the idea .” Serena whispers, and Shadowheart feels chills across her body despite the warmth of the sun’s rays. “And afterwards, I…I would always want more of you.”
Shadowheart blinks away the memory of nearly snapping Serena’s arm in half; they used to wake up in her tent absolutely tangled together.
“And I could never be a loyal follower to your Lady…not while my heart is otherwise occupied with a different goddess.” Serena continues.
Tav’s always had a unique way of making Shadowheart feel like more than an acolyte. In Serena’s presence, she becomes the ethereal goddess who demands every ounce of her followers’ devotion.
Shadowheart has no argument for her; Serena’s moral sensibilities would render her a lousy Sharran, by all measures.
It’s part of why Shadowheart loves her so.
She just doesn’t want her to leave .
Serena sips her wine delicately and feeds Shadowheart a piece of fruit from their tray, so casual and comfortable with the action, despite the gravity of their conversation. Shadowheart accepts the piece gracefully, and Serena smiles lovingly at her, dabbing the corner of her chin with her thumb.
Serena gazes at her face, parted by the black curtain of her fringe, and falls in love all over again, just like every other time she seems to gaze upon Shadowheart.
Green eyes meet amber, and they make playful love with their gaze, in lieu of devouring each other as they so desperately wish to.
Serena will not sacrifice her morals, despite how sweet Shadowheart’s siren song is.
She will , however, bide her time until the moment is right.
Shadowheart is the worst Sharran she’s ever met- and Serena has slain many in the war that broke out between Cormyr, Netheril, and Sembia. There are cracks, little fissures in the stoney exterior facade Shar has built around her beloved as she tried to chisel her into a beautiful weapon.
Serena’s love slowly melts away at this exterior, like molten lava poured atop metal, slowly burning away years of indoctrination to reveal the breathtaking woman beneath.
Serena is patient; perhaps even more than Shadowheart gives her credit for.
There will come a day when Shar’s grip loosens, even ever-so-slightly, on Shadowheart.
When that day comes, Serena will be there, ready and willing to gently pry her away from those wretched hands, and bring her home.
Every day, she tends to the garden in her estate, ensuring the night orchids are thriving in bloom. She tells Scratch of her grand plans on every romp and walk they take. She still writes to her mother about the stupefyingly beautiful half-elf cleric who’s enraptured her entire being with her sharp tongue and kind heart.
Serena hasn’t forgotten Shadowheart for even a day since parting; they could never be strangers. Even if Shar decides to commit the unthinkable , and wipe her from the recesses of Shadowheart’s mind, Serena would still come for her.
It’s a lesson Serena has learned the hard way; there is no getting over Shadowheart.
If she is a lifelong pursuit, so be it. Serena knows she hasn’t nearly as much time left as the half-elf now leaning her head on her shoulder, but she finds that it matters little, in the end.
She’d gladly spend it all pursuing Shadowheart, if it made her happy .
Bells from the watchtower toll in the distance, carrying over the bustle of the city, and Shadowheart tucks a little further into Serena’s shoulder, well-aware of what this means.
“I didn’t realize it was getting so late.” Serena murmurs, glancing at the face tucked into her shoulder.
“...You needn’t leave so soon.” Shadowheart pleads in a mumble in Serena’s neck. “...You could stay. Just…for a little.”
She loathes appearing weak, but she fears she won’t be able to hide her disappointment when Serena finally departs.
Shadowheart wants to cry at the gentle kiss pressed to her hair, her forehead, so familiar and warm and safe. She wants to be held , to be kissed , to be loved - worshiped by Serena’s hand, and on her knees worshiping her in turn. True devotion, the holiest kind.
She closes her eyes and imagines waking up beside her in an oversized bed, tangled together so tightly that they need to stretch when they part. She envisions bounding along the coast with Scratch, stumbling into Serena’s arms like she used to when he’d give chase.
It is the ultimate sin: her disloyalty to Lady Shar.
Just why does it feel so good?
“...For you...” Serena acquiesces, and Shadowheart sighs softly at the arm that wraps around her, hugging her tightly. “...anything.”